#and yes he does go for violence he's a pirate

[portraitofadyke]

this show is literally about growing up in a cycle of abuse and toxic masculinity, having someone breathing down your neck and constantly pushing you back into it even if you want to break it. it's about getting that need to break it and do better, even if you think it's too late. it's about recognising your own wrongdoings and being reborn.

but according to some part of the fandom, it's about ed being an abuser just like his father and ed being destined to be abusive to stede, meanwhile izzy is a victim. the same man who shot down every chance at breaking away sooner.

nobody is saying ed is flawless. nobody is saying ed didn't do terrible things. nobody is saying izzy deserved to get his leg amputated. it's one thing to say 'in his spiral, ed ended up hurting a lot of people and causing them trauma and dragged them down with him in his suicie mission' and another to say 'ed is a canon abuser who abused izzy and the ed fans don't think izzy can be a victim bc he's portrayed as tough. oh, and he will absolutely abuse stede.'

this dynamic is not played by the book. how hard is it for some people to grasp some more complicated forms of abuse? how hard is it to recognise emotional abuse? how hard is it to comprehend the power another person can have over someone who is perceived as invincible? piracy is a constant cycle of violence, and ed wanted an out. now he has it, with someone who's very much the opposite of everything he was told to be. Izzy breathed down his back and tried to knock him back into the perfect Blackbeard he wanted, going as far as killing his significant other, and he got the worst of it, and he got to grow. they were both dependent on blackbeard, and they let him go. it wasn't too late, izzy got to be just izzy, despite being the breathing walking epitome of piracy. that's it, that's the show. it tells us you're not your past trauma and even if you fucking lose yourself, because life is a dick and you probably will lose it, you can get back up, it's never too late

(source https://blakbonnet.tumblr.com, i'm not sure if it's loading in the gif)

[lilacs-stars]

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt. 

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it. 

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side. 

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more. 

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him. 

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers. 

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions. 

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate. 

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either. 

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you. 

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions. 

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath. 

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out. 

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve. 

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face. 

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor. 

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides. 

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him. 

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze. 

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back. 

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face. 

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm. 

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising. 

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there. 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems. 

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours. 

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan. 

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you. 

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it. 

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself. 

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right. 

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him. 

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run. 

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James. 

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. 

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response. 

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. 

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall. 

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal. 

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm. 

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight. 

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on. 

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide. 

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him. 

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “I heard of how he harassed you in your class earlier. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @maggiecc

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do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[grandlinedreams]

omg omg omg your fics are so adorable😭😭😭 if you don’t mind could do you an angsty hurt/comfort law x reader story about how the reader gets captured by marines and gets tortured, and the heart pirates have to rescue them and get them back to health ??

have a good day or night!!💗💗💗

Hdhdh thank-you, I try!! But absolutely i can!! I hope that this is to your liking!!

[Heads up!: mentions of canon typical violence, injuries, established relationship, hurt/comfort]

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Law looks up, jaw clenched as he prods gloved fingers against the dark cluster of bruising on your side. You bite back a hiss as he does so, exhaling when he lets up.

"They cracked at least two of your ribs." His tone is flat, and you can tell that he's upset ㅡ with you or the marines, however, you're not entirely sure. "From what I've been able to assess so far, that's also in addition to your arm, which is broken. Two of your fingers needed reset, not to mention the likelyhood of a concussionㅡ"

"Okay," you interrupt, "maybe it is as bad as it looks."

Law's eyes narrow. "That's understatement." You watch as he turns to grab a pair of tweezers, soaking a cottonball into antiseptic before he brings it up to dab at the puffy cut on your cheek. "You could have died."

You bite back another hiss, closing your eyes at the pain that lances from your bruised (and cracked) ribs. "But I didn't."

"You got lucky." Law's tone is icy as he dabs at the split in your lip. You watch as he turns to begin cleaning up the supplies he's used.

"Next timeㅡ"

Law almost slams the bandage case shut and turns to you, expression that of quiet fury, golden eyes blazing. "Next time? The next time you're dumb enough to get caught, they'll kill you. There will be no next time, [Name]."

You meet his gaze. "I'd rather die than betray this crew, Law. You know that."

Law is silent as he finishes up cleaning things and packing them away before he gets to his feet and moves towards the door. He pauses there, shoulders slumping with his slow exhale. "I know," he answers at last, "and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

ㅡ

"I never did get to thank you two for rescuing me," you say as you study the cards before you, peering up at Penguin and Shachi.

Penguin smiles. "It was no problem. Kind of cool to get to sneak into a marine base. Like a spy."

"We couldn't have done it without captain," Shachi adds before he pauses. "Speaking of, did captain give you the okay to be wandering around again?"

Your lips part.

"No," comes the clipped response from behind you, making you freeze before you tip your head back to find Law staring at you. "I didn't."

"Iㅡ"

"Room." Tattooed fingers grip your shoulder. "Shambles."

Your stomach spins as scenery abruptly shifts, and you huff as Law appears a moment after you. "Using your devil fruit on me? Really?"

"Yes," Law answers, frustration clear in both his tone and expression. "Because you apparently can't follow orders. I told you bedrest and minimal movement."

"They're going to suspect something if they figure out you used it to drop me in your room."

He shrugs, arms folded across his chest. "Let them."

You groan. "Law, I'm going to insane. Let me do something."

"I'll tell you what you can do," Law starts, watches your expression light up. "You can do as I tell you and quit being a brat."

You stare, expression going deadpan. "There's no fun in that."

Law scowls before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "...just do this for me," he says, tone softer. "Please."

You stare and then huff as you move towards is bed, yanking the covers back to slip beneath them. Mindful not to jostle your arm or your bruised side, you turn to look at Law. "Happy?"

"Thrilled," comes the amused answer when you sulk, and he approaches to crouch beside the bed. "Quit pouting, you're an adult."

"But this is boring."

"Try to sleep. Rest is going to help you more than anything." Placing his hand over your eyes, Law can feel the brush of your eyelashes.

"Trying to smother me isn't going to help either."

Law's eyes flick skyward for a moment as he sighs. "I'm hardly smothering you. Although it's an idea, given that you'd be unconscious."

You reach up, pulling his hand down enough you can stare. "You wouldn't dare." He raises an eyebrow, and your eyes narrow. "Law."

"Then go to sleep." He counters crisply. "Or what can I offer you that will get you to stay put so I can work and not have to hunt you down?"

You hum, expression thoughtful before your eyes lock with his. "Kiss me." When he gives you a flat look, you grin. "You heard me, if you give me a kiss I'llㅡ"

Law's lips are against yours, familiar pressure that makes your eyes slide shut as you press back, good hand coming up to rest against the back of his cap. And then he's pulling away, ignoring your whine of protest. "Go to sleep."

"But I wantㅡ"

"Sleep," Law emphasizes. "We made a deal."

He pulls away completely, and you scowl before turning away with a huff. "Fine. Since you won't give me another kiss."

Scoffing, Law reaches to tug at the brim of his hat, hoping you don't notice the faint flush to his cheeks. "And I told you to stop being a brat."

Crossing the room, Law seats himself at his desk and flips open one of the various books he'd been taking notes from earlier. He doesn't know how long he reads for but when he looks up again, you're finally asleep.

[adickaboutspoons]

So there's several posts going around lately that seem to be dancing around the same proposition - that being that Ed is violence-averse altogether, rather than specifically killing-averse. While it's important to always keep the fact that Ed is no more violent than any other character on the show (and a good deal less violent than some), and that his use of violence is extremely considered and not the result of uncontrolled rages, denying that he would, has, and does commit acts of violence, and willingly, and sometimes even enjoys it, is just demonstrably wrong and elides a significant part of his character. When Ed is discussing "packing it all in" with Stede in 1x4, the reasons he give have nothing to do with being weary of or uncomfortable with the expectation of violence demanded by his position as a pirate, but because he's bored because "it's not a challenge anymore" because people don't fight back once they see Blackbeard's flag. He "loves a good maim." He genuinely has a blast with Jack and all his Jackassery. He gleefully spoke about mugging a guy for a dinghy. He thought the Knife Parade was a fun game until Fang told him his experience was not universal. He hands over a big fuck-off knife with the treasure he gives to the urchins, so clearly doesn't have a problem with using violence to defend what's yours. When he says to Stede "I'm not sure I want to go back to the old days of getting drunk all day and biting heads off turtles and making some poor bloke eat his toes for a laugh" that's not the same thing as saying he's forsaking his piratically violent ways and doesn't want to use violence ever again. The specific mention of all-day drunkenness and turtles calls back to the kind of shenanigans he got up to while Jack was around - and thus is a rejection of that kind of mindless violence for violence's sake; a prospect we had already witnessed him expressing discomfort with when Jack brought up what a wild man Ed used to be at brekkie. After all, part of the "most fun [he's] had in ages, years... maybe ever" has involved showing Stede how to "use a little oomph" and flirtatiously swordfight (both moments included in Stede's "what does it feel like to fall in love" mental montage) - violence as a means to procure a desired outcome, and with as little actual bloodshed or permanent injury as possible, but by no means not none. The show is so careful to never condemn the use of violence wholesale - like, at no point is the message a facile "violence is never the answer". It condemns certain types of violence, usually specifically those enacted large-scale by oppressive, colonialist social structures, but also cruelty for cruelty's sake. Outside of that, though, violence is a tool, and thus is only as "good" or "useful" as the task to which it is being applied. Ed is a master craftsman - he will use the tools at his disposal deftly, and, yes sometimes take joy or pride in his work. And that's not a bad thing, nor does it make him a bad person.

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 1) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: eventual smut (minors dni!), trigun!au action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, death, gore, guns, injuries, destruction, mentions of knives, weapons, violence, creepy monsters and creatures, ptsd, moral ambiguities, dark topics tbh, smoking, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, platonic (but not really) nakedness, reader is operating on a short fuse bc I believe u have to be built different for this universe, their communication is abt to be as poor as the plant life 💀 Seungcheol kinda his own warning imho, biggest apology to chan, and we all love seok sm bc he sings abt total slaughter 🙇🏻‍♀️ WC: 19.5k of 32.7k | Part 2 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I feel like the boys may seem ooc but I had a lot of fun putting this together 😌 Thank you Summer and Isa for hosting this collab and your utmost patience in me finally writing my piece! I hope everyone enjoys this and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!!

Everyone wanted Lee Seokmin. 

The cities' great militaries. Bounty hunters. Bandits on the roads. Criminals escaping death row. Prowling pirate gangs. His twin brother. You. 

Though you reckoned your "want" for him was a bit… different from others. Well, at least you hope so, goddamn it. 

You shiver. 

At first, you wanted him just like the mass majority would one day as well — dead. The deed swiftly carried out with a silver pistol aimed at his temple.

Besides, your blood-thirst began before the destruction of July. Unlike most, who angrily shake their fists at the gaping crater on the fifth moon in the spirit of pure vengeance. Yes, the tragic incident of the great city that upped the bounty dangling over his head like a noose to a sixty billion double dollars reward. But Little Ivywood was the first of many places that would end up reduced to ruins after Lee Seokmin set foot there.

Wiped off the map. Wiped from history. Wiped from existence. But never forgotten. Especially not by the small town's only known survivor — you.

Your earliest memories contain little about the events that led up to being left on the doorstep of Little Ivywood's unofficial orphanage. How could they when you were just a baby? One swaddled in a ratty cloth weighted down by a rusted pistol. There was just one simple hint to your past — scribbled nearly illegible on a torn piece of paper dotted with blood — and could only be what the nuns had to assume was your name.

At least that's how Sister Meryl relayed the tale whenever asked, her hands clasped tightly together in praise and gratitude to the Saint that delivered you to them unharmed. The irony, considering Sister Lucia always looks like she'll faint just like the day she opened the convent's side door. It wasn't an easy sight to see or recall, the image of a wailing infant mouthing on the empty muzzle of a gun.

Neither versions of your origin story could be that far off thanks to the scar marring your left hand and the gun held tightly in your right. You've had both for as long as you can remember. And as you grew and changed, so did they.

The scar shrunk and faded through the years, seemingly forgotten amongst a myriad of other markings littered across your skin. Over time, the pistol's rusted parts were repaired or replaced and soon, its shine and character returned. Restored to its former glory while forging a new beginning ahead with a different owner.

But there were two things that stayed constant throughout your years at the orphanage. The first was your birth name. Not even the nuns, who generally loved bestowing scriptural monikers as if they were granting rich titles to unnamed orphans, tried to change yours. The second was a person who you still refuse to call by his baptismal name — Chan.

He helped you, became an assistant of sorts. Originally just some snot-nosed, beanpole of a fellow orphan you didn't really pay much attention to. A scared kid who cried way too loudly even after you'd even taken the time to demonstrate that the gun was safe after he'd been the one continuously pestering to see it. Very much to Sister Constance's chagrin, since it all went down in the middle of confessional time.

But curiosity eventually overturned the initial fear.

Lucky, because by acquiring bravery, Chan could discover his innate talent for gunsmithing. Lanky, noodle arms transformed into well-formed, sinewy muscles. The soft baby skin of his hands roughened with callouses as he whittled away near the convent's underground furnace. He'd spend hours down there, returning with sweat, grime, and charcoal smudged all over his skin after melting together the random metal objects found by digging beneath the basement's unfinished floor.

The Sisters disliked dirt and grime all over the children and tracked through the doors. But it was hard to keep clean out in the middle of a sandy desert. Complaints dwindled thanks to the fellow orphans who would stop their mischief to watch Chan work. And as time passed, his shoulders broadened further, his voice began to deepen, his dark hair grew longer, and those brown eyes started to sparkle with something different from simple, fleeting passion — it was a dream.

The excitable boy would tell you all about it under the stars. Late into the nights when you searched for what had to be remnants of Earthen materials from the Big Fall, he'd chatter on and on.

"Once we're actual adults," — free from the guardianship requirement provided from the orphanage — "we're gonna leave Lil Ivywood behind and explore the great wastelands of Gunsmoke!"

You snort at the ridiculousness of such an idea. "And how do you think we'll survive?"

"Easy-peasy, I'm gonna build a bunch of guns and we're gonna end up so rich. And famous!"

"Yeah, sure. Throw a couple double dollars at the worms, I'm sure they'll let us pass with no problem."

Not one to be deterred by your eternal sarcasm, Chan shakes his head."Nah, that's where you come in. Didn't think I'd let you freeload, right?"

He stands and stretches both of his arms straight out, the ones your roommate had started to gush over. Hands clasped together like Sister Meryl's always do before prayer time and then extending both pointer fingers into a mock handgun, out into the distant sand dunes one rarely dares to stray.

"You gotta be a sharpshooter to not let my hard work go to waste!"

You lazily take aim next to him, handling the freshly restored pistol with uncharacteristic gentleness. While it might officially be yours, it's also Chan's baby.

"Mm-hm, me and my killer skills."

And then you both dissolve into laughter.

It was such a pipe dream and yet; it didn't seem utterly impossible. There were little moments you let yourself imagine it, too — just until the suns peep their heads above the horizon. There was no way you could defend yourself — let alone another person — from the dangers of the desert or it would've been something you'd attempted years ago.

But when Chan spoke of his plans under the glow of the orbiting full moons, confidently mapping an adventure through an area he's never been to or seen before, and dreamed — he easily pulled you under his spell too. It was contagious, exciting, addicting, and most of all — it could really be… possible.

An armory of grade-A weapons. The bank account overflowing with double dollars. Endless boxes of bullets and the refined skills to shoot them; you were the force to be reckoned with and a protector of those who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Do you think… we could really succeed?" you ask one night, running a finger along the familiar engravings on your gun's grip panel.

Chan's grin was as shiny as the circular metal shell he was carving into. You refuse to look his way because of how infectious it could be. Plus, the main reason it was so stinking bright was due to this being the first time you verbally entertained his ideas.

"Oh-ho-ho, doubt my capabilities?"

"Obviously."

If offended — he was not — by the instant agreement, there was no sign of it. Instead, he focused back onto his handicraft, knowing you would eventually spill your true thoughts if he was patient.

There was no rush tonight after all. A star-filled expanse of black blanketed across the sky — one he hoped would never change to blue.

"More like… it's just going to be so risky!"

"And that's why you'll be the —"

"But I've never even held a gun before!" You spot Chan pointedly direct the corner of his gaze to where your hands rest, causing you to flinch them away from the weapon and wave around haphazardly as your cheeks heat. "I mean, like, to shoot! Sister Lucia always says it'd be too dangerous."

"Sister Lucia thinks water that doesn't flow directly out of the holy grail is dangerous."

"Technically, that's true."

"Oh god, she's got you thinkin' the same, too!"

"But she'd probably rather swear by the Saint than ever let me get any bullets…" The thought alone of the devout nun saying the Savior's name in vain makes both of you smirk but yours falls just as quick as it came. "And we're going to need those if we ever want to leave Little Ivywood."

"Well —"

"And I… I'd have to kill things! People, too. I don't know if I can do that, I —"

" — Think fast!"

It's his turn to interrupt, chipper voice ever optimistic as he tosses the finished trinket your way. Thankfully, your reflexes work fast enough to catch it nimbly in time. The oval is hot to the touch after hovering over searing flames and despite its small size, weighs down your right palm as you glance over its etchings.

Satisfied, Chan takes that as his cue to walk toward the nook that shields you from the roaring heat of the furnace. Squatting down so he's eye-level with your knees, he brushes back his tangled mess of hair with one hand and taps knowingly at the barrel of the pistol with the other.

"There's no reason to kill anyone or anything."

"But this can hurt people… I could hurt people."

"You've had this ever since you were a baby and never harmed anyone with it."

"It's… it's never been loaded or…"

"Doesn't need to be. If you smacked someone with it, they'd surely feel that hit." He snickers, tone bordering on the edge of cockiness. "I would know, considering the sturdy and valuable materials used for repairs."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Show-off," but it lacks true malice behind it.

"And even so," Chan takes one of his hands and pats the back of your free one, unintentionally right over the spot where your scar lies. "You've hurt no one before. Not even me, who annoys you the most!"

"About time you finally realized how merciful I am."

He says your name in earnest, remaining uncharacteristically serious and lays your intertwined hands on top of the gun before squeezing tightly. "Both this and you don't have to kill a single thing or person — ever — if that's not what you want to do. You can aim for non-vital points, shoot up in the air… Bullets or no bullets, just the sight of a weapon alone can be enough of a deterrent for most."

Chewing hesitantly on your lower lip, you let his words sink in and he continues.

"The fact you're aware of the hundreds of risks when handling a weapon like this means you'll be even more cautious when using it. I trust you, so trust in yourself."

Warmth spreads from your interlocked hands and through your entire body like you're wrapped in another one of his sweet hugs, culminating into tears threatening to spill past your lash line. Chan believed in you and though you'd never admit it aloud, it meant the world to you.

"When did you grow up so much?" you tease, letting out an exhale you didn't realize was being held.

"Aw, c'mon! I've been taller than you for months now!"

"Keep dreamin' if it makes you feel better."

Though Chan sasses back by sticking his tongue out, he lets you ruffle his sweaty bangs despite receiving a slightly bruised forehead in return because you forget about the new gift in your hand. Plotting an escape, he stands and pulls you up with him, joined by your clasped hands.

"We should probably head back. Sister Constance's likely gonna ask us to check the Plant before morning mass and you don't want her to catch you dozing off again."

"Last I recall, you were the one she caught napping!"

"But you have the most demerits this week."

"And whose fault is that?!"

Quick as lightning, he nudges you with enough strength to catch you off guard and destabilize your balance. Then he tears away, calling over his shoulder, "Snooze and ya lose!"

"Ugh, this is exactly why — you never play fair!"

Regathering your bearings at record speed, you dash right after Chan. The boy's raucous laughter echoes in your own lungs and you swear the stars twinkle brighter in the nighttime sky. You overtake him right before reaching the convent's door — the same one you were left on — and clutch at his arm before he can reach past to open it.

"Hey… thanks."

He grins all goofy. Chan's well aware you mean much more than that, but he opts to flick your forehead rather than give you grief over it. "Yeah, yeah. I do so much for you, you know?"

"Mm-hm."

"So it's about time to finally pick a name I can carve onto that bad boy. If you don't, I'll put mine there." He nods to your gun excitedly, then points to the oval. "Oh, and I'll make a chain for that soon. Did you decide what you'll put inside?"

"Questions, questions, demands, demands." You wave him off and open the door with a yawn. "I'll think of one. And yeah, you know that Earthen gadget we found? Gonna cut out those papers and put them in there before sleeping."

Once while digging for materials, you had stumbled across a square object that wasn't completely destroyed, unlike many others. After a few experiments of messing with the random knobs and buttons, you determined it could mimic whatever was directly in front of the clear coated lenses. And later — much to your amusement and amazement — it printed out the image on thick, shiny squares.

Fascinating little things those Earthlings created!

You'd luckily put the last few sheets left in the machine to good use. Experimenting with the surrounding scenery that blurrily featured some of Ivywood's buildings, then one of Chan, and finally wrangled a frame that captured both of you together.

"Do you think you'll be able to stabilize it?"

Your tentative question makes him look toward the large, bulbous structure that houses the Plant. The power source Little Ivywood depended upon.

He sports a cheery grin. "Won't know 'til I've tried!"

"Ever considered too much confidence might be a bad thing?"

"If you're jealous, just say so. But with you by my side, there's nothing we can't accomplish together!" He bounces excitedly on his heels. "Besides, I forgot to mention…" Beckoning you with a hand to come closer, you lean in, curious. "I've become quite the master at bargaining. There won't be a single worm who'll refuse a double dollar from the great Chan!"

"What did you do?"

"What haven't I done?"

"You're the worst. Like to ever exist."

"The absolute best, you mean 'cause there'll be no reason for you to waste any bullets or fear cutting a single lifespan short!"

"Goodnight, Chan."

"You mean 'thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Chan!' but whatever! You can make it up to me tomorrow!"

But tomorrow never came.

Or rather — daybreak arrived in the unrecognizable form of rapid gunfire and screams of terror. The buildings rattled, trembled, and shook from the onslaught just like the people cowering in fear within them.

The dust stirred up in the chapel's hall after a wall unexpectedly collapsed causes you to cough. Amidst the chaos and panic, you spare a glance over your shoulder to see Sister Meryl, who strides confidently to the altar.

She stands with poise and purpose in front of the marbled stone. Steadfast and unwavering in strength because of her faith alone, even as the grand statue of the Saint starts crumbling down with the ceiling tiles falling around it.

It's a visual you're not likely to forget, carved deep into your memory before you flee with the rest. Sister Lucia is flustered as usual, ushering everyone as fast as she can near the grand oak doors that lead out to where additional shouting can be heard and only more pandemonium must await outside.

You're struck with the damning realization.

The gods — they have completely abandoned humankind.

"That would be ten demerits any other day," Sister Constance voice abruptly snaps, "fortunately for you, now is not the time for such things."

It's astonishing how even at this moment, the nun remains on high alert for 'troublemakers'. Her sharp-nailed fingers latch around your wrist as she breezes by — much too similar to when you've been dragged off to detention. And as if that's what's happening, your heels plant firmly in the ground and obstinately tug her back a step.

"What about Sister Meryl? We can't just leave!"

"If you knew what was good for you, you'll obediently obey me. But if you knew that, you'd recognize faithfulness will guide her and the rest of us to safety."

"Nothing guarantees —"

"Those who do not devote themselves truthfully will never understand. Should the Saint deem Sister Meryl's sacrifice to be in vain, then she has failed not only the Holy Bishop and our sacred bonds, but you — one she unnecessarily dotes on — as well."

You want to argue and protest as Sister Constance yanks you forward. But the faint tremors you feel despite the tight grip of her hand and the tensed jawline of the woman whose stoic face is normally unbreakable makes you pause.

She's shaken. She's unsure. She's wavering.

Sister Constance doubts.

And something about that thrills you. Terrifyingly so.

The shock of it all is as startling as the pale sunlight blinding your eyes when the chapel's heavy doors finally get thrown open. Grains of sand swirl through Little Ivywood, diluting the usual brightness of the glowing orbs in the sky and their powerful rays.

A sandstorm brews on the horizon.

That's the least of your worries, though. Blood stains the soil where shrapnel grazed tender flesh. Fellow orphans scream and cry out from their wounds as they struggle to get away from the captors attempting to drag them to the center of town.

With a chill, you alarmingly realize who they're trying to escape from. Women in black and white robes don a wild, crazed look on their faces. The ones who have raised and cared for parentless children throughout many years and tended to every need they could within their means.

The Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood.

Sister Constance turns and you jump. Both at the horrors of the present and a reminder of how many times a quick movement of hers led to the sharp pain of a switch or ruler tearing into skin. An eerie sound of laughter rings out and your blood runs cold, eyes darting left and right for the source.

And then through the dust particles, looms the sinister silhouette of a figure in a long trench coat flapping in the wind. Spiked hair sticks straight up, retaining its menacing style despite the powerful wind gusts and emphasizing an already impressive height. You gulp, swearing there's a flash of metal followed by a fanged smirk that glints dangerously as Sister Constance tugs you closer to the terrifying shadow beast shrouded by sand swirling in the air.

A declaration of your given name — stern and cold. "Know that your purpose is being fulfilled, that you are serving the great —"

And then comes a shout of your name, this time from someone desperate and panicked. You're yanked forward and then suddenly catapulted backward, grunting at the impact of your body slamming against someone else's.

"You need to go! You need to get out of here!"

"Chan?!"

He clings to you, shifting so his back is to the nun only a few paces past the corner he dashed around for safety and to stall for time. Throwing a cautious look over his shoulder before whispering urgently, "Go! And don't look back!"

"What about you?"

"Don't mind me." The smooth leather of a satchel presses against your palm. "Get movin'!"

"But —"

"Seriously," the boy shoves you forward with a not-so-gentle push. You gape at the audacity and he waves his hand, like he's shooing away a pesky flying worm. Rude. "Please! I'll be right behind you but —"

An eruption of nearby gunfire and a series of high-pitched shing!-like noises interrupt him. He glances again over his shoulder. You cautiously step forward and his head whips back to let out a hiss.

"Chan, what's —"

"Need to grab a few more things, see if any other idiots need help. Just… just get out of town, wait for me by the rocks if it'll make you feel better." He smiles, though it doesn't make those brown eyes of his sparkle like usual. "It'll… it'll all be okay."

You're uncertain and scared. But something about Chan's speaking powers have always made you believe in the impossible. So, you nod resolutely while taking the bag from him and warn, "Promise you'll be safe."

"You hate those kinds of things."

It's true. To you, promises were only made to be broken. And yet…

"… And somehow you've changed my mind before."

The bangs of carnage draw closer. Louder.

"Fine, just go. Please! And don't look back!"

Acquiescing to his pleas, you sprint toward where he pointed. Sitting like giant sentinels lays an outcrop of boulders bordering the western edge of Little Ivywood. The desert is only two paces away, expanding outward into a desolate plain filled with the undulating slopes of dunes. Picking a sizable rock to hide behind, you keep watch for Chan, cringing at the distant sound of gunshots still rapidly being fired.

What was that? What did you see? And what did you almost get dragged into?

What was going on?

Boom!

It's an ear-shattering noise that causes even the great stones around you to tremble from the explosion. A flare of light so bright leaves you no choice but to look away to protect your eyes, ducking behind the rocks as a shield.

When you recover after it dissipates to see what just happened — Little Ivywood is no more.

It's gone.

"No…"

The tiny town reduced to only rubble and ash. What once were rows of square buildings stacked on top of each other to divert the view of a relatively flat lay of the land are now parallel to its surroundings.

"No… no… no…"

Gone.

You don't think twice about running toward the wreckage. Chan is there. Chan has to be there!

"No!"

And most importantly, he has to be alright.

Broken piles of the shoddy architecture littering the landscape prevents you from traversing too far. Bile rises in your throat as you desperately scan for a sign — any sign — for Chan. For survivors. For anyone. Even the air is still, no longer rippling with irritable heat waves and heavy gusts of wind because the blast was strong enough to ward off nature itself and the incoming sandstorm.

For now.

And during the futile search, that's when you spot him. On his knees with his back to you, slouched over in the only clear space amidst the destruction. The tattered fabric of a cerise garment hangs off the man's broad shoulders and pools around his body like a puddle of blood. Reddish-brown bangs tinged with black hang limply as his chin curls further and further into his chest.

I don't understand, you vent to yourself after a couple ungraceful vaults and stumbling through the debris to get closer. This bastard got what he wanted, did what he wanted, and won! So, why is he acting like that? Who destroyed his town? His people?

Finally, you're a couple steps behind him. Thankful, at the very least, for whatever weird state this man is in because it grants you the opportunity to approach and press the cold steel of your pistol to the side of his temple.

"Don't. Move."

You hope it comes out as the threatening command you intend it to be. There's a tense beat of silence as you wait for his next move until you realize he's doing exactly what you demanded.

Then he chuckles. A choked out, watery sort of sound. Your hands start shaking even as they press the barrel harsher against his head.

"Go ahead and shoot."

"Answer me first." Your voice becomes as unsteady as the quakes in your body and you rasp out, "Why… why'd you do it?"

His head lifts and you flinch, but he takes no further action besides staring blankly ahead at the ruins. "I wish I could tell you but… I've been asking myself the same question."

"I — you…! You wreak hell and havoc upon a whole innocent town and… and you don't even know why?!"

"Pathetic, isn't it?" The man laughs again, without a shred of humor. A gloved hand reaches up to wrap around the weapon and you momentarily falter at the force of him leaning into it. The weight pushing it closer into his skull seems hard enough to leave a nasty imprint, as if that should be a main concern right now. "I'd simply like to know how I did it."

"I —"

"Not loaded," he sighs and drops his hand, twisting around to actually get a proper look at whoever was holding him at gunpoint.

You're taken aback by the intensity of death radiating in those dark brown irises that casually observe you through amber-colored, cracked lenses. Your arms fall down, dumbfounded at the stranger's unflinching behavior, the pistol bumping into your thigh. He lets out a "tsk" and then pulls something out of his pocket.

In his opposite palm, clad in a fingerless glove unlike the left, rests a conical golden object. Though you've never seen one in real life before, you think you know what it is. The shape matches the hollow outlines when Chan disassembled the chambers of your gun.

"A cartridge," he says and you blink. "A bullet," he clarifies upon noticing your confusion. Then the man smiles encouragingly. "Go on. Take it."

You're incredulous. "You're okay with handing that over to me?"

"It's what you want, right?" There's a wistful look on his face. "This place… it was your home."

"No," you're quick to refute, shocked at such an automatic response. Then admitting, "I don't even know what a home is."

Innocent town, my ass, is what you derisively admit inward and snort at yourself.

The convent itself was far from comforting. The other orphans with their bright grins when Saint Meryl sang lullabies on the nights you couldn't sleep — those were the kinds of things that made it bearable.

Guilt.

"I — I —"

It overwhelms your senses. Rattling up your entire nervous system and settling a cruel, cruel weight in your chest. You hunch over, chest heaving, and throat burning. There's a thump as your gun falls to the ground, its silvery sharp edges becoming distorted, warped, and blurred through a film of unshed tears in your widened eyes.

"Should've… It should've —"

"Hey, hey…"

"It should've been me!"

The man rises to his full height, brushing off his clothes before crouching down. A sturdy hand grips your shoulder and dutifully encourages your gasping upper body into an upright position. Gently, ever so fragile, he bops your forehead with his and you subconsciously lean against the unexpected support.

He's near enough to ground you to something solid. But distant enough for two strangers whose first meeting is one amidst a crumbling town's travesty. With his close presence comes the scent of gun smoke, though not as bitterly pungent and putrid as you recall from before. It's subtle and smokey, reminiscent of the fire that Chan once proudly stoked in his makeshift forge.

Your body shakes as the tears finally slip free.

"All lives are equally precious, one shouldn't be sacrificed for another."

"… How can… how can you say that so… easily?"

The death-come-over look in his eyes changes to something faraway. Like he's seeing something beyond the destruction surrounding both of you. Those amber lenses don't have to be cracked to draw attention to the fracturing despair radiating behind them.

Then, he shakes his head and shrugs. "Because you should live even when those dear to you are gone. This world is made of love and peace, after all."

Your crying abruptly pauses with the natural effort it takes to let out a scoff. Ignoring your utter scorn and disbelief, the man's gaze drifts to the pistol still on the ground. The tip of a steel-toed boot kicks it up into the air with a flourish, single-handedly catching it to inspect the weapon with practiced ease.

"Live because there's a reason you survived, even if you loathe every second of it. You'll feel like you don't deserve it. But persevere because you should. Because that's what they would've wanted and you keep them alive by living yourself. A burden? Maybe. Why spend such a cursed blessing only dwelling in regret when you can do so much more?"

He offers the gun back, its handle extended in your direction.

"If nothing else, live for yourself most importantly. Help show the world the love and peace it deserves. Even if it couldn't afford to gift it to you. That's what life is all about. The ticket to the future is always blank!" Pausing, he shrugs with a regret-filled smile on his face. "At least that's what I was taught… and what I think."

"… Awfully full of optimism for some dude who wiped out a full town and doesn't even know why."

"Name's Seokmin," he returns, now sporting a cheeky grin as you cautiously reach out for the pistol. Only to be outsmarted with a literal 'sleight-of-hand' and meeting the warmth of fingers and a gloved palm instead of the expectation of hard, cold, and familiar steel.

"Huh?"

"Lee Seokmin, to be precise! And it's a pleasure to meet 'cha! Erm, despite the… terrible circumstances." Seokmin jiggles the gun in front of you with his other hand, almost taunting you to reach for it again.

You don't.

"And what do you call this lovely lady?"

"Nothing."

"A shame. But not everyone cares to name things, 'specially if they don't hold any value." He finally tosses it back and you barely manage to catch it in time with a scowl.

"Just haven't decided."

"I see! Mine's Geranium."

"Oh, like… the flower?"

He visibly perks up at that even further, a radiant smile showcasing two pointy fangs. "You've heard of it?"

"Well," you scratch your cheek, "the, uh, sisters gave a girl that name because of her hair."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the dreadful realization you'll never see those brilliant ruby locks bounce because of her excitement again settles back into your stomach. You swallow, eyes roaming the stranger in front of you for a distraction.

"Um… you must really like the color… red."

Seokmin glances down at the tatters of his scarlet clothes and shrugs. "I guess. Though the one I saw was red, I've heard they come in different colors."

"You've seen a plant? Like a plant plant? A real one! You know — that grows out of the ground and transforms and all that? It doesn't, well…"

Vegetation was a rarely discussed concept. The only thing you knew came out of the poorly written history books in the dusty library's darkest corner. In the desert outskirts, you had a better chance of finding ancient Earth technology that might still be intact to share its plethora of knowledge about the old world humans left behind than hope to find whatever resources the big cities had access to.

"Mm, yeah, a long time ago. But say," he jovially waves the cartridge from before and it glints in the setting rays of the suns. "Would you care to hear this man's story before shooting him?"

And of course, you listened. What other choice did you have, you who lost everything at once? But even back then, something small and precious was planted in the barren depths of your heart. That was just the beginning. It would continue to grow, watered and tended to under the sunny smile of Lee Seokmin — the destroyer of cities and a very wanted man across the planet.

You leave that tiny bit out during the recitation of your past to the inquisitive pastor. Though something you'll regrettably find out later is he's already got you all figured out.

Bastard.

"… So, that's how I met the infamous Lee Seokmin and didn't end up killing him," you declare with a flourish and take a satisfied gulp of cheap beer picked up from some abandoned mart along the way out of Little Jersey.

Draining another bottle dry, you toss away the metal cap, close one eye, and peer through the narrow bottleneck like it's a telescope — albeit a very poor one.

Through the distorted glass stretch endless sand dunes as far as the eye can see. Stars glitter and sparkle amid the glow of the full moons in orbit, temporarily dimmed by a puff of the roguish's man's cigarette that wafts through the inky darkness.

You wonder if he'd be willing to share one.

"A shame," Seungcheol grumbles and offers a white stick from his pocket.

You take it eagerly only to see it's nothing but — a lollipop. The hard candy's become a strange gooey consistency thanks to melting in the desert heat all day and partially re-solidifying during the nighttime's chilly air.

It's stale too.

Fucker.

You let out a disdainful sniff but nod in agreement to his statement. "It is. But he promised me something. Then his bounty increased from a meager six million to sixty billion double dollars after destroying July, putting a hole in the moon, and all that. So… following him around has paid off."

"I guess," he shrugs, "guess I don't really care 'bout yer lil meet-cute story."

You gape at the audacity. "You're the one who fuckin' asked!"

"Well… figured we could bond, ya know? Orphans 'n all that cozy, feel-good shit."

"You know, not a single thing I've said thus far coud be classified as 'cute'."

"Uh-huh."

"And I never took you to be a sentimental fool."

"Hey, now —"

You hold up a hand. "'Thou shall not bear false witness'."

"As if ya even know what that means," Seungcheol retorts and flicks the ashy cigarette stub in your direction, the cross around his neck ironically reflecting in the moonlight. "Was gonna say, if anythin', I put the mental in sentimental, sweet'art."

Well, you certainly wouldn't argue with that point. "…What I do know is that you're doing this all. For him."

"'Ol Needle Noggin, eh?"

"Well… yeah. But he's only part of a bigger picture for you."

"… 'S none o' yer business, ya know? Best to know less."

Your eyes roll. "Sure. That's why you nearly got hit by our car 'cause you wore a suit into the desert and didn't bring a drop of water. All while hauling that stupid, big-ass cross around! And then you insist on joining us — try to scam us! — but hey," you put your hands up, "none of my business."

"Wasn't tryna scam —"

"Hella shady, man... Hella. fuckin'. shady." You're shocked you can see the man's eyes roll in a begrudging defeat behind his black sunglasses — at night, no less — but you nudge him. "C'mon, just tell me! I bet it has to do with Hopeland, something… or someone back at that orphanage."

"Anyone told ya how irritatin' ya are?"

"Only the ones that are equally just as annoying!"

"Tch, woman." Seungcheol messes up the back of his black hair, mouth opening as he cracks his jaw. There's a pregnant pause. "… 'Han was… he was different. Ya wouldn't get it."

"Try me. Evidently you weren't listening very well, were you?" No surprise there. You retrieve the locket that takes refuge beneath your top, a familiar oval swinging from its long chain between the two of you. "Believe it or not, I do get it."

His eyes fixate on it like a pendulum, darting to your face, and then up to the sky. A crooked smile quirks up the corner of his mouth and he lets out a resigned sigh. "Ya really love 'im, don'tcha?"

You feel a funny sensation.

Akin to getting caught in a horde of flying worms and trying to squash down as many as you can. Your answer is hushed and Seungcheol snickers. Unbeknownst to the two of you that an additional pair of ears — assumed to be asleep — also catches your whispered reply.

"So, how much ya gonna pay for confessin'?" the pastor goads and lets out a startled yelp when you try to smash the hand-held bank he totes around that's shaped like a cathedral.

"Oh, go to hell, Choi!"

"Stare any longer and you'll no longer be needin' Sirocco." An amused snicker follows the relaxed drawl. "Bullets're 'bout to start flyin' outta those eyes 'stead of that gun o' yers."

You scowl at the dumb man seated next to you. "It's not like subtlety has ever been a strong suit of yours. But could you at least pay better attention to your surroundings?" A meager amount of golden liquid sloshes against the sides of the glass you pointedly wave around. "Or are you already too drunk to forget where we are?"

"Ain't no lightweight," Seungcheol brags with his fourth pint of the night in hand and a rapacious grin cockily tilting the empty lollipop stick in the corner of his mouth upward. "Can't say the same for the rest, though. Whiskey's stronger than a punch to the gut."

"… You would know. I'm sure it might just taste like water to some by now."

While it might initially elate most visitors to order as many rounds of the only available beverage on the menu as possible, the reality of the situation was much more grim. As if he can read your mind, the man clad in black, gray, and muted silvers flippantly reminds you of why your so-called merry band of travelers are even here.

"Needle Noggin said 'e fixed the Plant up just fine 'n dandy, so here's hopin' we get some clean bathwater t'night."

At those words, your gaze instinctively shoots back to where it focused earlier. Seungcheol snorts and drains his glass with a satisfactory sigh before poking more fun at you.

"Gonna put a hole through his head at this point."

"Not like that's anything new."

"Yeah, but rather than constantly laserin' holes through his skull, ya should be tryna convince him to fill yers up, instead. 'N not referrin' to that empty space behind yer forehead."

"I know exactly what you mean, you perverted freak."

That cracks Seungcheol up. "'N here I was thinkin' ya was gonna end up a nun servin' the Eye of Joshua!"

By now, you're well-accustomed to the hedonistic ways of the man who still keeps a leather band with a cross on it strapped across his Adam's apple, sewn into the cuffs of his black suit, and carries the hulking shape of one on his weary shoulders.

Unfazed, you fire back, "If they even let someone like you into the blessed and holy ranks, then any whore off the streets would be welcome to join."

It's a series of light-hearted jabs you both take in stride. The truth is much darker and deeper, but tonight serves as a tiny snapshot away from the normal weariness of day-to-day survival in Gunsmoke. Right now, you celebrate alongside the residents of Tonim what peace could really look like in the future.

Except you're on edge.

For a reason that's silly compared to the usual adrenaline rush of tracking down Plants nearing red status and defending the area, all the while trying to prevent the inevitable destruction and chaos to follow. Still, it's why you beckon the bartender over for another refill as a positively "tickled-pink" Seungcheol not-so-silently judges.

"Now who's staring?"

"'Kay, but's not with unbridled lust and — " He's cut off by a sharp kick to the side of his shin delivered by one of your heavy combat boots. "And feelin's," gets wheezed out before the pastor falls silent at your nasty scowl paired with Wonwoo's timely arrival.

The saloon owner and de facto authority in town approaches the two of you cautiously. It's no secret who you are, who you're with. What you do and the things that follow when you do what you do. And yet what you've done has saved the town and given its people — especially the younger folk — something that some of them have never experienced before.

Hope.

And that seems to be good enough proof for Wonwoo. Rumors may just be rumors, after all. None of you are like the reports relayed in a tinny voice through the virtually enhanced radios that are non-plant-powered — aka illustriously dubbed by their inventor as VERnons.

"… the Bloody Rain… follows… Lee… Humanoid Typhoon… armed… dangerous. Punisher… cross… machine gun… two unknown… likely… agents…. Bernardelli Insurance…"

The VERnon sitting behind the counter splutters out bits and pieces of information. He side-eyes the device awkwardly and starts fumbling with the buttons, trying to mumble over the static and monotonous voice.

"Can I pour you another drink?"

"Sure," you chuckle, pleased.

The bartender's well-intentioned efforts are fruitless which is to be expected. Only the creator, and those he personally taught, could truly modify the invention as pleased. A part of you hoped to find evidence Hansol had traveled this far but alas, he was probably still searching through the seven major cities for his beloved Milly before attempting to wander through the treacherous wastelands.

A brown, short-haired darling sneaks awe-filled glances at the two of you from the corner where a group of women around your age gather to chat. Seungcheol's the first to catch onto the admiring starry-eyed gaze and winks. Chuckling when a pudgy hand clings tighter to one of the lady's long skirt, using the fabric as a demure little shield against his effortless charisma.

You catch the tail-end of the interaction with the ghost of a smile. If there's one thing that can definitely soften Seungcheol's rough edges, it's children. You can't blame him, reminded of cheery voices and energetic footsteps pounding after your own through the convent's hallways.

The attractive woman wonders what's drawing the younger girl's attention and leans down to whisper in her ear. Gesturing in your direction, you watch as she nods encouragingly and offers a gentle smile, pushing the tiny brunette forward who readily toddles over. The gaps still waiting for pearly white teeth to grow in that shy smile on the little girl's face are endearingly winsome.

"'Lo, Wonu."

The bespectacled man starts, eyes wide as he peers over the counter and just manages to glimpse the top of her mousy brown tufts. "Is that you, Lina? You're not supposed to be here."

"Past yer bedtime, lil one?"

She huffs indignantly at the two men, hands on her hips. "I've once stayed up 'til four in the morning, mister!"

"Oh, Lina…"

"Besides, how can anyone of good standing sleep properly when there's heroes in town?"

"Huh, what a darlin' angel!"

You scoff at your comrade's words. "As if you've ever seen one."

"I do beg your pardon," Wonwoo scrambles to excuse the child's enthusiasm. "Looks like another talk is due with, uh, Sheryl."

"You're just jealous, Wonu. Sherry says they're heroes."

A chubby finger points at you and Seungcheol and the bartender clicks his tongue — partially in reproach and the other half out of embarrassment. The two of you hardly pay any attention to his reaction, seeming to not mind her boldness at all.

"That's right, sweet'art. And don'tchu forget now." In fact, a certain cross-wearing man revels in it. He rummages deep in his pocket and pulls out a lollipop with a flourish. "'N here's a lil magic gift for ya, princess."

You're one step faster, snatching it and unwrapping the candy with a quick inspection. At least it looks fresh and clean. Seungcheol snorts. Ignoring him, you crouch down and hand it to Lina with a gentle smile.

"Remember to be careful with what you take from strangers."

"I know! But you're heroes… and heroes are always good people! You would never hurt me!" Those blue-green eyes are certainly dazzling as she stares into yours, reminiscent of the clean water now filling the town's reservoir. "You're very pretty."

"That might be the highest compliment I've ever received."

"Pretty people don't hurt anyone either! Sherry's super pretty and she's the gentlest I know!"

A very pretty pastor himself snickers for multiple reasons. Meanwhile, Wonwoo laments with a tired sigh, "Dunno what that crazy woman's been teaching her, I swear…"

"You're not supposed to talk about people you like like that, Wonu!" Lina gives them both the stink eye but returns her attention to focus solely on you — Tonim's loveliest savior in her teal-eyed view. "Will I grow up to be as pretty as you?"

Ah, how your heart aches.

"Even prettier."

"I…" She gnaws on her lip, as if it does anything to hide how much her pleased grin glows. "I wanna be a hero, too!"

"Don't see why you wouldn't become one." To you, she already is — in all her innocent radiance and glory.

"Gotta grow big 'n strong first, missy."

"I am strong!"

"Don't doubt it. But wait 'til yer at least twice my age 'fore ya go swingin' at thugs."

She wrinkles her nose. "I'll be in the grave like Grammy if I wait that long, old man!"

Seungcheol guffaws at her unexpected remark and you hear the bartender beg, "Lina, please!" But you focus on all the brilliance in front of you — from precious unkempt locks to blue eyes full of fire and finally to the worn out, dust-covered shoes.

"Hopefully you'll never need a reason to be the hero, though. It's our duty to keep that from happening."

There's too much hidden meaning and brutal experience in your words for her to fully understand. The lull gives a certain pastor an opportunity to sidle back into the conversation, ready to get up to no good as always.

"Ya wanna meet the hero of all heroes, darlin'?"

"Choi —"

"Yeah!" Lina claps ecstatically.

"Go 'head 'n give 'er yer second key," he coaxes quietly with a shit-eating smirk.

"I swear!"

"C'mon… never like keepin' such a sweet gal waitin'!"

After a minute's hesitation, you begrudgingly agree and take it out.

"Thank ya. Now, got a lil mission for ya, Miss Hero-in-the-Makin'."

"Really?!"

Barely able to conceal her exuberance, she reverently takes the key like it's actual gold and not simply plated. Seungcheol ruffles her hair affectionately.

"Y'see the man in all purple?"

"Mhm, yeah! The one that looks like the night sky?"

"Yeah, give 'im it. Make sure to say it's from this pretty lady."

"Choi!"

"Talk to 'im too 'cause he'll love that. He's a real hero, y'know? Truest of 'em all."

"Yes, sir!"

"Attagirl."

Lina scurries off and you turn back to the counter with a sour glare directed at Seungcheol. "What was that all about?"

"Dunno, cute?"

"I'm really sorry about that all," Wonwoo apologetically interrupts with the offer of another refill which is readily accepted. "She… she's very excitable."

"No need for apologizin', man."

"Yeah, she's adorable. Is she yours?"

The bespectacled bartender stutters, almost dropping the glass he's handing to you. "That's, uh, that's my sister!"

"Ah, makes sense! Didn't mean to assume."

He flushes and turns away. But not without mumbling something about it being okay and your comrade groans.

"Reminder — ya get too drunk, 'm not dealin' with ya ass."

"Great, I don't want you near my ass."

"'S not what I meant!"

"Yeah, yeah."

Seungcheol downs another shot and you're quick to follow his lead once Wonwoo hands over another refill per your shared request. However, this time, the stoic man surprisingly lingers and awkwardly fiddles with his wire-rimmed frames, doing his very best to not let his eyes wander your scantily clad figure as your head tilts back to swallow the burning alcohol.

Meanwhile, the pastor's grin turns wolfish.

"So, uh, who are you, really?"

"Curious, eh?" You lean comfortably onto the counter, braced by your forearms and an alluring smile on your face for the handsome saloon owner. His gaze drifts down to your scar-covered hands which also happen to be placed conveniently underneath your breasts.

You'd once said the best disguise and toughest armor was none at all. And why not flaunt your assets — literally — and put them to good use. The desert is hot anyways!

Seungcheol and Seungkwan both called bullshit. Mingyu applauded you and waved his "I respect women's rights, wrongs, and all the above no matter what!" flag. Seokmin — already used to your behavior and attire — had nothing else to say other than his normal quips of, "As long as you're comfortable".

"Well, a-a beautiful woman like yourself has to have everyone wondering."

And you laughed in the face of your haters every time it worked.

"Just a bounty hunter."

Wonwoo nods at the casual answer, recalling the holster strapped around the plush of your thigh beneath short denim shorts. "Where from?"

"Well… around. My hometown was destroyed so…"

"Oh? Same here."

"Ah, camaraderie." You jab a thumb menacingly in the direction of the purple-cloaked figure and the life of tonight's celebration, currently animatedly chattering to Lina. "That's why I'm turning him in."

"He's…?"

"Yup, Lee Seokmin. Yes," you confirm with a smirk at the way Wonwoo's eyes bug out behind his glasses, "that one — the infamous humanoid typhoon. Don't worry, he won't hurt anything or anyone here."

"He's… uh, he's not quite what I expected."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"You must be pretty badass to reign him in. Heard he's giving what's left of the July regime officers a run for their double dollars."

"For sure. But it's thanks to the other two drunkards, really. Believe it or not, they're Bernardelli insurance agents. Raven-haired one's Seungkwan and the tall one is Mingyu. They're helping to monitor that whopping bounty of mine and prevent any more disasters from happening. Heard I might get a bump in value if I bring him in alive."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's working. And he seems… willing? To come with you?"

"The irony. Always been quite blasé about facing his doom."

"He's really a Plant engineer, too?"

"Of sorts," you huff at his visible confusion but wave your empty glass. "Can I get another?"

He's more than happy to accommodate and returns with two, sliding one over to Seungcheol with a cautious look at the person who seems the closest to you. "And this is…?"

"Pastor. Pleased to meet'cha."

"Oh! Really?"

"A surprising addition to the mix, yeah. But everyone needs to, like, pray sometimes." And under your breath, low enough so only a certain man can hear, "no matter how sketchy they are."

"Do you, hm, officiate weddings?"

The one in question quirks a thick eyebrow. "Ya lookin' to get hitched, boy?"

"M-maybe."

And Seungcheol feels wholly compelled to bless him silently from the bottom of his blackened heart with full sincerity, seeing as how the bespectacled man timidly peeks your way before his gaze darts elsewhere. "Sorry lad, charge 'bout a thousand double dollars minimum."

While the solitary bartender crashes back into the sad reality of capitalism, you jab your elbow into the pastor's ribcage. "Fuckin' scammer."

"Only the best of the best! Ya know, sixty billion's still on the table — 'n it better be callin' my name."

"No one even has sixty billion double dollars!"

"We have 'im." And he points back to where hoots and hollers erupt from the center table of the saloon.

Lina's returned to the woman she was with earlier — presumably her beloved Sherry — but that doesn't mean Seokmin's alone. There's so much disdain in your side-eye, spotting the busty violet-haired sweetheart his arm wraps around. After all, he's the worst kind of ladykiller.

And by that, you mean he absolutely sucks at flirting and can't get or keep a partner to save his life. Yet you're constantly stuck witnessing women, men, and attractive people of all kinds throw themselves at the good-looking man until he opens his mouth and they're put off by his clear lack of suaveness or strange little idiosyncrasies.

"Stop with the stupid bet, it's not happening. Nobody's going to be winning a thing."

"It's called usin' the damn 'magination, darlin'!"

"Which means you need to get better hobbies. You've corrupted my friends!"

"Hah! Them fools were already too invested in this 'fore I ever came along."

"Fill me up again?"

Intent on ignoring Seungcheol, you belatedly realize how aggressive your request comes across. You're also eager for something to help soothe ache in your chest. It comes and goes like a bad toothache — manageable enough to forget about the pain until it returns tenfold.

Thankfully, Wonwoo meekly complies with the back tips of his ears tinged red and Seungcheol barely manages to hide his extreme amount of mirth for the situation behind another glass. In the dim lighting, at certain angles, and with another shot of whiskey settling into your system, you conclude that the handsome saloon owner could certainly pass as Seokmin's brother and vice versa.

But you know the truth.

Familiar with the one who's all too identical to the infamous gunslinger, yet entirely different altogether. Irritation flares in your gut, prickling harsh enough that even the burn of alcohol fails to drown it out.

"I'm turning in for the night."

"Smartin' idea."

"Don't get too smashed."

"You should get smashed."

"Bye, Choi."

Tipsiness is a great excuse to bump purposely into him as you get off the stool. It's only thanks to his genetically enhanced metabolism that the pastor's able to stay upright. He grumbles something that's likely insulting, but standing upright causes you to realize you drank way too much. Everything spins or sways, including your body as you stumble up the stairs.

Somehow, you safely make it to the second level. Above the saloon is a hallway of small bedrooms that Wonwoo generously loans out to routine drunkards or stray travelers. It takes a few minutes of fumbling around but you finally find the lock that matches the first of its paired key and tumble face-first into (thankfully clean) bedsheets.

A hazy mix of drifting in and out of consciousness follows. It's not until the door clicks and there's an ominous creak of floorboards followed by a noticeable presence creeping up at your side that fully rouses you from the feverish dreams of gunfire, explosions, and loss that still plague your mind to this day.

You roll over, intending to assume both an offensive and defensive position against the nighttime visitor, but a hand lands on your shoulder before you can. Still sluggish, there's no way you could ever hope to outmatch the humanoid typhoon, even at your best.

"Hey, you."

It takes a bit for your eyes to adjust to the darkness after hearing his voice — and then there he is. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Seokmin greets you with a fond, megawatt grin. The thumb of his cybernetic prosthesis gently traces little circles over your bare skin. There's a faint hum and glow from its advanced tech mechanics, paired with moonbeams from the window, casting off an ethereal radiance.

"So, you're staying here tonight?"

"But of course, isn't that why you sent such a cute little cherub my way?"

Ah, Lina. You unwittingly smile, remembering how joyful she was to accomplish her mission.

Then your eyes close, nose wrinkling at the copious stench of mixed perfumes and alcohol he brought in and refusing to acknowledge what he says.

"You hella reek."

"Says the one who drank over seven shots."

"… That preacher's a fuckin' tattler. And a liar. And a total scammer. Don't fall for him, Seok."

"Now, what makes you think Seungcheol told me, hm?" He leans down almost nose-to-nose, enough to make yours scrunch even more at the buzzing feeling of how near he is. Your eyes open to squint at him and he winks. "Silly boy tried to mess with god again and max out his intake. Spoiler alert, he failed. Mingyu dragged him back to his room."

"You're the only one I know who can call Choi a 'silly boy'."

"'Cause that's what he is."

"And you need to stop acting like my babysitter!"

You shift away from his gorgeous face and he leans back to give you space, sporting a smug grin. "Then who would take care of you, mayfly?"

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Be nice to me and maybe I won't keep count on how many glasses you down next time," he teases. "But since I'm so kind and forgiving, would you like a nice, warm, relaxing bath?"

Well, it did sound wonderful. TMI, but cleanliness was a luxury when traveling the desert. Even more so when the places you arrived at had Plant issues. Luckily, Seokmin was more than capable of fixing them but even then, circumstances varied. Especially around the one known across Gunsmoke as mankind's first localized human disaster.

"Only if you get one, too."

It slips from your mouth without a thought. But you might as well have told Seokmin you'd gotten him a box full of doughnuts with how delightedly he clasps his hands together.

"As you wish, m'lady!"

And he treats you like one, scooping you up into his arms in a princess-style carry. At least tonight you're more willing to let him do as he wishes, especially when he discards the perfume-infused outerwear. Whiskey, sleepiness, and the smooth material of his undershirt keep you pliant and cuddly well after he'd snatched you off the bed.

Seokmin's already ten times stronger than even a human like Mingyu and his prosthesis only helps take further advantage of that fact. He easily deposits you on the edge of the tub. Normal routine would require untying the tight laces on your combat boots but since you'd kicked them off prior to resting, he skips to the next step.

Deft fingers make quick work unbuttoning your shorts, the prosthetic digits of his left hand then moving to loosen the straps that keep your top on. His other hand holds them together in a pseudo-knot to keep the material in place.

Honoring a sense of modesty, you suppose — even though you've seen each other unclothed before. But you melt into the secure press of his palm paired with the support of his chest against your back as he leans over to turn on the water.

"Let me know if it's a good temperature."

"M'kay."

"You're so agreeable when drunk!"

"And you're still just as annoying."

"Okay, okay," he relents. Amicably even.

Seokmin never enjoys butting heads like Seungcheol constantly does. Although another "mayfly," gets tacked on to the end of his playful yield in a mischievous tone because if there is one thing, it's that he can never tease you enough.

Brown eyes quietly trace the ink and scars that mark your skin, some disappearing or completely hidden beneath the parts that are covered. Finally, they land on the silver chain around your neck, only a breadth away from the tip of his fingers that suddenly twitch at how soft you feel beneath the calloused roughness of his own skin.

You let out a little sigh and it shakes him from his reverie, noticing the tub's filled up past your calves. Guiding one of your hands to where the locket lies beneath your clothes covering your chest, he stands. "Call me if you need anything or just want help getting out, m'lady."

"'Kay."

You're already stripping bare but Seokmin breezes out the door before you can blink. You sigh again and slip into the hot water, enjoying a soak to ease the heaviness you feel.

It's hard to understand this emotional turmoil. Knowing that you don't enjoy feeling this way, you make a false promise to not drink ever again, staying submerged in the water until your fingers wrinkle.

Maybe you fell asleep, maybe you didn't. There's a bathrobe laid on the sink when you're ready to get out that you don't remember from before but who knows. Who cares? It's cozy and you haven't felt this clean in a while.

"All yours," you lazily declare, stepping into the bedroom.

Seokmin perks up from where he casually sits cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with Geranium. A dopey smile lights up his face, gaze moving from the hefty nickel revolver and zoning in on you.

"All mine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats quieter, more to himself, "all mine…" But when you unconsciously shiver, his eyes flash and brows furrow. "C'mere, I warmed the bed up for you."

"Aren't you going to bathe?"

"Yep, so don't miss me too much, my dear mayfly!"

He accompanies it with a saucy wink and saunters into the bathroom, humming. You find yourself in a bit of a daze, head and cheeks holding onto the heat of the steam from your bath (and more). You change into a light tank and cotton shorts before sitting back down. As promised, where Seokmin rested was indeed warm and smells of faint gun smoke that always brings back memories.

"Total slaughter…!"

Splash!

"… Total slaughter…"

Splash!

"I won't leave… a single man alive."

Splash! Splash!

"La de da de dai~," echoes from the bathroom. "Genocide…"

Splash.

"La de da de duh," splash, splash, splash, "an ocean… of blood."

"Let's begin… the killing time."

Seokmin possessed a lovely melodic voice no matter how nonsensical or gruesome the words he sang. Your eyes close with relaxation as he continues into a different tune. Though the lyrics are definitely more hopeful this time, there's a heavy sense of underlying desolation despite the rapid, upbeat tone.

"So…" splash, "on the first evening," splash, "a pebble from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…"

You think back to how he silently cried when he thought no one was looking after a young stowaway on the sandsteamer broke into the same nostalgic song. Your heart aches in empathy for the woman whose heroic sacrifice saved humankind but left behind irreparable damage to twins she adored.

Rem Saverem.

She was to Seokmin as what Saint Meryl was to you. But your fondness for the nun who dared to favor one random orphan above the other equally ordinary ones with an unprecedented amount of kindness paled in comparison to the devotion Seokmin exhibited for Rem. Her kindness, hope, and love for and of life didn't simply become Seokmin's philosophies — they were a true part of every fiber, woven into his very being.

He was peculiar. Hardheaded — or in Seungkwan's affectionate term: a hardass — when it came to nonviolence. A true pacifist. Even when enemies held him at gunpoint, allies turned their backs on him, and his choice to always save was at the very cost of his well being… Seokmin would choose to tear himself apart limb by limb before ever causing damage or letting harm come to another.

And even if he always chose the world and those living in it first before anything else, that's what you loved the most about him.

"What's got you making that face?"

You're quick to school whatever expression it might be. Your tongue feels fuzzy. You purse your lips as he lumbers closer, freshly dressed in a comfy white long-sleeved shirt and black sweats.

"What face?"

"You know, the one where something's weighing on your mind."

The bed frame dips and squeaks when he flops down to snuggle against you. Still-damp, reddish-brown bangs lay across your shoulder and dampen your skin. The chilled press of the gold hoop in his left earlobe raises bumps wherever it touches as he endearingly nuzzles you.

"There is."

"Tell me."

"You need to dry your hair properly."

"Do it for me."

"… This is on purpose, isn't it?"

Nevertheless, you take the unused towel around his neck and vigorously rub at his head. No complaints or protests defending his honor come from Seokmin. Just the usual little trills of contentment escape as he leans into your touch. Once you're satisfied the job's done well, he plucks the towel from your hands and you fix him with a stern look.

"Well, Seok? You gonna answer me?"

He curls in on his lanky frame, enough so to find room to plop his head pitifully onto your thighs and nuzzle the bare skin with his nose. "Not if you won't answer me first."

"You."

"Hm?"

"Was… thinking about you."

"Oh, really? Dreaming about how cool, dashing, handsome, and awesome I am?"

"… Yeah. I like you."

He chuckles, closing his eyes. More so at the feeling of your fingers idly playing with his strands of hair than seriously taking what you say. "I like you, too!"

"No, I mean," you jostle him harshly as you shift anxiously, tugging a little too hard at his roots. "Something's wrong with me."

"… Mhm yeah, you've been drinking."

"Goddamnit, Seok… that was like hours ago! But… what if… what if I'm in love with you?"

Your fingers retract like you've been caught red-handed stealing Mingyu's pudding and a millisecond later, Seokmin's head flies off your lap as he sits up to stare incredulously at you and can only gasp out one word, "What?"

It comes out more like a statement than a question. You've seen all kinds of emotions appear in those clear brown eyes of his. Emptiness. Excitement. Happiness. Fear. Loneliness. Mysteriousness. Pain. But now, you can hardly make sense of what turmoil is swimming in those murky depths.

"There's no way," he shakes his head — laughter high and brittle. "Fake", is what Seungcheol occasionally points out whenever he spies the gunslinger's smile. You've never believed him until now. "You're drunk."

Seokmin's been hurt before and you know that. It's why you wish for him to be nothing but happy, that there's some truth to the joy he constantly tries to radiate. Hoping some parts are really healing, that he's giving time to let the bloody wounds coagulate — if even just a little.

"It's me. I mean, I'm the one that's drunk," he reiterates, shaking his head.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"… Like what?"

Perhaps you were too hopeful.

"Like I'm making some sort of mistake. Like I'm wrong about this. About us."

And still under the influence of the too-damn-strong alcohol.

"It's… none of that, it's just…"

"You think I don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, do you?" he fires back rather harshly, "'cause you're still wearing that thing and —"

You wince as his voice breaks off, palm instinctively flying to where the locket rests. "What the hell does that have to do with anything right now? I thought we were over this! Years ago!"

"Maybe you were since you continue to stubbornly follow me everywhere!"

"I'm not the only one!"

"Yeah, 'cause no one ever listens to me!"

"I always listen to you, Seok. Even if the words that come out of your mouth don't match how you actually feel —"

"You don't know how I feel!"

Silence.

Seokmin's chest heaves, wide eyes taking in how you immediately freeze. That look, oh, that look on your face could kill him and his body moves on auto-pilot to stand, directing his gaze to stare daggers into the floorboards. Begging them to rip off like a bandaid and shield him from your wrath.

The wood beneath his feet groans, shaking ever the slightest.

"You're right. How dare I?"

"Wait, mayfly… I —" he switches gears with a plea of your given name.

"And obviously, you have no fuckin' idea how I feel." Now it's your turn to let out a disingenuous chuckle, fake humor cracking under the pressure of sadness it's struggling to mask. "You think all I'm after is revenge more than the actual thought even crosses my mind. You put on this show that nothing bothers you, make assumptions that no one can keep up with you, that you can do it all on your own."

"No, that's not… that's not what I meant! You know how dangerous —"

You stumble ungracefully off the bed, flinching away when Seokmin's words break off as he automatically reaches out. For you. To support and for support.

Yet, it hurts all the more.

"But what do I even know? How can I, when you keep everyone at arm's length? It's like… it's like I don't even know who you are! Like you're someone else, someone I'll never get to understand…"

To others, it might not make sense, possibly the dumbest thing you could say — especially with the state you're in. But you know Seokmin, a fact he's subconsciously taken comfort in.

But you also know Seokmin. Which means you know the exact place to hit him where it hurts the most.

And suddenly, those words you say propel him back into a moment from the past, body free-falling in the sky.

Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Pleading.

Begging that exact phrase and being demanded of the same accusation. All from the one who's falling with him. Whose face mirrors his own, but couldn't be more different in that crucial and devastating moment.

His brother. His twin. His other half who was once his everything — now a total stranger from the person he thought he knew.

A fifty-year-old reunion that should've been a reconciliation, turned into a doomsday.

And for you, the once simple toothache pain is now overwhelming your full body and you refuse to let him see how it's dampened your cheeks. Especially when you hear the pained whisper of the name that escapes his mouth when you're the one that triggered those awful memories. Staggering to the door, you yank it open and he instinctually takes a step forward.

Don't leave me.

You hear the unspoken plea as clearly as if spoken aloud.

"Don't follow me," is what you hiss out instead, and just like when you first met, Seokmin obeys.

When Seungkwan makes room arrangements — if there is enough money to spare when needed and the options are available — he books everyone their own private space. More often than not though, he and Mingyu share a room and so do you and Seokmin.

Out of everyone in the group, you're the only one who is used to putting up with Seokmin's idiosyncrasies and the constant white noise of the cybernetic prosthetics's technology. You've rarely paid mind to having your own space unless Seokmin gets in one of those rare 150-year-old moods and wants some time by himself. Rare in nature, because he doesn't enjoy being left alone with his thoughts that threaten to consume him.

But he'll have to make due tonight. For the first time, you're extremely grateful for Seungkwan's pro-activeness.

You lock the door, crawl into a fresh cold bed, and wet a new pillow — one that lacks the comforting scent of gun smoke — with unshed tears.

For all his short-tempered and sassy mannerisms, Seungkwan is quite the worrywart. When the suns have peeked past the horizon and you're not already downstairs bullying Seungcheol, he's immediately knocking at your door and inquiring about your well-being. You assure him you're just hungover and he reluctantly leaves you be, likely picking up on how terrible you really do sound.

By high noon, Mingyu raps on the door next. He even sweetly offers to share his prized pudding in the hopes that you'll peek your head out. Though you appreciate it, you send him away, too — after reassuring the sensitive man you'll feel better after some rest.

Seungcheol doesn't miss the chance to be annoying times ten. He doesn't indulge in the effort of knocking, opting to make the floorboards squeal by pacing back and forth in front of the door. All the while, muttering this and that about "yer boy's like a pathetic dog and blah, blah, blah" until getting very kindly told to "fuck off!" and dragged back downstairs by a certain raven-haired insurance agent.

Even Seokmin checks in. Four times.

Once and then twice after you'd left and he'd figured out which room was yours. Then two more visits throughout the following day. He doesn't exactly make his presence known — but you know he knows you know he's out there.

If not by the distinct gait you've picked up on listening for after all this time, then by the hesitant thuds of combat boots lingering outside your door. Lost technology whirring with the action it takes to make a fist with his left hand, raising it up to the door and then back down again in self-inflicted defeat.

You refuse to see anyone, choosing to pity yourself first. Wallowing in your feelings and then sleeping as much of the heartache — and more so the hangover — away.

When the moons are visible in accordance to their nightly orbit, you get up to fuss with the mini VERnon in the room's corner. Nothing but static greets you. At the very least, the white noise is better than complete silence. By the time it's morning, you slowly awaken to the virtually enhanced radio trying to catch onto a faint signal. Enough to report the latest news in snippets with its mechanical voice.

"Beast… reported… Tonim town… !"

Your eyes fly open. Now is not the time to be wasting away. Donning a clean set of attire similar to what you wore into town — and with Sirocco strapped comfortingly to your thigh — you descend downstairs.

"Good morning!" Mingyu cheerfully greets with a delighted shout of your name and eagerly waves you over to sit next to him, waving around a promised cup of pudding. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, thanks. Sorry about that, whiskey here sure is strong."

"'S one helluva killer," Seungcheol sulks across from you, still sporting a massive headache and looking worse than that one time Seungkwan hit him with the car.

"You're just weak."

"Wha'zat say 'bout you?"

"Since I can equally acknowledge both my strengths and weaknesses, that makes me infinitely stronger than you'll ever be."

Seungkwan wordlessly hands you a bowl and you graciously accept it. Next to the pastor sits Seokmin, unnaturally quiet. You don't even spare him a glance even though brown eyes burn into the side of your face until you glare his way.

The stack of doughnuts on the plate in front of him remain untouched — minus the smudged icing on one that was likely from Seungcheol trying to swipe it. Evidently, Seokmin was in low spirits if he didn't want to consume his favorite desserts. But, he is still prideful enough to prevent anyone else from snatching the prized delicacy.

How typical.

An awkwardness ensues, charged with an underlying current of tension. A vein forms in Seungkwan's forehead from his blood pressure rising.

Its pulse matches the twitch in the corner of his fake smile as he attempts to make conversation, to which Mingyu — oblivious and happy-go-lucky as ever, bless his heart — replies enthusiastically. Seungcheol stares listlessly into space, twirling a lollipop around and around with his tongue. Next to him is a soul acting like a thunderstorm's personally pouring over him. Seokmin starts pitifully poking at his grand doughnut pile while you ferociously tear into a piece of bread like it's the last supper before swallowing.

"Soonyoung's coming."

Your unexpected, but welcomed, interruption ironically pauses Seungkwan's second diatribe about Hansol's calamitous ingenuity. If possible, the apprehension in the room intensifies tenfold.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. "How'd you hear?"

"Tuned the VERnon last night."

"'Course you did."

"Something about the Beast and Tonim came through. Not for sure but…"

"It never hurts to be too prepared!"

"True, 'Gyu. 'N if Soonyoungie's gonna be there, ya know what that likely means…"

You nod in understanding at Seungcheol's implication. "The Crimsonnail."

Seokmin's jaw clenches at the name but it's the disgruntled pastor who continues speaking after a hearty and loud gulp of water. "'Course the Eye of Joshua's gonna send their best two. Soonyoungie's Hoon's eyes 'n ears for these kinda things."

"Or… it could be Jeonghan."

Your noncommittal remark receives Seungcheol's scathing glower. "Bet."

"It wouldn't be the first time," you shrug.

"There haven't been any notable disturbances and the ground's been stable. So hopefully their only goal is to simply antagonize us further."

Antagonize.

A funny word for such a twisted coin game between a hunter and the hunted. You can't and don't blame the younger Bernardelli agent — only you were privy to most of the true horrors Seokmin dealt with behind the scenes, Seungcheol a close second. And because of that, you were usually the one at his side before an encounter with Jihoon and the ever lingering threat and terror of said man's monstrous power.

But today, you get up from the table without so much as a glance in his direction. Only a parting command of "Let's regroup near the entrance at high noon," while Seungkwan and Mingyu exchange looks of minor distress.

The black-haired man in his hangover blues obnoxiously blows a raspberry as you leave.

Later, there are two solid knocks on the door as you get ready. You know who it is before the door swings open after your agreeable hum to enter. Many may be intimidated at the sight of the silver weapon in your gloved hands. Seungkwan and Mingyu make up half of the quartet who aren't.

They take a seat on the bed as you purse your lips at the reflection in the dusty mirror. Then you fuss with the strap for your gun. Satisfyingly re-securing it around your thigh before throwing a carmine trench coat over tight kevlar that covers almost every inch of skin possible.

"Surprised you didn't dye everything else black during a fit of rage."

Your lips curl upwards. "How on Gunsmoke would I manage that?"

"With the way you're acting, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…' or so the saying goes."

"Really, 'Kwan?"

"I'm an avid supporter of women's rights and especially their wrongs."

"Sure you are."

"You would absolutely look dashing!"

"Thanks, Mingyu. Should've given my color scheme a little more consideration."

"But then you wouldn't have achieved such an infamous moniker. I mean, okay. Maybe the black plague killed tons of Earthlings eons ago but it doesn't have the same ring as 'Sirocco, the bloody rain that follows after the humanoid typhoon'…"

Seungkwan allegedly graduated at the top of his class, leave it to him to spew out all kinds of random facts that you know nothing about. You huff and adjust the brim of the large hat atop your head.

"All that does is make me cringe."

"Uh-huh, so what's making him act like that?"

"Who's acting like what?"

"Fine, keep playing dumb. Did you reject Seokmin or something?"

Mingyu gasps. Dramatically. Hands on cheeks and mouth open in a wide 'o' shape, puppy-dog eyes glistening with despair.

"There's no way!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, nothing happened so don't think you're gonna wheedle out of me whether you're going to win that stupid bet you two have going with Choi."

"Eh, don't worry. I've been out of the running for a while now, unfortunately."

"The hell did you even throw for?"

He shoots you a deadpan look. "Guess who's aged eighty years watching the two of you dance around each other like dumbasses? Could've sworn you'd be married with a toma farm or a dozen little children by now."

"It's your own damn fault for falling victim to that pastor's salacious schemes. And it's not even remotely like that, so…"

"Someone just doesn't wanna give in."

You stomp your foot, frustration boiling over. "Ugh, I'm never drinking again!"

"Wait… No fucking way…!"

"Literally shut up, Boo."

"I mean Choi did bet you'd confess and you know… get intimate afterwards… if you were drunk so…"

"Oh, so that's why he was so damn pushy last night."

"Dirty cheater."

"You expect anything less from someone like him?"

A sigh. "No."

It's a well-known fact that Seungcheol would rather stoke the flames of hell than ever needlessly dabble with holy water as one might be expected to with his chosen career.

"But judging by both of your moods, evidently nothing happened." The raven-haired man really has the gall to look disappointed that no one won yet pleased Seungcheol didn't, and the gall to point out the obvious. "Anyways, what did you bet on, Mingyu?"

"Don't recall!"

"Figures." Seungkwan's face falls flat against his palm with a groan before dragging it wearily down his face. "Whatever, it's not like it's that serious. Seriously," he adds on, feeling the burn of your perpetual glower. "Don't let it weigh on your mind. We need you fully focused."

"And when have I ever been less than what's expected of me?" You hold up a hand. "Wait! Don't answer. But really, worry more about that idiot."

"Aw, see? You still care!"

"… About that sixty billion bounty, Mingyu? Yeah."

"Sure you do."

"And truthfully, I was talking about Choi, 'Kwan."

"Well, both of them always get into those zany headspaces!"

You shrug at the tall man's truthfulness. "They're both holding a lot of trauma and baggage."

"And you aren't?" Seungkwan snorts with sarcasm dripping from the dig.

"At least mine's manageable. And… hasn't threatened your lives yet."

"As far as we know."

"In fact, I think I've saved your 'so-very-untraumatized' lives more often than not. Stay with me and you'll both be okay."

They good-naturedly give you individual looks of disdain. Perfectly in sync when you accompany that last statement with a devilish smirk and a twirl that flares out your tail coat with a flourish. By no means are they incapable. Clumsy Mingyu can adeptly wield his massive concussion gun when it counts, of course, and Seungkwan stealthily hides several derringer 'throwaway' pistols under his white cloak that he can fire with deadly precision.

Nonetheless, they loyally flank to your side when Tonim's bell tower signifies the hour of high noon has struck. Seungcheol meets the three of you outside the door of the saloon, smoking a cigarette and one arm lazily draped over the Punisher — a terrifying machine gun mockingly designed in the burdening shape of a merciful cross.

You spot Seokmin up ahead. He's standing on the low border wall near the town's entrance, perched next to a pillar for back support with the heel of his boot propped up behind him. Decked out in the usual galaxy ensemble, purple fabric cut off at shoulder-length of the top left sleeve to allow free range of movement for his prosthesis. His hair's slightly gelled up for a more intimidating and dramatic flair and it almost makes you giggle.

But there's that stern gaze focused on the horizon, likely able to see far out into the distance through those amber lenses the human eye can't quite decipher. Despite such a hardened resolve, his head tilts slightly up toward the blue sky with a faint smile on his lips — an honoring appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life despite its inevitable horrors.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue to get your attention while Seungkwan and Mingyu keep walking ahead. "Spiky Hair thinks he's really gonna do it?"

"Won't stop until he's tried every last resort."

"Even if it kills 'im?"

"Even if it kills him."

"This damned situation 'cause of ya know who."

"Dokyeom. DK."

"Nah, nah. There's the asinine version, eh?"

"Absolute pain in my ass?"

He slaps his knee. "Ah, aye… good one! But nah, 's really stupid one, Deathly, uh, er…?"

"… Deadly Knives?"

"Pfft, yeah, 's that one. So, we gotta try 'n stop one genocidal brother from sweepin' out the whole human race 'n tryna convince greedy humans not to keep exploitin' 'em with the other. Back 'n forth again 'n again. I swear…'s only ever gonna be impossible."

"What makes you think it can't happen?"

He looks at you like you're stupid. Maybe you are. But what does that make him? "Both sides — humans versus DK — think they're right 'n too proud to think otherwise."

"So you don't think they'll settle for a compromise. Or at least try to see the other's viewpoint?"

"Hell naw. Ain't no compromisin' when both think they're justified in what they're doin'."

"Well, regardless — you joined a good cause, Choi. World could use a little more peace and love, don't you think?"

He grunts. "Lookit who's corrupted yer ideologies. Don'tcha know what destroyed Earth?"

"And do you know what saved humans? Kindness. Hope. Empathy. Compassion. Change. Making and being the difference. The good kind."

A long time ago, maybe in a different twist of fate, you might've staunchly agreed with Seungcheol. But despite it all, you've been somewhat changed — or like the pastor said, call it a corruption of sorts — by Seokmin's unwavering sense of positivity and kindness no matter how bleak the future.

You admired him. Truly.

"Un-fuckin'-'lievable."

Seungcheol shakes his head as if he's not gearing up, ready and raring to go as he stomps forward to join a fellow 'brother-in-arms'. The thought inwardly makes you smile with affection until you remember you're actually, in fact, mad at Seokmin.

A dust cloud stirs up on the horizon, steadily growing closer to where you stand.

"You're so full of goddamn self-flagellation."

The individual where all your ire is centered on jolts, doing a double-take at your sudden but familiar presence by his side approaching. Or maybe it was the mere fact you were talking to him again. A warm expression overtakes his facial features at the sense of calm that automatically relaxes the tension in his muscles as he looks down at you.

"Well then, hello to you too. Feeling better, mayfly?"

"… Remind me to never drink again."

"I told you —"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave away his nagging and step up on the wall to stand next to him. "Don't worry, I won't be making a mistake like that again."

"… Mistake?"

There's an edge to his tone. Searching. Sometimes you hate how perceptive Seokmin can be. Though he actively acts oblivious and carefree, it's usually a ploy to lower other's guard.

You wonder how long he's known.

So, you sigh. "I'm talking about drinking, of course. And… I wish I could say I forgot even if… I haven't. But it's fine, I know where I stand."

The latter part of your sentence trails off. It's true though. You do know — thankful you can even be next to Seokmin. You might not be with him but at the very least, your place will always be somewhere by his side. Affectionate flings may be sought elsewhere. But they're always temporary. In your heart of hearts, you know you're irreplaceable to him.

And that's going to have to be good enough for you.

The man in question scratches the back of his head. "It's not… it's not like that. I know I fucked up."

"Stop." You grip at his prosthetic, knowing despite how sensitive the sensors are, they won't be able to pick up how you slightly tremble. "It's okay. Really."

Who is it you're trying to reassure?

"Mayfly," Seokmin murmurs. "Look at me."

With the slightest hesitation, your gaze finally rises from its focal point centered on his boots and the stones beneath to meet dark brown eyes. The ache in the gunslinger's chest eases just a little. It's been far too long — a day, in actuality — since he's got to lose himself among the vibrant hues of your irises and he squeezes your free hand in gratitude.

"It's not okay, I want to talk to you. Sober. But…"

"I get it. Now's not the time for a heart-to-heart, especially not in front of your brother's henchmen."

You laugh, for real this time. The sight is breathtaking; it makes Seokmin's eyes crinkle, a fond smile to accompany his affection as he leans in closer to you to whisper a sweet, "Thank you."

Three sets of eyes try to make it very not obvious that they're very obviously totally not watching the overdue interaction with bated breath.

"Oh golly good, they've made up!"

"'Course they would."

"It's about time, I couldn't take the tension anymore."

"Don'tcha think it'll get worse once they start canoodlin'?"

"Good lord," Seungkwan groans, "perish the thought."

"What's wrong with a little love? Yay for love!"

"Well, I don't think they've made it that far yet. But we're getting there. Baby steps."

It would be a good cause for celebration, a resumption of last night's festivities. Unfortunately, the merry moment is cut short with a screech of brakes, signaling the arrival of Jihoon, DK's most elite performer in his unmerry band of henchmen.

Next to the feared Crimsonnail's suitcase sits Soonyoung the Beast. Silver strands peek out behind the unsettling, bug-like circular mask hiding his face. He casually waves, acting like the unnerving discovery behind the innocent, abandoned child — who went by Hoshi — was simply a facade initially put on around your group and not such a grand revelation.

Having sorted that out in the stomach of a giant flying worm serving as a hive mind for Gunsmoke's legion of its original inhabitants and swearing not to let your guard down again, all five of you remain on high alert.

Jihoon's steel-colored eyes flicker to Seungcheol. "Hello there, Undertaker. Or… should I say Judas?"

"Howdy dandy to ya too, ya son of a bitch," the pastor snarls, spitting his cigarette in their direction. Cursing under his breath when the distance and uselessness of the fizzling stub doesn't blow up the engine like he wishes it would.

"Now, now. You don't want to make me mad, do you?"

"Kinda wanna piss ya off as much as ya piss me off, yeah."

"Surely you know what —"

"He means nothing by it." You'd quickly abandoned your post next to Seokmin to place a hand on Seungcheol's taut shoulder. Boldly facing the blonde man's haughty expression with one that's hopefully placating enough on behalf of your comrade. "He's just grumpy because he's still hungover."

"Well, well… if it isn't the humanoid typhoon's little blood shower."

Ugh, you inwardly grimace, why the fuck does everyone have such unflattering nicknames for me?

"Still following him around, I see."

"'S a lot comin' from —"

" — Hasn't gotten rid of me yet!"

"… Seems it," Jihoon sniffs and cocks his head. "Similar to the dilemma I have with this persistent bug."

Soonyoung chortles, neck contorting at an unnatural angle to peer at the driver. "You love me."

"You're delusional."

"Why are you here?"

Seokmin's question comes sharp and pointed like a dagger, a far cry from his usual demeanor. His tone remains detached. Aloof. Vaguely accusatory. Unlike your harried action to cover for Seungcheol, you don't dare divert attention away from the gunslinger who stalks forward after elegantly hopping down from his perch. Despite an outwardly calm demeanor, there's an underlying urgency in his gait that's threatening to snap.

"For amusement. A show, if you will."

"One that's not even orchestrated by Joshua's freakish cult powers!"

Out of all the males surrounding you, you're not sure exactly who growls at the Beast's mere mention of the devil-like figurehead — in fact, it could've been all of them — but there's one noise that rings out above the din of it all.

Click!

You don't need super-hearing to pick up that telltale sound. Not when every person over the age of eighteen in Tonim has a cocked gun trained on each member of your ragtag gang.

"Uh, so… how many times is this?"

"One too fuckin' many," you answer Seungkwan with a petulant hiss and reluctantly mimic him by putting your hands up in the air.

Jihoon cackles. "And when will you fools ever learn?"

"'S my question, actually," the pastor nonchalantly calls over his shoulder, directed at the town's ringleader. "Didn't know ya had it in ya, boy."

You didn't think Wonwoo had it in him either, to be honest. But that's not something you were going to mention aloud with the shaky hold the bespectacled man has on the firearm waveringly aimed at his target — the one whose head is worth a 60 billion double dollars bounty, dead or alive.

"Felnarl. Jeneora Rock. Descartes. Dankin."

There's a faint twitch in one of Seokmin's eyebrows. Seungcheol rolls his eyes, sarcastically muttering under his breath an addition of location names, "Voldoor, Inepril, December, Lewiston…" and Mingyu joins in on the fun with a cheerful, "New Miami!"

Seungkwan watches warily and your jaw clenches. You can feel your teeth grind together in annoyance as Wonwoo's smarmy sneer grows smugger.

"And now, Tonim Town. What?" he jeers, seizing the chance to use the man's silence as a way to ridicule him. "Don't recognize what you've laid waste to? Must I bring up the big ones to jog your memory a little, like the city of July and Augusta or the hole in the fifth moon?"

"Why you —"

Enragement propels you a step forward, but the barrel swinging your way halts your next move mid-step. The sullen look on Wonwoo's face surprisingly holds no malice. He looks saddened, if anything, but you can't bring yourself to feel too much sympathy with the rifle he's now pointed toward you.

"You forgot one."

"Pardon?"

Seokmin's voice is hardly more than a whisper yet it rings out loud and clear amid the tense silence and stillness. "I said, you forgot one. There's not a name of any place or person I'd ever forget. I'm well aware of the ones you're talking about… and more. However, there's somewhere I won't ever forget that no one will ever know existed."

"… Huh?"

"Little Ivywood."

Wonwoo seems so taken aback and the pause unwittingly allows your eyes to drift over to meet Seokmin's brown ones. There are so many emotions conveyed in the sidelong glance — a mixture of regret-filled feelings yet ever so soft — and it lasts a second too long to snap the befuddled aggressor out of his reverie.

"Oh… I see." He pushes up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the pale sunlight like a typical anime villain. The long gun lowers to the ground the same time as he throws back his head to let out a bitter laugh. "So that's how it is! All you do is take and take and take, Lee. Destroy, destroy, destroy; again and again and again!"

"Aye, ole chap's gone off his rocker."

"You've made an ally out of a would-be, should-be enemy and think other victims with their pain and grief don't exist?!"

"Wow," Seungkwan wrinkles his nose in disgust, "yeah… he's gone completely insane."

Mingyu hums in agreement. "A little unhinged! Off the rocks! Unstable even! When can I knock him out?"

You'd love to give the gentle giant the go-ahead. Really. But even so…

"Damn you —"

"Stop it."

The townspeople's uncertainty and hesitance tells you all you need to know, especially when Wonwoo's hysteria leaves them even more perplexed. After years of handling a gun like a second arm, you can spot inexperience and fear of handling a dangerous weapon the second someone is near one. You lower your arms and step forward once more, confidence growing when he makes no move to threaten you further.

"You don't want this."

The corner of his mouth quirks upward, a rueful smile. "You know, I thought we really did share some camaraderie."

"We do."

"Yet you gallivant around with a monster like that?"

"He's not a monster."

"I should've known better, really, when the VERnons said you're the sirocco that follows after the humanoid typhoon. Heroes, my ass! I don't get it, how could you do that to others after what happened to you?"

To us?

It remains unspoken yet you can hear the intent of the accusingly barbed question. Two survivors of a wrecked hometown. Shared camaraderie hadn't been a lie. Even now as you meet the flickering fire in Wonwoo's eyes with a blazing flame in your own, all you can see is a reflection of your past and what you could've turned into in a possible future.

A cold gleam returns to his gaze as he takes your silence as defiance. Or maybe even shamelessness. "How could you turn a blind eye to such a bloody warpath of destruction when you know too well of the tragedy that's left behind?!"

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

"… Excuse me?"

"That's what all of you are doing right now," you declare loudly and some of Tonim's residents whose conscience stings have the decency to avert their eyes. Awareness of their actions seem to weigh down on them, guns lowering ever the slightest and the awkwardness encourages Seungkwan to speak up.

"We would've left peacefully tomorrow."

"But yer actions're gonna be the very cause of the destruction yer tryin' so damn hard to prevent."

"Because you took a bribe!"

There's a stilted, horrified, and collective gasp, so you try to remedy Mingyu's exclamation.

"It's because you let your malice sway you. Tell me, Jeon. What all did you lose?"

"My whole town. Then my parents. Almost my life and nearly Lina's too. My lover…"

"And your sense of self. Plus, the new life you've created here — and those things? Almost lost because of your own accord. Why would you destroy the few good things you're granted?"

Wonwoo's eyebrows scrunch as his face tenses. Your heart goes out to him despite everything, hoping to get your point across as you continue speaking.

"That doesn't negate the losses. The grief. The pain. It never goes away but… you can choose to clean out the wound, put some salve on it, and bandage it or let it fester and infect your body 'til it rots even your soul."

You can hear the shift in the sand as Seokmin approaches to stand next to you. He regards Wonwoo with a kind smile and the understanding, crescent-shaped squint of his eyes is like a punch to the other man's gut.

"…. I —"

" — It's your choice, Jeon. What did they offer you? Money? There are so many bets on July's militia lying about the payout. I mean, c'mon, there's no way a ruined city would have the funds."

"Yer Plant's no longer in red status, so ya won't need to barter no more."

"I'll throw in a better deal — let us go and I'll have Choi marry you and Sherry, free of charge."

His cheeks flush and you inwardly gloat, instincts right on the money. Seungcheol's jaw drops, absolutely flabbergasted, and the townsfolk exchange a few knowing snickers.

"If it's protection you need, we can figure that out too," Seokmin recovers and offers in a low voice. "And if Do — er, Knives — or his gang approached you with a deal, just know that they never hold up their end of the bargain."

"You're lucky you threatened us first. DK's side is a little too slash-happy and trigger-loving to resort to verbal methods. They're the ones you'd want to go after anyways, you see, this man and Knives are twins if you don't look close enough, they're eerily similar at the strangest moments. So the real story is that it's all just spiraled out of control."

"You mean…"

"I won't deny responsibility." Seokmin admits sternly. "It's true that I've wreaked devastation to many towns. Failed to save the people I swore to protect."

"But DK keeps forcing his hand to get Seok to join his genocidal cause. And every time he refuses to do so, his brother throws a tantrum and well, knives go flying everywhere. Literally."

"He's a little…" The gunslinger searches for the right word — and finding that there is none — cringes. "Dramatic."

You stare at him, aghast. "He cut your arm off!"

Wonwoo pales, swallows, and then grimaces, daring to ask, "So… I've had it wrong the whole time?"

"I guess not entirely." You shrug, also guilty as charged years ago. "And obviously not the first."

"And certainly not the last," Seungkwan pipes up.

The bespectacled man looks down at the ground. "I don't… I don't know… Do I even deserve this kind of treatment? This… mercy?"

"No."

With such a blunt answer, Seokmin's quick to protest with an admonishment of your name while Seungkwan and Mingyu suppress smiles at your straightforwardness. Seungcheol freely chuckles, lighting a cigarette.

And Wonwoo's face falls as remorse hits all over again.

"But," you smirk, "what have I told you?"

"Oh, ah… why destroy the few good things life grants me?"

"Good. You were listening. We might get along just fine, after all." You send him a teasing wink. "Camaraderie and all that be damned."

A sheepish look overtakes the man's previously hardened features. And suddenly he's laughing with his head thrown back like earlier, but this time it's with an unrestrained amount of joy. Relief. Hope.

"The ticket to the future is always blank, Wonwoo." Seokmin extends a hand and the other man takes it, the small grin on his face turning into a full-blown smile.

"Guns down, Tonim town. The rest of you, come on out! Let's celebrate!" He calls out to everyone, gesturing for your group to follow. "Drinks are on me to make up for this whole mess. I'm sorry for getting you all involved."

You turn around toward Seokmin, elation written all over your face that he readily mirrors. Just as you're about to grab his hand as he reaches out at the same time, there's a slow, loud handclap that sets off mental warning sirens blaring all over again.

"Conflict resolution. How very touching."

The velvety voice is deceivingly sweet. But beneath the dulcet tones lies a raw and wicked strength. It rings out clearly, even more so when the jubilant mood abruptly dies down as a new figure approaches.

"Aw, c'mon Joshie! Just when it was gettin' good!" Soonyoung whines and you belatedly realize you forgot all about the real enemies at the entrance gate, thinking they had grown bored and left.

"What about that was 'getting good'?"

The Beast huffs at Jihoon's surly attitude, more than likely pouting beneath his mask. "Was really lookin' forward to those free drinks…"

"We don't need drinks and we don't need you, Josh."

If there's one commonality between the adversary and your group, it's the shared disdain for the elegant-looking man dressed in all black fabrics with shiny leather buckles, and slicked-back locks to match.

"Hm. But I think you do."

Chilling ochre-colored eyes couldn't be bothered to look at you, drifting past you and Seokmin like you were nothing more than the grains of sand littering every surface on Gunsmoke. And like a marionette, your head automatically swivels to follow his line of sight, blood draining from your face when you realize what he's looking at.

Lina.

She breaks away from holding onto Sheryl's hand after they emerge from the saloon, bounding toward her brother with excitement all over her face. The arm that isn't supporting his firearm extends gallantly outward, ready to welcome her with a hug as he strolls to meet her halfway.

They're smiling at one another with so much adoration after the intensity from earlier. If you weren't fucking terrified, you'd wish Dokyeom was also there to see how pure a sibling relationship and affection should be.

Instead, your stomach lurches, and Seokmin hisses beside you. With your back turned, you can't see Joshua but you're sure he's smirking when Wonwoo's frame stiffens, body jerking as it moves beyond his control.

Hastily, he's cocking the rifle with expert ease and assuming the perfect position to fire it, something he previously displayed no knowledge on before. Wide eyes have no choice but to peer down the scope and he chokes at how it's unforgivingly aimed directly at his little sister.

She skids to a halt, ten paces away. Hesitant. Wary. Puzzled.

"… Wonu?"

It all plays out in slow motion as you reach for Sirocco, simultaneously screaming out to your friends to alert them and provide cover. Frantic panic swirls in the air like a sandstorm at the turn of events, but even more fear generates when the townspeople can do nothing but helplessly succumb to their limbs moving on their own too.

Despite every single effort and all of his muscles straining not to do it, Wonwoo's pointer finger on the trigger pulls back. It doesn't matter how much he struggles to fight for control, his body refuses to listen. Tears flow from his eyes even though he can't speak, can't yell, can't beg for forgiveness — the vehement sense of horror is the only thing able to overpower Joshua's terrifying control, leaking out a salty excess.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Three gunshots ring out at the same time. You fire right before Wonwoo does and Seokmin follows two seconds later. Not because his reaction time is slower. But because he could see and calculate where the bullet's headed after you changed its trajectory by shooting at Wonwoo's barrel.

It doesn't end there.

Seokmin is a half-step closer to Lina and can move at an inhumane speed, diving into a tuck-and-roll to reach her moments before the residents have no choice but to open fire too.

You know he's fast enough to dodge bullets at close range, but the staggered distance spread out among all of those present in the town's square works little for that insane advantage. Instead, the skilled combatant focuses all his attention on shielding Lina beneath the loose flaps of his impenetrable trench coat. She clings tightly to his leg, whimpering.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you."

Continuing to mutter reassurances, he pats her fluffy brown hair with an unshaking cybernetic palm while the other rapidly points his revolver upwards to deflect a bullet that might've been lucky enough to shatter the bridge of his glasses. Then doing the same to one at five o'clock on his right. He angles his body this way and that as if a puppeteer is yanking the strings connected to his limbs to the perverse beat of an unheard tune. The few he misses land harmlessly against the thick kevlar material you're all wearing.

Meanwhile, your steady hand supports the familiar weight of Sirocco. Muscle memory aids you with cocking the gun as you run. Aiming at the closest group of people near them and then — bang!, bang!, bang! — snipe off the barrels on their guns in rapid succession, rendering them useless.

From behind, something flies past your face and nicks the top of your ear — one of the few places unprotected by bulletproof material — causing you to hiss. Scowling over your shoulder, you squint in the direction it came from.

While a complete bastard, Seungcheol is also the most resourceful ray of hope in a shootout like this. The Punisher's automatic artillery relentlessly fires shot after shot, destroying old and weather-beaten guns like they're empty, crushable soda cans. It's faster too. The trigger-happy pastor twirls it around maniacally, taking only the slightest care to not actually kill anyone.

You're a hundred percent sure it's because of Joshua's disturbing power that allows him to reanimate corpses rather than Seokmin's "Thou shalt not kill" lecture and pacifist philosophies that keeps the supposed 'god-fearing' man from snuffing out anyone's life this time around. Despite the bullets whizzing around, you know he'll fare alright with that healing serum of his — just as long as he doesn't overdose on it.

Mingyu rushes over to stand back-to-back with the pastor, x-shaped claws firing out of his 'stun-gun' and immobilizing many of his targets with ease. You can't help but grimace though, wondering if they'll sustain more brain damage from Joshua's nefarious telepathy or a well-meaning concussion that leaves them unconscious and no longer posing a threat. A solid steel object flies past the brown-haired man's head, knocking down the mind-controlled person who was trying to sneak up on him using a blind spot.

"Ooh, thanks, Seungkwan!"

"Pay attention, you blockhead!"

An empty derringer lays at said blockhead's feet and Mingyu kicks it away with a childlike glee. A brand-new loaded pistol is already in Seungkwan's right hand even as he throws away the one in his left toward someone approaching Seungcheol. The young man's never empty-handed for long because with another flashy twirl from out of his cloak and a new handgun is cocked, aimed, and fired.

Despite the distance and conditions, all three work together like clockwork. Different shaped and sized cogs all interconnected to succeed without causing too much harm. And you know you must play your part as well, turning your attention back to the few townsfolk that remain.

"Seokmin, switch!"

It's not like he needs the heads-up. The way you'd both been inching closer to each other every time your gun's fired already issued the forewarning. It's like a subtle tango performed by two fierce allies surrounded by deadly enemies. If you didn't know better, it's similar to an intricate sword dance.

But you knew how dangerous it was to play with knives.

The swift transfer of Lina's warm little body into your arms is a welcome comfort. Seokmin sends you a dazzling smile, one full of confidence at a successful swap.

"Hey there, pretty girl," you coo and your gloved thumb wipes away one of the tear trails cutting through the dirt smudges on her face. "You are so, so, so brave and I'm so, so, so proud of you."

"He," she sniffles, "my… my… br-brother. W-Wonu!"

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you turn her to face the other way. "Everything's going to fine. I promise. Now, run to Seungcheol. He'll keep you safe while the rest of us finish this."

Seungkwan and Mingyu had effectively disarmed everyone on their end and now worked on dragging the town's unconscious residents inside the saloon and attending to any wounds. The pastor stood guard near the entrance with his Punisher staked firmly into the sandy ground. Although empty of ammunition, the machine gun still served a purpose as a great defender with its imposing cross shape.

With the target assuredly safe — out of sight, out of mind — the control Joshua has over those remaining falters and starts to lose its effect. In the brief lull, Seokmin dashes ahead to deliver a flying kick that helpfully unsheathes the dagger hidden in the sole of his boots, demolishing one more firearm in someone's grip before it can be used again.

Bang!

Bang!

And with Sirocco's precision, the last two are destroyed as well. You match your comrade's grin and turn triumphantly to where the instigators still stand at the entrance.

There would be no casualties today. You and your comrades would make sure of that.

Joshua, stoic as ever, surveys the aftermath with an air of unbothered gracefulness. Jihoon fumes next to him. Panic spikes when Soonyoung can't be spotted at first until you spy him curled up in the car's front seat — asleep.

You fist bump Seokmin in high spirits. Then fearlessly meet a pair of deep orange eyes devoid of any emotion or warmth, a shift occurs in your smile. Confidence and satisfaction hone the corners of your mouth into a daring smirk and something about the bold taunt causes a rare flicker of humor to cross Joshua's lips. Whether it's scornful pity or simple mockery, you don't have time to figure it out because Jihoon snaps.

Nails.

Several of them fly through the air and their wielder's formidable namesake comes from the daunting color that makes the multitude of piercers look like thin streaks of blood against the pale blue sky. The spikes as long as spears are all fired from Jihoon's large suitcase-turned-crossbow that aims just shy of your left side.

Those steel eyes of his are as sharp as their color. The malice within them feels suffocating, so strong and heavy that it sucks all the breath straight out of your lungs. Only the pain from a nail grazing your cheek is enough to pull your attention away from drowning in the unnerving emotion and you put a hand up to the laceration to soothe the sting.

Wetness oozes from your skin, an unsettling feeling of sliminess accompanying the touch. Puzzled, your fingers retract and you ponder the sheer amount of red viscoelastic fluid coating them. There's so much of it pooling that droplets fall to the sand below while others dribble down past your wrist and under your sleeve, the stain blending right in with the fabric of your coat.

Drip.

"It's all your fault!"

Drip.

"Their blood is on your hands…"

Drip.

"Don't you feel guilty?"

Drip.

"Don't you feel responsible?"

Drip.

"Do you regret being the only one left to live?"

Drip.

Faces you know and voices you cannot recall overlap and echo. Unfamiliar frowning expressions and intonations you remember as once gentle now ridicule, belittle, and find every crack in your well-made armor. Insidious whispers weave inside, entangling themselves within the fragile support structures of your mind and very soul. They point and cackle to one another at such a sorry sight, only for you to realize you're angrily jabbing a pointer finger at your worthless reflection with those cursory words coming straight out of your own mouth.

Drip.

Your head turns robotically, like an early prototype of the lost technology Earthlings created. This time it's Sheryl who's the victim, helplessly well within the trajectory line of Jihoon's rage. Every muscle aches, weighed down by exhaustion. Your shoulder burns. Yet you still somehow find the strength within you to rush toward her, especially hearing Lina's desperate wail as she's held back by a grimacing Seungcheol.

Drip.

Like a comet, Seokmin blazes past. He skids to a stop, effectively shielding the woman right before impact. You're too slow to move. In fact, it feels like an out-of-body experience. As if you're nothing but a hologram inside the floating ship — an artificial intelligence projection with no other choice but to witness the horrors and observe tangible objects scuttle towards their inevitable doom without interference. You're left with no choice but to simply watch as the nails are propelled through the air with the intent to strike.

Drip.

Someone's screaming. Maybe it's you.

Drip.

The nails impale Seokmin without mercy. Strike after strike, they pierce straight through the material of his coat designed to repel only bullets and plunge deep within the muscles beneath his skin. One after the other. So many of them stick out of the man's backside like the skeletal bone formation for wings. He slumps to his knees, falling on top of a bewildered but unharmed Sheryl. When he only lays still with no further action, you're struck with the dreadful knowledge that he may never move again and it fills you with an unfathomable maelstrom of raw grief and anger.

Drip.

Suddenly, you're no longer drowning in invisible quicksand and can move freely again. There's zero hesitation in your now fluid movements — not even when the blond-haired man poises his crossbow directly at you this time. Pulling out the spare gun hidden near your hip, you blast the airborne spikes flying towards you without hesitation.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

More fall than you shoot. The anger, pain, and grief you wield is enough to tear them apart like they're nothing but worm larvae helplessly caught in a sandstorm. You stalk forward through the crimson ire that relentlessly strikes down, clearing a path that's littered with broken, twisted, and dented nails before resolutely aiming point-blank at Jihoon's forehead.

Click.

More people are screaming and the spiteful cacophony in your mind resumes. But your ears feel like they're filled with cotton and this time you're stuck underwater. Your chest rises and falls, trying and failing to collect yourself.

"… out of it!"

"Hyperventialing -"

"Goddamn it! Get ahold o'yerself, woman!"

The Crimsonnail sneers.

Your cheek stings.

The dissonance reminds you of the wound from before. But this time it feels like a sting, as if someone slapped you — albeit rather gently. Numb, you halt in place and cautiously raise your hand back to your surprisingly unmarred face. But rather than skin, you grasp onto something solid. Something familiar. Something kind. Something loving. Something safe. Something warm. Something that's yours — always has been and always will be.

Someone.

And then… you open your eyes — and find yourself staring directly into Seokmin's sparkling brown ones.

"Y-you're dead," you manage to choke out in disbelief and his eyes incredulously crinkle into half-moons at the statement to hide the tears brimming in them.

The soothing hand caressing your cheek moves to wrap around the barrel of the gun you're pressing to his forehead and he smiles disarmingly. As if what you just said was the funniest thing ever.

"I know, mayfly."

Part 2 | Read the whole thing on AO3

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

[the-kr8tor]

Sailing Close to the Wind

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.2k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mention, CW violence, TW injury.

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CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

Trousers, oh you'd love to kiss the person who invented trousers. You can't climb a mast with heavy cotton skirts especially without anyone below getting a full look at what's under it. Not to mention how comfortable it is, granted it's technically not your trousers, it's a bit big on the waist so you have to use a rope and some type of knot that James taught you. The cotton shirt and lambskin vest makes you look like an honest to god pirate, you fit right in, if only you could get up on the perch without falling.

The wind is breezing by you as you find leverage with your foot on the iron footholds, your hands are clammy, eyes strained against the sun and wind. The height thrills you, reminding you of the time when you used to jump all-over roofs to escape coppers.

“Hurry up, gorgeous! I'm bleeding up here!” Yuri screams from the top, showing you her so-called injury on her palm. It's bleeding, yes but it definitely does not need any stitching.

You swear she's messing with you. Training you perhaps? But it wouldn't matter as you won't stay on the revenge for too long. According to Miles, land is close, a couple of days at most. You secretly hope it's more than two, you're liking your stay on Hobie's ship, dare you say you're quite fond of having the crew around. Minus all the rival pirates and navy ships attacking the revenge, maybe you'll love it more here if those events don't happen on a daily basis.

There's a sense of security on the ship or maybe you're just beginning to get used to the routine and you just don't want the routine to get derailed by leaving the ship.

Even with all the dangers of staying on a pirate ship, you'd like to stay a few more days on it.

Your mind flies back during the crew meeting a week ago while you're slowly making your way up towards the crow’s nest. You can still feel everyone's eyes on you but you've only got your eyes clocked on to Hobie's intense look, he's determined, lips curling into a smirk as he says your name in front of the crew.

“Lastly, we're gonna need scuttlebutt, she's the only person not known to the navy in the colony.” Hobie's voice tells the crew but his gaze stays on you.

“She'll be our distraction then?” Ned asks.

You suddenly feel sweaty in front of everyone's eyes.

“Aye, we've already discussed her part. She knows what she's gonna do.” He stares at you intently, addressing you only. “After that you can finally get back on land.” You nod, slowly. Hobie finally looks away from you, speaking to the crew.

“Everyone else just needs to follow her lead. This isn't your first heist, you all know how to work with each other, keep up with the plan and we'll get the documents we need.”

“Remember, distraction,” Gwen glances at you briefly, “no guns inside, we get in the governor's office, get the plans, we get in and we get out quick.” Gwen speaks up from Hobie's right, her tone is serious, the low lamps swaying in the ship's movement makes shadows dance on her face.

“After that a round in the tavern, right?!” Two-fingers shout from the corner, most of the crew cheers with him.

“If we do everything right.” To everyone's dismay, Hobie corrects the cheering crew.

Yuri faces Hobie with a stern look. “Then after that we get the bastard, we get our bloody revenge, and then we're done.” you feel the tension filling the cramped space. “We go back to what we used to do.” Hobie observes her quietly, “The sea is calling and we better fucking answer, am I right cap'n?”

Hobie inhales, you could only get a glimpse of his anger flash across his face. “Then we answer the call”

The sudden rhythmic stomping from the crew makes you jump, Pavitr turns to you, whispering close. “So you've already discussed it with the captain, huh?” he wiggles his brows.

“Really, Pav?”

He continues to wiggle his eyebrows that are weirdly flexible. “Is that all you've discussed? Orrrr” You roll your eyes.

“Pav?”

“Yeah?”

“Go jump overboard”

“If that will get you to stay then I will jump overboard.” He happily says, skipping away from you.

“Wait what—?”

Yuri reaches down, flexing her ringed fingers for you. “C’mon landlubber, I'll help you up before the wind takes you.” her voice brings you back to reality.

You take her hand, “Thanks, how did I do?”

“You climb like my old hamster. Very cute but not very fast.” Heaving you up, you finally reach the bird's nest.

The circular space is filled with random stuff hanging from the banisters. A sextant hangs on a ribbon on your right, an old telescope swings in the wind, hitting your shin. The basket of yarn sits by your feet, a pair of knitting needles lay next to it.

“Thanks?” you look around and the view takes your breath away, the sun shines brightly painting the open water in watercolor light. There's nothing but blue as far as your eyes could see, you've never felt tinier in your entire life.

Waves heading in different directions, seagulls circling above the ship, providing a chorus of unending squawking.

“You're welcome, pretty.” She sits down on a tiny stool, palm up. “Before I bleed out.”

You chuckle. “You're not gonna bleed out,” taking a bandage and ointment from your handy dandy trouser pocket, you squat in front of Yuri. “It's just a scratch, and here I thought pirates are all tough.”

“Am I a pirate? Haven't felt like it recently.”

You look up at her, pausing from treating her wound. “What do you mean by that? Of course you're a pirate.”

“You look like a pirate too, Y/N, but logically speaking, you're not one of us.”

“Touché” you continue to bandage her hand, there's a sudden weight in your chest. “And here I thought you're not a pirate?” You throw back her own words.

She laughs, the sound akin to tiny bells twinkling. “Oh I'm gonna miss you and your wit.”

You smile genuinely, “and my medical prowess too?”

“That and more, doc.”

“Yuri, can I ask you a question before I inevitably leave?”

She stretches her hand, trying out the bandages. “Finally!” You jump slightly. “And here I thought you would pass asking me all your incessant questions.”

“Am I that annoying?”

“Oh no you're not, don't worry, darling. We're just not used to having new comers, the last time we had one was a while ago. And that was Danny, bleh.”

“Great, and here I thought everyone hates it when I ask questions.”

“They do,” you blink, “but if they ever complain they get a stare down from Gwen so they let you be curious.”

You bite back a laugh.

Yuri crosses a leg over the other. “So what is your question? I'm dying to know.”

You clear your throat. “During the meeting–?”

“Ah that!” She leans on the railing, shoulders relaxed, face facing the sun as it bathes her in sunlight. “The whole revenge thing has put a stop to our usual…” Yuri thinks of an appropriate word. “Adventures, that's why I just want it done and over with. Three years chasing the king's flame is too long, don't you think?”

“The king's flame?” You try to recall his real name that you've read a few times in the newspaper. “Captain Mathias something something.”

“Oh he's something alright, got our captain's knickers in a bunch for three straight boring years.” She pauses to look at you through her eyelashes. “I hate the wanker as much as the crew but my god I just want to bring him down as soon as possible.”

Sighing, she squeezes the bridge of her nose. “The navy attack was a blessing in disguise I suppose, if not for the lieutenant singing we wouldn't get the information about his little travel directory.”

You nod. “You just want to go back to pirating, I get it now.”

She hums. “That's why I like you so much”

You look away embarrassed, clearing your throat, you continue. “About the whole revenge thing? Everyone dances around it every time I ask and—”

“Maybe you'll find out if you stay long enough.” She smiles, a genuine one without a hint of flirting. “We need you y’know.”

“I know but I've got my own path to follow.”

“Screw following your path!” She waves you away, clicking her tongue. You frown at her. “I know you're starting to like it here. Look, I'm not opposed to you staying, I haven't seen this crew this healthy in a loooong while. Not to mention, Hobie bounced back real quick after all the attacks. Morale is at an all time high.”

“Only because he had less to worry about, like the crew dying of infection and disease.” you scoff.

“No, it's the opposite, he has more to worry about.”

You quirk a brow questioningly.

“You're asking the wrong questions, doc.”

“And what questions should I ask then?”

“Why did the hellion flee? They clearly had us, they just had to sail to us, back up the smaller ship but they didn't, they stayed behind, watching.”

You blink slowly, contemplating. “This didn't come up during the meeting. Have you told Hobie?”

“Of course I have and he reacts the same way every time I express my concerns about his revenge plan.” She shakes her head. “Fuckin’ indifferent.”

“I can tell him, maybe he'll listen.”

Yuri gives you a look, a neat eyebrow raised, lips straight. “Please, he might actually throw you overboard this time. We've tried that, love, trust me nothing's holding him back. He'll only stop once he gets his hands on the captain and I don't think even death itself will stop him either.”

“What did the navy do to him to warrant that?”

“Y’know what,” she stands up, stretching her back. “Go back down to the deck, Hobie's been staring at us for a while and I think his iris is burned from staring too close to the sun for too long.”

Sure enough, you look down to see Hobie knocking on the wooden mast, the sound reverberates upwards. He looks tinier from up where you are.

“Come down here and make yourself useful!” his hands are cupped around his mouth, yelling out.

Staring back at Yuri, she busies herself with her knitting, crafting a dark blue scarf. She waves you off wordlessly, eyes trained on her craft.

You climb down carefully, making sure your foot has leverage and your hands properly holding onto the steel bars.

Your mind filters through more questions, why would the crew not just answer you directly? Why does everyone compare you to the mysterious MJ? What is up with Hobie and the navy—?

A strong gust of wind suddenly blows past. With your hands slipping off the metal, feet unhooking from the foothold, you fall. Barely letting out a sound, you close your eyes, bracing for impact.

But you don't land on the floor with a harsh splat, instead you feel strong arms enveloping you, a hand gripping onto your thighs tightly, fingers spread across your shoulder, holding and tender on your skin.

“Fuckin' hell!” You hear someone yell.

Cracking an eye open, you see Hobie's furrowed brows, chest heaving. After seeing you alright, his face morphs into the most smug look you've ever seen. His lips curling into a smirk, eyes crinkling in the corners, dimples in full display. With his eyes full of wordless teasing, he opens his mouth with confidence.

“Got you fallin’ for me now, hmm?” The sun shines behind him, giving him a heavenly halo above his head. You swear you want to punch it off his face.

Shoving yourself off his arms, he drops you unceremoniously, you land on your behind with an ‘oomph’. Hobie looks down at you with a growing smile, hands tucked in his pants, his casual shirt dances with the wind, giving you a full show of his exposed chest. You sneer at him, wanting to tug the strings on his shirt to close it and maybe strangle him with it.

“A thank you would be great” He snickers, “saved your life a few times now. We should have a board here that tallies it all down.”

You stand up, pretending to dust yourself off but in truth, your tailbone hurts. “I fell from six feet, I would've survived, thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome, scuttlebutt” you can't believe it but he still manages to irk you.

Sucking in your teeth, you exhale, letting out your frustrations through it lest you get thrown overboard by the captain himself.

“What do you want, Hobie?”

“It's captain to you.”

“Captain” you say with gritted teeth, eyes searing holes into his shirt.

“That's better, I need help with tying the sail down. The others are unfortunately busy”

You raise an eyebrow, “why don't you do it yourself?”

“The wind’s too strong, I need someone to hold the ropes.” Hobie points at the large flapping ropes tied around the main mast, it could take someone's eye out with how wild it's moving around.

“Fine”

—

You're practically hugging the entire mast, making sure the numerous ropes stay close to the wood, the hemp ropes slap you across the face while another gust of sea wind passes through you, fluttering your lashes. You're glad that you're wearing trousers instead of the usual long skirt.

Hobie wrangles the wild cords. You can't see him but based on all the groaning and frustrated grunts, the ropes seem to be winning.

“Alright, got this one tied—fuck!” You hear a slapping sound against cloth. Silently chuckling, you'd give anything to have seen that just now.

“Hand me the next one!” He yells atop the rushing wind. You blindly take a single rope, handing it to Hobie's side.

Waves crash on the side of the ship, rocking you back and forth. Good thing you're already holding on to something strong.

He grabs it, his hands grazing your palms. It's warm, warmer than you thought it would be, you feel his calluses and all the history around it.

This continues on until you're only holding onto one rope, you've practically memorized every indent and lines on his hands and palms. Hobie ties the last rope on the steel hooks, the muscles in his arms doing all the work, sweat drips on his chest, following it with your eyes. it's like seeing a carriage crash, you can't look away.

“Fuckin' hell” you fling your eyes away when you hear his tired voice, looking at anything else other than him.

You're glad no one's looking your way.

The wind whips your warm cheeks, incredibly thankful to mother nature, you look back at Hobie, avoiding his sweat covered chest.

“Last one, scuttlebutt.” He flexes his hand towards you, smiling brighter than the searing sun. Why was he so happy when he was attacked by hemp cables a few minutes ago?

Before you could give it to him, Hobie had a better idea. “Why don't you do this one? Learn how to properly tie a knot.”

“James already taught me”

He beams, “that's good then, go do it.” Moving aside, Hobie gives you ample space to tie the cord.

You begin to twist it around the hook, looping it around itself. Hobie sighs behind you, looking over your shoulder, he has his hands on his hips.

“Continue, let me see what he taught you, yeah?”

Going back to your knot, you recall James’ instructions, over and under, twist it around then tie it together. You're done, looking behind you, Hobie grins, nodding.

“Adequate.”

The pride in your chest dissipates. “Really?” You scoff out.

“Good, but not enough, here.” He walks towards you, standing so close to you that your elbows kiss his.

You smell sea salt and the distinctive wound ointment.

Hobie unties the last knot, “focus here,” he tethers it differently, practiced hands gliding along the rope. “Got it?”

“Y-yeah.”

He unties it again, handing it back to you. “Let me see then.”

You side eye him. “I saw it.”

“Prove it then” he smirks, leaning sideways on the mast, arms crossed on his chest.

You bind it together like he did, hands suddenly clammy, face full of concentration. “There?”

“Not quite. Let me?” He closes the small distance, hands gesturing towards the rope, you nod thinking he's about to show it to you again. Instead he takes your hands in his. Careful and gentle like a flower petal kissing your hands.

Hobie uses your own hands to tether the rope around the steel, your mind has never clouded this much but you're determined to listen this time or he might not leave your hands alone.

“D’you have it, scuttlebutt?”

You clear your throat before speaking. “Y-yeah”

He unknots it once again so you could do it yourself. Holding the rope makes you sweat more as his eyes observe you. You follow through, finally doing it perfectly, it's a bit wonky, leaning to the side but at least it's secure.

Hobie chuckles, clasping your shoulder briefly, not a second more. “Good job.”

You blink, “thanks”

He walks away, leaving you on the spot.

—

The revenge drops anchor further away than the main docks. You've arrived a day earlier than you thought. With your small bag of belongings, you grip it tightly in your hand. You haven't been this further south in your entire life. The air is humid and warm, the trees more scarce.

The anchor clinks against the chains, with one strong push of the large wheel by Finn, the metal comes tumbling down to the depths with a splash.

A ramp is brought down to the side of the ship, it bangs loudly on the asphalt. The crew rolls down barrels upon crates of things down as you watch on with a clenched jaw.

“You'll do great.” Gwen makes you jump in place, she looks at you apologetically. “Don't be nervous, I know you won't fuck up.”

“Thanks?”

She slaps your back, “No problem.”

“Ow” you rub at the small of your back.

One by one they walk off the ship, stretching their arms, some hoot and holler. The late afternoon sun doesn't help with your nervous sweats as you carefully make your way down the ramp.

Finally standing on solid ground, you wobble a bit on your feet, too used to the rhythmic rocking of the ship.

Hobie jumps off the ramp following after you, his boots thud against the ground, heavy leather coat scraping by his shoes. His usual hair is tied in a ponytail hidden under a tricorn hat.

“Is this supposed to be your disguise?” You question him.

He whirls around, smiling almost immediately. “You'll be surprised at how many people don't recognize me in this.”

“Sure–” A crowd of children saunters over to the crew. Your eyes widen at the sight, their faces unafraid, giggling amongst themselves. “Uhh?” You point.

Hobie twists around, bringing your hand down for you. “Calm down, they can smell fear.”

“W-what?” You hide behind Hobie's large coat.

“You're all a sight for sore eyes, eh?!” Hobie bends at the knees while the children greet him with smiles and high fives. Pav and the rest of the crew join in, laughing while some happily chat with them.

“Open the crates,” Hobie calls above the chatter. “Give them the supplies.” He holds a child by his feet, swinging him while more children gather around him, calling for Hobie to swing them around too.

You watch quietly as the crew gives the gaggle of children some food, blankets and coins.

“How's your mum?” You hear Hobie ask a brown haired child. She whispers to him timidly. “Yeah? That's good, give her this bag, tell her it's for medicine.” Hobie hands her a clinking bag, the girl nods, smiling at Hobie.

Your heart warms at the sight, Finn gives the children piggy back rides as he gives them bread that you helped bake. Gwen talks quietly with a silver haired boy, Miles fights off a handful of children as they poke his pockets for coins. Pavitr’s handing each child a fleece blanket, laughing as he covers their heads with it.

You can't believe your own eyes.

A brown eyed girl tugs at your jacket. Looking down, you smile politely at her. Kneeling down to her height, she gives you her best puppy dog eyes.

“I know you're good but give it back, please?” You say while you offer her your open hand.

Her facade breaks, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” she hands you back your coin pouch.

“Need more practice,” you chuckle, standing to your full height.

“Ugh, I know!” She skips off, heading towards Ned.

“That's Estelle, quite a pickpocket huh?” Hobie appears next to you, a couple of children clinging on to each of his legs.

“Yeah, caught her with my coins though.”

“She needs more practice”

You laugh, “that's exactly what I told her.”

Hobie smiles, there's a comfortable silence between you. Just watching everyone interact with the children, more people arrive on the dock, both children and adults alike. They smile and wave. Surprisingly, Hobie waves back with a bigger smile. The children on his legs run off to what looks like their parents. Your smile falters.

Something pokes your side, you look down, finding a book poking you.

“What's this?” you ask, taking the book from Hobie.

“Farewell gift, I figured I won't have the time to give it to you after we take the papers”

Reading the title, you giggle, a smile coming back to your lips.

“‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ of course it's this book. I can't believe it took him five volumes to write this one.”

“Thought you might need it on your adventures.” He turns to you fully, eyes roaming around your face.

You're about to thank him, despite everything that happened, he let you stay, if it was any other pirate ship you'd be dead. Before you could say your piece, Hobie holds out his hand for you to shake.

“Good luck, Scuttlebutt. I can't say you were a pleasure on board but I'm glad you're not navy” you take his hand, shaking it, he tugs you closer, whispering in your ear, his breath fanning across your cheek. Sea salt and leather captures your senses.

“I better see you later or I'll—’’

“Or you'll hunt me down, I know, follow the plan. I won't let them down.” You lean away, cheeks warm, hand still holding his. “I promise.”

His grey eyes swirl, smiling at you. “Good, you're learning.”

“Surviving” nodding, you don't back down from his stare. “I'm just surviving.” you clasp his hand tighter like a hidden threat before you let go.

—

A shot rings out. You scream bloody murder before running frantically out the dim alleyway, sprinting towards the guards guarding the manor. Your barebones shoes clack on the rocks, feeling the jagged edges through your soles, you keep running, calling for help. Frantic shadows dance around your peripheral, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Reaching the silver gates, you bang on the metal. “Guards!” You screech, a couple of young guards sprint towards you, muskets raised in your direction.

“Stop right there! This is private property!” One says, you can smell the ale on his mouth from where you're standing.

This will be easier than you thought. Hopefully.

You heave, playing the part of a damsel in distress. “It's my brother! He's been shot, please help him!” Taking the younger guard’s hands through the metal gate, you flutter your eyelashes. “Please.”

They look at eachother, muskets pointed away from you. You grip his gloved hand tighter for emphasis. Wordlessly, they converse, eyes flitting between you and the manor.

“Please I just need someone to carry him to the hospital.” You shakily take your coin pouch out, the contents clinking against each other. “I can pay,” your eyes water. “I can pay both of you.”

With a nod and a smirk from the older guard, they open the gate, promptly closing it behind them.

“Thank you! Oh thank you!” Leading them towards the alleyway, you speed walk back. “This way, hurry!”

They obediently follow you into the dark.

You step into the darkness, they look around the empty alleyway, “oi! Where's—?”

Yuri emerges from the darkness accompanied by Finn, their guns drawn pointing it right at the guards’ temple.

“Don't move,” Yuri says with a tilt of her head. “Or…you know what happens next.”

You look away before a metal hits flesh in a sickening thwack! They drop harshly on the ground, your cue to look back.

Finn drags the bodies further into the alleyway, away from any prying eyes. You step to the side, giving him space.

“Good job, have you ever thought of a career in theatre?” Yuri asks, sporting two new muskets strapped to her back.

You wipe your eyes free of unshed tears. “I'll think about it.”

“This is it then, landlubber? I really hope I see you again.” She holds your elbow, surprisingly, you don't flinch away.

You fondly smile at her, “Me too, Yuri but I think I'm still needed here.” Your trouser pocket clink as you tap it.

Meanwhile, Hobie and the trio sneak into the manor that's now left unguarded. They go around the large home, finding a servant's back door. Gwen jiggles the doorknob.

“It's locked.” She whispers, kneeling down, she takes a lockpick from her belt. Hobie and the others watch her back.

After numerous tries, the lock pick breaks. Gwen clicks her tongue, taking out another lockpick.

Seven lockpicks later, sweat dribbles on Gwen's neck, the door still sits locked. She looks at Hobie frustrated, brows knitted together.

“Hey!” You whisper shout. All four of them look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Taking out the ring of keys, you show it to them with a large grin.

Hobie jogs over to you quietly, the full moon watches his lips slowly curve into a smile. “How'd you—?”

“Pickpocketed it from the guard.” You smile back, “that's a new lock.” You gesture with your chin, whispering your words. “The usual lockpicks won't work on it. Here” giving the keys to Hobie through the gate, his hand linger on yours as he looks at you with shining eyes. “What?”

“You–” he chuckles. “You know how to pickpocket?”

“What? Like it's hard?” You joke, earning a deep laugh from Hobie.

“How do you even know about the locks?”

“Look who's asking the questions now,” you smirk. “I'm full of surprises I guess.”

After a beat, he stares into your eyes. “Stay with us”

Your heart skips a beat. “What?”

“I know you heard me, scuttlebutt.”

“I–” you consider it, but what would happen if you stayed? What would happen if you join and they still leave you down the road? It's better to go now and save yourself from the heartache.

“I can't” you let his hand go. “I have to go. Good luck, Hobie”

Walking away, you didn't miss how his smile falters.

It's better this way.

—

The smell of the musty tavern brings you back. A plate of ham and beans left almost untouched, it's not the same as Finn's. it tastes like tree bark compared to your meals on the ship. Huddled in a corner, you mindlessly read the book Hobie gave you, its pages pristine and well taken cared of.

You shut it closed, with your eyes growing heavy, you wonder where you're going to be sleeping tonight.

The doors bang open, a loud rambunctious group saunters in, yelling for drinks.

“First round’s on Gwen!” Someone shouts.

“I don't even drink, you fucker!” Gwen shouts back.

Wait, Gwen?

“Gwen?” You mumble.

Like fate, Gwen finds you amidst the crowd. Her eyes widen right before a smile replaces it.

Pavitr yells your name first, pointing at you like he hasn't seen you in years. Everyone follows his finger, the rest of them cheer, pushing patrons away to get to you. James shoves Danny out of the way, taking the closest seat next to you.

Ned grabs both of them by the hem of their shirts, “give her some space, fuckin' hell!”

You give him a smile as thanks, he nods once, mock saluting you.

Yuri guffaws loudly. “I knew it! We're meant to be together, eh?” She shakes your shoulder, planting a loud smooch on top of your head. You giggle, waving her away.

“Alright, let's all calm down.” You laugh loudly, “Mug, watch your stitches!”

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

Gwen sits next to you with a small smile while half of the group head on to the bar to order their alcohol.

“How'd it go?” You whisper to her, “where's Hobie?”

“Everything went well.” Her eyes darted all over the place. “Hobie went back to the ship to store the papers.”

“What's wrong?” You look around, trying to find what's gotten her nervous. “You alright?”

“Yeah, it's just—I don't know.”

“It was too easy.” Miles pipes up, handing Gwen a cup of something warm.

“That,” she nods as thanks to Miles, sighing. “He's right, it seemed too easy. We sneaked in, never making a sound.” She whispers closely. “We only saw three housekeepers in the entire manor and you know how these officials are.” you nod. “I'm just keeping an eye out for everyone, just in case.”

“That's why we chose this tavern, it's far from the manor.” Miles explains. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be out and adventuring right now? Y’know ‘finding yourself’” he makes quotation marks with his fingers.

“I was just resting. Am I not allowed to rest?” You sarcastically say.

“Oh I'm not gonna miss you on board.” He sips from his cup.

“Sure, say how's that tea taste? Like shit right? I bet you're gonna miss the brew I always make for you” you ask with a teasing smile. Gwen chuckles next to you.

“You're horrible.” he says into his cup of swirling dark liquid. A ghost of a smile hiding behind the ceramic.

A bundled loaf of bread drops in front of you, almost shattering the plate of so-called ham and beans. Looking up, you see Finn nodding at you.

“Thank you, Finn.” You smile at him, he grunts in reply, heading towards the rest of the group.

Pav visibly sags into his chair, blowing his bangs out of his face.

Used to his attitude, you tilt your head, asking him. “What is it, Pav?”

“I'm tired,” he sighs. “And I'm gonna miss you.”

You feel heat behind your eyes. “I'll miss you too, Pav, and our late night talks.”

“You kept me awake,” you chortle. Pav tentatively reaches for your hand over the table, letting him in, you open your palm wordlessly. “I guess we didn't hit any rocks because of you chattering endlessly. So thank you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand once.

He drops his sadness, going back to his usual self. “Are you sure you can't stay? Come on! We've got…” he thinks for a second, finding the bread on the table he gestures towards it. “Bread!”

“A lot of places offer bread, Pav”

“Yeah, but they're not Finn's bread”

He's right, they're not Finn's, or Gwen's or Miles’ or Hobie's. They're not from the crew and nothing will ever be once you finally leave. Despite all of these, you smile, standing up with shaky legs.

“I have to go.” Your small voice echoes in their ears, they look at you with fond smiles. “Thank you, really.” You think about hugging them but you change your mind last minute, it's better this way, you say to yourself.

You wave goodbye, fighting yourself from looking back.

Exiting the tavern, the cold evening air blasts your cheeks, a tear escapes and you wipe it immediately.

“Y/N, wait!” Gwen runs after you. You stop in your tracks, looking over your shoulder with a sad smile.

You can't keep doing this, you need to leave, your mind tells you but your heart says otherwise.

“Here.” She hands you a hefty bag of coins, the pouch is pink with her name embroidered on it. “for your travels and as a thank you for helping with the crew.”

You shake your head, “I can't take this.” Pushing it back towards her. She gives you a stern look worthy of a first mate. “Gwen, I can't. Give it to the children, I don't want it.”

“You won't survive another day with what you have on you right now” before you could protest, she stuffs it into your bag. “You can pay me back when we meet again.”

You nod, “Alright, I'll pay you back. I promise”

“Good luck and I don't know if this might be helpful but we're heading north. If–if you want to come aboard again we'll be near the thousand islands. Waiting” the moonlight illuminates her sad eyes.

“Thank you, I'll think about it.” You turn around but you look back against better judgment. “Can you tell Hobie…just say thanks for me.”

“Will do Y/N.” Gwen smiles genuinely at you.

So you walk with no true destination. You roam around on your tired feet, waiting until something happens, you don't know what it could be and you're too fatigued to think right now.

A cat meows in the alley, followed by a chorus of soft mewls. Its bright green eyes blink slowly at you, an orange tubby and cream colored cat sidles up to the black cat. They meow simultaneously, getting your attention. Their noses probably got a whiff of the ham you've pocketed.

“Hungry?” You squat, taking the covered ham to give it to them. They take bites, sharing the meat with each other. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” sighing, you look at the end of the alley, your heart almost falls when you see the same engraving of a bird taking flight stamped on the side of a crate, followed by another and another.

“What the fuck.” You speed walk towards the docks, ankles hurting from all the running you've done. “Hey!” You yell at a worker who's currently loading the crates in a ship.

“Oi yourself” he turns around, hands on his hips.

You try to catch your breath, “what's that?” Pointing at the crate, the man looks at you like you've lost your mind.

“A fucking crate, love. You haven't seen a crate before?”

“No, I meant the design, the fucking sigil.”

“Ah, it's clearly a blue jay. look at its tail.” he gestures at the tail.

“That's— that's not what I was asking but thanks, I guess. I meant the sigil. What does it mean? And where is it going?” hope fills your chest.

“I dunno about the symbol, I just haul them in. As for where we're going, I'll tell you. For a price of course.” He smiles, showing his teeth with one gold fang.

“Fine.” You don't hesitate giving him a coin.

He chuckles, pocketing the money immediately. “Further north, near the capital.”

“The capital.” this is your chance so you take it. “How much? How much to board?”

He laughs at her face. “If only you were a man!” He eyes her up and down. “Clearly you're not.”

You scoff, glaring at the man. “You're fucking nasty.”

“Y/N?” The simple call of your name sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart stops beating for a second, you bolt it out of there without looking back at him. You know it's him, his booming voice yells after you, loud footsteps echoing in the night.

“Y/N!” Miguel yells.

His partner appears from an alleyway, you sprint past her without sparing her a glance.

“Whoa!” She yelps, almost falling on her back.

“It's her!” he screams, voice cracking from the sheer volume. “Lyla, it's Y/N!”

“Oh shit!”

You hear two sets of running footsteps behind you. There's no advantage for you this time, you don't know the city and its streets. It's only a matter of time before you walk into a dead end.

“Fuck!” With your aching knees, thighs burning, lungs gasping for air, you head towards the only sanctuary you can think of and where people can help defend you—The tavern.

You can feel him getting closer and closer to you, turning a corner, your ankles almost give out from the sudden turn. “No, no, no!” Limping slightly, you continue to run as fast as you can with a sprained ankle.

“Y/N, please!” His partner yells.

The familiar roof of the tavern peeks over all the houses, a beacon of hope for you. With a sudden tug on your arm, your body harshly takes an unwanted turn to the right. Strong yet familiar set of arms holds you, a calloused hand covers your mouth as you struggle to get out of the alcove.

“Calm down, it's me.” He whispers close to your ear.

You stop your squirming, looking up, Hobie's serious face looks at the opening of the alcove, eyebrows knitted together in anger.

Your back is squished on his chest, shaking hand holding his wrist. The dark alcove saves you as Miguel and Lyla run past.

Hobie takes his hand off your mouth, you heave, almost falling to your knees if not for him still holding on to you.

“Thank you.” You whisper like he could still hear you.

“Why is the former admiral comin' after you?” He turns you towards him in the cramped space, your knees banging on his legs, hips dangerously close to his.

“What? He's an admiral?” There's no way he's an admiral. You try to remember the day but it's been years, you don't recall him ever wearing a uniform.

“Yeah, he's—” Hobie shuts up, hearing voices from outside your little alcove.

It's him.

You look behind you and it’s a dead end. Craning your neck up, you have an idea.

“We need to climb up.” You quietly say, heart beating rapidly.

“Are you sure you can do it?” He looks at your swollen ankle.

You nod, “I don't have a choice.”

Hobie nods, lips tightly closed. “Alright. You go first, if you fall I'll catch you, again.” He doesn't waste an opportunity does he?

With your feet laying flat on the wall and your hands on the other side, back straight. You slowly make your way up. Hobie's close behind you, doing the same but managing his speed, slowing down for you.

Looking down, you almost fall as your ankle throbs.

Miguel's voice echoes out in the darkness, he's close.

“It's alright,” Hobie encourages you. “I'm right here, yeah? If you fall we'll run, even if I have to carry your arse out of here.”

Why couldn't your savior be Gwen?

With a roll of your eyes and a groan, you continue to climb up. Finally reaching the top, the moonlight greets you. Hobie helps you up by pushing you up by your feet, careful of your injury.

Laying down on the sodden roof. You roll over to the side to help him up by his hand, pulling with all your might.

Hobie climbs over the edge, laying down next to you, breathing heavily.

“I underestimated the height of that.” He says in between breaths.

“I underestimated how heavy you are.”

He pats his stomach. “This is pure muscle, trouble.” turning to face you, his piercings shine in the evening's light, smile across his lips like you're not hiding from someone.

“Full of Finn's stew more like.”

“I'm a growing boy, I need the sustenance.” he twists, looking below. “They're gone, I see them walking back towards the docks.”

You let yourself breathe again, head thumping on the roof. “Thank fuck.”

“Don't you mean thank me?” Hobie lays down next to you again, you groan in reply. “How's the ankle?”

“I think it's just sprained—” A twig snaps, you swear the roof caved in a bit. “What was that?”

“Shit, I think it's the—”

Crack!

The roof caves in, Hobie lunges for you mid air, holding on to you, hand guiding your head on his chest as he braces for impact.

You land on top of Hobie, he groans in pain, your eyes adjust at the candles littered around the frilly room.

“Shit! Are you bleeding? Please don't tell me you hit your head!” you frantically pat behind his head. Instead of warm ichor, you feel something soft.

You pull it out from behind his head without warning. He yelps when his head hits the carpeted floor.

Wincing, you apologize. “Sorry.” looking at the pillow in your hand, you're more confused than ever. More confusing than the sight of a crystal ball sitting in the middle of the table.

Roaming your eyes, you stop at a woman clad in furs and velvet, she stands frozen with her teacup in her hands.

“Uh, welcome to Nellie's?”

—

You're incredibly glad Nellie's nice, she even gave you ice for Hobie's back, ice! In this season! There's also ice on your swollen ankle, the cold seeping through your skin, giving you reprieve from the pain. You bet she's rolling in coins judging from all the generous ice she's given. Maybe you should learn how to be a fortune teller from her. You think about asking her if she needs an apprentice.

After dropping off almost half of Gwen's money to pay for the roof, you stare at it longingly, already missing its weight inside your bag.

She comes out of her kitchen, the beaded curtains flutter as she moves through it.

“Shoulders.” Hobie grumbles. He sits next to you, back hunched while you hold the ice on his back for him. “Y/N, move the bloody thing.”

“Right, you can say please, you know.” You slide the cloth covered ice up to his shoulders, he hisses when you hit his tender muscle. “Sorry, my fault.”

“Definitely your fault.” He quietly says with a pout.

“Oh don't be such a baby,” Nellie drops off a silver tray full of tea and crumpets. “I foresaw that you'll heal in no time.” she says with a smile.

Hobie raises a brow skeptically. You wordlessly communicate with him, telling him to shut it or she might call the coppers on you two. He sighs, rolling his eyes, taking a bite of a crumpet.

“So Nellie, you're a fortune teller huh? How exactly do you uh do that?” You ask, making conversation, careful of your words.

“I'm so glad you asked!” she giggles excitedly, pouring you and Hobie a cup each. Nellie drops a cube of sugar and milk in yours just like how you like it while Hobie gets three cubes. Wait.

Hobie beats you to it, “How'd you know I like my tea with three sugars?” He says with his mouth full.

Nellie smiles, tapping her temple. “I have the gift.” She sits down across from you, “although it's not always accurate, but I give it a” she sucks in her teeth, thinking. “Eighty percent chance of being right? My trusty crystal ball helps in filling the gaps.”

She gestures around the ball, making whooshing sounds.

You and Hobie share a look.

“Do you want a go?” She flicks her different colored eyes at you two. “I'll throw it in for free since you paid me already for the damages. I know I'm incredibly nice, no?”

You have nothing to lose, and you have to wait until Hobie recuperates. Said man eats his third crumpet.

“Sure, why not, right?” you chuckle nervously.

“Lower back.” Hobie instructs, you scoff before doing what he asked. He did save you again, that's the only reason why you do what he asks for.

“Fantastic! Let's start!” She claps her hands, the inside of the crystal ball swirls, pearlescent colors shining inside like water. “Oooh let's start off with you!” Nellie addresses you, you straighten up in your seat.

She roams her ringed hands around the ball. “I see that you're running from someone, M? I think?”

You look at Hobie in the corner of your eyes. He thickly swallows his crumpet. “Shoulders,” he says lowly. You move it up, annoyed.

“And for Mr. Hungry here,” she glances at Hobie. “Oh, I see the letter M too! You're more alike than I thought!”

Hobie stops eating, exchanging his crumpet for a cup of tea.

“Hmm, and a J? For…” she narrows her eyes, looking directly at the swirling colors. “The both of you, again. Huh?” Nellie chuckles, “that's— I've never seen that before, even from other couples.”

You swallow thickly, not bothering to correct her.

Taking your tea from the tray to calm your nerves.

She's dangerously accurate.

Her bright demeanor suddenly falls, her mismatched eyes empty and devoid of light. Her smile fades. “Something lurks in the water.” She says flatly.

“Alright, we should go.” Hobie stretches his back. “This is all bollocks, let's go–”

Nellie suddenly punches the table. Hobie sits back down, holding your wrists just in case he needs to run.

“I see the blazing sun and sand beneath your feet” She sharply turns towards you. “Don a white dress and you'll find what you're looking for.”

You take your wrist away from Hobie. “What do you mean?”

She ignores you, twisting suddenly towards Hobie. “I see blood and steel kissing your neck if you stay on the path. Answer her call and you'll be safe.”

Hobie looks at her with an unreadable face. Fists tightly closed. “Whose call?” She ignores him, blinking rapidly.

Nellie smiles back, the light in her eyes coming back. “Oh look at that! I see the same white dress and sun in yours!” She giddily says to a confused Hobie. “A beach wedding perhaps?” She giggles while you and Hobie are shaking in your seats.

Hobie has had enough, taking your wrist again, he stands up. “Thank you for the hospitality and for not screaming bloody murder but we have to go.”

“To plan the wedding?”

“No, to murder and pillage.” Hobie takes the ice from the floor. “Goodbye”

“Uh sorry about the roof!” You yell back. He tugs you outside.

“Wait, are you two pirates?” Nellie asks into the now empty room, scratching her head.

—

The sun is rising as you and Hobie sneak quietly out of town and into the secret dock where the revenge rests.

You can't help but exhale out your nerves once you reach the ship. Hobie's shoulders visibly relax, waving towards Gwen who's eyes widen when she sees you. Pavitr stands next to her, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You shake your head rapidly, he gives you a thumbs up while Miles has the most disgusted look on his face.

Hobie turns around, “You comin’?”

You contemplate what happened today, your bones are aching and begging for sleep.

“I–I need to go.”

Hobie could only nod, walking away from you without looking back. “Lift the anchor” you hear him say from the ship.

The crew waves back at you, faces of different variety, some smiles, some could only look at you with sad eyes. Finn nods, a small smile on his lips. Gwen leaves, sparing you a glance. You think you hear Yuri yell ‘no, my wife!’ you chuckle to yourself in the empty dock.

You watch as the people's revenge sails further away, the anchor lifting back up slowly.

North. The word jumps back at you. They're heading north.

Without thinking, you run.

Your ankle screams for you to stop, but your grin says otherwise. You pray to every divine entity out there to help you reach the anchor in time and to not let you drown.

“Wait!” You yell. Everyone runs towards the edge of the ship, watching with wide eyes as you run the length of the wooden dock.

Pavitr cheers you on, yelling loudly. Everyone else follows his lead, hands rhythmically banging on wood, screams making you run faster.

Hobie beams from the ship. Tossing off his large coat and hat, he climbs to the side of the boat through its ropes, as close as he can get to you.

With an outstretched hand, he calls for you. “C’mon, trouble!”

With a running leap, your fingers graze his palms. You don't make it.

Hobie lets himself fall, holding your hand with both arms. The crew made themselves a rope to hold Hobie while he grips on to you tightly.

You laugh loudly, seeing the human chain, Gwen holds on to Hobie's waist, while Miles holds on to Gwen, Pav and the others begin to heave you all up to the boat.

With a jump, you reach up with your dangling arm to hold on tight to his shoulder.

Hobie beams down at you, “I hope you've read the book because these wankers might let us go for shits and giggles.”

“No I haven't,” you say above the wind, feet dangling several feet off the deep waters. “But I trust them. I know they've got me.”

The sun wakes up to loud cheering and smiles.

[zinya]

OBEY ME INCORRECT QUOTES #2

Hey, is your day going well? I had a question before starting: which OM character do you like the least?

This time there is no mention of blood or injury so you can read in peace

Mc- "I love you."

Lucifer-"Please don't."

Solomon who wanted to surprise MC by cooking a new recipe and ended up burning whatever this thing he calls "dish"

Solomon-"Look, I can explain... "

MC- "At this point I don't think I want you to."

Diavolo: "That's suspicious..."

Lucifer who watched MC and his family "What is?"

Diavolo:"This is the first time youve smiled in fourteen years."

Mc and Asmo who bet on who will have the most likes on devilgram

Mc-"How did you defeat me...?"

Asmo-"Because I have something you don't..."

Mc-"Superpowers?"

Asmo- "Well, I was going to say friends.. but yeah, that too."

Diavolo-"I've decided to run off and become a pirate. "

Barbatos-"But your highness, you have a kingdom to run...

Diavolo-"Not anymore!"

Mc- "Violence isn't always the answer."

Satan-"True, but it is an answer."

Mammon-"You can tell me to do whatever you want-"

Mc- "Good, because need一"

Mammon-"But that doesn't mean that I'll listen."

Mc who enters Levi's room and sees him with his sewing machine

Mc-"What are you making?"

Levi-“Bad decisions.”

Lucifer- "I have a secret."

Mc-"Then keep it to yourself. Knowing you, it's probably something that would get me killed again."

Levi- "I'm going to need a week to recover from this..."

Mammon-"We've only been outside for three minutes."

Lucifer-"And this, is exactly what happens when you don't follow instructions."

Mc- "Last time I checked, life doesn't just hand you a book of instructions when you're born."

Mammon- "Even if life did, who would actually follow them?"

Mc-"You look extremely sad."

Asmo-"Thank you."

Mc-"Well, are you alright?"

Asmo-"Yes, I'm fine."

Mc-"You have tears streaming down your face...'

Asmo- "I'm auditioning for a movie, and I have

to be able to cry on command."

Lucifer- "What is that?"

Mammon"Nothing!"

Lucifer"Well, 'nothing' looks a lot like my wallet. How did you get that?"

Mc-"NO."

Mammon-"I didn't even say anything."

Mc- "You didn't have to. That smirk said it for you."

Here are the ideas coming from: ~ThirzahWriteg~ and @Bookingitonthedaily ( Instagram)

I don't know if you like this kind of format, in any case I have a lot of fun making them, and of course sorry for any spelling mistakes you might see in the posts.

On that note have a good day, believe in yourself and do everything you can yesterday doesn't matter anymore but today does.💙

[inevitably-johnlocked]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Ahhh, so I saw this Fanfiction Bingo Card by @swissmissing going around, and even though I wasn't ever tagged, I wanted to do some recs of my own because, like, that's my whole brand LOL. I hope no one minds...🙃 I needed to have a list ready for this Sunday, and this was perfect, LOL.

And because I'm always trying to overachieve on these challenges, I'm going to do full black out, BOTH tropes in each square.

This will be a Combination of my read fics and "to read" fics [to fill in spaces I don't have tags for], which I will append the latter with (MFL) just like so, for those of you who only want fics I've personally read. And apologies, I had to remove some of my standard links to fit them all within Tumblr's link limits, so author names aren't clickable AND I've removed all series' links, so be sure to check out other stories by the authors!!

AND FINALLY, this is a rare list that I DON'T have in word-count order, just so y'all know! I hope you guys like the fics I've pick for y'all. Literally random picks from my lists, based on tag searches, LOL.

AU: A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Amnesia: I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (E, 12,625 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Amnesia, Soldier!John) – After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband. Part 9 of Happiness Awaits

BDSM: Lock and Key Series by 221b_hound (E, 59,509+ w. across 14 works || Series WiP || Post-HLV, Tattoos, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Hand Jobs, Captain John, Cuddling, Sherlock's Scars, Possessive Johnlock, Exhibitionism / Voyeurism, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Sherlock in Panties, PWP, Dirty Talk, Sexual Fantasies, Restraints, Photographs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Assorted Kinks, Sherlock in a Sheet, Sex on Furniture, Domestic Fluff) – John has been back at Baker Street for a year, following the debacle that ended in Mary's death. Things are good. Back almost to what they used to be. Sherlock might wish they were something else, now, but he only has himself to blame, he thinks. It's too late, now, for the things he first denied before he'd ruined any chances he might have had. Sherlock also thinks that people who get tattoos are idiots. But perhaps he's about to learn a thing or two, not least of which might be it's not as late as he thinks it is.

Bodyswap: Inexplicable by emmagrant01 (E, 34,664 w., 6 Ch. || Body Swap, TSo3, Magical Realism / Artifacts, Infidelity, Angst) – So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.

Crossover: Perdition's Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., 21 Ch. || Star Trek Fusion || Established Relationship, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Crack: Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of "Fucking Baked Goods" - Sherlock BBC

Domestic: Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn't played the violin since John's wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Disability: Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis/Disabilities, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Drug Use, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

Established Relationship: Caught In The Act Series by ShirleyCarlton (E, 9,217 w. across 7 works || Established Relationship, Unintentional Voyeurism, Alternate POVs, Humour, Blow Jobs, Walking in on Someone, Switching, Public Sex) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Enemies to Lovers: Synchronicity by Calais_Reno (T, 46,424 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, POV John, Bullying, Coming Out, Forgiveness, Drinking/Bars, Boarding School, Drunk John) – John and Sherlock meet again, years after they were school boys together. John hasn't forgotten why he still hates Sherlock Holmes. (MFL)

Future: Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w., 4 Ch. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn't. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Fluff: A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Gen: Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

Genderswap: Cockscomb by birdie7272 (E, 115,302 w., 32 Ch. || Femlock / Gender Swap || Light Dom / Sub, Sensual Play, Cocks, Lace, Safe Words, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Truth or Dare, Slow Burn, Feminism, Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Cheating, Power Play, Manipulation, Control) – Lace, whiskey, and a case full of cocks leads to a brand new kind of adventure. AKA The One With All The Cocks… When There Are No Cocks (MFL)

Historical: Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / Virgin Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy. (MFL)

Humour: Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E, 3,834 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple's costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn't agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Illness: Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst, Promise of Forever) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Imprisonment: THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Jealousy: The High Tide Series by stardust_made (E, 15,269 w. across 3 works || OMC, Angst, Jealousy, Developing Relationship, First Time, Romance) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, afluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it.

Jilted: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Kids: The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

Kink: John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times Series by wendymarlowe (E, 247,051+ w. across 45 works || Series WiP || Short Stories, Assorted Tags with Assorted Genres, PWP) – A collection of short imaginings of how Sherlock and John might finally allow their relationship to become physical. Don't be afraid of the giant cloud of tags - each fic stands alone and you can read them in any order.

Long: Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest? 

Love Triangle: Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Magical Realism: The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 (M, 9,994 w., 2 Ch. || Frozen-ish AU || Magical Realism, Christmas, Angst, Fluff, Powerful John) – In a world where people are born with a Gift of varying levels, simple John Watson is the last person one might look at when thinking of any strong Magick capabilities. Hiding comfortably in the shadow of Sherlock's brilliant deducing abilities, John is content to keep it that way...

Major Character Death: I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

NSFW: Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.” 

Next Gen.: If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars... (MFL)

Omegaverse: A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w., 26 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Only One Bed: The Cure for Snoring by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 1,278 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Conversations, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Fluff, Domestic, Platonic / Sleepy Cuddles) – Sherlock and John spend the night in Scotland after finishing a case. The sole Inn in town only has one room left...one bed. This would be fine - if not a bit awkward - if Sherlock hadn't developed a habit of snoring loudly. John suffers through many hours of sleeplessness before he discovers that skin-to-skin contact stops the noise. Part 1 of Dreamscapes

Parenthood: Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Platonic: The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

Queer: Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Quest: Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,739 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASIB, Sort-Of Bondlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Angst and Humour, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock loves John, and John loves... James Bond. He only made Sherlock watch every single film. Tedious. And now John's birthday is coming up. Sherlock can't tell him how he feels, but he can organise an amazing gift: John's very own spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Retirement: Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Road Trip: Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Rel., Road Trips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk. “Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Soulmates: The Heart On Your Sleeve by flawedamythyst (T, 5,441 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmate AU || Sherlock POV, Heartmarks, Pining, Fluff and Angst, Semi-S1 / S2 Canon Compliant, Reunion) – Sherlock stared at the imperfect circle on his left wrist in horror, then sat down on his bed with a bit of a thump. After over thirty years, his heartmark was finally showing activity. This was not good.

Slow Burn: Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

Teen AU: The Sky is Full of Fiddles by agirlsname (T, 25,659 w., 6 Ch. || 1895 Teenlock || Romantic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Swedish Folk Music, Dancing, Sherlock’s Violin, Poetry, Skinny Dipping, Summer Love, First Kiss, Proposals, POV John, Gay Surprise) – It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together. John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed… (MFL)

Time Travel: The Engine by stitchy (T, 8,294 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Post-HLV, ASiP Do-Over, Sci-Fi, Time Travel) – Shortly after the events of His Last Vow, Sherlock has an opportunity to revisit the night of A Study in Pink and get some perspective on the destiny of he and John's relationship.

Undercover: The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

Unrequited: Love Is Series by SilentAuror (E, 36,903 w. across 2 works || Post S3, Alternating POV Each Story, Angst, Unrequited Love, Rejection then Reconciliation, Romance, Mary Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him.

Vampires: Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn't human. His vampirism doesn't pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

Villain POV: Genesis by pasiphile (M, 19,521 w., 1 Ch. || Graphic Violence, Moriarty’s Past) – Before he was Jim Moriarty, he was just Jimmy, a street kid with more pain in his past and more ambition in his head than he could handle, and only one other person he could bring himself to trust. Part 6 of This Life Is A Trip (When You're Psycho In Love) (MFL)

Whump: Trapped and Upside Down on the M6 by BootsnBlossoms (E, 4,256 w., 1 Ch. || Whump, Car Accident, Hurt / Comfort) – Everything felt wrong. His hair was going the wrong way. His arms were bent in ways he wouldn’t choose to bend them. His neck hurt and he couldn’t really feel his toes. Something was dripping on his face – and rolling up. A car crash. He had been in a car crash.

Werewolves: John Watson’s Moon by patternofdefiance (E, 11,314 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Creatures || Werewolf John, First Time, BAMF John, First Time, Anal, Fleeting Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock finds out John is a werewolf and wants to see the transformation. It, uh, gets really kinky.

Xenomorphism: Forest King by Elphen (E, 141,856 w., 27 Ch. || Magical Realism / Omegaverse AU || Mythical Creatures, Group Sex, Body Worship, Drinking / Impairment, Dubious Consent, Anal Fingering/Sex, Transformations / Shapeshifting, Mpreg, BAMF John, Possessive Sherlock, Celtic Mythology, Paganism, Sherlock’s Violin, Frottage, Illnesses, Caring Sherlock, Netherworld/Underworld, Coping Mechanisms, Paternal Lestrade, Defensive John, Big Brother Mycroft, Insecurity, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Mild Jealousy, Pregnant Sex, Male Lactation, Birthing, Emotional Support, Parenthood, Family History) – After falling out with his sister, John ends up in a Cornwall Midsummer’s Eve celebration in the middle of a forest that’s rather…different. After the hazy night of magic and passion with a pale-eyed man, he goes home to London. He’s in for a surprise when his stomach starts growing and buds appears on his head. Not one to just accept things, he returns to Cornwall to demand an explanation. When he meets the forest king, Sherlock, again, he has to come to terms with not only what’s happened to him but what kind of magical world he’s been thrust into. Plus, there’s the questions of whether he trusts the antlered man and how he'll survive being apparently pregnant. Sherlock isn’t much help. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to somehow make John understand his feelings, however, even if he’s greatly hampered by being Sherlock. They slowly move forward but problems beyond their control may arise from an act done with the best of intentions. How will they cope, separately and together? (MFL)

Xmas: Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Zombies: The Hollow Ones by antietamfalls (M, 100,244 w., 23 Ch. || Walking Dead Fusion || Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Build, Emotional Constipation, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort) – The dead walk. Mangled corpses of the deceased rise and mindlessly feast upon the flesh of the living. John wakes up, alone and confused, into the remnants of a city gone mad. He will search for answers. He will find Sherlock at any cost. And he will learn that the living are far more dangerous than the dead. (MFL)

Zoomorphism: How to Build a Heart out of Ashes by Teumessian (E, 144,931 w., 31 Ch. || Changeling AU || Slow Burn, Drug Use, Mentions of Child Abuse / Bullying, Mentions of Student/Teacher Relations, Uni-Age) – In an AU where a small number of the population become Changelings at a young age, at 17 John Watson believes he's destined for Normal life but then the Change takes him and he is sent to the Baker Institute. There he meets Sherlock Holmes.

[atinywriter]

hidden treasure

[ kim hongjoong x reader ] [ pirate!au ] [ mermaid!reader ]

[ wordcount: 4.6k]

[ warnings: mild violence, suggestive tones, unedited for the most part ]

[ a/n: there were so many different ways i wanted to go with this but wanted to put out a semi finished form? i’m open to more fics in this universe for sure 👀 ]

The sharp glint of the silver bejeweled knife against the swell of a rotten man’s throat always made Hongjoong grin. The man in question was a lowly black market peddler, Willoughby, one that sold Hongjoong and his crew a lousy map that led them to a treasure that had already been taken.

“Given your history I really should have known better. Now here we are, my knife against your throat and your life in my hands. What are we going to do about that, hmm?” Hongjoong asks menacingly, pressing the silver blade closer to his artery. Willoughby swallows thickly, the sharp blade nicking his skin.

“How was I supposed to know the treasure was already taken? It’s not like I’m the one who took it. Look, I can give you another map, free of charge,” the cocky man barters, and a scoff sounds from behind Hongjoong.

“As if that could make up for the bullshit we went through, you rat. Just kill him, Hongjoong, he’s good for nothing anyways,” Seonghwa says moodily. He never liked this peddler and always felt like he was giving out poor information, it would be better to just not have to deal with him. The mission for the previously said treasure had gone wrong at every turn, ending up with their youngest crew member Jongho on light duty due to an injury he had gotten.

“Hmm, yes Seonghwa maybe you’re right. Why would I risk anything else when I could easily kill you and take all of your maps,” Hongjoong asks sarcastically, “Is there really nothing better you can offer me?” The heel of Hongjoong’s black boot crushes down onto the peddlers hand resting against the dirt, fingers crunching and a desperate howl leaves the peddlers mouth.

“Aish, okay I have something to offer you. My own secret cove that holds my personal treasures. I have a map in my right breast pocket. Take it and spare my life, I’m begging,” the peddler says, his eyes shedding a few tears. Hongjoong harshly pulls the map from his pocket, opening it up and looking at it. He didn’t see any locations marked, so he passes it off to Seonghwa to examine.

“You’re a lying rat now, huh? There’s not even any locations marked on this map,” Seonghwa snaps.

“I leave it unmarked in case it falls into the wrong hands, I’ll mark it for you, please just spare my life,” the man begs, voice breathy from the pain in his hand. Hongjoong giggles sadistically before pressing his heel further into the man’s hand, making sure to leave his mark before letting off of the pressure. Immediately after releasing his hand the peddler pulls it close to his chest, cradling it and crying silently. Hongjoong pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket, handing it to the man and holding the map against his own leg for the man to mark it. The man quickly draws an X in a little cove off the coast of a quiet, secluded tropical island. It was an area of the ocean known to be peaceful and quiet, not many ships sailing through. If this cove does turn out to be another lie, at the very least his crew will be able to relax on the island. Hongjoong kicks the peddler down onto his ass before getting into his face, a menacing smile taking over.

“If this is another scam, rat, we’ll be back for you, and you won’t live to tell the tale,” Hongjoong threatens and the man nods quickly, crawling back on his hands to create some space between them before darting up and running off into the towns busiest area.

“Finish up collecting your supplies in town, Seonghwa. We’ll be leaving before dawn,” Hongjoong says before turning and walking back down the dock towards the Illusion, the most mysterious ship on the seas. Hongjoong never allowed anyone who stepped on deck to live save for his crew, there were too many luxurious treasures hidden about the ship to risk someone catching sight of them.

The ship was quiet when he returned, most of the crew taking advantage of the docking to catch up on some well deserved rest. He can see Wooyoung scaling down the ropes from the lookout, landing beside Hongjoong with a quiet thump.

“Where’s Seonghwa,” Wooyoung questions.

“He’s just picking up the last of the supplies we need,” Hongjoong answers while pulling the map out of his inner chest pocket, “We’re heading for a little island off the coast of Fiji. Wake Yunho, Mingi, and Yeosang when you see Seonghwa return and we will depart for the open ocean.”

It’s not long before Seonghwa is quietly trekking down the boardwalk, arms chalked full of bags. He lets out a sharp whistle and patiently waits as Wooyoung scales from the heights of the crow’s nest to take half of the bags from him. The pair head into the galley, dropping off the bags to be unpacked by Seonghwa while Wooyoung wakes Yeosang, Mingi, and Yunho. Minutes later the sails were up and the ship was coasting on before the sun was glinting over the horizon.

A few days after some surprisingly smooth sailing, the crew were anchoring off the coast of the small island that had an untouched green jungle presented past the rich tan sands of the beach. A few of the members had pulled out some hammocks, excited to bask with the sun on their face and fresh fruit in their mouths. Yeosang and Jongho had been stuck with ship sitting duty, due to Jongho’s injury. Yeosang had been teaching the youngest member a game played with a deck of cards and had voluntarily stayed behind. The other members boarded their rowboat and quickly set off to shore.

Once tied off, the members split up into two groups - Mingi, San, and Wooyoung were setting up their hammocks and getting together some fruit and fresh water, ready for a relaxing beach day. Hongjoong couldn’t complain, he knew they had been in some exhausting conditions recently and he had no bad feelings about this island. In fact this was probably the most at peace he had felt on land in many years. The map had a cove marked not far off from the beach they had landed on, just a short trek through the jungle to their left. Hongjoong led the way with an impatient buzz, Seonghwa and Yunho following closely behind. Yunho whistled a tune as they walked, keeping the mood upbeat as the sunlight filtered through the dense green canopy.

As they neared the cove, they could tell that the rat of a smuggler had clearly left his mark in the forest, trash strewn about fire pits and random bits and bobs making a mess of a beautiful jungle.

“Looks like you should’ve killed him while you had him, captain. Nobody should be making such a mess of a pretty place like this,” Yunho says to Hongjoong as they’re locating the door to the hidden away cove.

The entrance was hidden by hanging ivy, the trio walking in together quietly. Hongjoong could feel his muscles tightening up slightly, a tell tale sign that there was some sort of magic in this cave, regardless of the stale wet smell blanketing everything. Looking over his shoulder, he connects eyes with the pair behind him and gestures for them to look around for anything of value. Neither of them had the connection with magic that Hongjoong did, albeit he only had a small connection it was more than anyone would consider normal. The pair seperated, looking at the homemade shelving systems and chests strewn about the cave.

“Well, would you look at that,” Seonghwa says with a mirthful tone, pointing out the treasure he had just uncovered from a dirty tarp. The same treasure that the lying smuggler had just sold them a map for, that they had gone through a tumultuous time getting to, that had gotten Jongho injured.

“The next moment we see him will be his last, I swear it,” Hongjoong says darkly. Yunho is gathering maps up from a table nearby, various areas with various X’s for treasure lining them. Hongjoong continues deeper into the cave while the other two take more looks around. He’s following the sizzle from the magic in his bones, the dim lighting going in and out and wet flooring squelching beneath his boots.

There’s a candle flickering on a small stand ahead, one that they didn’t light and could’ve been lit for who knows how long given the wax buildup along the stand. Hongjoong’s tense shoulders drop, maybe this was the magic he had been sensing all along - an always lit candle. He steps closer, his guard down for the time being.

As he’s nearing the light gives way to a large, sealed glass tank full of murky water. It’s about his height, the top and edges a rusted metal that had been poorly made. Clearly not something that was supposed to be here. Curiouser, Hongjoong squats near to the middle of the glass, eyes trying to get a look into the murky water. It almost looks like the water inside was slightly moving, tiny waves hitting the side of glass lightly. He swears he hears a splash as he’s squatting there, trying to get a look in and see whatever creature must be in there. Against his better judgement he leans in closer, lifting his hand up to lightly tap on the glass twice. The waves increase in intensity as he does so, and he thinks he sees shimmering white scales and a large fin swimming by swiftly. There’s footsteps behind him as Seonghwa and Yunho approach. They get in close and even go so far as to lean up against the lid, sending it barely sliding off the top letting a sliver of air and light into the tank.

Suddenly the creature in the tank zooms up to the sliver, and Hongjoong falls back onto his ass as he finally takes it in fully. It’s half woman half fish, an actual mermaid in the flesh. Hongjoong had been lucky enough in the past to catch glimpses of them, fins along the waves or eyes peeking over the calm water, but never to this extent. She was ethereal, he could feel himself being mesmerized by her at a glance. Her mouth was pressed against the open crack, gasping for air with her long dark hair streaming across her bare torso.

“Holy shit, captain. Is that a mermaid? An actual mermaid? God, she can’t even breath in that water,” Yunho is excited, pressing closer to get a better look. Hongjoong pushes himself up forcefully, anger seeping into him and his rage fueling the fire of hate he has for the lying scum who led them here.

“He’s got her trapped here, in a tiny fishbowl in the dark with no fresh air. I shouldn’t have let him go, he doesn’t deserve to breathe,” Hongjoong clenches his fist and squeezes his eyes shut, the regret taking over. He was here now, and he needed to do something to help her. He steps up to the tank, closer than Seonghwa and even Yunho. He goes to place his hands against the rusty metal lid of the ramshackle tank and as he moves so does she. Her eyes are wide, and she ducks down into the corner of the tank. She’s still in sight, watching them carefully to see what they’ll do. Hongjoong tries shifting the lid, but there’s something blocking the back corner making it too difficult to push farther than a foot. It was more space than she’d had before, but still not enough to be able to lift her out of the tank. He steps back a bit, keeping his eye on her as she swims up to the now larger gap. She lifts her head through, neck coming up but getting caught at her shoulders. She’s still scared, but her eyes give way to her curiosity.

“Hello there. My name is Hongjoong, and this is Seonghwa and Yunho,” he starts with pointing out his crew mates as an introduction, “We’re not here to hurt you, in fact I think we’ll be the ones to help you escape this nightmare. What’s your name?” The mermaid is silent for a few more moments, not wanting her naivety and blind trust to show too easily.

“My name is [Y/n],” she replies airily, “and just how exactly do you expect to get me out of here when you can’t even open the lid?” She taunts him lightly, wanting to test his patience and see the type of man he is. He does nothing but smile back to her, amusement at her immediate wit apparent. He calls over the other two and has them search for whatever they could use to pry it open far enough to get her out. They return with a long board and a crowbar along with an axe to hold it open once they pry the lid up.

“Alright, [Y/n], here’s the plan. These two are going to pry up the two sides enough to prop it open and slide you up and out, do you think that sounds alright?” Hongjoong knows when they lift the lid they must work fast, as the poor quality could cause for any sort of calamity. The mermaid nods and everyone gets to work. She swims up next to where they’re pulling up the edges, wanting this to be over fast. Hongjoong is there in front of her, their eyes meeting over the edge of the tank. He disappears for a moment to place a crate on the floor for him to stand on, giving him a better reach into the tank. He reappears in front of her, holding his hands out.

“They’re going to lift it up and then I’m going to help you out. Is it alright if I hold onto you while we get you out?” He asks, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yes that should be alright,” [Y/n] reaches out to him, her hand gripping onto his. His hands are warm to the touch, while hers are cold and starved for touch.

“Have you ever been out of water before? What happens when we take you out of here,” Hongjoong asks, mesmerized by her but worried for her safety.

“No, I’ve never been on land before, it’s quite exciting. I have no idea what will happen, let’s find out together,” [Y/n] says excitedly, gripping onto him tighter.

Hongjoong nods his head to Seonghwa and Yunho, indicating for them to lift. As the gap gets bigger he wraps his arms around where her torso and tail meet. He’s lifting her out when he loses his grip slightly, the crate underneath him cracking and sending his foot through. Hongjoong falls backwards, hands still wrapped around the mermaid, pulling her along with him. They land in a wet heap on the sharp rock floor, her landing on top of him soaking his shirt with her hair.

Yunho and Seonghwa release the lift on the lid as soon as they’re both out of the way, pushing it back into its original position to make it look as though no one had touched it. Their attention goes to the two in a pile on the floor, watching quietly as a slight shimmer runs over the mermaids tail, shimmering enough to blur it before lightening up to show a pair of legs instead of the scales and fin she was used to. Hongjoong removes his hands from her gently as she watches, she sits up and starts counting her toes and running her hands up her legs. Hongjoong is standing quickly, unbuttoning his damp shirt and taking it off before placing it around the now human looking woman’s shoulders. She looks up into his eyes with a deep smile on her face, her eyes full of excitement.

“Wow, I never thought I’d ever have legs like this. Please, can you help me stand up like the three of you,” [Y/n] asks, reaching her hands out to Hongjoong to lift her. He obliges, lifting her from her small waist to stand on her two feet like him. After a moment she looses her full strength and falls into him slightly, not used to the feeling.

“Careful, better to take it slow so you don’t fall down and hurt yourself,” Hongjoong says still gripping onto her waist, half her weight against him as they look into each others eyes. Yunho and Seonghwa exchange glances with eyebrows raised and smirks.

[Y/n] stands fully, stepping away from Hongjoong’s support. His hand seeks out hers at the loss of her waist, as she moves to take a few steps their fingers tips brush and they release each other, and a cold feeling sets into his hand at the loss of her touch. She finds her balance and is soon jumping and dancing in joy while the three men avoid gazing at her barely clothed body. Seonghwa pulls his bag off his back and retrieves a new shirt for the captain and a pair of trousers for the new human, which he also hands to Hongjoong to address.

“Is there anywhere you need to be? Anywhere we can take you,” Hongjoong asks while throwing the clean shirt on. [Y/n] stops prancing around the cave and comes to a stop in front of the tank, looking into it somberly.

“No, I don’t believe I’ve made any plans with anyone. I’ve got nothing going on. Oh, I suppose I told Josie the hammerhead I’d watch her new pup for her but that had to have a been a few months ago now…” she trails off quietly, thinking of the things she probably missed out on in her absence, “Looks like my schedule is all free for now, do you have any plans,” she turns around with a beaming smile on her face, pushing down the bad feelings. Hongjoong gestures for her to come closer, showing her the pants Seonghwa had pulled out for her to wear. If it were possible her smile got even brighter.

“I’ve always wanted my own pair of pantaloons! How exciting, it’s like i’m a real human now,” she chatters as Hongjoong helps her get into them, pulling them up her leg and buttoning them quickly before he let his thoughts wander too much. It was hard not to think of how soft her skin was, how it was smooth and unmarked to everyone’s touch, except for his now.

“Well, our only plan was finding all of the treasure that rotten Willoughby had stashed away here. Now that that’s all ours, we had planned to relax on the beach and eat good food and sing songs until we decide where to go. Would you like to join us and meet the rest of the crew?” Hongjoong asked her gently, not expecting her to want to come with them anywhere and instead want to go back to the open ocean, just like he’s always escaping to.

“There’s even more of you guys, oh wow I can’t wait to meet them. Please, take me with you,” [Y/n] grasps onto his hand, curiosity and happiness beaming off her in contagious waves. Hongjoong beams back at her, heating her up from head to toe. They turn towards Seonghwa and Yunho, who are getting the last few of the things they wanted this evening with them. They would bring a few more crew mates out here tomorrow morning to collect fully before thinking about departing from the island for their next adventure.

The walk back to the beach took longer than they’d expected due to the constant discovery [Y/n] was doing having never seen anything like the jungle before. She wanted to caress every leaf to see the texture and giggled exuberantly when a few butterflies were following her, landing on her arms and hand. Hers eyes were wide with childlike wonder, and Hongjoong almost felt jealous at her excitement to be on land. He had always had trouble with it, but he could understand considering this island felt more peaceful than any island he had been to before. The sounds of the forest were happy, and he could still hear the waves crashing against the beach a little bit away. He felt like it was easy to breathe here, and he wasn’t sure if that was from the jungle or the life that the mermaid had breathed into him. He watched her fondly as she experienced this new experience, while Seonghwa and Yunho trekked ahead to inform the others about the new guest.

It wasn’t long before [Y/n]’s curiosity changed from the environment to the possibility of new friends. She walked carefully along the path Hongjoong was making, stumbling slightly until he reached a hand out behind to grip onto hers to stabilize her. She continued holding his hand and walking closely as they neared the new people, feeling a bit shy. She could hear the chatter coming from the group, peeking over Hongjoong’s shoulder as they near. There were three new faces there, and the five of them had their eyes immediately on her as soon as they saw her look over his shoulder. Yunho and Seonghwa had encouraging smiles on their faces, while the other three portrayed disbelief and confusion. Hongjoong pulls her from behind him to stand at his side, hands still clasped but using his other hand to point out each of the new people.

“[Y/n], this are my friends and crew mates. The tall one next to Yunho is Mingi, the one between Mingi and Seonghwa is San, and the one on the end is Wooyoung. Everyone, this is [Y/n], and she’ll be joining us for the time being,” Hongjoong introduces everyone as they each wave at their names. [Y/n] tugs him excitedly along the beach to get near the new additions. They were all dressed so interestingly, all different styles and accessories. That was always one thing she’d heard gossip about from the members of her community, land people fashion. Accessories were easy enough to come across in the ocean, all sorts of rings and diamond earrings. But clothes were more difficult, they were either damaged from age or accident, and they never quite looked as good underwater as on land. She quickly pulls Mingi’s hands into hers and admires his rings.

“I love your rings Mingi, they look so cool. I had a ring that looked just like that one once,” she chatters happily as she pointed to a skull and crossbones ring on his middle finger. Before Mingi could even reply, she was darting off to stand in front of Wooyoung, getting in his space as she examined the earring he was wearing.

“Wooyoung, that earring is so cool, look I’m wearing one that could match it! I found it in a shipwreck a little while before that awful Willoughby snatched me up. Look,” she pulls her dark hair back over her shoulder as she lets him take a look at the identical earring in her right ear. Wooyoung’s hand goes up to his left ear, feeling the earring he hadn’t taken off in years.

“Funny story about this earring actually. I had a friend when I was younger who had a pair of earrings that he found in the sand while digging around- beautiful gold hoops with a pearl dangling down. He offered one to me and we each wore one to show our deep friendship for each other. My friend passed away a few years ago in a shipwreck, while he was wearing that earring. Maybe you found the one that was his,” Wooyoung explains, feeling somber at the memories. He hears sniffling and looks up from his thoughts to catch [Y/n]’s eye, full of tears and a sad look on your face.

“That might be the saddest story I’ve ever heard Wooyoung, but it must be fate that brought us together, I found it for you,” she says as she’s tugging it out of her ear and placing it in his hand, closing his fingers around it and placing her hand on top of his. She gives him a soft smile as a tear drops from his eye, before he pulls her in for a tight hug.

“It’s a surprise that Willoughby didn’t take it off of you when he snatched you up,” Hongjoong says, coming up next to them and placing his hand on her back lightly.

“Well, he tried once or twice. But my friend Josie, the hammerhead I told you about earlier, she taught me to bite anyone who got near my face if I didn't want them to be there,” [Y/n] explained cheerily.

“Some sound advice from Josie, I like her already,” Wooyoung says with humor.

“With introductions here over, how would you feel about coming onto the Illusion and meeting the last two before having a nice warm meal. Yeosang said he would be cooking a hearty stew this evening,” Hongjoong questions. [Y/n] feels as though this is the adventure she’s always been looking for, and is more than delighted to experience these new things with Hongjoong and his crew.

After that it was easy to bond with the crew, and even easier to bond with its captain due to the crew’s appreciation for her. She met Yeosang and Jongho respectively, who were nothing but welcoming. They traveled together for a while building friendships with each of them, before the captain formally invited her to become a crew member aboard the Illusion. Accepting immediately, she shared in many adventures with the crew, on land and sailing the seven seas.

The entire crew was astonished when one day she jumped into the water off of the crows nest, a daunting feat. The crew panicked momentarily as they hadn’t seen her resurface quickly, worrying for her life. As the entire crew was leaning over the railing, the captain getting ready to leap in after her, she suddenly resurfaced, leaping from the water with a shimmering pearl-like tail that took their breath away. The joy and happiness radiating from her clung to them like glue, leading them each to jump into the calm waters and play in the ocean for a while.

The sun was setting when the captain mustered up his courage to swim over to the mermaid. She was fiddling with seashells and seaweed in her hands, creating what looked to be a makeshift crown. As he approached, she turned to him with a smile and offered it out to him. He happily placed it upon his head, although crookedly. [Y/n] giggles as she swims right up to him, adjusting it on his head. Hongjoong’s hands grip her waist like the first time they had met, gently but pulling her towards him. He’s looking at her with red cheeks and parted lips, before leaning down and placing his lips on hers.

“I’m really happy you didn’t bite me,” Hongjoong jests.

“Why would I bite the person I’ve wanted in my face since I was rescued by them,” [Y/n] jokes back before connecting their lips together again.

They shared their first kiss under the pink and orange sunset and in the calm cool waves that they both loved, but many more followed in all sorts of interesting scenarios.

[simpleeindulge]

It's a Work in Progress

Context: This takes place after a few months of Law setting sail for the first time with Shachi, Bepo, and Penguin. They are a new pirate crew finding their way to the Grand Line. Desperate for funds, Law’s crew resort to kidnapping.

Info: fem/readerxLaw, kidnapping, 1st time meeting, slow-burn romance, multiple parts, cursing, mild threats of violence.

Chapter 1

Ch 2. And You Are…?

Law’s eye visibly twitched at the woman’s words. Of all the things she could have said, she chose to threaten him? Was she that spoiled and stupid?

“I take that you are not a princess.”

“No, I am not.” The woman confirmed sternly and did not offer any other information.

Law internally groaned. From her posture to her eyes and facial expression, he could tell that she was going to make every step of this blasted kidnapping difficult. I should get it over with and throw her into the ocean.

His grey eyes looked her over, taking in her elaborate dress and jewelry.

"But you are a noble."

"Obviously." She quipped. "And you are?"

Her eyes scanned him over exactly as he had done to her, and without tipping her head, she was somehow looking down at him despite being shorter!

"Your captor, that's who, so drop the snobbery. You just went from valuable to basic goods."

"Basic." She repeated with the corner of her lip turned out in amusement.

"That's right," Law smirked back at her. "You're just another noble girl who's full of herself. We could go to any kingdom and find clones of you. The only thing that separates you is how much your family will pay for your return."

The girl then giggled and laughed outright. Penguin and Shachi glanced at each other and then at Law, who was equally perplexed.

She stopped laughing and let out a long sigh.

"You see, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Nobody."

Law's brow twitched. Definitely going to toss her in the ocean. No amount of money is worth her snark!

"My name is Trafalgar Law." He gritted out.

"As I said, a nobody."

Law made to move, but Shachi stepped in quickly.

"Hey now, aren't you a bit cocky for someone being held active by pirates?" He said with a light laugh, though he didn't know why; it must have been the tension between Law and the woman.

She didn't bother looking in Shachi's direction as she spoke in a sweet tone that dripped with condensation.

"Yes, rookie pirates with the most original idea of capturing a princess. Such a basic plan, and your crew couldn't pull it off."

Law growled and looked at Bepo. “Toss her overboard!”

Bepo gaped, and Shachi and Penguin begged Law to rethink his plan. The woman only looked slightly nervous which made him smirk. He was about to repeat his orders when the ship suddenly jolted.

Bepo steadied the woman as she grabbed for him. Before anyone could ask, the ship rocked again, and one of the newest crew members rushed to the doorway.

“Captain! The Royal fleet! They're shooting at us!”

Law looked visibly surprised. Why would a Royal fleet come after them instead of the Navy or Marines over a regular noble? Law then realized his mistake and snapped his head to the woman. He made an assumption before getting more information. A mistake he would have never made before! Damn this woman!

“Who are you?!”

“Lady Y/N Dávila, third cousin to the crown princess, twice removed from her mother’s side.”

She said simply.

The ship rocked again but this time an explosion was heard. Law shouted orders to his men to move the Polar Tang. Law was about to walk past Y/N when he stopped and glared at her.

“I guess I won't be throwing you overboard.”

“Does this mean I became valuable?”

She batted her lashes at Law and he scoffed.

“Hardly.”

He was about to leave the room when he thought of what she had first said.

“What did you mean by, ‘You fucked with the wrong noble family’?”

“Oh, that,” she replied with a laugh. “My father is in charge of the Royal fleet and is…insane.”

Law did not like the way Y/n said that last bit without any arrogance or pride. She even paled a tad at the thought of her father’s mental state.

“You should probably direct your men to do something. Father will probably sink us in an attempt to rescue me. He can get carried away.”

Now she looked nervous and gasped as the ship rocked again, obviously taking another hit. Bepo kept her on her feet once more and Law snapped his attention to him.

“Bepo! Go navigate the ship to a safe location. We need to move and dive before we take any more damage.”

“Yes, Captain!” Bepo cried and immediately left the room.

Y/n watched Bepo leave and then eyed Law carefully. They were alone in the room but she didn't for a second that it increased her chances of escape. She tried to stand straight but the ship rocked once more as it moved while being under attack.

Her hands were still tied before her, so Y/n had to widen her stance under her gown to keep her balance. Her heels didn't help, and she cursed her lady’s maid for not letting her wear the ankle boots. The dress was so long and wide that no one would have noticed.

It felt ridiculous to sway around in a ball gown while trying to put on a brave face. Because she was afraid, terrified. They didn't cover Pirate Abduction 101 in her studies. Discussing pirates as a young unmarried lady wasn't even proper, though they all did it behind their matriarch's back.

The truth was that Y/N had heard of a new rookie pirate named Trafalgar Law. Some nasty rumors surrounded him, and now she was alone in a room with him.

I just had to get plucky with him! Mother always said my rash behavior would get the best of me.

She nervously grinned at the thought, considering that her father might drown her first.

"I wouldn't be so confidant, if I were you."

Y/n glanced up and blinked in surprise. Law was right in front of her. He pushed her, but she made a slight sound as she fell back into an armed chair. Was that chair there before?

Law put his hands on the armrest and leaned in close. His eyes held her captive as she sat with her back pressed. She had to work to breathe and made the mistake of letting her mask of indifference and superiority fall. Like blood in the water, Law smelled her fear and was ready to strike.

"Tell me, if I hand you over right now will your lunatic of a father cease his attack?"

Y/N shook her head. She could hear cannonballs flying and hitting the water around them.

"And if I hulled you on deck and showed you to him?"

Y/N laughed nervously. "That would be like baiting a starving dog. He'll probably aim a shot at you and hope that I survive."

Law growled and slammed his hand down. He knew she wasn't lying because every shot made at the Polar Tang was meant to sink it. An insane but effective tactic. Part of the new repairs made to the ship were already damaged again!

"If I may," Y/n offered carefully. "I might be able to help get us away from my father's bold rescue attempt."

Law stared her down, and Y/n didn't wait for his approval as she explained her plan.

Chapter 3

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

So Izzy said a thing.

The thing seems to be a part of a redemption arc and makes him sound like a human rather than a monster.

The Canyon went wild with joy and jubilation. The haters are doing everything they can to rationalize the thing in a way that would fit their point of view. One of these things makes me feel like a part of a wonderful, welcoming, and very queer community. The other makes me perplexed, annoyed, and sad at the same time - in a way that feels very personal.

OFMD is an explicitly and unapologetically queer show. And not just that, it shows a variety of non-normative behaviors (Jackie’s polyamory, Geraldo’s humiliation kink, Lucius and Pete’s penchant for “having an audience” to say nothing of Izzy’s masochistic tendencies) in a completely non-judgmental way, making the viewer feel like all ways of performing one’s sexuality are valid.

Izzy wants to be a part of this world. For all his anger and manipulations, and (yes, let’s call him out for the sake of fairness) his abusive behaviors, he desperately wants to be a part of the world where he is free to love who he loves, in whatever way he is capable of doing so. No matter how much the haters don’t want to acknowledge it, this is ultimately a story about love. Both Con and Daddy Jenkins admitted Izzy is in love with Edward and the fact that the antis are willing to contradict not only the actor (who, may I remind you, was instrumental in shaping Izzy’s character) but also the showrunner is very symptomatic of the larger issue of how queer people have been treated in society.

No one in their right mind chose to become a pirate unless they had no other option. Piracy was fraught with constant danger and meant being an outsider everywhere. The only place one could be more or less safe was between people in the same lifestyle. In OFMD that is represented by the Republic of Pirates, where not being a pirate would get one in trouble. Sure, there is some violence but it comes with the territory and - much more importantly - it’s never motivated by someone being a pirate.

Izzy claims to hate the Republic - and for someone as repressed as him it makes sense. There are people being a different kind of a pirate than Izzy would like there - drunk, rowdy, and undisciplined. He clearly takes great pride in his work and has built his whole identity around being Blackbeard’s first mate. Seeing people be pirates while taking their responsibilities lightly doesn’t fit his worldview because he’s been taught that all of his energy should be spent protecting whatever freedom the pirates managed to carve out for themselves.

Someone once wrote that despite what the popular meme says, Izzy isn’t a real pirate dropped into The Muppet Treasure Island, but rather a hard boiled queer-coded character from a 50s noir movie dropped into today’s Pride. He’s had to keep vigilant against any threat for so long he hasn’t noticed that there was a way to be a pirate/queer and still enjoy one’s life. That one can like frilly robes and be a somewhat competent sea captain. That it is possible to pine for one’s boyfriend and keep one’s crew safe. That being soft doesn’t necessarily mean being weak.

He’s willing to do whatever it takes and sacrifice whatever has to be sacrificed (Stede’s life, Edward’s happiness, his own status of the loyal first mate) to keep his little pirate/queer world safe. It’s this conviction that puts him in the way of Ed and Stede’s relationship and makes him an antagonist. But - and it’s something the haters seem to be incapable of grasping - an antagonist doesn’t have to equal a villain.

Why does Izzy react so violently to Stede, exactly? Why is he willing to go against his captain's wishes in challenging Stede to a duel? Why does he sell Stede out, making a deal with the enemy in the process? Because Stede is a stranger infiltrating Izzy’s safe space. The English are a huge threat, sure, but they are easily identifiable from a distance. Stede seems to Izzy to be something far more dangerous - an outsider worming his way into the heart of Izzy’s world, where he can do truly irreparable damage. The English are cops who chase gay boys around the park. Stede has the potential of being an undercover cop sent into a queer bar in the 1930s to get the dirt on the patrons so they can be blackmailed and arrested.

Of course, he may not be that, but it’s a risk Izzy can’t allow himself to take. With his vision of what it means to be a pirate/queer he's sure he sees through Stede’s ruse. Now, I’m not trying to excuse abusive behavior, as some of Izzy’s choices were hurtful to everyone around him. But as a queer person I do have sympathy for someone (grossly) overreacting in defense of their safe space. Constant vigilance is an inherent part of the queer experience, especially for those living in conservative countries or remembering the times before the Pride.

Like, for example, Con does. Con, who - yes, I will repeat this because it’s super important here - played a huge part in shaping Izzy’s character. Con, who despite having a decades-long career where he often clearly gravitated towards queer characters, only got comfortable enough THIS YEAR (and thanks to this show and this fandom) to publicly come out. Con, who - as a friend wonderfully phrased it - is queer as in start a riot, not as in love wins.

And Izzy is the same. He is a start a riot pirate/queer in a show full of love wins pirates/queers. His way of being what he is is so totally different from everyone around him that it makes him an antagonist. (Sure, there are other start a riot queers in the show - Jim literally kills a man who wronged them and Lucius is very outspoken about his opinions in a way that makes him somewhat radical, but neither of them is as extreme in their ways as Izzy is and neither goes against the main characters’ romance thus becoming an antagonist.) But. The thing is, when you are a part of a minority, when you are being prosecuted and targeted for who you are, you need safe spaces. And those safe spaces need protection, because every freedom can be taken away if wrong people come to power. No doubt the queer movement would look much more tame and palatable to the bigots if we were all the love wins queers. But we desperately need the start a riot queers if we are to survive.

So yeah, you can say Izzy said what he said because he needs a structure and clear hierarchy in his life. He absolutely does. Some of it comes from his submissive and masochistic tendencies, sure (I wrote a lot about that, including a piece for the Above All Else zine). Some of it may come from neurodivergence (some people read Izzy as autistic, I’m not going to discuss this because as a neurotypical person I have nothing of value to say about it). But it also ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY comes from the desperate need to protect his safe space from outsiders.

And there is one more thing the haters conveniently forget about: OFMD is also a show about growth. It’s about Stede turning from a wooden puppet into a real boy and then into a man. It’s about Edward learning there is a life beyond the legend of Blackbeard and peeling off at least some of the leather. And judging from the trailer, it’s about Izzy learning you can be a start a riot pirate while being accepting of the love wins pirates in your life. 

The more I think about it, the more likely I find it that Stede’s “I don’t care what anybody says, he’s actually a good guy” line from the teaser refers to Izzy. But even if it doesn’t, I am 100% sure the haters will be proven wrong. This show never relied on stereotypes and cliches. In fact, it actively does everything to break them (from Jim’s sacred quest for revenge ending up with them befriending Jackie to the only names that get mispronounced being those of white characters) while killing off the real enemies of the pirate/queer crew (Badmintons, Jack, Geraldo) and giving all its characters place to grow.

So, maybe one day we will all learn to love Izzy? 

[huihuiheart]

Queen's Conch - Pirate! Ateez - 3- Eye On You

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Queen’s Conch Masterlist

Pairing:  Pirate! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Mystery and Thriller if you squint

Summary: The man who had been spending his time with you on the beach was not who he seemed to be. Not that you knew that of course. It simply meant things were not as simple as they appeared to be.

Warnings: Deep sea, spells, magic, violence in future chapters, smut in future chapters, cursing, storms.

Word Count: 2192

“See I knew the name tiny fit you,” Jongho says smirking down at you smugly as he begins to bully his thick cock into you. You’re twitching, still hypersensitive from three slowly drawn-out orgasms on his fingers before this. If they thought you a siren then surely Jongho was an incubus with how he was able to pleasure you so skillfully, finding all of the best spots. Including ones you didn’t know that you had.

“You’ll be so full of me that you won’t feel lonely for a long time. I’ll fuck you right to sleep without any worries at all.” Jongho continues to speak filth as he leans down to kiss the side of your head now. Cooing soft hushes to your incoherent babbling, “Don’t try to speak tiny, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

It’s like Jongho has you under a spell. You no longer attempt to say anything once he says that. Only moans and cries of pleasure as you drown in the pleasant feeling of him stretching you out. The only thing you still mumble out are his name, and how big he is, and he swears there’s something new you’re calling him, but he can’t quite tell what the word is.

“What’s that tiny?” He asks, leaning in to hear you better, but only further pinning you into the sheets with his weight.

“My bear.” You mumble out, clinging to his shoulders, nails leaving marks in their wake.

Jongho knows that should be a softer, more endearing title, but the way he feels after you say it while so fucked out and clawing at him has him losing his mind. His grip tightens, hips meeting your thighs even harder now as he speeds up with the intent of getting deeper and going harder. Growling out through gritted teeth as he can’t help but lean in to scatter love bites over your throat.

“Your bear? You came to your bear for a good fuck, didn’t you? What? Did you want someone to be feral and rough with you?” Jongho’s slightly mocking as he asks.

“Yeah… yes… so good Jongho… this is what I wanted.” You’re babbling an answer to him as you nod desperately. 

“Well, then you came to the right place.” Jongho accentuates his words with a couple of very sharp thrusts against the spot that he found you particularly like, “There’s just one problem though.” 

You’re shaking your head, insisting there isn’t, “No. Nothing is wrong.”

“Oh, but there is a problem, tiny. You see, the thing about bears is… They. Breed.” He growls into your ear, thrusting to punctuate those last two words as his tip brushes against your cervix with them, showing how deep he really can get. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, head tossed back and eyes rolling as he does. Head fuzzy as you try to think this through, knowing how dangerous a game this was.

“Awe don’t you go overthinking it tiny. I’ll pull out.” Jongho coos his assurance, but his smirk is wicked, licking his lips as he looks over your form, “This time anyways.”

Your nails are down his back as you lose it. Jongho’s thumb rolling on your clit, providing it more stimulation than his occasional grinding motion was.

“Need you to cum for me tiny. I won’t last so you need to give it to me please.” His voice is soft, but demanding and it throws you over the edge. Jongho quickly pulls out to cum on your stomach, thumb on your clit keeping up his actions to ride you through your high.

You giving a dopey, fucked out smile up at him when you’re done. He chuckles at the sight, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“You were so good tiny.” Jongho praises, moving to get a cloth and some water from the basin in your room to wipe you down delicately, “How are you feeling though?” 

“I’m feeling so good.” You assure him and he nods, “Are you going to leave now though?”

“Only if that is what you would like.” Jongho tells you and when you reach for him he smiles, climbing back into the bed with you, “Are you gonna be able to sleep now?”

When you curl into his chest he smiles, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“I think so, yeah. I’m definitely worn out now and not in my head as much.” You tell him before thinking of something, “ Jongho, how come I hadn’t heard you use some more informal words until now? Like gonna or don’t? Like you, Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yeosang all speak so formally and the others don’t, why?”

“That has to do with backgrounds. See Hongjoong’s story isn’t really mine to tell, but he grew up on a pirate ship. So his father was adamant about money education and map reading, but not much else. His mother however was big on him being well educated and eloquent. Seonghwa is from a well-off family, he comes from money. He hated the expectation though and so when he met Hongjoong the thought of being that free appealed to him. Well so did the thought of being with Hongjoong constantly. Not long after they started their crew they found me. I don’t have a background like them which is why I’ll slip in my speech more and stuff. I was on the streets until they offered me a place… I was 14 so they taught me quite a bit. That’s also when I fell in love with books. Yeosang was more from lower middle class, but his intelligence got him a place in medical studies so he’s also highly educated. Whereas the other four; Yunho, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung don’t have a background like that. Some of them still struggle with reading even. They have gotten better since being on board though.” Jongho explains, not going into too many details about anyone’s personal stories. Saving that for you to learn if each individual man felt comfortable. 

You hum as you listen to his explanation, “I forgot there was a time when not everyone got an education.” 

Jongho’s brows furrow, “Oh? In the future it’s different?”

“Well not worldwide, but in most places everyone gets a basic standard education. Countries with more send assistance to others too, so that they can have the resources for education. Then in most countries, you can pay to get additional education in something specific.” You explain and he listens intently.

“That sounds like a better system. No one deserves to be denied education.” Jongho nods as he thinks about what it would be like.

“Obviously it's not perfect, but yeah.” You add and he nods in understanding. 

“Yeah, I feel bad for the boys who can’t read though. I’ll read to them sometimes, but to think that they could have been able to learn that…” Jongho says before flustering at the look you give him, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s so sweet bear.” Your words only fluster him even more, making you giggle at how shy he got.

“You need to rest… and to not call me bear again tonight if you want to be able to walk in the morning still,” Jongho says the last part as both a warning and a promise. You have to will away the thoughts it brings up to successfully doze off.

Somehow managing to do so. Only to wake up from a wet dream of him, not one entirely your fault, not when registering that Jongho was between your thighs. Lapping over your cunt and moaning at the taste, only getting louder when your fingers weave into his hair.

“Jongho? What… What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly and still groggily trying to register what was happening.

“I have to start getting things done soon, but didn’t want to just leave you.” He’s quick to explain so that his mouth can give your cunt its full attention again. He’s working you desperately, but still softer than he was last night, “Gonna make you cum before I go. Gonna start your morning… and mine, the right way tiny.”

It truly doesn’t take him much to follow through on that and have you cumming in his mouth. Pushing you back when you move to return the favor.

“Not now tiny. I really do have to go. I’ll be fine for now.” Jongho assures you, leaning in for a kiss and letting you taste yourself on his tongue before he’s off. 

You take your time getting up and ready, knowing that you won’t be needed until breakfast anyway. Well… you still weren’t technically needed for anything since Hongjoong still refused to tell you anything about what you should be doing. Insisting you take it easy until the time comes. You eventually get up and make your way to breakfast for now though.

“Well looks like someone had a good time last night. Question is, who with?” Wooyoung teases, “Who made our lil siren feel good, hm?”

“Don’t worry about it Wooyoung.” You answer but are flustered. Not knowing how he could tell until Seonghwa clears his throat and gestures to a mirror, showing how many marks are littered over your neck. Something you hadn’t noticed in the room without a mirror. Seonghwa attempting so hard not to smirk, but almost cracking at the stunned face you make. Hongjoong whistles at the sight when he enters a moment later.

“Damn, someone did a number on your treasure.” He says coming over to get a better look as Seonghwa closes in behind. Hongjoong’s index finger lifts your chin to fully see and to make you look him in the eyes, “Who did you do it with treasure?” 

Hongjoong smirks when you shrink under his gaze some, “I’m not mad treasure, you are allowed whatever pleasures you desire on board… I am however jealous.”

You were still trying to determine how to answer him when Jongho walked in from working shirtless and sweaty. Marks from your nails the previous night were displayed rather openly. 

“Well, it appears we have our answer captain.” Seonghwa can’t contain his smirk now.

Jongho’s brows furrowed as he takes in what is going on, “Hey! Leave her alone! We did nothing wrong!”

“Oh, Jongho I told her as much. I was simply saying that we were jealous too. Did you not tell her how we have all wanted a taste?”  Hongjoong raises a brow at the youngest.

“Well no… we were slightly preoccupied.” Jongho counters, reaching out to get you from between Hongjoong and Seonghwa, “Besides is this really an appropriate discussion to have with a lady over breakfast?” 

“Fair enough, we can always circle back to that later.” Hongjoon agrees fairly easily all things considered. Allowing for a relatively peaceful and calm breakfast. As much as it could be those things with all of the men there anyway. They slowly tricking out as they finish breakfast and go to their assigned tasks this morning. Wooyoung is last to go, leaning in to whisper something to you before leaving you and Hongjoong alone.

“Had that been me last night siren… You’d’ve not been able to leave marks.” Is all he whispers leaving the rest open to your imagination, winking as he walks off.

Hongjoong clears his throat to get your attention when he sees you spacing out now, “As I said treasure… You can indulge in whatever pleasures you like. You are just so very tempting to all of us, so we may get jealous and you will likely have to let us know where we each stand with you should that become too much.”

You nod in understanding, allowing Hongjoong to help you up onto the deck then. Only around early afternoon the sky darkens out of nowhere. The seas quickly gets choppy as the boat is pulled into a nasty storm that has simply popped up. You and everyone else drenched a matter of seconds later. Your grip on the ship is firm as you try not to slide across the deck. San lifting you up onto your feet in passing.

“Easy precious, hold onto the railin and stay there in case ya get sick.” San encourages you before running off to help Jongho, Mingi, and Yunho secure everything.

Only as you look over the railing you see a shimmer in the ocean. The shimmering form follows along with you, it surfacing to look you in the eyes. Finding that for some reason they looked just like yours. Almost eerily so. It has you looking around to see which of the boys is nearby.

“Yeosang! What is that?” You ask, only removing your grip from the railing long enough to point. 

“I’ll be seeing you again very soon my dear Y/N.” She speaks to you before disappearing into the water again as Yeosang suddenly shows up to peer over the railing.

“Captain! We have sirens on our hands!” Yeosang calls over to the captain who curses under his breath.

“Wooyoung! Get Y/N below deck! If sirens are involved this is no ordinary storm. We are in for a rough one boys!”

[starillusion13]

FRIENDS!? Chapter 4

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

M.Masterlist Series ML

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere, SMUT

Warning: The upcoming events in the story will contain themes like stalking, violence, obsession, manipulation, possessive behaviour and restraining acts. Do not kill me for not warning you. This is an Yandere story so you are well aware of what to expect more. For SMUT I WILL GIVE THE WARNING IN THE BEGINNING. (In this chapter, two Ateez members being harsh(?) to mc.)

W.C: 3.4K+

For my beloved: @oreharuuu

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

*under the cue*

“Welcome on the first day as an intern to BBO, The great Blue Bird Organization. “

You chuckle on the dramatic greetings from your supposed to be one of the bosses. He is standing in the middle of the pathway leading to the main entrance of the building from where the view of the building is perfect and the sun rays hitting the glass walls, reflecting luxury and high status of the environment. Your eyes shine when you see the logo of the company of a blue bird sitting on top of the pirate ship and the name displayed underneath it with black and orange mixtures of colour. You wonder for a while what does that blue bird even refer to. Your focus averted to the flower bouquet offered in front of you.

“This is for you, cupcake.”

“Thanks, Wooyoung. Well, you know I want to know why do you keep calling me this name. Is this the nickname you gave me when we were friends?”

“…yes...Do you not like it?”

“Of course, I like it. Also, we should head inside. I have to learn a lot about my work on my first day so it’s better not to be late.”

Nodding to your words, he leads your way inside the building. The guard doesn’t block your way today rather bows and greet you with a soft ‘Good morning’ to which you reply back with a smile. Wooyoung still holding your hand introduces you to some employees who were gathered in a group, faces all focused on the ongoing discussion. When he approached them, they quickly turn to him and greeted him and also, they welcome you on your first day. You are feeling so comfortable and welcomed to this new place as if you are meant to be in this office in the first place. As some people are giving you smiles and greetings and then there some with curious eyes and whispers. Honestly, you don’t mind all these because you would have done the same if the boss of a huge company treated a new intern so nicely in front of you. You are already familiar with the different desks and rooms in the first floor and you don’t have any works here unless any boss tells you for a particular stuff from there. This floor has the wide area with the reception place for queries and a waiting area two stairs above platform with sofas and different indoor plants with a great outside view through the grand glass windows and you can see people already waiting for their personal reasons. To the end of that corner is a room for employees to discuss over some private meetings with the customers and beside that room is a public washroom. And while on the other side of the reception, at the very end corner of the area is the different rooms for the grade D employees and to exact side of the reception desk is the elevator and the escalator. The escalators are basically used by employees and the lift is for bosses.

Just like the first day, you are going go to the eighth floor with him and when the elevator ‘ding’ announcing you the arrival to the desired floor, your heart picks up the race. You get remind of all the intense gazes from the bosses all together flashing back to you. Shaking of your thoughts, you try to keep your formal and cool composure even though your mind screaming to hide somewhere, ‘you are not yet prepared to meet all of them again.’ but here you are standing in front of that very familiar door from the first day. Similarly, like Yeosang, Wooyoung types out some passcode and scans the ID.

As soon as you stepped inside, Wooyoung clears his throat and your eyes land on the men spread all across the room. Seonghwa and Hongjoong at their usual desk with Jongho sitting at opposite to them, maybe they were in some discussions but now all three have their eyes on you with welcoming smiles. Hongjoong looks the happiest one on your arrival and he also stands on his feet to walk towards you. Reaching near you, he pats your head, “Did you make it here alright?”

You nodded on his words, “Thank you for asking, Hongjoong.”

He feels satisfied with you finally calling him by his name and not using those ‘sir’ with a bestfriend, well blame it on Jongho who insisted to call them like that in the first place. You can feel stares on you and when you look towards the other direction, you can find the others are already looking back at you but somehow the atmosphere is different in this corner.

‘Are they not happy with you being here?’

San as like the previous day is leaning against the bookshelf with glasses on and staring darkly and you can’t decipher the expression, well it’s not a major concern for you because the next two persons who are just a few feet away from him are the reason for why you suddenly gulp a lump. ‘What have I done to these two?’

“Yeosang and Yunho. Come on, don’t scare our precious girl. Be nice to her on the first day.”

Thanks to Mingi to divert your attention from them. You don’t even know why you were looking at them so long when they just look like are about to launch at you. Anyways, you return back the smile to him to which Mingi nods his head and turns back his focus on the papers laid in front of him. Your curious eyes precisely scan the papers but a soft hand on your shoulder breaks your trance. Looking towards the person, Wooyoung just greets you with a soft look on his face.

“Come Y/n. Sit here.”

Seonghwa gestures you to sit in front of him beside Jongho and you with a gentle smile, step forward to the chair. The rest of them return to their previous action. They want to just leave their work aside and sit with you to spend time talking with you but their works need to be done and they atleast need to be professional on your first day. Atleast for now. They can’t just let their beast out and scare you. They are trying their best to fight their inner self and be a gentle self of them in front of you.

“So, have you got the schedule?”

“Yes, Wooyoung has given me earlier and some of you have meeting in two hours. Let me check it again.”

You turn on the I-pad and select the desired schedule tab and go through it quickly. You know Hongjoong and Seonghwa are eagerly waiting for your response. After scanning the list twice, you nod to yourself and look back at them.

“So, Seonghwa you are having a meeting along with Mingi at 12:30 with The Dune Enterprise and also you will have the lunch time with them as you are going to discuss about the upcoming field project.”

Seonghwa nods and stands up to go towards the mirror situated in the corner. You haven’t noticed that mirror before but it’s okay as you were so tensed last time when you were being here. Hongjoong who is leaning to the desk beside you gestures you to keep going.

“Jongho has a conference to attend after the lunch and before that you need to have the employees altogether to discuss about the topic that will be presented.”

You watch how he glances to his watch and puts out his phone to dial someone. The next name makes you a bit sad because you don’t want to lose his company so soon on the very first day but you cant be like this now, so shaking your thoughts away, you start speaking.

“Woo, you need to be in the fifteenth-floor cabin as you will be attending the interviews of the selected candidates.”

“Woo?”

“Hm?”

“You called him Woo? Or am I just hearing things?”

Hongjoong’s words click in your mind that your tongue slips with his nickname you started calling since earlier because the comfort and friendliness you are getting from him. To your confused and scared face, he laughs at you and pats your head.

“Don’t worry! I’m not scolding you. It’s just nice to hear you calling him in such a friendly way and getting along with each other.” You smile at him and again he adds, “Wooyoung, let me go along with you as I need to have some overview for some details.”

You cast a glance towards the fancy digital clock in the room and notice how almost two hours have been passed with your arrival and greetings and discussions about their schedules. You notice that the names you have called earlier are beginning to move out of the room and then when your panic starts picking up. Why not? If those five are going to leave then you are being left alone with the three devils. The ones about whom you have complained to Beomgyu so much and he had just laughed it off with calling you a ‘scaredy cat’.

‘If only he was here to face them then only, he could know my feelings.’

“Are you all leaving now?”

“As per the schedule, we have been told to be in our designated places by now. Why, do you need something?”

Everybody stops on their tracks on hearing him. Mingi just innocently blinks and recalling if he asked you something wrong. But when he follows their eyes, they are trailing on you and asking silently for your needs. They can bring anything to your foot at the time and can do anything even cancelling their schedules just to listen to you. Feeling so much attention on you, you feel overwhelmed. Somehow, you feel their gazes to have the comfort of a home, a safe place and as if those are screaming some missing pieces of your life from past but you are trying to ignore them. It can’t be. Even if they are your friends, they were nothing more than that, you guys were nothing except maybe classmates or used to hang out together after classes.

Your main question is ‘why don’t you remember then?’

Now they are complete strangers to you but somehow in the corner of your mind, you still feel something you are missing out with them. You look towards Wooyoung, who calls you with the nickname and you are not complaining to it, these three days talking to him and also during the text messages, you feel so comfortable with him. Then your eyes move towards Mingi who is eagerly waiting for you to voice out your problem.

“No. Um…have a great day ahead all of you.”

They smile to your little attempt to cheer them up for the day and step out of the room. Well, God should show you some mercy or let the ground engulf you. Wait, I’m on eighth floor so no ground but you are going to fall on the next floor. How unfortunate for you to be left alone with them even on the first day! Atleast you should have got some days to adjust to this new place and then maybe you could have expected a day like this.

“Are you going to daydream about your boyfriend standing there?”

Your lost eyes which were still staring at the closed metal door move towards the voice. The tall man with folded hands above his chest standing few feet away staring straight at you with an annoyed expression.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Lies. Are you just going to lie on your first day here?”

“What? I’m not lying, honestly.”

“Well, that’s not the information I got from your university. I heard how you were in relationship with a guy named ‘Mark’ in freshman year and Beomgyu made you break up with him because he was toxic for you. So, this second guy is your present boyfriend, I presume.”

“No. He is my bestfriend.”

He makes ‘tsch’ sound to which a frown appears on your face as why there is so much problem for him to believe your words. Also, it’s not his concern if you are being in relation with your friend or not. You are his past bestfriend and present employee at his office.

“Always sticking to each other like a glue and him being all possessive over you doesn’t suit the bestfriend term.”

“Well, a true bestfriend suit him the most then.”

“What do you mean?”

His glaring eyes and stomping of his feet come closer to you but you didn’t flinch on his sudden action but confidently looking up into his eyes to reply him back.

“A true bestfriend will always look after their friend in every matter and not letting them to disappear from their eyes as far as possible. Who will always stay beside you to say that ‘It’s okay, I’m here for you.’ I’m glad to get him during my highschool.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. He opens his mouth to speak but your hand gestures him to be quiet and surprisingly, your daring eyes and stern gestures made him silent and he didn’t even try to fight it back.

“Also, you are just my boss here so it’s not your concern to know about your employee’s certain personal life matters. I’m your secretary here and even if we were friends doesn’t mean I will let you to invade in my personal information.”

“Well well well. You have become so feisty after growing up. Even last day, you were so shy and scared little Y/N same as from those days.”

Yeosang approaches with clapping his hands and that heavy voice spreading goosebumps on your skin as you can suddenly recall about the day how he shouted on you.

Yunho is still staring at you but his eyes are soft, not having that rage from before but somehow those are still stinging with the rising fire behind the soft façade. Somehow, you praising another male in front of him is not setting right and he won’t be letting this slide easily. He wants to be the reason for the praises you are showering on someone else, he wants to be the one on whom you can rely during your problems but never in a while he wants to be the one to be considered by you as just a boss. He cant be just a boss to you.

“Don’t bring up that past everytime when you are going to be like this, Yeosang.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, so don’t you remember how you shouted on me the last day you were here? I just wanted to have some time to take a proper decision but your impatience just kicked out. Look, I know you all are happy to get your lost friend back and am happy as well knowing that there were some friends out here waiting for me but it doesn’t mean you will treat me as your doll under your control.”

“Doll……”

“Yes, that’s how you want me to be.”

“Doll…...” he pauses for a second, “you remember this name?”

“huh?”

“Starting from today, you cant have any relationship with anyone. This is the first rule for you being our secretary.”

Since the first day you met this guy, his tendency is not to complete any sentence and keep you in confusion.

“Are you serious?”

“Very much.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“I can arrange for an official printed rules and regulation for you if you want, Miss Y/N.” You peek to San over Yeosang’s shoulder, who is standing beside you similarly the way Yunho is towering you in front. You are feeling cornered and under some sort of interrogation. San is sitting on the sofa with a laptop on his lap but he is smirking at you after offering you a not-so-lovely arrangement.

Yunho got a call and without glancing anywhere else but you, fishes out the phone and presses to his ears. “Hello.” His tone is harsh as if the person on other side of the call is interrupting some important business of his or he is least interested to have a talk with them, either way, you just have to face his burning self.

“I don’t care about his fucking offer.”

Now Why do I feel like he is talking to me? You try to avert your eyes everywhere but him and this is not to his accord. He is not liking the loss of your focus on him so suddenly he grabs your chin and moves you face facing him. Your eyes go wide and mouth forms an ‘o’ shape.

“What are you doing?” you merely whisper but Yeosang from your side shush you and leans forward to whisper in your ears.

“You don’t want to disturb his call and make him mad. Right?”

You deny quickly with moving your head sideways to which he gives you a satisfactory smile and pats your head before resting his hand on your lower back. Your eyes again found Yunho’s and you can see the tensed jaws and veins popping on his forehead. He must be really angry.

Your already shaking eyes go wide when he mouths the next thing to you, ‘If this person don’t cut the call in next five seconds, then I’m going to kiss you.’

And again he goes back to the call.

Five.

His fingers brush your lips softly and lingering over there.

Four.

He leans forward.

Three.

“I said, I don’t want.” he replies to the phone but still maintaining the eye contact with you.

Two.

You can feel his breathe fanning over your lips and you close your eyes and lean backward but Yeosang’s hand keeps you in place.

“Yunho. Step back.”

One. ‘phew’

A great thanks to Hongjoong who suddenly entered the scene with the two of them cornering you near the main desk and San enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him, abandoning his work. The eldest has the annoyed expression on his face and harshly pulled Yunho back and he cuts the call.

“Who was on the call Yunho and what were you trying to do?”

“That bullshit company.” He replies and looks at you smirkingly.

“Y/N. Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks you.

“Hm. I just need to use the washroom.”

He nods and without wasting a second, you excuse yourself but before leaving, Yeosang grabs your hand and the way he is looking at you, you can tell that he is trying to say something to you. But what? I want to listen to you but you are scaring me everytime. You shake your hand off from his hold and left the room.

As soon as you made into the hallway, you let out a deep breathe and tug your hairs behind your ears. Quickly, fishing out the phone from your pocket, you dial the last number and hoping the person to pick up while making your way towards the washroom. On your way, you bump into someone but formally, you with a politeness let the person go. The person must be in hurry like you. The call is not answered and mentally, you made a note.

‘The first two persons whom I’m going to add to my friends list is Wooyoung and Hongjoong and I have to know everything about them. How were we before?’

You smile to your own thoughts and go inside the washroom.

“What was that, Yunho?”

“What? You just interrupted an interesting part.”

Hongjoong just glared back, not liking the reply from him.

“You both were letting him do that to her?”

They laughed on his words and San proudly nodded.

“Yeah. It was a nice show to be honest. If I were you, I would have waited for one more second.”

Hongjoong banged his fist on the desk catching all of three attention. The atmosphere of the room died down and covered with a thick silence.

“ let’s not forget, she is a different person now since the high school. We are not same as before. And you three are going to behave before we find out what happened in that past.”

Their smile disappeared and their heads uncontrollably nodded on his words. Afterall, he is the leader of the company and they are bound to listen to his orders.

Why are they so eager to know about her? Who are you to them? Friends right? Or something more than that? Who are they actually?

They are not lying to you. Right?

Next

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[rise-my-angel]

Tywin Lannister is the Spiders George of the Lannisters.

Tywin's villian origin story is literally that his father was unironically too nice. Tytos was known as the laughing lion, saw the good in everyone, gave out loans and didn't always care about making sure people paid him back, let his lords make fun of him, loved eating cheese and cakes and drinking beer.

Now did some of his bannermen take advantage of this? Yes of course, but Tywin literally was such a problem child that he went to such extremes to make up for his fathers kindness and threatened houses and violence to force people to pay loans back with money they didn't have. And against his fathers own wishes, did insane shit like wipe out House Reyne and Tarbeck, an act so horrifying it is the literal origin of the song The Rains of Castamere.

Even then, his father was so kind he left his shithead of a son a gigantic inheritance when he died. Only for Tywin to go on and remember his father as a weak man who nearly destroyed their house and name. Like okay Tywin. Yeah the Lords of the Westlands took advantage of Tytos's generosity but I think you're being a bit hyperbolic in pretending it was that bad. Like literally only Tywin is like this.

Look at the Lannisters we know outside of Tywin and his completely fucked up trio of fuck ups. You have Lancel, who at first looks like an outrageous loser. You have Ser Alton who seems to be competent but then he talks to Jaime like kind of a dorky fanboy. You have Willem and Martyn who were asking shit like "Does Robb Stark really turn into a wolf in the moonlight?" like you boys are 14 and 15 and asking this shit, thats adorable and hilarious.

But then you look at Tyland, whose in a situation that Jaime Lannister would've killed to be in. In Essos bartering with pirates/slavers/idk what they were but they were clearly not noblemen or anything. And to get their support, has to beat a hot, tall, blonde warrior woman in a mud wrestling competition.

AND HE IS MISERABLE. HE HATES IT. JAIME WOULD'VE BEEN THE HAPPIEST MAN ON EARTH WERE THAT HIM.

It makes Tywin and thus his kids that much more interesting, because it is not a family trait. Not like how the Targaryeans all seem to share this genetic trait of degenerate mental illness that makes them all have delusional god complexes.

Literally Tyland is proof that most Lannisters are just pencil pushing losers with no social skills, and it's all Tywin's fault his kids are total fuck ups.

[cuculine-nelipot]

The way I've seen people twisting themselves into knots trying to prove that Ed's treatment of Izzy does not constitute domestic violence is wild. My main question is, does it matter? Does it matter if it doesn't fall into the strictest definition of domestic violence? Does it take away from the fact that we know their relationship to be intimate, that that has been true for decades, that it has devolved into Edward repeatedly, intentionally inflicting pain on Izzy?

The biggest argument I've seen is that what happens between them somehow falls within the bounds of a pirate-typical employer/employee relationship. Cool story! Still abuse. Yes, much of the language frames their relationship as professional; Izzy calls Ed "captain", and Ed frames his mutilation of Izzy as punishment for insubordination or failure to do what was asked of him up to standard. Ed's talk with "Hornigold" might even suggest precedented, typical pirate behaviour. However, neither structure nor precedent means that it isn't abuse. It's still abuse. I'm not even going to bother with doing a deep dive into Ed's psychology and how his persistent framing of their relationship and his actions as "professional" very clearly stems from his inability to confront the truth of himself and, by extension, his feelings about other people, but it bears mentioning. We also see him designate Stede the role of "former shipmate" which we all know doesn't even begin to cover the scope of things - he just doesn't want Anne and Mary, or even Stede to know how personal it was and how deeply it affected him. We do have to contend with the fact that Izzy's and Edward's relationship is explicitly not just professional. They have known each other for decades, largely in the capacity of working together, yes, but they have also lived together for decades. The ship functions as a domestic space for them, and they have no other home. Yes, it's a working relationship, but that work is their entire lives - every aspect of their work directly contributes to the the maintenance of their home. (So yes, this is also means that there's an argument for Ed's treatment of the other crew members as a form of domestic violence.) Furthermore, they both admit to having love for each other - that does not fall within the bounds of a professional relationship. When Izzy's dying Ed says what we have already been shown - that they're family. The did not suddenly turn into family in that moment - unlike the mentor/father figure thing some people decided existed after the fact, we have been shown since the beginning that a great if indefinable intimacy does exist between them - they could not hurt each other as much as they have otherwise. Do you know what another term for domestic violence is? Intimate partner abuse. They had an intimate partnership in which one party had significantly less power than the other and was abused, and all this happened in the context of a shared home, therefore it's domestic violence. Et voilà. I know a lot of people don't particularly care for Izzy and want Ed to be more easily redeemable so we can better imagine his relationship with Stede working and being healthy, but it's just not the story we got. I'm also aware that the writers did not mean to tell a domestic violence story, may have even tried to avoid it with careful semantics, but it's the story they ended up telling anyway. As disappointed as we all are (I would have loved for this to have not happened, there are so many ways they could have explored Ed's and Izzy's dynamic without turning Ed into an abuser) it has to be taken into account now.

Also remember that a lot of people who see it as domestic do so because they have experienced domestic violence and can therefore better identify it when it doesn't fall into the neat, generalised framework we're taught. So I'm just asking everyone to take care how you talk and think about the subject because it is a slippery slope from applying one way of thinking to a piece of fiction, to applying it to reality, and that's a very dangerous game.

[din-miller]

Dress For The Job

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're used as bait during a mission on Nevarro. Din isn't pleased with the situation 

Warnings: angst mixed with a good amount of fluff, gender neutral reader but reader wears a dress, married couple, hardcore flirting, badass reader, his first name is Din, canon-typical violence, implications to sexy times.

Nevarro's typically mellow near midday, more accustomed to the elderly citizens dawdling through the markets, reminiscing on their younger years as the wind blows a faint breeze and the local bakeries flood the marketplace with their fresh aromas.

According to Greef, pirates have been stealing from the marketplace, breaking into people's homes and ransacking them. There have been three reported deaths in the last two months. 

That's where you and Din come in. You've both been hired to track down any pirates and turn them in.

That was two weeks ago. When you and Din dropped off Grogu on Tatooine with Peli, you both promised to be back in a few days.

A few days, four at most. 

Not two weeks.

You're definitely paying a hefty interest rate when you do pick up the kid. It's a good thing Greef is willing to pay you handsomely.

You could tell the High Magistrate was getting antsy the longer the pirates roamed Navarro. Din wasn't much better. During the days he would be tracking every lead possible, during the nights you would hold him in your arms and tell him to breathe. 

You weren't much better, really. There's this frustration that's humming through your body. An anger that's boiling in your veins the longer you're away from Grogu. 

Last night was the hardest night you've had in a while. Din had finally given up on his newest dead end lead and crawled into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, which fell and raised with each unsteady breath. He missed Grogu and the cracks in his voice as he spoke had you crying into his chest, his own tears falling into your hair.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to Greef's newest plan the next morning without a second thought.

Under the hot sun, warmth seeping into your black shirt, you're definitely starting to regret saying yes. Kicking a small stone you mumbled under your breath, "Standing around waiting to get kidnapped. Not exactly the highlight of my life."

Through your earpiece Din huffed, definitely still displeased with this plan, "Just stay focused, Greef said they should be here today."

"They better be, I'm not sweating through my good shirt for nothing." You sighed, armpits already feeling sticky, "I've never been used as bait before. Am I doing a good job?" 

Din doesn't answer. Which isn't a surprise. He's been ignoring you since you took Greef's side and stripped yourself bare of all weapons but one to stand in the middle of the marketplace to be discovered by a group of pirates who've already murdered three people.

Okay, putting it that way does make Din's reaction understandable. Greef had worded it better.

"Mando, it's going to be okay, I promise. Besides I'm armed and you're only a few blocks away if it goes south."

"I know, cyare, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy that my riduur decided to put themself in a dangerous position."

You want to point out that he did the same thing back on Tatooine cycles ago. Played bait for Cobb Vanth. You're not going to though, not when his breathing is heavy through the earpiece like it's taking everything in him to remember how to take in a steady breath. 

You quickly glance over to where he's hidden from view a few rooftops over. You sent him a look, one that reassures him that you'll take every safe precaution available.

You're not offended by the way your husband is acting like you can't handle yourself. You both know you can, you've done it dozens of times before. It's just his nature to worry; about you, about Grogu, about his friends.

You start to lazily stroll through the marketplace, keeping yourself in Din's line of sight as much as possible. 

You've kept the line open – Din doing the same on his end – and you do your best to minimise your lip movement when you speak, "I was thinking maybe after this we could relax on Sorgan for a couple weeks. That'll be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Focus."

You rolled your eyes at that, "We haven't been back there since our honeymoon, or at least our version of a honeymoon. Most couples don't normally fight off raiders during their romantic getaways." 

There's a soft chuckle from Din's end, "When have we ever fit into the category of normal?"

"I still have my wedding dress," You commented, enjoying the way his breath hitched at it, "It's been a few years but I'd imagine I could still fit into it."

"Cyare."

You grinned at his warning, you know he's recalling the moment he first saw you in the dress, "Like you haven't thought about it before. We share the same bed and you occasionally mumble in your sleep."

"I do not, i- it doesn't matter, please just focus–" There's a second of silence, then your name and a string of curse words fell from his lips, "They're here."

Your chest tightened. It doesn't matter how long you've been chasing down bounties, there's always a moment of fear that settles in your bones.

"Where?"

"South entrance. Three males, all human, all armed." 

Rocks crunch underneath your heel as you sharply turn to face south, "Three? Huh, I figured there would be more, I'm kind of disappointed."

"Considering it's just you down there only armed with a blade, three is too damn many."

For a second you wish you could pull him into your arms, tell him it's okay with delicate touches. You can't though, so you settled on a soft 'I love you' and tried to gain the attention of the three men.

"I'm not drawing their attention." You're getting frustrated. Eyeing the closest clothing booth, an idea sprung to life, "I need to stand out more."

Grabbing a dress to change into, you head into the small fresher. You'll pay for the dress later, right now you're on a time limit.

"What are you doing? I don't have eyes on you." Din's voice is octave higher, a clear sign that he is beginning to panic.

"I don't think I'm in much danger inside the fresher, honey."

The dress is a little complicated to put on, multiple straps that seemingly do nothing functional, but it's definitely flattering on you. It highlights curves you didn't even realise you have.  

"Yeah, because pirates are known for their decency." Din grunted, eyes scanning every little crook and nanny around the small fresher,  "What did you even get anyway?"

"You'll see." You smirked to yourself. You're well aware you're attractive, Din tells you often, normally followed by a little worshipping, sometimes sexual, sometimes not. 

The dress has a slit which makes the knife strapped to your thigh easier to grab if needed. Which you hope it isn't, you're not in the mood for things to get bloody.

With a quick glance in the mirror, chasing away any lumps in the dress' fabric, you swiftly exited the fresher. There's shocked sputtering coming from Din's side of the comm. Your heart fluttered happily, satisfied with his reaction. Probably more than you should be, but heck it's not every day you get to dress nicely. 

When Din spoke again you could tell it's through clenched teeth, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's just something I found." You smirked, sending a wink his way before sobering up, "I have eyes on them. I'm going to get their attention and try to lead them down a back alley." 

Din sighed, shifting to allow his weapon to follow your pathway, "Please be careful. I'd rather not spend the night stitching you up."

You hummed and couldn't hold back one last teasing smirk, "Is there something else you'd rather be doing tonight?"

"Don't get stabbed and you'll find out."

You blushed, cheeks burning a pretty pink colour, "I'm holding you to that, babe."

Unfortunately for you, things did end up getting bloody. Fortunately for you, you didn't end up getting stabbed. 

You dropped the last guy just as Din came barreling down the alley. You have your boot pressed against the pirate's chest underneath you, not that it was necessary since he's unconscious, and your knife is sliding back into its holster with a flick of your wrist. 

You beam up at your husband, hand gesturing to the three unconscious men around you, "What do you think? Not bad huh?"

Din shook his head, voice almost urgent, "Are you hurt?"

"Not a drop of blood," You reassured him as you used the man underneath you to clean off the dirt on your boot before stepping back, "Might have some fancy bruises tomorrow morning but that's expected." 

With a sigh, Din started gathering the men up for Greef to come deal with, "I'll apply some Bacta when we get back to the ship. I want to be gone by nightfall, I'm afraid Peli might file for adoption papers if we're not back soon."

She wouldn't but the thought of it made you laugh, "Hey she can have split custody if that means we can take a trip to Sorgan." You bumped your hip against Din's as you pass him, "How about you wait here for Greef and I'll go return this dress."

A hand quickly wrapped around your waist stopping you from leaving and your face is suddenly inches from Din's. Your husband kept a hand around the back of your waist as the other slowly trailed up your spine. 

Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. Your both not normally one for public display of affection, but the way his helmet quickly fogs over at your warm breath has you not caring.

Finally his gloved hand reaches the top of your spine and your dress is yanked back, a quiet snapping sound hits your ears. You pulled back from his embrace with a frown.

Din brought his hand around and hanging from his thumb and index finger is a small cardboard rectangular object, "You can't return things without the tag."

You can't help but snort at his antics, "That's not how that works, babe." 

Din shrugged, "Maybe not, but we have roughly thirteen hours before we touch down on Tatooine and I want to see how pretty that dress is all spread out on our bed."

And fuck, you just saved their planet, at the very least they owe you a dress.