#and then the horrors struck. so it took. a while to finish

[hypnospac3]

「その声を聴かせてくれ」

[himbodruid]

Nightmares

Rafayel x Reader

You awake from a nightmare and seek comfort from Rafayel

CW/TW: mentions of blood, body horror?

**********

How did everything go so wrong.

Flashes of light, echoing sounds, wafting smells. It was enough to make you nauseous. The wanderers were swarming and it was never ending. Your guns were ripped from your hands, and the claymore lay at your feet in pieces. And still the surge never stopped.

An intense pain split your chest, making you falter. Looking down, a sickle-like appendage erupted from your body, coated in your blood and viscera. It was over. Everything you fought for was for naught. Your vision blurred and you began the slow descent to the blood-soaked ground and…

You awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. The searing pain in your chest quickly changed to a dull ache once you gained your bearing. The domed glass ceiling perfectly framed the full moon, and the soft silk of the sheets beneath you helped to ground you in this reality.

A nightmare. It had just been a nightmare.

You were glad it wasn’t such a common occurrence anymore. When you went on your first few missions to fight wanderers, the fear you locked away surfaced in your sleep the very same night. But it had been some time since then, and a few months since your last nightmare of a similar vein. This time, though, you were in Rafayel’s bed instead of alone in your own.

You focused on the events from the previous evening to help anchor your mind. The dinner you had, and then the intimacy shared after. Anything to calm your thundering heart and to ease the anxiety. You reached over, expecting Rafayel to still be asleep beside you, but you found the space empty and the sheets cool to the touch. You tried to swallow down the disappointment, but it still left a bitter taste in the back of your throat. You sat up and pushed your hair out of your face, looking across the room to where you knew the bathroom to be. The light was off, so you turned your attention to the door instead. It was dim, but you could see a faint light coming from the cracked door. Oh! The studio. Of course. Rafayel was known to bow to the whims of late night inspiration, so you felt foolish for not even thinking of checking there for him.

You weren’t even sure why you sought comfort from him for a silly nightmare, something that you should be able to handle on your own as an adult. Wrapping yourself in one of his cardigans, you took in his floral and sea salt scent and padded down the hallway. You hesitated in the doorway of the studio, at war with yourself. One part of you said to stop being childish and just go back to bed, while the other urged your feet forward. Caving to the latter, you quietly stalked across the studio towards him.

He stood in front of a finished canvas, a cup of tea in hand while he just stared at the painting, searching for some minute detail he may have missed. You always poked fun at him for the weird behaviour, but he always chuckled and told you “it’s just an artist thing”. His brocade robe was belted, showcasing the contrast between his broad shoulders and narrowed waist. A small smile curled the corners of your mouth at the sweet memory of being wrapped around him just hours before.

So lost in thought was he, that he didn’t even realize you stood directly behind him. You tilted your head forward, resting your forehead against his back. Just that small contact was enough to ease the tension from your shoulders, tension you hadn’t realized you’d carried with you. He set his cup down and turned to face you.

“What’re you doing awake, Cutie?” He said softly. You clenched your jaw, debating on whether to admit that you’d been bothered by a nightmare or not. When you didn’t look at him, his hand came up under your chin to lift your face to his. You weren’t sure what he saw in your eyes, but he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Something about the gentleness of his voice, the concern in his eyes, struck you hard and you blinked back the sting of tears. A single one escaped, and his hand came up to cup your cheek, wiping that stray away with the pad of his thumb. You closed your eyes, turning your face into his touch.

With a deep breath you looked up at him and shrugged. “It was just a dumb nightmare.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you to him and folding you into a hug. His warmth and scent surrounded you, and you sunk into him. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he said, resting his cheek on your head and rocking you back and forth. You hugged him tighter.

“It’s okay, you’re right here.”

You stood in his embrace for an indiscernible amount of time, but you wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else except right there in his arms. But eventually, he did release you to kiss you on the forehead and to douse the light. He led you back to his room by way of moonlight, tucking you into his bed and climbing in behind you. He curled around you, and it was hard to describe the emotion that swelled in your heart when he started humming to you to lull you back to sleep.

Safe.

It’d been a while since you felt safe like that, but he embodied that peace when he held you in his arms. And it was something you would be forever grateful to him for.

You slept soundly for the remainder of the night, waking in the early hours of the morning to him smiling softly down at you. Your turned in his arms to face him, nuzzling into his chest and murmuring a soft “thank you” to him. He stroked your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers while you talked about everything and nothing with each other. He didn’t ask about the nightmare, and for that you were grateful.

The rest of the day was spent in bed, not a single care for the world outside it.

[mightybeewrites]

Child of the Bat

Yandere! Batfamily x Neglected! Platonic! Reader

Chapter: 3

First, prev, next

Synopsis: you and your mystery horror author mother moved to Gotham for a fresh new start. At first you hated the idea of moving. You wanted to stay in Georgia with all of your friends and all of the familiar faces but soon you had to say goodbye. A few months into your new Gothamite life—disaster struck and your mother died. It was revealed that you’re also Bruce Wayne’s bio child. And so you moved in with him and his sea of children. Will you survive this new change in your life? Or will you succumb to the pressures of Gotham and its corruption?

A/N: When I describe what clothing you wear, you can imagine smth else :3

———————

Meeting Damian Wayne was… puzzling. It was as if you two were looking into a mirror. What Alfred told you about Damian was that, he was just a few years older than you and that he is awfully serious but has a good heart. It would be a lie to say you wasn’t nervous.

------

Waking up to a big room was still something to get use to. The bed felt like a million clouds wrapped together with a red silk string. Your eyes took a minute to open. And your body took even more time to get out of bed. Once you did, you stepped out of bed and got ready for the day then stepped out into the hallway. You walked and walked. Soon, the creepy hallway filled with dust and cob webs and spiders, turned into lavender scented rugs, the head statutes without any dust, and and glossy wooden floors.

Alfred said that the estate will become more chaotic once everyone comes home.

You walked down the stairs dressed in baggy pants and a punk t shirt, with some eyeliner and a little lip gloss. Some braids were over your shoulders while the rest was down your back. Just as you was about to go look for Alfred—to hopefully help him with cleaning or just to hang out with him, the front door opened to reveal a taller guy. The first thing you noticed were his piercing green eyes and arched eyebrows.

It was as if the world had stopped.

A lump was caught in your throat as you stared at the tall boy. His dark brown hair was short.

“You must be the new girl Alfred mentioned.”

You said nothing but nodded.

He stepped inside the manor, hand gripped on the strap of his bag. Green eyes never left your form. You didn’t dare look away either. His expression was unreadable—which made you shift a bit on your feet. Your blue eyes started to search his face—he had brown skin like yours with dark hair pulled back. He wore a deep red dress shirt with dark pants. Wherever he shopped at, it felt as if he just called you poor in 56 different languages.

He simply tilted his head to the side—“it seems father’s genes are superior… don’t you think?”

Your arched eyebrows twitched a bit as your gaze hits the floor. “um...I am not sure. I… suppose. I’m-“

“-Y/N. I’m aware of that already. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

And with that, Damian Wayne walked past you—up the stairs and out of sight.

-----

A whole day passed when you met Tim Drake-Wayne. From what you can remember due to Alfred and media, he’s suppose to be very intelligent and would use his money to donate to a lot of charities. Which is pretty impressive.

Though, you didn’t expect to meet him at the unholy time of 3:47 AM. You was hungry. So you went to the kitchen to make yourself a sandwich—only to find Tim eating a grilled cheese with some chips and a tall can of monster on the side.

Despite your footsteps being unusually quiet, the moment you stepped into the kitchen, Tim immediately looked but continued to chew.

His blue eyes scanned your appearance—his expression calculating.

“You look just like him.”

Was the first thing he said. In which you shifted uncomfortably.

Your intense eyes darted, “Alfred told you?”

Tim finished his meal and got up, “No, it doesn’t take too much to know you’re his kid.”

You walked closer to him as he started to clean up his area, “What’s he like? Apart from what the media shows. I’ve been a bit nervous to meet him.”

“Bruce is… complex. I gotta let you know that he’s a very busy man—so you might not see him much.”

Your shoulders slumped—despite the possible good intentions behind your new brother’s words, you don’t know why but it stun a little to hear that. Would he even care when he came back? Would he care about you or look your way? Or would he stare down at you like the gunk on his expensive dress shoes.

Just as he was about to pass you, Tim put a hand on your shoulder which made you look up. Your blue eyes boring into his—your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why he was touching you.

“My condolences…by the way.”

You blinked multiple times before your gazed lowered.

“…. Thanks..” your voice was small. Your throat burned and you forced yourself to hold it all back. Your shoulders trembled and shook, your fists were tight.

Your gaze was met with a box of tissues. You didn’t notice at first but your new brother offered you tissues.

You didn’t dare look at his face, you kept thinking he was pitying you.

“… I know what it’s like. To lose your parent… it’s.. not very good.”

“It hurts…” your voice was quiet.

“I know…”

“I… hate it.” Your soft voice turnt harsh.

“… I know.”

“I want to make him pay.” You muttered to yourself.

Tim didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t have time to. He watched you take the box of tissues, muttered a thanks and walked away, up the stairs back to your room at the far ends of the manor.

Tim bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes went off to the side—squinting, scheming, thinking.

“… she really is like him.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Simon Kalivoda - In a Relationship

warning : kiss, fluff, tiny hurt/comfort

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

°It was love at first sight for the blond when he saw you for the first time, he couldn't suppress the love-struck grin on his lips, you were just too beautiful. Above all, the school mascot couldn't be stopped from trying to get you to notice him, from letters in class that went to you, to handing in the muffin from the cafeteria that was the best and mostly the only edible one. Or his favorite was when he brought a movie. After endless attempts, how can you say no to a guy like Simon?

°From the moment you first met, he seemed to never stop loving you. Not a day went by when you didn't see him smiling, his head in his hands, looking at you dreamily. ,,You're just so pretty,” he always defended himself when you told him he could leave it alone, and at first you thought he was trying to get rid of you...no chance, Simon didn't leave your side. Why should he when he had the most beautiful girl in town and could hold her hand.

°Wherever you go or drive, he entertains you with his jokes, movie facts and maybe a few pills, although this only spurs him on more to give you compliments. ,,Even if your hand fell off, I'd still hold it,” he said during a car ride when he traced your knuckles with his fingers. Simon just loved holding your hand or both hands, feeling your warmth and life. A warmth that he always radiated, even the metal of his rings seemed to warm up.

°When it's getting cooler, he'll look forward to movie dates, buy snacks and wear his witch makeup or go as a character from one of the movies, ,,Welcome to Simon's fantastic movie empire, my sweet,” he opened the door while wearing a blue overall and his hair was more disheveled than usual, and she guessed Michael Myers, which she was right about. The sweet thing about Simon, was that he was so fascinated by horror movies and popped one popcorn after the other, he jumped at a jump scare, took your hand and clung to you, laughing, ,,My sweet protector,” he said, embarrassed, as he slowly climbed off you after jumping into your lap.

°Just because Simon was quite jumpy and excited, it didn't mean that he didn't have quiet moments. In fact, especially in the evening when the sun had not yet set, he was often calmer, enjoying a warm cocoa with you, sitting on his bed, he rummaged for his black nail polish, ,,I'll make you even more beautiful, trust me, it'll look great,” he said encouragingly and wiped a strand behind his ear before turning up the small cap and gently taking her hand. The determined look in his blue eyes, the way he pushed his hair back and the broad smile when he was finished were worth it all by themselves.

°But as loud as he could be, he was also embarrassed when you kissed him, whether it was a kiss on the cheek that made his cheeks turn pink or on the lips and he put his hand on your side, held you gently and closed his eyes to enjoy the moment, ,,I love you so fricking much,” he told you. Simon was completely relaxed about intimacy and appreciated every little touch, from holding hands to a gentle to intense kiss. As long as he was with you, felt you or even saw you smile, his heart melted immediately.

°Even in rather dark moments, when he had taken too much drugs mixed with alcohol, you stayed by his side when he threw up in the toilet, but always held your hand, casting a grateful glance at your pale face that you would not forget him like others and that you saw him as so much more than just the drug dealer or the school bully. But even in those painful moments, from your period to bad shitty days, he was by your side, either giving you space or closeness with snatches and cuddles, without which there was always something that calmed him down.

°Even small gestures like helping him with the witch make-up, a couple costume for Halloween or the easy braiding of his hair strands into which small colorful ribbons were laid were activities that showed him how close you were. This naturalness between you, the love that lay in the exchanged glances, the kisses that ended with a broad smile or just having the other with you was simply the most romantic thing you could have in Shadyside.

°His favorite nicknames for you are: Heart, Sweetie, Witch, Goddess

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 10K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

If you want to know, what the melody of this chapter song is like, The River by Daisy Jones and the Six is the inspiration.

"Hit the deck!"

Y/N barely had a moment to brace herself before the thunderous explosion erupted across the deck of the Going Merry. The cannonball struck with a force that rattled her bones, the shockwave sending her sprawling as she dropped to the floor, clutching her head. The wood of the railing splintered and cracked under the impact, filling the air with the sharp scent of burning timber and saltwater. Pieces of the ship’s railing exploded outward, shards of wood spinning through the air like deadly projectiles. She flinched as one of the splinters sliced across her cheek, leaving a warm trickle of blood in its wake.

Disoriented, she felt the world tilt and sway as the ship rocked from the blast, and she struggled to get her bearings. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on trembling legs.

"Everybody okay?" Luffy asked, his voice carrying over the chaos, unshaken by the cannon fire.

"I think so," Nami replied, her breath coming out a bit shaky.

Y/N wiped the blood from her cheek. "Define ‘okay.’ If it means mildly traumatized but still standing, then yeah, I'm peachy."

Usopp, on the other hand, looked like he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes. "No! Not okay! Not even close to okay!"

Luffy barely glanced at him before turning to the Marine ship in the distance, his finger pointing toward the enemy vessel with a gleam in his eye. "Usopp, fire back at them!"

Usopp’s eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head, his voice pitching. "Or, how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

Y/N nodded, jumping on Usopp’s idea immediately, "Now, that sounds like a solid plan. Strategic retreat, y’know? Let’s live to panic another day!"

Luffy looked between them, clearly baffled like they’d just suggested something completely outlandish. "Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the… the sail thing."

"Let’s sink their ship," Luffy told Ussop who had made his way next to the straw hat boy, and both started to prepare the cannon.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she shot a desperate glance at Nami. “Are you hearing this insanity? Oh, shi- look at them!”

Nami spared her a look, it was obvious her patience was wearing thin as she glared at Luffy. "We don’t have time. They’re stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we’re finished."

"You’re the navigator," Luffy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, while he and Usopp continued their preparations. "Do something."

Nami, fighting to keep her composure, took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed to Zoro and then to Y/N, as if by instinct, as she ordained, "Sheet in and hard to port!"

Y/N, groaning in defeat, moved toward the ropes. “Fantastic. Nothing like outrunning doom while trying not to strangle myself with these ropes.”

"Which way is port?" Zoro asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, making Y/N stop in her tracks and give him a look that could melt steel.

She nearly burst into tears right then and there.

“It’s on your left, Zoro!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and hauling him toward the ropes. “You do know left from right… don’t you? Is important to me that you know that.”

Zoro didn’t even bother to answer, letting Y/N pull him along as they hurried to execute Nami’s orders. But before they could even begin to unravel the ropes, the unmistakable sound of cannonballs rolling across the deck made them freeze.

For a beat, Y/N just stared at the incoming cannonballs as they tumbled to her feet. Her mind was blank and her gut twisting into knots. Then she pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "We're fucked."

Suddenly, a deep, booming voice of the vice admiral rang out across the open sea, slicing through the chaos like a hot knife through butter.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority."

Y/N’s body froze at the sound of the vice admiral’s booming voice. It pierced the chaos around her, and for a brief, suffocating moment, everything else disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat as a familiar, overwhelming sense of dread flooded her chest. Her breath caught, shallow and rapid, as memories—unbidden and sharp—began to surface like a nightmare she couldn’t outrun.

Flashes of her childhood flooded her vision: Marines with their cold faces set in determination as they hunted down her people. The cries of her father, the way he had fought to protect her, only to be torn away. Her small hands, gripped her father’s as they fled, knowing too well that escape was never truly an option. She could still feel the harsh net, still hear their voices—shouting commands, laughing as they dragged her father to his death. Her father... she could almost feel the warmth of his hand slipping from hers as he pleaded for her to take her sister and swim away.

A chill ran down her spine, and Y/N’s vision began to blur, the salty air thick in her lungs. The tightness in her chest grew, each breath more difficult to take. Her hands trembled, and she felt like she was back there, trapped in that terrified little girl’s body again, powerless and afraid. Her body was screaming at her to flee, to jump off the ship and swim far away, away from the threat of the Marines. But that was the panic talking. That was the fear, the survivor’s instinct, clawing at her.

No. Don’t be that scared child again. You’re not her anymore.

But the weight of the vice admiral’s words felt suffocating, like a trap closing in around her. The fear was real, deep-rooted, and it pressed against her chest like an iron band. Her mind screamed at her to run, to escape, but her body refused to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or the crushing weight of the past that kept her frozen in place. All she could do was fight the urge to break down, to fall apart right then and there. The panic, the memories—they were all crashing into her at once, and there was nothing she could do to push them away.

Every muscle in her body tensed, her throat constricted, and all she could do was cling to the edge of the ship until the loud shout of Luffy broke her haze.

"Never!" His voice carried across the water with unmatched conviction and defiance.

From the Marine vessel, the vice admiral stepped forward with surprising agility for his age, his steely eyes narrowing as he grabbed one of the heavy cannonballs.

With a grunt that could’ve been heard a mile away, the old marine hurled the cannonball with a surprising amount of strength, sending it rocketing through the air toward the Going Merry. The cannonball cut through the wind, heading straight for them with deadly accuracy. For a moment, Y/N froze, watching the projectile fly toward them, her heart in her throat. This is it, she thought. I'm dead.

But before she could even fully process it, Luffy, with a sudden lurch, made his stomach expand to ridiculous proportions, ballooning out until he looked like he was going to burst. The cannonball collided with his belly with a dull thud, bouncing harmlessly off him before it ricocheted off Luffy’s rubbery body and hurtled back toward the Marine ship. Y/N’s eyes widened as it made its way back to them, and with a sickening crash, it collided directly with one of the mastiffs on the Marine ship, knocking it down with a loud crash.

For a moment, Y/N could only blink, stunned into silence. Then, she exhaled slowly, her breath coming out in a soft whoosh. “How the hell...?”

"That was amazing!" Usopp exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe. "You saved us, Luffy!"

Nami, still catching her breath, gave Luffy an incredulous look. "You didn’t tell me you could do that,"

"I didn’t know I could!" Luffy admitted, right before Usopp lunged at him, wrapping him in a hug laughing and bouncing around in a strange mix of relief and victory.

“Good going, Stud!” Y/N let out an airy chuckle, the sound of it light and almost free as she finally allowed the tension to slip away, watching them celebrate their unlikely victory. She leaned against the railing, her body trembling ever so slightly as she realized how close she’d been to falling apart. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel her legs threaten to give way beneath her. She closed her eyes, pressing her palms against the cool wood, taking a slow, steadying breath, taking in the scent of the sea.

“Nami, get us out of here!” Luffy called to Nami.

“On it. Let’s disappear,” Nami replied, her voice laced with determination as she took control, hands steady on the wheel.

With a swift pull, she guided the Going Merry into position, adjusting the sails to catch what little wind they had left. The ship surged forward, slicing through the waves as if it were as eager to escape as they were and headed into a misty, thick and impenetrable cloud, like a veil hiding them from the Marines.

“Hey,” came Zoro’s monotone voice, causing Y/N to flinch just a little. It was subtle, but she couldn’t hide the sharp jolt in her chest. Embarrassed, she quickly masked her discomfort, forcing a wide, confident smile as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, Zoro, hey,” she said, her voice smooth but her heart still racing slightly.

Zoro’s eyes remained as indifferent as ever, but they narrowed just a fraction, the skepticism in them barely perceptible.

“You good?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was a hint of concern buried beneath the surface.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by his directness. She flashed him a playful smirk, hoping to deflect without showing any sign of vulnerability. “Worried about little ol’ me, hot shot? Didn’t think you had a sweet side."

Zoro’s expression didn’t change, but whatever trace of concern had been there moments ago was now gone. Y/N, half-expecting him to leave her be—because, honestly, he wasn’t exactly known for his warm and fuzzy bedside manner—thought her flippant attitude would have been enough to successfully send him packing. Yet, to her surprise (and slight dismay), he stayed. He simply crossed his arms and stared at her with that unreadable intensity.

Y/N’s smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor wavering under the weight of his unrelenting stare. There was something unnerving about how much attention he was paying to her but refused to let it show fully. Instead, she waved a hand dismissively, her voice light and playful. “Do not fret, it’s just a scratch. My face will be back to its former glory in no time.”

Zoro didn’t even blink. “That’s not what I’m talking about,”

But Y/N did—several times, rapid and involuntary, her mind faltering as his words struck a nerve she wasn’t ready to face. The tightness in her chest flared again, and she fought to push away the remnants of panic still twisting in her gut. It was relentless, simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to let go. The memories clawed at her mind—the sight of those Marines, the booming voice of authority—it all came rushing back too fast, too vividly, too... loud.

Her smirk faltered, morphing into something softer, a practised smile. She had perfected this act over the years. No one could know. No one could see how much of her was still haunted, how much of her was a cracked foundation barely held together by sheer will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoro,” she said lightly, tilting her head just enough to feign nonchalance. “I’m fine. Really.”

And without waiting for an answer or even a flicker of something that could resemble an expression, she manoeuvred around him. Her smile remained firmly in place, but her pace quickened as she walked away, leaving Zoro standing there. She made her way to Nami, positioning herself beside her as though nothing had happened, knowing the proximity to the pretty navigator would steady her fraying nerves. Like her steady rock.

Soon, the Going Merry was swallowed by the dense mist, the fog thick and impenetrable, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. The usual brightness of the open sea was replaced by an eerie stillness, the world around them muffled and grey. No one could see more than a few feet in any direction.

"How’s the ship look?" Nami asked, her voice cutting through the silence when she saw the swordsman return from checking the damage.

"Broken railing. Minor damage," Zoro said as she set herself next to her.

Y/N hums in encorgament. "Could've been worse."

"Could’ve been better," Nami muttered, her tone sour.

Usopp squinted into the dense fog, searching for any sign of the Marines. "Can’t see the Marines anywhere,"

Y/N glanced over the side of the ship, also squinting into the dense fog. "Can't see anything at all, I think you mean."

"What we need is a place to lay low and wait out any reinforcements they send after us," Nami said, her voice already tinged with frustration as she glanced down at the map in her hands. "But my charts are useless in this fog."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Great. So we’re basically sailing blind."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro wondered aloud.

Usopp, squinting through the fog, replied, "He’s on the bow. He hasn’t said anything since we hightailed it out of there."

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Nami’s voice was laced with frustration as she turned to the others, clearly not thrilled with the situation.

"What other thing?" Zoro asked, confusion flickering across his face.

Y/N shot him a look—a mix of disbelief and exasperation, her expression practically screaming "Seriously?" She wondered how could someone be so perceptive and yet be as oblivious as a plank. For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if his cluelessness was some sort of elaborate act.

"Oh, gee, I wonder," Nami replied, her voice thick with dry sarcasm before she deadpanned. "The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

Y/N pursed her lips, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her—understanding, skepticism, fear, and anger. The fear and anger tried to take root, but ultimately, understanding won out, its shadow softening the rest.

"Oh, that," Usopp said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Yeah, I don’t really know the guy that well…"

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she turned to Nami. "And let’s think that maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell us," she said, her voice measured, though the tension behind it was undeniable.

Nami shot her a look, her eyes narrowing in a way that could only mean she wasn’t buying it. "But he should’ve. This is something that affects all of us."

Zoro grunted, rolling his eyes. "Doesn’t seem like a big deal."

"You’re his first mate," Nami shot back, rolling her eyes. "Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?"

"Fine," he muttered, clearly not thrilled about it.

It took all of five seconds—barely enough time to blink—before he turned right back around and rejoined them. Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Now this was the Zoro she knew—the one who avoided digging deeper into anything if it required more than minimal effort. The other unsettling attentive version of him she’d dealt with earlier? Long gone.

“He seems fine to me,” Zoro said flatly, as though that was the final word on the matter.

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asks in exasperation.

“Hey!” Luffy suddenly called out, his voice cutting through their conversation and pulling everyone’s attention to him. The group turned to see him standing at the bow, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on a trail. His face was unusually focused, which immediately made Y/N sceptical. “You guys smell that?”

Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated, then took a subtle sniff, her brows knitting together when she couldn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. “Smell what?

“There’s something on the breeze,” Luffy said, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he sniffed again. “Smells like… butter... Soy sauce... And meat.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with the others, searching for a second opinion. “That’s… oddly specific,”

Usopp, still looking around in confusion, squinted at the air. "I can’t smell anything,"

"Think he has brain damage?" Zoro muttered under his breath, watching Luffy sniff the air like a hound on a scent trail.

Nami sighed heavily, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I think that every day."

Usopp, ever the voice of reason- or what passed for it to everyone else- said. "Look, Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog. We’re sitting ducks in here."

"I know, but I smell food, which means there’s someone somewhere cooking!" Luffy reasoned, as if that simple fact somehow made perfect sense to him. He was grinning ear-to-ear, oblivious to the crew's growing frustration.

“Seriously?” Nami groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Of course it’s about food.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her gaze shifting between the thick fog and Luffy’s eager, determined expression. She let out a small sigh and turned to Nami with a shrug. “Hey, it’s better than wandering aimlessly, right? At least his nose has a purpose.”

Nami muttered something under her breath about “purposefully leading us into trouble” but threw her hands up as she headed back to the helm. “Fine, whatever- just tell me where to go."

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy shouted confidently, settling himself on the lamb’s head like it was some kind of throne. He sniffed the air once more, brow furrowing. "No! No! Three degrees back to port."

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate."

Y/N, who had been bored staring into the mist, suddenly perked up as she caught sight of something faint, something slowly beginning to take shape. She squinted, her curiosity piqued. "What is that?"

“Add food to the equation, and suddenly he knows how to navigate,” Nami muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Y/N.

Y/N, who had been idly staring into the mist with growing boredom, suddenly straightened as her eyes caught sight of something faint—something slowly taking shape ahead of them. She squinted, her curiosity sparking. “What is that?”

“Is that land?” Zoro asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as he strained to make out the blurry outline in the distance.

Nami frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It can’t be. There aren’t any islands anywhere near here.”

“What’s a… Baratie?” Usopp asked, his voice a mix of confusion and awe as he read the glowing red letters that seemed to hover like a lighthouse through the mist.

The crew fell silent as the shape came into sharper focus, the mist parting just enough to reveal something massive—a grand, almost otherworldly ship. Its design was like nothing they’d ever seen, whimsical and imposing all at once.

“Is that… a fish boat?” Y/N murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the strange structure. It wasn’t just a ship; it was a spectacle.

The ship continued to take shape, now unmistakably resembling a gigantic wooden fish, complete with intricately carved fins and a tail that seemed almost alive in its fluid design. Y/N’s eyes wandered to the collection of ships docked along its sides, their masts swaying gently with the movement of the water. The group stood in stunned silence, the sheer scale and craftsmanship of the structure leaving them momentarily speechless.

As the Going Merry docked alongside the Baratie, the eerie, solitary impression they had from afar melted away, replaced by a vibrant, bustling scene. The docks were alive with movement and sound. Sailors worked with practiced ease, tying ropes and securing their ships. Merchants were unloading crates filled with who-knew-what, their voices rising above the clatter of goods hitting the dock.

The air carried the faint aroma of sizzling food mixed with sea salt, teasing Y/N’s senses as she caught hints of laughter and animated chatter drifting from the fish-shaped structure itself. What once seemed mysterious and isolated now felt impossibly alive, like the heart of some hidden, seafaring world. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe—and a twinge of curiosity—at the liveliness surrounding them.

As the crew gathered on the deck and observed the bustling activity around the fish-shaped ship.

"Everyone's heading to that fish ship," Zoro remarked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Y/N, leaned over the railing, her awe evident as she stared at the grand fish-shaped vessel below. “It’s huge,”

“That smell,” Nami said thoughtfully, a small hum escaping her lips as the aroma of sizzling food reached her. “I think this place is a restaurant.”

"Then I know what we're gonna do next," Luffy declared, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Nami interjected, "Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

Y/N nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

"Sail back to Syrup Village, where it's safe?" Usopp offered, his tone equally hopeful, clutching at the last thread of safety.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, announced, "Nah, let's eat!"

He turned on his heel and made to bolt toward the docks, but Y/N was faster. She grabbed his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Luffy, wait. We can't go in-"

Luffy turned to her, his grin faltering into a slight frown, his confusion evident as he leaned closer, their faces almost touching. “What? Why not? It’s right there—all we have to do is walk in.”

“Sure, we can,” Y/N began, her eyes flicking down to his less-than-impressive attire with a small, knowing smirk. “But not dressed like this.”

Luffy blinked, his confusion deepening.

“You’re handsome, stud, and yeah, you’ve got charm." Y/N said, patting his arm playfully, “But trust me, as a former waitress, there are places where you have to look the part. And I can tell this is one of them.”

She gestured toward the lively crowd below, some of whom were dressed a little better than the ragtag crew of the Going Merry. Luffy frowned, glancing down at himself as if only now realizing his outfit wasn’t exactly fine dining material.

“So... we’re dressing up to eat?” he asked, clearly baffled.

“Exactly,” Y/N said, smiling at his adorable cluelessness. “And trust me, it’s gonna be worth it.”

Luffy stared at her for a beat before finally shrugging, his grin returning. “Okay! As long as we get to eat after!”

"That fish better have a bar," Zoro mutters as they all make their way to their room for a scrub and a change.

Y/N slipped into a dress that felt just right for the occasion—simple, but with just enough flair to make it special. The fitted top was decorated with delicate floral embroidery that gave it a soft, romantic feel, while the flowing skirt had an uneven, handkerchief hemline that added a touch of fun. The thin straps made it feel light and easy, perfect for the moment. It was the kind of dress that hugged her in all the right places but still felt comfortable, striking that perfect balance between casual and a little bit sexy.

Y/N smirked as she caught her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head to admire her handiwork. Her white, silver hair was styled into a loose, effortless updo, with a few soft strands artfully framing her face, giving her that perfect mix of elegance and I woke up like this charm. A touch of makeup—just enough to highlight her natural features—brought the whole look together: a faint blush on her cheeks, a sleek wing of eyeliner, and a hint of gloss that made her lips look positively kissable.

“Well, don’t I just look like a walking snack,” she quipped, turning to admire the sway of the dress. “Kaya’s got taste, I’ll give her that. I owe her at least three thank-you calls and a bottle of wine.”

With that, she spun on her heel, ready to turn heads.

“You all deeply disappoint me,” Y/N announced dramatically as she joined the others, her eyes scanning their outfits with a look of sheer disapproval. Their clothes were better than before, sure, but it was painfully obvious that she was the only one who had truly put in any effort. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Tragic. All of you,” she added with a flourish, her tone dripping with mock indignation, before muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I have to carry this entire group's sense of style on my back.”

Luffy and Usopp glanced down at their outfits, their frowns deepening. Luffy was wearing a red shirt and overalls—like he’d just walked off a farm—and Usopp had decided to rock pants, a coat, and, for some unfathomable reason, no shirt. Someone help me, Y/N thought. Zoro, as expected, looked exactly the same as always—zero effort given, zero surprises there. Nami, at least, looked decent. Not great, but decent. Y/N clicked her tongue, shaking her head like a disappointed mother.

Nami noticed her scrutiny and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, Y/N. This place is crawling with ugly pirates. We don’t have to look like royalty for them.”

Y/N smirked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she adjusted the strap of her dress. “Sure, Nami, because when I think of my life goals, ‘blending in with ugly pirates’ is right at the top of the list.” She gave the group a once-over, then added with a mock sigh, “Listen, just because the bar is on the floor doesn’t mean I have to trip over it. Standards, darlings. Standards.”

"Can we just go now?" Zoro said to which Luffy nods excitedly.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, smoothing her hand over her dress like she was trying to gather the patience to deal with them. Finally, she gave the group a look of mock exasperation, her tone dripping with playful judgment.

“Alright, come on, let’s get this over with before I change my mind and pretend I don’t know any of you.” She started walking ahead, throwing a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Be good, you’re all one embarrassing moment away from being disowned."

As they strolled through the bustling docks, Y/N walked with her head held high and a confident grin tugging at her lips. She could feel the stares following her, lingering longer than usual. Did it feel good to be admired? Absolutely—it always did. But she wasn’t naive; she knew exactly why they were staring. Her appearance, her aura, her very presence practically demanded attention. That’s one of her traits as a siren, after all. 

Still, the attention was something she chose to brush off… mostly. Every so often, her smirk widened just a fraction, a subtle acknowledgement that yes, she knew she was turning heads, and yes, she was enjoying it more than she’d ever admit.

“Wow, people do stare at you,” Usopp muttered, his wide eyes darting around the dock as merchants and pirates. His tone was half amazement, half bewilderment.

Y/N’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eye as she smoothly linked her arm with his.

“Why, yes, they do,” she replied with a playful lilt. “Care to be my arm candy for the evening, champ? Strictly for appearances, of course.”

Usopp’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“I… uh… okay,” he stammered, trying to muster a confident smile.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Relax, Usopp. Just think of it as adding another daring tale to your collection.”

He straightened up a bit, a spark of pride flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, more to himself than to her.

As they continued down the dock, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

“Besides,” she added with a playful wink, “who wouldn’t want to be seen with the most dashing slinger here?”

Usopp smirked, his chest puffing out as her confidence seemed to spark something in him. With his newfound swagger, he added an exaggerated strut to his step. He looked as though he’d just been crowned king of the dock.

Y/N chuckled and glanced back at Nami, who was trailing behind with Luffy, who was looking at everyone and everything all at once and Zoro, who looked like he rather be anywhere else. The orange-haired girl rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of amusement on her face that betrayed her usual exasperation. Y/N shot her a playful grin.

“Want to be my other arm candy?” Y/N teased, holding out her free arm with an exaggerated flourish. Her grin was as charming as it was mischievous. “I promise, you’ll steal just as many stares as me.”

“Pass,” she said, though the playful tone in her voice made it clear she was more amused than annoyed. “I think you’ve got enough attention for all of us,”

Y/N chuckled, turning back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on being part of the most glamorous trio this dock has ever—and will ever—see.”

She barely finished her sentence when a voice cut through the noise of the docks, calling her name.

“Y/N?”

Her entire body froze, the familiar voice making her breath catch in her throat. She snapped her head toward the source, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tallen?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

Standing a few feet away was a man with a face she’d never forgotten—dimples carved into his handsome smile, a warmth in his eyes that brought a rush of memories crashing down on her. The sight of him stole her breath.

“Oh, the stars, it’s you!” she exclaimed, a wide, joyous smile breaking across her face as she let go of Usopp without a second thought. Before anyone could react, she all but ran into the man’s arms, colliding with him like a wave meeting the shore. He wrapped her in a hug so firm and familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Sweet Y/N,” Tallen murmured, his voice soft and steady, the way she remembered.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered, holding him tighter, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Far too long,” he agreed, his arms squeezing her just a bit more.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning into the hug as if letting go would break her. 

“I’m glad to see you alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Tallen replied softly, his words carrying the weight of shared history and loss. He was her fellow Siren—one of the last few, the dwindling remnants of their kind.

They lingered for a moment longer, their arms reluctantly falling away as they both seemed hesitant to break the connection. The warmth of the embrace lingered, but reality began to creep back in.

That’s when it happened—a deliberate clearing of a throat. Nami.

Y/N blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She turned to see Nami standing there with an arched brow, arms crossed, and a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. Behind her, Usopp was gaping like he’d just witnessed the twist ending of a great story, and Zoro, as usual, looked unimpressed but faintly intrigued and Luffy who had a trademark smile on his face yet curious. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, laughing awkwardly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Uh… introductions.” She glanced at Tallen and back to them. “Everyone, this is Tallen. He’s…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before she finished, “He’s an old friend.”

Tallen, ever the charmer, gave a polite nod to the group, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Pleasure to meet you all.“ 

Before anyone had a chance to properly introduce themselves, Y/N cut in, her tone light but firm.

“I’ll meet you lot inside, okay?” she said, flashing them a quick smile.

Luffy looked between them, and after a second, he nodded grinning. “Okay, I’ll save you a seat.” 

Usopp muttered something about not wanting to be left behind and followed after Luffy. Nami lingered for a moment, giving Y/N a long look before sighing and heading toward the entrance.

Zoro, as usual, barely reacted, simply grunting, “Don’t take too long,” before following the others.

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin, already turning back to Tallen.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Tallen, a flood of emotions washing over her. The last time she’d seen him was about three or four years ago, and while he still looked very much the same, there was a new air of maturity about him—just enough to make her realize how much time had passed.

“It’s really you,” Y/N murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief, as though she still wasn’t entirely convinced this moment was real.

“In the flesh,” Tallen replied with a nod, his own expression softening. He gave her a once-over, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “You look older.”

Y/N let out a huff of laughter, lightly pushing him on the shoulder. “And you still have the subtlety of a cannonball.”

Her playful smile faltered slightly as her eyes searched his face, her voice quiet but hopeful. “What about the others? Lyan, Kiku, Ren? Are they still—”

“Yes,” Tallen interrupted gently, his tone steady and reassuring. “They’re here with me.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Where?”

“Probably asleep in the room on our ship,” Tallen explained, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “We had a late-night performance last night.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “You got a ship?”

“A small one,” he said, trying (and failing) to hide just how proud he was. “But yes, we did.”

Without hesitation, Y/N threw her arms around him again, pulling him into a warm embrace. 

“I’m so happy for you—for all of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with genuine emotion.

Tallen’s smile widened as he held her, and for a moment, they simply existed in the comfort of the reunion.

Lyan, Kiku, and Ren—like Y/N and Tallen—were Sirens. They were the lucky few who had escaped the hands of those who sought to harm or exploit them. Together, they had formed their own little family, bound by survival and shared pain. They’d taught Y/N so much in the time they travelled together, how to survive in a world that wanted them gone.

And like true Sirens, they dedicated themselves to their art—music, song, and performance—using their gifts to dazzle. She could still hear their songs in her memory—hauntingly beautiful, filled with life and defiance. They’d always been on the move, hopping from island to island, hitching rides with mercenaries or, when times were desperate, even pirates. And yes, while swimming is a faster option, the risk is bigger. Staying in one place too long was a death sentence; that was the first lesson Y/N had learned from them. And now, the thought that they had their own ship, a small but significant freedom, made her heart swell with pride.

“You’ve come so far,” Y/N said softly, pulling back slightly to look at Tallen. “You all have.”

“And so have you,” Tallen replied, his tone warm and genuine. “I’m glad we found you again. Tell me, who are those people you’re here with?” 

“They’re… uh, friends,” Y/N replied, her tone unsure as she glanced over her shoulder toward the Going Merry. She hesitated, catching the way Tallen was giving her a pointed, knowing look. Finally, she sighed and added, “It’s complicated—and a long story.”

“Well,” Tallen said with a grin, leaning back slightly, “good thing we’re leaving tomorrow morning. That gives us all night to catch up."

"Okay," Y/N nods.

“Good,” Tallen said with satisfaction, taking a step back. “See you later at the bar, okay?”

“See you there,” Y/N replied, watching him as he walked away, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Finally, Y/N stepped inside the ship, and her breath hitched at the sight before her. The Baratie was nothing short of magnificent, a unique blend of maritime charm and upscale elegance.

However, before Y/N could truly take in the grandeur of the Baratie's interior, her gaze locked onto the host near the entrance. Her back stiffened instinctively, and though she kept her composure, the small, well-concealed gills along her neck fluttered. They only did that when another sea creature was nearby.

He was a Fish-man.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to hum with a quiet, unspoken tension. He knew. Of course, he knew. The thing about Sirens—unique among sea creatures—was that no matter how perfectly they blended in with humans, their presence sang to others of the sea. It wasn’t something tangible, but like a melody carried on a current, it was impossible to ignore for those born of the ocean.

It wasn’t just recognition. It was history, unspoken and heavy, carried in their shared gaze. Sirens and other sea folk—whether Fish-men or Merfolk—had always harbored a quiet animosity toward one another. Sirens had something the others didn’t: choice. Sirens had a freedom that others of the sea could only dream of: the ability to seamlessly blend in with humans, to walk on land or dive into the ocean at will, and to choose when to wear a tail and when to shed it. It was a luxury that set them apart—and not always in a good way. Resentment had festered for centuries, compounded by the Sirens’ refusal to bend the knee to King Neptune’s rule.

They were a secretive, lone species.

Yet, in the aftermath of the near-massacre of her kin, these old grudges had softened, replaced by mutual, unspoken support among the remnants of the sea's diverse inhabitants.

The host's polite smile never wavered as he addressed her. "Is there anything I can help you with, madam?"

Y/N took a steadying breath, reminding herself of the fragile peace that now existed and the necessity of keeping her composure.

“My friends,” she began, her tone calm but deliberate, “they came in here just now. Uh—one of them had a straw hat—”

“Ah, yes,” the host interrupted smoothly, a faint trace of mockery curling the edges of his voice. “The ‘future king’ of the pirates.” His words dripped with wry amusement as he turned, gesturing toward a table at which her friends were currently occupying. “It’ll be right there, madam.”

Y/N sent him a polite smile, the corners of her lips curving just enough to convey gratitude. But her eyes held a subtle, knowing look—a quiet reminder of who and what she was.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady and composed, before making her way towards her friends

Y/N let out a quiet huff as she descended the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished wooden floor. Internally, she was fuming. Tallen, she thought with a simmering annoyance. After this meal, I’m slapping his dimples clean off for not mentioning the Fish-Men.

But in her mild frustration and distraction, she didn’t notice the waiter stepping out from the side with a tray balanced on one hand.

They collided.

The sudden impact caused her to stumble slightly, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand brushing against the waiter's arm. A soft clatter followed as a single glass wobbled on the tray, but before it could fall, the waiter caught it effortlessly, his reflexes as smooth as silk.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted, her voice a mix of embarrassment and genuine apology, a faint flush dusting her cheeks.

"No need to apologize, mademoiselle," he said smoothly, turning to face her with a charming smile that she was sure he thought could probably disarm a shipful of pirates, "If anything, I should thank the heavens for allowing me to cross paths with such a captivating beauty."

Y/N blinked at him, caught momentarily off guard by his line, but only for a heartbeat. Oh, he's one of those. Her lips curved into a sly, confident smile as she straightened her dress, effortlessly slipping into her usual charm.

"Is that so?" she teased, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Well, if fate's handing out meetings, perhaps it's my lucky day to encounter a waiter with such impeccable reflexes and a silver tongue to match."

The waiter's eyes widened for a brief moment, her words catching him off guard, but his signature charm quickly returned. He straightened his posture, one hand adjusting his tie as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Ah, mademoiselle, you honor me,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and velvety. “But let me assure you, my reflexes pale in comparison to the elegance of your words. It seems fate isn’t just kind—it’s downright generous today.”

His gaze softened as he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “And if this is your lucky day, then I’d consider it mine too. After all, it’s not every day I get to save a stunning woman from the perils of a wobbling glass.”

“Smooth,” she said and leaned in slightly, her expression mischievous, her voice dropping to a low, playful lilt. “But tell me, loverboy, is that line part of the menu, or is it just a special off-the-cuff dish you whip up for unsuspecting women?”

Sanji blinked, the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks, but he quickly tried to recover, clearing his throat. “I-"

Her eyes sparkled as she continued, barely giving him a chance to recover.

“Because if it’s the latter, I must say, it’s quite the treat. Though…” her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. “I can’t help but wonder if you’ve got something even better in your repertoire.”

Sanji blinked, momentarily at a loss, his cheeks dusted with a soft pink hue as he struggled to regain his composure. He adjusted his tie again, swallowing hard, his usual suave demeanor slipping under the weight of her effortless teasing.

“M-mademoiselle,” he stammered, his voice still coated with charm, though now tinged with genuine fluster. “I assure you, my repertoire has no limits, and I’d be honored to… to serve you something truly unforgettable.”

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his.

"You know," she said softly, reaching up to straighten his slightly askew tie, "flattery will get you everywhere." Her fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, her touch light and teasing.

The waiter's breath hitched, his composure slipping as a deep flush spread across his cheeks. "I-I... um..."

Y/N leaned in, faces ever so closely, she whispered, "But only if you can keep up." With that, she pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have friends waiting."

She turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving the flustered waiter staring after her, his heart pounding in his chest. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Too easy.

Y/N made her way over to her friends, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She paused when she reached the table, her eyes scanning the group briefly before landing on Zoro, who was comfortably perched at the edge of the bench.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “please stand up so I can sit next to Nami.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with sitting on the other side?”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression turning mock-serious as she placed a hand on her hip. “Because I prefer not to be in the splash zone when Luffy starts eating. You know how he gets.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath, muttering something about "drama queens," but he stood up anyway, shifting to another spot and letting Y/N slide gracefully into the seat next to Nami without a fuss.

She turned to him with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thank you, my love. Your cooperation is, as always, greatly appreciated.”

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro muttered, settling into his new seat.

Nami chuckled softly beside Y/N. "Always know how to get your way, don't you?"

Y/N winked. "It's a gift, really."

The waiter approached their table with practiced ease, balancing a tray of beverages for the group. One by one, he placed the drinks in front of the others, his movements smooth and deliberate. Just as Y/N was about to ask for hers, he surprised her by setting a bottle of wine on the table in front of her with a small flourish.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she glanced up at him. His smirk was confident, almost playful, as he leaned slightly closer.

“A fine wine for a finer ladies,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm.

The corner of Y/N’s lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing casually.

“Flattering,” she replied, tilting her head. “But I don’t remember ordering this."

Y/N turned to Nami faking curiosity, "Did you, pumpkin?"

"No, just water," Nami said as she picked up the glass of water.

"I see," Y/N turns to the waiter and tilts her head. "Does it come with the compliments of the establishment or the waiter?”

“Consider it a personal recommendation,” he said, straightening slightly, though there was now a faint hint of nervousness behind his confident demeanor. With practiced precision, he poured a bit of the wine into her glass, the rich liquid swirling smoothly as it settled.

“The food will be out shortly. Enjoy,” he added, flashing one last ever-so-charming smile before gracefully excusing himself.

Y/N watched him go with an amused smirk before raising her glass. “Well, salud,” she said, the word rolling off her tongue effortlessly as she took a sip. She paused for a moment, savoring the taste, then gave a small nod of approval.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling as she placed the glass back on the table. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less after that performance.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he?”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, he’s got more than nerve—he’s got good taste in wine, at least.”

“So, who was your friend you were talking to?” Luffy asked, his voice muffled as he shoved another bread bun into his mouth without a care for table manners.

Usopp grinned, leaning forward with his eyebrows wiggling teasingly. “A boyfriend?”

“Gods, no,” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine. “Like I said, just an old friend. One I didn’t think I’d ever see again.”

“Why?” Nami chimed in, her tone laced with curiosity.

Y/N paused for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass as she felt their collective gazes on her. She glanced around the table, noting how everyone seemed genuinely interested—except Zoro, of course, who only looked vaguely curious in that nonchalant way of his.

“Well,” she began, her voice casual but carrying a note of fondness, “me and a few others used to travel together, performing and stuff, y’know.” She gestured vaguely with her free hand, her eyes flicking between them. “We were kind of like a troupe—dancers, musicians, storytellers. We’d go from town to town, putting on shows for whoever would watch.”

“Oh, were they your crew—” Luffy started, crumbs still falling from his mouth.

“No,” Y/N interrupted softly, her tone firmer this time, her gaze dropping to the glass in her hand. “They’re no crew. They’re family.”

She fidgeted slightly in her seat, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip as if it might steady her thoughts.

“They’re like an uh—” she began, then shook her head with a quiet laugh, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Like a shoal of fish or a covey of birds. Travelling from island to island letting the ocean take them as it wishes. Never staying in one spot long enough to leave footprints.”

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Of course, it was Zoro who asked, his tone direct, his eyes focused on her like he was cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to answer, but then her gaze shifted to Nami, who was watching her just as intently, curiosity swimming in her eyes. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass, and for a moment, the table felt far too quiet, far too heavy.

But as if the universe took pity on her, the food arrived at just the right moment, breaking the tension. Plates upon plates were placed on the table, filling the air with rich, mouthwatering aromas. Y/N let out a silent breath of relief, leaning back slightly as the waiter set down her dish.

She picked up her fork, her expression brightening ever so slightly as she joined in the excitement of the food.

“Finally, something to stop Luffy from eating the table itself,” she teased lightly, earning a laugh from Usopp and a grin from Nami.

The question lingered in the air, unspoken but not forgotten. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t let it resurface. The answer was too close, too raw. The past had no business here, at this table, at this moment. Not when she’d worked so hard to leave it behind.

The food was nothing short of spectacular, each bite bursting with flavor that left Y/N savoring every moment. It didn’t take long for the plates to clear—unsurprising, given Luffy and Usopp’s ravenous appetites. She barely had a chance to blink before half the dishes had vanished under their relentless enthusiasm.

Still, Y/N took her time, indulging in the meal like royalty. She filled herself to the brim, relishing every delicious bite until she leaned back in her chair, her stomach pleasantly full and her breaths coming slower. She could hardly move, but it was worth it. Every bite was a little slice of heaven, and she wasn’t about to let a single morsel go to waste.

As she leaned back in her chair, a hand resting on her overly full stomach, she let out a soft groan of satisfaction. “If I die tonight, tell the world it was the Baratie that did me in,”

I can’t eat another bite," Usopp moaned dramatically, staring longingly at the piece of cheese on his fork. "But it’s so good."

"Oh man, you said it," Zoro muttered, popping the cap off yet another beer like he was just getting started.

Nami sighed, leaning back in her chair with a hand on her stomach. "I’m not gonna be hungry for a week."

And then, of course, there was Luffy—completely unaffected. Still chewing on a massive steak, he looked up and, with the kind of unshakable enthusiasm only he could manage, asked, "Should we order dessert?"

"Yes," Y/N grunted, her voice muffled as she leaned back, trying to make room in her overstuffed stomach. She might have been at capacity, but her notorious sweet tooth wasn’t about to let her skip dessert. Priorities, she thought.

"I already got mine," Zoro said, lifting his beer meaningfully as if it was the only dessert he needed.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like fireworks, his hands clapping against the table as he finally set his steak down. "Mmm, that reminds me! We should make a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

Y/N turned her head to look at Luffy, her expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement as she watched him grab his glass of milk. She sighed, unable to suppress a small smirk, and reached for her wine glass, holding it up lazily.

“To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!” Luffy cheered, his grin stretching wide as he clinked his glass enthusiastically with Usopp’s.

“Yeah!” Usopp echoed, raising his mug like they’d just conquered the world.

Y/N, however, pursed her lips, quietly letting her glass go down. The memory of being so dangerously close to recapture by the Marines clung to her like a shadow, one she wasn’t ready to toast to. Victory wasn’t exactly how she’d describe that ordeal.

“No, I’m sorry,” Nami’s voice cut sharply through the celebration, her expression firm as she turned to Luffy. Her eyes narrowed. “What victory exactly?”

“Against the Marines,” Luffy said with unabashed excitement, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our very first battle, and we crushed them!”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely masked. “I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…”

“Two dozen, at least,” Usopp mumbled behind his beer.

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued, her tone rising as her exasperation grew. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea right now.”

“We’re not, though. Luffy saved us,” Usopp chimed in, as if that single fact could erase the chaos of it all.

Y/N let out a slow, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension brewing. She could already see where this conversation was heading.

"Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Nami deadpanned, her voice sharp enough to cut through the remaining chatter at the table.

"Nami, please..." Y/N said softly, trying to settle her down, though she already knew it was a losing battle.

"No, Y/N." Nami turned to her, her tone edged with irritation, then immediately shifted her focus to Luffy. "He didn’t think to mention that his grandfather was a Marine. And not just any Marine, a vice-admiral! I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for that."

"You raided a Marine base," Zoro interjected, as if that explained everything. "Of course that’ll make you a target."

Nami swung her gaze to him, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If I’d stolen the map, no one would’ve even known I was there. As opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office."

Before the tension could thicken, Sanji—the waiter, as Y/N now knew him—appeared at the table with his usual calm and charm. "Your bill, sir,"

“Ah,” Luffy replied with his trademark carefree smile which took a moment to appear. He took the bill, scribbled something on it without a second thought, and handed it back. “Thank you, my good man.”

Y/N’s frown deepened as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing on the exchange. Her mind shot back to Shell’s Town, to when Luffy ate at Food Foo. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Luffy..." Y/N said cautiously, her voice slower now, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Sanji glanced at the bill, and a peculiar smile spread across his face—a smile that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"No, sir. Thank you," Sanji said smoothly, his tone almost... too pleasant.

Oh, gods. As a former waitress, she recognized that smile. That was the you’re-about-to-regret-this smile. She glanced around at her friends to see if anyone else had caught on. Was she seriously the only one who understood what was about to happen?

She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "Luffy—"

But Luffy, ever oblivious, kept going, raising his voice slightly in what he probably thought was an inspirational tone. "I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them they can’t just roll over us!"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose as her suspicions grew. Luffy, please, stop talking.

"This crew, our crew, can handle anything!" Luffy declared with a triumphant grin.

And as if fate itself couldn’t resist the opportunity for drama, a booming voice cut through the restaurant, rattling the walls and silencing the entire room.

"WHO THE HELL IS MONKEY D. LUFFY?"

Y/N groaned, her head falling into her hands. "Here we go." She looked up just in time to see Luffy look back at the head chef and raise his hand.

"Here!" Luffy called out, completely unfazed.

Y/N slumped back into her seat, muttering under her breath. "Oh, stars,"

Zeff's scowl deepened as he strode over, the crowd parting in his wake.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit," He stopped beside their table, towering over them, glaring at Luffy, who was calmly drinking his milk. "You eat, you pay."

Luffy looked up, unfazed. "I think you’re confused."

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as she anticipated Luffy's explanation.

"The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet," Luffy continued confidently.

Zeff's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, and how’s that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab," Luffy said with a grin.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Zeff asked, his tone flat.

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking with the future King of the Pirates," Luffy declared, as if that would make it all go better. "And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m gonna come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

The chef let out a low chuckle. “I’ve got a better idea.”

And just like that, Luffy was unceremoniously hauled off toward the kitchens.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long breath of resignation as her gaze drifted off into nothingness. She made no effort to intervene—it wasn’t worth it.

“I need a drink,” Nami muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Yeah, something stronger would be nice,” Y/N sighed, her tone weary.

The four made their way to the bar located in the mouth of the fish, settling into a quiet corner. Zoro was already on his third beer, Nami and Usopp on their first, while Y/N was still trying to decide what to order. Her deliberation was interrupted when a bartender approached and set a large cocktail down in front of her.

Y/N blinked, looking up at the bartender with confusion. “Uh... sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, he bought it for you,” the bartender cut in, nodding toward an older man perched at the bar. The man raised his glass and winked at her with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“Oh, goodie,” Y/N muttered under her breath, though she still managed to force a polite smile in the man’s direction. She turned back to the bartender quickly. “You can take it back. I—”

Before she could finish, Usopp reached over, snatching the drink with a grin. “No, I’ll take it!” he said cheerfully, taking a big sip. His face lit up almost immediately.

“Oh, this is good!” he said, waving enthusiastically at the older man. “THANK YOU!”

Y/N stared at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, as she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Nami leaned back in her chair. “You’ve got some admirers, Y/N.”

“Admirers I don’t want,” Y/N shot back, glaring playfully at Usopp as he continued to sip the drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Usopp.”

“Hey, waste not, want not.” He took another big sip, completely unbothered, while Nami rolled her eyes and Zoro chuckled into his beer.

"Speaking of waste not," Y/N said with a sly smirk, reaching over to grab Usopp's barely-touched beer. "I’ll take that off your hands, champ."

Usopp, completely absorbed in savouring the oversized cocktail, simply hummed in agreement, nodding absentmindedly as he took another enthusiastic sip.

“Thanks, generous as always,” Y/N chuckled, raising the glass to her lips, watching as Usopp continued to obliviously inhale the cocktail, none the wiser.

That was until Zoro, in an uncharacteristic act of charity, warned the boy, “Pace yourself.”

Usopp paused mid-sip, looking down at the drink with a skeptical expression. “I don’t even think there’s liquor in this. It tastes just like candy.”

Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully, a teasing hum escaping her lips. “Wouldn’t be so sure,”

Zoro took a swig of his beer and added dryly, “Yeah, last time I said that, I woke up face down under a table.”

Y/N burst out laughing, her grin wide and teasing. "Oh, I would’ve paid good berry to see that."

“Yeah, I bet you would’ve,” Zoro scoffed, his gaze shifting to Nami, who was staring intently at her glass, lost in thought. He raised an eyebrow before looking away. “That glass have gold on the bottom or what?"

Nami blinked, snapping out of her trance. “Hmm?”

“You haven’t stopped staring at it,” Zoro pointed out, his tone blunt as usual.

Nami sighed, clearly debating something, before finally caving and looking between Zoro and Y/N. “You seriously don’t think what Luffy did is messed up?”

Y/N’s teasing grin faded as she glanced down at her own drink. She could understand where Nami was coming from. Truly, she did. But who was she to demand someone to share their secrets? To dig up secrets or memories that Luffy clearly wanted to leave buried? That wasn’t her place.

“Yeah, he should’ve told us,” Zoro admitted, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. He leaned back in his chair before adding, “But in case you didn’t notice, we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers… what’s a vice-admiral gonna do to us that’s any worse?”

Y/N lifted her glass, her voice quieter but steady. “And who are we to demand something like that out of him? I’m sure he has his reasons for keeping it to himself.”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely contained. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t get caught. Not when I’m so close…”

Her words trailed off abruptly as if she realized she had said too much. Her lips pressed together tightly, and Y/N made no effort to pry. She wouldn’t judge—she understood the weight of secrets all too well.

After a tense moment, Nami placed her beer down and forced a casual look. “Uh, who’s ready for another drink? My treat.”

Zoro grunted in approval, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “My favorite kind of drink.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, “Can’t say no to that.”

With that, Nami swiftly stood up and headed to the bar, leaving the trio behind at the table. The moment she was out of earshot, Usopp leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “She’s hiding something.”

Y/N chuckled softly, tipping back the last of her beer. She set the empty glass down with a gentle clink and met Usopp’s wide-eyed gaze with a knowing look.

“Aren’t we all?” she replied, her tone light but laced with truth.

Zoro glanced at her but said nothing, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his beer.

Suddenly, Y/N felt two strong hands grab her from behind, lifting her right out of her chair with a jolt. Her heart nearly skipped a beat, but the instinct to panic vanished as soon as she recognized the culprit. Only one person would do something so ridiculous.

“But look at you!!” Ren exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement as he hugged her tightly and started walking away from the table, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Y/N groaned but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Ren, put me down!” she demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting.

When he finally set her down, Y/N turned and froze, her eyes lighting up as she saw Tallen, Lyan, and Kiku standing nearby, all grinning from ear to ear.

For a moment, she just stared at them, taking it all in—the familiar faces, the warmth in their smiles, the wave of nostalgia and relief that washed over her. Then, without hesitation, she let out a shriek of pure joy and jumped forward, wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Oh gods, I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly from the overwhelming emotion. Hugging them again felt like coming home, like a missing piece of herself had been returned. The weight of everything she’d been carrying seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

They laughed as they hugged her back, each one holding her tightly as if to make up for lost time. Tallen stood to the side, his arms crossed and a big grin plastered across his face as he watched the reunion.

“I told you she’d be here,” Tallen said smugly, glancing at the others.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her hands still on Kiku's and Lyan’s shoulders, her smile wide and genuine. “Gods, I miss you all."

“We missed you more!” Ren grinned, squeezing her back tightly.

Kiku laughed softly, her voice warm. “We thought we’d never see you again.”

Lyan, ever the quiet one, simply smiled, his eyes crinkling with the emotion he didn’t need to say out loud.

"Tallen told us you’ll be playing with us tonight…" Kiku said, her voice lilting with both curiosity and excitement as she looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before arching an eyebrow at Tallen, who was standing nearby, grinning like he’d just pulled off the biggest scheme of the century.

“Did he now?” Y/N asked, her tone teasing as she folded her arms, giving Tallen a mock glare. "Funny, because Tallen didn’t ask me about that.”

Tallen chuckled, holding up his hands defensively. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just like old times! One night, one set—think of it as a reunion gig.”

“A reunion gig?” Y/N repeated, raising both eyebrows now. “You mean the kind where you spring it on me last second and I have no time to prepare?”

“Oh, please,” Ren chimed in, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You could do this in your sleep. You’re Y/N—you’re never not ready.”

She sighed, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she crossed her arms. “You guys really don’t give me a choice, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Lyan chimed in with a laugh, nudging her playfully. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll be just like old times.”

Kiku clasped her hands together, her smile widening. “We’ve missed this, and we’ve missed you.”

Y/N sighed, looking around at their expectant faces, her faux-annoyance melting into a small smile.

“You all are impossible, you know that?” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. But only because I am amazing and don’t need prep time.”

The group burst into cheers, Kiku clapping her hands in delight. “I knew you wouldn’t say no!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, waving them off but unable to keep the grin off her face. “But don’t blame me if I upstage all of you tonight.”

Tallen smirked. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After a few drinks—just enough for Y/N to feel a pleasant buzz warming her cheeks—and some planning for tonight's performance, the nostalgia began to creep in. The laughter, the easy camaraderie of old friends… it felt like slipping back into a part of herself she hadn’t touched in a long time.

Soon, the time for the show finally came. Excusing herself with a grin, Y/N made her way to the Going Merry to grab her guitar. When she returned, the bar was alive with excitement, the anticipation practically crackling in the air.

Tallen, ever the showman, was already commanding the attention of the crowd with his infectious energy and booming voice. He stood center of the makeshift stage, Den Den Mushi in hand, hyping up the room like a seasoned entertainer. When his eyes landed on Y/N stepping into view, he broke into a wide grin, his charisma cranked up to full volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Pirates, sailors, and scallywags alike!” he called out, his voice booming through the Den Den Mushi. “Prepare yourselves for a treat like no other! She’s sailed with the best, dazzled the rest, and left a trail of awestruck audiences in her wake! The one, the only, the songbird of the seas—give it up for Y/N!”

The audience erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause as Tallen stepped aside, his grin as wide as ever while he gestured grandly for her to take the stage. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a playful laugh, shaking her head at his theatrics. Adjusting the strap of her guitar, she made her way to the centre of the stage with a light skip to her step and a twist that made her skirt flare just slightly, adding her own bit of signature flair to the entrance.

Her smile widened as she took in the energy of the crowd, the cheers lifting her spirits even higher. She gave a mock curtsy, her guitar still slung across her shoulder and leaned into the Den Den with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Alright, alright,” she said, her voice warm but teasing as the applause began to settle. “No need to go overboard—Tallen already made me sound like I’m the second coming of Gold Roger.”

The audience chuckled, and Tallen shot her wink. "Just saying it as I see it, my dear."

“Alright, folks, let me be honest with you—Tallen hyped me up so much that even I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually that good,” Y/N said, grinning. “But hey, if I mess up, just remember—you paid for the drinks, not the talent.”

She let the crowd laugh again, her timing impeccable as she adjusted her guitar. “But in all seriousness, thank you for having me tonight. I don’t usually play in restaurants shaped like fish—it’s a very niche market—but hey, there’s a first for everything.”

A few people cheered in agreement, and Y/N gave a casual shrug. “Now, let’s get to the part where I make you forget how much you spent on tonight’s drinks. If I pull that off, I’m expecting a hefty tip.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Y/N’s smile widened as her fingers brushed the strings lightly in preparation. “Alright, enough chatter. You’ve got drinks in hand, I’ve got a guitar, and we’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Let’s make it count.”

The performance began with Y/N leading the charge, her guitar striking bright, rhythmic chords that immediately set an upbeat tone. Lyan joined in, the lively jingle of his tambourine adding a playful, danceable cadence. The two played off each other seamlessly, their chemistry sparking an infectious energy that had the crowd tapping their feet.

With a quick nod from Y/N, the rest of the group jumped in. Tallen’s mandolin brought a sharp, vibrant melody, Ren’s drums added a driving, steady beat, and Kiku’s violin soared with a celebratory tone that tied everything together. The room came alive as the music burst into full swing, blending into a rich, layered sound.

The energy in the room shifted, the crowd coming alive with movement as the song picked up speed.

"I thought this path was ours to tread, But now it feels like we’ve been misled, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore. Your reasons crash like waves at sea, Still, here you are, still here with me, On this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

When the chorus hit, the energy exploded. The band’s instruments blended into a dynamic symphony, each member adding their unique flair. The crowd clapped along, swept up in the fast-paced rhythm. Y/N almost laughed mid-strum when her eyes landed on a drunk Usopp, who had claimed a tiny patch of open floor as his personal dance stage. With exaggerated movements and questionable rhythm, he twirled and stomped.

"If I follow you to the blue, And let my heart drift back to you, Will you stay with me forever, Or disappear like fading beams? If I give my soul to the restless tide, And let its rhythm be our guide, Will it hold us close together, Or wash away our dreams?"

As the band transitioned into the second verse, the room buzzed with vibrant energy. Y/N’s voice carried the emotional weight of the lyrics, weaving effortlessly into the lively rhythm of the instruments. The crowd was fully engaged—some clapped along, others swayed to the music and a few near the bar cheered, their laughter mingling with the lively tune. Even the more reserved patrons couldn’t resist tapping their feet or nodding along.

"You chose a path I couldn’t take, Now here we stand, the ground could break, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore.

Take my hand, don’t let it fall, Where does it end, if anywhere at all, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

The band played with seamless harmony—Y/N’s steady guitar leading, Kiku’s violin soaring, Ren’s drums driving the rhythm, and Tallen’s mandolin adding a playful melody, all tied together by Lyan’s tambourine. The crowd fed off their energy, with a few pirates dancing along with Usopp, turning a small patch of the floor into thier personal, chaotic dance stage.

Y/N caught herself smiling as she glanced over at her friends. Nami was bopping her head in time with the rhythm, a grin spread across her face as if she couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of the song. Zoro, ever the stoic one, sat back with his usual indifference, but Y/N noticed the slight tap of his foot in time with the beat, betraying his enjoyment. Her fingers moved fluidly over the strings, effortlessly keeping pace with the upbeat rhythm, her smile widening as the song carried on to the last verse.

"I’m just a shadow in your light, A fleeting trace in the starless night. The ocean holds your broken vow, A love you couldn’t cherish now. I know, I know, it’s hard to bear, I lost you here, it’s just not fair. I know, I know, the tide won’t stay, It sweeps our dreams, it pulls away. I know, I know, it’s all too real, I lost you here, I’ll never heal."

With one final strum of the guitar and a unified flourish from the band, the music ended in a crescendo, leaving the crowd cheering, whistling, and stomping their approval. The energy in the room was electric, the upbeat ending turning what could have been a somber farewell into a celebration of persistence, love, and life’s tides.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, taking a small bow as the applause roared around her. Turning to her bandmates, she exchanged a wide grin with them, all of them clearly riding the high of the performance.

“Alright, drinks on you guys, yeah?” Y/N teased, her voice light and playful, carrying easily over the cheers and laughter that filled the room.

Tallen, grinned as he turned to her, his hand dramatically pressed over his heart.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” Tallen said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity, the perfect blend of theatrical and heartfelt, “just one more ballad, yeah? Promise.”

“Oh, I don’t know, T." Y/N tilted her head, leaning back slightly as if the weight of his words was just too much to bear. "Carrying this whole show on my back is exhausting, you know.”

The crowd laughed, and Tallen didn’t miss a beat. He turned sharply to face the audience, his charisma cranked up to full volume, arms spread wide like a ringmaster addressing his adoring crowd.

“Come on, folks,” he called out, his grin dazzling and infectious. “Don’t you want to hear more? You’re not tired of her yet, are you?”

The room erupted with a thunderous cheer, whistles and applause filling the air as people shouted their agreement. Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tallen with a playful smirk as the crowd roared around them.

Leaning toward the Den Den, she gave him a mock glare, her voice dripping with teasing charm. “You really are shameless, aren’t you? Riding my coattails like this,”

Tallen shrugged dramatically, his grin widening. “What can I say? They love you, darling. I’m just the hype man making sure the masses get what they want.”

“And here I thought I was the show-off,” Her grin widened as she addressed the laughing audience, her tone light but commanding, filled with charm.

“Alright, alright, you win. Let’s give them something they’ll be singing in their sleep.” She threw Tallen a cheeky glance. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, T. I’m watching you.”

With that, the band launched into the next song, the instruments bursting to life in perfect harmony. The room came alive once more, and the audience swept up in the rhythm, completely enthralled by the magic of the performance.

Soon, the show came to an end, much to Y/N’s dismay. The applause was deafening as she strummed the final chord, giving the crowd one last radiant smile and a playful wave. “You’ve been amazing—don’t forget to tip your bartenders!” she called, earning another round of laughter and cheers before stepping down from the stage.

She was immediately met by a wave of smiling patrons, each vying for a moment of her time. Compliments poured in, one after another—people singing her praises, declaring her the highlight of their night. Some handed her Berry as tokens of appreciation, while others offered bottles of liquor, which she accepted with a bright grin and a playful “You sure know how to spoil a girl.” A few even declared their undying love, and Y/N laughed, placing a hand over her heart. “Flattered, truly. I’ll consider proposals after my second bottle.”

Her natural charm and ease kept the interactions lively, but eventually, she managed to slip away, the bottle of rum in her hand clinking softly as she met up with Tallen. Together, they wandered off to a quieter, more secluded part of the fish-ship, near the docks. The sounds of the lively restaurant faded into the background as they sat down at the edge, letting their feet dangle over the water.

“Been too long,” Tallen said, breaking the silence as he gazed out over the gently rippling water.

Y/N nodded, her fingers idly tapping the neck of the bottle. “Yeah, it has. I missed this. Missed you.”

He grinned, though it was softer than his usual showmanship, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “You’ve done good, you know. I can tell.”

She laughed lightly, leaning back on her hands. “Still figuring it out. You know me—one chaotic day at a time, which these days seems more often than not.”

Tallen smirks in curiosity, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Earlier today, you saw the people I was with, well..."

They passed the bottle back and forth, the hum of the distant crowd fading into the background as they talked. This wasn’t the idle chatter from before—it was real, honest catching up, the kind of conversation only old friends could have. They laughed about shared memories, exchanged stories of where they’d been, and filled in the gaps that time and distance had left.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars as Tallen told her a particularly ridiculous story about his recent travels. She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You’re still as full of it as ever,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with fondness.

“And you’re still the queen of stealing the spotlight,” Tallen retorted, taking another swig of rum and shooting her a teasing grin. “But damn, it’s good to see you out here again. Just like old times.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as her gaze drifted to the water.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “It’s good to see you too.”

For a moment, they let the silence settle between them, the kind of peaceful, unspoken understanding that only old friends could share. The gentle lapping of the waves against the ship filled the spaces between their breaths, and for a brief while, the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future didn’t matter.

But, of course, Tallen couldn’t leave it there.

“So,” he began, his tone mischievous as always, “tell me… what happened with that boy? The one you left us for? You know, the one who made you think settling down was a good idea, all doe-eyed and dreamy?

The question hit her like a splash of cold water. Memories rushed back, unbidden, vivid and sharp. That boy. The boy. She could still see his face, hear his laugh, and feel how easy it had been to let her guard down with him. And she remembered just as vividly how that had been her downfall. The trust she’d given so freely, the love she’d thought was unshakable—it had all come apart like a house of cards in a storm.

She didn’t respond right away, instead reaching for the bottle of rum and taking a long swig, letting the burn of the alcohol drown out the ache that wanted to settle in her chest. Only when she’d numbed it enough did she hand the bottle back to Tallen.

“He was a pirate,” she said simply, her voice steady but laced with a bitterness she couldn’t quite hide.

Tallen took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing slightly as he took his own drink. He let the silence hang for a beat before muttering, “Fucking pirates.”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh, her lips quirking upward just slightly. “Yeah. Fucking Pirates.”

The two fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling between them. Tallen didn’t press further—he didn’t need to. They both knew there were some stories better left in the past, especially on a night like this...

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the water as it slipped and swirled around her feet, her toes wiggling absently in the cool waves. A quiet sigh escaped her as her thoughts drifted to a time when seeing her toes had been a rare occurrence—back when she didn’t need feet at all. The memory tugged at her, bittersweet and heavy.

“Do you ever miss… swimming?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as though the question itself might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. But that wasn’t really what she wanted to ask. What she meant to say was, Do you ever miss your tail?

Tallen glanced at her, the unspoken meaning behind her words not lost on him. His fingers idly traced the rim of the bottle, his eyes flickered to the water. He didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, the ever-present charm and humor he wore like armor fell away, revealing something quieter, something raw.

“Of course I do,” he said at last, his voice low but steady. “It’s part of who I am. No matter how much I try to forget it—or hide it. I miss it every damn day.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, though they echoed her own thoughts. She nodded faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as if trying to touch the memories she’d buried beneath the waves.

“Sometimes, I dream about it,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. “The feeling of the current, the water rushing past me. It’s like… I can still feel it, but when I wake up, it’s gone. And I realize it’s been gone for a long time.”

Tallen let out a low sigh, opening another bottle and taking a gulp before setting it down between them.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice heavier now, laced with something darker. “They left us no choice. Staying in the water… staying as we were… it was a death sentence. Out here, at least, we have a chance. Even if it’s not the life we wanted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tightening as memories surged forward—the fear, the endless swimming, the loss of those who couldn’t escape. The oceans, once their sanctuary, had become a hunting ground, a place where survival meant running and hiding. Becoming human hadn’t been freedom; it had been desperation.

“I hate it sometimes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate that we had to choose this... to give up what we were just to live. I hate that I don’t feel safe, not here, not in the water. Nowhere.”

Tallen’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “We didn’t choose this, Y/N. I know it's not the life we knew, but it’s a life we can make ours. Even if we have to fight for it every step of the way.”

Y/N took another long drink from the bottle, letting the burn of the rum cut through the ache in her chest. She handed it back to him with a faint, tired smile. “It’s not fair,”

“No, it’s not,” Tallen agreed quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness he rarely let show. “But we’re still here. They didn’t get us. And as long as we’re still breathing, there’s a chance. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day… one day, we’ll stop running.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her toes wiggling again as if testing the water beneath them. She wanted to believe him, to believe there was a day when the fear would fade and they could slip back into the waves without a second thought.

The two bottles of rum were emptied far too quickly, its warmth fading as the night deepened. The distant hum of the restaurant voices grew softer, replaced by the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship. The world seemed quieter, heavier, as though the night itself was reluctant to let them go.

Y/N let her feet dip deeper into the water, as if the sea itself could somehow anchor her to this moment, to Tallen, to the sense of familiarity and belonging she always felt in his presence. But reality was already creeping back in, tugging at the edges of her mind.

Tallen stretched his legs, giving the empty bottle a casual toss to the side of the dock, his usual bravado masking the heaviness in the air. “

Guess that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed the same reluctance she felt.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze fixed on the water below. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the inevitability of parting ways again. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Neither of them could. “Out of rum, out of time,”

They sat there for a moment longer, both pretending they didn’t know what was coming next. But the truth was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t just a goodbye���it was a question they’d both have to carry if fate allowed them another meeting: Are they still alive?

Tallen finally stood, brushing his hands on his pants before offering one to Y/N to help her up.

“Guess we should leave it here,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “For now.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She met his gaze, her own eyes shining with unspoken words.

“For now,” she echoed softly, her lips quirking into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, his tone firm, almost commanding. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”

Y/N chuckled weakly, patting his chest as she pulled back. “You know me. Trouble follows, I just try to be faster.”

Tallen smirked, but it faded quickly. He hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the docks, his footsteps heavy as he began to walk away. Y/N stayed behind, watching his silhouette disappear into the shadows of the fish-ship.

She took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill her lungs, then exhaled slowly. The weight of the question lingered in her chest as she turned back toward the Going Merry. She didn’t know when—or if—she’d see him again. But for now, she had to keep moving. Because life didn’t allow for anything else.

Sirens, as creatures of the sea, naturally possess a higher tolerance for alcohol compared to humans. Their bodies, adapted to handle the intoxicating effects of fermented underwater plants and other potent marine brews, metabolize alcohol far more efficiently. That said, even a Siren wasn’t immune to the occasional tipsy stumble after two entire bottles of rum.

Y/N didn’t realize how tipsy she actually was until she began her walk back to the Going Merry, her steps wobbling as if the ground beneath her were swaying like the ocean waves. Each step was a battle to steady herself, but instead of frustration, she giggled to herself and began humming a tune, one she hadn’t even realized she’d made up on the spot.

By some miracle (or sheer luck), she managed to make it to the Going Merry without falling into the water.

“Absolutely magnifico!” she declared with a dramatic flourish as she boarded the ship.

With a triumphant grin, Y/N made her way inside, her mind now fixated on finding something sweet to snack on. Her thoughts were a delightful jumble of candy, cookies, and maybe even fruit if it was sugary enough. But before she could raid the pantry, she collided headlong into Nami, who looked positively furious.

“Woah! You okay, pumpkin?” Y/N slurred, placing a hand on Nami’s arm with a warm, lopsided smile.

Nami shoved her hand off, glaring at her with a sharpness that sobered Y/N just slightly. “Where the hell were you, Y/N?”

Blinking in surprise, Y/N tilted her head, her hazy mind trying to process the sudden shift in tone. “I… uh… wait, what happened?”

Nami’s glare intensified, her voice rising with frustration. “What happened is that Zoro is a massive idiot and is going to get himself killed!”

Before Y/N could fully process what Nami had just said, the navigator spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she headed to her room.

Y/N stood there, swaying slightly as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“What…?” she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with confusion as she rubbed her temple. “What did I miss now?”

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, her footsteps lighter than usual thanks to her still tipsy state. The room was quieter than expected, and as her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene: a not-so-smiley Luffy—weird— Usopp, drunk yet clearly worried. And then there was the star of the night—Zoro—calmly cleaning his swords at the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

As she walked in, all eyes turned to her. Well, almost all eyes. Luffy and Usopp looked at her directly, but Zoro merely spared her a quick glance before returning to polishing one of his blades.

“Y/N—” Luffy began, his voice unusually low, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“What’s this I heard about you getting yourself killed, hotshot?” she asked, her tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity as she made her way to the pantry, her mission for something sweet still very much a priority.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, save for the faint sound of Zoro’s whetstone sliding against his sword. And then, as if it were nothing more than casual conversation, Zoro answered, his tone calm and steady: “I challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel to the death. I’ll defeat him and become the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Y/N froze mid-reach, her hand hovering over a jar of honey. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard. That name—Dracule Mihawk—was familiar. Too familiar. The kind of name you didn’t just forget. Wasn’t he…? No, it couldn’t be. She must’ve heard wrong. Surely, she must have.

So, she laughed. A loud, disbelieving tipsy laugh, grinning as though he’d just told her the best joke of the year.

“Oh, that’s funny,” she said, straightening up and giving Zoro a bemused grin. “For a second there, I thought you said Dracule Mihawk. You know, the Mihawk, Warlord of the Sea."

Zoro didn’t even flinch. He continued cleaning his sword, his face completely devoid of humor as he replied, “Yeah, that one.”

Y/N continued to chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled the jar of honey from the pantry. “No, it’s not,”

“It is,” Usopp mumbled, his words slurred with worry.

Y/N stopped mid-motion, the jar of honey held loosely in her hands. She blinked, her tipsy mind still not fully processing the weight of the situation. Turning to Zoro, she found him looking at her, his expression unreadable, saying nothing. That, more than anything, made her stomach tighten.

With a sharp exhale, she marched to the table and all but slapped the jar of honey down, the sound sharp enough to make Usopp flinch. In that single second, the remnants of her drunken haze evaporated. Sobriety hit her like a wave, and her playful grin was gone.

She stared at Zoro with a hard, unyielding glare, the kind that could cut through stone.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, her voice carrying the kind of edge that dared him to confirm her hopes. When he didn’t respond, her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, Zoro.”

Luffy, of all people, chimed in, his tone oddly serious—too serious for someone who is usually a ray of walking sunshine.

Y/N blinked, looking between Luffy and Zoro, trying to wrap her head around what was being said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she started, raising a hand as if trying to stop the flood of insanity pouring into the room. “You’re telling me you actually challenged Dracule Mihawk? As in the Warlord of the Sea? The guy who could probably split this fucking sodding ship in half just for fun?”

Zoro glanced up at her briefly, his gaze calm but resolute.

“It’s what I have to do,” he said simply, his tone devoid of fear or hesitation. “If I want to be the greatest swordsman in the world, I have to beat him. That’s the only way.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence, her lips parted as she tried to find the words. Her anger faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper—concern, frustration, maybe even fear.

“Zoro, you can’t just—” she started, but her voice faltered. She straightened up, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back. Her gaze flicked to Luffy and Usopp, searching for some semblance of support. Luffy, however, remained silent, his eyes distant, while Usopp looked sick.

Finally, Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Unbelievable. You’re all just going to let him go through with this? No one’s going to stop him?”

“Can’t stop him,” Luffy said simply, his tone carrying a note of quiet acceptance. “This is his dream.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at Zoro again, disbelief and frustration radiating off her in waves. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. As someone who had always fought tooth and nail for survival, it was utterly maddening to see someone willingly dive headfirst into danger like this.

“Zoro, please,” she said, her tone softer now, though the tension in her voice was clear. “Think about it for a second. I know you want this—I know how much it means to you—but this is insane. You’re already an amazing swordsman—”

“But not the best,” Zoro interrupted, his voice calm but resolute. His focus on his blade never wavered as he continued polishing it. “Not yet. Not until I defeat Mihawk.”

Y/N blinked, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She shook her head in disbelief, her voice rising slightly as she took a step closer. “Are you seriously so willing to throw your life away over a title? Is that all this is to you? Just a damn title?”

Zoro finally looked up, his gaze meeting hers with unyielding determination. “It’s not just a title. It’s everything I’ve trained for. Everything I’ve worked for. If I don’t take this chance, then what’s the point?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She searched his expression for any hint of hesitation, of doubt, but found none. He wasn’t going to change his mind. She knew that, even before she asked.

“You’re... not changing your mind, are you?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost defeated.

“You already know the answer to that,” Zoro replied simply.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold and clipped, her tone like a sharp edge. "Go get yourself fucked up."

Zoro didn’t flinch, his focus already back on his blade. “Noted,”

Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she grabbed the jar of honey. She cast one last glare at the back of Zoro’s head, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room without another word.

The jar of honey felt heavier in her hand than it should have, and as she made her way back to her corner of the ship, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Unbelievable. Reckless, stubborn fool...”

But no matter how angry she was, a part of her couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at the edges of her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. And that made this all the more infuriating.

Hours passed, the tension on the Going Merry as thick as the salty sea air around it. Y/N had spent most of that time pacing, her nerves fraying with every passing minute. And now, much to her growing nervousness—and, if she were honest with herself, outright unhappiness—she found herself walking alongside Zoro to the docks of the Baratie with Luffy and Usopp, Nami was nowhere to be found and Y/N had no mind for that the moment.

The swordsman, as usual, was calm and steady, his expression unreadable, as if he were merely heading to run a simple errand rather than walking straight into a duel with one of the most dangerous men alive. Y/N, on the other hand, was barely keeping it together. Despite her earlier words, despite knowing Zoro’s mind was set, she couldn’t help herself.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone tinged with desperation, as she hurried to match his stride. “This doesn’t have to be today, you know. You could wait. Train more. Build yourself up first. Mihawk’s not going anywhere—he’ll still be terrifying tomorrow, or next week, or next year!”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said simply, his tone steady and resolute.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible! You know that, right? Utterly impossible. It’s like you’ve got a death wish baked into that stubborn head of yours.”

He didn’t respond, his focus already ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of one of his swords. His silence only fueled her exasperation.

“Zoro, listen,” she pressed, her voice softer now as she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “You have nothing to prove. Not to me, not to the crew, not to anyone. You’re already one of the best I’ve ever seen—no one would blame you for waiting until the odds were... I don’t know, less suicidal?”

Zoro looked down at her, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze. But it wasn’t doubt or hesitation—it was determination, pure and unwavering.

“I didn’t come this far to stop now,” he said firmly. “If I can’t face him, then I don’t deserve to be the best.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth opening to argue, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say to that? What could she say to someone who was so determined to chase their dream, even if it killed them?

Y/N rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as they reached the docks. The sight of the Baratie's empty deck and the looming presence of the infamous Dracule Mihawk in the distance made her stomach twist. She didn’t say anything else as they walked, but the tension in her chest only grew heavier with every step.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. Y/N blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting to the warlord as he kept his piercing eyes locked on the boy. She followed Mihawk's line of sight, landing on Luffy, who—of course—was smiling. Smiling? Y/N thought in disbelief. She could never understand him. If a Warlord of the Sea so much as glanced in her direction, she’d have been halfway across the ocean by now.

“I’m surprised the Marines would require my services for such a small package,” Mihawk continued, his tone tinged with a subtle mockery that sent chills down Y/N’s spine. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes lingering on the Straw Hat. “Though I do like your hat…”

“Enough,” Zoro cut him off, his voice steady as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the warlord with unwavering resolve. “Let’s begin.”

Y/N gulped, her stomach twisting into knots as she watched Mihawk calmly remove the cross-shaped pendant from around his neck. For a moment, she was confused—was this some kind of pre-duel ritual?—but her confusion turned to disbelief when the man revealed the pendant to be a hidden blade. A tiny hidden blade.

Mihawk pulled the long part free, revealing a small knife, barely larger than a dagger. Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped. What the hell was that? She wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What is that? I’m here for a sword fight,” Zoro deadpanned, his tone flat but edged with disbelief as he took in the Warlord’s weapon.

Mihawk didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of amusement in his golden eyes.

“I don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon,” he replied almost mockingly, holding the tiny blade with an air of casual confidence.

Zoro, however, remained unshaken. He pulled out his two swords, their blades gleaming in the sunlight as he took a defensive stance. His voice was steady, firm, and filled with resolve. “I’m no rabbit.”

Mihawk pointed his small blade at Zoro, the move almost lazy in its precision. “That remains to be seen,” he said smoothly.

The tension between them hung thick in the air, a moment so charged that Y/N felt like she could hardly breathe. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, predator and challenger, locked in an unspoken battle of wills before a single strike had even been made.

And then, Zoro moved.

With a burst of speed, he ran straight toward the Warlord, his swords raised and his expression fierce with determination. The fight had begun.

The fight was a blur for Y/N, but one thing was painfully clear—Mihawk had the upper hand from the very start. Every move Zoro made was effortlessly countered, every strike easily dodged or deflected as though the Warlord was swatting away a pesky fly.

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shriek when Mihawk drove the small dagger into Zoro’s chest. Her fingers dug into Luffy’s arm as she squeezed tightly, her own breath catching at the sheer ruthlessness of the moment. When Mihawk finally unsheathed his massive blade, Yoru, Y/N grimaced, her stomach twisting with dread.

And then, as Zoro’s swords crumbled under the sheer power of Mihawk’s strike, Y/N couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in shock as Zoro, instead of backing down, willingly let himself be slashed across the chest, standing tall even in defeat. The scene left her frozen, torn between awe at his resolve and fear for his life.

"Zoro!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw with emotion as the green-haired swordsman collapsed to the ground.

Without a second thought, Y/N bolted toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. She dropped to her knees beside Zoro, her hands hovering over him, unsure of where to even start.

There it was—a massive, long, bloodied slash stretching across his chest, from one shoulder to the opposite side. The sight of it made her stomach drop. Her breath hitched as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Oh, shit… Zoro," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.

Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk called out, his voice laced with a faint trace of curiosity. His sharp gaze settled on the boy, as if measuring him. "What’s your goal?"

"I’m going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his eyes unwavering.

"King of the Pirates, hmm?" Mihawk repeated, a flicker of intrigue crossing his otherwise stoic expression. "That’s a far more perilous path than even defeating me."

Luffy didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to glare at the Warlord, his resolve shining through. "I don’t care," he said firmly. "It’s what I’m going to do."

Mihawk regarded him in silence for a moment, as though he were assessing something beyond words. Then, with a faint hum of approval, he nodded slightly.

"Maybe you will at that," he said, his tone carrying an unusual note of respect, "This world could use a few more wild cards."

Mihawk turned his piercing gaze away from Luffy, letting it fall to the green-haired swordsman lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. “Roronoa Zoro,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s too soon for you to die. Grow strong and come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, and much to Y/N’s immense relief, Dracule Mihawk turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance.

Usopp hurried to kneel next to Y/N and Luffy, his face pale as he took in the sheer amount of blood pouring from Zoro’s chest.

“He’s losing so much blood,” Usopp said, his voice shaking with panic.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Luffy said firmly, though the determination in his voice couldn’t quite mask the crack of worry underneath.

“Hey, Zoro,” Y/N leaned closer, her voice trembling but insistent as she gently touched his cheek. “Can you hear me? Come on, hotshot, don’t do this.”

Luffy’s voice was softer now, he was smiling but his voice was filled with quiet resolve. “He said it’s too soon for you to die."

Zoro, lying in a pool of his own blood, let out a groan, his voice strained and heavy with pain. Every word sounded like it hurt to speak, but still, he forced them out. "Luffy... if I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman… you’ll be disappointed. Right?"

Luffy immediately shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. "You could never fail me,"

"Never… again. From now… until I beat him…" Summoning his last reserves of energy, Zoro gritted his teeth and unsheathed Wado Ichimonji, the sword trembling in his bloodied hand. He raised it weakly, his arm barely steady. "To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!"

Y/N pursed her lips, worry etched into every line of her face as she watched Zoro’s arm falter. The sword slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground as his body went limp. He was out.

"Zoro?" Luffy’s voice broke slightly as he leaned closer, shaking the unconscious swordsman. "Zoro?! Zoro!"

"Luffy, stop!" Y/N grabbed Luffy’s arm, her voice sharp but tinged with worry. Her grip was firm, her eyes locking onto his with a quiet urgency. "Shaking him won’t help."

Luffy froze, his hands trembling as he pulled back slightly. Y/N turned to Nami, who was hovering just behind them, her face pale with concern and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"We need to get him inside," Y/N said, her tone steady but urgent as she glanced between Nami, Usopp and Luffy. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. "Now!"

They all nodded quickly, their hands moving instinctively to help as they began the careful process of lifting Zoro, doing everything they could to keep him stable. The tension in the air was palpable, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand, suppressing the storm of worry swirling in her chest.

They couldn’t lose him. Not here. Not like this.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Tags: @weirdowithaphone

[darthfrodophantom]

Death Is My Gift

Summary: When Danny becomes the personification of Death, his new powers are the least of his problems. Summoned as the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, Danny tries to sabotage it from the inside while also contending with the other three horsemen, the one who summoned him, and the knowledge that if he fails, he may have to help bring about the end of the world.

AO3: Link

Chapter 1: Still Dead - Thanks for Checking

“What the hell is that on your phone?” Sam asked, her tone dripping with derision. 

Danny looked up from his screen and cocked his eyebrow. “What?” How could she see what was on his screen when she was on the other side of the table? Not that he had anything embarrassing on there, but look it wasn’t his fault that he messed up his Insta algorithm because he watched one video about large superheated copper balls melting through a telescope lens and now he couldn’t stop watching more of them. But still, how could she see it?

She gestured toward the back of his phone. “That sticker - what the hell is it?”

Understanding dawned on the usually clueless boy and his face brightened. “Oh, it’s my new sticker! Isn’t it great?” he preened as he moved his hand to the side so they could see the sticker in its full glory. He had been waiting for them to notice it, and somehow it took all the way until lunch for them to comment on it. 

Tucker craned his neck around to see the purple coffin-shaped sticker plastered onto the back of Danny’s phone case. In white letters it read: “Still Dead. Thanks for checking.” Tucker snorted before he devolved into cackles. “Dude, that’s great!”

Danny grinned even wider. “Right? I thought it was too funny.”

“No, it’s stupid,” Sam argued, and her harsh attitude completely ruined the mood. “Danny, the less people associate you with death, the better.”

“Oh come on Sam, if they haven’t figured out that Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton are the same person by now when they have the exact same hairstyle, then a sticker is not going to phase anyone,” Tucker argued, ever in defense of his friend.

“Exactly!” Danny seconded.

“Or it’s exactly the last piece that helps people make that connection because there’s already so little separating you!” Sam exclaimed, though she did try to keep her voice down so no one else would overhear.

“Or maybe they’ll just think I’m a moody Gen Z kid that says this kind of dramatic stuff all the time. Which is why you should have let me keep that shirt.” He still thought that “Dead Inside” shirt was ironic and iconic, but Sam conveniently spilled black ink from her fancy new quill set  on it and refused to give it back for this very same reason.

“Yeah, he could just make it his brand,” Tucker agreed. The two of them always seemed to be on the same page.

Sam reached out like she was about to rip the sticker off his phone, but decided against it and shook her head. “Fine. You want to keep the sticker on your phone? Fine, but don’t cry to me when people start putting the pieces together,” she huffed.

“Well since that’s not gonna happen, you’re gonna be waiting a long time,” Danny grinned. He struck an overly exaggerated victory pose with his neck cocked slightly to the side while he tilted his chin up to the sky. 

Sam jerked back as the color drained from her face. “Danny what the—“ she cried out, so loudly and so suddenly that it caught the attention of other people in the lunchroom. 

Danny immediately looked behind him, assuming that whatever caused Sam’s sudden reaction had to be behind him. His need to protect his friends from whatever threat caused such a startled response rose up and hammered in his throat as his mind spun with the possible horrors he would see behind him. 

But he saw…nothing. Well, not nothing. He saw other students eating their lunches at other tables throughout the room. Students drifted in and out of the cafeteria as they finished their lunches. No ghost. No threat. Nothing that should cause Sam to turn as white as she did.

He turned back to face Sam, concern etched deep into his brow as he studied her face. “Sam? What’s wrong?” he asked in quiet urgency. If she truly saw some danger that he couldn’t, then he needed to know.

Sam studied Danny for a long moment, far too long for Danny’s liking. She wasn’t looking past him, she was looking at…him. “...Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing. I think I’m just seeing things. I thought I saw…nevermind. It’s nothing,” she assured them. 

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because something freaked you out.”

She shook her head and plastered a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m sure. Too little sleep and too much caffeine has just got me jumpy. I’m fine, really. Besides, we need to act like we’re having a normal conversation: too many people are watching.”

“Well yeah, you practically jumped out of your seat,” Danny pointed out. 

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a half smile before she reached across the table and grabbed his abandoned phone. “It did let me get your phone though.”

“Wait hey!” Danny protested as he reached across the table to recover his phone from her clutches, but she deftly moved around his grasping hands. 

“Now let’s see about that sticker,” she teased. Danny immediately doubled his efforts to retrieve his phone. Not being able to rely on ghost powers made it a little more difficult than it should have been to win it back (was he maybe relying on those too much? That felt like too much of a Jazz question for him to think about it too long), but he did save the phone and his ironic sticker. He was so preoccupied saving his sticker that he didn’t notice that Tucker had gone quiet and regarded Sam with a very significant and curious stare.

Lunch wrapped up shortly after the scuffle over the phone, and the three of them rushed off to their lockers and then off to class. Just outside the door to the classroom, Tucker held a hand out to stop Sam and waited for Danny to get a few feet inside before he spoke up in a whisper.

“Did you see the skull?”

Sam blinked and her face grew pale again, just like it had in the lunchroom. “The what?” she asked with a slightly shaky voice.

“The skull? Over Danny’s face?”

“What? Yes! Yes I thought I was going insane!” she exclaimed, though still in a whisper to not catch any more attention. The briefest moment of relief washed over her, but it immediately washed away into even more worry.

“No, I saw it this morning,” Tucker admitted. “Thought it was just some trick of the light or something. It was there one moment and then–”

“--Gone the next,” Sam finished. “And when I saw it I just felt…off. Like this moment of dread. Like I was–”

“--Looking at something I shouldn’t have seen,” Tucker validated as he nodded his head. “Yeah, same here. It was a weird feeling to have looking at my best friend.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” Tucker sighed as he looked towards Danny pouring over his textbook in the hope that he’d be able to at least pretend that he did the reading before class. “But knowing Danny, it’s probably nothing good.”

Danny noticed odd glances from his friends a few more times that day. He worried maybe he had something on his face, but then again Sam would have said something. Tucker would have stayed quiet to have a good laugh about it later, but he’d have clued him into the joke by now. Maybe he was doing something ghostly without knowing it? But if that was the case they would have definitely let him know. In the end, he chalked it up to his friends being weird and went about his strangely quiet day.

There weren’t any ghost attacks. He couldn’t remember the last time he went through a school day without being interrupted by ghosts. It felt…nice, but unnerving at the same time, like he missed something. Like he was supposed to clue into something happening in the Ghost Zone. But in the end he decided not to worry about that either, especially once school ended and he could just hang out with his best friends ghost free.

By the time they hit up the game store (Tucker was still trying to get them into tabletop games) and the record store (Sam wanted to browse the LPs), Danny had forgotten all about his previous warnings…until he hit the Boba shop. Second up to bat, he placed his order with the barista, a smiling young woman who wore fun earrings that looked like watermelon slices. He paid for his drink and left a decent tip, but when he looked back up from the pin pad, her haunted expression caught him by surprise.

No longer kind and smiling, her unfocused gaze stared beyond him with eyes opened so wide her eyelids disappeared. Her pale, gaunt face looked hollow and lifeless. Her mouth fell open unnaturally.

“Fifty-seven years, one hundred and thirteen days, seven hours.”

Her flat, emotionless voice echoed within the sudden silence of the rest of the room. Chills shot along his body as the hair on his arms stood on end. His gut twisted uncomfortably as the presence of something…wrong and haunting fell over him. The silence of the world pressed in around him and left him only with that eerie voice thrumming though the void.

“What?” he finally stammered out.

“Do you want a receipt?” she repeated in her normal voice. Suddenly the whole world came back around him. The noise and the commotion of the busy Boba shop almost felt overwhelming after the sheer absolute silence.

“Oh uh…no,” he answered lamely.

“He’s good,” Sam spoke up quickly from behind. She pushed him to the side and took over the situation, but concern etched deep lines into her forehead. “But I’ll have a…”

What Sam ordered was lost on him as Tucker pulled him over to the drink pick-up counter. “Dude, what happened?” he asked in an urgent whisper. “You just froze.”

“I don’t…I don’t know. I heard something totally different…” The eerie tone of her voice, the chill that shot like livewire up his spine (like the accident, but he really didn’t want to think about that), it all stuck with him and wouldn’t leave him. His memory was absolute trash at the best of times, but he could still remember every number she quoted to him like it had been etched into his very core.

“What did you hear?” Tucker asked as Sam joined them. Those concerned lines across her brow still made him feel like something more was going on here, because Sam usually only worried when there was actually something to worry about.

“Just…some numbers, like years and months,” he shrugged, trying to pass it off as normal, even if it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Like a countdown?” Sam pressed.

Danny’s eyes grew wide. Exactly like a countdown. Down to the hour.

He didn’t need to say anything for Sam to know she was on to something. “So what was she counting down to?”

“You think I know?” Danny rebuffed as he pointed at himself. “But you guys heard it right? How…creepy she sounded? How hollow?”

“No, we didn’t man,” Tucker responded, strangely serious. “We heard her ask if you wanted a receipt and then you just froze.”

He looked between both of his friends, hoping for some kind of alternate answer or for someone to say they were pulling his leg, but they weren’t. “So you…you didn’t hear it?” he implored, desperate for someone to agree with him.

“No Danny, we didn’t,” Sam confirmed. “But Danny, we need to–”

“Pomegranate boba,” another barista announced. Danny automatically turned towards her, only to see the same lifeless stare directed his way.

“Twenty years, two hundred and twelve days, two hours.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as the pressure of the void threatened to swallow him again, but then like before, everything opened up and the noise of the world rushed back to him.

“Danny?” Sam fretted as she stepped closer to him. 

He opened his eyes and looked out on the brightly lit boba shop. “Sorry I…it happened again,” he admitted.

Tucker and Sam exchanged significant glances behind Danny’s back before making an executive decision. Tucker grabbed their drink orders while Sam gently placed a hand on Danny’s back. “I think we should get out of here,” Sam suggested.

Danny could see the sense in that. The last thing they needed was to make a scene, and he could feel the eyes of both the people behind the counter and the ones standing in line. Best to beat a hasty retreat and figure this out somewhere a little quieter.

He scooted around the line of customers, hoping he could make a quiet exit. He caught the gaze of a young boy in line, but he only saw the vacant stare on his young face.

“Eighty three years, three hundred and two days, eleven hours.”

Danny spun quickly away from the boy and placed his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help as he locked eyes with a college student at a table who happened to look up from her laptop.

“Three years, thirty days, seven hours.”

And then the gaze of a well-dressed woman striding through the door.

“Forty years, eighty-eight days, nineteen hours.”

And the older man sitting with his grandchildren at a table.

“Ten years, one hundred and fifty days, three hours.”

Macabre countdowns from various shop patrons echoed around him. Anyone who met his gaze morphed their faces into the gaunt masks and intoned their countdown in that same hollow voice.

“Stop! Stop!” Danny cried as he curled in on himself. Tucker and Sam immediately pushed him through the doors and outside of the shop full of curious onlookers, but if they thought ushering him outside of the shop would be better, they were terribly wrong as Danny confronted more people on the street. The constant chorus of lifeless laments descended upon him in a deafening whirlwind.

“Ninety-eight days, twenty hours.”

“Sixty-eight years, two days, one hour.”

“Seventeen years, two hundred and ninety days, eight hours.”

Until they finally culminated in a chilling “Thirteen seconds.”

A morbid curiosity came over him as his gaze lingered on the older man who intoned the foreboding knell, just before the man clutched at his chest and dropped to the ground. Everyone around him rushed to his side and barked out orders to call an ambulance, but Danny knew deep, deep down in his core that it wouldn’t do any good. 

The man was dead. 

Dead, exactly thirteen seconds later.

Realizing this area was about to get a lot more attention, Tucker and Sam pushed Danny into a nearby alley and shrouded him from view. “Danny what the hell is happening?” Sam practically yelled.

Danny dropped to the ground as he clutched at his core that ached with the pain of what he just witnessed, and the horror of what he’d come to realize. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or to the world as a whole, but he had a horrifying feeling he knew what the times meant.

They were a countdown to death.

“I don’t…I don’t know why, but people keep telling me how long…how long they have…left,” Danny squeaked out between shallow breaths. The world swam around him and he clenched his jaw to try not to be sick.

“Left to what?” Tucker asked.

“To live you idiot!” Sam chastised. “Danny, are you sure?”

“What else could it be?” he exclaimed as he gripped at the hair on the sides of his head. “Someone said thirteen seconds, and then thirteen seconds later he…he…” His breath quickened in his chest. His heart thrummed too fast against his ribs. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shivered. This…this was a panic attack. Oh god, he was having a panic attack. But could anyone really blame him? He heard a man was going to die and just…just…watched it happen and couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything!

“Danny…Danny just look at me,” Sam pressed delicately as she knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

His eyes reached her chin before he remembered - as soon as he met someone’s gaze, even from afar, they told him how long they had. He couldn’t know that about his best friend. He couldn’t. What if it was a small number? What would he even consider to be a small number? Would any number ever be large enough?

He slapped her away in a panic and retreated into himself as he buried his head into his arms. “No!” he screamed. “No, any time I look at someone they tell me how much time they have left and I can’t…I don’t want to know that. I can’t know that!” he practically screeched.

Sam and Tucker exchanged worried but uncertain looks. They’d dealt with a lot since the accident, but this was certainly a new complication where their very presence seemed to add more stress. 

“Okay Danny, okay. We don’t know if that’s what’s happening.” She paused as she felt him tense beside her. “But if you think that’s what’s happening, then we won’t look at you.”

Danny grabbed his hair tight in his hands as he shook in a huddle on the floor. How was he going to do this? Never look at anyone he ever cared about again? Make sure they never looked at him? What kind of life would that be? He couldn’t live like that, with that paranoia that some day one of them would mess up and they’d meet his gaze and then he would know how much longer he had left to spend with them. His breathing quickened again as he found himself spiraling further down into his panic, down into a depth of foreboding terror that he didn’t know if he could climb out of again.

“Okay but Danny, even if you aren’t looking at anyone, I need you to breathe okay?” Sam pleaded. “Just breathe with me. In and out slowly. In and out.”

He did as he was told because he didn’t really have it in him to argue. In and out, in and out. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth like Jazz taught him. It probably didn’t help that he was still curled up in a ball and didn’t have great air circulation, but he didn’t dare uncurl.

“Okay, good,” Sam praised as she finished sending an urgent text. “Now let’s figure out what’s going on, because we will figure it out.”

“You mean figure out why I can tell when people are going to die?” Danny snapped.

“Yes,” Sam replied, voice calm despite Danny’s barbed tone. 

“...I don’t know if this is the right time, but there probably isn’t a right time so I’m just gonna say it,” Tucker sighed. “Danny, we noticed something weird earlier. It would only happen for a second, but it was like your face was covered by…like a translucent skull.”

Danny looked up but immediately thought better of it and ducked his head back down again. “A what?!”

“A skull. We didn’t know what it meant at the time–”

“We still don’t know what it means,” Sam added.

“--but it has to be related,” Tucker finished.

“This has to be more than a new ghost power,” Sam brainstormed. “This feels like something more significant.”

“More significant? What the hell does that mean?” Danny rebuked. He knew they were just trying to help, but honestly without an answer it was just making him feel more anxious and overwhelmed. He didn’t know if he could handle something more significant than being a half-dead, ghost-fighting freak.

“We don’t know,” Sam said, controlled and patient. “But we’ll figure this out Danny, we promise, just like we’ve figured out everything else.”

Everything else. Because there was always something. There was always some other side effect of the accident that all of them had to keep dealing with. Ghost powers, ghost fighting, his parents, new powers, a secret identity, ice powers, and now this. When was he done? When would he finally stop having more and more piled on top of his already overflowing mind? How much was a teenager expected to shoulder before he finally just buckled under the crushing weight of it all?

Apparently it would be one more thing.

He gasped as the cold breath escaped from his throat. He deflated a bit into his self hug. He knew the quiet afternoon was too good to be true. He knew it.

“Danny, you don’t have to go,” Sam mentioned, almost pleading.

“You know I have to,” he sighed with hollow defeat.

“No, you don’t. Let your parents get it, or Valerie. It doesn’t have to be you right now,” she begged.

“They never handle it well,” Danny argued as he stood but kept his gaze on the floor.

Sam shook her head, prepared to put her foot down. “But Danny, you literally just stopped having a panic attack, do you think now is the right time to do this? Maybe you just need to think about yourself for a bit!”

“When do I ever get to think about myself?” he barbed as he transformed. “Besides, a ghost can’t tell me how long they have to live, right? Sounds like I’m safer with one of them.”

Before they could argue with him he shot off into the sky, leaving a cloud of dread behind him. Tucker and Sam exchanged meaningful glances. 

“Follow him?” Tucker checked.

“Absolutely follow him.”

~*~

As yet another ectoblast grazed Danny’s side, he realized Tucker and Sam had maybe been right about letting someone else handle this. His head was not in the game. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that swirled around him and it made the fight against the ghostly crow that much harder to focus on. His newfound popularity also proved to be a complication as it led to more onlookers watching the fight. He couldn’t help but meet the eyes of people in the crowd, and every time he listened to their own voices toll their own death knell, he found himself wide open to a hit from the annoying ghost that honestly wouldn’t have been that much of a challenge otherwise. 

"Three hundred and twenty-one days, thirteen hours.”

He squeezed his eyes tight as he tried not to internalize how little time the concerned woman who looked his way had left, but closing his eyes during a fight was never a good idea.

“Danny!” he heard Sam yell, her voice distant but urgent.

He opened his eyes and saw the crow barreling in to charge with glowing talons ready to claw out his eyes. He immediately acted on instinct and threw out his hands to maybe summon a shield or take the talons to his arms or something.

He felt something cold and heavy fall into his hands, and he swung it without even looking at it too closely. A thin line of green slashed across the ghost and then it vanished. His overzealous slash continued through the brick of a nearby building that weathered and aged as decay seeped out from the fine line in the brick. When the arc of his swing stopped, he finally looked at what he held in his hands.

A scythe. Long and slender, the curved blade made a full crescent as it tapered into a neat, sharp point. The edge of the blade glowed with a faint green light, but it almost hurt to register: like its presence cut through the very existence of what his mind could accept as real. It looked so simple in his arms, and yet it felt dangerous. Deadly.

He stared dumbfounded at the blade in his hands. It felt heavy in his arms, but not because of its actual weight. It actually felt too easy and natural to swing. His fingers gripped around the shaft like he was meant to hold it. It felt so right and natural in his arms, and that scared him even more.

He immediately dropped it, but instead of hearing it clatter to the ground, it vanished into shadows as the absolute black swallowed it.

With panic etched all over his face, he looked desperately towards Sam’s voice, but only after he remembered that he didn’t dare look towards his friends. He dropped his gaze, but they understood his intent and rushed over to him.

“Danny, Danny are you okay?” Sam asked as she grabbed her friend’s arm.

“No…no I don’t think so,” he admitted. As hard as it felt to admit, he wasn’t well. He had no idea what the hell was happening, but he just knew none of this could be good. A sense of dread lingered around him that he couldn’t shake. A whisper of an answer tickled at the edges of his mind, but it was so cloaked in fear and terror that he didn’t dare even acknowledge its presence.

Sam nodded morosely and squeezed his arm. “That’s okay. We’ve got this Danny. C’mon, let’s get to my house. I think I know what’s going on.”

~*~

Danny sat in his favorite chair in the Manson library. Most of the room felt like something out of a middle-aged woman’s Pinterest page: a million shades of beige accented by a few plants or vines. Some books even had their spines facing the wall because their binding was too colorful. Sam managed to carve out a corner for herself. She separated this corner out with deep red curtains and inside its sanctuary she kept all her books (spines proudly out, thank you very much) on black shelves. Gothic sconces of wrought iron glowed with just enough mood lighting to read by and plush wine red chairs provided the perfect getaway to crawl into with a book. 

One of those chairs sucked him up inside its cushions and he let the weight of the fabric surround him. Sitting here with the dark mood lighting while Sam read aloud some new book or poem always felt like a comfortable space. Maybe Sam hoped the familiarity would bring some comfort to him right now, but even its power couldn’t counteract the horrible twisting in the pit of his stomach.

His friends swore they wouldn’t look at his face and would focus on his chest instead, but he still didn’t feel comfortable looking anywhere but at his wringing hands in his lap, just in case. He’d heard about too much death already today: too many times that seemed far too short for the nice faces that seemed burned into his mind. He had no idea who these people were and probably would never see them again, but he would forever remember their faces and would never be free of the knowledge of their death.

Would it be quick? Slow? Painful? Could he stop it? Could he save them? If he remembered their faces could he hunt them down and try to save them? Maybe not the ones in decades, but the ones who would be dying in the next few months? Could he help them so they didn’t end up like the old man on the street who died before his eyes while he was powerless to stop it?

The thump of a large book on a table shook him out of his thoughts as Sam stood near the small round table. “You’re not gonna like this, but I think I found the answer.”

That certainly caught his attention and he looked towards the book. Whether he’d like the answer or not, he needed to know. The heavy old tome looked like every Victorian book that Sam loved to collect, with a dark binding, embossed edges, and thick block lettering for the title.

The Tome of Record for the Myths and Legends of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

No. 

No, that couldn’t be the right book. That was not the answer.

He shook his head and backed up in his chair as far away from the book as he could physically get. “No. That’s not the right book.”

Sam approached both Danny and the book gently, like any sudden movement would spook him. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I know I’m right about this.”

Tucker leaned in from his chair and his eyes grew wide. “Wait, apocalypse? Sam you’re serious?”

“No, she’s not serious because she’s wrong!” Danny insisted.

Sam slowly opened the book and turned to a page marked with a dark black ribbon. “Just look at it Danny. It explains a lot.”

Against his better judgment he peeked at the new chapter: “The Fourth Horseman: Death.” He didn’t let himself read any more, but the haunting image of a black-cloaked figure atop a skeletal horse with a skull for a face and a very familiar looking scythe froze him in his seat.

The death knells. The skull. The scythe. 

No, just because it made sense, that didn’t mean anything. Lots of things in this world made sense without actually being right, and this was just another one of those things. It didn’t mean that he– He couldn’t possibly be–

Tucker trailed a finger along the text of the book as he read, his mouth and eyes falling agape. “Wait Sam are you…are you trying to say that Danny is…Death? Like the Death?”

He felt an irrational anger towards Tucker for putting into physical words what his mind refused to acknowledge. Because it was crazy…right? Some crazy, wacky theory. This couldn’t be reality, it just…it couldn’t be.

Sam nodded solemnly. “I am. I don’t know why, but Danny has somehow become the personification of Death.”

For some reason the finality in Sam’s voice forced him to really hear it. As much as he wanted to deny it, the nagging whisper always there on the periphery of his mind had been trying to tell him the whole time. He knew it from the first countdown, but refused to see it. He knew what the symbolism of the scythe meant, but he refused to connect it. And he knew that all of these pieces only added up to one possible explanation. Just like Sam, he’d already reached the same conclusion, but he just refused to see it. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.

He was Death.

He needed to get away from the book, the picture, the proof. He didn’t want to see it anymore. He fell through the chair, momentarily grateful to have some kind of physical barrier between him and the book, but the piercing, empty eyes of the skull on the page followed him even through the chair. He scrambled back along the floor until he hit the bookcase behind him. 

“No no no I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” he screamed in ever increasing levels of panic. He looked at his shaking hands, almost expecting to see bony hands stretching out instead of his normal skin. He grabbed at his face, his arms, anything to make sure that he hadn’t turned into some skeleton. “I can’t–I don’t want to be Death!”

Sam and Tucker rushed over to his side and pulled his trembling body into a hug. They tried to bestow him with whatever comfort they could, but they knew it wouldn’t be enough. Just like they did when Danny first emerged from the portal, they were at a loss for what they could do and they just tried to be a physical support for him.

Danny grabbed onto his friends desperately as he shook in their arms. He didn’t know how much he needed their reassuring strength and strong hug until he found himself in their arms. Maybe he relied on them too much for emotional stability, but something about their presence served as a grounding force for him and he needed that now more than ever.

“We’ll figure it out Danny,” Sam tried to assure him. “We always do.”

They did always figure it out. The accident, the ghost powers, the ghost fighting, the secret identity, Pariah Dark, Vlad, his horrifying potential future - they’d found a way to make it through everything that his strange life had thrown at him. It stood to reason they could make it through this too, but for some reason this seemed so much more imposing than all those other obstacles.

The personification of death. What did that even mean? Did he have to reap souls? Was he actually the one responsible for killing people? Was he now to blame for everyone’s deaths? Did he have to help people cross over or find peace or meaning in their lives? Could he still live his normal human life? He’d already been neglecting it so much because of ghost fighting, but would this completely eclipse everything else? It felt like such a huge burden to throw onto his already overburdened shoulders, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to keep it all up.

But even more than a burden, being Death pushed him even closer to the dark stench of death that always seemed to swirl around him. He already straddled a very fine line between life and death, and while he didn’t always know where he found himself on either side of it, he cherished the balance. He liked being reminded that he was still alive. He died, and he was a ghost, but he was so much more than that too. His heart beat, he kept growing - he still had a life. He needed those reminders to stay sane. But being Death…it pushed him so much further towards that darker side. It disrupted that balance that he held onto so desperately. Those reminders of life seemed so much further away, like they could be snatched away from him at any moment, and he didn’t want to think where that constant focus on death and loss would take him.

He couldn’t keep dwelling on this. He was a boy of action, and he never did well just thinking through things. Maybe that helped Jazz, but he needed to do something. Figure this out, get rid of it, something. So he pulled away from the hug slightly, enough of a signal for his friends to release the warm group hug. He missed that comfort immediately, but he couldn’t stay huddled up against the bookshelf forever.

“How did this happen?” he croaked. Trying to find a reason meant that he had to accept it as the truth, and that hurt, but he’d already accepted it. Now he just had to get rid of it.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But Danny, we have a much more pressing issue than how.”

“More pressing than this?” Danny questioned, almost hurt that his internal turmoil and need to solve this wasn’t considered a pressing issue.

“Yeah, because it gets worse.”

Panic clenched around his heart again. How could it possibly get worse? This already seemed like a destitute situation with no possible solution on the horizon.

“Worse than Danny having death powers?” Tucker inquired. Well at least Tucker was on the same wavelength.

She nodded morosely. She took a deep breath, but as she slowly breathed out she straightened up, her brow resolute. “The summoning of the fourth horseman…it’s the final sign. The apocalypse is coming, and Danny’s going to be forced to make it happen.”

~*~

I hope you all enjoyed this! It's a little late of a submission for Ectober's Day 17 Gothic Horror prompt, but apparently world-building a multi-chapter longfic took a lot longer than I expected. But I'm excited to share some of my lore behind this ghostly version of the four horsemen over the next two chapters!

[semisolidmind]

Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.

So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.

And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?

And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?

I really love your work

(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)

went on a bit of a tangent :)

reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.

macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.

there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.

macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.

the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.

she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.

reader is dead.

the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.

the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..

...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.

their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.

the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.

the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.

the two leave for a while.

they don't come back for three months.

when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.

———

the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.

the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.

the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.

———

many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.

the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.

both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.

the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.

he wishes he could've met her.

———

when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.

xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...

...who happens to be nicknamed reader.

[kokostarbits]

🌼🔮Stuck with the Soggy Cat🔮🌼

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

Part 5:

⚔️💋The Accident💋⚔️

It started with pancakes.

Or rather... it started with Magolor yelling dramatically declaring, "Today I shall master the sacred art of the flip!" at 8:47 in the morning while floating above a chair in Meta Knight's kitchen.

Meta Knight (who had not finished his first cup of coffee) merely grunted from behind his book.

"You're going to set my stove on fire."

"That was once, and I learned from the experience!"

"You named the fire..."

"His name was Sir Crisp and he had a personality, Meta Knight."

The chair wobbled. The pan sizzled, and somehow by sheer luck (or chaos magic) the pancake flipped high into the air and landed perfectly back in the pan.

Magolor threw both hands up like he'd won an interdimensional championship. "YES!!! I AM THE BREAKFAST KING!"

Meta Knight blinked over the top of his mug.

"...It's crooked."

"Crooked with flair!"

And yet, despite the chaos - the pancakes turned out edible. Good, even. They sat together at the tiny kitchen table, Magolor humming while he loaded his with syrup and Meta Knight pretending not to watch the way his ears wiggled when he chewed.

The day passed like that... quiet, domestic, warm.

Magolor rearranged a shelf for the third time. Meta Knight sharpened a blade he hadn't used in weeks, and sometimes he would even leave his mask off around Magolor. They moved around each other in the shared space like they'd been doing it forever.

However.

It was late afternoon when it happened...

Magolor was trying to float as high as he could to reach the top shelf of the pantry with a frustrated little grunt. Meta Knight came up behind him without thinking.

"Don't strain." he said, reaching easily above Magolor to grab the jar.

"Oh! Thanks—" Magolor turned, still mid-smile.

Their faces bumped.

Lips pressed together... soft, brief, and so quick it might've been nothing if not for the stunning silence that followed.

They both froze.

Meta Knight pulled back like he'd been struck by lightning with his eyes wide.

Magolor blinked.

Then blinked again.

"...Did you-did we just—?"

Meta Knight took a full step back, nearly knocking over a chair. "I didn't mean to- That was- You were too close—!"

"I was trying to get the cinnamon! Not kiss you!" Magolor squeaked, his entire face going pink.

They stared at each other. Both of them red-faced and weirdly breathless.

Then, slowly...so slowly... Magolor started to giggle.

Meta Knight stared in horror. "This is not funny!"

"It's so funny! You look like you just got hit by the warp star!"

"You walked into it—"

"We were in the pantry! What kind of romantic setting is that?! What are the odds?!"

Meta Knight buried his face in his cape.

Magolor laughed harder, nearly doubling over, and when he finally calmed down, his voice was gentler.

"...It wasn't bad..." he said, his ears twitching. "The...um...Kiss. Even if it was kind of a... spice rack surprise."

Meta Knight peeked out from behind his cape, clearly still flustered.

Magolor stepped closer, and Meta Knight's breath caught, but he didn't move away. Instead he softly muttered, "...It wasn't...entirely unwelcome..."

Magolor smiled.

"Let's go..." he whispered, brushing his fingers lightly against Meta Knight's glove. "We've still got more pancakes to finish!"

Later that night...

In Meta Knight's (always neat and clean) bedroom.

Meta Knight was in bed staring at the ceiling... With one gloved hand absentmindedly resting against his mouth.

Right there. That’s where Magolor had kissed him.

Accidentally, of course. Totally unintentional. A pantry mishap. A spice rack surprise. Nothing more.

And yet.

He could still feel it. The phantom sensation of how warm and soft and real it had been. His cape was bunched under his chin like a security blanket, and the moonlight through the window complimented his silver armor.

The door creaked.

Meta Knight quickly dropped his hand and sat up a little straighter, as if he'd been doing something deeply suspicious (like thinking about his feelings).

Magolor peeked inside. He wasn’t glowing as much as usual. His ears were a little droopy. He fiddled with the edge of his belt.

"...Hey. You awake?"

"...Yes." Meta Knight said, perhaps a little too fast.

Magolor stepped in, hovering awkwardly by the edge of the bed. “I’ve been thinking...um...about earlier.”

Meta Knight’s brain attempted to launch itself out the nearest window. “Oh.”

“Yeah, and I just... I feel bad.” Magolor’s eyes darted everywhere except at Meta Knight. “You’ve been nothing but kind since I got here. Let me stay, helped me with stuff, didn’t yell when I reorganized your bookshelf in alphabetical AND magical affinity order—”

“It’s easier to find things now.” Meta Knight mumbled.

“Still! You've been great, and I went and— I don’t know, invaded your personal space... That kiss thing was inappropriate, and I shouldn't have laughed at you..."

Meta Knight’s heart tripped over itself.

He sat there in stunned silence for a second too long. Then, very shyly, his voice quiet:

“It’s okay. It wasn’t... inappropriate. It was just an accident.”

Magolor looked up, surprised. “You sure?”

Meta Knight nodded. “It surprised me, but it wasn’t... bad.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

They both just... sat there. On the bed. Flushed. Not talking. Absolutely thinking too hard. Magolor’s ear flicked. Meta Knight’s fingers twitched. At one point, their hands brushed, and both of them flinched like someone had set off a proximity mine.

Eventually, Magolor broke the silence with a breathy little laugh.

“I should go to bed.”

Meta Knight nodded, not trusting himself to say anything that wouldn’t come out sounding like a dying toaster.

“Night!” Magolor murmured as he floated back toward the door, ears still pink.

“Goodnight...” Meta Knight said softly.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Meta Knight stared at the ceiling for a full thirty seconds.

Thinking.

And thinking some more...

Until he was totally normal and-

He sat bolt upright, and slapped both cheeks with his hands.

“OH. MY. NOVA—”

He froze.

“I think I'm in love with Magolor...!?!?”

He laid back down before very slowly, very dramatically, pulling his pillow over his face and screaming into it. (Then he pretend he didn't do that after feeling very unprofessional.)

Morning came way too soon.

Meta Knight had slept a total of... maybe twenty-three minutes, collectively. The rest of the night had been spent lying perfectly still, blinking at the ceiling and replaying the entirety of his life choices, with a special extended loop of “You might be in love with your floating, adorable houseguest who alphabetizes your tea.”

By the time he dragged himself into the kitchen, his cape was on crooked, and he was holding his coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

Magolor was already there.

Whistling.

Cooking.

Smiling.

Dangerously chipper.

Meta Knight froze in the doorway.

Magolor glanced over his shoulder. “Morning!”

“...How are you THIS awake.”

“I slept great!” Magolor beamed, flipping a waffle with way too much enthusiasm. “Honestly, best night’s sleep I’ve had in forever.”

Meta Knight stared. Suspicious. “Really.”

“Yep!” Magolor twirled the spatula. “It’s like a huge weight’s been lifted! Now that I got that whole spice rack kiss guilt off my chest.”

Meta Knight choked slightly on his coffee. “That is not what we are calling it.”

“Too late." Magolor winked. “Anyway, I figured I’d make waffles to keep the peace. You like waffles, right?”

Meta Knight, still recovering, gave a slow, suspicious nod. “...Yes.”

He sat at the table, staring at Magolor like he was trying to decode an ancient language.

Magolor hummed as he continued to flip the waffles like he was a natural at it.

(He was by the way. 🙂)

He then glanced at Meta Knight.

Meta Knight blinked.

“You okay?” Magolor asked, tilting his head.

“Yes.” Meta Knight muttered. (WELL THAT WAS A BIG LIE.)

After a long pause... Meta Knight looked at Magolor and finally worked up the courage to say something. Anything. Maybe even... try to explain how his heart had staged a dramatic opera last night in his ribcage.

But just as he opened his mouth—

THWAP.

Something smacked him square in the side of the head.

A waffle.

An actual airborne waffle.

Magolor had accidentally flipped it to dramatically.

Magolor froze, "OH MY- I'M SO SORRY!!! I DIDN'T-!!!!"

Meta Knight just slowly wiped syrup off his helmet, stunned into silence for the fiftieth time this week.

This house was chaos.

And apparently, he was in love in the middle of it.

"It's... alright." He muttered.

The day passed in a blur of awkward silences and stolen glances.

Meta Knight was convinced his soul had left his body sometime around mid-breakfast and had not yet returned. Magolor, meanwhile, was kind of terrified.

Meta Knight wasn't mad. He REALLY wasn't.

But Magolor didn't know that.

He felt like he just poked the bear...but he would rather it be an actual bear to be honest.

Meta Knight was a man with power, in which Magolor thought was terrifying and beautiful in the same time.

So Magolor just acted casual. Not suspicious AT ALL.

(Which was what he thought when he didn't even realize that he put the milk in the cabinet. The sugar in the fridge, and at one point forgot how to hover and just slowly sank to the floor while staring into space.)

By evening, it was raining.

Just a steady, sleepy drizzle that made everything feel softer. Cozier. Quieter.

They ended up on the couch in the living room, because Magolor had declared that “tonight we are doing nothing and watching a movie and you cannot stop me." and Meta Knight, still reeling from the sheer emotional chaos of the day, had simply nodded and sat down without protest.

The couch was small.

They were sitting very close, and about halfway through the movie Magolor blinked slowly, and his head was starting to dip.

Meta Knight glanced over.

Magolor blinked again.

Then, completely and utterly without warning, he slumped sideways.

Right onto Meta Knight’s shoulder.

Few moments later the movie ended. The credits rolled. Meta Knight didn’t move.

Eventually, he dared to glance down at the tiny weight leaning against him. Magolor’s ears twitched softly in his sleep, his breath gentle and even. His scarf had shifted a little, revealing the faint glow of his magic pulse, steady and calm.

Meta Knight’s chest tightened.

“M-Magolor? I think I…” he whispered, so quietly even he wasn’t sure he said it out loud, “I think I might—”

BOOM.

A sudden crack of thunder shattered the quiet, so loud it rattled the windows.

Magolor shot awake with a yelp, nearly jumping out of his own skin. His eyes were wide, glowing in panic, and he immediately latched onto Meta Knight with all limbs like a terrified barnacle.

“WH-WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Meta Knight blinked, startled, both arms suddenly full of clingy, shivering wizard. “...Thunder.”

Another rumble shook the room, and Magolor let out a very uncharacteristic squeak, burrowing closer.

“Oh stars— oh stars, that’s LOUD—!”

Meta Knight, still processing the fact that he now had a lap full of panicked Magolor, gently wrapped his arms around him. “It’s alright. It’s just a storm.”

“Storm??” Magolor’s voice wobbled. “We didn’t have those on Halcandra! It was just kinda… well...lava! What kind of planet yells from the sky like that?!”

Meta Knight held back a laugh. “This one, apparently.”

Magolor’s ears flattened, and he buried his face in Meta Knight’s cape. “I don’t like it. It’s mean.”

Poor Magolor looked heartbreakingly small in that moment — curled up, tense, glowing a little brighter from his nerves.

It made Meta Knight softened.

He shifted slightly - letting Magolor rest fully against him, pulling the cape around both of them like a blanket.

“You’re safe here.” he said quietly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Magolor peeked up, eyes wide and unsure.

“…Promise?”

Meta Knight nodded once. Firm. “I promise.”

The storm roared again, but Magolor didn’t flinch this time. His fingers tightened on Meta Knight’s armor, but his breathing slowly began to calm. He blinked, then gave a tiny, tired laugh.

“I guess… I’m really just a big scaredy-cat, huh.”

Meta Knight shook his head. “No. You’re just not used to it. That’s not the same.”

Magolor looked at him for a long moment.

“…You’re really good at this...” he murmured. “The whole… comforting thing.”

Meta Knight’s face went pink under his mask. “I'm not-"

“You are.”

They were quiet again, listening to the rain. Magolor’s grip stayed firm, but there was a softness to it now — not fear, just closeness.

Meta Knight felt his heart internally screaming again.

“Magolor..." he said softly. “I… I was going to say something. Before the storm.”

Magolor looked up at him, eyes wide and searching. “Yeah?”

Another rumble in the distance.

Meta Knight hesitated.

The words were right there.

“I…”
His voice caught.

But then Magolor leaned his head back against Meta Knight’s shoulder, closing his eyes.

“It's okay...you can tell me whenever your ready...” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Meta Knight melted.

“…Alright.” he said, tucking his cape a little tighter around them both. “Later.”

And they stayed like that — curled up together, hearts thundering louder than the storm outside.

Now the morning light filtered in through the curtains, painting everything in pale gold.

Meta Knight looked down at the sleepy mage still tangled in his cape and felt his chest ache in the most bewildering, terrifying, soft way.

Magolor stirred.

He blinked and then stretched like a sleepy cat, and groan. “Mmmgh. Where am I...? Did the sky stop yelling...?"

“You fell asleep on me.” Meta Knight said calmly, like his brain wasn’t imploding.

Magolor froze mid-stretch. “...Oh.”

They stared at each other.

The moment stretched between them like taffy — sweet, stretchy, and just on the edge of snapping.

“Right..." Magolor said quickly, sitting up way too fast. “Right, okay. Um...Sorry! About the— the clinging. Last night. That was a panic cuddle. A practical survival cuddle. Very standard. Nothing to read into.”

Meta Knight blinked. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh. Good. Cool.” Magolor tugged at his scarf like it was choking him. “Me neither. Totally normal amount of minding. Or not minding. Yep.”

Meta Knight sat up, smoothing his cape. “...Do you want breakfast?”

“Yes." Magolor said as he smiled awkwardly, ears still pink. 🌷✨💕

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

🌟💖 PART 5 IS HERE!!!💖🌟
Only TWO more parts left before the story wraps up!! 😭🍓✨
You've all been so incredibly sweet and encouraging through this whole journey, and I just want to say THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart!!! 💕🌷

Your kindness has meant everything to me. I still get nervous sometimes, but thanks to your support - I feel so much more confident about sharing my stories now!! 🥹💫🍭

Can we keep floating through this Metalor fluffy world together till the very end~! ✨🪐🍬

[brandoscomet]

im back for more diego x vampire!reader heheee o(｀ω´ )o

Since vampires have regenerative abilities what if reader and diego were fighting another stand user and reader purposefully gets attacked to trap the person they’re fighting but diego is like UNAWARE of the healing so he thinks reader is sacrificing themselves and the enemy is killed or whatever but reader casually gets back up maybe a little woozy from the blood loss AND HES SO CONFUSED 😭😭 i think it would be so silly -🦇

HI 🦇!!! So glad you’re back!

Sorry this took so long, so much has happened that I haven’t had much time to write 😭. I missed school on Monday this week, so I’m “grounded” for the rest of the school year and won’t have my phone back (except for when I’m at work or school) until June-

So getting things written is gonna be interesting. But I’ll try my best to still get things out to you all, because I do really enjoy writing these.

****most requests will not be in order, I’m picking the ones I feel I can finish quickly and accurately first, just so I can have content to post instead of sitting on one request for days on end because I have to think about how to write it 😭

This is so embarrassing, I don’t think any of my friends’ parents have grounded them since they were in, like, ninth grade lol (which was only 2 years ago, but still!!!)

ANYWAYS!!

————————————

Peril - Diego Brando X Reader

————————————

The attack came out of nowhere. You and your partner, Diego, were riding through the American desert when, all of a sudden, Diego was struck off of his horse.

You watched in horror as he hit the ground with a hard, hollow thud behind you.

Diego’s horse skidded to a halt while you willed your own to do a sharp turnaround, trying to get back to Diego before whatever hit him could do it again.

When you reached him, he was trying to stand, dusting himself off. It was clear that the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and you felt bad, but there was no time for either of you to catch your bearings— you had to worry about an enemy you couldn’t detect.

“You were behind me— did you see where it came from?” Diego rasped, still trying to catch his breath.

“I have no clue. I didn’t see anything”

He sucked his teeth, frustrated that he’d been caught off guard.

Standing back-to-back with Diego, you two tried to locate your attacker. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted it hurdling towards you two out of the sandy ground.

A long, black tendril with an inky hand on the end emerged from the earth and slammed into Diego once again, its dark-matter “fingers” digging into his leg and leaving deep, gnarled gashes in the flesh of his shin. And then it retreated back underground.

Diego hissed in pain as he stumbled backwards into you, sending you careening into the ground.

And then, as you lay for a split second, an Idea hit you. It seemed like the hand had tried to grab him and pull him under with it, but barely missed, and instead just badly wounded his leg.

That was odd to you, but you didn’t dwell on the thought of it for long.

The next thing you know, Diego is pushing you to the side, narrowly avoiding another strike.

“God, Y/N, this is really NOT the time to zone out. If you don’t get your head out of your ass, this is going to get really ugly.” He said, exasperated at your lack of attention.

“Sorry, Dio, I was just thinking….. the stand user knows where we are. We’re not moving or making much noise, so there’s no way it’s tracking us through vibrations or sound. They have to be able to see us.”

He stood, eyes darting around the ground, trying to predict where it would come from next.

“…so they can’t be far. I have a feeling that the only place they could be is over there—“

You pointed to a pile of rocks that couldn’t have been more than 400 feet away. (A little bit over a football field, for reference.)

“— behind those rocks. So since they have to be using their sense of sight, if I start running, naturally they’ll focus on me, leaving you unsupervised. And then you can sneak off the other direction and make your way over there and kick the life out of them. Okay?”

He hesitated, still focused on the ground, thinking for a second or two. And then, his eyes met yours. He nodded. In a sudden burst of movement, you took off, running as fast as you possibly could. With your heightened senses, you could feel the vibration of the stand following behind you, shallow in the ground, lagging behind you ever-so-slightly.

But then, after about 30 seconds of you sprinting the complete opposite direction of Diego, it lunged up and out of the sand — grabbing one side of your waist, digging its midnight claws into your side, and pulled.

The next thing you know, you were being dragged under the surface. For a moment, you thought it was going to leave you buried there. But after a few seconds, you popped back up onto the sand. This time, you were behind the rock. It had ripped a large chunk out of your torso in its effort to bring you here. For once, you were grateful you were a vampire. If you were mortal, that injury would have meant death.

When you resurfaced, (not-so-)gravely wounded and dizzy from the sheer volume of blood you’d lost at this point, you were left laying on the ground, watching Diego smash the living shit out of the stand’s user. He was a small man, and looked rather weak. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight.

After a minute or two of Diego beating the guy senseless, he stopped moving, and everything was quiet again except for the sound of the wind blowing across the landscape.

And then, he turned to you, finally realizing you were there.

Diego believed he’d never been truly afraid before. Not since he was a kid, anyway. But he felt his stomach twist into a sickened knot when he saw you lying on the ground. Paler than usual. Dazed. Bleeding. Missing a rather worrying chunk of your guts.

Immediately, all he could feel was rage. “What the hell happened?” He demanded, his voice sharp and biting, hiding something vulnerable and afraid underneath. “You weren’t supposed to let him catch you!”

“Jeez, Diego, can you be quiet for a second? Just give me a minute.”

He finally reached you after rushing over, dropping to his knees next to you. Completely dumbfounded.

“Give you a minute? You’re missing half of your damn midsection, Y/N. Don’t tell me to give you a fucking minute.”

You’d never seen him this worried before. It almost made you feel bad for the cocky bastard.

Almost.

“Relax. I’m fine. Don’t be such a drama queen.” You said, standing up. He stood up with you, catching you when you stumbled into him, dizzy from the blood loss.

Diego was shocked. And totally pissed off. He didn’t know what was going on or how he was supposed to feel, but it confused him, and that definitely didn’t help.

You held your hand over the gaping hole in your side, wincing. “Shit, there’s so much sand in it, this stings so bad, oh my god….” You mumbled, watching the wound slowly get smaller and smaller.

“So, you’ve had a healing stand this whole time, and hid it from me, huh?” Diego began, skeptical, assuming the worst.

“God, Diego, your trust issues are showing,” he scoffed, making a pissy face in reaction to your blunt jab at his emotional unavailability.

“It’s not like that at all. I guess I should have explained all of my abilities when I told you I’d been transformed, but this just comes with it. The healing thing, I mean.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” He said. He was a little bit embarrassed about thinking you’d hidden your stand from him, but he’d never admit that.

“You were pretty concerned about me though, huh, Diego?” You jived, giving him a playful smirk. “You were SO panicking. You just couldn’t POSSIBLY imagine finishing this race without me by your side, huh?”

He gave you a nasty side eye at your teasing, but you couldn’t help but notice the faint brush of red creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“If you don’t cut that out right now, maybe I will just finish the race without you.”

“Oh sure. I’m sure you will. So sure, in fact, that I’ll just ride off on my horse right now, and drop out of the race.” You teased again.

“You wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much.” Diego said, leaning against one of the rocks and plopping himself down in the shade. With the adrenaline worn off, he was really starting to feel the wound in his leg. He winced in pain as he adjusted the way he was sitting, squeezing his eyes shut tight and bearing his teeth as his movements irritated the deep, ugly thing.

“Maybe I would,” you said, smiling. Noticing his discomfort, though, you started walking back towards your horses, who thankfully hadn’t wandered too far off. “I’ll be back with the horses in a minute. I have a first-aid kid in my satchel. Sit tight, okay?”

Diego finished adjusting himself, gasping through gritted teeth as he laid his injured leg flat, and grunted out a “thank you” as you disappeared around the corner. While he was waiting for you to return with your and his belongings, all he could think about was you.

He decided internally that, no, he probably couldn’t finish this race without you.

And when you returned, and he allowed you to sit close enough to touch him, put your hands on him, and clean and patch up his wounds, you knew he felt that way, too. Even if he was too proud to say it to your face.

————————————

[charliegyrth]

Go with the Flow - Part 6 of 9

Running on the Beach

Read Part 5 here.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early to take a jog along the beach. Kai and I used to do that together at least once a week. Since I didn’t surf, it was our way of enjoying the ocean together. We’d run as close to the water as we could. He was always faster than me, so whenever I caught up to him, I’d tackle him to the ground and we’d make out as the water rushed over us. It was straight out of some old movie.

This morning, I jogged alone. Kai was still snoring in bed, sleeping off last night’s fettuccine. I missed him, but I used the alone time to sort through my thoughts about my husband's gradual changes.

Yes, Kai was eating more. And constantly. That was the most obvious change. But with that newfound hunger came an increased sluggishness. He no longer had the quick-moving, youthful energy that I’d fallen in love with. If he had joined me on the beach, I’d probably be faster than him. He’d be the one chasing after me and tackling me onto the sand.

I liked that.

I liked how he’d become more exact with his movements, more… solid, I guess. Instead of flitting around from place to place, he moved like a man who knew where he wanted to go and took his time to get there. He knew what he wanted and asked for it. Usually that was food. Or me. Or both.

And he was happy.

So as I sped along the lapping water, as the cool morning breeze struck my face, all I could think about was Kai, and how lucky I was to have him.

By the time I got back home, Kai was already awake. He sat on the couch, digging crumbs out of a mostly empty bag of potato chips. Licking his fingers. Listening to classic rock on the TV.

“Morning,” I said, still out of breath from my run.

He jumped, sending the bag flying. “Babe, you scared me.” Crumbs were all over his pajama shirt. All over the couch, too. Along with two other empty potato chip bags.

I smiled. Three empty bags, and I knew for a fact that they’d been unopened the night before. “You like those, huh?”

He thought for a second. “Actually, I think we should get the spicy nacho ones next time.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Why are you so happy?”

I guess I was smiling without realizing it. “No reason,” I said.

“Okay…” he said and licked the salt off his fingers.

“So, um… We need to go shopping soon. What… other foods do you prefer?”

His face lit up when I asked that. He jumped off the couch and ran into the bedroom without answering. He returned ten seconds later with a paper in his hand. I couldn’t believe it. He’d already written a list of what he wanted.

It was a long list, too. Lots of ingredients for different pasta dishes. A whole variety of packaged snacks (mostly with chocolate). Different flavors of ice cream. Donuts.

“When did you write this?”

“Yesterday while you were in the gym,” he answered. “I was eating some Cheetos and… Oh, I forgot to add Cheetos.”

I winked at him. “I’ll make a mental note.”

Of course, I went straight to the supermarket and bought everything he asked for. Thankfully, he chose snacks that I genuinely didn’t like. I thought that was a good thing. Let Kai take in all the calories himself.

When I looked down at the absolutely overloaded shopping cart, I felt that familiar twinge of guilt. I was becoming obsessed with overfeeding my husband. It wasn’t right.

But then I reminded myself that he’d chosen these snacks. I wasn’t doing anything behind his back.

Okay, I did add a few extra pints of ice cream, just in case. And a discount cheesecake. But other than that, the groceries were all his idea.

***

That night, Kai and I sat together and watched another horror movie. It had been a while since I picked what we watched. Once I’d handed him the remote all those weeks ago, he’d never given it back.

And I was fine with that. I liked romcoms, but I didn’t like them nearly as much as Kai liked horror movies.

Throughout the movie, he finished off a pint and a half of ice cream. I could tell that he was pushing himself to eat a bit more than he wanted. I think that was because he expected another belly rub.

Which I gave him. Of course. Any excuse to get my hands on his jam-packed belly was fine by me.

I’d gotten better at belly rubs, too. I knew how to touch all the places that would make him moan. I knew how hard to press before he got uncomfortable. I even knew exactly what to do to bring out one of his deep-throated burps. Sometimes I was in the mood for that.

My hands were getting tired, so I pulled away. He grabbed me by the wrist and forced me to continue.

“You want anything else?” I asked. I noticed that his ice cream was finished.

“Ugh. No more room,” he muttered. Ten seconds later, he said, “Actually, I forgot we had that cheesecake. I think we should try it.”

I kissed his bare belly and ran into the kitchen.

When I got back in, he had one hand on his bloated stomach and the other in his sweatpants. “I think I’m horny now.”

I turned around to put the cheesecake back, but he stopped me. “What are you doing? I still want that.”

By the time I walked over with the cheesecake, I was as hard as he was.

I placed the cheesecake on the coffee table with a plate and a fork. He took the tray of cheesecake but left the plate and fork behind. Good. The faster we ate, the sooner we could get down to business. We hadn’t made love in a while (he was always too overfull to bottom) and I missed it.

He balanced the cake on his gut and started eating it with his bare hands.

God, watching him give in to the taste was the best kind of foreplay I could imagine. I slid my hand under the tray and stroked his belly. “Lower,” he growled through the cheesecake.

Oh.

I slid my hand past his belly and pulled down his sweatpants just enough to take hold of him. As he ate, I pumped up and down. His chewing kept the rhythm and my hand followed along. The cake tray was in the way, so I had to reach my arm at an awkward angle. I’m pretty good with hand jobs, but this wasn’t my best work.

I let go.

“Don’t stop,” he grumbled, bits of cake falling out of his mouth.

I crawled onto the floor, held myself steady against his knees, and lowered my face into his warm crotch.

“Oh,” he said as I took him—all of him—into my mouth. With crumbs raining down on the top of my head, I sucked him dry. I could tell he was close to releasing, but he somehow willed himself to hold back until the entire cheesecake was stuffed into his stomach. Then all at once, his whole body shuddered and he blasted the back of my throat full-force.

I guess we both had our fill that night.

I wiped my mouth and climbed back onto the couch, still fully erect.

He glanced down at my tented shorts. “Babe, sorry. I… don’t have the energy.”

I felt a pang of frustration, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I walked back into the kitchen, feeling myself throb in anticipation, and came back with a gallon of half-and-half. It was only a third of the way full. I placed it next to him. “You have energy for this?”

He looked at me funny but took the bottle and started chugging. As I watched him force it all down, I dropped my pants and pleasured myself. I was already really close, so it didn’t take long. We finished together.

Read Part 7 here. You can find all my stories here.

And if you'd like to read the full story now, check out the ebook. This story will always be free on Tumblr, but you can also buy it on Amazon (with a bonus story).

[sunbeamah]

Would you consider the making a fic where the Kusozu Brothers react to Canon or meeting canon?

I'd just like to sincerely apologise for how long this took, I truly am so sorry. I started writing as soon as you sent this, and went through about seven drafts before I realised that I'm really not good enough to write ten characters meeting alternate versions of themselves-- so I hope you'll accept Sukuna's Exploits in Canon and the headcanons beneath the cut!

Choso

Choso hates almost everyone in canon.

He hates the coach from episode 1;

"Why is he, as a schoolteacher, blackmailing students, making bets with them and changing what club you signed up for??? CREEP!

Megumi,

"Why does he have to be in this?"

Sorcerers,

"EXECUTED?!"

Gojo,

"IN HIS BASEMENT??????"

Nobara,

"You're not an idiot, Otouto, don't listen to her."

Junpei,

"If he just listened to you (Yuuji) he wouldn't have traumatised you by dying!"

Todo,

Now at first he liked Todo. He knows that's Yuki's younger brother for one, and on top of that the first thing Todo does is try to beat Megumi half to death

"Omg I love that kid."

When Yuuji and Todo fight, things start to slip a bit..

"I like that kid way less now."

And when Todo calls Yuuji brother.......

"I hate that kid now. Who does he think he is? I'm your big brother. Not him. You already have Eso, why do you need another tall, tan, muscular brother??"

Yuuji: Well--

Sukuna: Well nothing, whip me out, I'll show him whose 'buraza' you are.

Choso likes Nanami though.

When his brothers are like "??? Just like that?" he goes:

"I liked it when he said that Yuuji's the child and he's the adult. It seems like, though he;s endeared by Yuuji, he still maintains and appropriate and professional distance with him. And he's protecting you two (Sukuna and Yuuji) while we're off doing whatever it is we're doing.

Which begs the question! What are they doing?

When the death paintings are introduced, Choso is excited! And then the fight happens. Way less excited.

If they were watching JJK as a tv show, this is where Choso stops watching. They can try to make him come back all they like, Choso is NOT standing for it. Even if they get him to watch s2, as soon as he sees Gojo he's leaving.

If they made him see himself... I think he'd break the TV as soon as he struck Yuuji for the first time

And if they showed him his final scene, I think he'd weep in relief. And be excited that Yuki rocked up!

Eso

For the whole of season one, he's waiting for his debut.

"This is so boring when do we show up?"

"Imagine if Yuuji left us back in Sendai."

"If I were there Junpei would've lived. Just saying."

"UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"Bring me in I'll shut Sukuna up."

BUT! There are some highlights for him. Such as:

Nanami.

Eso, licking his lips: You reckon he's (Nanamin's) ever been outta the country?

Yuuji: Eso-nii you are NOT fucking my train bestie.

Eso: "I'll take you to Malaysia baby."

Megumi!

During the fight with Todo he's cheering him on hard out.

"Yeah get him Megumi!! Finish summoning whatever that is, I've been seeing it! Actually do it this time! 4th time's the charm! Beat his ass!!" (It's his Mahoraga fists)

Other than that, it's been a dull watch for him.

Until they appear!:

Eso: FINALLY!

Kechizu: it’s us!!!!!! Niichan why do you look like you haven’t slept in 100 years

Sukuna: Wdym, he looks the exact same

Yuuji: I hate to say it, Choso-nii, but… he’s right.

Choso: They’re not that bad.. (pulls out his phone to check)

Choso:

Choso: Oh. 

Eso: Hey wait, why are we asking why Niisan looks like that, when we should be asking..

Kechizu: Shut up

Eso: Why YOU look like THAT

Yuuji: Ooooo I love the body horror

Kechizu: !!? BODY HORROR! 

Sukuna: He looks cooler than you do.

Yuuji: I look the same though?

Sukuna: yeah exactly

And when the Yuuji and Nobara vs Eso and Kechizu fight starts:

Eso: Oooooooou we’re gonna fight, Yuu-chan! Money’s on me, this protag’s been winning too many fights lately

Kechizu: His friend literally just died. And Todo beat him up.

Eso: Still, in the end everything was fine. I’m sure once Yuuji uses his ‘I’m your brother’ cursed technique, we’ll stop fighting and everything will be A-OK!

Sukuna: Yuuji should use my power to put you down like the dog you are

Eso: Your reputation couldn’t handle how hard I’d whoop your ass

And when it ends:

Eso, mouth open, jaw dropped, flies coming out, pissed: It’s rigged. It’s rigged! I would 100% win a fight against Yuuji, and I’ll prove it right now

Unfortunately for him, by this point Yuuji is too busy being cradled by a wildly sobbing Choso.

He does NOT want to watch the show after he dies. But when he hears Gojo gets sealed and Choso's gonna show up, he makes a concession for those episodes.

Eso: Gayest death scene in the whole show, tops Junpei's by miles.

Yuuji: He's not even dead!!!!

Now he insists he won't watch till Choso's on, but when he sees Nanami's new look... Let's just say he's sat for Dull Knife.

Eso: Yuuji I love you. I love you so much. You're my babiest of brothers. I'll always love you. But for fucks sake you did NOT deserve to be the one to meet Nanami out of all of us!!!

Yuuji: ?! Kechizu did too?!

Eso: And I'm still pissed NEITHER of you introduced him to me. Like?????? Have you seen the man???????????????? When he gets back from Malaysia he'll literally be my ideal type. I hate you two.

Eso: --and so, not only would it be neglect, but it would also be legally wrong of you not to introduce him to me.

Yuuji: NO!

Eso: AND HIS NAME IS:::: ZENIN TOJIIII! (John Cena theme plays from his phone)

Yuuji: You HATED him! You hated him before this!

Eso: And now for the purposes of the show I love him! Uncle-in-law! 

Kechizu: Wow… I really should’ve remembered Nanami, huh? 

Yuuji: ENOUGH!

Sukuna: Brat, even you can admit he’s hot. Look how they drew him. It’s softcore porn, beatdown edition. 

Eso: Hey do you have his phone number?

Yuuji: NO!

Choso: Good. 

Eso: I’ll come with you to and from school next time. I should thank him.

Yuuji: BACK!!! OFF!!!

Kechizu: Yeah! Leave some for the rest of us! Yuuji and Choso: NO!

Kechizu: I thought you liked him, Oniichan!

Choso: Well yes, but… 

Sukuna: Don’t tell me your type is blonds…

Choso: I only like the one blonde…… Maybe a second one now, but–

Yuuji: CAN EVERYONE STOP HITTING ON NANAMIN?

And then Choso's episode!!:

Contrary to everyone else in the room, Eso's enjoying himself.

Eso: AND THEN HIT HIM WITH THE RIGHT HOOK! AND THEN SUPERNOVA HIM! AND THEN DIVERGENT FIST TO THE STOMACH! AND THEN SLICE HIM WITH A BLOOD BLADE! AND THEN--

By the middle-end area he quietens down out of respect for the... Mourners.

Choso, crying, can’t watch his fight scene: JUST REALISE!!! IT CAN’T BE THAT HARD!!! I HAVE A BLOOD TECHNIQUE!!!!!!!!

Sukuna: YUUJI! USE ME! WHIP! ME! OUT! YUUJI FOR FUCKS SAKES–! 

Kechizu: DON’T HIT HIM HE’S JUST A BABY!!!!!! YOUR BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Eso, visibly disturbed: I think you should all step out for a minute...

As soon as he gets the sense that Nanami's about to die, he leaves.

Eso: I'm not watching that shit! Call me when Niisan gets back.

Kechizu

tries to cover the twins' eyes when there's violence

it doesn't work because, in the beginning, show!Sukuna IS the violence

Very vocally dislikes Gojo, always takes an issue with whatever he has to say or do.

Kechizu: 'ten seconds' what a creep. Sukuna'll teach him a lesson when he gets all his fingers back.

Kechizu: Executed??? What a pushover! If he's so powerful he should just kill the higher ups.

As soon as Kamo Noritoshi's name is said during the sexchange event arc, Kechizu is piping up

Kechizu: DAD???????

He's 100% convinced their father has been deaged and put into the Kyoto school

Cries when Eso dies, but is willing to watch the rest of the show because Yuuji and Sukuna are in it!

(lives to regret that^)

Interestingly enough, though, he enjoys the hidden inventory arc

cheers when Toji sells Megumi and kills Gojo, but when Kusozu Sukuna defends Geto, suddenly he has an issue with mr Fushiguro and 'see, Yuuji, this is why you need to break up with that boy'

when Sukuna starts killing people in Shibuya (indirectly after the first few kills since he's fighting Jogo), Kechizu spends 90% of the episode defending him

Kechizu: they should've just moved if they didn't want to get exterminated! What's stopping them?!

Sukuna: I'm saying!

Yuuji: THE BARRIER!

Chokes on his snacks when he sees the flashback to Kamo Noritoshi, points at the screen wildly and concocts the most batshit insane theory that Choso and Eso (who are no longer watching at this point) believe wholeheartedly

Kechizu: So you see, Dad must have a duplicate technique that requires a brainswap, and he's clearly split his consciousness between Kemo Noritoshi and Geto's body, and so he was the real mole this whole time. Ignore that puppet kid in the bath, he's a decoy.

Choso: I see

Eso: It's all coming together

Yuuji: ?????????????

Sukuna, lying: You're so right. I see it now. Are you sure you didn't write the show yourself, Keke Akusotami?

When Yuki pulls up he's the only brother other than Choso that's happy to see her

Kechizu: OH THANK FUCK! GET THEM YUKI!!!!!!!

Sukuna

Endlessly entertained by himself at first

His favourite line is Show!Sukuna's very first words: "WHERE ARE THE WOMEN? THE CHILDREN?!"

It took him 15 minutes to stop laughing and another 10 to actually process what else was going on in the show

During the prison episode he's still kind of amused when Show!Kuna just straight up kills Yuuji. The only things that irk him are:

Sukuna: I don't like how I'm lookin at Fushiguro right now.

Sukuna: 'show me something special' he doesn't have anything special

Sukuna: Why couldn't I have killed all three of them??

Doesn't like Nanami. He doesn't hate him or anything, he just has no interest in him.

(Secretly, he's been holding a grudge ever since Nanami said he didn't acknowledge Yuuji as a sorcerer)

When Junpei dies, Sukuna feels kind of bad, but only because Kusozu Yuuji is crying so hard

Sukuna: I wouldn’t laugh like that if he died. Not in front of you. Probably in private. Maybe at the funeral. If you ran off crying. Or if you didn’t then I’d do it silently. This is just overkill, really. Ha, overkill. Get it? Cause he got killed… Over top of you. But yeah I wouldn’t laugh in your face, that's crazy. Like you are now. Cause your friend’s de–

Eso: Bro..

Kechizu: Sukuna-kun I think you made your point!!

After that he's less eager to see himself.

But he still insists Yuuji "whip him out" every time there's trouble. Like when he's being bullied by the Tokyo school for coming back from the dead; fighting Todo, Hanami, making eye contact with Gojo-- all worthy of the wrath of the king of curses

When the death painting arc starts::

Eso: Oooooooou we’re gonna fight, Yuu-chan! Money’s on me, this protag’s been winning too many fights lately

Kechizu: His friend literally just died. And Todo beat him up.

Eso: Still, in the end everything was fine. I’m sure once Yuuji uses his ‘I’m your brother’ cursed technique, we’ll stop fighting and everything will be A-OK!

Sukuna: Yuuji should use my cursed technique to put you down like the dog you are

Eso: Your reputation couldn’t handle how hard I’d whoop your ass

But by the time the arc is ending, Sukuna is getting a liiiiitle, small, tiny, teensy bit sad. Mostly because Kechizu is bawling his eyes out.

Sticks around for the next arc! All the Kusozu brothers leave after the first five minutes, unwilling to watch anymore, leaving only Sukuna and Yuuji. But first::

Choso: Why do we have to see this irrelevant’s lifestory? (Gojo’s)

Eso: This perv again..

Kechizu: I hope his boyfriend dies. 

Sukuna: That’s dark. Not me. That’s sensei right there. I hope his girl friend dies. 

Yuuji: She doesn’t die you idiot she’s literally in season 1

Sukuna: And season 1 comes before season 2, I’m not the idiot here. 

Yuuji:

Hidden Inventory becomes Sukuna's favourite arc pretty quickly! It only loses its spot when Megumi appears at the end

Eso: GET HIM TOJI!!! YES!!!!!!!

Yuuji: You guys are just doing it to irritate me at this point, ‘cause there’s no way you hate him this much

Kechizu: HE DID IT!!!! HE KILLED HIM!!!!!!

Yuuji: You know he comes back, right??

Sukuna: SHUT UP BUZZKILL WE’RE TRYING TO SAVOUR THE MOMENT!

Yuuji: Choso-nii why are you pausing…

Choso: (takes a picture of Gojo’s ‘dead’ body)

Yuuji:

Hates the filler ep, wants to get back to the killing people part, that was his favourite

He's excited for the Shibuya incident, so much so that he almost doesn't notice he hasn't spoken a single word all season

He's hurling abuse at the TV during the choso vs yuuji ep, but then again he's hurling abuse at the TV no matter what episode is playing

He's convinced that if Show!Yuuji just gives him control, everything will be fine!

(He's wrong. He's so deeply wrong.)

Has the time of his life during the Sukuna takeover eps

Actually giggled (half of it was out of shock!) when Nanako and Mimiko got killed (HE WOULD! I'M SORRY BUT HE WOULD!!

Does a victory lap around the room during the Jogo fight

Sukuna: GET HIM! SLICE HIM AGAIN! FUCK THE DOCOMO TOWER! FUCK THOSE CARS! THAT'S WHAT IM TALKIN ABOUT!!!!!! NOW HIT HIM WITH THE-- what the fuck-- WHAT THE FUCK! FUUGA?!?!?! FUUGA!!!!!!!!

Sukuna: Why am I saving Fushiguro again? He's the one who decided to kill himself, how is that my problem??

He only calms down a bit once Show!Yuuji comes back and has a breakdown.

Pretends to be totally unaffected but secretly presses his knee to Yuuji's

Sukuna: all that and I still didn't get Kenjaku? Really?

Yuuji: Who's Kenjaku???

Sukuna, who got bored after his eps and looked up spoilers to pass the time: ...........

[hrefna-the-raven]

She's a good one

Horror masterlist - Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

Kenneth "Leatherface" Slaughter x female reader

Words: 881

Warnings: blood, murder

Notes: I just finished the 2022 TCM and omg Leatherface is just <3

Summary: You volunteered to accompany the nice old lady and her son to the hospital but then she died on the way and it all escalated....

Reader: wrote this with a short female reader in mind, but no specific descriptions are used

Nothing made sense to him anymore as his whole world crumbled away before his eyes. After discovering the ideal hiding place, he led a tranquil life alongside his foster mother Ginny. They may have been lacking a few things here and there, but overall, they were happy, or at least okay. However, everything changed when those cursed idealists arrived, accusing Ginny of occupying 'their' property, the looming threat of loosing her only sanctuary weighed heavily on her, eventually overwhelming her fragile heart. Anger surged through him like a raging inferno, threatening to consume all, within and outside, and yet, the very last words his mother spoke to him echoed through his mind as he cradled her lifeless body. Suddenly, the unsteady shuffling of feet on the soil caught his attention, and he found himself staring at Sheriff Hathaway who was ready to kill him. Kenneth recognised the insatiable craving in the sheriff's eyes, the dark desire crawling underneath the skin, clawing and tearing until it could finally break free. The temptation gnawed at Kenneth as he gently laid his mother on the ground and turned his gaze towards the gun. He clenched his fists and as he tried to shift and get up, the cop cocked his gun. The sheriff's breath hitched and a trail of blood trickled down his face, a constant reminder of the bullet wound that was slowly killing him. If Kenneth would survive this, he'd tear the sheriff apart, just as he had done with the deputy. Suddenly the sheriff groaned, his body slowly sinking down, revealing you standing there, ramming a knife into Hathaway's back over and over again until he collapsed onto the ground, face pressed against the soil of the sunflower field while he took his last breaths. Kenneth tilted his head, his sallow eyes searching yours. They held an emotion he had only witnessed once before - empathy.

"Are you okay?", your gentle voice called out to him.

Its tone carrying a beautiful melody that struck a chord deep within him. You had been so sweet to Ma, promising her that you'd try your best to help them sort it out while cursing at your friends' heartless behaviour. A part of him wondered what would have happened if your friends had backed off. Would you have stayed? Would you have agreed to have dinner with him and Ma? Would you have liked him? None of the answers would matter in the end and he waited for you to come to your senses, finally be like all the others. Fighting, screaming, running, each one of them upon seeing the darkness within him. As he failed to answer you, lost in your gaze, you hurried over to him. Kenneth's heart stopped for a second as you fell on your knees, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. Your sobs of sorrow didn't reach his ears. His mind was overwhelmed with your sweet intoxicating scent invading his senses as soon as you nuzzled your face against his neck. The burning heat of your cheeks seared his skin while each breath passing your lips washed over him, left a serene sense of clarity. She's a good one, be nice, his mother's dying words, echoed through his mind. Like a faint glowing beacon they guided him towards a path where he'd hoped to find harmony to his anger and this new sensation that held you. You'd witnessed what he had done to that deputy and yet you killed the sheriff to save him. If you'd still be staying by his side after he carved off his mother's face and wore it while tearing the rest of your little group apart for the sole sake of revenge, he'd bring you home, the real one and he'd give you everything your heart desired for you'd have become everything his own craved for. His hands slowly caressed your back, a groan nearly escaping his lips as his fingertips glided over the soft fabric of your top. He had to be careful to not get distracted but you felt so incredibly good, a sweet temptation within his endless sea of anger and revenge. He pushed you away gently, his large hands cupping your cheeks while he wiped away the tears with his thumbs. Just as he was about to rise, your lips crashed on his. It was a tender yet needy gesture and when Kenneth finally surrendered to the kiss, he could almost feel his heart stop beating. His very first kiss, born from a connection he'd neither seen nor experienced before but, as the last of his resolve melted away, he was finally ready to accept it. As you both pulled apart, you chuckled slightly while he was slightly panting. Neither of you expected this turn of events when you got up this morning, but here you were, in the middle of nowhere, sitting on your knees, sharing a kiss after having killed a police officer. With a shy smile, you extended the knife towards him.

"Let's finish this."

Those little words passing your lips weighed heavily on Kenneth's mind. He reached out and took hold of the knife, nodding and a broad grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Let's finish this...

[teawithnosugar]

hiii! loooove your writing <3

Would you ever write a one-shot where reader has a bf but is sneaking around with Ellie and Ellie finally gets fed up with it, like why don’t you just leave him?? But then we find out reader is too afraid to dump him because maybe he hurts/threatens reader?

Idk I feel like this could sting but in the best way 🫣

Not Too Late

Ellie x Reader

CW: angst/comfort....I think, abuse, cheating WORDS: 0.9k SYNOPSIS: You aren't as unreasonable as Ellie originally thought SONG: Lover, You Should've Come Over - Jeff Buckley

"Maybe I'm too young To keep good love from going wrong"

AN: I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS, I KNOW I USUALLY GIVE SAD ENDINGS BUT IT FELT WRONG TO NOT GIVE THIS ONE A SOMEWHAT HAPPY END

“Jesus Christ, I remember this…” Ellie said with a grin as she looked at one of the pictures in the photo album you were holding. Together, bare on your bed, you nestled between her legs, her chin resting tenderly upon your shoulder. The warmth of her breath caressed your skin as she nuzzled her nose beneath your ear. You were both looking at pictures from your teenage years, specifically a picture you took with Ellie asleep on your shoulder while both Jesse and Dina drew on her face. You had been friends for years, madly in love for the majority of it. You giggled, smile faltering once you looked outside, the sun was setting which meant your boyfriend Dan would be home soon because unfortunately, the moment you and Ellie confessed your love for each other was 2 months into your relationship with a guy who was relatively new to Jackson.

“Why…why are you still with him?” Ellie asked softly. You both loved each other, she knew you didn’t love him, and you knew she was bound to ask this question sooner or later.

“It’s complicated Els-” 

“It’s not,” you began, only to be interrupted by her swift retort, her tone laced with an icy edge. She was right, you both knew it and she’s been patient with you for the past few months, she had given you the grace of time, patiently awaiting the words you never uttered. 

She untangled herself from you, standing up and picking up her clothes from the floor and starting to dress up. “Els please, give me time-”

“I’ve given you 9 goddamn months Y/N. If you were staying with him because you were pregnant you would’ve given birth by now. Why don’t you just leave him?”

She asked coldly, tying her shoes as she finished dressing up. You stayed quiet, hugging your knees tightly as you stared at the messy sheets. Words lingered on the tip of your tongue, desperate to reveal the way he wields his words like weapons, threatening your very existence. You stayed quiet because, your mind, painting vivid images of the horrors he would inflict on you if you even told him you wanted to leave.

She groaned frustratedly at your silence, walking out of your house and slamming the door shut. You sobbed softly as you started dressing up. She always came back to you after arguments, so you weren’t worried about that. You were just sad because you were hurting her.

When Dan came home, he immediately noticed a flannel on the floor, it wasn’t yours and it sure as hell wasn’t his. There’s no way you got it recently, you had been home for weeks, waiting for the bruises he gave you during your last fight to fade. It’s the reason Ellie even came over, she missed you, and now you missed her.

His fists struck with a brutal force, knocking you to the floor. Frozen in fear, you lay there, limp and defenseless—your body's automatic response. He unbuckled his belt then used it as a whip, the deafening sound the leather made against your skin filled your ears. Shades of crimson danced upon your flesh, an artist's palette of pain. And still, he persisted. When the belt had worn out its cruel dance, he returned to using his bare fists. Amidst the assault, thoughts slithered, attempting to justify his actions, to find reason in this madness. ’Maybe I’m disappointing him? Sometimes men get carried away when they feel like they should be having fun’ Such thoughts whispered in the recesses of your mind, clinging desperately to a semblance of understanding.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as you lay on the floor, broken and bruised. Tentatively, you rose, your trembling form cleaning the bloodstains from the floor, your body seeking refuge beneath the cascading water of the shower. This had become your grim reality—a cycle where beatings transformed from rare occurrences to nightly rituals upon Dan's return. He drained you of strength, providing the bare minimum sustenance required for survival, keeping you physically weak, your spirit tethered.

Days melted into one another, your existence confined to a bedridden state, waiting for Dan's return, awaiting his whims and desires. Initially, your thoughts lingered upon the pain you caused Ellie, but as your senses dulled over the weeks, those thoughts waned. They were replaced by an ache, a longing to see her face, to feel her presence. Dan's venomous threats reverberated in your ears, yet whenever you closed your eyes, all you could see was Ellie, her face shining like a beacon in the darkness.

She’ll come back, she always comes back.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, prompting you to seek solace in sleep, still dressed in your sweater and pajamas. You saw her beautiful face, leaning close, whispering words that were muffled by the buzzing in your ears. A tender smile graced your lips as you beheld her beauty, there was no sight more enchanting. Once the grogginess and the buzzing in your ears faded, you realized this wasn’t a dream.

“Baby are you okay? Can you hear me?”

“Els…?”

If you were in the right state, you would have enveloped her in your arms, holding her close. You would have nestled into her chest as she gently lifted you up. You would’ve seen Dan’s unconscious body by the doorframe of your bedroom. You would’ve noticed the relief on her face because she realized just how much worse you would’ve been if she hadn’t mustered up the courage to try talking to you again. You would’ve noticed the tears threatening to fall down her face because she wasn’t too late.

[spirit-girl-nijisanji]

You will take care of yourself or else I will take care of you!

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

➼ Pairing - Vox Akuma x Sick Vtuber!GN reader

➼ Content - Fluff, established relationship, wholesome luxiem bois & Vox being a protective boy

➼ ⚠️ Please remember I only write for the personas you see on your screen. I do not and will not write for the people behind the models. Please also remember that behind the models there are very real people with very real emotions. Please be respectful towards our beloved Nijisanji EN livers and do your best to separate the real people from the persona reflected on your screen. Thank you so much and enjoy the story ⚠️

➼ Summery: You are very dedicated vtuber, you had been a streak of not missing a stream or missing a collab. An accomplishment yout are very proud of. However a horrible head cold struck you days before a collab with Luxiem. But you weren't going to let that stop you from being at the collab that is until a certain someone decided he wasn't going to allow you to neglect your health. ꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

You were a vtuber that took the form of cupid, your content consisted usually of comfy chatting streams, ASMR/ASMR roleplay streams, minecraft, sometimes horror games, streams where you would read different stories from reddit, karaoke streams and of course collabs with other Nijisanji livers. You had been told many times that people found your voice very soothing.

You debuted along with the group Iluna, they were originally supposed to have six members but you ended up being added in because staff thought you would fit into their group perfectly which to no surprise, you did. You were very close with your genmates, Aster and Kyo were the ones you bonded with almost immediately. Kyo because after you joined, you were the shortest in Iluna and he would constantly defend you when others tried to tease you for your height. Aster because you turned out to be just as chaotic as he was. You enjoyed their company and it was always fun being around them.

You of course also bonded with other livers in Niji EN, the Luxiem boys were the second group you managed to capture the hearts of. The boys always enjoyed your company, especially a specific voice demon. He instantly fell head over heels for you, which oddly you didn't seem to notice for a good long time, he was always flirty so you didn't see anything different. It became a running joke that you were secretly related to Ike with how easily you were able to dodge any flirty advances,

~ During one of your horror game streams; Playing Madison ~

You posted in the discord that you needed some emotional support and of course halfway through typing, you received your first infamous Ike jump scare.

" Okay hold on, I'm gonna type to everyone in the discord, I need some emotional support, I'm terrified. " you said opening the discord on your other monitor and beginning to type,

" I need some.. emotional support, come into the v- " you spoke while typing and half way through the message,

" I'm already here YVT/N~ " A soft spoken voice came through scaring the hell outta you,

" JESUS FUCKING CHRIST- Hi Ike...! You scared the hell out of me...! " you yelped before hearing the Novelist on the other end snicker,

" You aren't officially a Niji liver until you experience the Ike jump scare. " He said while giggling

You rolled your eyes playfully and chuckled while grabbing a chibi PNG of him and setting him on your shoulder and finishing the message in the discord, letting the others know one other person could in if they wanted to. And right on que, the sound of someone else joining rung through your headset,

" Hiii YVT/N~ Hiii Ike~ " the voice of the demon came through in a soft greeting,

" Hi Voxxy~! " You beamed and grabbed a chibi PNG of Vox and set him on your head

Unpausing the game, you continued on, every jumpscare earning a shriek from you, a Swedish curse from Ike and an aggressive 'fuck you!' from Vox. A particularly bad jump scare, caused you to pause the game and take a short break so you could catch your breath.

" Hey, YVT/N...~ " Vox's voice rung out, humming in response to him, you waited for his response,

" The next collab we do together should be our wedding~ " He purred

" Let's continue with the game! " you said earning a laugh from both Vox and Ike,

" You sure she's not related to you Ike Dodgeland? " Vox joked and Ike couldn't help but let out a sigh then a laugh

" No she's not related to me! " Ike retorted

And from then on, people would make the joke of you being related to Ike whenever you would dodge any flirting from anyone.

A day or two after that collab, Vox dmed you and finally outright saying how he felt about you. Realizing how dense you had been, of course got incredibly flustered and then accepting his feelings and from then on, you became Nijisanji's token couple.

~ Present ~

You just woke up that morning with a horrid head cold, looking at your phone, you realized you had a collab with the Luxiem boys in less than 20 minutes. Mentally cursing yourself, you quickly got up and got ready, getting stream pulled and quickly jumping into the voice chat with the boys,

" I'm so sorry I'm late! I slept in! " You apologized and got situated and ready to start the collab, the boys seemed to notice the lack of energy you had,

" Are you feeling okay Y/N? You don't sound too hot. " Shu was the first to speak up

You hummed and said you just had a cold but it was perfectly fine and it wouldn't stop you from doing the collab. However, the Luxiem boys knew that you had been pushing yourself a little too much the past few months.

Vox had been noticing how tired you had become, feeling you desperately needed a break but every time he suggested it, you brushed it off saying that you were fine and refusing to break your good streak. He would usually assume that you'd been taking care of yourself outside of streaming but when you came into the collab sick, he was incredibly concerned.

" Y/N, it's okay we can postpone the stream. You really should try to get some rest. " Ike chimed in

" I'm okay Ike, don't worry about me. " You replied smiling and setting everything up for stream.

Vox remembered that he lived fairly close to you and he could appear at your door at any given time,

" Y/N, go and take care of yourself or else I'll come over and take care of you. " He said in a stern tone.

Hearing what Vox said, it reminded you that he lived fairly close. And it made you smirk slightly,

" Then come and take care of me Voxxy. " You retorted.

The voices of the other boys rung out and you then heard Vox tell the boys they were going to postpone the collab and of course, the boys understood. Everyone left the call and you sat waiting for Vox to show up which didn't take long. Once he got to your home, he came inside, tucked you into bed, made you soup and told you he was staying with you until you got better and when you tried to protest, he simply said,

" If you don't take care of yourself then I'll take care of you. "

[llamaqueenprompt]

Uneducated Buy

Characters: Mason Mount and Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 533

Inspiration: “You’re not stupid. Just uneducated.”

“Remind me again why I need to stay home?”

“Because, missy,” he said as he settled down on the couch beside her,”you had the brilliant idea to clean the ceiling and hurted your back.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she whined, laying her head on his shoulder.

Mason leaned down, kissing the crown of her head. “How can I make it better?”

“Well, this morning I finished my book. You could get me another one…” Y/n looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

Mason rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead again before getting up and putting his shoes back on. “I have a list on my phone if…”

“Love,” he grabbed her face in between his hands. “I know what to buy you. Don’t worry.” He kissed her lips and left the house before she could say anything else.

Y/n just laid back on the couch, watching her movie. She was sure Mason knew what he was doing. Right?

"Love, I'm home."

"Still on the couch."

Mason smiled as he saw her laying in the same spot he left her. He walked over to her and slowly kissed her on the lips. "Hi," she said with a love-struck smile on her lips.

"Let me go get the bag. So, I didn't know what you wanted to read, so I got you three books."

"Babe…"

"I know, you said one, but let me spoil my girl," he sat down on the couch beside her, still holding the bag. "So, first I picked up a romance because I know that would be a safe choice."

She picked up the book from his hands, analyzed it, smiled at him, and pecked his cheek.

"Then, I know you don't read a lot of horror and fantasy, but you said you wanted to branch out, so I picked one of each."

As he took the books out of the bag, Y/n tried her best not to laugh.

"What?" he looked at her and back at the books, not understanding what she found funny. The books looked good.

Y/n smiled at Mason and picked up the two books that were lying on the coffee table beside the couch. Mason's face went blank as he saw the four books lying on the couch while Y/n just laughed.

"I'm so stupid." he stated analysing the duplicates.

"Oh, babe," she wiped away the tears that had fallen from laughter. "You're not stupid. Just uneducated."

Mason pouted slightly, realizing he had made a mistake in choosing the books. "Oh love," she pushed the books away and got closer to him, "next time you'll get it right," she kissed him gently on the cheek, "but you have to admit, it was slightly funny."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes. "Maybe a little," he wrapped her up closer to him. "But please, next time tell me what books you want."

"How about when I'm better, I'll make you a list of books I want, so you can surprise me?" She stuck out her pinky to him.

"Deal," he crossed their fingers and kissed hers. As they cuddled on the couch, Mason couldn't help but smile.

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 10]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Body Horror, Monsters be destroying shit, Lots of Gore, Fires, Major Character Injury CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.9K

(10/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: HA I FINISHED IT Bi-annual update fr fr

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

Taking heavy breaths, you took your time to steady yourself. Your hands were beginning to cramp from how long you’d been holding your rapier, and your uniform had been singed and torn at the edges. You stood your ground, but barely, and before you the daemons were twice your size, maybe even more, but they were mutated so heavily that you couldn’t even tell what they used to be. If one thing was certain, it was that you’d never seen a monster like them before. The casualty count, although you didn’t know it specifically, was immense. Today, regardless of whether or not you made it out alive, is a huge loss for the Guard. 

“Captain! The S squadron has arrived!” You heard a voice shout. Reinforcements have just arrived at the nick of time, whilst more beasts wandered out of the woods and towards the ravaged town.

“You see the situation, if you find any living civilians they are your first priority to get to safety, we’ve determined the daemons’ weak points to be their underbellies, aim for that area first! The skin is loosest there,” you commanded. “This place is already razed down, I don’t understand why they keep coming,” you mumbled. An axe lodges on the ground next to you, just barely missing your side. “Nixon! Now’s not the time to get lazy!” You pulled the axe with one hand and flung it back towards him, something he easily caught while blocking off the daemon’s claws.

“Thanks, Cap!” You couldn’t respond, too busy dodging the swings from the daemon in front of you. Its movements were slow and heavy, but they hit hard. You could barely get in a good attack with the equipment you had. Turns out, and maybe you should’ve expected this, rapiers aren’t the best for large opponents. 

“Ugh, this is getting nowhere,” you mumbled just as you ducked below the beast’s arms. You jogged back, keeping your eyes on the monster, and you switched out your rapier for the rifle strapped to your back. You aimed quickly, precisely, and with a deep breath you fired. The bullet pierced the daemon’s skin, but, if anything, you just pissed it off more. “Fuck, well, we’re screwed. Is it just me or are these things getting taller?”

“Not just you, Captain! Not just you!” Evangeline scrambles up from the floor, casting a spell to knock away the hoard. The blonde runs next to her Captain, shaking slightly. Instinctively, you took a defensive stance in front of her while reloading your rifle. “Where are they all coming from?” Hints of French laced her panicked tone.

“No clue, but we’re going to be here for a very long time,” you grimaced. “Take deep breaths, Eve, if you can’t handle it we’ll switch to base-tactics,” you said

“There’s just so many of them,” Eve huffs. “Almost like… like they were waiting for us to get here,” she coughs. That struck a cord, you turned to her for a moment, but hearing the monsters roar, you refocused back on the situation, doing your best to push the daemons back. Could all of this have been an elaborate trap? Who was pulling the strings? Now that you had thought about it, it would make sense for this to be a trap. All of the Guard were here, high ranking military officials, Starspire was even a village well known for their exports, getting rid of this area would disrupt many industries. But the village was also far enough for it to still be somewhat controlled. Everything happening here, surely, had to be part of some elaborate plan.

‘Take a deep breath, (Y/N),’ Alex’s words echoed in your head. You looked around the field.

‘Where the hell did you go, asshole?’

‘Calling for backup. I don’t think we’re dealing with the natural world anymore, there must be some sort of magic involved.’ Despite your efforts, you couldn’t find Alex anywhere. ‘Don’t worry, I’m still as much a part of the fray as everyone else. But if my theory is correct then I know someone who could help us.’

‘Call them in, I’ll take anyone at this point, anyone who can get rid of these monsters,’ you replied.

‘Certainly, Captain, remain vigilant.’ Then, his side went silent while you pushed forward. Two magic circles appeared under Eve’s hands as the field became encased in a bright light. Half of the daemons, that had already been hacked away at, fell at the attack, while others trudged on.

“Gah, Eve, warn us before doing that!” Carter rubs his eyes harshly.

“Ay, if it’s getting more than half of these fuckers, hell, do it again, Eve,” Nixon shouts back.

“I’m sorry!” Eve apologizes despite it.

“Are there any more coming in?” You spoke after tapping your earpiece.

“All clear in the North, Captain,” one voice says.

“None coming in from the West either.”

“The East is clear.” You looked forward.

“The South is clear,” you said. “Focus on the remaining daemons, we’ll reconvene once they’ve all been killed,” you flicked the blood off your rapier. “And someone get me an actual sword.”

“Captain,” Carter addressed you curtly while offering his own sword. Regal in all rights, Carter’s sword, much like yours, was a gift from the Royal family. As was every weapon belonging to the Brigade, granted. However, Carter’s was a marvel to look at. A silver broadsword upon first glance, but to its wielder it becomes their greatest protection. You made the trade quickly and just in time, too, for what happened next was something you would have never expected and something you would’ve never wanted to happen.

The sounds of despair and destruction had been drowned out by an all too familiar cry. Cries, when you first ran into the burning village you heard them everywhere. Men, women, and children alike were screaming for help all around you. That was hours ago. To hear shouts that weren’t from your squadron only spelt trouble. You turned your head towards the voice, and saw a sight that was some sick twist of what you’d grown up fearing. Without any care for yourself, granted you had other things to worry about, you sprinted towards the young boy with the silver of the broadsword reflecting the flames. In a delicately crafted move, you felled the already wounded beast. You held your stance, your left arm blocking the one behind you, and your right arm holding the sword parallel to the ground. Then the beast slumped to the burnt earth, making no attempt at any further attacks, but your split decision move wasn’t without consequence. The sharp pain across your front side was enough to tell you that next time you should think more carefully before doing.

“Captain!” Eve was running towards you in seconds, but her actions were a second thought to you. No, you were more concerned about the boy behind you. The boy wearing a ripped uniform, mask half hanging from his face and half tied around his head, and with slight cuts and bruises to his face and hands. True, this was the least of the wounds you’d see him have, but the knowledge that he’d been here long enough to get those was what scared you the most. Once you were certain the beast was dead, you were quick to turn, pull your gloves off, and cradle your hands around Damian’s face.

“How… How did you get here,” you huffed, wavering slightly. You moved his face around to see if there were any bad cuts, and your thumb traced under a fresh, but shallow, one under his eye.

“(Y/N)…” Damian’s eyes widened. His eyes fall to the three large gashes that stretched across your hips and abdomen. “You’re hurt…”

“We don’t have time to worry about that, how did you get here?” You repeated despite the good many number of daemons on the field. You brushed off the sparks on his shoulders and offered to help him up.

“I was looking for you,” Damian took your hand and stood up slowly, you didn’t yet know if it was from shock or if he was hurt.

“Is that the whole story?” People don’t just drop out of the sky. And to enter this universe is something that should be incredibly hard, if not impossible.

“A man in a lab coat brought me here,” his voice was shaken. You didn’t fault him for that, the young boy was just dropped in the middle of a blazing battlefield with heaps of dead bodies sprawled across the ground. It was a sensory overload with the blinding flames and the heavy stench of iron. Not to mention the fact that you were covered in blood, your own, your comrades, and the monsters’ alike. Now wasn’t the time for answers, and you’d be damned if anything happened to Damian here, so, instead you strengthened your grip around his hand.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let go of my hand,” you said firmly, holding your conjoined hands up so he could see, if he didn’t already feel it, the tight hold you had around him. Damian nods, what else could he do in this situation? With your left hand holding Damian and the right brandishing the sword you charged across the battle field. It might be better to carry him at this rate, but then you’d be more susceptible to attacks. Hard to dodge when there’s more weight on your back or on your front. This would be best, if worse comes to worse, you’re sure Damian would forgive you for throwing him to safety. But if he kept lagging behind, then there might be a problem. “Keep up!”

“I’m trying!” Damian barks. It was now you noticed the way he moved his gaze from you to the ground in rapid succession, no doubt trying to keep his steps in align with yours. “If you want to go faster then just let—”

“No, Damian, if I let go of you it would only be seconds before one of those monsters picks you up and kills you, do you understand?” You stopped only for a brief moment before taking off again, seeing one of the daemons take notice of your little brother. “Shit, they’re everywhere,” you said with grit teeth.

“Is that a kid?!” Nixon shouts. He pulls his axe from the broken ground. Damian first noticed the red stains on his white uniform before the disgust directed at him. “Lose him, Cap! He’s slowing you down! He’s going to get us all killed!” You pulled Damian along before he could shout an argument back. One, you just need one building that’s at least a little intact to stash Damian in for the time being.

“Just stay focused, Nixon!” You deflected a piece of charred wood. Damian’s hand slips for a moment and you react with a vice grip. “Don’t let go, Damian!” You shouldn't have been upset, it wasn’t his fault, it was the blood between your hands that made it all the more slippery.

“Sorry!” Damian is taken aback for a moment before regaining his senses. You looked to the woods and watches more of the monsters emerge. Luckily, if there was any in this situation, they seemed to be smaller monsters compared to the daemons. If anything, they were probably scavenger beasts, the lot of them will turn tail and run once they see the daemons, while the braver ones will venture more inward. Though you had to be realistic. A monster is a monster, and that’s an added problem on your plate.

“Oh fuck me…” You shook your head. Then a small ray of light. Sure, the roof was on the verge of caving in, but a house is a house. “Eve!” You turned back for a second to make sure the blonde was still in ear shot and when she notices you running towards the house, she opened a warp portal next to her and slipped in, immediately appearing at the front door to open it, and allowing for you to run into a building and push Damian inside. You knelt to his level, and with a stern expression, instructed him. “Do not leave this building, I’m going to have Evangeline place a protection charm up, alright? I’ll come pick you up once I resolve this mess, then you have to tell me every single thing that happened to you before you came here.” Though you spoke clearly, you knew when words go through one ear and out the other. You’d have to trust Eve to explain the situation to him, but you didn’t know if Damian would trust her.

“I can help.” That’s definitely the last thing you wanted to hear. Typical of Damian, though, he was still young, and he still thinks he can do anything, still thinks that he has to. But not here, and not now. 

“No. You can’t.” You kept your words curt enough for him to not misinterpret them. “This world is very different than our old one. You’re not in Gotham anymore. Those things out there can crush your skull in less than a second, and I don’t need anymore deaths on my mind right now, let alone the death of my little brother. Got it?”

“Yeah…” Damian looks back to your abdomen. It was still bloody but the wound was gone. “What happened to—” That might be the hardest one to explain to him.

“No questions right now. I have to get back out there before any of my teammates die. You can trust Eve, she’s a good friend of mine. Now, please, stay here.” With that, you ran out, slamming the door behind you. Not a moment later, Evangeline ran in, her white and silver uniform singed around the edges. She closes the door and places her hand on it, a magic circle appearing between the two with words of an ancient language inside of it. She waves her hand in the air and the building is surrounded in a veil of blue. She eyes the singed hole in the roof, but pays no mind to it, instead looking to Damian.

“So you must be Damian Wayne, right?” She smiles through the tired breaths. Damian nods and looks out the window. Eve seats him on the ground and hands him a thermos. “The Captain has told me so much about you. I’m Evangeline Chandler, your sister and I are good friends,” Damian suspiciously eyes the thermos, but takes it anyways.

“Yeah?” He unscrews the top, seeing some kind of soup inside of it. Eve takes the thermos from him, placing the cup in his hands and pouring the soup into it.

“Yes! I owe her a great deal. She asked me to give this to you, it’s actually Nixon’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with you,” Eve grins. “You can trust it, Nixon is actually our resident healer. This soup should fix you right up,” she insists. “If you don’t believe me, I can drink it first,” she continues.

“That wouldn’t matter if you’d grown a tolerance to poison,” he gives her a pointed glance.

“Are you saying that the son of a vigilante and an assassin doesn’t have a well built tolerance?” She fires back.

“… touché,” he takes a tested sip of the soup, the immediate taste of a hearty vegetable broth greeting him. He could feel the warmth circle around his face, his chest, and his stomach.

“You don’t have to mind it, Nixon’s vegetarian too,” she chuckles, kneeling down next to him and dusting off her uniform.

“You know a lot about me,” was Damian’s next statement.

“That Captain tells me a lot about you,” she smiles. “Let’s see… you have a dog named Titus, your best friend’s name is Jon, for your tenth birthday you and the Captain went out to an arcade and ended up staying there for hours so you missed your celebration,” she counts the events on her hands, “oh! And how could I forget my favorite story? Whenever you had nightmares, the first place you’d go is to her—”

“I get it, woman,” Damian clears his throat and, again, Eve could only smile.

“And that is exactly how the Captain described you. She doesn’t talk about her family often, but her expression is always so kind when she does, especially when it comes to her siblings. Of course, this is only after a good number of drinks. Goodness, though, once she starts, she won’t stop, it’s a bit cute,” she rests her cheek on her hand. “I’m glad to see that you match her stories.” Damian could only look out the window as the screams got closer.

“What is going on out there?”

“There are quite a few of you correct?” Eve changes the subject and, with the wave of her hand, the voices deemed to dampen out into mumbles. “Two older brothers and two younger brothers, an older sister and two younger ones as well, if what she told me was right.”

“Yeah,” Damian caught on. She’s trying to distract him from the hell outside.

“Let’s see,” her eyes drift up in thought. “Barbara Gordon, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, (Y/N) Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Timothy Drake, and then there’s you,” Eve says.

“That’s all of us, but recently father brought in a new one, Duke Thomas,” Damian explains.

“Ah, yes, the Captain has explained that her father loved to take in children,” Eve crosses her arms. “But, and perhaps I’m biased, I must say that his biological children are just so adorable,” Eve coddles. “Are you still hungry? I always have something on me.” As much as her efforts to divert his attention were somewhat appreciated, she’s wasting her time on him.

“What exactly is your role?” Damian presses. Eve takes a deep breath in before sighing and shaking her head.

“I should’ve known that it would be a lost cause to try to distract you, you’re very much like your sister in that regard, but I’m keen on at least trying to follow orders. Allow me to introduce myself properly then. I’m Evangeline, Evangeline Chandler, and I am from Earth-78, born and raised in Versailles, France. I’m the magic dealer of this team, you can tell because of these silver linings here, see? However, I specialize in support, which is why my uniform is white,” she claps her hands. “Ah, the Captain, your sister, is a damage dealer, she specializes in up-close combat with blade-type weapons. She truly is amazing.”

“I see… I assume this is normal for you.”

“Not in the slightest, no. Oh, well, battle yes, but not these beasts. These monsters just started coming out of nowhere, actually,” Eve scooted away from Damian slightly and, with a few waves of her hand, an image constructed of light appeared between them, “come take a look. These are the variants we’ve been fighting for quite some time,” she invites him to move the image around. The base animal was a kind of wolf, that much was certain, but the creature had mutated the ability to support itself on its hind legs whilst also gaining articulate hands. It was as if it was some gruesome mix of human and wolf, a terror of nature, and a horror of nightmares.

“What are those?” Was all Damian could say.

“In truth… We have no idea.”

~

Alex stumbled behind a building, holding his phone close to his ear.

“Come on… connect, connect…” he plead. Finally, an answer.

“Alexander.”

“Remember when I told you to come tomorrow? Scratch that. We need you now.”

“What in the blazes is going on? Why do I hear fire?”

“Get over here and I’ll still be alive to tell you.”

“You really don’t take no for an answer, alright, hold out for a few more minutes.”

“Will do. I’ll take care of the stragglers, everyone else move inward!” Alex hangs up the phone, waits until everyone was out of earshot, and pivots on his heel, both hands flying out and several magic circles appearing in the ground in front of him. “Sanguis voragine.” In the slight wave of his hands, the circles began to rotate in on themselves before ultimately converging into a larger one. Spilled puddles and splatters of blood began to move in toward the centers of the circle.

‘Alex, don’t do anything you can’t handle,’ your voice had a warning tone.

‘No need to worry, I'd been saving my stamina for this moment,’ he reassures you before walking into the middle of the vortex. 

You, meanwhile, glanced behind you at the fortified safe house. You’d instructed Eve to keep your brother busy, but you didn’t know how long he’d sit still. You’d have to wrap this up quickly now, somehow, at least.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath yourself, steadying the sword in front of you such that you were facing the blade. “Infallible guard,” a magic circle surrounded the sword and, in moments, a clear barrier surrounded you.

‘Perhaps I should’ve said that to you.’

‘See you on the other side.’ You readied your blade for what you hoped to be the final time that night, and charged forth.

~

Eve looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Eyes wide and jaw tensed.

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked quietly, a now empty thermos in his hands. Eve, wordlessly, stumbled to the window and peered outside.

“They’re using artifacts,” she mumbles, she looks back at Damian. Your orders conflicted with her morals.

“What are those? Something bad?”

“Call it a last resort. It should be fine since it’s (Y/N) and Alex but…” her scarred fingertips rose to her mouth habitually and, before she could begin to lightly bite down on them, she answered, “they take a lot of stamina to use, some that I doubt those two still have,” she mutters. She takes a seat with Damian once more.

“Then leave me here, I can fend for myself well enough,” Damian insists.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, young sir,” she replies. “Even if I wanted to, the Captain benched me,” she shakes her head. “I’m unfit for battle at this moment,” she stretches her hands out, the cuts and tears on them, fresh and weeping, were enough to tell Damian all he needed to know. “What good’s an archmage with anxiety?” She laughs pathetically. “Plus, I do enjoy talking with you,” she nudges him softly. “You must be so confused, aren’t you? Scared, maybe, but too stubborn to admit it. I don’t blame you, we all were like that before as well,” Eve clasps her hands together. “You know, I had a brother around your age as well, Felix, I haven’t seen him in so long, he’s back home where he belongs though,” she rests her cheek on her hand.

Curse his sister, it wasn’t Eve on babysitter duty, it was him also.

Damian couldn’t help but glance out the window again, the flames had begun to die down, he could tell from the way the room slowly darkened.

“Your family must be worried,” Eve tries to strike a conversation yet again.

“They don’t care.”

“Or so you think,” she shoots back. Then, when someone bangs on the door, both people stood up in guarded stances. “Being unfit for battle means nothing in war,” she sighs. She picks up her gloves from their spot on the rugged table. Despite the state of herself and her uniform, the gloves were pristine. She slips them on.

“Could be one of your teammates.” The door started to strain against its hinges.

“They would’ve been able to open the door,” a magic circle appears in her palm, “your sister told me to keep you safe at all costs, please respect her wishes.”

“If she’s really my sister then she knows I won’t,” Damian stood next to her, ready.

“She told me that you’d say that too,” the door bursts down, one of the few remaining beasts stood tall at the doorframe. “Divina vocatio,” she chants. Veils of light surround the both of them. “Have faith, Damian, that I will keep you safe,” she says. The beast roars in a way neither of them had heard before. The magic circles in either of Eve’s palms begin to rotate counter to each other as she crosses her wrists in front of her. As soon as she broke the formation, multiple circles appeared in a cross pattern over the beast’s chest, effectively pushing the beast back, but not doing much to detain it, rather, it charged despite it.

What could he do in this situation? Think, Damian. He scanned the shack for anything he could use. The image that Eve showed him, something stood out to him, but he couldn’t quite put where he’d seen it from. Then, kicked under the bed, something gleamed against the dying flames. He dove toward it, holding it up and the beast stopped. Eve chanced a glance back.

“Crucifix…” she holds her hand out and Damian tosses it toward her. “Made of silver,” she weighs it in her palm. The beast takes a step back. It could only work as a repellant, but as a weapon it was hard pressed. Damian looked around again, something made of silver, anything. The cross in Eve’s hand was a likely choice, but he’d rather not chance the karma. Surely there’d be something else?

Well, fuck it. He ran toward Eve, hand outstretched to grab the one silver item in his sight. Then, blood, lots of it. He and Eve turned to the beast, who’d been cut clean in half. Its torso slid to the ground in front of them, while its legs fell backward. Nixon stood at the door, if anyone had never seen him before, they’d think his uniform to be naturally red. Without a word, he falls back, completely passed out.

“This fool,” Eve clicks her tongue. “Help me pull him in here, would you?” She asks.

“Sure,” they both grab one leg each and pull him in, Eve slamming the door shut and placing another charm on it.

“His axe is made of silver,” she says. “And his artifact is an imperial one of strength,” she explains it well enough but Damian still stared blankly at her. “Meaning he’ll be out for a while,” she shakes her head.

~

“Where’s that help you were talking about, Alex?” You shout, stumbling backward and just barely keeping your balance.

“On his way… hopefully,” Alex bumps into you, the magic circle under him flickering weakly.

“After all the damage has been done,” Carter backs against the two of you.

“Well… the good news is that there’s one left,” you handed the sword back to Carter and held your rifle instead.

“And the bad news is that it’s the biggest one,” Carter sighs. You spot your rapier sticking out of it’s shoulder blade.

“Well… your effort is appreciated, Carter,” you nudged him and Carter stumbled further from you. “We’ll need a miracle.” The beast groaned.

“We are called the miraculous trio,” Alex takes a step back, distancing himself from the beast to ready an attack. “Let’s live up to that title,” Alex bends down slowly, tapping the blood puddle beneath him.

“You think we’ll get a raise?” Carter asks.

“Nah,” you aimed your rifle. “Dead Shot,” you said under your breath. A magic circle appeared on the daemon’s body. “There,” you pulled the trigger and Alex focused a ring of magic circles on it. “Carter!” Carter slid in front of you and launched the sword forth, the tip barreling toward the beast before the sword impaled it. The beast staggered back, but it did not fall. Instead, it looked to you, directly at you, in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“W… W… Wayne,” the beast growled out. You held your hand up, stopping Alex from dealing the last hit. “I… know… you,” it fell forward, but still it’s gaze never wavered. “Do… know… me…?” It asked. You took a step forward.

“Hey,” Carter spoke up.

“It’s fine,” you reloaded your rifle. Soon, you were an arm’s length away from the beast. You spotted a hint of silver on it’s neck and, as if it were calling you, you pulled it out of it’s loose and tattered skin. It was an ID tag, one that every Knight received, hell, yours was around your neck right now. The name was almost entirely worn through, but you could still just barely read it.

Then… realization. You staggered back, suddenly feeling weak in every limb.

“Captain?” Carter’s voice behind you again.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. You looked around the battlefield, corpses of knights and beasts all around, and then to the one in front of you. You fell onto your knees and you placed your hand on the beast’s head. “You served well, Major Syke,” you said the name on the ID.

“Thank you,” the beast breathed it’s last before stilling. The field was quiet, quiet except for the sound of you pulling your rapier out of the Major’s shoulder. You turned your earpiece on and waited for it to connect.

“The field is clear, report the total number of casualties and damages to me whenever you can, we will regroup in the North delta base,” you turned the comm off and turned around to Carter and Alexander. “Don’t tell anyone this,” you whispered, “but… we’ve been killing people.”

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