#i have a sharks pride hat but man i do not want to know how they feel about that

[temptress-writes]

⚓️ The Endeavour

A/N: Piraterry. Nasty as hell smut. He's after some booty. He gets it and then some.

C.W: coarse language, drinking, violence, beardrrY

Sexual Content Warnings: -virgin mc -breath play. whoops. like big whoops. -blood kink -pain kink -squirting (always only the best for the gals) -beard kink (I just wanna leave it wet) -cock warming kinda (mentioned) -somnophilia (not really but a body is explored while said body is unconscious nothing explicit but wanted to list it anyway)

This smut is feral. So have fun!

Word count: 15.8k. A light meal from mama.

***

The Caribbean Sea.

1723.

The hull groaned under the shattering weight of the fierce waves, her bow slicing through swell after powerful swell.

With the tip of his hat, a burst of pride erupted in his chest at her sheer fight and force. He kept her in top shape, knowing a single slip-up would end with him and her in a sandy, unforgiving grave.

He yelled a bursting abundance of encouragement and order to his crew, who through their own sheer will and determination, held their own against the torrid waves.

They had been on the open ocean for weeks. Skewering the waves for ripples in its currents, showing the way to riches. Nothing but a captain's sheer dream to follow a path many believed to be purely fiction, rumour, and nightmare.

There were tales of an untouched island, long since forgotten by many. Except for him. The hidden place had been a bedtime story for him, his fallen mother lulling him to sleep with talk of a luscious cove, twinkling with gold and jewels, protected by sea creatures so fearsome that no one lived to warn others. Only tales made shores carried by whispering swells.

She had gone so far as to paint it for him one night, his tiny child mind so enthralled by a land he could only place as his own heaven.

Crystal clear water, a wide cove that delved into the land with hidden secrets that if reached, guaranteed the succeeder a lifetimes worth of riches.

He kept the painting. Folded it up tight and stored it in his locket, right next to his heart. It hung from the chain his father had left him, the only reminder he had of his parents before they fell ill when he was barely a teen.

With nothing but the clothes on his back and the memory of his loved ones, he had to build a life for himself. He mainly started out as a ship repairer's assistant. Holding out tools and swiped coins of gold when his boss wasn’t looking. He paid him a piece a week and it had made for some painfully hungry nights. So he’d turned to sly swiping where he could, purely to survive.

Every night, he dreamt of that cove. Of its glistening, gentle waves. Of the sea creatures that guarded the hidden heaven. Ones that he would slay with all his might, so that he may bask in the treasures they fought to covert.

An oasis he now attempted to charter.

“What do you think?” He asked his Quartermaster as he headed below deck to his quarters, his mate beside him. They entered the office, heading to the map laid out on the table, weight down by compasses and clutter.

“I think you’re on a fool’s errand, captain.” As he’d been saying for weeks.

“There will be many riches at the end of this voyage, Brigg. I promise you. It will be well worth it.”

“Say we get there, Harry,” Brigg reasoned, his hands on his hips, “what of the beasts they say that roam the waters?”

Sharks with rows and rows of vicious teeth, fearless krakens that ate ships like his for sport. Sirens lured sailors to the depths where they would toy with them before eating them limb by limb. And then there was the landscape to attest for. Jagged rocks and shallow waters that dismembered hulls like a bird's wing through the wind.

Harry himself had no clue how they’d navigate such a tight cove with as many dangers as the lore spoke of. But he was a determined man, and it had yet to steer him and his crew wrong.

He adjusted his weapon belt across his hips, his sword sitting strong in its scabbard. He’d yet to unsheathe it on this journey but had no doubt he’d have to ensure its sharpness for what was ahead.

“We’ll continue to train, Brigg. We have strong soldiers on board with us. We shall find nothing but glory.”

“If we even find the cove.”

Harry shot him an unamused look, “Adjust us to the west. The waves are mighty today, we cannot afford to be off course.”

“Yes, captain.”

Brigg left him, and he allowed a moment to feel exhausted. He threw his hat on the desk, grabbed a bottle of rum, and took a much-needed swig, not caring that it spilled past his lips and down the front of his shirt.

He stripped his frock coat from his body and sagged into his chair, staring at the map, a tiny circle in red showing where they were headed. He adjusted the wooden ship pawn an inch closer to its target.

It wasn’t even on maps long since drawn by cartographers at every corner of the earth. He’d seen it all, seen too much to be riddled by what-ifs and myths. He’d seen wonderous things on his travels, and his hope would not be dwindled by another man’s doubts.

But old stories spoke of a small island, far too small for anyone to see. Tucked away in the Caribbean Sea, warded off by treacherous swells and ravenous creatures. All guarded treasures far too priceless for any man to get their hands on.

For weeks they’d charted choppy waters, their food supply strong, freshwater abundant no thanks to the severe rains.

He felt strongly about this endeavour. Among the hundreds of treasure hunts he’d been on, this was one he felt most strongly about.

He had told no one about this trip aside from his crew. He had become a well-known pirate in England. Notorious and feared. He garnered such a reputation by playing dirty, and he gained many enemies while doing so. The last thing he needed was a rival on his tail.

His life was on the high seas, his lover his compass.

While he wasn’t opposed to bedding some maiden at whatever tavern he stumbled into once they’d ported, they were fleeting moments. He was always on his ship. The Siren. For she always called to him, longing for the dangerous adventure of the ocean.

He nestled into his bunk, knowing that not much would happen overnight. They’d port at Barbados come sunrise, halting their journey only for supplies and to stretch their legs.

He dreamt of the cove, as he always did. But this time was different. It was clearer, a soft ringing in his ears as he was drawn closer to the shore.

The dock at Barbados was rumbling with life. Much more than he’d ever seen it. It was rich with trade, with merchants from every corner of the earth gathering to sell their goods at high prices.

Harry scored some fresh fruits he could not get back in England, chewing happily as he and Brigg wandered the streets. He eyed many of the local women, winking and asking their names, wondering if they had room for him in their beds tonight.

They’d giggle, sensing his reputation as rocky as the shores before them. He had no trouble finding someone to have fun with but loved to scope out his options.

Pineapple juice dripped down his chin, the Caribbean sun blistering and unwavering. Heating him with a fire that drove his need for adventure and discovery. The sun, he thought, was another treasure. The land he came from rarely was blessed with its presence.

They passed more vendors, selling weapons and gear and ammo, maps, and repairs for ships. It had been years since he’d seen this island, it was good to see it doing so well.

An older man stood by his store. A small, quant swordsmith with an abundance of glittering weapons. Harry veered closer, intrigued. Something about his weathered expression drove his curiosity wild. He only saw such an expression in wary seamen.

“Good day, traveller.” The swordsmith’s heavy accent sounded as he sharpened a blade on a block.

“Sir,” Harry nodded. “Are you well?”

The man smiled wryly. “I will be should you give me some coin.”

“You seem well-travelled. Tell me what you know of this island.” Harry produced his map, pointing to the circle drawn in the middle of dangerous waters.

The swordsmith sagged, rubbing his aged forehead. “You will not survive it, boy.”

“So you have been there.” It was real. The sense of relief he felt at that moment was unlike any other sensation. He had been drawn to these tides by a tale. This was the first sense of reality he’d felt.

The man looked away, picking up his tools as if wanting to move on from the conversation. Harry smiled, throwing down a couple of gold coins on the workbench. The man scooped them up, counting, deliberating.

“In all my years, I have never chartered such a sea. Whatever is out there, tis real.”

“What is out there?” He threw down more coins.

“Danger. Fearsome creatures, both terrifying and beautiful. Shows you whatever you desire most and dangles it in front of you until they have you in your grasp.”

“What about the island?”

The man laughed. “Fool. I did not reach the island. I turned up on the shores here with no memory, no ship, no crew. Everything gone. Tis a curse, boy. Nothing more. Beware.”

It did little to sway his curiosity. His draw to this island was nothing to afraid of. Not a curse or a fool’s errand. It was his calling.

“Thank you, sir. Your candour is appreciated.” It would also be ignored, but he chose to withhold that fact. He slid the man more gold, purchasing a small dagger fashioned with pearls in its hilt. They glowed in the sun, and he added it to his scabbard with pride.

His hat shielded him from the torturous sun as he found his way back to The Siren, missing her familiarity. How she was every part of him, just as his bones were. His crew was washing up, sweeping the decks, and righting the gunports.

The main mast groaned as a gust blew through it, the small swells of water lapping at the hull, hungry for more. He checked in with his crew, ensuring everybody was rested and ready for the journey ahead.

“We set sail at midday. Not a minute later.” He eyed them all, pacing ahead of them as they stood in line listening to orders. “We should reach the island by nightfall. The sea ahead is dangerous, but I trust you all to get us there. Whatever we find will be ours to share.”

“Aye, Captain!”

“What if there is no gold?” One of the deckhands questioned. He was one of Harry’s newer men and had less experience on the seas than any of them. Hell. He still got nauseous when sailing, and still got on Harry’s nerves.

“When have I steered us wrong?” Harry glanced at him. “We have followed maps into the most far reaches of the sea, and have been rewarded each time for our bravery. This shall be no different.”

“Aye, Captain.” The deckhand muttered, adjusting his hat on his head.

“Prepare for sail.” Harry shouted, sauntering into his quarters to watch over the map. Brigg ensured everyone was doing their jobs, barking out orders to keep everyone in check.

Harry stared at the map for a time, feeling outside of his own mind. The wind seemed to howl, melting into a high-pitched tone that had him wincing before he blinked, back in his own boots once more.

“Keep her steady!” He yelled from the deck, his feet anchored to the barrier, his hands burning from their grip on the ropes. Sea water lashed at him, threatening to take him down to its luring depths.

The currents were strong here, his crew struggling to keep them on course. The sails whipped in the vicious winds, snapping and threatening to tether.

He had never seen anything like it. Otherworldly anger unleashed within the waves and wind, pummelling his ship with no mercy. His crew was struggling, he could sense it. See that they were unable to ride the movements of the ship, being thrown around every which way.

“Get the sail down!” He yelled out, helping at the masts. They had to coast while the wind was at its strongest. Ride it out until they could figure out their course. As it stood, he hadn’t a clue where they were.

The ocean had never been so angry. Perhaps that old swordsmith had been right. This was a curse. A festering evil. His mind flashed to creatures that could be lurking beneath his ship. A fearsome Kraken waiting to take them down and feast on their flesh while the wood and steel of The Siren rotted at the bottom of the depths.

This was a fight he could not win.

A strong wave swept over the ship, filling the deck with water, and sweeping every man off their feet. He clung onto the rope for dear life, chilled to his bones as the wind whipped at his body.

“We have to go back, Captain!” Brigg yelled over the thunder, a flash of lightning soon following it to ignite his scorned expression.

“We cannot yield!” He fought. They’d worked too hard to turn back now. Turning the ship may seal their fate.

“Cap���”

A swell whirled over the boat, this one higher than any of the ones before, sweeping Harry from his perch overseeing the deck, ready to swallow him into the currents. He clung onto the rope, his grip slipping as his calloused hand failed to comply, frozen and aching.

His hold on the rope slipped, and his stomach dropped as he began falling to the angry depths metres below him. He was being smashed against the hull, knocked back and forth like a rag doll. Held victim to the harsh elements. He yelled out, not ready to abandon his crew. His ship.

He was going to drown.

Flashes in the sky accompanied an eerie ringing, high in pitch and deafening.

And then a hand shot out, taking his as his final grip loosened. He was hauled overboard again, flopping into the saturated deck before he was out cold.

His ears were ringing. A build-up of fatigue and trauma, seared his brain as he blinked in surprise at the scene around him. He could hear Brigg calling his name, and see his crew helping each other up and tending to the wounded. After a quick head count, he knew he’d lost men.

He gathered himself, feeling the oak beneath his back was still wet. But the overpowering anger of the ocean was no more, and he listened to the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull.

His body thrummed in pain but he ignored it. He would take care of himself later. There was no time to waste when the elements weren’t lashing at them.

His chest burned at the realisation, and he stood with a groan, finding Brigg rushing to his side. It was not uncommon in this life, and it was something he dealt with every time they left the shallow shores.

“How many?” He rasped. “How many did we lose?”

“Five.”

He grimaced, still out of it, his body bruised and weathered.

“You were out for no longer than ten minutes, Captain. The storm has subsided, and quickly so. Never seen anything like it in all my years at sea.”

“The calm will not last, however, we must take advantage of it.” He strolled into the cabin, finding the map, grateful that the ocean had not destroyed it. “How far off course are we?”

“I can’t work it out. The storm derailed us completely.”

“Tis a good thing we overshot after we set sail. Recourse us west.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“I am. We’re close, I can feel it.”

Harry made the rounds, checking on his crew, and offering condolences even while his own heart felt too heavy for his body to carry. Everyone was exhausted. Tired. But he promised them that the reward was near.

He stood at the helm, the wheel gripped firmly in his ringed hands. The water was black, even the dim candle lighting doing nothing to illuminate it. But there was a tether inside of him, guiding him towards that cove from his dreams. He would slaughter every creature that stood in his way. Fight every rogue wave that threatened to drown him.

The Siren groaned, and he frowned, leaning forward to scope out the environment around them.

The world was dark. An onyx abyss that had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His gaze scoured his surroundings, seeing nothing but pitch black. Everything went still, eerily still.

Harry loosed a breath, leaving his post at the helm and going to the side. Amongst the nothingness, there was a large mass, not two miles ahead of them. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, or how he was seeing it.

But all he knew was that it was an uninhabited piece of land, surrounded by a thick disturbance, something he could not place. Could not see or smell. But he could feel it.

“Lower the anchor.” He spoke into the air, his crew not hearing him. “Lower the anchor!”

They complied quickly, working together to drop the anchor. The Siren came to a slow stop, and Brigg approached him with a raised brow.

“What is it?”

“There,” he breathed, “do you see it?”

Brigg allowed his gaze to follow Harry’s extended arm, the pointed hand. He looked beyond it, squinting.

“See what, lad?”

“The island.”

“There is no island, Captain. Just water as far as the eye can see.”

Harry shot him a look. “Tis your old eyesight failing you, Brigg. Prepare a boat.”

“It is not safe—”

“Prepare a boat.” He bit out. “This is where we need to be.”

Brigg appeared skeptical, but it was not his place to question his Captain. It was nobody’s place. A few men prepared the pinnace, lowering it down onto the gentle waves. Harry prepared himself with a heavier coat, his favourite sword, and his compass.

His whole life had been a build-up to this moment. From the bedtime stories from his dear mother to finding his feet as his own explorer. It had all been for this. For this off-the-map cove that he wasn’t even sure was real.

“I will scout first, and be back by daylight.”

“Please… be careful.”

“I shall return with good news, Brigg. I can feel it in my bones.”

Using the ladder draped down the hull, Harry lowered down into the boat, Brigg leaning down to pass him a lit lantern. He shot down the offer to have a few of his deckhands with him. This part he had to do alone.

The tiny boat bobbed on the waves, and he glanced out at the mass of land again, sensing that pulsing once more. His ears rang with the promise of fulfillment. He began rowing.

He rowed until he was halfway between The Siren and the island, and his heart began drumming uneasily against his ribcage. He could taste the sheer gratification and accomplishment.

He kept watch for the lurking creatures he had been warned about time and time again. For the dreaded sharks and Krakens, the predators swarming below them, waiting. But they didn’t show.

The ringing appeared in his ears again, shrill and stark. He winced, shooting a hand up to cradle his head.

The peal became higher. Louder. So intense that he feared for the integrity of his hearing. He stood and looked around frantically, hoping to see some source that would explain such a protruding sound.

And then it softened completely, a quiet humming next to the boat that halted his search. He crouched, leaning over the side staring at his reflection on the glass-like veneer.

A disruptive ripple broke the surface of the water, illuminated by the radiant lantern.

A girl.

She was otherworldly beautiful. And she was humming, a lulling melody that had his spine melting into goo. She smiled up at him, looking through her lashes as she bit her lip. Her eyes were so dark as if mimicking the lapping waves, though glowing once he raised the lantern further towards her.

He opened his mouth to ask why she was there. How she was so far out from the shore and in such gloomy water. But his words bubbled in his throat, dissolving before they could reach his lips. As if she’d taken them.

She was just… watching him. Her dark hair slicked back away from her face, glistening with beauty. Her chocolate skin imitated the tone of his rum and his brain went foggy as she rose a few inches, and it was then that he saw that she was naked.

“Who are you?” He managed out, his voice not his own.

She only smiled at him again, humming that addictive tune before her hand shot up, her slender fingers gripping the side of the boat, right next to his jewelled hand.

He was so mesmerised he didn’t have it in him to be scared.

“Are you lost, sailor?” Her voice was silky. Liquid pearls trapped in clouds.

He felt his body fall lax as she stared at him, her lips plump as the words left them.

Lost. A sensation he had felt many times before. And of course, he felt it these past few weeks in the search for this island. Now as he looked away from the girl and towards the island, had disappeared.

He grew startled, his mind kicking back into gear. The island. The hope he felt. The magic cove from his dreams, the one he kept in his locket next to his heart. Gone. A hazy mirage that dissipated when he hadn’t been looking.

His mouth grew dry, “I could have sworn—”

“Shh.” Her cold, wet hand clasped his where it rested on the rim of the boat. “I can help you.”

He was locked in her trance again, paralysed by her. His worry was still stagnant in his brain but his body would not cooperate, still and at her will.

“I do not—”

“Come closer.” Her soft cadence took his breath away.

He found his body betraying him, leaning forward until the boat was almost tipping over. She smiled, her teeth gleaming. Her smile snapped something in him, a longing that was all too familiar to him. The yearning that centred around the painting in his locket. The draw to it was the same as it was to her.

She began humming, louder, completely entrancing him. His brain felt numb, every thought dispersing aside from her. Like his essence was honing in on hers. He was under her spell. His sole purpose for being here suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

And that sense of loss and aimlessness was the last thing he remembered before he was submerged completely.

The sensation of it was too many things at once. A festering fear that soothing hands calmed as he sank down into the murky depths. His passion and drive and reasoning for being on the open seas reduced to nothing. Reduced to droplets blinked from stormy brown eyes.

There had been things for him to fear here. He’d heard the myths. But nothing frightened him more than the beauty of her.

He was sure that he was dreaming, but his lungs were burning, filling with salty water as he tried to scream. But there was no one to save him. Just the sounds of his own muted cries and that all too-familiar melody. It became his new actuality.

Sinking to a euphony that made him feel eerily at peace.

A phantom hand explored the expanse of his chest, feather-light and timid. It touched his arms, his face, trailing his features. Exploring and mapping.

His senses came back to him slowly, and he heard the ocean. Soft swells kissed the shore, and his hand curled into the sand beneath him. He felt that hand venture south and he coughed, his lungs burned as water bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth.

He heard a voice, a small soothing ooh that could only be placed as sympathy. He opened his eyes, wincing as he took in the bright scene before him.

The sun was blinding, offensively so, and he shut his eyes for a moment more so that he could adjust. His head throbbed, the source of a sharp pain in his left temple.

Upon opening them, he turned his head, facing the coast. The water was a bright cerulean, invitingly pristine. No signs of his ship or his crew. What had happened? His vision was hazy, a blur of visions that he couldn’t determine were real or made up. He scarcely remembered leaving the dock at Barbados. Just little blips in time but some seemed fake.

That ghost touch graced his chest again, brushing his wet lips. His gaze turned towards the feeling and a violent gasp left him as he jolted away from the source.

A girl.

What was familiar to him was her striking beauty. Big brown eyes, deep golden skin with a halo of lush curls surrounding her head. She was dressed in white, scraps of flowy material that were bound together with beads and pearls.

Her brows pulled in, and her hand reached out toward him. “It’s okay. You are safe here with me.”

“W—What happened?” He panted, stilling at the feel of his saturated clothes. His scabbard was gone, as was his hat and coat. Only his pants, shirt, and boots remained.

“I found you here.” She said gently.

He tried to stand, disoriented. He fell to the ground, his arms too weak to lift himself up.

“Please, take care—”

“I remember you.” He rasped. “I… I saw you. I—I saw you in the water.”

She reached for him, taking his hand. “You are confused. I believed your ship was wrecked.”

“N—No, I saw you—”

“We must get off the beach.”

“Where am I?”

She didn’t answer him, and her hold on his hand tightened. He suddenly felt willing. Like his body had been given a boost of strength for him to stand. He watched her, allured by her perfection, her attire. Who was she? Why was she so familiar?

His mind flashed to black water before she pulled away, her eyes pulling him in before she backed up toward the island ahead.

It was small, either side of the beach framed with jagged rocks and tall cliffs. The island itself as heavy with thick vegetation. He had no clue where he was geologically. With his memory as spotty as it was, his ship could have wrecked miles off course and left him stranded here.

“Where is my ship?”

There were no remnants of The Siren on the shore. No debris or… any sign of life for that matter. It was a chilling feeling, especially seeing as whoever this girl was wasn’t giving any answers.

She led him towards a large tree just on the edge of the shore, a tall, overhanging tree that offered sanctum from the sunshine.

“What is this island?” He called after her. “Where are all the people?”

“There are no people here.”

He stopped, watching as she sat on a giant leaf and tended to a collection of fish laid out on a rock. They were fresh, and he spied her spear leaning against the tree.

“You are here alone?”

“Sit,” she nodded to a twin leaf next to hers. “And eat. You must be famished.”

He was, but the overall confusion and fear made him nauseous. “No, thank you.”

Her eyes became stormy, just as they had in his mind. He found himself sitting, taking a leaf full of fresh fish from her outstretched hand. He feasted, not realising quite how ravenous he was.

“Can I trouble you for a boat?” He needed to get off this island. Figure out where his ship and crew were.

“There are no boats here.”

Her words made his chest sink, and more questions followed that he opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him.

“Where were you headed, sailor?”

Her wording worried him. Where were you heading? Like she saw his being on this island as some kind of seal doom.

“I had just left Barbados.” If she wasn’t going to answer his questions, like hell he was going to answer hers. “I do not remember much following that.”

She adjusted her position, the slit of her skirt allowing his eyes to wander the expanse of her thigh.

“It has been some time since I have seen a man.”

“Is that so?” And that explained the wandering hands he felt as he awoke.

“Many years. You are very different from the ones I have seen.” She brushed her curls from her face, her skin glowing from the sun, crushed pearls glittering her features.

“Do you rescue sailors often?”

“No, never.”

He could not place her accent. Her cadence. Dreamy and soft-spoken. Nothing like the locals of the surrounding islands. No, this he could not put a finger on. She ventured a few metres into the tree line, finding a spring of fresh water which he gulped down.

He had allowed himself to scope out the area whilst she was gone. Aside from the fish and spear, there were no other signs of life on this beach. Was she from deeper inland? Did she come here by boat?

The sunset kissed the horizon, bleeding orange hues into his vision as he tried to gather his bearings.

It was as if she could read his thoughts, sense his panic and his queries.

“You must rest, sailor.” She whispered, that lulling voice swirling through his mind. He fell asleep on the beach, exhausted, perhaps even concussed from the injury on his temple that he did not know how he received.

He woke up hours later, disorientated and lost. He felt for a moment that he was on his ship, tucked away in his cabin next to the fireplace, a goblet of rum nestled comfortably in his hand.

But his new reality set in with the harsh bed of sand against his back and the dim light of the moon offering little comfort. He jolted upright, feeling more himself than he was earlier. Had hours passed? Or days? His body was groggy and his throat was parched.

And then he’d remembered those slender hands feeding him fresh fish, offering him crisp water from the spring in the trees somewhere. The girl. Golden and mysterious.

His eyes strained to see her, but she was not where he had last seen her, and it had his back straight immediately. Had she left him? Had she been a mere dream his jumbled brain had offered up in order to keep him sane?

The throbbing in his head had dulled some, and he reached up to massage the ache only to find it damp with some form of thick paste lobbed into the wound, which felt pretty much healed.

His memory was failing him, letting him down as he raked his thoughts for any sense of clarity but there was none. He wasn’t sure what was real. Couldn’t even remember his name.

He felt his locket around his neck, his sole truth, and fumbled to open it. He withdrew the small painting and even under the moonlight, he knew the strokes by heart. He put it back for safekeeping. His soul soared with a sense of something he couldn’t make out before his eyes flittered to the sea.

It was glittering in the effulgence, seeming to call him as that humming carried itself in the wind. He felt her before he saw her, the soft breeze carrying her presence to him.

She waded in the water, her hands splayed out as she toyed with swells between her fingers. She was just as real as he remembered, and yet, he wondered if she would disperse into the water and become one with it.

He stood, his boots filled with sand, but his clothes were dry now. He watched her, slowly walk towards the edge of the water, his gaze not once leaving her. He walked into the water, keeping his movements light so as not to startle her.

And as he got closer to her, he realised that she was naked. Her hair was wet and draped down her back, her skin a golden ray of moonlight that he wanted to laze in.

She gasped, turning to face him. Her breasts were covered by her wet curls but it didn’t matter to him. He struggled to move his eyes from the view.

“Who are you?” He asked over the rolling waves.

Her eyes were bottomless. “You should be resting.”

“Answer my damn question.”

“You do not need to know who I am, sailor.”

Her eyes became black bottomless pits that had him reeling backward in fear. Every question and ounce of confusion was gone as pure terror took over. She was otherworldly in her beauty, yes. But she had something dark and sinister wading beneath her skin.

He became overwhelmingly lethargic, his body controlled by something alien. And he felt the black hole invade his memory again as she slinked into the water before he saw nothing at all.

Many nights passed. He wasn’t sure how many, and had no sense of self or time. She fished early in the morning and allowed him to eat as much as he wanted before he was resting again. His body seemed too tired and he felt as though he was chasing his own tail trying to feel some sort of energy.

She was always dressed in those soft white linens, or shreds of them, bound together with shells, pearls, and beads.

And every night, he woke, watching her splash and play in the water. Naked and free, unaware of the fact that he was watching her. He didn’t dare approach her again, too fearful that she would control his mind and take it as her own.

She was not of this earth, he realised. Too perfect and too far from his grasp to understand. He enjoyed watching her, though. Enjoyed watching her lay out in the sun and play with her curls.

He bathed in the sea, fully unclothed, and ended up ditching his flimsy shirt once he realised it was only added to the heat his body was enduring. His tattoos were stark against his skin, now golden from his days in the sun.

Sometimes she would leave the beach. She’d venture up the coast, scaling dangerous rock formations. He would always try to follow her but he would lose sight of her, trying to keep up with her agile pace but he was simply not equipped for such a trek.

He always wondered where she went, but by the time she returned, he had grown too tired to ask.

He was caged in, their little beach framed with rock and backed with dense jungle. He tried to venture into the thick vegetation but found himself thrown off by how endless and dangerous it looked.

He was beginning to question if he had any semblance of sanity in the first place. What was true? What was his foggy imagination? He did not know.

The moon was especially large tonight, sat high in the sky, a brilliant silver that glazed over the locket at his chest. His eyes closed, prepared to fall asleep like he did every night.

He often wondered why he felt okay with this. His ship was out there somewhere, maybe even intact. His crew who relied on him… he struggled to even think about it. How had he ended up here? Alone? He had not gone so far from the ship.

His thoughts haunted him, taunting him with hidden memories, slips of water, and storms. But he could only remember that vendor in Barbados and then… waking up on this beach. And her. Her eyes and her beauty. But it was hazy. Like trying to recall a dream.

The moonlight danced behind his eyelids, the waves that kissed the shore somehow calming despite the peril he felt in his chest.

That all too familiar phantom touch laced the bare skin of his chest, and his eyes snapped open. The girl was leaning over him, her eyes burning with curiosity. He sat up abruptly, but she stayed close to him, their faces mere inches apart.

His hand grabbed hers from where it had fallen into her lap. He placed it back on his chest, his eyes on hers as she explored his body, his skin warm beneath her palm. His heart was racing so fast and she smiled as if she could feel it.

Her touch melted south, brushing his lower abdomen. He sucked in a breath and her eyes softened.

“Do you like this?” She asked him, her other hand joining in mapping out his body.

“Yes.” He whispered, wanting to reach out and touch her. But his hands remained put. He knew that the ball was in her court, and she’d reprimand him if he tried to take control.

“Swim with me.”

He was in a trance as she stood, helping him up. She shed her tiny layers of clothing as they walked towards the sea, and his gaze washed over her naked body in a daze. She met his eyes as if knowing he was watching and enjoyed the attention.

After removing all of his own clothing, he tried to ignore the fact that she was staring at all of him. Intently. As if to remember his body later. And then, so quietly, she waded into the water until it was lapping at her waist and stared up at the moon.

He paddled out to meet her, in awe of her confidence as she floated on her back. The moonlight illuminated her body, the water slipping over her physique. He’d never been so envious of a body of water.

He wanted to be the one to lick and explore her coasts. Wrap his currents around her until she was fully in his control. She straightened as he came to her, her hands landing on his shoulders.

“Am I dreaming?” He breathed out as she wrapped herself around him.

“Yes,” she crooned, her lips brushing his ear. “You are dreaming, sailor.”

He released a shaky breath when her lips met his, her lips encasing his upper one while his hands found her hips. He released a groan, kissing her with such intensity that it scared him. He had no clue who he was even kissing but it simply felt right.

His body was responding in such a way that made him feel almost embarrassed. She pulled away, her expression confused.

And then his eyes snapped open, a deep breath ripping from his lungs. He wasn’t in the water with her.

But his body was wet as if he had been. His memory was missing a piece between her lips and finding himself back here. A blank space in the puzzle of his mind.

What had happened? Was it a dream? Or did she state that it was so that she could toy with his mind?

The sun was out, igniting the sea in dazzling diamonds that danced on the ripples.

By the crispness in the air and the remnants of fog, he guessed it was early morning. He sat up, searching for her.

She was carrying a woven net full of fresh fish. He frowned. Her spear was at the base of the tree, where it always was. And he realised he hadn’t once seen her use it, and the fish she’d caught never had any wounds to them.

With a sly smile, she nodded her head in greeting, starting to prepare the fish with efficiency and ease. He ate with her, wondering how to bring up their kiss last night. How he’d seemed to startle her with his arousal. He wanted to apologise. He also wanted another taste.

But as always when it came to her, his words were stunted. Lodged in his throat and dying abruptly in a burst bubble. She stood, her hips swaying as she moved before taking a seat beside him.

“When will you tell me who you are?”

“It is the same with all of you men,” she mused, running a hand through his hair. He moaned lightly at the attention, his scalp prickling with delight. “So many questions.”

“Sailors are curious by nature.”

“So I gathered.”

“You, however, are very evasive.”

“You are alone on an island with a pretty girl, what more do you need to know?” Her eyes twinkled at her tease, the sun breaking through the leaves above them and dancing across the planes of her face.

“Very pretty.” He smiled. But I need to know more. A lot more.”

The integrity of his ship and crew plagued him, but she simply smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. His beard was a contrast to his soft features, and her eyes travelled them, taking him in.

“Curiosity is dangerous here.”

“And where, exactly, is here?” He pushed.

But her lips brushed his and his memory faded, his eyes opening only to find the sky dark and the stars abundant in the sky. He blinked, confused. Only a second had passed between then and now and yet… the day was gone. And so was she.

He sat up in a rush, his body feeling alien to him. His eyes scanned the beach, searching for her. And she was there, exiting the water, the sea washing off her shores, down her bare skin, and back to the sand.

But he laid back down, not wanting her to know that he was awake. Whatever she was doing, she was in full control of him and he wanted some semblance of self. To see why she was playing all of these mind tricks on him.

She wandered towards the treeline, a way down from him, and her eyes never found him as he pretended to sleep. Like she was sure he was still sleeping soundly like she always planned.

But he was fully aware of himself now and knew he needed to act. He would find out where he was. If she wasn’t going to give him the answers he sought, then he would find them himself.

He kept his movements quiet, leaving their little respite on the beach and following her. She wasn’t hard to keep track of, following a worn-down path that she knew well. The moonlight lit the way, but he kept to the shadows so as not to raise attention to himself.

She trailed him along for ages. His boots caught on twigs and uneven forest floor but he was determined. And after a while, she slowed, gazing up at the moon before she broke into what looked like a clearing.

He waited for a while, not wanting to get caught before he sauntered forward towards the clearing. Only, it wasn’t was he was expecting. The must have been following the near coast, because he could hear small waves lapping against the rock, and he could smell the intense seawater and feel the pull of it.

It was the cove.

The one from the stories his mother would tell him when he was younger. The one in his locket, right next to his heart.

His chest felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending in his body wired with excitement and disbelief.

The cove was every bit beautiful as he’d imagined it. And then some. Bright blue water was ignited by the moonlight. It seemed to hone in on the rock pool that spilled out into the sea. There was no evidence of gold or loot, but the treasure was not that. It was the discovery itself.

Shipwrecks were abundant in the jagged rock formations, the water shallow and glorious. How they hadn’t seen their doom before them, he did not know. Almost like they’d intended to ram right through the island as if it was never there.

The rocks hugged the frame of the cove, the water heaving with wildlife he had never seen before.

And sat upon a rock, was the girl. But he was taken aback, blinking as if he were seeing things through untrue eyes. But she was there, her breasts bare to the ocean while her bottom half was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

A tail.

A milky blue that accentuated the hue of her golden skin, scales so pearlescent it put every diamond to shame. It fanned out at the bottom, much like fish, indented rays that bled into a deeper blue, melting into the tone of the sea.

He began breathing erratically. This was another one of her mind tricks. Or maybe he was going crazy.

Her hands ran through her hair and she began singing that tune again, the melody echoing off the cove and making him stumble.

A rock loosened beneath his boot and her attention snapped up, a short shocked gasp leaving her lips as her eyes met his. She stared for a moment, and for the first time, he saw something in her that he had never seen before. Fear.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Wait!” He wound down into the cove, as she shifted off the rock, splashing into the water before swimming away. He sprinted into the tide after her, but she was long gone.

He collapsed against the rock that she had previously been perched upon. Her secrecy and her midnight swims. She had been coming here all along, hidden from him. And he had scared her away.

But he wasn’t giving up on her. He would stay put at this cove from his dreams until she returned, if at all. He would never find his own way back to the main beach.

He waited for her for hours. Until his eyes drooped, the moon mimicking as it gave way to the burning sun on the horizon.

It was as it lit the water in dazzling displays of crystallised blue that he awoke, sensing a disturbance on the surface.

He stood, stumbling and wary. He saw her dark hair break the surface of the pool before her dark eyes found his. She didn’t exit the water any further, and he saw the alarm in her gaze towards him.

“I will not hurt you,” he rose his hands, his tone pleading. “You… You surprised me is all.”

She didn’t move an inch. Hoping that in the hours following their run in that, he would have returned to the beach. But he had waited for her.

“I have searched for this island for years. I only wished to see it. No harm will come to you.”

She rose slowly, the water exposing her shoulders. He tried to keep calm, both questioning his sanity and reality itself. She was as fluid as the ocean around her, like two souls entwined.

“Many try to find this island.” She spoke lowly. “All of them mean harm, and do not leave here alive.”

He heard the threat loud and clear, but the softness in her eyes that he’d been seeing for days was no figment of his imagination.

“But you have not killed me.”

“Yet.” She bit out.

“Was it you?” He was shaking, trying to navigate the situation in which it left him alive. “Who called me here?”

“Perhaps you are hearing things only you can hear, sailor.” Her smile was wry and calculated. A feigned innocence she’d do well to mask better.

“Perhaps. Yet here I am. And you have not killed me.”

“Maybe you are already dead. You sealed your fate by coming here.”

The fog behind her wilted away, allowing his eyes to view hundreds of wrecked ships that lined the shallow shores. He wondered if one was his beloved Siren.

“My mother spoke of this place when I was a boy.”

Her mouth curved and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Did she now?”

He frowned, scrambling for the locket clasped around his neck but all he felt was his own damp skin. A phantom sensation of weighted silver whispered against it. His heart dropped to his feet, a wet, bloody puddle that she could sense.

“I… I dreamt of it.”

“You dreamt of me, too.”

He blinked, in a complete daze. His sense of reality was fleeting, melting away with every swell of the sea that kissed his toes.

“That song that you hum. What is it?”

The melody rang out from the waves, and his mind lulled completely.

“Do you like it, sailor?”

“I find it soothing.”

He was trying to soothe her. Let her know that he meant to harm, that his curiosity would not endanger her. No matter how many questions he had and how confused he was. He would only face what was in front of him.

The water around her pulsed as her humming continued, melting in his ears like a gooey potion.

He felt his body being beckoned to the waves, crystal clear and serine. His feet moved before his brain did, carrying him into the current where she waited. He met her there, where her arms wrapped around his neck and she took them further into deeper water.

As if sensing his onslaught of sudden panic, she hushed him, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Trust me.” She whispered. He could feel her… her tail wrap around his legs, fluttering against him. He had been internalising whether what he saw was true or not but now he knew his eyes had not deceived him.

Her breasts pressed flush against him, her hardened nipples brought heat to his cheeks. His arousal was apparent to her and a sly smile crept across her rosy lips in an effort to quell her own feelings.

“Does it not frighten you?”

“What?”

“Me. Like this.” She murmured.

“No. I was… confused at first. But you are beautiful. I have always thought so.”

Never mind the fact that he’d been dreaming of touching her this way for days, the lower half of her was little to deter him. He knew she had a human form of sorts. The fact that she trusted him as her truest self spoke volumes.

She pressed against him further. Until he moaned and his head dropped back on his neck. His expression was one of soft bliss that she wasn’t sure how to decipher.

“I have never touched a man before. Not like this.”

Her words were spoken against the skin of his neck. Wispy and honest. As much truth as he’d ever received from her.

His eyes met hers when she pulled away. Quietly, he asked, “Would you like to?”

“I don’t know how.”

His hands melted down her bare sides, meeting cold scales at her hips. “I can show you.”

“Please.” It was the softest he’d ever seen her. He took one of her delicate hands in his, guiding it down between them. Between his legs, where he was hard and pulsing, and yet, she’d done nothing. But her simple existence was enough to drive him wild.

She gasped as he encouraged her to grip him properly, and she did so gingerly, simply feeling him and exploring him. Far more intensely than she’d done when he was on the beach unconscious.

“That feels nice.” He encouraged.

“This is what you like?” She stared up at him with big brown eyes, and his resolve became a fine glass desperately close to shattering.

“This, and much more.”

“I would like to do that.”

“I would, too.” His hands found her hips again, her smooth stomach, and her gorgeous tits. Gently squeezing and touching.

She was putty in his hands as they wandered and ventured her body. Her scales were sharp and he winced as he sliced his fingertip on one of them.

He lifted his hand from the water, crimson slipping down his hand. He frowned at the wound, his eyes finding hers as her hand grabbed his, bringing his finger to her lips to leave a kiss on it. Her lips were stained red, and the touch of her lips sealed the wound, healing it right before his eyes.

“How many tricks do you possess, siren?”

“More than you will ever know, sailor.”

“Show me your favourite one.”

Her legs appeared, the scales seeming to shed from her skin and slink away into the current around them. He gripped her thighs, lifting her up and encouraging her to wrap them around his waist.

He moaned at the connection before her lips found his, soft and calm as the waves that lapped against the walls of the cove. The familiarity was welcome to him. He’d had her like this before. On the beach nights ago, before his memory became hazy and he awoke on the beach a start.

He guided the kiss, sensing her hesitation and fear. But he held her tight, kissing her softly yet tenderly, allowing her to follow his lead. She did so well, just as lost in him as he was her.

Her lips were soft, plump, and tasted of the sea. He wondered what her shores would taste like, lapping waves and unpredictable currents. An aromatic bliss he longed for.

He ground his clothed cock against her bare core, moaning against her mouth without shame. As if knowing his apparent enjoyment would make her far less apprehensive. He carried her from the waves, laying her flat on the damp sand before leaning over her.

“Your beauty is beyond anything I have ever seen.” He murmured, cupping her cheek and allowing his thumb to brush over her lips. She flicked her tongue out with a small smile before he pushed his digit past them. His brows turned in as she sucked on it.

Her hand reached between them, squeezing his cock with far more confidence than moments ago. He encouraged her higher to pay attention to the sensitive head of his dick, and she was rewarded with a breathless moan that escaped from his soft lips.

“What does it feel like?” She wondered aloud. “To be touched in such a way.”

“It feels… warm. Explosive and tight and blissful.”

Her eyes lulled at the description, and she could no longer ignore the primitive pulse between her legs that she’d never felt before.

“Make me feel it.” She whimpered. The neediness in her tone was all he needed to hear for him to snap.

He crushed his lips against hers, allowing his tongue to meet hers, messy and wet and obscene. The noises they were both making were even more so, and it took all of his willpower to not finish in her hand. He grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the sand by her head.

“I will be gentle.” He spoke against her temple. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“How will it hurt?” She had to ask, wanting him to be as feral and true as he could, whatever it entailed. All she knew was that he felt so fucking good and she wasn’t sure how it could get better or what would even ensue.

“This ends with my cock inside of you, pretty girl. You’ll be tight but I will make sure you’re ready for it. It will not hurt. Not with me.”

She gripped his shoulders in awe, not quite understanding what he meant but her body was flooded with a rush of arousal that he saw darken her eyes. He kissed her again, his hands exploring her chest, toying and squeezing until she was a writhing mess.

He adored her body. Cherished it with lush kisses and his beautiful hands, kissing her tits and her stomach and neck. Alternating where his touch was so no inch of her felt left out. His teeth nipped at her hips and she unintentionally rutted them up towards the touch.

He smiled against her, licking a bold stripe along her abdomen with a hum. His lips went south, and her eyes widened in shock.

“It’s okay, precious. It will feel so good.”

His hands gently coerced her legs to open so he could settle between them. He didn’t dare look anywhere aside from her face as his hands squeezed her delicious thighs, spreading up over her stomach again before veering back down.

And then his eyes settled between her legs and he let out a raspy moan.

“So pretty here, too.” He complimented and a flash of heat warmed her body. “Have you ever played with her?” He asked, his thumb coming to gently sweep over a particularly sensitive spot that made her gasp. “Like this?”

“N—No.”

“No?” He tutted. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know how.” She eyed him, crazed for his touch already, her legs shaking.

“I can show you.” He hummed, brushing his thumb over her clit to entice a small whimper from her. “Would you like that? For me to play with her? Make you feel things you’ve never felt before?”

“Please.”

“I like that.” He smiled, using a finger to gather her wetness, going back to her clit to rub small circles. “Say it again.”

“Please…” She whispered. “Please.”

“So polite, pretty girl. Begging me to touch this gorgeous cunt.” He applied more pressure, rewarded with a loud moan from her parted lips. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve never been touched like this, have you? You’re dripping onto my hand.”

“More,” She gasped out. “please, give me more.”

“I will. Be patient. Need you to be as wet as possible, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She made a high-pitched noise at his words, how gentle and caring and dirty he was. This world he knew so much about, and yet she’d only dipped a toe in.

His fingers worked her slowly, dipping back to her gooey centre to spread her growing wetness to her clit, drawing soft circles as she grew accustomed to having someone touch her this way. She was so wet and creamy that it had his eyes blurry.

“Is that nice?” His voice was dreamy as he watched her shake.

“Very.” She sighed.

“I have barely started.” He smirked at her and she threw her head back as he quickened both his pace and his pressure.

“What more will you do?”

He kissed her thighs, so close to where he wanted to taste. Fuck, she was so sensitive. Her thighs twitched and threatened to clamp around his head were it not for him holding them in place.

“I like that I am the only one who has touched you here. You will only know pleasure to come from me. You have no idea how hard that gets me.”

“Let me feel you again.”

“Not yet, pretty. Be patient, remember?”

“Please—”

He growled, coming up to face her, his forehead pressed against hers as he clenched his teeth. “You touch me, and this will be over before we can get to the best part. Do you understand?”

She fucking melted beneath him, submitting to him, her eyes wide and watering as she stared up at him. She nodded meekly, his hand still at work between her legs.

“That’s a good girl.”

He resumed his former position, nestled between her legs. The sight of her was staggering. If he was homesick before, he wasn’t now.

“Fuck, sweetness. I have to taste you.”

She frowned, snapping her gaze to him. “Taste me? Wh—” She cried out at the feel of his facial hair against her core before his wet tongue came to greet her. She sobbed out in relief at the contact, shaking against him as he gently flicked his tongue on her.

He moaned obscenely loud as he took a full lick of her, gathering her sweet taste on his tongue, and swallowing with a low hum. He sucked firmly on her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue until she was shaking so hard that he had to hold her down.

Her hands reached out, searching for something to hold onto, feeling out of her depth and overwhelmed while he ate her. He grabbed both of her hands with one of his, placing them in his hair.

She gripped his long curls, anchoring herself to him.

He pulled away momentarily to rasp out, “Pull my hair.” Before resuming. She listened, fisting and pulling at his locks as she got fucking ruined.

A warmth built up in her stomach and she felt her body tingle. He pulled back, wiping his face on his anchor tattoo before his eyes met hers.

“I’m going to use my hands now, pretty. Stretch you a little, make sure you can take me.”

She only nodded, unable to breathe, and not sure what he meant. But with how good he was making her feel, she was happy to ride the wave of him.

He circled her clit again, always paying attention to it, while his other fingers ran up her centre, watching her drip for him. He slowly, so so slowly, circled her entrance with a lone finger, pushing in.

She gasped, her spine straightening.

“Shh, pretty girl. Relax for me.”

She tried but felt so tightly wound from his touch that as he gave her his finger, she could have exploded. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was some form of a foreign sensation there.

“Is that okay?” He checked in. She nodded and hummed, jaw dropping when he withdrew his finger just to pump it in again. “And this? Is this okay?”

He watched her expression, a cocky and all too knowing grin gracing his face. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Feels nice in your tight little cunt.”

His mouth was filthy, only adding to her heaping arousal. She was so over her own head and any and every thought revolved around him and what he was doing to her body.

He returned his mouth to her clit, sucking, flicking, biting. Obsessed with how she felt and tasted. Her reactions were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pure bliss gracing angelic features, moans, and hums sounding from her throat, sounding much like that tune that was often carried in the wind when she was near.

Adding another finger once she was saturated, he fucked her with them. Slow yet deep, scissoring them to get her used to the stretch. He knew she’d struggle to take him, but the way she was writhing for him made him think she’d be delirious once she’d gotten used to his cock.

“That’s it,” he spoke against her. “My pretty girl is so wet. Do you like my fingers? Hm?” She nodded, feeling insane. “You do, yeah.” He drawled. “Wait until you get my cock, pretty girl. You’ll be fucking dripping.”

She moaned loudly, so loud that it echoed off of the cliffs encasing them. He took her harder, biting her clit harshly. She felt as if she were about to unravel, a completely unnerving sensation as she melted into his touch more and more.

He worked her harder and faster, the muscles in his arms flexed as if sculpted and molded from marble. The sight alone had her struggling to take a breath in. She watched him command her body in a way that she didn’t know was possible, his mouth paying full attention to her clit whilst his fingers destroyed her from the inside out.

Her body thrummed as if coming to life. Burning hot, with searing blood in the currents of her veins. She tightened up, tensing, her body on the verge of something she didn’t know how to gauge.

“What’s happening—”

“Shh, pretty girl, it’s okay. This is what your body wants, let it happen.”

She cried out sharply, her voice a chorus of golden bells that made his ears ring with desire. She exploded around his fingers, into his mouth, all over his chest. He moaned along with her, equally as turned on.

He came over to her, kissing up her body on the way. “How did that feel?”

“Incredible,” she gasped, “I’ve never… felt that before.”

No words had ever been sweeter to him. He kissed her, allowing her to taste her orgasm on his lips and tongue. She hummed, allowing her leg to hitch up onto his hip, drawing him closer.

He rutted his cock against her, her wetness seeping through the thin material of his drawers.

“Can I touch you now?”

He sighed against her mouth. “Yes, pretty girl.”

She mewled, reaching down to cup him. He moaned, kneeling to remove his drawers. She couldn’t hide her reaction to the sheer beauty of him. She’d never seen a man like this before and didn’t even know such a sight was possible. His body was toned, tight, with broad shoulders and a nipped-in waist.

His tattoos were forms of art, decorating his beautiful body. From the ferns on his hips to that fucking tailed woman on his arm. He was truly faced with his fate.

She traced a shaking hand along his defined stomach, his abs trembling beneath her touch. He allowed her to touch him, enjoying the feel of her delicate hands on him.

“That’s it, sweetness. Take your time.” His voice was so deep she felt it in her clit. She hummed out a soft noise.

“How do you like to be touched, sailor?”

He dropped his head back on his neck with a moan before focusing back on her, her eyes alive with intrigue and a little bit of fear.

“Like this,” He guided her hand to his bare cock, and she gasped at how hard and scorching hot he was.

“It’s… you’re so big.”

“You can handle it, sweetness.”

He pulsed in her palm as he showed her how to touch him, moving her hand back and forth. He allowed a string of saliva to fall downwards onto his length.

The added moisture made him whine, thrusting his hips into her hand.

“What else?”

“Here.” He grabbed her spare hand, taking it to his balls, and showing her how to touch them. He whimpered as she massaged them, gauging his reaction as to how hard to do so.

He cursed loudly as she sped up her hand, bowing over her to kiss her deeply, messy and needy. His tongue met hers in a frenzy.

“Use your mouth, sweetness. Need to feel you gag around me.”

“H—How?”

She had heard of no such thing, but how he had used his mouth on her, she knew it had been nothing short of magical.

He helped her stand, taking her over to the flattened rock where she had been resting before. “On your back.” He ordered, his voice low and rumbling with demand.

She did as she was told, happy to let him guide her. She was soon on her back, the rock smooth and familiar to her. One she’d spent hours on, basking in the sun, memorising tunes, and counting the pretty shells she’d scored from blue depths.

He groaned at the sight; her hair fanned out around her, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm, and her legs pressed together to curb her arousal for him. He walked around until he was looking down at her face.

Taking a solid step forward, he cupped her throat, the mermaid flexing against his skin. Muscles rippling beneath its inked scales.

And then the siren before him, mystical and eerie. Dangerous and yet… she was here on her back for him, waiting for his next command.

“Grab it.” He ordered, stepping closer. Her hand wrapped around his cock, expertly massaging and touching. His jaw dropped as she smiled, obsessed with how he felt.

“Does every man look like this?”

“No one is this lucky.” He smirked. She giggled at his jest, his confidence unmatched. “Open your mouth, siren. Let me see where I’m going to fuck you.”

She made a small sound, almost like a helpless animal, and dropped her jaw.

“Obedient little thing. Stick out your tongue.” She obeyed. “Yeah, that’s it. There we go.”

He moved forward until his cock, still held in her hand, was in her face. She eyed it, intimidated and lost.

“Lick it.” He said softly.

“Where?”

He guided his tip towards her, “Right there.”

She gave him a single, small lick. Timid and shy. But the fucking noise he made had her legs trembling with desire.

“Take your time.” He spoke gently as her mouth explored him, getting used to his sheer size, memorising each vein. Licking his entirety with pleased little hums.

“Wrap your lips around it—fuck, just like that.”

She took his head past her lips and his whole body trembled. He pushed her hair from her face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view.

He encouraged her hand to play with what she couldn’t yet fit in her mouth.

He cupped her cheek, holding her still. “I’m going make you take it, okay? Tap my leg if you need a breath.”

She nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Okay. Yes.”

He held onto the sides of her neck, slowly working his cock deep into her mouth, further and further until he could feel her throat constrict around him. She gagged at the assault and he pulled back.

“Is that—”

“Don’t stop.” She rasped and he groaned at how eager she was.

He fucked her throat, slow and steady even though his whole body was trembling. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?”

She whined around his length, her eyes watering, streams falling down her temples. But she didn’t want to stop. She wanted him to feel the pleasure that he made her feel. She was ravenous for it, to hear his blissed-out noises and see what happened when he met his end. Would it be like hers? Stronger? Wetter?

“Fuck,” He whined as she let him take full control and use her throat. To think she had never experienced anything remotely close to this, and here she was, being so good for him and so open and willing. Maybe he really was dreaming.

Her hands reached out, one bracing on his muscled thigh, right over the inked tiger. The other went to his balls, heavy and warm in her palm as she played with them just as he showed her.

“That’s so good, little girl.”

She gagged at the praise, stumbling before her jaw clamped, her teeth nipping around his shaft. He hissed, pulling back.

She gasped, “I’m sorry. I hurt you, I—”

“No, pretty girl. Don’t be sorry.” He cupped her cheek, kissing her swollen lips, licking away salty tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be gentle with me. Do it again.”

“But—”

He gripped her neck. Not tight, but enough to show her who was in charge. The sun burnt through the fog, igniting their display in honey gold and diluted berry. He kissed her. Too far gone.

“Bite me. Hit me. Do whatever you want to me.”

Her eyes darkened, the calmness leaving her face. There was nothing but pure danger there now. As turned on as he was, he felt fearful at the expression. She pushed him back, too hard, and he stumbled onto his back, flopping onto the sand. Helpless before she straddled him, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

She bit his lip, soft at first, but then he let out a sharp yelp when she bit down with force enough to make him bleed. He growled, feeling the warm rush of it seep down his chin. She lapped it up, mewling and grinding her wet cunt against his stomach.

“You are fucking insane.” He gaped, his shock melting into laughter when she smiled manically at him, blood dripping from her mouth.

She allowed his blood to trickle back into his face as she leaned over him.

“What was it you said, sailor? Do whatever I want to you?”

“Anything you want.” He affirmed as soft waves lapped at the back of his head.

The curve of her lips tilted up, her hand coming up to lovingly cup his cheek. So gentle and tender. His heart careened in his chest before her hand abruptly flew up to his forehead, pushing it down until his head was submerged in the salty waves.

He gasped on instinct, the water invading his lungs with a sharp burn. His hands clawed at her wrist but the currents were her home. She held the power here.

Anything you want.

She allowed him to breathe, gasping and blubbering. He glared at her, his chest heaving.

“You little—”

She tilted her head, that fucking tune melting in his ears. Her other hand reached back, gripping his cock in a tight fist. He moaned loudly, whatever insult was lost in the ocean at his back.

“You like that, don’t you?” She threw his words back at him and he whimpered, nodding. His lip stung, the salt water invading the hurt.

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” She hummed before pushing his head back under the waves. Her hand fucked his throbbing dick with such a might he feared he was going to finish all over himself. His chest burned with the lack of air, but he welcomed the panic, and allowed it to fuel how fucking good she felt.

She let him catch his breath, feeling kind as she quickened the pace of her hand, paying extra attention to just the tip of him with the pad of her thumb.

“Fucking filthy g—”

And he was under again, his head submerged while he writhed underneath her. He could feel how insanely wet she was, near on dripping onto his skin, and his hips ground up into her hand, unashamed.

She moved to his side, letting him breathe before her mouth was on his dick again, licking and biting and sucking. Not letting his balls feel left out, even biting harshly into his hips until he was bleeding there, too.

He was dunked under the water for longer and longer each time, the fear making his body shake, self-preservation kicking in while his orgasm loomed right behind it.

She pulled away from his length, moving to straddle his chest, her hands encasing his neck.

“You liked that? The burning in your chest?”

God, if she drowned him he’d probably come at the same time. He groaned at the prospect.

“Let me taste her again.” He gripped her hips, trying to move her up. “Take a seat.” He gestured to his face. “Right here.”

She could feel her body thrum with need all over again, dripping down her thighs at the pleasure she’d been able to give him. She moved up, getting comfortable as she sat on his face. She whimpered at the feel of his facial hair, his beard thick against her.

His tongue flicked out, teasing and slow before she fully collapsed down onto him, giving him no choice but to completely devour her. The water encased him again, and he tasted her and the waves together.

She let him breathe every now and again, but he didn’t stop eating her. He’d been starving for a taste this euphoric all of his life and he was getting fucking drunk off of it.

Her second orgasm was far more intense than the first. Maybe it was because she knew not to be afraid of it. Maybe it was because the man giving it to her was fighting to breathe while he took care of her.

It was a burst of white light that brought shame to the sunrise around them. She cried and sobbed and whined, shaking, falling forward at the intensity of her pleasure. It was so wet. A stream of liquid erupted from her core, drenching him. He drank it, his beard  saturated in her orgasm.

It flipped something inside of him. Some feral, animalistic need. He grabbed her, placing her on her back, the shore lapping at her body before his tongue went to join it.

He kissed her, tasting himself, her, the sea, and his blood between them.

“I want it inside,” she whispered as she gripped his aching cock. “Just like you said.”

“Let me calm down, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, kissing her again, messily whilst his hips rutted up into her hand.

“I want it to hurt.” Her eyes were full of desire.

His head fell into her neck, “Shh.”

“Please… please, I need to feel it.”

“Stop talking. You have to s—stop talking.”

“I need it inside—”

“Shut up.” He growled, taking her hand away from him and pinning it next to her head. “Shut up, pretty girl, please.”

His hand ventured south between her folds, feeling how wet she was before he gave her two fingers, hooking them up against a spot that had her spine turning into jelly.

“You have to be ready.”

“Please, I’m wet. I’m wet. Just give it to me. Stretch me. I don’t care if it hurts.”

Her jaw dropped as he moved his fingers faster. “One more time. One more time and I’ll give you my cock.” He clenched his teeth as he worked harder. “I’m so big, sweetness, drench me again so I’ll fit.”

She cried out, gripping his wrists with both of her hands. She thrashed beneath him as he fucking annihilated her.

“Good girl.” He praised her as she exploded around his fingers. “Do as you’re told, there we go.”

She sobbed, struggling to take in oxygen as she writhed in pleasure. He muttered soft praise and words of encouragement, telling her how pretty she was, how ethereal, how good she felt milking his fingers.

“I can’t wait to feel you do that around my cock, pretty. Want you to cream all over me until I say you’ve had enough.”

“Please give it to me now.” She begged, near tears.

“Yeah, beg for my cock, precious girl.”

“I didn’t know I could feel like this. I need it, please. Please let me have it.”

“Oh, look at you. Cock drunk before you’ve even taken it.”

“Please.”

“Are you wet enough?” He mused, his fingers still exploring, knowing very well how much she was dripping. “Do you think you can take this big cock? Hm?”

“I promise.”

“You promise? You’re such a sweet girl for me.” He kissed her, lifting her legs up to hug around his waist. “I’ll go slow, okay? You don’t have to do a single thing. Just lay back and take it.”

“Okay, sailor.”

He groaned at the nickname, reaching between them to hold his cock, running it against her centre to gather her dripping wetness, moaning at the feel of it. He watched her face as he gently pressed in, swallowing her gasp as she gripped his shoulders.

Yes, she was obscenely wet, but the sting was still there. Sharp yet thrilling. And he had barely done a thing. He pushed in further, angling one of her legs up higher so she was able to take it easier. He was about halfway in now, his head foggy at how tight she was.

She hissed. “Oww.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, I know it hurts. You’re doing so well. Good girl. You’re so tight, so fucking wet.”

He didn’t move his hips, didn’t give her any more of his length until she was ready. Mewling and whining for more.

“You’re too big.” Fuck the way she was looking at him was driving him crazy. Awe and fear at the same time.

“You can handle it, precious. You promised.”

“I promised.” She nodded, her face out of it, brows turned up and her jaw dropped.

“That’s right. I’m going to feed you my cock until you can take it all. I know it’s big but you can do it.”

She whined, wiggling beneath him in discomfort as he gave her a little more. He was finally able to press fully inside of her, moaning as her walls rippled around him.

“How does it feel?” He asked her, his chest heaving.

“Full. Complete. It’s starting to hurt less.”

“Fuck, that’s… good. That’s so good.”

“Can you please move? Just a little bit?”

“Y—Yeah, I can move.”

He retracted all the way until only his tip was nestled inside of her before slowly rolling his hips forward. They moaned in unison, and her nails clawed at his skin.

“Faster.”

“Faster? You like when it hurts?”

She clenched her teeth together as he pumped into her. “Yes. Oh, right there.”

“What a good girl. Taking my dick even though it hurts. Are you going to cry?”

“More, please.” She begged, enjoying the dulling pain. The bite of it lessened, his eyes as deep as her ocean she frequented. They sparkled, alight in the sun as it beamed on them.

Tears of pleasure and pain fell from her brown eyes as he took her harder, screwing into her with sheer power, though his pace was still controlled.

“Fuck. This pussy isn’t used to being used like this, hm? Clenching around me like you won’t let me go. I’ll stay inside you for as long as you want, pretty girl. This is my cunt now.”

She moaned loudly, throwing her head back, the waves lapping at her hair. The way in which he spoke was driving her wild. His body was ensuring insane euphoria, and his words only added to it. Clearly well-versed in how to please a woman and it made her seethe at the idea of him with anyone else.

“Stop squeezing me like that, you’ll make me come.”

“I can’t help it.” She whimpered.

His expression softened. “Aw, does my cock just feel too good? Are you going to get wet on it? Yeah? Want to feel you explode on me. Give it to me.”

“I can’t yet.” She was too overwhelmed, still trying to get accustomed to the feel of him.

“Oh, you can’t? Is that what you think?” He stared down at her, his hips snapping fiercely against her. “Think again.” And his hand reached down, rubbing sweet circles on her clit. She cried out, her nails ripping into his skin so deep that she drew a worrying amount of blood.

“That’s what I want. Make me bleed while you cream all over me. Fucking crazy little girl.”

She stared up at him, her eyes swarming with terror. He was taking her mind and body to places she didn’t understand. Using words she didn’t know how to grasp. But she felt like she was on fire. His cock was so deep and so big while his hand played that sensitive area just above where they were connected.

“You’re about to… God, I can feel it.” He spat out, his eyes squinting. “So fucking tight around me.” She was so wet, too. The sounds that came from between them were making his ears ring.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged. “I want it again, so so bad.”

“You want me to make it hurt again?”

“Please!”

“Nasty fucking—” He grunted, his arm straightening as he leaned over her, fucking her harder until she was crying out in pain. But she liked it. Liked the sharpness of it. How he was massaging a special spot inside of her that was making her feel lightheaded.

His hand stayed playing with her clit, and he spat down onto his fingers to get her even wetter. The dirty sight had her screaming, exploding messily around his cock that he had to fight to stay embedded inside of her.

“That’s my girl. Precious little thing. You’re addicted to this, aren’t you? Can’t stop fucking coming.”

She nodded, feeling crazed out of her mind. He pulled away from her, flipping her onto the rock, bending her over the smooth obsidian. He spread her legs, tucking his throbbing cock back into her snug walls.

“Mmm. So fucking wet, gushing on my dick like a whore. You were made to take me.”

She clawed at the rock, begging for mercy. His hips hit her ass at every powerful thrust, his hands digging into her sides so hard she knew that it would bruise. The idea of having any sort of physical reminder from this interaction had her shaking.

“Harder, sailor.”

His hand grabbed her hair in a fist, pulling her up until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Captain.” He spat out. “You’ll refer to me as captain.”

“Yes, captain.” She rasped.

“Good girl.” He praised, biting into her shoulder. “Say it again.”

“Take me harder, captain. Make me cry.”

He moaned, fucking her hard and fast, her ass reddening from the force of his drive. The pain was almost overwhelming, her body wanting to satiate the pain but wanting to take him even more.

He could feel her body becoming lax as his cock massaged that spot inside of her, the hurt of his size waning as she completely melted around him. A wet, hot furnace welded together just for him.

Her skin almost glowed gold, and it was then that he realised that she had been the treasure all along.

He moaned softly, his body coming to cocoon hers against the rock. His pace slowed down, deliberate and delicate. She gasped at the roll of his cock inside her, how much more intimate it felt now that he was holding her.

“Pretty girl,” His lips found a sweet spot right below her ear. “So glad I found you.”

She stifled a whimper as he took her, whispering little sentiments in her ear that made her legs tremble. How he’d spent all of his life searching for something, riding vicious tides and sailing dangerous winds. He’d found gold, priceless treasures, and uncharted waters.

But nothing could have prepared him for how fulfilled he felt at this moment. Wrapped up in a beautiful body that no one had the privilege to map out and explore.

Wanting to see her face, to see those deep eyes and plump lips, he placed her on her back. His touch was so gentle that it didn’t feel real. Like he was a phantom of dreams he’d yet to have.

He stepped forward between her spread legs, always his good girl. Her hand wrapped around his cock, which was saturated in her orgasms, and guided him back to her wet haven. He moaned loudly as her walls squeezed around him, delighted to have him within her body once more.

She whined loudly, “Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t, precious girl.”

She was near tears as he began to slowly fuck into her, his chest pressed tightly against hers.

“Do you promise?”

“Until my last breath.”

She threw her head back, and he took the opportunity to suck and nibble and kiss the skin, a soft sheen of sweat on his tastebuds as his cock throbbed inside of her.

God, she felt insane. Like her body had been immersed in a potion specifically aimed to make him crazy. He stopped fucking her, taking her in with his lust-speckled eyes. Her hips began moving at their own accord, screwing into him mindlessly, searching for release again.

He growled, holding his hands behind his head. His muscles flexed at the action, inked skin rippling.

“Is this what you wanted when you found me washed up on the beach? To fuck yourself on my big cock?”

“I don’t know, captain.” She cried. “I saw you and just knew I had to save you.”

“Thank you, pretty girl. Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down, fingers splayed across her jaw as he kissed her messily.

She made a restless noise. “Take me again.”

“How do you want it?” He asked against her lips.

“Fast.”

“Anything else?”

“I like when you touch me.”

“You like it when I touch your pretty little clit?”

“Please touch it.”

“I will, I’ll never leave her out. I’ll rub your clit while my cock destroys you until you’re gushing all over me.”

“Will you… feel like I do, too? Can you?” Her cheeks heated at the question, hating that she knew absolutely nothing about any of this.

“Yes, I’ll come. I’m going to come so deep inside of my girl. That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She whined.

“You’ve turned cock dumb, haven’t you? Just aching to taste my cum off my cock after I’ve destroyed you with it.”

“Fuck, please! Just fuck me, make yourself come. Please.”

“Do you want me to use you? Hm? Nothing but a little fuck hole for me? Is that right?”

“Yeah.” She gasped, sobbing.

“You give me one more. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum.”

“I can’t!”

“Does it hurt?”

It was starting to hurt again, from the intrusion of his heavy thrusts and how often he’d played with her.

“Yes, captain.”

“And if I rub this poor little clit better?” He reached between them, his thumb pressed to her clit to rub firm circles. “How’s that?

“So good.” The words were barely registrable beneath her moans.

“So good,” He breathed out. “My good girl.”

“Yours.”

The sentiment ripped through him like a fierce wind that almost knocked him off of his feet. Yours.

He took her as hard as he possibly could, his chest burning at the exertion. He spat on her clit, though she hardly needed the extra moisture. He flicked, pinched, and rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves until she was a crying, shaking mess that exploded forcefully around his cock.

“Fuck, I love that. Messy girl, soaking me like that. So fucking pretty.”

She clawed at his chest, not caring when he hissed and winced at the sharp pain. She knew he liked it. Her cunt trembled relentlessly around him, drawing his own orgasm closer and closer.

“I want it.” She whined as he hugged himself to her, arms wrapped around her to keep her where he wanted.

“You want my cum?” He moaned in her ear, her body his own heaven. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up with it. Are you gonna take it? Yeah?”

“I’ll take it!”

“All of it? Do you promise?”

“I—I promise, captain.”

“Gonna make you keep it inside of you.”

“Oh, fuck—“

He didn’t know much of how her body worked but hoped that leaving part of his own would become something more. Any sense of permanency on this fucking island was welcomed, especially if it was with her.

“Will you let me stay here? With you?”

“I’d never let you leave anyway, sailor.”

Days ago such words would have him cowering in fear. But hearing them now… it did unspeakable things to him. Spurred his orgasm from a soft tingle to a crackling fire.

“I’ll stay.” He whimpered against her lips. “Fuck you right here until I’m drowning in you. Make you take my cum and keep it inside of you until I’m hard again.” He grunted, fucking her so hard that his teeth were vibrating. “You like that? You want to keep my spent dick inside of you until I’m ready to fuck you again?”

She cried out at the sheer power behind his driving thrusts, his cock achingly hard inside of her, pulsing and throbbing as he neared his end.

“Give it to me, captain. Please let me have your cum.”

Her voice was soft, wispy dreams sent gliding over foggy waters.

He burst inside of her with a loud moan, one that careened in soft echoes around the cove. She gasped at the feel of his cum coating her used walls, her cunt rippling at the sensation. He was beautiful as it was, let alone when he was coming.

His expression was one of undiluted bliss, though he almost looked as if he were in pain. His soft lips parted to allow her the view of his two front teeth, his brow furrowed, sweat dripping from his temples in gentle beads.

She cupped his cheek, her heart breaking at what he wished he had been promised.

His eyes found hers as he came down, staying deep inside of her, his hands flexing against her sides.

Her skin felt cold, he noticed. Far more icy than what he’d felt before. Abnormally so.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked, his voice not sounding like his own. His chest burned as if the air had been ripped from them, abruptly and harshly. He coughed, unable to find a source of oxygen even though he was here… on the beach.

He blinked, the sun disappearing. It was all grey, a deep haze as his eyes struggled to adjust. The waves lapped at his body as the tied came in, swarming at his skin like it was magnetised to him.

“Yes, sailor. You are.” Her voice. Cold and evil. The tune pierced through her words. He opened his eyes and the sting in them was immense. He screamed in pain, only for water to invade his mouth and nose, filling his lungs.

The cove was stripped away, in its place a deeply submerged trench. One that he had been somehow forged into.

And her. His siren. Her eyes dark pits, her scales shimmering with divine wickedness. Her tail swirling through currents she knew how to hold. He was drowning. He had drowned. He could not tell what was real, only that his body was no longer part of him.

Her hand reached out to him, touching his forehead as she had on the beach.

And he saw flashes. Flashes of the cove shrouded in gold. Flashes of her body and his body. Their joining. Flashes of death and suffering. Flashes of his ship and an angry storm that took it.

He had not left his ship.

He had gone down with it.

***

taglist :

@keepdrivingkisses @lolyouallsuck @victoria-styles @harrysonlylover

[bean-counter29]

@inkskinned made a poem about the 7 Deadly Sins that was so bloody good that I simply had to make art for it. Such representation is ultimately more feeble than the imagery in the writing; but I hope it captures some of the intense emotion portrayed.

“what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape… gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables…”

“oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away…”

“sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and [he] is deciding it is none of [his] business… someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - [he] knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it.”

“greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark… greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM.”

“envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it…”

“how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes... that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence... lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value…. [he] has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.”

“…the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize… it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations… it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.“

the original poem can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/inkskinned/729104414448730112/nobody-ever-gets-the-mugshot-of-gluttony-right?source=share

all images generated by me with Midjourney.

[saphirered]

I absolutely love you're writing and would love just general headcanons for Yussa and his Bard SO. Please and thank you!

Sorry this took so long. Hope you like it! 😘

-

When Yussa first met you, or heard you he almost spilled the contents of his latest carefully planned, prepared and measured project. You made him jump and almost set him back weeks worth of work so when he found himself angrily looking out of the window where that angelic voice came from, it turned out it came right from below, in the square near the Tidepeak. He couldn’t deny you not only had a beautiful voice but knew out way around a lute and lyre too. The music had been beautiful but came at an inopportune moment, no matter what he did he couldn’t block out the sound.

When the music returned the next day during his reading it was very much pleasant. So pleasant he actually moved his chair over to the balcony so he could see you play from the square. Now with a better look, not only were you a great musician, you’re gorgeous at that too and he was not at all surprised to see the crowd gathered below watching you play and hanging onto every word of your song. He’d sent Wensforth to deliver you a generous reward for your entertainment. He’d seen the donations people left in a hat at your feet but deemed your skills rather undervalued. If you wanted to you could gather a crowd contesting those who attended the Ruby of the Sea’s performances, in his opinion.

Day after day, this nicely dressed goblin would bring you a most generous amount of coin that provided you not only a stay in a lavish inn, but also paid for all your daily expenses and then some. In the middle of your performance you couldn’t go after the goblin to thank him for his donation but on a particularly rainy day you were able to follow where he went; into the tower people had warned you of, the one without doors and only a balcony and some windows that seemed to move every day or even hour.

So after your performance you went knocking. Of course there was no door so you felt a little stupid knocking against the stone tower. When no answer came you just sat down at the base gently plucking away at the strings of your instrument. You’d wait to see if someone came home or left. It was nightfall when you saw someone on the balcony and you shouted up.

Little did you know this would be the beginning of something life changing. The Tidepeak would not be a place you’d distance yourself from and its master even less so. He’d ask you to play for him, revealing he had been sending you these generous donations. Yussa Errenis had offered you more than triple what he had given you for no more than an hour of musical entertainment once a week, more than you’d make in that same week alone so how could you refuse.

Those once a week for an hour extended to several times a week and long conversations after as not only were you an expert musician, you made for company just as good and for the first time in a long time Yussa realised he might not be as much of a solitary creature after all. He was simply lacking the company he needed and could appreciate. There was a mutual understanding and trust between you two, and a honesty he had not found anywhere else.

You let Yussa hear the new songs you’d been working on and pieces you were composing first before you played them in the open, and even left some of them just for his ears and realising this may just have made the stoic wizard blush like never before. You’d managed to break that attitude and while a man of manners and a head held high attitude, he wasn’t as cold nor distant with you. Though, not even you could tame that arrogance. Nor did you want to. There was something attracting about that.

You’re both smart enough people to know when an infatuation grows into something more and this is it. So you did what any reasonable adult would do; sat down and worked it out, communicated and figured out where you would stand in this. When the feeling turned out to be mutual it worked in both your favours as you could simply engage in that instead of keeping up an air of professionalism between musician and patron.

That did not mean your private concertos stopped. If anything they grew more frequent and if you weren’t on the road, had another place to perform or the weather was just simply bad, the door of the Tidepeak would be open to you day and night, and Yussa’s company at your side be that to listen to you play, you gently strumming away while he worked, or the two of you talked until the early hours of morning about your lives, your songs, his work or the hardships and frustrations you’d endured since you last met.

Physical affection would have to go slow. You might not be as opposed, it’s something Yussa needed to be eased into. Having lived alone and without the comforts of another for so long, he quickly got overwhelmed and needed a moment for himself. Never would you shame or judge him for that. You understood and that’s when he knew for sure he could see a future with you.

From that moment on, no more would you sleep in a tavern or an inn or wherever else you found suitable. You’d get your own space at the Tidepeak to do with as you pleased and while he had given you your own sitting room and balcony, you’d still most often found your way to his study even if just to sit there. Yussa wasn’t at all opposed to this as he rather enjoyed your company regardless of volume. He’d gotten used to it and would miss your presence when working.

Kisses were a rarity for the first few months and Yussa let you take the lead when it came to them but over time he grew more daring and eventually even came to initiate them of his own volition and without a feeling of needing to satisfy you but simply because he enjoyed them. You’d find yourself sitting on the couch, Yussa using you as a pillow while he read and he’d press a kiss against wherever was most convenient from his position. It never failed to make you smile and he’d do it just to see you smile, taking pride in getting such a gentle response.

Yussa is not a trusting person and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t trust you but old habits do die hard. Sleeping in the same space had been something he just couldn’t do, not even the meditative trance of his elvish blood. However, when you two fell asleep on the couch together, that made that easier. A bed was still a big no for sleeping purposes but the couch had become better and better and no longer would he lie awake while you slept.

Going out in public with Yussa may have been a bigger step in your relationship than physical intimacy of any kind. Yussa knew the opinions of the sharks around him and what lengths they would go to get into his good graces and he wanted to shield you from that, if not for your own sake then for his. But he couldn’t simply act like you didn’t exist and his changes in attitude came out of nowhere as those sharks also weren’t fools.

Attending a ball with Yussa was always something, you’d be stared down like the main show of the evening, or as if you just entered the room stark naked but you were very sure you weren’t. You’d be swarmed by people in a matter of moments, people wishing to hear the latest gossip and figure out your exact connection with the master of the Open Quay and during Yussa’d be internally screaming absolutely exasperated by these intruding annoyances and simpletons. Luckily he had your charm to save yourself and him. You’d deflected all advances, questions and unpleasant encounters like a protective shield with ease and grace and if those failed you a simple discrete spell to charm them into leaving you the hell alone was not out of the question. He couldn’t be more thankful. Maybe he should bring you along more often as you had proven to be his saving grace.

You may not be a politician nor were you schooled in his kind of magic. He may not be a musician nor was he particularly schooled in the ways of the bard’s colleges. None of that mattered because you were both willing to learn, showing an interest in the life of the other. Admittedly certain practices would never be the thing for the other but that didn’t matter because you could still appreciate the other’s love for it.

At the end of the day you were happy and would be happy, be that because you wrote a new song or Yussa cracked the code to a spell of his own making, you for scoring an invitation to play at some famous place in front of some renowned individuals, or him for making way in his practices and helping a group of curious individuals end a threat looming over this world. You were content with your wildly different lives and happy a song and an annoyance began it all.

[gamequeenanya]

Swimsuit (switch!Thomas, switch!Nico)

At his house, Nico was getting prepared for his date with Thomas.

"Oh my gohosh, you're not actually wearing that." Nico's Anxiety said. Anxiety was wearing a black and orange checkered hoodie with the hood up. 

"Why not?" He said, observing himself in the mirror. He wore an old fashioned men's swimsuit - almost full body coverage - with sleeves and pant leggings. It was blue and white striped. "We're going to the beach."

"It has a hole in it!" 

Nico blushed. "I patched it up!" 

Anxiety looked away in secondhand embarrassment. "No, you didn't. You cut an even bigger hole in it and straightened out the edges."

"So? It still shows less skin than a modern swimsuit.”

Still looking away, anxiety said no more. There was a circular hole right in the middle of the suit that showed off his navel.

Nico giggled. "Come on, you don't really think Thomas would take advantage of this...?"

Anxiety shrugged. "I wouldn't push my luck, Flores."

...

Nico had wrapped a towel around his middle and strolled up to Thomas' house casually. He held a cloth bag with other beach things. Knocking on the door, he waited.

Thomas answered, and his casual expression turned into a big grin. He was wearing swim trunks that were black with indigo polka dots. Nico felt his cheeks heat up, this being the first time he was seeing him shirtless.

"Nico!" 

"Thomas! Are you ready for our beach date?" 

"Yeah!" He said, grabbing his own beach bag. "Let's go!" 

Virgil, however, popped up. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" 

Thomas gulped. Great, what was he forgetting?

"Just a second." Thomas told Nico. "I'll be right back." 

He then searched the house for whatever it could be that he was forgetting. After about ten minutes, he found it - the sunscreen he'd left on the table. Slipping it into his bag, he went back to Nico. 

"Sorry about that! Almost forgot this!" He showed him the bottle. Nico giggled. 

"Can't forget that!" 

...

At the beach, Thomas rested for a while in the shade, on a picnic bench. A large willow tree provided the shade. 

While Nico brainstormed in his notebook for his new song, Thomas applied his sunscreen. He burned easily so he didn't want to take chances.

Nico undid the towel from his waist, and placed it beside him. Finishing his thoughts, he packed the notebook and pencil away in his bag. Getting up, he walked over to the sand. He kneeled down and started building a sandcastle.

When Thomas was finished he came over. The sandcastle was sculpted like a real castle.

"Woah, it's so detailed!" 

"Thanks! It's for you." Nico replied. "I call it my Sanders-castle!"

Thomas gasped. "You didn't!"

Meanwhile, Patton squealed internally. 

"Oh my gosh! He made a dad joke!"

The others fanned Patton and tried to prevent him from fainting. 

So Thomas got an idea. He made a castle of his own and picked a bunch of dandelions, placing them in the top. It was just a hill with flowers.

"I call this one: Flores Castle!" 

Nico made a surprised squeal of delight. 

Thomas' heart melted. He wanted to hear Nico squeal like that again. And he had just the idea.

"Say, Nico... I don't think you put on sunscreen yet."

"Huh? Oh, you're right." 

Thomas grinned. "Don't worry, I can put some on you."

Nico squirmed in place. "Oh, that's alright. Thanks for the offer, though." 

Taking the sunscreen from his boyfriend, Nico applied it to himself. He made sure to get it on his face, neck, hands, and feet.

"You missed a spot," Thomas teased. 

"Where?" 

He wiggled a finger towards Nico's navel. 

"Eep!" Nico jumped back, shielding himself. Carefully, he applied the sunscreen to the final uncovered spot.

"There. Happy?" He huffed. Thomas smiled. 

"Yeah." 

Nico smirked, noticing Thomas didn't bother putting any sunscreen in his own navel. He poured some sunscreen onto his finger, and placed the bottle with his bag in the sand.

"Now that you mention it, you also missed a spot!" 

Thomas gulped and ran for it! Into the lake he went.

They splashed each other in the water, laughing. Nico tackled Thomas and managed to apply the sunscreen in his bellybutton, swirling it around. Thomas squealed, thrashing around and pushing him away. Nico came around and squeezed his sides, causing the man to yelp. He made a counterattack, going for his armpits. Squealing, Nico pinned his arms to his sides. Thomas' hands were stuck and he couldn't get away! 

"HEHEEHEHEHEEEHEHEEHEHEHEHEE!" Nico squealed, thrashing. Finally, he slipped under the water, out of reach from Thomas. He played shark and grabbed Thomas' right ankle, scribbling along his sole.

"HEY!! AHHHHH! AHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHA!" Thomas cried, jumping and stumbling backwards. Luckily the buoyancy of the water caught him. He found his balance again.

Nico surfaced and caught his breath. Thomas chuckled. He let Nico breathe for a while, making sure he was alright. 

Then he advanced on him with an evil grin.

Knowing he was in trouble, Nico swam out of the water and ran, laughing. Thomas wasn't too far behind and ran after him. They ran past the sand and onto the sidewalk, their sandals making squishing noises.

There was a park ahead with a playground. Multiple seagulls lined the sidewalk and flew off as the boys chased each other. 

Nico's Anxiety was working overtime.

"Oh my gosh, he's gonna get us! We are so dead!" He thought. However he couldn't deny the joy he felt with the adrenaline rush. 

"Quick!" Nico's Creativity said, rising up. This person wore a black nobleman's outfit with a feather hat and indigo-coloured cape. "You can dodge him in those bushes, and assuming he can't climb a real tree, up that tree!" 

"What do you mean 'real' tree?" Logic asked, rising up as well. He wore a green plaid tie and had round glasses. "I'd think a fake tree would be harder to climb!" 

"Not if it was made to be climbed!" Creativity shot back.

"Whatever! Now is not the time!" Anxiety shouted. He pointed to the swings. "Maybe if he's in motion, Thomas won't go near him!"

Nico came to a stop at the swing set and sat down. He was about to pump it, when Thomas appeared. He was faster than he looked! Stopping him, Thomas wrapped his arms around him, grinning. 

"Caught you."

Nico giggled in anticipation.

With that, Thomas tickled his exposed navel. 

"HEHEHEHHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEHEEE!" He squealed, pushing against Thomas. 

"I told you so!" Anxiety cried, remembering the conversation from this morning.

Creativity rolled his eyes. "Who's to say this wasn't a cunning plan to get Thomas to do exactly this?" 

The other sides went silent, blushing. Morality had popped up too. They had curly hair and wore a light pink floral dress and silver hoop earrings. 

"Oh my gosh, you can't be serious." Creativity said. But the others looked away shyly. "Alright, that's it." 

With that, Creativity pounced on Anxiety, squeezing his squishy sides and tummy. 

"HAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!" Being anxiety, his reflexes were to fight him off immediately, regardless of how much he enjoyed it. "AHAHAAHAHAHHAAAAHA!"

Soon, he was wheezing and out of breath. Creativity gave him a break. 

After Anxiety came Logic.

He tried to keep his pride and not laugh. But with Creativity scribbling over his ribs, it was difficult to hold out. He too, broke."HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAAAHAAHAA!"

Half a minute later, Logic cried out for mercy and Creativity let up. 

Finally, Creativity got Morality, scribbling all over their feet.

"IHIHIHIT'S NAHAHAHAT FAHAHAIR!" They cried, pounding the ground. "AHHAHAHAHHAAAHAHAA!"

Creativity grinned, stopping when Morality cried uncle. If he'd known it was this easy to make the others lighten up, he'd have done this ages ago! 

The others panted. When they caught their breath, they looked up at Creativity. 

And that was when he realized he'd made a mistake. Stepping back, he didn't make it two seconds before the others pounced, getting his neck, sides, and feet all at the same time.

"AHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!! WAHAHAHAAAIT!!"

While his boisterous laughter rang out in the mindscape, Thomas was just about done. He quickly swirled around Nico's bellybutton, and gave it a gentle boop. Finally, he pulled away.

Nico caught his breath. 

"Oh my gosh, Thomas!" He said, wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm never wearing this around you again!"

But that was one promise Nico couldn't keep.

...

Thomas drove them home. 

He apologized if he came across as a little forward. Nico said it was fine. That he didn't mind tickles, and that it was fun seeing Thomas come out of his shell a bit. He considered the date all around a good one. 

They scheduled another date next week. Thomas had agreed on a more simple date at his house. 

After dropping Nico off, he kissed him on the cheek and waved good bye. 

"See you next week!" Nico called out.

Thomas' heart thumped in his chest. He couldn't wait until then.

...

[Bonus scene: Thomas' house; in the living room.]

Thomas: (announcer voice) Pokemon Pranks: With Boyfriend!

(Nico is relaxing on the couch)

Thomas: Minccino! Use tickle!

(He jumps on Nico and tickles his sides)

Nico: Hehehehe! Hey wait!! Hahahahahaa! (clutches his stomach and curls up)

(Afterward)

Thomas: (ruffles Nico's hair) You are just the cutest!

Nico: (he pulls out a Yugioh card from his pocket) Mirror Force! 

Thomas: Oh no! (falls over on the couch like he just got blasted)

Nico: (chuckles) Looks like I win!

Thomas: (too polite to correct him) Looks like you do. (gently boops nose)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Octa A-kun’s Heart-Thumping Day!

For the 1200+ follower milestone, here is the next part of the cursed raven’s story!

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Today’s tale involves Octavinelle A-kun in a pinch...?! Fight on, Octa A-kun...! You can do it, Octa A-kun...!!

My name is Kon...! I’m just your average, everyday Octavinelle student. I tend to blend into the background, so a lot of my classmates call me Octa A-kun.

I’d say that my favorite food is salted fish, and I happen to like whatever seems to be popular these days. I have the window seat in my home room. Most of the time, I just go with the flow, but I like to keep my head low and stay out of trouble!

All I really want is a quiet, peaceful life!

...So—you may ask—how, then, did I find myself in this pinch?

An arrow whizzes at Octa A-kun’s head, tearing off his fedora and pinning it to the wall behind him. It just narrowly grazes his hair, ripping off a deep green strand with a sharp jolt. Octa A-kun squeaks in terror and collapses onto his rear end.

“Pardon moi, Monsieur Kelp,” comes the light-hearted chirp of his assailant. A young man in a bob cut steps forth, a bow in his hands and a quiver strapped to his back. The billowy white feather tucked in his hat bounces with each stride. “I was in need of some early morning target practice.”

Third year and Pomefiore vice-dorm leader, Rook Hunt, according to the rumors. Be wary of him--once he fixates on something, he will not relent.

“A-Ahahaha...I-It’s fine, senpai!” Octa A-kun stutters, scrambling back onto his feet. He glances at his poor hat, skewered clean through--he’d have to file a request for a replacement later. Azul would charge a fee for it--with interest.

“Ah, how merciful you are, Monsieur Kelp~” Rook laughs as he approaches, each step in his boots the resounding thump-thump of a predator on the prowl.

Octa A-kun shrinks against the wall. “U-Um...! Do you need something from me, senpai...?!”

“Hohoh. How perceptive of you.” Rook plucks his arrow--and Octa A-kun’s hat--and holds his weapon up in the sunlight, his green eyes focusing on the gleam of the arrow’s dagger-like tip. “I’ve merely come for a query, my friend! No need to make such a frightened face.”

“Just a question i-is fine. But it has to be a quick one...! I have to meet up with my partner for a project...”

“But of course. I will not keep you for long.” He tucks the arrow back into his quiver and replaces Octa A-kun’s hat upon his head. “Be honest with me--that is all that I ask of you.”

Rook maintains the curve to his lips as he brings his face closer to his prey. His smile darkens, and the glimmer in his eyes fades into something far more cruel.

“...You would not happen to have been sent by one Roi de Fort, have you? To, perhaps, spy on a little black bird?”

Octa A-kun pales. Sweat collects on his forehead. A lump forms in his throat.

“I-I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT...!!” he blurts out.

Unconvincingly.

Rook’s eyes narrow. “I have requested for you to speak naught but the truth, have I not?”

He reaches out and takes ahold of Octa A-kun’s collar, pulling him close--so close that the poor boy can make out his own fear-stricken expression in the green of Rook’s eyes.

The hunter still smiles, his teeth a stark, blinding white.

He’s beautiful, Octa A-kun realizes. Beautiful, but deadly.

“Y-You’re being r-really scary, senpai...! P-Please don’t bully me...!”

“La vérité, Monsieur Kelp?”

A drop of sweat races down Octa A-kun’s profile. Pupils dilated, breath hitching, body trembling.

In the distance, a bell tolls--granting him an opportunity to escape.

“Would you look at the time...!! I...I really gotta go now!! M-My project partner’s waiting for me, ahahaha...!! E-Excuse me!” Octa A-kun shouts shaking from Rook’s grip and sidestepping the hunter.

He begins to speed walk away, hands balled into fists and arms swinging stiffly, when Rook calls out to him.

“...Monsieur Kelp.”

Against his better judgement, Octa A-kun dares to glance back.

Rook is staring right at him, his gaze piercing.

“Know this: if you betray her, there will be more for you to worry about than damaged articles of clothing.”

And with that remark, Rook allows his prey to retreat.

But he watches every step of the way.

Until Octa A-kun is nothing more than a dot in the distance.

“Welcome to my roost,” Raven declares with the wave of her hand. “Ignore the mess, and make yourself at home.”

“D-Don’t mind if I do,” Octa A-kun says, carefully ducking into the attic space.

Mess is a bit of an understatement. Raven’s room is piled high with tomes, loose papers scattered on the floor and smears of ink all over.

Tucked away in a corner appears to be a mattress, with a blanket in a nest-like shape, a pillow laid in the center. A bookshelf overflows with volumes on ancient curses, while a strange teardrop shaped seat, decorated with ribbons and wisteria, hangs by a window.

Set upon a large desk is a snuffed out candle, a quill set with a magic gemstone, and several empty bottles and blank labels. A basket spills out its contents--herbs, flowers, and fungi--next to a mortar and pestle.

What really catches Octa A-kun’s attention, however, is the strange collection of glass apparatuses and tubes that line the desk. A small flame dances under the rounded part of a flask, heating up a rose-gold concoction.

“Looks like you keep pretty busy, huh?”

“You could say that. I like to remain productive.”

Octa A-kun offers a timid smile. “Um, if I may ask, what is it that you’ve got brewing at your desk...? I-I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Raven pauses.

“...Do you know that feeling of rediscovering a part of yourself you thought you had once lost? Or the rose-tinted glasses which clouds one’s vision? The wonderfulness of meeting an old friend? Think of those things, set in the color of dawn, beckoning a new day.”

“E-Eh?” Octa A-kun combs his brain for a response. “Uh...you mean nostalgia?”

“Precisely. This is my latest creation--Nostalgia. It took me two whole weeks to get this new ink color just right, but it shall be lovely to write with.” Raven puffs up a bit with pride. “Oh, but enough about my personal projects. We need to work on that Magic History assignment, yes?”

“Y-Yes. That report on Unique Magic Development...” Octa A-kun’s eyes follow Raven’s hand as it trails over a series of books on a shelf.

Hexes, and How to Break Them. True Love’s Kiss: Panacea or Poison? Ancient Curses: A Collection of Anecdotes. Journal of Magic Medicine, Issue 32: Jinx Edition.

“Ah, here it is.” Raven fishes out a maroon book with a few sticky notes jutting out of it--Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture--and hands it to Octa A-kun, along with a spare quill, an inkwell, and a fresh sheet of paper.

She gestures toward the seat adorned with wisteria. “Have a seat and work on your half of the report. I’ll be working on my half at my desk after I clean up. We can compare our halves and edit as is necessary when both parts are complete.”

He complies, sitting where he is directed and flipping open Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture.

Two sticky notes immediately pop out at him. One sports a list of various unrelated words (Nostalgia, Sorrow, Regret, and an L word that appears to have been blotted out, left illegible).

The other sticky note has a little diagram labelled Unique Magic, a heart in the center with arrows pointing outward. Needs faith, trust, and a little pixie dust, one arrow remarks. Infusion of feelings requires experience, says another. Practice with Nostalgia, a third states.

Octa A-kun slowly lifts his eyes from the page--carefully watching Raven tidying up her desk.

With the flick of her magical pen--or quill, rather--she extinguishes the flame beneath her flask and sets it into a test tube rack to cool. Raven collects her plants into a basket and tucks them under the desk, along with the rest of her glassware. Then she gathers stray papers and pops open her drawer to stow them away--

And that’s when Octa A-kun catches a glimpse of it.

An unopened letter, in a pale blue envelope.

To My Dearest Raven scrawled across it.

“...And that is the g-gist of it,” Octa A-kun concludes his report, “dorm leader.”

“Excellent work, Kon-san. You efforts are greatly appreciated.” From behind his ornate office desk, Azul clasps his hands together and beams. “I suppose there is no longer any need for Floyd to pay your friends in Pomefiore and Scarabia a little visit.”

“Boooo,” Floyd groans from beside him.

“Th-Thank you for your kindness, dorm leader!” Octa A-kun gushes--if only to (poorly) mask his own fears. He wants to sink into the couch cushions and disappear like sea foam. “B-But...But if I can make a request, sir!”

“What is it?” Azul sounds mildly annoyed, but Octa A-kun steels his courage and persists.

“Um...i-if possible, can you assign s-someone else to check on Miss Raven? I-I’m scared of what Rook-senpai will do to me if I make the wrong mo--EEP!!”

Before he has even finished his sentence, Floyd is flying at him like a shark tearing through water.

WHAM!

Octa A-kun screams as Floyd’s foot connects with the couch, boxing him in and nearly knocking the furniture over. Azul’s glasses flash a pure white, and he makes no move to restrain the feral eel.

“What was that, Konbu-chan?” Floyd asks--no, demands--as he leers down at him. Teeth gnashing. “Did I hear you right? Umineko-kun got in the way?”

“E-Eeeep! Ch-Chill out, Floyd-senpai! You’re...you’re scaring me!!” Octa A-kun whimpers, his poor heart pounding out of his chest.

“Speak freely, Kon-san,” Azul prompts, waving a gloved hand to silence Floyd--but his tone is just as icy and cruel as the eel’s eyes. “What is this I hear about...interference?”

“W-Well...h-he seemed to know that you sent me. And he said he might...do things if I make a misstep.” Octa A-kun furiously shakes his head. “I’ll need a replacement hat after th-that encounter...I-I’m sorry, dorm leader, but I r-really don’t want to be involved in this any more than I have to...!”

Azul leans back in his chair, and his face settles into a serious expression.

“Uwaaah, Jade wasn’t kiddin’ when he said Umineko-kun was guarding Black Pearly like a shark on sunken treasure,” Floyd flicks his tongue along his teeth, which gleam dangerously under the lights of the VIP room. “Even the low level lackies get chewed up and spat out, ehehehe~”

“This is not funny, Floyd. This just makes things that much more difficult,” Azul snaps, pushing his glasses up.

“It’s fine, it’s fiiine,” Floyd insists dismissively with a giggle. “I’ll just follow Konbu-chan--and if that creep Umineko-kun gets close, I’ll beat’em bloody~”

“I-Isn’t that a bit extreme?!” Octa A-kun protests, only to earn a withering glare from Floyd.

“Shut your trap, guppy. No one asked for your opinion,” Floyd hisses--then his expression brightens considerably when he addresses his dorm leader. “Ne, ne, Azul! Can I, can I?”

“Absolutely not. We still need to collect more information before taking such drastic action,” Azul says, his voice tinged with irrtation. “Might I remind you, Floyd, that Octavinelle is, once again, in poor standing with the headmaster? It would not do to further tarnish our reputation with another incidence report.”

“Laaaame~” Floyd pouts, backing away from Oct A-kun. “I’m not allowed to do anything fun anymore.”

“As I was saying,” Azul continues, ignoring the eel, “thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kon-san. Your work here is done--you are relieved from your duties until further notice. Dismissed.”

“Y-Yessir!! Th-Thank you so much, sir!” Octa A-kun breathes a massive sigh of relief. He is quick to gather his coat and hat, then bow to his senpais and hurriedly exit.

Azul pinches the bridge of his nose.  “...This will become a problem if it persists.”

“I don’t get it, Azul!” Floyd whines loudly, slamming his hands on his dorm leader’s desk. “Why don’t we just kidnap Black Pearly already and make her ‘n Jade ‘fess up? That’d be sooo much easier than dancing around Umineko-kun!”

“That is not how proper reconciliation works, Floyd,” Azul points out. “If we are to fix this mess, then we cannot hope to resolve it overnight.”

He thinks of the details Octa A-kun had divulged--the countless books that litter Raven’s abode, the fixation on work, the strangely named ink, the interest in curses...Surely they must all mean something.

He pauses, before adding, “...I feel as though I am missing a vital piece of the puzzle.”

“Ehhhh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Call it...octopus’s intuition. There is something bigger at play here, something far more powerful than you or I can comprehend.” Azul folds his arms. “And if we intend to bring back Miss Raven into Jade’s arms, then that is one puzzle piece we must find.”

“Hmmm.” Floyd leans down, peering into Azul’s solemn face--then breaks out into a toothy grin. “Ne, ne, you really care a lot about Jade, don’t you?”

“Hmph. Don’t be ridiculous,” Azul snaps, lips pursing into a straight line. “This is merely a case of an employer fretting over the well being of his employee. Jade cannot perform at his best if he is emotionally distressed. I am simply doing my due diligence as his employer to ensure that he is content--it benefits the business.”

“Ehehehe~ In the end, Azul’s heart is juuust as squishy and soft as his octopus form~” The eel wraps his arms around Azul, squeezing the dorm leader against his chest. “That’s sooo cute~”

“FLOYD, DO NOT PRESUME TO KNOW MY INTENTIONS...!! AND UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Nope! Don’t wanna~”

Octa A-kun is halfway down the corridor when a hand clamps down--hard--onto his shoulder. The student squeaks in terror as he is whipped around--and comes face-to-face with his smiling vice-dorm leader.

“Good evening, Kon-san,” Jade says nonchalantly, his tone light but his aura dark. “Might I have a moment with you?”

For the third time that day. Octa A-kun’s stomach sinks--but he lacks both the strength and the willpower to resist.

“S-Sure...Wh-What is it?”

Jade cranes his head down, his single golden eye glowing despite his sinister shadow. “I have received word that you have been snooping around campus. Naughty, naughty Kon-san. You should know better.”

Octa A-kun instinctively takes a step back, putting some distance between him and his vice-dorm leader--the information broker of Octavinelle. No secret can evade him, it seems.

“Th-The dorm leader asked me to...!” he confesses, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

“Please, be at ease. I do not bite,” Jade says smoothly, chuckling into his glove. “Now then, my sources tell me that you happened upon Miss Raven’s quarters. Is this correct?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Then let me ask this of you--did you, by chance, see a blue envelope?”

“Blue envelope...” Octa A-kun’s eyes light up in realization. “A-Ah, I do seem to recall seeing something like that. She...She keeps it in a drawer. It was unopened.”

“Unopened...?” Jade repeats the word carefully, as though handling a delicate artifact. He brings a hand to his chin in contemplation, his brows furrowing. “It is no wonder why she continues to behave in such a vehement manner,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Um...vice-dorm leader? Is everything alright?” Octa A-kun asks nervously.

“...No. It is nothing, I assure you.” Jade composes himself, smiling once more--this time, without a hint of darkness to it. “Think nothing of it, dear Kon-san. Please, do retire for the night--that was all I wished to know, fufu.”

“O-Of course, vice-dorm leader...”

Jade sees him off with a polite wave.

Octa A-kun waits until Jade is completely out of sight before he collapses into a heap on the ground. He clutches onto his stomach, which twists and knots with fright, and sniffles softly to himself.

Why, oh, why was he not sorted into a normal dorm with normal non-scary students and normal, healthy relationships with their peers? No, instead he’s trapped in the mermaid mafia and witnessing Overblot incidents every single month.

Go to Night Raven College, they said. It’d be fun, they said. You’ll get a great education, they said.

J-Just...Just give me a quiet, peaceful life already...!!

[shinymooncolor]

Sweater weather chat #12 part 2

Hi all!!! 

As promised - here’s part two to chat #12!

First of all - massive thanks to @lumosinlove for giving us this world! 

Also thanks to @frombeauxbatons for giving me ideas, support and just generally letting me vent and rant <3 

the amazing @paulian03 cleverly came up with Sirius giving the boys the nickname O’Knutzy in the story and that features both in this chat and the next. :) 

link to part 1 here :) 

So, 

Sirius is hiding in a closet. Remus is sarcastic. Kris is worried. So much love for single dad Kris <3. Dumo wants to call PETA. Blizzard doesn't judge. Olli has opinions. Olli is the best. Timmy is offended. Alice is a boss. Finn has ideas. They involve glitter and rainbows. Mental health awareness is important! Natalie is precious. We establish that consent is EVERYTHING! 

Sweater weather chat #12 part 2

--

Tuesday 2.54 pm 

Sirius <3: re!!!!!! Help. I’m in the green closet. 

Remus ❤️: I’m not gonna make a joke. But. It’s right there. Which green closet? I lost you around the beds. Thought you were behind me. How’re you sneaking away so quietly? 

Sirius <3: someone put it on Twitter. That I’m here. These ladies followed me. Hat to throw my hat down on the floor as a way to distract them. Never seeing that again 😭 

Remus ❤️: sneaky....... you could just sign their bras and get on with your life.

Sirius <3: really? Sarcasm. I was being hunted by cougars re. It’s scary. Help me.

Remus ❤️: alright. Send me a pic. 

Sirius <3: *pic* 

Remus ❤️: I sent you to get a lamp. You ended up on the first floor somehow? In the kids section. And no we’re not buying that massive shark. 

Sirius <3: it’s for Ava. 🥺

Remus ❤️: really? 

Sirius <3: she told me Jackie is her favorite (I assume Jackie is Nado?) and I need to be the favorite. Logan already beat me with the Dumais’ kids. I need to win somewhere. 

Remus ❤️: and bribing her is the way?

Sirius <3: of course it is. How else? Can’t dazzle her with my hockey or money or fame. Need some real firepower and a big shark is a winner. 

Remus ❤️: I’m here now. Which closet are you in? 

——

Tuesday 4.31 pm

Nadotheman: guess who’s trending on twitter for hooking up in Ikea.

Blizzard: my first guess is always you? But as you’re texting you’re either oddly proud or it’s not you. Kuny? 

RussianGod: not me 

Timmyforrealz: @blizzard you’re not even thinking about me? Could totally have been me. Nado not the only one who’s got crazy girl skills. 

Ollibear: skills? Buddy you’ve had a three month drought. 

Timmyforrealz: DONT listen to Olli. He’s a baby. He’s still a little virgin. 

Ollibear: first of all. There’s nothing wrong with not being into sex. Asexuality is a valid thing. Also I’m not a Virgin. I just prefer a partner who either has no idea who I am or likes me for me. 

Ollibear: also, the three of you are easy @russiangod @nadotheman @timmyforrealz. You literally sell out for a pat on the ass and a wink. I could get with either of you with very little effort. 

Nadotheman: oi! I’m not easy. I have an acquired taste. 

Talkiewalkie: acquired taste = anything human with a pulse and the ability to consent. Literally. I’ve watched you pick up. 

RussianGod: as long as consent. What’s big deal? They say yes it’s ok. 

Prongstar: I JUST SAW THE PIC WTF?????

Prongstar: also, Olli? That’s the spirit. 

LeWilliam: cap?!!???? 

Logantremblayzzz: whattttt 

Talkiewalkie: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA WELL YOU CERTAINLY CAME OUT THE CLOSET..... LITERALLY

CarbO’Hara: damn!!! I was gonna say that 

Newt-leo: I said it first. You just type like a madman.

Krisvolley: is that the shark you dropped off for Ava? 

DumoDad: better call peta. Poor shark. 

Siriusly: it’s not whAt it looks like. Someone tweeted I was in there and the cougars descended upon me. I had to hide. Someone actually ripped my shirt and Remus was gone to look at pillows. I had to hide. It was scary. 

Blizzard: so you didn’t do a quickie in Ikea with a plushie shark watching? 

Siriusly: no. We didn’t, also, sirius had to put his shirt back on in a Hurry. Someone did rip it (re here) 

Blizzard: I’m not judging. Whatever makes your skates fly cap. Never had Re as an exhibitionist tho . 

Siriusly: he’s not. We didn’t do anything. Some lady ripped my shirt and I hid in the closet while the nice Ikea girl distracted them with some sort of family offer I think or free ice cream whatever. But they’d actually ripped my shirt. Re helped me put it back on... you guys are idiots. 

Logantremblayzzz: heheheh whatever you say. 

Krisvolley: so you didn’t do nasty things to or near the shark my daughter is now refusing to give up? She’s named it fluffy. I’m worried. She said it’s just smiling? Should I be worried? 

Siriusly: ew no of course not. Promise. 

Nadotheman: sure. Also I see what you’re doing cap. I’m favorite. Back off.😫

Siriusly: no idea what you mean. JACKIE 

Blizzard: Jackie? That’s cute. How’re you today Jackie? 😘

Nadotheman: shut up kasey. Or I’m gonna spank youuuu 

Krisvolley: you guys do realize she’s literally calling whoever gives in to her whims and tantrums her favorite right? Also I’m her dad. I’ll always be her number 1! ❤️

Nadotheman: awww we know. Best single dad!!! 

Siriusly: we’re not trying to steal her kris! You’re doing amazing! 

Ollibear: yeah man she’s so lucky she’s got you!!! 

Blizzard: we love you kris 💖💖💖

—-

Wednesday 1.33

Alice: alright. Ikea confirmed that there was a situation involving fans and we were able to mostly control the narrative. You have to prepare for some chirps and a few memes. 

Sirius: what’s a meme? 

Alice: I swear to god sometimes you’re a grandpa stuck in a young man’s body. Ask the rookies. 

Sirius: you’re really mean. 

Alice: I’m also really good at my job. So suck it up captain. You’re a hockey god. I’m a PR god. We work together and magic happens.

Sirius: I’d think that was flirting but I’ve seen you make heart eyes at frank. So. We’re good right? I swear I won’t roll my eyes for the next, like, three interviews 

Alice: you better not love. And yes, frank is rather into me, isn’t he? Time I put him out of his misery, I think. 

Sirius: good luck! (To frank) 

Alice: I’ll tell him 😜

—- 

Finn: hey Alice!! 

Alice: O’Hara, how can I help? 

Finn: I just had an idea ok? 

Alice: I hope it’s better than take your dog to work day. 

Finn: that was a great idea. Not my fault that skates and jersey are easily confused for chew toys. 

Finn: but I thought we could do a charity skate or something? (Need your brain here) so all Star was a massive success so maybe we could do like a charity thing soon and get money for like lgbt+ mental health awareness right? Like. Cap is of course new to this but I can speak up, my brother is happy to support too and I bet the team would too! We could invite young people on the ice and do like a you can play thing? I know it’s not pride but like. We could wear rainbows and glitttee and????  I really wanna support cap!! 

Alice: I like your enthusiasm and the idea. Give me a few days with my team and we can work on something? I also believe congratulations are in order? For your and your boys? 

Alice: also. you typed about 100 “like” in there. I’m worried about the state of the American school system. You're a Harvard graduate.... 

Finn: I love you! I’m terrified of you but I also love you and thanks. I want to get us jerseys saying O’Knutzy? That’s cute right. 

Alice: it’s easy to make happen but Finn, maybe sit down with your boys and heather first ok? Maybe cap too. Coming out is a lot and I want to make sure you’re okay with the consequences. There’s a lot of bigoted people out there and it breaks my heart I can’t protect you better than I do! 

Finn; hey we know you’ve got our back! 

Alice: I’ll see what I can do. Is the team ok with this? 

Finn: yeah most of them I’ve asked and the rest will follow I’m sure. 😀

Alice: you’re a good kid! I’ll do my best! 

Finn: 😘😘😘

Alice: I’d say that’s inappropriate but I know you mean well! 

——

Finn: NAT!!! She said she’ll look into it! 

Nat: I love you finn and we’re gonna make this event explode in a shower of glitter, love and rainbows. 

Finn: 💖🏳️‍🌈💖🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Nat: 😘 also sent you some stuff on email about poly. 

Finn: wait? You and kasey???

Nat: No but I’m a musician baby, me being in a het relationship is the weird thing in our community 😜

Finn: maybe I hang with the wrong crowds. 

Nat: hopeless hockey boys ❤️

Finn: you’re dating one. 

Nat: I know. And I ship your poly arrangement harder than fangirls on tumblr. If anyone says anything tell me and I’ll relieve them of their knee caps

Finn: I get why you and kasey works. His threats are also oddly specific. He made the Boston rat cry when he detailed his imminent death via goalie pads. It was eerie. 

Nat: that’s my man 😍

Finn: weirdos. I’ll let you know when Alice is back ❤️

Nat: 😜🏳️‍🌈💖🙏🏻🌍😇

[luccislegs]

Luna! Can I please have some Kaku, Lucci, Iceburg, and Paulie hcs with a civvie seamstress s/o please? Thanks you 🙏

iceburg:

He meets you purely by accident. He had been looking for some place to get an adorable costume made for Tyrannosaurus and you literally ran into him as you were rushing down the street towards your shop– which he was standing outside of. Very flustered and kind of sweaty, you led him into the shop and went about measuring Tyrannosaurus. Iceburg adored how you talked to the quite large mouse like he was a person, and all the care you put into the process of fitting him.

Iceburg fully expected you to do a good job, but he popped in over the next few days just to see you. He was surprised, however, when you seemed nervous and when he asked, you explained that you were afraid he thought you were doing a bad job. The little outfit was almost finished and looked wonderful, but he realized how it could have appeared to you now.

So he laughed and explained that, no, he just liked you. That got a rise out of you, but not as much as when the mayor of Water 7 asked you out on a date. That night, he picked you up and showed Tyrannosaurus to you, now decked out in your awesome new suit, and promised he was going to commission more for both himself and his pet.

Being a seamstress for the mayor (and his partner) has its perks. You get preferential treatment and a lot of business. Iceburg is unabashed in promoting your work, and you see a large upswing in sales. 

Of course, he always comes first when he puts in an order. He’s always careful not to seem too unfair though, and he makes sure that the other tailors don’t become too unhappy with his special treatment.

kaku:

Kaku met you through Lucci by way of picking up a new jacket for Hattori. Lucci had been going to you for years, but Kaku had never had the pleasure. After that first meeting, he started to casually offer to go and pick up Lucci’s things for him whenever he could. (Lucci would usually smirk and accept, having recognized Kaku’s true intentions. Besides, it meant he didn’t have to do it.) 

When you questioned him about where Lucci’s been, he flushes a soft red and averts his eyes, wondering if you missed the other man or something. But then you laughed and told him you really wanted to see Hattori in the pieces and he relaxed. For all his training, he really couldn’t hide his feelings well from you, and when he left that day it was with your mushi number in hand and promises for a date.

At the point when you meet him, he’s already past the Water 7 incident, so you know who he is. You don’t care much, because he’s terribly sweet and unassuming, but it takes a little while for you to trust him completely. He continues to pick up Lucci’s clothes for him (which he receives later and later each time), and even starts accompanying Lucci to his fittings, much to Lucci’s amusement.

lucci:

You obviously had to meet Lucci while he was looking for a new tailor. He had been to a dozen or so at that point and had not liked a single one, until he found you. The care you took and the gentle way you talked to Hattori endeared you to him, but what really settled it was the effort that went into your work, even for what was “only an animal.” And so, he began to frequent your shop.

Most times, Lucci was cool and professional, maintaining his uncaring facade as he placed his order with you. After a while, though, he began to respond whenever you would make small talk. Not that he ever ignored you to begin with, but he wasn’t as invested in the conversation then. It took him awhile to realize that he didn’t just like your work anymore, he actually liked you, and that both intrigued and perturbed him. He thought he was beyond emotions like that, and yet he found himself seeking you out more often for petty things like a new band on his hat or a new handkerchief for his pocket, flirting and teasing a little more openly as he waited for his orders to be done.

It didn’t actually come to anything until the day he caught another Marine flirting with you as you were opening up your shop. The utter relief in your eyes when you caught sight of him filled him with a feral pride, and his shadow loomed over the Marine, who spun around in surprise. It must have been the possessive, almost predatory look on his face because the man quickly fled, offering half-apologies and excuses as he ran off. 

It was silent as you finished unlocking your door and darted inside, unsurprised to find him near behind you, a small smirk on his lips and a playful glint in his eyes. He said nothing as he pulled you close into his arms and leaned down, waiting for you to reject him, before he kissed you deeply. Only after that did he ask you out, and although he expected the answer he got, there was still gratification there.

Even though you become his partner, he still expects a professional attitude, even if he finds it endearing how you become more lax about speaking to him and Hattori. He’s very supportive, allowing you to use him to try on some fittings, so long as he gets something out of it. He doesn’t admit it, but he likes the attention you pay to him. And he has no problems whatsoever with allowing Hattori to be your guinea pig for new outfits ideas, and genuinely likes every one of them.

paulie:

He meets you by virtue of chance, when he ducks into your little shop while running from his loan sharks. You watch in confusion as he scuttles into one of your clothing racks, pulling the hangers in front of him so he can’t be seen as they run past. When he exits his hiding place, he’s confronted by your bewildered stare, and his face turns tomato red as he realizes that 1) you’re gorgeous and 2) you just witnessed him being a total idiot.

So Paulie being Paulie, he freaks out, calls you a hussy, and runs off again. The next day, he appears again with a box of donuts in hand, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before shoving it into your hands. His apology is muttered and embarrassed, his face the same shade of red as yesterday as he takes in your legs in the shorts you had worn that day. He really, really tries not to freak out, but he can’t help it. He bursts into a nosebleed, yells about how you’re a tramp, and runs off again. After he rounds the corner, he almost curses himself.

The third time, he realizes you’re a seamstress and so, steeling himself, he enters the shop and pretends to browse a little before finally approaching the counter. You’re watching him with a guarded look, your brows quirked in preparation for another outburst, and are pleasantly surprised when he lays a jean jacket on the counter. In a very gruff manner, he asks if you can fix the massive hole where a pocket used to be, and you don’t ask him how he managed it. Instead, you decide to tease him a little by asking why he always runs off calling you names. He stutters out some nonsensical answer and you cut him a break by laughing and calling him cute. It’s enough to send him into fits, and he hauls ass out of the shop in embarrassment.

For some reason you can’t figure out, he keeps showing back up to the shop, and you slowly but surely get to know him and when you get past his ridiculous flight reaction, you find him interesting and smart, and it slowly morphs into more. You’re pretty sure he feels the same, but you know he isn’t going to be the one to ask, so you do. In response, you get called a name but after a few moments of freaking out he relaxes and begrudgingly agrees.

Being with a Dock 1 foreman has its pros and cons. There are a lot of jealous people that throw looks your way when you’re out and about with him. They all want a piece of the foremen, and you’ve snagged one of them up. On the other hand, business increases because you’re seen with him so often, and Iceburg himself personally begins shopping with you.

Paulie is also not easy on his clothes. He’s strong and good at his job, but loose nails, his knives, fights with customers, and a whole slew of other things causes his clothes to tear and fall apart more easily than most normal people’s. After a while, you give him a heavy discount because he’s in there so often and so loyal, plus you know he’s broke from his gambling. It’s almost sad, if not a little endearing how he spends what little he has as an excuse to come see you.

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Yule Man (5/7)

Told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

On the Solstice Eve of that year Chris arrived back in Arnsberg close to the old bridge. Once again, he dressed in a long fur coat and dirty beggar clothes, carrying an old bag. He touched his face and discovered his shaggy beard hadn't changed at all. Deep down he still had hoped things to be different.

The town changed even more from the last time. Entire neighborhoods seemed to have withered away. Filthy tenements with shattered windows and people dressed no better than him. Beggars and homeless children scattered everywhere. Pain and sorrow stamped on everyone's faces.

"What happened here?"

He walked faster as he could until he reached a church in a better part of the town. Exhausted, he rested leaning on a statue of the Silver God. As soon as he saw him, the priest shoved him away as a dog. Somethings never change at all.

He wandered in those streets, until an old woman stopped him. She looked exactly like the grandmas in Sophia's picture books.

"You're the Yule Man, right? I know her." The old woman chuckled. "She told me if I saw you, I should send you to this address."

And she gave him the address and went her own way.

"Mia?" He looked to the piece of paper in his hands.

The address lure him to a small building downtown. Candlesticks illuminated the windows. Rows of holly and mistletoe were hanged through it with care. The sign in the door announced the place to be closed, yet they forgot the door open.

A huge man dressed in all black from the head to the toe stepped out of the store. On his way out he bumped with Chris.

"Happy Yuletide!" He took off his bowler hat to greet him, when Chris thought he saw all the evil of the world in his eyes.

He then disappeared in the mundane crowd. Chris entered the store, without knowing what he had saw.

Still confused, he called:

"Is anyone here?"

He saw full-body mirrors, measure tapes and cushions lying on the floor. Pieces of fabrics were scattered everywhere. Some carefully sorted and saved in shelves and cabinets. Others dropped over wooden tables. Someone had engraved dozens of needles on the heads of the mannequins. That unsettled him.

A woman in a purple dress shirt turned to him from the balcony. Seeing her face drove all his fear and worries away. In what seemed like the interval between seconds, he jumped to her arms, which closed tight around his body. He had returned to Mia.

He glared at her. She didn't look like the rich girl he had met. Her clothes showed simplicity this time. Modest and simple. A purple coat and skirt, covering a blue waistcoat.

She served him a cup of hot cocoa. She knew exactly what would fill him with happiness and made him warm. By the look in his face, she did it right again. She brought him to a small apartment over the store. The place stroked as tiny, yet still cozy and not uncomfortable at all. Chris saw a moderate Yule tree with some Yule Goats around, and he knew Mr. Hayek lived there.

They sat by her blue coach. He made a silly face that said to her. "C'mon, tell me what happened."

She took a sip from her teacup and started.

"After the Yule, I took my part in father's inheritance and left the shrew alone." She told him, and both on that room felt deep pride for her.

There was a sense satisfaction in her face. He loved finding that in her. Chris managed to smear himself with the drink and it made her happy.

"You're a tailor now?" He teased her.

"Being a writer wouldn't work out for me." She smirked.

She gave him a white blouse.

"Dress it."

From the bathroom he came as handsome as she remembered him. Mia struggled to keep her good form.

"I didn't say to shave the beard. You can keep if you want."

"I don't want!" He winked to her.

She continued telling him her year.

"I bought this place from an old woman. She wanted to retire and pass more time with her family. She actually helped a lot setting all this up."

He turned to her.

"Was she the woman who bring me here?"

"Possibly." Mia gestured with her shoulders. "I told everyone that I knew that if they saw you, they should give you the address of this place."

"And who was that man I saw getting out of the store. He creeped me out."

Mia grew quiet. She exhaled. Talking about him never brought her any pleasure.

"It would be Franz Müller, the Cat’s-eye. He's a loan shark who thinks a lot about himself. Each month me and all business in the neighborhood have to pay his fees. Don't think much about him, most of the time he just takes the money and leave us alone.

The question frightened Chris.

"What happened to the town?"

Mia shut her eyes.

"Economic crisis, and my father can't help them this time."

"What about the ball in the Hayek’s mansion?"

She raised her voice to him.

"Which ball!"

That sudden change of mood made him jump out of his place.

"Sorry, mother closed the gates of the mansion to the town. She's still rich. Made a deal with my father's business partners. She guaranteed hers but forgot about everyone's else." She said full of deep resentment.

"I kind learned this by myself because you. I don't want to brag, but I'm good at this." She continued. "I bought this place. Learned a trade. Started to work."

"So, you're a working-class woman now?" He smirked.

"It's what it looks. I still have part of my father's inheritance. And with the work I got I can sustain myself quite comfortably for quite a while."

Night had come. Chris released his bag over her terrace, filling the sky with the magical snowflakes. All the town saw the light and cold dash up into the clouds. Billions of ice crystal dancing and flowing through the air. Mia never got tired of seeing that scene.

She launched the Yule Log into her simple fireplace, and they both sat close by it.

"I want to give you something."

She gave Chris a box. A beautifully wrapped present.

"Happy Yuletide." She couldn't wait to see his reaction.

He opened the box. A tiny bottle full of shiny white sand inside, and little seashells keeping it in good company. He knew exactly where they were from. His eyes filled themselves. He started to cry, to sob even, and still laugh of happiness. He hugged her, and he didn't let her go. His first Yule present ever.

They sat on that place for hours, and still hadn't ran out of things to say to each other.

"Your mother?" He asked.

"Still angry with me. After a time, I stopped trying to save our relationship. It wasn't worth it in the end. I still get to see my siblings. Will take them to Yulesing tomorrow. Without the Solstice Eve Ball, I worry how they will spend the holidays."

Mia explained to Chris how things had got different. This year she couldn't take him to party through Arnsberg.

"I don't care. I only want to be near you."

They stayed hours doing completely nothing. They enjoyed each other's conversation and company in general. The cold was the best sensation ever and the room was as cozy as it could be.

In the end of the night Chris tasted Mia's lips. She had thought they would never come to that. She led him to her room, where she felt his body in hers. Soft, tender, perfect.

They stayed in bed hugged to each other. Through the window in the wall opposite to them they could see the snow slowly dressing the world in white.

"I love you." She said resting her head on his chest.

He felt physical pain saying that:

"This isn't love. It's just a romantic fantasy. What you have for me isn't real. I'm not real. You can't love a person you only spend thirteen days within the whole year." He forced a small laugh.

Her mouth twitched.

"I can if it's true love."

His forehead puckered.

"You don't have to put up with me for the rest of the year. We don't go through the same stuff other couples go through. When the holidays are over, I'm gone. I'm won't think, I'm won't feel, I won't remember a thing. I won't be."

"Chris!"

"Sorry. What we got are only moments."

"So, why are you so against enjoying them. In general, everyone's life is just a moment. They live, they die, and it's over. At least I can enjoy a time with you. For me it's already worth it."

He closed his eyes.

"I'm dying to go to Lichthafen City with you."

He gave her a faintly smile. The room then became quiet.

In the next day they went to take the Hayek children to Yulesing. Mia knew very well that Chris loved it more than the children. Her siblings were nothing more than an excuse for doing that. Yet, he loved her siblings. They stayed with them for half of their days together. They had fun.

In the other half they stayed alone in Mia's apartment over her tailoring shop. Cuddling in her bed, eating sweets, and watching the world through that window. Best days ever, for both of them.

The Yule Log turned to ashes. Time to go again, and again in the next year he returned, in the exact same manner. Time passed, and he left, and left, and still returned to her. Each year, thirteen days only.

Chris watched the town change and change around him, and only he stayed the same. In a wink of time, Sophia, Fritz and Thomas started to leave childhood. How much that stroked pain in him. Even Mia started to look more like his older sister than his lover.

Poverty spread through the town as if a disease. Good and respectable neighborhoods crumbled to ruins before his eyes. Organized crime and urban violence turned Yulesing a thing of the past. Mr. Müller became much more than a simple loan shark.

Everything changed, less him.

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No. 21 - Family Part I

Chapters 1 - 10

Chapter 11

Danny still feels the rush of nervousness when Steve has made it clear he wanted to spend time with him and Grace at the beach, at home where he grew up. This is big. This implies family and a future. Danny wants it. He wants everything. He wants to have days and years ahead of them. This day symbolizes a milestone.  And… and they are only going steady for a week, a week. What a stupid expression but seriously, they're only together for seven freaking days! Good Gracious, but to Danny, it feels as if they'd picked up where they have left off in another life. It must be something like that. Steve shared Kamekona's insanely ridiculous comment after a hot night. In the darkness, sweaty, their legs entangled and with a soft press of Steve's lips to his chest, Danny learned that Kawika and Kame think Steve and he are soulmates.

Also on AO3

Danny's heartbeat tells him he believes in this weird spiritual crap. The way Steve and he go at it just tells that the guys are right about it. This isn't normal. It's not normal how he misses Steve when he's at work. It grazes madness the way he breaks every traffic rule just to get as fast as possible to his man. Gosh, Danny feels like he's sixteen again and so madly in love.

Steve always waits for him at the flower shop no matter the time. When Danny walks through the door Steve greets him by pressing him up against the nearest wall before he kicks the door shut. Danny drowns in Steve's gasps and whispered words. They make love and they fuck on every surface available. They eat in between, feed each other only to end up in bed exhausted, satisfied, and with new bruises and scratches from the various pieces of furniture in Steve's jungle house.

But today is the kind of special that adds a new depth to what they already have.

Today is beach day. Steve has waited for this day from the moment he has told Danny about the color turquoise he plans to paint the walls in Grace's room. The room he plans to put up at his house. All week-long, Steve has been out here to get everything ready for Grace. He has kept everything a big secret. Danny is still overwhelmed by Steve's devotion and the sheer force he makes things happen.

Danny still can't believe how fast everything turns into this let's-spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together thing. He's not scared. Maybe he should be scared because they've skipped having any date at all only to jump right at fucking each other's brains out to steer toward having a family day at Steve's parent's house where he lives. That's… intense especially for Danny but he's not worried. No, in fact, he's as calm as a sleeping whale. He and Steve click like nothing he has ever experienced. And he loves this guy with almost an angry seriousness and that scares him sometimes. Because at this point, Danny knows there will never ever be anyone else but Steve.

And Danny has brought Grace to the game like from 'zero hour' and that's something he has never done with any of his former dates. Never. As if he had a choice. Jesus. He ran into Steve at the hospital. In a blink of an eye, Steve and his little girl have bonded over doing a game on the seesaw on a children's playground. And Grace has turned into that center from where Steve's world has started to grow into a completely new dimension. Danny isn't a nervous wreck over the possibility his baby girl could get hurt over them breaking up. Danny knows hell is going to freeze over before he and Steve won't make this relationship work. Because that's what this is. They don't name that huge intimate thing that grows every day into so much more. It just is and they know it. Danny would freaking marry this wild beast of a wonderful man on the spot if he asked him. So, yes, his mental health floats in a sphere he hasn't known existed.

"Do you have everything you need?" Danny calls from the kitchen. He washes salad in the sink, standing in Steve's kitchen, and picks the limp leaves to heap them up on the countertop. He dries his hands on a dish towel he has thrown over his shoulder.

Grace runs into the kitchen right up to him. She wraps her arms around his legs. "Steve has bought everything, Danno." She tells him excitedly. "He has sand shovels, a pink sand sifter, a blue pail, a green one, and a red pail for the water. And – and a lot of plastic forms. Big ones and small ones and there is a dolphin and a mermaid and fish." She bends her head back and looks up at Danny. Her face is in awe.

Danny lifts her up to have a father-daughter talk. "He showed me. I guess Steve has bought the best pieces to build the greatest sandcastle of Hawaii just for you. He wants you to have fun. You okay with that, Monkey? To be outside with Steve at the beach?"

"Uh-huh," Grace's head wobbles with eyes big and joyful.

"I stay in the kitchen for a bit and prepare lunch, okay?" Danny knows Grace is going to be fine but he's not so sure he's ready for this challenge. He wants to be though. The vastness of the ocean scares him and all the horror movies with giant sharks roll through is mind. "You call me if you need something or you'll tell Steve, okay? He's taking good care of you."

"Yes," she answers and writhes like a snake in his arms. "I wanna go outside, Danno."

"Where's Steve?" He knows how important it is for Steve to dig around in the sand with Grace, to hear her laugh, and to see her joy. He knows that but still, it's Grace and there are tons of seawater rolling in steadily a few feet from where they want to build the sandcastle.

"He says he wants to get the towels." She runs out of the kitchen but comes right back. "Steve said he bought a turtle for me." Grace shouts breathlessly.

Danny smiles with eyes as big as saucers. "He bought a turtle for you? A living animal?"

Grace giggles and storms back into the kitchen. "No! Danno! A sun umbrella that looks like a turtle!" She's out of breath and leans against the chair.

Danny can't really grasp all the small events that have turned their lives upside down. During the last week, he hasn't slept one night at his apartment. And he spends all his spare time with Steve. It's been a whirlwind of emotional and colorful days.

"Danno!" Grace calls over to him. "I said Steve has a turtle umbrella for me."

Danny snaps out of his reverie. "Sorry Monkey, I got lost in thoughts." He strokes her hair, "a turtle umbrella! Wow! That sounds awesome. Why don't you show me?"

"Okay," Grace plucks at her bathing suit with the flower print. "I'm hungry."

"Do you like a sandwich? Ham and cheese with tomatoes? Yeah?" Danny cuts one of the prepared Jersey sandwiches in half. He hands her the plate. "Here Monkey, one is for Steve. Lunch is ready in an hour. You gonna start with – with what? Digging holes?"

"Come, I'll show you," Grace takes the plate and walks out the door. "Steve said we'll make a big castle and we dig a deep ditch so the water can stream right in. He said the waves will fill the ditch and it's fun to watch."

Danny's heart overflows with happiness seeing his little girl so excited about something. He worries way too much. They'll be fine having a wonderful beach day without him playing watchdog. "Where's your hat, Gracie? And what about your fancy sunglasses? Don't you want to put them on?" Danny follows her into the living room where he has put their luggage.

"Have you found your glasses?" Danny steps up to where his daughter kneels on the floor. He crouches down beside her.

She goes through the sports bag Danny has packed to bring to Steve's house. It's a big house with big rooms but it looks strangely empty and abandoned in some way. Steve spends more time at the flower shop than at his parent's house that is his real home. Mary and Kawika live right next door. Danny thinks it's beautiful to have a sister living so close by, her backyard only a few minutes down the beach. Steve could drop by any minute to have a chat, have breakfast together.

"Got it!" Grace shouts and shoves the pink flowery shades over her nose.

"You look like a beach lady with big plans." Danny takes the plate with the sandwich. "Come, let's go and see what's Steve up to all alone at the beach."

Grace dashes out the door before Danny can ask about the sunblock and the extra shirt.

Steve puts up the second sunshade right next to the turtle one. "Hey, Danno, shall I cream Gracie with sun cream?"

"I don't want it." Grace says, already busy with the buckets. "It's sticky and makes all the sand stay on my arms and knees." She whines a little and picks up the little shovel.

"It's hot out here, Grace. You have tender skin. We can't leave it unprotected." Steve explains with a gentle voice. "Let Danno decide what's best for you, okay? I'll put on some cream too if this makes you feel better?" Steve suggests and bites heartily into a juicy half of Danny's favorite Jersey sandwiches. "Ah, it tastes awesome." He keeps a distance and just gifts him with a smile.

Danny knows Steve's insecure how much affections he's allowed to share in front of Grace. "I take pride in prepping the most authentic New Jersey sandwiches. You're welcome." He winks and makes sure to hold Steve's gaze. "Grace, come do me a favor and put on this shirt. We can't have you catch a sunburn. That hurts and it's not good for your skin. And your mommy wouldn't be pleased with me."

Grace is digging, too busy to even reply. She stretches her arms over her head and let Danny put on the white, light shirt. "That's better, Monkey."

Steve also pulls a shirt over his head. "Look, Grace, partner look. See? I wear a shirt too. It's simple, effective sun protection." He darts another smile over at Danny. "You okay with me and Grace out here, Danny?" He drops to his knees next to Grace where she's busy digging holes and filling the plastic forms.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." Danny bends down and adjusts Grace's hat. He kisses the top of her head and leans over to press a soft kiss to Steve's head, too. Grace doesn't even notice. Steve's warm hand caresses Danny's calf. "I'll be inside and prepare lunch. You'll shout if you need anything." Danny points a finger at Steve. "You take care of my little girl and don't let her be in the sun too long. Take breaks and come visit me some time so I know you haven't been washed out with the surf to God knows where."

Steve gifts him with an epic eye-roll. "Danny, I'm a SEAL and I spent my childhood at this beach. It's Hawaii and I know the rhythm of the tides like the back of my hand."

Danny wiggles with his index finger. "SEAL or no SEAL, you show up at the kitchen after an hour." He juts his chin in Steve's direction. "Is this understood?"

"Sure," Steve answers with a forced chuckle. "Your wish is my command."

"Hey," Danny makes Steve look at him, "I trust you." He emphasizes again.

Danny knows Steve's overeager to get it right for Grace and him. Danny's not as relaxed as he wished to be but he chooses a lighthearted voice to show Steve he's okay with him looking after his daughter. "Good. Have fun then." Danny turns and is about to walk back to the house. He taps the beaten wooden chair lightly and calls over his shoulder. "Steve, don't go swimming without the life vest on. Please?" He can't help it.

Steve gives him the thumbs up but the next second he's deepened in a serious conversation with Grace. They've got big plans. Danny walks back to the house with a warmer feeling in his stomach. This is better. It's going to be alright.

The flap flap flap sound reaches Danny's inattentive ear halfway into cooking his mother's famous tomato sauce. The lasagna sheets and the béchamel sauce are ready. Steve's kitchen smells like an Italian restaurant. He nibs at a spoon full of sauce to check what misses. He tries hard to keep the attention directed to cooking. His gut tells him to go check up on what's going on at the beach. But he stays inside and squashes the itch to act like an overprotective father. Steve's going to do great by being the adult looking after Grace.

Flap flap flap.

Cheese. He has forgotten to take the Parmigiano Reggiano out of the fridge. That's the best cheese to grate on top of the dish once all layers are filled in. Danny talks in his head to distract himself. Some odd worry spreads into his stomach and he can't figure out why. He shuts his eyes and counts to ten before he rinses a spoon and a knife under the running water.

The sound of the helicopter seems to spread wide into the sky, and it's getting closer and louder. Danny lifts his head to look out of the window. He sees a banner with the lettering 'newly married John and Amanda' and a big red heart. Danny watches a moment, seeing how the small airplane crosses the sky followed by one helicopter. No, two. Gosh, three helicopters approach through the sky. Some rich dude makes his kid's wedding a day to remember. Why do they need to fly over this part of the beach? The pilot makes sure the guests get what they've paid for. They fly so close by Danny can read the logo on the birds. Freaking idiots.

Danny's heart jumps to his throat and the cutlery clatters when he drops it in the sink. Helicopters and loud whirring rotor blades. Not good! Steve! Shit, is this…? Danny spins around and rushes through a safety check to make sure nothing's going to burn or boil over before he dashes out of the kitchen. He's not half-way through the living room when he hears Grace's scared and high-pitched voice, filled with dread, shouting his name.

"Danno! Daddy!"

Grace doesn't ever, ever call him daddy unless she's terrified.

"Grace! Gracie! I'm here! I'm coming!" Danny yells. Spiking Fear gives him an instant headache. He tastes blood in his mouth his heart beats so hard and fast. Danny yanks the door the lanai open. "GRACE!"

Danny bolts forward. He sees his daughter's face in tears; eyes wide with fear. She throws herself into his arms. Danny catches her and carries her immediately inside. He needs to check on her first, to make sure, she's unharmed. "Grace-baby, it's fine. Danno's here. Are you hurt? God, what's up, Monkey?" He carries her trembling little body over to the couch and keeps her pressed to his chest. He whispers soothing words and strokes her back to calm her. She doesn't seem hurt. "Are you hurt, baby?" He tries again.

Grace tucks her face into his throat and shakes her head. She's hot and sweaty and pants from running so fast.

Danny holds her in his arms until her sobs calm down. Only then he realizes what she's wearing. A life vest and big towel is thrown over her shoulders like a cape. Two floatation aids are pulled over each of her upper arms. She still wears the hat but her sunglasses are gone. Danny undoes the knot of the towel. His hands shake terribly. He's legs are numb from the shock that something might have happened to his little girl. He still hears the fucking helicopters in the sky. The sound seems deafeningly loud. He feels his heartbeat in his tongue. "Monkey, hey, sweetheart," he kisses her tear-stained cheek. "Baby, where… where's Steve?" He whispers against her hair with his nerves strung tight.

TBC

[starfaring-princelotor]

The Prison Kingdom

Chapter 1: The Empty Legacy

-

Summary: The world is becoming more and more dangerous, both on land and sea. It’s time for you to face this fight, and dragon, on your own terms. Even if it means siding along with the kingdom who would condemn your kind without mercy.

Warnings: Mention about decapitation. 

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Lotura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

A/N: It’s a medieval-ish AU with dragons. What more could you want?

1 . 2 .

-

[There’s an old saying among renegade sea folk: The pirate that counts their booty are mere thieves. 

War and death have pillaged the water and dirt of the planet for centuries, costing innocent lives from both sides. It was easy to paint the enemy as the enemy, as the one who needs to die before their sword cuts down your soul. It was easy to defend what you righteously believed needs to be defended, whether that be gold or the treasures that come with family and friends. It was easy to embrace that the laws of the sea were, at best, just rumors among the free people. 

And such laws, such rules whispered by the dead man, don’t apply to the mystical wildlife. They don’t apply to creatures who have no loyalty, who have no other moral besides kill and eat for survival. From the trolls of the mountains, to the mermaids of the sea, to the fae of the forests, to the very dragons who control elements with ferocity matching the epitome of death itself, it would do well to remember that a set of fangs have no set order to kill. 

But while beasts and monsters roam, and kingdoms rise and fall to the tests of time, and legends become lingering myths by the breath of the wind, it is the folly of prideful ignorance which murders countless more than the culmination of every bloodthirsty demon known in existence. With that in mind, tread carefully around those you would call allies or friends or like-minded folks. The Codex of Life may preach all-for-one and one-for-all, but deep down, it is a beautifully written lie for the over-eager martyrs. 

Do not fall for such false speech regarding the dichotomy of good and evil. 

Severing a hydra’s head will not kill it. Mana spells are useless against the naga’s of the Ice Plateaus. Beware of the volcano whose smoke takes form of two lovers, for no weapon or mantra can quell their rage should you cross them on a full moon. This collection of knowledge will help spread death, strike fear and hope in the hearts of many, and I leave this to you, my child. 

You will have no legacy to follow. You are the bastard child I left behind to reach that unreachable freedom. You will make your own name amongst the farthest edges of the sea with every gale that blesses your sails. 

You are a pirate.]

Closing the leather-bound journal, you skimmed your thumb over the pressed design of crossbones and cutlass’ on the cover. A legacy forgotten and one you would never know about? Dead men tell no tales, indeed. But regardless, this book would help with the bounty you were debating on facing. The paper was flimsy, hastily ripped off the pole to save for later, but the words were clear as day. And if you were able to complete this task, pocket enough shiny coin to support your entire crew with all the rum and pleasure they could want for years on end, leave behind your own legend, then that’d be enough for you. 

“Seeking Dragonslayers of all kind! Report to Altea, Blessed Kingdom of Oriande!”

Then, hastily scribbled at the bottom.

“Speak to Paladin Takashi of the Black Mane Guild.”

Hefting yourself from your seat, you downed the rest of your mug reeking of ale and moist wood. The jovial band played, the patrons danced, the entire room was filled with fighting life, and it was impossible to not let it flow through you. It felt wrong to hold such a book in this place, the taboo writings from death’s bleeding quill. And so, with a tip of your hat and a silver doubloon for the ever so diligent barkeep, you stumbled out into the chill of the night with nothing but your guns, your sword, and the magical warmth of ale to keep you steadfast and eager towards your freedom. 

But freedom always came with a cost and you paid a leg to chase it. 

When you passed through the heavily fortified gates of Altea, shimmering in that pristine metal forged only by the elves of old, nothing came as a surprise. This place, this kingdom, the people here, were rich with elegance and practically congested in an air of royalty. Prim and proper. Clean, lethal, and ready to strike while looking mystical by default. Alteans, they called themselves. A long generation of the ancient Elven deities, granted with the dwindling power of magic. 

The book states they do not share their secrets with outsiders. Not even to those stupidly loyal to them. 

Imagine the raised brow of confusion when you saw their captain, that Takashi fellow, was a werewolf. So far from his pack, this one. Though, it made sense. Ferocious, fierce, werewolves were not meant to be trifled with, full moon or no. The loyalty of the wolf combined with the logical reasoning of man? Smart. Now, the real question was where did his allegiance lie? 

“Paladin Takashi, I presume?”

Grey eyes, like the foggiest of winter nights, met yours and you saw him size you up with but a flash. Not lecherously, no, more like how a soldier would assess a fight, a situation, a potential ally or enemy. With amusement glistening in YOUR eyes, you found that he couldn’t pinpoint you down. A pirate on land? Joining the fight for a good cause? Yes, yes, you heard it all before. Walking ironies were always meant to be suspicious. 

But pirates had charm and you knew when to use it. 

With a flourished bow, both exaggerating in mock and respect, you spoke through a grin, “Allow me to introduce meself, ser. I be known as Peg-Leg the Kegmaster, cannon crafter and duelist extraordinaire of The Mermaid’s Doom, here at yer service.”

 “A pirate?”

“Aye, a pirate, and if ye gunna be needin’ a slayed dragon, then yer gunna be needin’ what I have’ta offer.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised the guards didn’t detain you at first sight. But, desperate times call for desperate measures,” he replied freely, not at all with a judgmental tone but one of legitimate concern for you, for a stranger.

“An’ I be the perfect one fer those desperate times, mate.”

You placed the bounty parchment on the table in front of him then slid into the seat, onlookers tending to their own business. Coming here, to the central command of the vigilant army, there were all sorts of different kinds of folks around. Some wielding spears and donning turtle shells on their backs, others like Shiro with ears and tails and even fangs of werewolves, feathered harpies whose talons looked lethal enough to kill a shark, and even dwarves armored with fine metal from top to bottom. 

A ragtag group of people, all coming together to fight one monster which has been blighting their landlubbing surface for who knows how long. An honorable cause, but as they say, there’s no honor amongst thieves. That’s why proving yourself right now would be pivotal to your aligned goals. 

“By order of Her Majesty, Princess Allura, I have been bestowed the task of ridding the quintessence raged dragon of the north. Because of this, we can not allow magic-wielders to join our group. I know Peg is not your real name - “ you grinned cheekily, not at all affected by the admonishing tone in the truth, “ - but if you use quintessence to fight, I’m afraid you’re of no use to us on the frontline.”

“Nay, I t’aint one for hocus-pocus witchcraft. You start mutterin’ curses and voodoo gobbledee gook, I scatter like-a flock o’ gulls fleeing from the slimy tentacles of kraken itself.” With a nod to the paper, you continued, “If I were to be speakin’ the truth, matey, I’m here fer the gold. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything to do with yer kingdoms rubbin’ elbows with ya fancy silks are of no concern to me.”

Shiro leaned back, arms crossed, then tilted his head just a bit, not at all unlike a puppy trying to understand some strange phenomenon. He wasn’t a fresh soldier from the pack. Battle scars under his fur showed that this isn’t the first time he’s faced a foe bigger than himself. It was only by his strong connection with his righteous virtues and a debt owed to Altea, more specifically Honerva, that he was appointed captain of this draconic crusade. 

But his trust in his instincts were always on point. That made him invaluable and right now? With watching you smile that smarmy smile, his instincts told him that, yes, you were good. Rogues were a recipe for trouble, add that with the lot of pirates, and you get chaos. An ace up the sleeve, a random boon that benefits all based on the law of uncertainty. Shiro would take a draw rather than a loss any day. 

And he’s dealt with pirates before. Closely, in fact. 

The Paladin rubbed his chin with his prosthetic arm, the smooth surface of quintessence run mechanism offering a small calm for his thoughts. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“The wind in the sails took ‘em to the sea. I chose t’stay. ‘Tis only a matter of time before this dragon o’ yers starts roosting in other lands and I ain’t one for facing more monsters below and above the waves,” your voice trailed off for a moment before your eyes snapped from his arm to his face, “Nor am I lookin’ to be noosed by yer masters. If this alliance can not be, I’ll be on me merry way an’ ye won’t need ‘ta worry about one more pirate on your plate.”

But he was no fool. Word of the growing stress between kingdoms reached even overseas in the last decade. News about the alliance between Altea and Daibazaal falling out with King Alfor’s death, or rather, “assassination.” It was rumored that the Galra leaders unleashed an ancient dragon, created of pure quintessence, to attack the Elven empire and cripple the nation. After the destruction which nearly annihilated the royal family, it fled to the Kral Zera holy lands, never to be seen again. 

Until now. Shiro repeatedly told himself that perhaps this was just a dead end, a fairy tale told to keep kids safe and sound inside. A story meant to induce fear that the evil dragon can sense wrongdoings and will come eat you to gain more power. All leads he followed led to different answers, and this may be an unaccomplished quest in the end, but if that were the case, then he will serve to protect the innocent at the highest cost. 

“The Black Mane work with several nations, not just one. If you can prove to be useful, be battle ready when needed, and are willing to help all, then consider yourself part of the pact,” he pulled out a folded paper from his pouch then slid it to you, “It’s a contract, rules to be followed while commissioned by the guild.”

“Yer giving me a set o’ rules?”

Now, this is where he let slip a grin hiding familiar mischief, “They’re more like guidelines should you choose to follow them, for your safety and the successful completion of this quest.” 

“Tell me something, cap’n,” you asked, eyes reading but mindful of his attention, “Have ye ever broken one o’ them rules of yers?”

“Yes.” Straight answer with a tone of finality, a tone of that is all I’m saying on the matter.

You signed across the line, temporarily giving your time and life over to this noble cause, “Then do we have an accord?”

Shiro shook hands with pirates before. He’s taken more hands before, too. But what most people would suspiciously think about making deals with pirates were wrong. Honor and loyalty weren’t definitions they followed by their very soul, not like he did, yet as he firmly grasped your offered hand in agreement, his instincts told him one jarring fact.

This deal was empty, but oddly promising. 

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 3: Meet the Crew

The submarine’s grey steel walls, despite their immense size, felt claustrophobic and oppressive to Nami as Law led her towards the galley. Each step resulted in an echoing clank, the portholes peered out into the dark ocean, and the bright overhead lights felt artificial and stifling. It was nothing like the Thousand Sunny’s cheery design, with wide windows letting in sunlight, comfortingly creaking wooden floors, and lamps that gave off a warm glow.

Her discomfort wasn’t helped by the fact that Law’s rough hand was still on her back, despite her not-so-subtle attempts to dislodge it. It should have been easy; his palm was simply resting between her shoulder blades, not even gripping her, yet every time she shifted, squirmed, or tried to shake him off, he matched her movements precisely so he never lost contact for more than a second. It was almost irrational how much it bothered her. It was just a hand, but the way he’d gone from touching her no more than was professionally required to lingering physical contact had completely thrown her for a loop, and she didn’t like it. She prided herself for being able to read people and get a handle on anyone’s intentions, but the surgeon’s erratic shifts kept her guessing.

On top of that, his hand was just so warm. The heat seemed to seep into her spine and travel through her nervous system, flooding her with awareness of just how close he was. She was beginning to notice other things, too—the sharp tang of whatever soap he used, the fact that he was a full head taller than her despite her heels, the sharp lines of his profile, the way the gold hoops in his ears caught the light…

It was all very distracting, and Nami had to force herself to face forward so he wouldn’t catch her staring.

Calm and collected as anything, Law strolled through the hall at a leisurely pace, explaining, “My crew is twenty-strong—twenty-one if we include you—and they’ll all be eager to show you the ropes. They’re a lively bunch, and admirably loyal, so I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.”

“Hm,” she replied, tensing further at the number. Twenty men under the command of a dangerous Supernova sounded horrible. Sure, it wasn’t a massive number—Arlong’s crew had been larger than that—but she had no idea what kind of powers they had, their temperament, or what they’d think of sailing with a woman from a rival crew. Words like “lively” and “loyal” weren’t as comforting as he might think, either. Blackbeard was pretty lively, and his crew was certainly loyal to him—that didn’t make them any less a group of vicious monsters responsible for Whitebeard and Ace’s deaths.

Though they probably weren’t as bad as those bastards, the Heart Pirates still willingly followed a sadistic madman with his own list of sins. At Law’s command they killed, raided ships and islands, sold human organs on the black market, and more. For all she knew they would cheer him on if the surgeon decided to slice her to bits for his own amusement. On top of that, twenty men who spent their days at sea, stuck in close quarters with little female company might have…urges.

Swallowing hard, she refused to think like that; she and the Surgeon of Death had agreed to work together, and sexual services were definitely not part of the deal. Still, it was hard not to assume the worst—in the past she’d had the displeasure of witnessing a pirate crew mistreating female prisoners. It had been one of the very few times she’d been grateful to be part of the Fishman Pirates, as none of them even considered using her in such a manner, and Arlong had refused to prostitute her, despite his criminal contacts’ numerous suggestions once she started developing her womanly figure. Nami’s heart quickened as she vividly remembered the way the saw-nosed shark had ripped apart a crime lord who had insinuated she was the crew’s sex slave.

Crimson blood, hot and sticky, dripped from Arlong’s hand as the man’s mangled corpse collapsed at his feet, his skull brutally crushed by the Fishman’s monstrous strength.

“Wh—why did you do that?” she asked, trembling slightly. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever seen her captain do, but such a violent explosion of temper was rare. She wasn’t upset that the crime lord was dead; even at fourteen she knew what his leers and innuendos had meant. It was just…startling.

Turning towards his cartographer, Arlong gave her a sharp-toothed grin. “You didn’t think I’d let that scum disrespect you like that, did you?” With a strange gentleness, he patted her head like a kitten, chuckling when her orange hair stuck to the splotches of blood. “You may be part of an inferior species, but you’re my talented cartographer—not some whore to be passed around. I’ve seen the way men look at you, and I can promise, I’ll kill anyone who thinks about touching you.”

She swallowed hard. “Anyone?”

His piercing eyes gleamed as he playfully patted her cheek just hard enough to sting, the stench of blood making Nami’s stomach churn in disgust. “Of course! You’ve got a whole world’s worth of ocean charts to draw. I can’t let you get distracted by a lover. He might get some foolish idea about taking you away, and then who would raise the money to buy your village?” His grin was cruel and cheerful as he spoke, his voice amiable as he insistently led her back to her chart room. “I’m just looking out for your best interests. After all, we’re shipmates.”

Likely feeling just how taut her back muscles had become, Law’s molten palm retreated slightly, fingers instead rubbing small circles against her spine. “I don’t blame you for being distrustful, but you have nothing to fear from my men; for the next year, you’re one of us, remember?”

Fists clenched at her sides at his words, polished nails digging into her palms. “We may be working together, but I’m still a Straw Hat, so don’t get all chummy,” she replied tersely.

“I’ll tolerate that answer for now, Nami-ya, but I’m expecting a change in tone once you’ve settled in. We have a deal—”

Her voice was pure sass as she stated, “Pretty sure my exact words were ‘I work with your crew for one year; not a day more.’ I never said anything about actually joining the Heart Pirates.”

Upon realizing she spoke the truth, he scowled. “Sneaky minx,” he grumbled, halting their progress so he could grab her chin, lifting it so she had no choice but to meet his arctic stare. “Then let’s clarify things; you work with my crew and for me. Even if you don’t call us shipmates, it’s in your best interest to banish any thoughts of betrayal or manipulation. If I think you’re plotting against me and mine, I’ll deliver you to the nearest Marine base in pieces. Your bounty’s not much, and you’re more useful to me as a partner than a prisoner, but I won’t hesitate if you bring any harm to my crew. Are we clear?”

Pulse thundering in her ears, she swallowed harshly. His tone had been even and soft, but those eyes promised unimaginable pain should she cross him. “Crystal.”

Releasing her chin, he resumed leading her down the hall. “Good. That being said, so long as you cooperate, you can count on our protection. We look after our own here, and whether you like it or not, they’ll probably see you as one of us quickly enough.”

But I don’t want to be one of you, she thought sourly. What right did Law even have to call her part of his crew? Luffy’d had to earn that loyalty by defeating the terror of the East Blue and saving her village. Then again, he’d declared her his nakama long before she’d officially joined, despite her protestations. It was startling to think that he and Law had anything in common personality-wise, but perhaps that blind stubbornness was a necessary trait for a Supernova.

Arriving at the galley, Nami knew she had no choice but to put on a brave face and hope she could worm her way out of trouble. Stomach twisting, she could easily imagine a band of gruff, ugly men in identical jumpsuits leering at her like she was a piece of meat ready to be devoured. Her feet itched to run away, but the hand on her back made it clear there was no way to go but forward. Taking a deep breath, the navigator braced herself for whatever monsters she was about to encounter as Law opened the steel door.

The pair froze as they entered the mess hall, gob smacked at the huge, hanging banner proclaiming “Welcome Cat Thief Nami!” in bold, orange letters, cute little cartoon cats drawn in each corner. Sparkly streamers dangled from the ceiling while black and yellow balloons floated about the room. Colorful confetti fluttered through the air as the whole crew struck elaborate poses. Some stood on tables, others were sprawled across the floor, and one was even hanging upside down from a ceiling lamp.

“Welcome to the crew!” they shouted in unison, ecstatic grins splitting their cheerful faces.

Law facepalmed. “They always go overboard,” he muttered, though there was an undertone of begrudging affection in his voice.

“When did they even have time to plan this?” Nami asked, utterly flabbergasted at the joyous, energetic greeting. It felt like something Luffy and Franky would set up, not the murderous followers of the Surgeon of Death. Really, they seemed less like pirates and more like a band of goofy dorks. It was…kind of a relief, if she were honest. She could feel the cold dread from before dissolving, gradually being replaced by mild amusement. “Lively” was definitely an apt word for them.

“I’m guessing during your check-up. Word of you joining traveled fast. Not every day we get a defector from another crew.”

She glared at him. “I’m not—”

Ignoring her anger, he slung a lanky arm around her shoulders. “Everyone, though you clearly already know, I’d like to formally introduce you to Nami-ya. She’ll be sailing with us for the next year, so you should all start keeping a closer eye on your wallets.”

The thief continued to scowl at the captain, who merely glanced down at her with a smug smirk.

All at once, his crew began shouting.

“This is awesome!”

“Why’s she only with us for a year?”

“Thank the gods, we’ve finally got a woman aboard!”

“Oi, what am I, chopped liver?!” an angry, feminine voice responded.

“Man, Captain got the Cat Thief Nami to join our crew! Talk about amazing!”

“That’s Captain Law for you!”

“Think she’ll sign her wanted poster for me?”

“Is she single?!”

Mentally rolling her eyes at that last question, Nami shrugged off Law’s arm and gave them all her most charming grin, clasping her hands together in a way she knew artfully enhanced her cleavage. Their joyful greeting made her feel less wary, and she decided to test the waters with her feminine wiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all! Please take care of me,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes demurely.

Instantly, she could see several of the men blush and swoon, a few muttering about how pretty she was. One even had hearts in his eyes, and it reminded her so much of Sanji her chest clenched. Annoying as the cook’s fawning could sometimes be, it was also something she’d come to find comfortably familiar, and she knew the affection was genuine—as it was with every woman he laid eyes on.

Two years, she reminded herself. I’ll see them all again in just two years.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned for find Law slowly shaking his head. “It’s like Amazon Lily all over again,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Nami cocked her eyebrow at that. Of course she’d heard of Amazon Lily; it was one of the few charted islands in the Calm Belt, the home of the infamous Pirate Empress, and, admittedly, a place she’d once imagined running away to as a little girl. Belle-mere fascinated her and Nojiko with tales of the women-only island, sometimes even joining in their games when they’d pretended to be those fierce and beautiful warriors. After her death, it had seemed like a good place to escape the Fishmen, but the knowledge that Cocoyashi would suffer for the young navigator’s selfishness had quickly halted such thoughts.

The implication that the Heart Pirates had actually been to the island and lived definitely caught her interest, though. From what she’d heard about Boa Handcock, the shikibukai would never allow a man to so much as set foot on the beach. Even the Marines were said to only send female officers to deliver orders and negotiations.

Feeling her gaze, Law’s gold eyes flicked to her face, a lazy, confident grin once again settling on his lips. “Let’s sit you down and get you acclimated, Nami-ya.”

The mess hall was a decent size, with a large, rectangular table in the middle surrounded by four smaller round ones. All the furniture was metal, probably to avoid decay from the damp conditions, but the chairs sported black and yellow vinyl padding. At the head of the main table was a more elaborate seat, clearly the captain’s, the arms, back, and seat upholstered in black, studded leather. In the back was a shiny, chrome kitchen, the oven, refrigerator, and other appliances gleaming. Sitting prominently on the counter was a frankly enormous coffee machine, and Nami got the feeling it was the most-revered appliance in the room.

A large, white bear immediately rushed over to the offer her the spot to the left of the captain’s chair. Despite his intimidating size, his black button eyes, round, twitching ears, and bright orange jumpsuit made him look more like a giant stuffed animal than a dangerous arctic predator. He stuck out a huge, fuzzy paw, giving a shy smile. “My name’s Bepo; I’m the ship’s navigator.”

The orange-haired thief stared in shock. “A talking polar bear?”

“I’m sorry,” he said gloomily, hanging his head.

“Wha—no! I mean, it’s nice to meet you, Bepo!” Quickly, she grabbed his paw, shaking it firmly, careful to avoid scratching herself on his long claws. So easily defeated! Nami thought, a drop of sweat dripping down her brow. “I’m the navigator on my ship, so I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about!”

He perked up a bit at that, taking the seat next to hers. “I’d like that. If you’re really staying a while, maybe I can show you the equipment we use for underwater surveillance. That is, if the captain is okay with it,” he said, nervously looking at Law as he twiddled his claws.

He waved his hand carelessly as he reclined in his chair. “I promised she’d get to study underwater currents, so consider it an order.”

Thrilled that he had permission, the bear grinned at Nami. “Then I’ll teach you to use it once you’re settled in.”

“Hey, quit hogging her, Bepo!” a man with “Penguin” printed across his hat scolded, sitting across from them. As if the word wasn’t enough, there was even what looked like a little plush penguin sewn on top of the hat, almost like a pom-pom.

“Yeah!” said the guy with ginger hair and a floppy pink and green hat. The sleeves of his jumpsuit were rolled up, revealing some scrollwork on his wrists, plus cross tattoos identical to Law’s. “The rest of us want to meet her, too.”

“I’m sorry.”

The first man grinned brightly at Nami. “I’m Penguin, and this is Shachi. I’m the first mate, so if you need anything, come right to me.”

“And I’m the second mate! I know this ship like the back of my hand, so if you’re looking for something, I’m your man!” said Shachi eagerly.

“She’d ask for my help before yours!”

“Like hell she would!”

The argument was quickly settled when a dark-haired woman marched up behind them, smacking them both upside the head. “Shut up, both of you!” she snapped, glaring down at the pair. “You keep bothering her and I’ll make sure you both wake up with ‘idiot’ tattooed across your foreheads.”

“Sorry, Ikkaku,” they grumbled.

Pleased at their submission, she gave Nami a winning smile. “Knowing the Captain, I’m guessing we’re going to be bunkmates, so it’s nice to meet you, Nami! I’m sure we’re going to get along great!”

Instantly, Nami knew she liked Ikkaku. Aside from being able to appreciate how the curly-haired woman managed to look stunning in that normally ugly boiler suit, so far, she was a kindred spirit; ready, willing, and able to smack some sense into the men around her. “The pleasure’s all mine. It’s good to know there’s an island or two of sanity in this sea of testosterone.”

“Ha! Feel free to join me and Bepo in the Don’t Lose It Over A Pretty Face Club. Captain’s a member, too, so you’re in good company.”

Nami was proud of herself for not wincing at the thought of being in any sort of club with the Surgeon of Death. “Are there regular meetings, or do we just sit in the corner and judge the guys whenever they talk about women?”

Letting out a boisterous laugh, Ikkaku winked. “Mostly judging at bars, but I wouldn’t say no to weekly sessions, especially if a bottle of wine’s involved.”

“Then count me in.”

As they spoke, a few of the crew set about serving the evening’s meal. The savory smell of stew tickled her nose, and her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since mid-morning. Blowing gently on the spoon before taking a tentative sip, she could admit it was good and hearty, but paled in comparison to Sanji’s cooking. It was amazing just how easily she could pick out the differences; he probably would have added more black pepper and gone easier on the garlic, plus added a half-cup of red wine to the broth for extra body.

Memories of the love-sick cook’s specially prepared dishes, full of nutrients and flavor and designed to not let a single scrap of food go to waste, danced across her mind. She suddenly missed the evening meals with her crew, hectic as they were; watching Zoro and Sanji’s offhanded jibes evolve into an all-out fight, guarding her plate from Luffy’s greedy hands, listening to Franky argue with Chopper that Cola was perfectly nutritious while Brooke and Robin quietly observed the chaos with amusement.

“Is it not to your taste?” a man with a bandana around the bottom half of his face asked.

Startled from her thoughts, she realized she’d been frowning at the bowl. Her time in Luffy’s crew really had changed her; she used to be so much harder to read. “Oh! No, it’s fine! Sorry, I was…thinking of something else.” Eyes darting around, her gaze landed on a basket of rolls. “Could you pass me those? Stew’s just not the same without some bread to dip in it,” she said, plastering on a disarming smile.

“Here,” Shachi said, quickly passing her the basket. “Just keep them away from the captain.”

Glancing at him in confusion, she could have laughed at the way Law’s face twisted in disgust. “I hate bread,” he grumbled, glaring at the rolls as if they were personally responsible for every disease, war, and disaster the world had ever faced.

A tiny giggle did escape her lips. Who would have thought the big, bad Supernova could be so childish? Honestly, how could someone hate bread?

Noticing her expression, the captain gave her an annoyed look. “What? Are you saying there aren’t any foods you find absolutely repulsive, Nami-ya?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I’m not a fan of orangettes. If I wanted fruit, I’d just eat plain fruit.”

A devious smirk lifted the corners of his lips. “Good to know.”

“Careful; Captain’s pretty mean when it comes to punishments,” Bepo whispered softly in her ear. “If you piss him off, you might find yourself only eating orangettes for a week.”

Unpleasant as that prospect sounded, she was mostly surprised that he wasn’t more inclined to dismemberment as a form of discipline. Maybe he just didn’t want to risk his crew losing efficiency due to being in pieces. Or maybe it was hard to stay mad at a bunch of goofballs like them.

Amazingly, dinner continued to go smoothly. Not a single person gave her untoward looks or so much as hinted that they planned to harm or mistreat her. Shachi and Penguin made an embarrassing spectacle of themselves with their clumsy attempts to flirt, while Ikkaku loudly mocked them from her own table. Bepo told her more about the ship’s state-of-the-art navigational equipment, Nami listening with rapt attention as she imagined all the charts she’d be able to draw. Around her, the crew chatted and joked and shared stories of their adventures, more than a few of them ending with Law saving the day with one of his brilliant plans and incredible powers. Oddly, the thief didn’t get the impression that they were just trying to talk up their captain—the praise seemed genuine. The Dark Doctor, for his part, ate quietly, adding in the occasional comment or correction, but otherwise was a pillar of calm among his rambunctious crew. A ghost of a smile even tugged at his lips a few times, and she wouldn’t lie and say that the way his features had softened didn’t make him look a little less creepy.

Towards the end of the meal, a ridiculously large man approached, and Nami was honestly surprised anyone could have made a jumpsuit in his size. She was more impressed by the fact that, despite being twice Law’s height and wider than two Frankys, she’d barely even noticed him, as he’d been sitting quietly in the back of the mess hall. “Nami-san, my name’s Jean Bart.”

Recognition dawned on her, the man’s forehead tattoos and wild hair finally lining up in her memory. “Wait, you were one of the Celestial Dragons’ slaves, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. The Captain here freed me and took me on as his helmsman.”

Law gave a shrug as he took another bite of stew, once more indifferent to his subordinates’ praise. “I told you, half the credit goes to Mugiwara-ya.”

“That it does,” he wholeheartedly agreed. “None of it would have happened if Straw Hat hadn’t been gutsy enough to punch Saint Charlos and cause all that chaos at the auction house. I wanted to make sure you knew that you can count on me to keep you safe, Nami-san. It’s the least I can do to repay him,” the big man said with a deep, respectful bow.

The thief had to smile. Once again, that idiot makes a friend in the strangest way, she thought fondly. “I appreciate it, and when I see him, I’ll pass your thanks on to Luffy.” The man might have the face of a thug, but if he owed a debt to her captain, she was willing to put a little bit of faith in Jean Bart’s promise. The pleased smile he gave further reassured her of his good intentions.

Really, Nami had to admit she was beginning to enjoy herself. As much as their energy and enthusiasm threw her off guard and made her miss her nakama, they were clearly doing their best to make her feel welcome. Sure, it could all be some elaborate setup, but what would be the point? If they held ill intentions, she was basically trapped underwater with them, leaving no reason to play nice. Either they were planning some really long con, or they were as sweet and goofy as they appeared.

As dinner started to wind down, the beautiful navigator let out a startled shriek as the room was engulfed in a strange blue light, her empty bowl vanishing before her eyes, a wet cleaning rag falling before her with a splat. The Heart Pirates, particularly the captain, seemed amused by her reaction.

“Damn, Law, you should warn the poor girl before you show off your powers!” Penguin sniggered.

“And you could have put our bowls in the sink, too, while you were at it,” Shachi added jokingly.

The surgeon merely smirked. “What, and deny her the traditional Heart Pirate initiation?”

Bepo turned to the bemused woman between them, who was frantically looking around, trying to figure out what had just happened. “Captain always likes to scare new recruits with his powers. You’re lucky he switching it with a dishrag—the last guy got his coffee switched with a still-moving hand.”

Recalling Law’s explanation in the infirmary, she nodded in understanding, even as she shuddered at the image. “So, is my ‘initiation’ over with, or should I brace myself for worse?” she asked suspiciously.

The Dark Doctor’s grin widened, a mischievous gleam in his amber eyes. “Where’s the fun in telling?” Getting up from his seat, he held a hand out to Nami. “I’ll escort you to your quarters.”

A chorus of disappointed comments filled the room as she waved him off. “I’m sure one of your crew can do it. You’ve spent enough time playing tour guide today.”

“They could, but they’re all going to be a bit busy cleaning up the damn confetti they blasted all over the galley,” he said, giving the group a stern look. “And god help you all if I find even a crumb of bread on my end of the table.”

“Yes, Captain,” they replied sadly.

Realizing she’d get no rescue from her fate, Nami stood up with a sigh, ignoring Law’s extended hand. Admittedly, she was a bit more comfortable with the man after seeing him interact with his crew. Yes, he was certainly still a sadist and undeniably creepy, but his men clearly adored him, and she suspected he returned that affection in his own, more subtle way—kind of like how Zoro treated Luffy.

That didn’t mean she was going to let him have his way so easily. He still wasn’t her captain, and even Luffy knew not to try and boss her around. “Fine, but if you pull anything else in the name of ‘initiation,’ I’m charging you for the emotional distress.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Nami-ya?”

“I never needed one—Luffy’s was enough for the whole crew.”

“Fair enough, but out of curiosity, how much would you charge me if I, say, started juggling severed heads in front of you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile. “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”

“Hey, Nami, once I’m finished here, we’ll see about getting you some clothes,” Ikkaku called out, looking quite entertained at the way the navigator sassed her captain. “I’ve at least got a nightshirt or two you can borrow.”

Giving a nod of thanks and a wave goodbye to the rest of the crew, she strolled out of the galley, full of food and infinitely more relaxed as the men bid her a good night. They were definitely not what she’d anticipated. Part of her felt she shouldn’t be surprised; nothing had been turning out as expected that day. Why should her assumption that the Heart Pirates were a bunch of vicious psychopaths ready to watch her be raped and mutilated be correct?

Mostly, she was relieved. For the most part, they seemed like decent people, despite being pirates. The upcoming year was beginning to look a bit less daunting.

“Didn’t I say they’d take to you quickly?” Law asked, unable to keep the self-satisfied amusement out of his voice. This time, he didn’t lead her around, hands instead shoved deeply into his jean pockets as he strolled along beside her.

Maybe she was just tired, but his smirk wasn’t as infuriating as it was earlier. “Well, you’d know your crew better than I would,” she conceded with a slight shrug. “They’re certainly as lively and loyal as you promised.”

“It’s exhausting sometimes, but I couldn’t ask for a better team. They’re suckers for a pretty face, so I expect at least half of them are already wrapped around your little finger.”

Nami sniggered. “Only half? I’m out of practice, then.”

“Just do me a favor and let them down easy; some of them get mopey when they’re rejected.”

“Does that include yourself?” she teased. An hour ago, she wouldn’t have even considered making such a joke, but she wanted to get some sort of read on him, especially in regards to her. The man was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and she needed to know how to navigate the so far unpredictable waters of his personality.

His smirk morphed into a sultry grin, amber eyes nearly glowing in the artificial light. “No, mainly because I don’t rush in like an idiot after every pretty face I see. When I’m truly interested in a woman, I assess the situation, devise a plan, and take my time making her want me.”

The low, husky timbre of his voice mixed with his smoky, hooded gaze made a faint blush rise to her cheeks. Something inside made her absolutely believe the man had the patience and skills to do precisely what he said. A vision of Law caging her against the wall, whispering promises of dark pleasure in her ear while his hands danced across her exposed skin popped into the forefront of her mind. Nami forced it back, though; whether or not he was referring to her, she wouldn’t take the bait. For the next year, this man was supposed to be her ally, and after that, her enemy. Getting involved, physically or emotionally, would only complicate matters.

So instead of acknowledging the spike of heat that shot between her legs or the way her pulse quickened, she replied breezily, “Well, at least I won’t walk in on you sobbing into a tub of ice cream, moaning about a broken heart. By the way, what are my actual duties?”

He seemed more amused at her description than annoyed at her casual brush-off. “Oh, I plan on keeping you busy. Off-ship, I’ll bring you along for the occasional con or burglary. Maybe you can help me negotiate better prices for my wares. While we’re at sea, you’ll have a fair share of chores and help navigate the ship, particularly when we’re above water. I also hear you can sense when a storm or natural calamity is coming, so of course you’ll be our early warning system. Most of all, I want you to help Bepo with his map-making skills. He’s a fine navigator, and his understanding of sea charts is excellent, but he’s not as skilled with more traditional, land-focused maps.”

Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, she nodded. “Fair enough, although first you’re going to have to apologize.”

“For what?”

An orange eyebrow arched high. “Mocking me earlier. A reindeer doctor is crazy, but a polar bear navigator isn’t?”

“Bepo’s more than just a bear—he’s a Mink. Also, I can’t imagine any creature with hooves instead of hands performing a medical examination.”

“Well, Chopper does a damn good job—”

“Chopper? Isn’t that your ship’s pet?”

“The wanted poster’s misleading. He’s a brilliant doctor trained by Dr. Kureha herself.”

“You’re telling me Dr. Kureha trained a Tanuki?”

“He’s a reindeer!” she insisted, hands fisting on her hips.

He snorted in disbelief. “I’m from the North Blue. I’ve seen reindeer. That’s a Tanuki.”

“He’ll tell you himself that he’s a reindeer!”

“A talking Tanuki will tell me he’s a reindeer? Now I know you’re crazy.”

She wanted to scream in frustration, but the gleam in his eye kept her from giving into the urge. That, and the shocking realization that the Surgeon of Death was messing with her. Whether or not he really believed Chopper was a Tanuki, he was only pushing the matter because he thought pissing her off was funny.

Upon arriving at the women’s quarters, he leaned against the doorframe, once more smirking lazily. “So, do you have any other questions for me?”

Several, but none that matter right now, she thought. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Then I’ll leave you to get some rest. If you need anything, Ikkaku should be able to help, and my quarters are just down the hall. Do your best to get a good night’s rest—I plan on making the most of having the Cat Thief on my crew.” He chuckled then, reaching forward to pluck a small piece of sparkly confetti from her mikan locks. A shiver rocked through her when his warm fingertips brushed her sensitive scalp and ear. “Sweet dreams, Nami-ya.”

Uncomfortable with how effortlessly he made her body react, she darted into her room, barely managing to hold herself back from slamming the door in his face.

Forcing her breathing to slow, she scanned the room. It was spartan but not oppressively so. Each side had a bed raised high enough to fit a dresser underneath, a small metal desk set at the foot of each. Between the beds was a small vanity with some basic makeup strewn about, the rectangular mirror simple but large enough for two people to share.

It was easy to tell Ikkaku’s was the left side; engine manuals and sketchbooks were piled on her desk, along with a toolbox that hadn’t been fully closed. The bed was a bit messy, the pale green comforter slightly wrinkled, as if it were thrown together in a hurry for the sake of neatening up for company. Above it was a poster with an assortment of designs and symbols, much like what one would find in a tattoo parlor.

On the right side of the room, someone had taken the time to make up Nami’s bed with a sunny yellow comforter, the white sheets beneath tucked in with sharp hospital corners. On top of the pillow was a little paper card proclaiming “Welcome, Nami!” with the ship’s Jolly Roger stamped on the bottom right corner. The desk and bureau were bare, and it struck her just how little she had to her name right now. Her clothes, books, equipment, maps, and treasure were all on board the Sunny, and she could only hope they weren’t ruined or stolen when she got back.

Hoisting herself onto the cot, Nami pulled her knees to her chest and let out a deep sigh. What should have been a simple settling of a debt had become so much more complicated. She couldn’t get a clear read on Law. The crew was disarmingly friendly. The ship wasn’t home, but it didn’t feel like a prison, either. Most troubling was that, despite her head constantly reminding her that the Dark Doctor was dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted, he still managed to invoke hot, physical reactions with little more than a slight touch.

She was just…confused, and she doubted that was going to change anytime soon.

[sparklyjojos]

THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [10/13]

In which we meet a young wordician and the detectives finally stumble upon a breakthrough in the case.

--

PART 7

Three days before August 19th, a few other detectives from Nihon Tantei Club propose they can help with the Saimon Family Case. Ajiro might take them on their word if the next incident doesn’t clear anything up. However, he’s afraid to mix anyone else into this, seeing as a single case stretching for so long is already pulling their attention away from other cases.

In fact, Ajiro reveals to everyone that he’s considering withdrawing from the Club entirely; he’s grateful to everyone who would hate to see him go (especially tearful Kirigirisu), but he still has his pride as a detective. If no progress in the case is made soon, he will be forced to make that decision. Two young detectives, Raiouji and Mikuruma, outright declare that they will quit too if push comes to shove.

Three days later Ajiro and Kirigirisu are faced with a new incident in the Saimon Family Case when Kyuuzou dies from a hornet sting.

On the same day, Raiouji and Mikuruma are killed when a reckless truck driver hits them on their usual bike ride.

As soon as they get the news, Ajiro and Kirigirisu stop their investigation in Tsuwano and return to Kyoto to learn more about what happened. Witnesses testify that the truck driver (who also died in the crash) didn’t even attempt to brake before hitting the two young detectives. The police finds stimulant drugs in the truck’s cabin, states that the man was probably using them, and files the case away as a normal traffic accident.

Raiouji’s and Mikuruma’s joint funeral ceremony is held a day after Fujita Kyuuzou’s wake, and unexpectedly a few Saimons decide to go to Kyoto to attend it: Soga Tensui with Miku, Taishi with his wife Yurine, Hyousen with his son Hyousai, a few members of Fujita-gumi, even shy Takayoshi.

Miku says that they wanted to bring Juku along at first, but decided against it, as him wearing sunglasses throughout the entire ceremony could be seen as rude by other people. It’s still unknown just what made the boy so strangely beautiful after his brother’s death.

(Kirigirisu has had some very outlandish theories about it come to his mind. If we define the twins’ previous beauty as being “90% perfect” for each one, then maybe after one died, the other one now somehow counted for two, and the accumulated value tipped over the point of “100% perfection”… This sort of ridiculous theories. Kirigirisu has no idea why he even thought about it.)

As they talk with the family, Hyousen mentions that he saw Ajiro’s grandfather Soujin yesterday in Tsuwano, showing up in the Fujita household once everyone else left after Kyuuzou’s wake. Hyousen acts quite friendly towards them, what with his late father and Soujin having been sworn brothers and all. There is some uneasiness in Hyousen’s behavior that wasn't there before, but one can expect it from a son who just lost his father... from someone who keeps losing his family every month. He says that his wife Shima couldn't show up, as she's been feeling sick lately.

Takayoshi exchanges a word or two with the detectives, but leaves in a hurry once his brother Taishi approaches (unsurprising reaction, considering the two's past). Taishi isn't as friendly as everyone else and claims that he's only here because he has another business in the prefecture anyway.

"The other Kotensui lives in Kyoto," Taishi says. "That is, the kid that provided Kotensui's voice, Ryuuguu Jounosuke. We have something to do at his house."

Ajiro seems to know the name Ryuuguu. Or rather, he knows about Ryuuguujou, the family’s palace so splendid it’s often called one of the two great mansions of Northern Kyoto (the other being a place called Geneijo). So this strangely named Ryuuguu Jounosuke has to be a young noble. Apparently when his ancestor Yatsutarou was designing the palace grounds, he took inspiration from the Saimon family’s garden, which led to him becoming friends with Saimon Taishin.

The Ryuuguus offered the Circus financial help many times, but the Saimons always refused to take any money from them. However, Taishi can tell that the Circus is pretty much over now with so many performers dead, and wants to ask the Ryuuguus for help—not even asking for money, but for a few of their koi so he can repopulate the depressingly empty pond.

It feels like Taishi’s sense of loss is connected less to their fish, and more to Akio; perhaps his sudden desire to get the pond back to normal comes from subconsciously wanting his brother back.

The bright spot in despair is that Taishi's and Tensui’s relations are getting better lately. Taishi states that if anyone will be able to keep the Circus going in the future, it will be the three child geniuses: Yomiko, Juku, and Jounosuke.

“That boy is a true wordician,” he says of Jounosuke. “A magician of words.”

Apparently Jounosuke has been travelling all over the world with his parents since he was born, which contributed to his knowledge of an astounding number of languages. He likes words so much he even named some of the buildings belonging to the Saimons, like Sanasou and Shakuya. For some reason he also likes to call Tensui yossha no ojisan (well, Tensui kind of is an "alrighty guy", but it's still a strange way to address him).

That last innocuous fact seems to pique Ajiro’s curiosity and he wants to have a word with Jounosuke.

--

And so, on August 22nd, Ajiro and Kirigirisu ride to Ryuuguujou together with Taishi and Yurine. It’s easy to see how rich the Ryuuguus are; their private grounds could probably fit an entire Disneyland, and a sleek limousine takes the guests to the palace, a giant black building with a tall tower in the middle. Ryuuguujou is surrounded by a western-style garden on one side and an eastern-style one on the other. In fact, the entire building was designed to resemble an European castle on one side and a Japanese keep on the other, down to the internal decor.

A butler shows them inside, where they meet Mr. and Mrs. Ryuuguu—Kintarou and Kaguya—who dress like they just got here in a time machine from 18th century France. They welcome the guests in a pretty exalted manner, both seeming constantly cheerful. They are without a doubt the weirdest people Kirigirisu has ever met, and that’s counting all the strange detectives he works with. Maybe that’s just how people living in palaces are.

Apparently Kintarou and Kaguya don’t always dress like this, but choose between many outfits from different eras on a whim (and even invite the detectives to borrow costumes and join their dress-up game if they like). They travel abroad for most of the year and because of that take special care to keep their friendships going whenever they're back in Japan. They like to consider anyone they meet as a potential great companion.

Their endless chatter is a bit exhausting, so even if the couple is extremely friendly, Ajiro and Kirigirisu are glad they can leave for the eastern garden to search for Jounosuke. Kirigirisu is actually a little worried for Mr. and Mrs. Ryuuguu; they seem so trusting and ready to help everyone around that maybe someone could easily abuse their friendship for nefarious purposes.

The detectives find Jounosuke feeding koi in the garden. Even in the summer the boy is wearing all black, including an elegant hat, gloves, and a long cape (but at least the shirt under that cape is sleeveless). He looks at them with curious big eyes, a happy smile on his face.

“Oh, so Mother and Father have made new friends,” he says when they introduce themselves.

Ajiro makes a comment that as expected from someone called a wordician, his speech sounds very intelligent, then asks about his age.

“Ryuuguu is now ten, in fourth grade at school," Jounosuke answers in third person. "Are you friends with yossha no ojisan? You called Ryuuguu a wordician, which means you know people from the Circus, and the one who knows the most about Ryuuguu there is yossha no ojisan, so you probably came to talk with Ryuuguu on his request.”

“This child is quite a detective,” Ajiro comments in amused surprise. “Maybe we should employ him in the future, huh, Kirigirisu?”

“Are you detectives?” Jounosuke puts two and two together quickly.

“Yes, we are detectives. We’re investigating a case and we would like you to help us with something.”

“You want to know yossha no ojisan’s secret? Um… but Ryuuguu promised he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I see. Then I won’t ask about it. You were the one who named Sanasou (山鴉荘) and Shakuya (杓屋), right? Could you tell us the origin of these names?”

“Oh! Sanasou has the kanji for raven (鴉) trapped in the word for a mountain villa (山荘), but it should actually be written differently. In the word for sake kasu (酒糟), there's this kasu (糟) that can also be read as sou. And by looking at Sanasou and changing sou to kasu you get Sanakasu (山鴉糟), which sounds like Saakasu—“Circus”! “And Shakuya is where they keep sharks, so it’s a shark room, shaaku-room, shaaku-ya.”

These are… quite the wordplays. Ajiro seems intrigued by the last one.

“I don’t know if you did that on purpose, Jounosuke… but that kanji for shaku (杓) means a dipper. I think the shaku in Shakuya may mean a constellation called the Big Dipper… and it refers to one other thing too, doesn’t it?”

“Um, that one is a secret.”

Ajiro gives Kirigirisu a conspiratory wink. Jounosuke may be smart, but he's still a child, so Ajiro can try and get the secret out of him in a roundabout way, by checking what topics the boy doesn't want to talk about.

“By the way,” Ajiro says, “in the aviary at Sanasou there’s a big dove figure called Onikaru-sama. Was that name also created by you?”

“No, Ryuuguu thinks it’s been called that since a long time ago.”

“Do you know that name’s origin?”

“Ryuuguu knows… and won’t tell.”

“I think that Onikaru-sama is not quite its actual name. Instead of O-ni-ka-ru it should be pronounced On-i-ka-ru, right?”

Kirigirisu has no idea what the difference is, but Jounosuke makes a troubled face. The boy’s not a very good liar, that for sure. Even if he stays quiet, Ajiro is pelting questions at him and presumably reading out satisfying answers between the lines.

“Tell me, did yossha no ojisan tell you anything about the word juuku?”

“Juuku… that’s the name of yossha no ojisan’s son, who’s a few years younger than Ryuuguu. Actually, Ryuuguu has never met him before.”

“Certainly, juuku written like the number nineteen is also Saimon Juku’s first name. But have you perhaps heard something else about juuku?”

“Huh? Ryuuguu doesn’t understand…” This time Jounosuke seems honestly confused.

“Then… have you heard of Golgo 13?” Ajiro for some reason names a manga series about an assassin for hire. What does that have to do with anything?

“Um, no… when Ryuuguu thinks of the shape of the word juuku (十九), the only thing he's reminded of is Senmaru (千丸)...”

That last word sends a cold shiver down Kirigirisu's spine.

Senmaru is a common nickname for the crossing at Senbon Maruta, the same place where Raiouji and Mikuruma were killed in an accident mere days ago. This has to be just a coincidence… right?

Kirigirisu doesn’t really understand what this entire conversation meant, but Ajiro looks completely satisfied and thanks Jounosuke for the help.

“Can Ryuuguu show you an illusion to end with?” the boy asks. “It’s the best, even yossha no ojisan was surprised! Is it okay if it breaks your watch?”

“It’s alright,” Ajiro says presenting the arm with his watch. “What gets broken can be fixed. It’s only fair to help you show us an illusion, considering how much you helped us today.”

Jounosuke reaches forward with one gloved finger, lightly pokes Ajiro’s watch—and it instantly stops working, the hands freezing in their tracks.

“I see…” Ajiro seems strangely satisfied for having his watch broken. “You’re like the opposite of Uri Geller, making clocks stop instead of restoring their function…”

“Jounosuke!” shouts a new voice. A teen girl in a white dress is walking their way with a stern face. “How many times did I tell you not to break other people’s things? I am deeply sorry, we will cover the cost of repairs …”

“No, it’s alright. My watch was already acting strangely and I wanted to repair it anyway. You must be Jounosuke’s older sister?”

“Ah, yes. My name is Ryuuguu Otohime. I’m sorry if my parents and brother were bothering you…” She sounds quite mature and like the only normal person in this family. Well, they do say that children either end up highly similar to their parents or become their complete opposite. “I’m not sure how to explain it, but what Jounosuke just did wasn’t an illusion. He has a strange power that lets him break every mechanical device he touches. It just suddenly showed up last year, around the same time when he started wearing all black.”

“It’s still a kind of magic,” Ajiro states. “As long as one acts like there is a secret method behind the performance, even a supernatural power is illusion. I think it’s wonderful to have abilities that other people don’t have.”

--

Soon, Kirigirisu and Ajiro prepare to leave against the wishes of Kintarou, Kaguya, and especially Jounosuke, who would love for them to stay and hang out all night. (Taishi and his wife do spend the night, since they live in another prefecture).

The detectives get a taxi back to the city. The slightly bizarre frenzied atmosphere from before turns into grim silence as they approach the crossing of Senmaru.

A class of small children is following their teacher through the crossing, and for a short moment Kirigirisu is sure he spotted Juku and Joukei among them—but that can’t be, Joukei is not around anymore. He takes another look. The two children he saw are actually a pair of a boy and a girl, perhaps also twins, both their backpacks having the name TAMEI written on them. [Which implies these two are Dakushoin and his sister from the other JDC books. What a nice little cameo.]

“Boys, be ambitious,” Ajiro says suddenly.

Huh? The popular phrase shounen yo, taishi wo idake? Ajiro doesn't elaborate what he means by it, instead adding another non-sequitur.

“We are the ambassadors solving the mystery of the magic show.” [Ore-tachi wa, kijutsu shou no nazo wo toku taishi nanda.]

Ambassadors? Kirigirisu truly has no idea what Ajiro means by those strange phrases, but has a feeling they aren’t just random gibberish.

--

Ajiro and Kirigirisu return to Nihon Tantei Club’s office, where everyone else (except Shiranui and always wandering Soujin) is waiting for them. Some of the detectives, especially Shiranui’s group, seem fed up with Ajiro doing things on his own and relegating responsibilities of the representative to others; even if he still gets cases solved, he falls behind as a team leader. Arito Tarou points out that Raiouji and Mikuruma were likely killed because of the Saimon Family Case, so Ajiro should at least tell everyone what’s really going on.

Ajiro can’t deny that those two deaths could be connected to the Case; if that’s the truth, he’s taking full responsibility. Even if it was just an accident, Ajiro admits he has to either abandon the Saimon Family Case and go back to his duties, or pursue the Case and abandon his position instead. He decides that if he doesn’t solve the Case until the end of September 19th, or if the deaths of Raiouji and Mikuruma turn out to really be connected to the Case, Ajiro will quit the Club.

Kirigirisu immediately announces that if Ajiro’s going to turn in his resignation, then he’s quitting too.

Soon everyone except for our two main detectives leaves the office for the night. Kirigirisu walks to the nearby Lawson to buy them something to eat. When he comes back, he notices a gorgeous white car parked under the building, then meets its owner on the stairs inside. Short and thin, with a white suit and the atmosphere of the Godfather—it’s Ajiro’s grandfather Soujin, who hasn’t shown up around for over a year. As always, his presence is overwhelming, making it obvious why the man was once called “Ajiro the God”. Soujin is happy to see Kirigirisu, but apparently is so busy he already has to leave.

Back in the office, Kirigirisu discovers that another old detective showed up in his absence, Shiranui Zenzou. Apparently Soujin gave him a lift here. Did the two Ajiros and Shiranui talk about the Case?

“We did,” Ajiro answers. "The Saimon Family Case that’s been confusing us for a year took grandpa all of three seconds to figure out. Well, it’s not that he solved it, but he gave us an important hint. The truth behind the Case that boils down to a single word.”

Shiranui interrupts him, saying that he doesn’t really know what’s going on, and his own method of reasoning (basically “doubting every single detail”) is still focused on whether Kyuuzou was actually stung by a hornet or not. Ajiro explains that while a stinger really was found in the victim’s body, the hornet itself may have not existed; anyone skilled enough in voice mimicry could emit a convincing buzzing noise. It’s possible that the murderer used a prepared stinger to kill the victim, making it look like an unfortunate accident.

Someone skilled in illusion and voice mimicry… Soga Tensui is apparently pretty good at both.

“If we were to guess the truth based on all the data we have gathered, everything would point to Tensui being the culprit,” Ajiro says. “However, a single word from grandpa forced us to abandon our previous theories and go back to the drawing board. This word is kuroyashi. Yashi may refer to the merchants and peddlers of a tekiya yakuza group, such as Fujita-gumi. Kuroyashi would mean “a black peddler”. And if you switch black and white around, what do you get?”

That would be shiroyashi… which sounds suspiciously close to Shiroyasha, the masked murderer.

The Case is finally one step closer to being solved.

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[afraschatz]

Leverage - The Studio Job

It feels like ages since I’ve done one of these, and I MISS MY SHOW, so I popped in a random DVD and whohoo it is “The Studio Job”. So here is a random amount of things that I love about this episode. I love...

... the sheer swagger of Hasselhoff err Schneider err Kirkwood. Not many people can pull off that leather jacket, dude

... the fact that Eliot is present during the initial client meeting. I’ve been wondering about this actually, I mean obviously it’s clear why Eliot is here because he clearly is the only one with a decent taste in music and whatnot (what violin? Hardison who?). But, like, does Nate have a diary on his desk where he pencils in potential clients and he hasn’t yet figured out that the team reads that thing and just “happens to show up” to meetings they think interesting? Is the entire team actually present for the inital “hello” and then just randomly decides “nah, not today, today’s client is harshing my vibe, I’d rather hang out with my horde”? How do these meetings come about? I NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS

... hahahaha, that music video is just the BEST THING. I kinda need a video like that with Eliot staring in it.

... Hardison dumping info like a boss. I know it’s common knowledge that Aldis Hodge was (in part) hired because of exactly that skill but seriously, he is SO good at it.

... “I don’t know how to play the fiddle” (Hardison probably does) and Hardison’s and Eliot’s reactions hahaha

... Kirkwood being a creepy douche. “But the computer...” - “Say it again.” Such a dick (and such a great little bit of characterisation)

... we are not talking about Hardison’s HORRIBLE outfit. Okay, maybe we are. We all know that Hardison has the best style of all of them (don’t fight me on this), so clearly the only explanation for this terribly mustard/brown combo is that he went to a thrift store and deliberately bought the most ridiculously 70s retro country shit he could find. Why? Well, to piss of Eliot, of course

... Nate wearing the white hat. Who are you trying to fool, mate? Oh, right. The mark.

... Parker’s dance theft. Hands down my favourite lift. Possibly ever. (Such a nice use of lazy sensual music there as well)

... Hardison’s clever strategy of responding to suspicion and anger by just mirroring that and instantly forming a bond of mutual pissed-off-ness

... Hardison’s condescension in reaction to the DJ’s super bad lie. Because lying is cool. But bad lying? That’s just offensive.

... Hot diggity dagum. Hahahaha, Hardison

... the notion that the entire time during that interlude Kirkwood is chewing Nate’s ear off

... Nate’s stutter - I love that he regularly uses these more obvious go-to-personas / tactics (like that stutter when he wants to come across as slightly gullible and not a threat) that aren’t that refined as those his team would chose. Why? Not because he can’t do any better. Just because he can’t be bothered. Ha, Nate, I love your casual arrogance

... sunglasses in that badly lit a club, Sophie? Really :)?

... Nate’s FACE the moment Kirkwood turns his back. You sexy, devious bastard. I love you.

... Parker and her refusal to buy into metaphors. Her sense of humour is just so - I mean OBVIOUSLY she gets it, like she gets every other metaphorical expression (“I didn’t even get to see the emerald!” anyone?). But yeah, I agree with you, it’s hilarious when the rest tries to be patient / loses their shit

... HELLO FIDDLE!

... that shot with Eliot and the blue and yellow lights

... Eliot being offended all over the place. Parker startled him! Parker was a kid!catburglar? (Dude, this is, what, the third season? How can that surprise you?) Eliot CAN sing!

... that little bit of maybe-stage-fright. And the fact that Parker is up there with him and her overacted astonishment. Which is a. seriously funny, and b. such a neat reaction because of course it pisses Eliot off, and a pissed off Eliot is not a nervous Eliot. I love these weird bits of their friendship

... Hardison following suit. - Darth Vader Eliot and Smurf Eliot. Parker’s genuine laughter. Oh God, could I love the friendship these three have any more? I think not. (And what’s the greatest thing? This isn’t even talked about, this isn’t even supposed to be the POINT of the scene. Other shows create entire episode’s, entire fucking seasons around moments like this one. Leverage? Just casually dishing it out. Because this show is perfection.)

... Hardison first comparing Eliot to Britney Spears, then calling him “baby”

...NATE poking fun at him for it

... Hardison being startled, not because of the “baby” bit obviously, but oops, there he was flirting with his best girl and his best guy and he might’ve forgotten that the coms were live

... HOW OLD ARE YOU, Nate :D

... “This must be the Southern charm I heard so much about”. Sophie, being brilliant with the “fuck you, you sleazebag” without the sleazebag actually noticing. I seriously love her throughout this episode. She has very little to do, but everything she does just reeks of that special brand of low-key arrogant professionalism and pride in her grifter skills. So much love for her.

... Nate’s sexy white hat profile!

... Eliot letting himself be seduced. Not gonna lie, there are plenty of his dates that I like better than the one in this ep, but this still is a great little scene. I really dig Eliot’s way with people (and it’s not just women; it’s people). Because he LISTENS.

... Sophie being a food snob. Again.

... Sophie’s outfit. The hair? The frigging jacket? So rad.

... Sophie’s way with Kirkwood compared to Nate’s earlier. See, this is the expert at playing people, the Shakespeare of grifters

... Eliot’s fucking voice

... Hardison’s little panic attack

... Nate’s FOCUS when he looks at Eliot. That’s not just because the con works. That is his super sharp shark focus of pride (which is totally an expression).

... seriously, Eliot’s voice. I need to dig out my old Kane CDs

... Eliot’s little smile at the end

... reward sex. You earned that, man.

... why do you take out your com? Everyone knows what you’re doing anyway. And now Nate has to beat up goons on his own. Jeez.

... “You two work out together” - hahaha, oh Nate

... “Forever 21, don’t hit me” - another seriously nice bit of interlacing the imminent danger of Nate potentially getting killed with teenage groupies. Not only is that little tidbit funny in its own right, it also tells us, before we even see it, that Nate’s all right. Eliot already knows, obviously, he has the ear bud back in and he is taking his sweet time to give that autograph and whatnot while definitely listening to Nate dealing with that problem. That is my version of how it went down and I’m sticking with it

... “Oh, ELIOT’s the fiddle” hahaha

... Parker’s outfit. Hardison’s COAT (btw, the way Parker and Hardison interact here? This is probably pretty close to how they must seem to the unsuspecting casual observer ALWAYS, just minus the outfit).

... “We was cool, we was vibin’”

... Eliot being chased, and all of this having such a retro Beatles vibe to it

... “Contrary to what you all believe, I do not control everything that happens on the internet”... five seconds later “Boom, fansite nuked”

... “I’m pretty certain a fatwa was issued!” - “You’re so vain, man.” (Because yes, Hardison. Eliot brags by telling people how many governments want him dead. That is absolutely how Eliot rolls.)

... “seriously, for breakfast?!” - I love you, Sophie

... Sophie’s superfast reactions and the joy of getting to slap Nate

... Parker’s traipsing and Hardison’s gangsta walk

... you know what is better than Hardison half naked in a recording studio? Hardison, half naking in a recording studio, yanking Eliot’s chain.

... Parker’s scale of what is weird being VERY different than anyone else’s

... “This is not from an iceberg”

... Hardison moving with Eliot’s music, then interrupting him, THEN cutting off communications :)

... niiice little bit of storytelling-by-superzoom, and Parker solving the case while Hardison and Eliot are just mucking around

... Ribs, Ribs, More Ribs

... “The guy who’s buying our fiddle? He thinks he IS the fiddle.”

... Locked off comedy frame - my favourite ever, actually. SO many great OT3 scenes in this episode

... beating goons up with a mic stand AND drumsticks

... black-hat-Nate (now, doesn’t that look more right?) impersonating Hannibal Smith

... nice shot of the four of them in the hotel

... a conveniently parked random motorbike

... Eliot err Kenneth Crane t-shirts

... Kirkwood lip-syncing

... a groupie flashmob

... Parker on stage. Because this is important. For the con. For Eliot.

... Eliot once again proving that he is a great actor (second best on the team) in that staged conversation with Kirkwood

... a conveniently placed cow-hide

... Eliot and Nate doing the gloat together.

... Nate’s black hat, toothpick combo (he is really loving this week’s outfit theme, isn’t he?)

... Eliot’s little laugh at the proposal of being one half of the next Johnny and June. I love that because it’s both sweet and kinda flattered as well as absolutely-not- are-you-kidding-me- as-that-could-tempt-me-away- from-the-sweet-gig-I-already-got

... that little beat, again with just Nate and Eliot. God, I love their friendship sosososo much. I should write a 5k essay about it. And by essay I mean ode.

... that way that Nate is not looking people in the eye when he wants to give them a bit of privacy. Or when he wants some himself

... “Notes on my performance” - “How were you?” - “No complaints” - And Eliot’s and Sophie’s relationship? SO different. Equally awesome.

... I also what to know what time it is, Eliot.

 Perfect episode. Perfect show.

[whenimaunicorn]

Keep Your Enemies Close - Bobo Del Rey Imagine

Fandom: Wynonna Earp  Rating: Explicit (don’t interact if you’re not over 18 please) Tags: dubcon, trapped in a small space, enemies to lovers

Requested by @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen, prompt line in bold. 

Worst. Decision. Ever. How is it, that when a literal demon from hell comes stalking through Shorty’s, looking to suck the souls of anyone it can grab, I end up choosing the same hiding place as my worst enemy?

“I haven’t heard anything in a few minutes,” I say softly to the big man in the even bigger coat, who is taking up most of the space in the broom closet we have accidentally chosen to share. “I’m going out.”

“Risky,” Bobo del Rey rasps, his mouth only a few inches above my ear.

“Well I’m not staying in here with you.”

“I can assure you that you are safe here… with me.” He puts on his trademark leer and I roll my eyes. Even if some glint in his smile makes me imagine things that set my pussy aching. Wrong time, wrong place, definitely wrong guy. “And I am not letting you open that door,” he continues, settling himself more firmly between me and the handle. “That thing out there has exceptional hearing. One squealing hinge, or particularly loud stomp from those ridiculous boots of yours—”

“You want to talk to me about ridiculous fashion!” I interject.

Bobo cuts me off with his hand splayed wide, his third and fourth fingertips landing on my lips to shush me. “We can’t make any noise,” he whispers. His eyes track quickly over my face in the dim light seeping around the edges of the door.

It’s rare to see him look nervous. That alone scares me enough to shut up, though I jerk away from his hand.

The back of my head contacts something hard, and I hear scraping wood.

“Shit,” Bobo hisses, and reaches out to grab something behind me.

I turn to see that what I had bumped is an assortment of precariously-stacked mops and brooms, which Bobo had narrowly caught before they clattered to the floor.

“Not a lot of room to maneuver in here,” he growls down at me. “You had better stay still.”

I lean away from the jumble of handles as Bobo sets them back against the wall over my shoulder. Which means I’m leaning closer in to him, the brushing of our bodies inevitable. The spicy, heady musk of him fills my nostrils, and there’s no way for me to get further away.

I examine the white patch in his beard, the matching interruption in his brow. I suppose as far as faces one could be stuck having to look at, his is at least an interesting one. My gaze flits to his eyes and I see that he is looking at me too. It’s awkward as fuck. I’m used to only staring at Bobo down the barrel of a gun. Now we’re in here, what, saving each other’s asses?

“How long do we have to wait here?” I ask.

“Until someone sounds the all-clear, I suppose.” His hand goes up in some vague gesture above his head, the movement rocking his body against mine again. The twitchy bastard can’t seem to stop talking with his hands, even in these tight quarters.

I dig my phone out of my pocket to check the time, then realize that I’d better turn it to silent mode before some clueless communication tips off the monster out there. “You’d better turn yours off too,” I say softly.

“Don’t have one.”

I look up at him skeptically. “You really are a man out of time, aren’t you?”

Bobo del Rey tips an imaginary hat at me.

Stuck in broom closet at Shorty’s – I type in a text to Wynonna –You take care of the monster yet?

“Don’t forget to tell her who you’re with,” Bobo breathes in my ear. There’s not really a way to hide my screen from him. Instead, I cover his view briefly with my middle finger. “Fuck you.”

“Now there’s an idea,” he taunts.

I pull back the last inch I had left to get away from him.

My screen lights up, indicating Wynonna has texted me back. Still being handled – stay put.

I slump. The fuck are we supposed to do now?

Bobo’s spindly fingers dance over my shoulder. I shrug him off without looking up. I try to browse Instagram on my phone, distract myself while we wait, but the signal is shitty back here and nothing new will load. I shove my phone back in my pocket in frustration.

Bobo’s fingers slide up the curve of my back.

“What are you doing?”

“Distracting myself.” His hand finds the clasp of my bra, and in one precise motion he unhooks it through my shirt.

“What the fuck!” I swear, feeling my breasts falling heavier, nipples hardening in their new extra space.

“You keep brushing your tits against me,” Bobo complains. “What else am I supposed to think about?”

“I don’t know, not getting your soul sucked out by a hell demon?”

Bobo only shrugs. “This is how I cope.”

I know I should stop him, but when his hands creep under my shirt, and he nuzzles his surprisingly-soft beard into the crook of my neck, I can’t think of a better way to pass the time either. All I can do to keep my pride is to pretend I’m not really into it.

Bobo’s fingertips slide around my sides, underneath my shirt. I try to control my breathing as I wonder how fast and how far he’s going to go. He draws circles around my flanks, like he’s giving me one last chance to complain, then his hands span each side of my ribcage as his thumbs slide under the loosened cups of my bra and make contact with the bottom of my tits.

I close my eyes and exhale as softly as I can, as heat rushes to my core. Bobo’s thumbs slide back and forth, every movement stoking that fire until I wish I had something to lean against. But that would just be a sign of weakness.

The first time his thumbs loop up to brush across my stiffened nipples, a mewl escapes my lips. Bobo’s face moves in front of mine, like somehow he can catch the sound waves before they get too far. “Hush, can’t make a sound, remember?” His tone is teasing, but that can’t be right. Isn’t he just as scared as I am? His open lips ghosts over mine. “I can cover your mouth if you need it,” he offers. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

I draw my neck up, pulling my lips a fraction away from his. “I’m fine,” I decline. “I hope this distraction is working for you. I don’t need any help.”

“Is that all this is,” Bobo rumbles. His fingers come up, capturing both my nipples in a firm pinch. “Just a little something for me.” He tugs down, both at once, and I swallow a yelp. “You’re not getting anything out of this.”

“Nope,” I say quickly, though the lie is obvious in my querulous tone.

Bobo grins a shark’s smile, head cocked right in front of my face. “Well if that’s the case, honey, then I’ve got something in my pants you can use your two hands on. That’d really help me out.”

“I’m not touching you.”

“Oh. Is that how you’re gonna play it.” Bobo squeezes my nipples again, lighter this time, massaging in a rhythmic pattern that finally makes me lean forward against him, just a little, needing the support. My hands press against the tight board of his abs, and I try to ignore the tantalizing urge to explore his body more.

He gives my ear a quick nibble, then pushes my shirt and useless bra up all the way to my collarbones. He gives a deep, masculine growl at the sight of my exposed chest, then leans in to lick across one breast, then the other.

I don’t even know how long he spends sucking on them, only that he does it until I can barely stop myself from squirming, until two white-hot lines of passion are drawing straight from my nipples to my throbbing cunt. I can’t give him the satisfaction of showing how much I need him down there. I would never fuck Bobo del Rey, and thank god this broom closet is too small for him to even be able to try without my help. Even with my help, I’m sure we wouldn’t be able to pull it off without making a heck of a lot of noise.

So I’m safe, relatively. It lets me feel free to allow him to keep making me feel so goddamned good, to let him play with my body as he wishes… knowing he could only take it so far. I can feel his erection straining through his pants every time he moves against me. It feels great to know how much he wants me, and how easily I can deny him.

Bobo’s hand slides down my belly, and pops open the button on my jeans. I breathe out in a burst, at this point only trying to suppress my desire to pant wildly for him. “No harm in a little heavy petting, right?”

No harm indeed. I do nothing to stop him from opening my pants as far as they will go and shoving his hand down inside my panties.

He purrs out a satisfied little noise against my ear as his finger runs straight down my slit, barely even parting my folds. “I knew you’d be this wet for me.”

I can’t even be embarrassed, not when his finger slides so sweet and easy past my last defenses, touching me exactly where I’ve been aching for it. He sinks in to the knuckle, and I only barely stop myself from moaning his name.

He gathers up my arms with his other hand, sweeping them behind my back and holding them there in a way that makes me arch my back and lean one shoulder into his chest. I’m bare to his eye from tits to cunt, my posture opened to give him the best possible view in this dim little room. The rush of his breath hardens my nipples all over again, and two fingers are now pulsing rhythmically inside me.

“You’re gonna give me everything, aren’t you.”

I shake my head, even as I bear down harder on his penetrating digits. “I’m never going to let you fuck me, Bobo. But I bet you wish I would.”

“Mmmmm you know I do,” he murmurs into my ear. “I can feel how tight and slick this pussy is. I’ve got some tricks with my fingers,” he makes some swirling motion that makes me bite my tongue to stop from calling out, “but can you imagine how much better it will feel with my cock in there? So much longer, and thicker…” He leans in and pumps as aggressively as he can manage with my legs still together.

“You gonna make me cum, Bobo?” I challenge, feeling the potential for orgasm sweeping up my whole body already.

He cocks his head to the side as I look up at him through my hair. “I’m not sure if that would be a good idea,” he teases. “We are supposed to be keeping quiet. And I have a feeling that you,” he presses his steely eyes closer to mine, “are a screamer.”

“Didn’t you offer to cover my mouth?”

The corner of Bobo’s lip tugs up in a smile. “That I did.” He leans down and presses a ferocious kiss to my mouth, tongue parting and invading me almost immediately. I answer eagerly with my own tongue, too far gone now to pretend I still don’t care, and he scrapes down it with his teeth. Bobo’s kiss is devouring, and all the while he’s rubbing against my clit, still curling his fingertips tight inside my body.

The kissing doesn’t last long. Bobo maneuvers me suddenly so that my back is against his front, fingers still buried in me. “The things I want to do to you…” he growls against the skin of my neck. “There’s no way you would be able to keep from screaming.”

I had almost forgotten this was a demon revenant with his hands all over me.

“But they’ll be worth it,” he promises, shifting his pumping fingers into a toe-curling angle, and wrapping his other hand squarely across my mouth, making me lean against his chest to stay balanced. “You come see me again, you’ll cry and you’ll scream, but I’ll make you feel like this, too.” He licks along the edge of my jaw. “At least four more times.” Then he pumps into just the right spot to make that mind-numbing crest of orgasm start to blaze.

I do want to scream when it hits me, my body seizing up around his wicked fingers and almost trying to reject the pleasure at the same time that I finally succumb to it. I keep the volume as low as I’m able, and Bobo’s big hand wrapped across my mouth muffles the rest to something that probably won’t attract any unwanted attention. Bobo holds on as all the subsequent waves hit me, my body milking the fingers he has buried as deep inside as he’s able, the heel of his hand still rocking against my clit and forcing every last bit of pleasure out of me as I pant and shake.

When I’m coming down I keep my back leaning against him, the fur of his ridiculous coat tickling my cheek as I catch my breath, languid in my afterglow. He removes his hand from my mouth in favor of stroking knuckles along my cheek. “That was beautiful,” Bobo praises, and something in his tone feels just a little too awed, a little too real. I’m not ready to think of Bobo del Rey as a person, more than just a monster that I had allowed to use me just this one time.

So I pull my shirt back down hastily, balancing onto my own two feet, though his hands stay on my hips as I try to break contact.

Not a moment too soon. A few brisk steps sound in the hallway, and then the door is yanked open, light streaming in. Bobo’s back is to the door, and I have to thank the enormous coat now, because it blocks my situation from Wynonna’s view. I know it’s Wynonna that opened the door, because she immediately curses at the sight of that brown fur and sputters, “Bobo?”

I button my pants quickly as he smirks down at me, trying to catch my eye for a final goodbye. Instead, I push past him. “I’m here, Wynonna. Safe and sound.”

She’s standing in the hallway with Peacemaker in both hands, Waverly standing a pace behind her. Her brows are drawn so high they almost reach her hairline. “What are you doing in there with him?” Wynonna even grabs my elbow and pulls me a little behind her as Bobo del Rey emerges fully from the broom closet behind me.

I scowl over her shoulder. “He picked the same hiding place as me.”

“Well.” Wynonna’s clearly not sure what to say, thrown off by the unexpected sight of her usual enemy in such close quarters.

Bobo doffs his hand in front of his face, giving her a mocking little bow. “And I thank you for the rescue today, Earp.”

Wynonna just scowls at him, and starts to walk away. “I’ll deal with you another time. I’m going to find a way to get Shorty’s out of your hands,” she promises.

“Of course you are,” Bobo says, voice dripping with condescension. Then his eyes rivet onto my face. “As promised, I got you through it, safe and sound.”

I strike a disaffected pose, showing off for Wynonna and Waverly, even as my limbs still have a slight tremble from the powerful orgasm this man had just given me. “Oh yeah, you’re great in a crisis, Bobo.”

Wynonna is already pulling me away.

Bobo smirks after me. “Maybe you'll let me buy you an ice cream some time.”

I wave a noncommittal hand at him, as Wynonna screws up her face and turns to me. “What?”

I shrug as we turn the corner back into the main room of Shorty’s. “He thinks we're friends now.”

Waverly quickens her step to come up to my other side. I feel her hand brush up across my back, unimpeded. “Hey, is your bra unhooked?”

[urrisma]

@invadedzim Sorry it's so long qwq

(Me explaining my dream in your artsyle)

Okay, how do I explain this? The dreams started out later on and then kinda filled in the past years after a while so I'll see if I can start from where it began

So at the age of 13 (It was very specific on ages and yet not the timeline qwq) Dib and Zim both are kidnapped by the tallest, who need some sort of weapon to be built and it takes both a human and an irken to make (idk man dream logic) and Zim and Dib are the only human and Irken to ever work together on something, so they were their best bet. (Irkens and their pride and all)

During this they kinda become friends and talk to each other about each of their lives. (You can imagine that Zim was constantly telling him how "lucky" he is to be making something for the tallest as a worthless meat baby) They are actually really quick friends, and needless to say, Dib is pretty pissed at the tallest since y'know, they are complete assholes to Zim, remember that time they made him go through a bunch of shit just to protect a god dang cheeto that was worthless to them?

It takes a long ass time, but Dib finally starts to get to Zim when telling him what the tallest actually think of him. They both end up escaping together and back on Earth, where Zim needs time to think to himself. Dib is like 👌 and then they part ways.

So, I can only assume they somehow made a compromise and are now working together to try and make as many places as peaceful as possible (Mainly irk) because the dream just has a plot hole there, don't really know how they came up with that idea or really why they would want to, but y'know. (Also it took them a couple years to come up with the plan, let's say like 4 so the timeline makes sense)

Anyways, they try to go for an easy area first, a planet full of lemon-based pastries, yup, dream logic. The Queen of the place is based off a Lemon Cake, and they call her Lemica for short. She ends up with a crush on Zim and literally straight up tries to kidnap him. Great, new bad guy! She isn't really evil just completely oblivious, in fact everyone on the planet is completely oblivious and happy all the time (Oh and she had cute little minions called the Macas who were macaroons, and they would wear a hat that looked like the top of one and aaa- so c u t e)

They leave the place and think they'll try another time, after this for some ding dang reason (Maybe using reverse psychology? Since the cute little lemon pastries were evil) decided to go to a planet full of a bunch of shark people DREAM LOGIC. Anyway, the leader of that place is named Sharko (Later we find out that's just a nickname because his full name is too girly for him, he himself was really girly looking as well) he also had little shark minions

Surprise surprise, he's also evil and takes their propositions as a "You're bad you need to change" and says he will track where they live and murder em. So yeah, Sharko kinda a bitch.

After 2 failed attempts they decide to take a break (I can only assume, the dream don't explain everything) but they see on the news that sharks are popping out of the ocean and beating the shit out of people on the beach and decide to go out there and help them (Of course Zim is upset it's a place full of water)

They end up having epic battle and winning, woop woop! Finally something positive happens to the boys! Sharko says they have proved they are superiors and now will serve them and destroy any planet they want them to. Not wanting to risk another misunderstanding (I ASSUME) they just go with it and let em fly back to their planet (Also they erased the memories of everyone on the beach that saw them fighting, the dream told me that much.)

After awhile they decide to go back to the lemon pastries planet and talk to the leader, since she noticed how they reacted last time she doesn't try it again, then she asks for a weird liquid for a truce. So they like 👌👌 and go out to where she wants them to go.

Turns out it's some Irken storage unit, oop and here comes some Zim ptsd. Since he's shorter than the one giving the tour, he's asked to do almost everything, like opening doors and letting them try out certain weapons on him. He just be like "Sure, yeah, I'll let you take advantage of me, what else am I good for besides being a slave to those taller than me?" Very sarcastically. The one giving the tour just responds with "Yes!" Just making him sigh. Dib notices this and tries to silently comfort him, how cute. (Dib has a disguise and is praised for being such a tall "irken")

Anyway, they end up in the room with the liquid but also inside of it was an object that can show your worst nightmare coming to life. They try using it on Zim because of course they do, and nothing changes so they try Dib instead (THAT'S PRETTY EDGY ZIM) it ends up being multiple things like fluffy animals and his dad(Which he pretends he doesn't know) Zim just kinda pets one of the cats and watches his friend be terrified (Completely unnecessary detail about this one scene but not the more important ones, thanks dream)

Anyways, they get the liquid and get outta there. They make the truce with Lemica and tell her all about their plans, she decides to join them and ends up going back to Earth with them (Have no idea who's in charge of the planet now but whatever, plot holes)

So I'll assume years pass by, probably like 4 more (Also a year passed while they were doing the peace stuff) so that's 5 years passed. They did a lot of filler stuff, a lot of useless detailed scenes my dream decided to give me, BUT there was an important recurring theme, and that was Dib trying to boost Zim's self esteem.

After that 4 years, he succeeds in boosting it and helping him move on from the past. Buuuuuuuut according to my dream, whenever an Irken gets a POSITIVE emotion (Unrecognizable) it freaks the freak out and makes that certain emotion very bipolar. How does Zim deal with his self esteem going up and down constantly? He eats dirt. Yup, dirt. Thanks, dream!

Turns out it's not any dirt, it's dirt that makes all your emotions go away for even a second, so he just eats it to relieve the pain for awhile, it takes a while but dummy Dib besides to ask about why he is constantly eating dirt all the time because he was worried bout his friend (The dream was so bipolar about whether they were dating or friends so I'll just say friend to stay safe lmao) anyways he explains everything to him after a lot of persuasion (Also apparently the dirt constantly changes its texture so like it cancels out the emotions? I really don't know why this was info we needed, dream)

Dib, being the dumbass he is just goes "Oh don't worry buddy boi I'll just fix it!" And Zim just be like "Bitch wut." And boom! That's all the dream I've had so far!

I really did fill up a lot of the plot holes the dream had, this is what i THINK the timeline is. Anyways, Sharko and Lemica were both babies to me, all the filler really attached me to em idk why. Oh also Tak and Gaz kinda showed up sometimes and they were dating, it was sure of that, I just couldn't exactly tell where in the timeline she showed up.

It was really all in your artstyle, which was really…. Weird, to say the least. I guess you're in my brain now, just like my secret alien stash, where I had a dream they posted art and that's literally it. I'm really surprised a dream could make up such a story like this with not too many inconsistencies. Like the fact that his name is too girly so he calls himself Sharko is just… such a tiny detail and yet my dream added that layer to the character, it's just… nothing like this has happened to me before. That's all I can really say, I'll update if the dream comes back.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Clothes (Family!Verse)

Summary: Nick and Olivia take Zara back to school shopping

Warnings: D slur, a man using the d slur (it’s made clear he shouldn’t), implied body dysphoria

WC: 1.3k

-

One of the first things Zara notices, after moving in with her father, is that he and Sonny are exactly the kind of gay people her mother would hate. Maybe it’s a coincidence, or maybe Nick is why she feels that way, but either way,  Zara knows her mother would hate what they’re like. Nick has tee shirts with rainbows on them he likes to wear out. They go to pride events. Sonny’s jacket has various LGBT patches on it. They tease each other by calling each other gay whenever they do something romantic. Really, the thing that Maria would have hated the most, is that they’re happy and open about it.

She’s been there almost six months before she goes back to school shopping, to get more clothes than the few pairs of jean shorts and light tee shirts. In the meanwhile, she’s gotten to go to pride, and has acquired a lesbian shirt, but she has this feeling of not quite right. This itch beneath her skin. It’s always been there, but having the opportunity to do something about it is entirely different.

Olivia and Nick are with Zara, in the huge department store with an entire floor for clothing. Although she’s not supposed to, she looks at the tags of things to find out how much she should buy. Nick always says not to worry about the cost, but she always will. By taking a look at the tags, she knows this is a cheaper place, which means she can get more without having to spend too much.

They go to the women’s section first and foremost, which makes sense. She’s a woman- a young one, maybe not quite over the threshold. Zara goes to a stack of jeans and starts thumbing through them for a size that might fit her while Olivia starts on a rack of tee shirts like the ones Zara already owns. Nick doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself; mostly he looks around at thing. He picks up a tee shirt with a Bulbasaur on it in a size clearly too large for Zara, but not broad enough in the shoulders for himself. It must be for Sonny.

Zara holds up one of the pairs of jeans and wrinkles her nose. They’ll fit, but they’re skinny jeans, despite being labeled as normal. All jeans in the women’s department are skinny jeans, she’s noticed. In the past she would’ve bought them anyways, but she’s so tired of pretending to be something she’s not.

“Want something looser?” Olivia asks, startling Zara almost enough for her to drop the jeans. “I’ve been buying jeans from the men’s department since I was your age. They’re not as fitted.”

Her first instinct is to say no. A second later, she realizes that Nick and Olivia probably don’t give a shit if she buys things from the men’s section. Slowly, Zara nods, and follows Olivia across the center aisle of the store to the men’s section, where a whole wall of different styles and washes and colors of jeans stand.

The first thing Zara notices when she touches the jeans is that it’s like a different fabric entirely. This is actual denim. It’s rougher. Thicker. And Nick has to point out to her that the sizes are just measurements of her body, not arbitrary zeros, twos, up to sixteens before this store decides it isn’t worth it. Here, they start in the upper twenties, because that’s the actual size.

“We’ll help you find something that fits,” Olivia says. “What style do you want? I personally like , and Alex likes men’s slims because they’ve still got more room than women’s.”

After a quick look at the pictures next to the jeans display, she chooses straight leg, and lets Olivia help her find a few sizes to try on to figure out what fits best, because Zara doesn’t exactly know her measurements off the top of her head. The pairs go into a cart Nick got at some point, and Zara’s prepared to go back to the other section when her eyes land on a button down. It’s navy, with little white sharks all over it. Nick sees her looking and goes over to them. “What size are you?”

“That’s a guy’s shirt.”

Nick blinks.”Do you like the shirt?”

“I mean, I think it looks pretty cool.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what the store categorizes it as. I don’t care what section you get your clothes from, as long as you like them. Now, what size are you?”

Zara’s a women’s medium, so she has to go over to the rack and hold things up to her body until she figures out what men’s size she is. It turns out to be small. She puts it in the cart too, and then starts looking around the men’s section. Surprisingly, she likes more of these things than she thought she would. A few more button downs go into the cart, alongside several tee shirts, a jacket, and a snapback.

When she starts trying things on, something clicks. She looks at herself in the mirror. The second pair of jeans she’s put on fit perfect and comfortable. Her shark button down falls mostly flat because Zara doesn’t have a real bra here yet, just a couple cheap sports bras (which means she should probably get real bras while they’re at the store), and her chest hasn’t ever been particularly big. There’s a slight strain to the buttons over her chest, but she feels like it’s not too noticeable. On a whim, she picks up the hat and tucks her hair into it so it doesn’t fall around her shoulders.

It clicks.

She still looks like a girl, but she also doesn’t. This feels right. The difference from how she usually dresses, especially the way she used to back in California, it’s giving her a feeling of comfort in her chest that she doesn’t know how to describe. Zara’s about to open the dressing room door to get Olivia and Nick’s opinion, but pauses first to rip the hat off of her head. It may be comfortable, it may make her look more like herself than she possibly ever has, but the fact remains that she’s lived her entire life in a world where love is entirely conditional. She doesn’t want to find out if that’s the case here too.

“Does this look okay?”

“It looks amazing. The only thing it’s missing is-”

“Don’t say dyke boots,” Nick interrupts. Olivia hits his arm. “You’re right, sorry. I won’t do it again. But no, she doesn’t need those.” He looks up at Zara with his head tilted to the side slightly. “Unless you want them. If you want stompy boots- is that what Noah calls them? Your stompy boots? Anyways, if you want a pair, you can have one.”

Zara’s eyes fall down to where Olivia’s tapping her boots against the industrial floor. They have thick soles and steel toes, and are affectionately referred to by Olivia and Alex as her dyke boots. Why, Zara isn’t entirely sure. But she does like them, and has spent a fair bit of time admiring them when no one’s looking. She doesn’t like it when people look at her. Even the amount Nick and Olivia are right now is starting to make her skin itch.

“If they’re not too expensive, a pair of boots like Olivia’s would be cool.”

Nick waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about cost. We’ll get you a pair, okay? Now, go try on the rest of it, see what else you like.”