#the last time a cat of us escaped she was thinner and all hurt for fighting with cats

[bat-the-misfit]

having a cat with cancer is not enough i needed to get in even more panic bc i didn't see another cat escaping through the window and walking on a slippery roof he almost fell and broke a leg or died or smth

like wow how can i not be feeling like a trash when smth could have happened to him???

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

[pregnant-piggy]

I’ll take care of you

Draco Malfoy x reader

Request:  hey! can you write a draco x reader where they are in a new relationship and the readers parents are abusive but they don’t beat her bc they are all about the image but for torture they barely feed her when she is at their house on holidays so when draco sees her again after the holidays he notice that she is extremely thin and he is really worried and you continue thank you!! (anon)

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: talking of abuse (nothing really explicit, but it’s talked of)

A/N: I didn’t want to write this too explicitly, because it’s a heavy subject. I am sorry it took so long. I hope you like it :)

- - - - - - 

The Hogwarts express blew steam into the hot air as platform 9¾ was crowded with people. Families said their last goodbyes to each other, parents kissing their children and already longing for Christmas when most of their children would come back or sighing happily as they now finally had some peace. There were first years nervously standing beside their trunks, staring at the ink red train. Birds squeaked in their cages and cats that had escaped ran between the people.

You sat in an empty compartment, staring at the scene on the other side of the window. Your parents had dropped you off earlier, before the crowd. Their goodbyes had been quick and cold, like always.

Resting your head against the back of the seat, you closed your eyes. A deep breath calmed the nerves. You had been going to this school for five years and yet you were scared. Your sixth year was standing ahead of you, a year full of exams, new teachers and more stress. But you were looking forward to it.

A whistle was blown and the final students hopped on the train. A few hung out of the window, waving goodbye to the people on the platform until they disappeared from view. The decor of the station soon changed for the scenery of the green fields. Lands of grass and wildflowers passed by in a blur as the train made speed.

For the first time since you had gotten home after last year, you relaxed. Your compartment was empty, but you didn't mind. You embraced the silence and stared out of the window to the green haze.

The voice of the person you hadn't seen in so many weeks and whom you had missed dearly, broke your thoughts.

‘I thought you weren't even on the train,’ Draco said and he sat down next to you, but not before kissing you softly on your lips. You rested your head on his shoulder and breathed in his calming scent.

You and Draco had gotten together in the last month before the summer. The Slytherin boy you had had a crush on for months back then, had answered to your feelings by asking you out on a date.

- -- -

Three Gryffindor students were talking loudly in the library as you tried to concentrate on the work in front of you. Herbiology had never been your strongest subject and you needed to get a good grade on this test or who knows what would happen.

Just as you were reading about the healing powers of the pink and purple plants you had been studying this semester, someone else entered the library. You didn't need to look longer than a second to see who it was; you could recognise Draco from miles away.

He loitered at the bookcase and you quickly turned back to your book, before he would realise you were staring at him. But now you had seen him, you could not not think about him. His light hair and light grey eyes flew around in front of your eyes and your Herbiology was left for what it was.

You had been crushing on the Slytherin for a while now and you weren't even sure how you got to it. It was one day, when he bumped into you in the Potions cabinet and he apologised, that you had felt the butterflies as he touched your shoulder when saying sorry. And ever since then you had found yourself drawn to him whenever he was in the room. Funny how such a little touch could turn your life upside down.

Madam Pince had shooed the Gryffindors away and the library was filled with such a silence that you could hear your own thoughts loud and clear, as if they were being spoken out loud. Draco stood at the bookcase closest to you and it took all your strength not to look at him.

You stared at the words of the book that lied in front of you. They didn't make any sense. You dropped your head sighing in your hands and stared with empty eyes ahead of you.

‘What are you working on?’ Draco asked and you scared up.

The blood rushed to your cheeks and you scrambled up. You looked Draco and then back at your book before you answered. ‘Well, right now nothing.’

‘So I can sit next to you?’

‘Uhm, sure.’

Draco dropped his bag on the table and took the chair next to you. He didn't pull out any books but instead turned to you. His knees were pressed lightly against your thigh and you balled your fist on the side of your body, out of his sight.

‘Shouldn't you be doing something?’ you asked, afraid he would leave if you didn't say anything.

Draco laughed loud, receiving an angry glare from madam Pince. He shook his head with a smile on his face and got closer to you, resting his arm on the back of your chair.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said with a low voice.

‘Why?’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Draco laughed softly again. ‘Because I want to get to know you. I fancy you, you see?’

You stared at him for a second and your jaw dropped. He liked you? You tilted your head to the side and watched Draco. He still had a smile on his face but you could see through his confident exterior that he was anxiously waiting for a reply from you.

‘I fancy you too, Draco,’ you said and gave him a smile.

He seemed encouraged by your confession and moved even more closer.

‘Enough to ditch Herbiology and spend time with me?’

‘That you even have to ask,’ you grinned.

- -- -

You didn't look very good, Draco noticed. Something had changed over the summer and when he took your hand and felt that your fingers took less space in his hands, he realised you had gotten thinner. Not just a little, healthy thinner, but more of a haven't-eaten-in-a-while-thin.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he could hear your steady breaths. He had missed that sound, just as he had missed everything about you. Even though you and him had only been dating for a month before the summer came, he had grown to you so much over that time. And in the summer he had not seen you at all and even barely spoken to you. Your letters were few and short.

Draco had been filled with doubts over the summer; did you still like him? Or had you realised that maybe you didn't like Draco after all?

But now you were resting against him, your hand tightly in his he realised that his doubts had been unjust. You liked him just as much as he liked you. Or maybe even love.

‘Darling?’ Draco asked and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him. ‘How was your summer. Your letters weren't exactly detailed.’

You sighed softly and averted your eyes from Draco's face. Your fingers played with the bottom of your shirt and you didn't look up as you talked. ‘It was fine,’ you muttered.

‘Okay,’ Draco slowly said, taking your hand in his. ‘You know you can tell me anything, right?’

You looked up to Draco and he saw tears pooling in your eyes. Without hesitating he pulled you close to his chest and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sobbed softly into the crook of Draco's neck as he rubbed your back.

‘It's alright, darling. I'm here,’ he whispered into your ear and you tightened your grip on him.

For minutes the compartment was only filled with the sound of your sobs and Draco's reassuring words. He wanted to know why you were crying, but he knew he should give you your time. He was there for you, now and for as long as you'd have him.

‘You want to tell me?’ he whispered as you pulled away.

Your face was close to his and he watched the tears in your eyelashes. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Draco thought you were more beautiful than ever as you trusted him to be vulnerable in front of him. He cupped your cheek with his hand and kissed you on your nose, making you giggle lightly.

With the back of your hand you wiped away the tears of your face before you spoke with a quivering voice. ‘It's my parents. They- When they get mad at me- The whole summer-’

You stopped talking and sighed defeated, looking at your hands. Draco took your hand gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Take your time.’

You took a deep breath and looked back at Draco. ‘They don't let me eat. They say they can't physically hurt me, but they don't give me dinner or breakfast. They say they're disappointed in me and that I bring a shame to the family...’

Your voice got softer again and you looked insecure at Draco. He felt the hate for your parents razing through his veins. He wanted to do something to them. But now his priority was you, as you were crumbling apart in Draco's hands. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into his chest.

‘It's alright, love. I am glad you told me. I will take care of you, darling. We'll find a solution. We will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and I am sure my parents won't mind if you come to stay with us next summer. Don't worry, I’ll help you through this,’ Draco said, his own voice trembling with emotion. ‘You’re safe with me.’

‘Thank you Draco,’ you said in his chest and moved your head to place a kiss on his jaw.

‘I would do anything for you, darling.’

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna

let me know if you want to be added!

MASTERLIST

[shimmeringclouds]

[ 2. ]

Ichimatsu shut the door behind him with a sigh, removing his gloves and tossing them into a trash can nearby. He rubbed at the back of his neck, half-lidded eyes glancing back to the door briefly before turning away.

"How'd it go?" Osomatsu had seated himself in his chair, watching his younger brother lean on the wall across from him. Karamatsu was sat to his right, and Choromatsu to his left, both equally curious as to how the treatment had gone.

"..She's all patched up."

"...That's it?" Choromatsu deadpanned. "That's all you're gonna tell us?"

"How is her condition?" Karamatsu rephrased. "What are her injuries?"

Ichimatsu shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze stuck to the ground. A familiar ginger cat slinked into the room, twisting itself around his legs before settling down beside him. The comfort of a close friend made Ichimatsu feel slightly more at ease.

"Her right wrist is sprained, and her left shoulder was dislocated," the brothers winced, "Luckily, she didn't get any broken ribs, but she was probably close to it. She's got bruises and swelling, mostly around her neck and upper body, and skin burns from the rope. Her lip's busted, too, so it's got some stitching. And..."

He cut himself off with another sigh, shuffling his feet around. Osomatsu raised a brow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"And' what? What else is there?"

The silence was tense, and much too long for the men to sit through. Choromatsu's leg began to bounce slightly as he waited for an answer, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

Ichimatsu fiddled with his earring, flicking the golden hoop a few times before running his hand through his curvy locks.

"She's.. also got loads of scars. They ain't fresh, either."

"Scars..? From what?" Karamatsu pushed. Ichimatsu only shrugged.

"Dunno. But there's a shit tonne on her back. Big ones."

The brothers looked at each other wearily, unsure of how to react. It was already bad enough that you had been taken hostage and beaten to near death, but now this?

Osomatsu stood up suddenly, eyes closed in thought.

"Well, it's not like any of us don't have scars. So it's not a big deal."

"Osomatsu.." Karamatsu sighed. Sometimes, his brothers didn't realise how insensitive they could be.

"Whenever she wakes up, let one of us know, it doesn't matter who," he continued, nodding to Ichimatsu. "We'll get the questions out of the way so that she can rest."

Grunting in affirmation, Ichimatsu headed towards his small tray of medical supplies, moving them towards a sink in order to clean off the blood. Your blood. Osomatsu left, and Karamatsu followed not soon after, wanting to take a breather out on the balcony.

"..You're still here."

The statement caught Choromatsu off guard for a second, but he quickly regained his composure. He raised a brow to his younger brother, leaning back into his chair and whipping out his phone to go through absentmindedly.

"Yeah." He replied shortly, leaving no room for argument as he focused back onto his phone, scrolling through random social media and notifications. Ichimatsu glared at him before going back to his task.

Choromatsu glanced at the door. You were behind it, laying on a bed, sleeping soundly through the pain. For now.

The same feeling as before came bubbling up to his throat, filling his senses with a sort of worrying feeling. He grit his teeth tightly. If he was being honest, he didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. Ever since he laid eyes on your broken form, the feeling wouldn't go away.

This was bad. Very bad.

And yet, he stayed in his seat. Waiting for you to wake up so that he could see you first.

——————☠︎——————

[ —

You were remembering a time where the sun was bright, and the grass beneath your fingers was a vivid green. There were mumbled words echoing around you, and you looked towards the hazy sky, a plain azure stretching as far as the eye could see.

There was a ball in your small hands. Its canary yellowed stripes across the white background gleamed brighter the longer you stared in confusion, unsure of what you were supposed to do with it.

Your name was called, distorted and far away, carrying itself in the wind until it reached your ears. It was telling you to throw the ball towards them. Somewhere ahead of you. The sunlight reflected into your eyes, removing your ability to see who was there.

But you threw it anyway, putting all your strength into your arms, eyes screwed shut in determination. There was the sound of the hollow, plastic ball bouncing along the ground until it came to a stop. There was laughter, drifting further away from you. Your lower lip curled into a pout — why couldn't you see where it was coming from?

' You did so well! '

Where had you heard that voice before?

' Come here, throw it again, sweetheart! '

Okay, you thought to respond. You felt the buzz of words on the tip of your tongue, however your mouth failed to move. Regardless, your stubby legs stumbled forward, arms reaching out to grasp at whatever had hidden itself behind the veil of light, fingers curling and unfurling around nothing but air. The sky was fading into a pure white, obscuring your view, yet you pressed onwards.

You were becoming desperate now, calling out for whoever was there. Their name was on your lip, resting right on the edge, you knew it, but it didn't fall. Your throat was tightening as tears of frustration welled in the corners of your eyes. The luminosity was becoming blinding, and the grass no longer tickled at your skin. Your eyes fell closed as you felt the warmth of the sun dissipate, the air becoming colder and more frigid.

Where was the voice? Where was it? Where?

Silence greeted you as an old friend. You found yourself unable to move, arms stuck to your sides and legs tucked under you as they became numb. You had opened your eyes and you still found darkness. Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, thundering against your body as you held your breath.

You were sure you had called out for that voice. There was no response. There was never a response.

A deafening clang of metal sounded from behind you, and your heart had now leapt to your throat, mixed with a sickening concoction of bile that threatened to spill if it was pushed just enough.

Deep footsteps, weighted and unwavering. They rounded your left, stopping in front of you, too close for you to be comfortable with. The muddied boots that were now in your vision suddenly and unexplainably terrified you. What could be so frightening about a pair of boots?

And then, when an unforgiving hand grasped at your strands and lifted your face upward ever so slowly, you realised. For it wasn't the boots that terrified you, but the one who was wearing them.

You were sure that the bloodied smirk on the face in the shadows was the last thing you would see before death became permanently splintered across your cheek.

— ]

Your cheek throbbed painfully as you snapped your eyes open, pupils contracting dangerously thin as they darted around the unfamiliar room.

A cold sweat had made itself known as you shuddered, coating your skin in goose-bumps whilst your tried to find your bearings.

That same light bore down on your eyes painfully, the burn making you flinch to keep your eyes closed, but you knew you had to keep them open. You had to know where you were. You had to know what was going on.

Willing the fog of confusion to remove itself from your mind was no easy feat, and the heavy breaths that left your chest heaving made you all the more lightheaded. Your vision began to blur, your teeth gritting in shame. You hated crying. You didn't want to cry anymore. Tears, however, have minds of their own, and they made that clear as they traversed down your temple and clung to your hair, some even making it down to your lip, the twinge of salt making you grimace.

It hurt to breath. Every inch of your body felt as if it were on fire, prickling and feverish, in desperate need of relief. Your parched throat begged for a sip of water, but your arms were still restricted from movement. Your left arm in particular felt rigid, with only your fingers being just about moveable.

Sudden flashes of memory that supposedly lead you to your current position appeared before your eyes. The gruesome feeling of bones cracking and blood bursting from your torn skin made you squirm. You didn't want to go through that again. You would do anything to not go through that again.

The room around you was morphed and irregular, the double vision that swirled your eyes together faintly fading in and out. You could barely make out the shape of the rectangular door in the far right corner of the room, it's golden handle glinting ahead of you.

It was then that you heard the numerous garbled voices sounding from the other side of the door. With each pump of your heart, they got closer and closer, your panic increasing at the thought of whoever it was entering the room.

It was too late, though. The handle had already begun to turn, the small crack between the doorframe growing larger, enabling the voices to now be heard clearer in your ears.

There were three men, none of them looking your way as they seemed too preoccupied in the conversation they were having. A small whimper escaped your throat at the sight of unfamiliar people coming close to you, and you struggled harder to move away from them, knowing all too well that you wouldn't be moving anywhere.

You came to an immediate halt as their heads turned to you synchronously, watching you with slight surprise in their eyes.

They hadn't expected you to be awake so soon. Taking your dishevelled appearance — from the tangled mess of hair on your scalp to your torn clothing and bandaged limbs — one man stepped forward and away from his small group. He slowed his movements upon seeing your chest rapidly rising and falling, your swollen lower lip wobbling with worry.

Your mind vaguely registered the gentle smile he gave you, raising his hands in surrender. Your eyes trailed down the beginnings of a blue scale-like tattoo on his upper arms, disappearing under the black shirt he wore before reappearing on his exposed chest.

"We aren't here to hurt you, my dear."

His tone was low, gently reverberating through your nerves. The soothing baritone in his voice calmed you for a short second, and you watched as he crept closer to your bedside, not stopping until he hovered over you. His dark eyed swept over your injuries, thick brows furrowing as he looked back into your eyes.

"Do you remember your name, flower?" Lowering his voice to a murmur, he waited patiently for an answer. You cast your sight towards the other two men in the room, who were stood silently by the door, watching you. One of them appeared to be scowling at the man beside you, whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping impatiently against his bicep. He caught your eye before turning away, the frown on his lips tightening further.

Speaking was a difficult task in itself. Your throat was parched, leaving your tongue dry and voice croaky. You stammered your name out as clearly as you could with a small nod of your head, shuddering pained gasps as your lips ached with each formation of words.

The man's smile returned, relief evident on his face as he moved away from you. He wasn't speaking to you now, but to the men at the door.

"I feel it would be best to sit her up," he gestured to the bed you lay in.

"...Don't put too much pressure onto her." The man with his curling locks tied back into a messy ponytail and tired eyes mumbled brief instructions, not making a move to leave his spot. The man beside him sighed with a tut, grumbling as he made his way to the left side of your bed.

You eyed him warily, looking back to the tattooed-man for reassurance.

"You're safe here, darling. No harm will come to you here," he spoke to you whilst manoeuvring his larger hands under your back from the left. "We only wish to help you."

The sincerity in his words rolled over like honey, oozing sweet kindness and glowing golden. Tears sprung to your eyes once more — you could trust this man.

Once they had you sat up (with only a small amount of struggle to not hurt your further), a glass of water was held close to your lips, the tattooed-man urging you to take a sip. You wrapped your lips around the rim of the glass hesitantly, but as soon as the first drop of cool water fell down your throat, you began gulping down the drink in one go, desperate for that cooling relief on your throat and mind.

The man settled the glass down on the bedside table before taking a seat in an empty chair behind him, crossing one leg over the other as he took a deep breath.

"[L/N] [Y/N]," he began. You looked over to him in worry, his serious tone making you expect the worst. "If it's alright with you, we would like to ask you a few questions."

...Questions? You tilted your head slightly, shuffling your back against the large fluffy pillows resting behind you.

"About what..?" Your voice was doing a lot better than before, still holding a slight rasp in your words. You cleared your throat as discreetly as you could, unable to cover your mouth as your arms felt so heavy.

"About the events you have just been through. You do remember what happened to you, yes?"

The very mention of recalling such memories made you visibly shudder. Nodding hesitantly, you concluded that you couldn't exactly get out of this. You were stuck there until they decided to let you go, and until then, you would just have to go along with what they asked.

'Who knows what will happen if I don't listen..' you thought, an undertone if bitterness lacing into your mind.

"Before we begin, I believe introductions are in order." He placed a hand over his chest, bowing his head politely. "My name is Laamcung. Pleasure to meet you, my sweet." The continuous use of pet names baffled you, unsure as to why he kept using them on you, but you brushed it aside for the sake of not pissing him off.

There was a moment silence before Laamcung sighed. He pointedly looked towards the other two men by the door, who rolled their eyes at him.

"Ceoicung." The man wearing a black V-neck t-shirt quickly spat his name out, not even bothering to look at you. The one beside him, with the curly hair and golden hoop in his ear, seemed to shrink into himself as all eyes turned to him. He appeared to want to be anywhere but in that room.

"...Zicung.." you were barley to catch his name with how low he had mumbled it. Laamcung sighed, smiling apologetically to you.

"My apologies, dearest. My brothers aren't exactly the best at formal introductions, but I assure you, they are nicer than they appear to be."

You didn't entirely believe him, but it was better to nod along and not question anything at all. You briefly acknowledged the fact that they were brothers, realising that it only made sense, seeing as they had very similar faces. Triplets weren't too uncommon.

Laamcung readjusted his legs, switching from his right leg resting over his left to his left over his right, pressing his hands over the curve of his knee.

"I understand that you may not feel comfortable recalling such events," Laamcung began, "But I must ask you to tell us what happened. From before you were kidnapped to when you know it ended, and anything that you think could have lead to you being a target. All of this information is vital, angel, so I must implore that you tell us everything that comes to mind."

The pressure placed back onto you mentally was heavy. He was right, it was going to be extremely uncomfortable for you to talk. You didn't know if you could do it.

"..Hey. We don't have all day."

Zicung's rough growl of annoyance made you shrivel up, forcing yourself to swallow your nerves so as not to tick him off.

"Zicung." Laamcung sent him a stern glare, silencing his brother with a word of warning. You saw Ceoicung dig an elbow into the man's rib, keeping him quiet. "Take your time, [L/N]. Ignore him, there's no rush."

Nevertheless, you wanted to get this over and done with. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you kept your eyes glued to your left arm, apparently finding the sling and bandage around the limb to be very interesting as you spoke.

"I don't know how I got there... Nothing out of the ordinary has happened before I was t-taken, so I don't know what could have led to this happening.." you furrowed your brows. It was the truth, and the more you thought back on the day before your kidnapping, the more you became confused. Why were you a target? Was it because you were an easy catch? Was it because you were a nobody, so it wouldn't cause a big fuss? Why, out of the thousands of people in Cekcung, were you taken away from your normal life and thrown into this hell?

"All I know is that I went to bed like I always do, and the next time I woke up, I wasn't at home anymore."

The three brothers glanced at one another. It all sounded like a simple coincidence, then, that you had been a victim to their enemy, Reznov. But if they knew the sly man, then they knew that it was anything but a coincidence. He always had a motive, whether it was complex or downright stupid, it didn't matter to him — a motive was a motive.

"Has anything happened to you throughout this week, then? Or even before that?"

"..I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you mean."

"Have you done anything to piss anyone off." Ceoicung was now the one to cut in bluntly. You chanced a glance up to him, and upon finding his narrowed eyes boring down onto your face, you decided to stick with looking at your bandages. Hmm, yes, this bandage was so interesting to you.

Your mind reeled back to yesterday, then the day before, and then jumping to the week before that, your brain filling with images of merging memories of anything you could think of, before you stilled.

There was something.

"...I think so."

The brothers raised a brow to you, leaning in slightly to catch onto every word you were going to say.

"I run a small bakery, and that day about a week ago, I hadn't gotten much sleep, so I was out of it for most of the day.." the more you spoke, the more that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach seemed to grow. How had you not noticed it before?

"I kept making a few slip ups here and there while I was working; I just couldn't seem to concentrate very well. But luckily, a lot of the customers that came in were regulars, so they didn't really say anything. Until, this one customer.." You struggled to remember his face for a moment, the first thing you remembered about him though was that he was tall, almost tall enough to brush his head against the short ceiling in your shop.

"He ordered something, and I must've messed up the order, since he suddenly started yelling at me once he opened the box. I was so tired, though, so I wasn't really paying attention.. I don't remember much of what he was saying, and he just got angrier.."

You remembered him slamming his fist down hard onto the counter top, the way the change in the cash register clattered loudly in its metal box ringing in your ears.

"All I remember him saying is... I-Is.." your throat closed up again, and the urge to bury your face into your hands was strong. Squeezing your eyes shut, you recalled what he looked like, now. His features were all to familiar. Especially that same, dark, twisted smile he had sent your way before he made his way out of the shop, muttering the words that had allowed you to get caught up in this mad, crazed world.

'Looks like I found myself the perfect ragdoll to play with.'

[scarabbai]

Adeptus Fragile! Handle with Care.

Rating: T

Relationships: Ganyu & Xiao | Alatus, Xiao | Alatus & Zhongli, Ganyu & Zhongli, etc.

Fic Summary:

Centuries have passed since the age of the Traveler and their companions, and the immortals of Teyvat—or what’s left of them—have moved on, living modern lives in modern times. The adepti of Liyue are no exception.

But when something rather unexpected happens, their modern life begins to get a little... too modern. One sunny morning, the great Conqueror of Demons, an accomplished senior in the ranks of the Adepti, wakes up and looks at the world with innocent eyes.

“Who am I?”

Archons, someone give poor Ganyu a break...

-

Chapter 1:

In which Xiao wakes up

AO3 Link

The first thought that comes to him when he wakes up is: Fuck, my head hurts.

The second one comes after, when he pulls the sheets tighter around himself and buries his face in his pillow with a groan: I don’t want to get up.

The third slams into him just as he’s about to fall back asleep: Wait, where am I?

He bolts upright in bed, shaking the sleep out of his eyes like a wet dog shaking out its fur. He regrets it when it only makes his headache worse, but the fact that he doesn’t recognize any of his surroundings when his eyes do a quick sweep of the room overshadows that.

Alright, this is fine. Everything is fine. Remain calm. Remain calm, uh...

The realization crashes down on him like a wave, leaving him cold and shivering.

He doesn’t even know his own name.

Okay. Okay, you know what? He can do this. He can work with this. First things first: get situated.

He makes a move to get out of bed, but with his legs tangled in the sheets, it ends with him taking a rather ungraceful tumble instead. His face burns with embarrassment when he lands on the floor with a thud, reduced to nothing more than a balled up heap of limbs. Frustrated, he kicks and struggles blindly, but it only gets him more jumbled up. He’s like a cat trying and failing to escape a blanket cocoon.

He huffs. Mortals and their needlessly irritating fabrics...

Wait, what? Where did that come from? He scrunches up his face in confusion, puzzled by his own thoughts.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much more about it when he hears a knock at the door.

“Xiao,” calls a voice from outside the room, and his head snaps toward the sound. Shit, someone’s here. “Xiao, are you alright in there? I heard a loud noise.”

He doesn’t respond, not trusting his own ability to speak. What should he say? What should he do? And why is that voice, of all things, so familiar? It’s comforting, despite having no idea who it belongs to.

The knocking comes again, more insistent this time. “Xiao,” the voice repeats, firmer but concerned. “If you don’t say anything, I’m coming in!”

He struggles harder in response, but his awkward flailing gets him nowhere. He slumps in defeat. Apparently, this is his life. Whoever he is, bested by a very long and very tangled roll of cloth.

When the door opens, he freezes. A girl with light blue hair steps into the room. She has a gentle and earnest look to her despite the worry written all over her face, and...

Are those horns on her head?

There must be some kind of next level pathetic expression on his face because when she glances over and sees him looking the way he does on the floor, her first reaction isn’t laughter. Instead, she gasps in horror and rushes over, kneeling down and fretting over him in a way that makes him tense up and abandon the idea of wriggling free. He shrinks away and hides his face from her big, purple-pink-whatever colored eyes—they make him feel guilty, somehow.

“Xiao, what’s going on? What happened?” She reaches out but seems to rethink her decision, pulling her hand back before it can touch him. Is he poisonous or something? “It must be the karmic debt again... I’ll call Zhongli, he’ll know what to do.”

She’s back on her feet almost instantly, but before she can turn and leave, some unknown impulse—fear? Loneliness? Just the need for an explanation?—has him reaching out.

“Wait,” he pleads, and the sound of his own voice surprises him somehow. “Don’t go...”

The words stop her in her tracks. He can’t identify the emotion in her eyes when she slowly leans down again to take in his teary-eyed expression, but he thinks it might be uncertainty. Or suspicion? Maybe it’s just intense focus. He’s not sure what that something is, but he’s pretty sure now that he’s bad at reading people.

With that same look of scrutiny on her face, she cautiously reaches out and places a hand on his forehead. Her skin is cold to the touch, and he fights the urge to flinch away. He’s learning very quickly that he’s unused to physical contact.

Despite this, something inside him relaxes as the coolness spreads from his head to the rest of his body. She’s trustworthy, he decides. He may not know who she is or why her presence is so soothing, but he knows this.

Is she family? She feels like family. He does have a family, right?

A thoughtful—and somewhat displeased—hum breaks him out of his thoughts. Expression blank but eyes curious, he blinks up at her while she puts her hand to her chin and frowns at him. She seems troubled.

“Xiao–” She cuts herself off, worrying her lower lip in uncertainty. Dimly, he realizes she’s been referring to him by that the whole time—Xiao might be his name. “You’re... acting a bit strange this morning. And you came stumbling home last night, and you went to sleep when you never do, and...”

She sighs. Heavily. She sounds so distressed it makes him feel a bit sick in solidarity.

“I don’t mean to pry or overstep, but...” She pauses, unsure, and that inexplicable feeling of guilt returns to him in her brief silence. “Are you alright? I think there might be something wrong...” A look of alarm crosses her face, and she quickly backpedals. “Not with you, of course! I’m just saying...” She fidgets a little, but when she meets his eyes this time, her resolve seems stronger. “I’m just saying if you’ve gotten into any trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help, wherever I can. It’s the least I could do.”

He stares at her in response. She stares back, wilting a little.

Definitely family, he concludes. A doting older sister, perhaps.

Awkwardly, he realizes her silence means he should answer her somehow, but instead of replying with something intelligent or actually explaining himself, all his stupid mouth blurts is, “Good morning. Are you my big sister?”

He immediately wants to bury himself.

While she balks, caught off guard by his clearly uncharacteristic statement, he panics. More foolish nonsense spills out of his mouth, and between her confused spluttering and his inability to form proper words, their attempted conversation dissolves into an unrecognizable mess of half-formed sounds. It’s as if he isn’t used to speaking or hasn’t spoken in a long time, and this failed speech of his is making up for it.

In the end, none of what they attempted to say was actually comprehensible. He takes one look at the pure confusion—and maybe even a little horror, but he has a hard time telling—written all over her face and knows he has to try again. It appears he’s bad with words as well. Shame and frustration settle in his chest at this discovery.

The first thing he manages to come up with is, “Sorry.” He buries his face in the fabric wrapped around him, feeling small. “I don’t... know what’s happening,” he admits, and he hopes the note of fear in his voice is muffled. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t know who you are.” His eyes sting with tears. Suddenly, he feels pathetic. “I don’t even know who I am...”

Saying it out loud breaks something inside him—it all feels so much more real now, and he‘s so confused, so lost. What is he supposed to do? Who was he? Why did this happen? Frantic thoughts swell like rising water within him, and he sobs, drowning. He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know.

The question that says it all falls from his lips like tears:

“Who am I?”

- - -

Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

She doesn’t know what she expected from this morning, but it certainly wasn’t this. It certainly wasn’t waking up to find Xiao—whom she greatly respects—in... whatever state it is he’s in.

He had called her big sister. Her! The big sister! The sheer disbelief she felt at those words—if anything, Xiao is the senior. His rank in adeptal affairs is higher than hers despite their ages, and their interactions have always reflected this. And if that wasn’t jarring enough, what he revealed next sent her reeling.

No memories. None at all. Can you believe that? The Conqueror of Demons with sudden amnesia? What is this? What has her life come to?

She realizes, belatedly, that Xiao is crying. He’s crying right now in front of her when he had never once showed an ounce of vulnerability before her in the past, and the sight is shocking.

Well, no time to lose. She has to do something, even if she’s not sure what exactly it is she should do.

Swallowing down her nerves, she tries to sound as gentle and reassuring as possible when she shushes him and murmurs, soothingly, “It’ll be alright, Xiao, it’ll be alright... You’ll be okay.”

As she says this, she awkwardly reaches down and—the act kills her a little inside—pats Xiao lightly on the head. Despite his sobbing, he calms slightly. That alone is enough to make her nerves fade just a little, and she takes the opportunity to help him out of the blanket bundle he’s gotten himself into. With careful hands, she unwraps the sheets tangled around his body, peeling away layer after layer until he goes from sad spring roll to just Xiao.

As she pulls back to assess her handiwork, it really strikes her how... small Xiao is.

He hasn’t gotten any shorter or thinner, his facial features are unchanged, and overall he looks the same as he did yesterday, but the way he holds himself now makes all the difference. His emotions are out in the open as he wipes at his tears, his heart unburdened by memory, his eyes innocent. Without the millenniums of suffering and coldness that defined him, he feels so young.

He’s just a boy, she thinks as she pulls him into a hug. He resists at first but settles into the embrace soon after, resting his chin on her shoulder. Mindful of the way he shakes with quieting sniffles, she rubs little circles into his back. The action seems to soothe him.

Ganyu considers the situation. This is okay, actually. This is alright. Zhongli-dàrén will help her figure out what has happened to Xiao when they go to him, but she can handle this for now. She can manage this.

Responsibility is a self assigned fate that has always fit her like a glove, and this is just another to add to her list of duties. Surely it won’t be that hard to look after her new little brother?

“Your name is Xiao,” she begins, voice soft. “I’m Ganyu.”

She feels rather than sees the nod Xiao gives in response. It makes her smile as she pets his hair.

“And you’re right, Xiao-dìdì. I’m your big sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 8: Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Crap crap crap! Nami thought, looking between the two Devil Fruit users. Her night really couldn’t have been going worse. She was disarmed, caught up in the sticky, painful grasp of a perverted old man with way too many arms, one of which was still worming its way inside the deep V of her bodysuit. Then, even if she could somehow escape the tightly wound tentacles, Black Cage Hina herself stood between her and the exit. The woman might not have been a powerhouse, but her abilities were like something out of a Marines’ wet dream, specifically designed to capture wayward pirates like Nami.

Escape couldn’t have looked more unlikely and at this point she was really hoping Law was ok so he could get his ass back inside and rescue her.

“Ah, Hina-chan, perfect timing!” Harpin laughed. Two of his unoccupied arms pointed at Nami, who was trying her best not to show how much the razor-edged suckers digging into her skin had started to hurt. “I caught this pirate lurking around my study. She must be in on the village’s rebellion; I recognize her necklace as one created by my worthless former jeweler. They must have hired her as an assassin. Arrest her at once, my dear!”

The pink-haired Marine jutted out her hip, expression stern and unimpressed. “I’ll gladly put a Straw Hat behind bars, you’ll be going to jail too.”

Black, watery eyes widened. “What?”

Cool as iron in winter, Hina pulled out a cigarette, taking the time to light it before answering, “Didn’t I tell you that my superiors decided my attendance at your party was more important than attending to my duties? That’s because they wanted me to gather evidence that you’ve been selling government secrets and destroy whatever blackmail you have on them; we’re in tumultuous times, and the last thing they need is you churning even more chaos for your own gain.”

“Ah, a honey-trap. Of course,” he chuckled, giving her beautiful, athletic body an open leer. “Not a bad plan, given my fondness for you, but shouldn’t you have been a little nicer to me if you wanted to get your hands on some evidence? Avoiding me all night isn’t a very good seduction technique.”

Hina looked disgusted at the very thought. “I’d rather cut my own face off than allow you to touch me. No, our plan was far more palatable; Smoker had snuck away earlier to mess with the pipes connected to the spa above the ballroom. We were hoping the water damage to the ceiling would catch your attention for a while so we could investigate.”

“And instead, the village’s rebellion, led by Cat Thief Nami, puts all that careful planning to waste,” he said, giving the captive woman a shake for emphasis. Much as the action hurt, Nami was silently grateful, as it dislodged the tentacle still in her cleavage.

A pink eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You really think the villagers are the ones bombing your mansion? How stupid.”

“Stupid? How dare you! It doesn’t matter whether those peasants were in on it or not; it’s the narrative I’ll spin to the papers when they report on tonight’s events. Once word’s gotten out that they sided with pirates over their beloved master, no one will blame me for finally eliminating those slums. I’ve been wanting that eyesore removed for ages, but they simply refuse to leave.”

The Marine captain scowled at his confession. “Then I suppose when I take you in, I can add ‘slander’ and ‘corruption’ to your list of crimes.”

“How are you planning on arresting me, Hina-chan?” he asked with an incredulous laugh. “By force? My rank was comparable to a Vice-Admiral!”

Grey smoke streamed from her cigarette as she replied, “But your strength wasn’t. Powerful as the Ika Ika no Mi is, you rarely ventured onto the battlefield, instead getting fat and lazy behind a desk. And now that you’re past whatever prime you had, I’d say you’re a little closer to my level.” She smirked, cracking her knuckles. “Hina will enjoy this.”

“You should have stayed downstairs with the guests, Hina-chan,” Harpin sneered. “I’d hate to hurt such a pretty face.”

Glancing at Nami, who’d wisely chosen to remain quiet throughout the conversation, Hina frowned in consideration and—surprisingly—a hint of sympathy. “You’re going to jail, Cat Thief, but if you promise to sit tight, I’ll get you out of your sticky situation first. No woman deserves to be manhandled by a creepy squid.”

All things considered, that was probably be the best deal a pirate could get from her, so Nami nodded enthusiastically.

Running forward, Hina extended her arm, clotheslining the two tentacles encasing her wrists. Nami stared in awe as the Marine’s arm went right through them, leaving behind a black shackle locked around each clammy limb. Spinning on her heel, she next kicked her leg through the two binding the pirate’s thighs. The way the rubbery grey flesh immediately began to pucker and swell indicated that the bands were painfully tight, and Nami soon felt their grasp weaken.

“Fuck!” Harpin yelped, though any further curses were cut off as Hina’s fist slammed into his face. The blow knocked him stumbling back, and after another right hook he had no choice but to release his hold on Nami, the shackles on four of his limbs too constricting and the Marine before him too skilled to engage while restraining a thief.

Falling onto her ass with an “oof!” Nami immediately inspected her thighs and wrists, wincing at the angry marks left behind. Perfectly round, thumbprint-sized red rings littered her skin where the suckers had taken hold, the incisions from the chitin little deeper than a papercut but just as painful. A few had even drawn blood, though to be honest, Beatrix’s nails had sunk deeper.

The suckers are designed to capture and restrain, not rend and tear, Nami concluded. Those tentacles are no joke, though. If he’d been trying, he could have pulled me apart like a paper doll!

With a heavy kick to the chest, Hina sent her former superior crashing into his desk, papers and trinkets flying everywhere. Glancing down at the thief, she raised a challenging eyebrow. “I’m not going to waste my time and energy restraining you, but if you try to run, I won’t hesitate.”

“Fine. Wouldn’t want to miss your beatdown of that pervert, anyway,” she ground out, gingerly prodding at her disfigured legs. If she were lucky, Hina would eventually be too distracted with her fight to notice her sneaking off, but she wouldn’t play her hand until the time was right.

Pleased with the compliance, the Marine darted across the room to continue her cathartic thrashing of the ex-head of Navy intelligence, each punch, kick, and slap making her smile wider as she threw him into suits of armor, furniture, and anything else that was in the way.

Meanwhile, Nami took the opportunity to crawl towards her Clima-Tact, hugging the batons to her chest like an old friend. A glimmer from across the room caught her eye as Harpin was knocked into a lamp, and the embossed titles of the black ledgers winked at her as they lay on the floor. After all this trouble, Law would be pissed if she left without them. Quite frankly, now Nami was feeling pretty determined to get them, too. She wanted to read up some more on Jinbei, and that diagram on the Pacifistas could be useful if they ever ran into Kuma again; maybe it even had some information on how his powers worked, and she could use that to track down the others!

On top of that, Hina was right; the world was already in chaos, and people like Harpin shouldn’t be gaining from it.

While the Navy captain was busy repeatedly grinding the heel of her shoe down onto his crotch, Nami took the opportunity to dash across the room, skidding to a halt by the knight’s armor and gathering up the black leather books.

A crash caught her attention, and Nami’s head whipped to the left to watch Hina dodge a fallen chandelier. Haprin’s floppy lips smirked around his beak, hand pressed against a hidden switch on the wall.

Crap, Nami thought. I forgot there were other traps. She froze as Hina tossed her a glare, the thief’s new position not escaping her notice. Double crap!

The Marine didn’t have any time to do anything about the wayward pirate, though, as Harpin decided to go on the attack, using his multiple arms to fling books, debris, and scattered pieces of armor at the women. Nami awkwardly dodged the projectiles, ducking behind the safe. A thought suddenly hit her, and she peeked out from around the corner of her impromptu shield to observe the Golden Octopus.

Despite the beating Hina had given him, he didn’t look all that much worse for wear. No bruises or welts marred his ashen skin, no bones seemed to be broken, and he even seemed to be walking normally despite the testicular trauma Hina must have inflicted. On top of that, the shackles still locked around his tentacles didn’t seem to be slowing him down, either.

Having had more than enough, Hina shouted “Awase Baori!” as iron bars extended from her arms, spanning across the room. The cage smashed into Harpin’s rubbery body, squishing and distorting it as the bars wrapped around him. Maliciously, she raised the bars and the ensnared man as high into the air as she could before slamming him down onto the floor. As he glared at her, she smirked around her cigarette. “Give up. Everything that passes through my body is locked tight.”

The feeling of victory shattered as his scowl morphed into a smug smile around his beak. “Silly Hina-chan,” he sneered, and as if deflating a balloon, his body became thinner and more flexible, squeezing out from between the bars. Even the shackles Hina’d wrapped around his arms fell away, clattering to the floor. Quickly, eight rubbery limbs lashed out, the two powerful clubs slamming into her stomach like bludgeons. “You can’t cage a squid!”

“Gah!” she coughed, the air pushed from her lungs. Six more arms lashed out, striking her across her face, torso, legs, and ass, jerking her about with each surprisingly powerful blow.

Damn it, didn’t Hina even stun him? Nami thought incredulously, doing her best to stay behind the safe and out of sight.

Inflicting more harsh and humiliating lashes against his former subordinate, he cackled. “I’ll admit, your powers are quite the bane of normal men, but they’re useless against me. A giant squid’s body is malleable enough to withstand deep sea pressure, yet powerful enough to fight a sperm whale! It also makes physical blows practically useless. And while squid might not be quite as notorious escape artists as octopi, this flexible body makes your cage and shackles little more than temporary inconveniences. But escape isn’t my plan.”

Before both women’s eyes, Harpin began to transform again, this time growing larger and larger, his whole body becoming that of an enormous squid that took up nearly a third of the room. Each arm was now at least ten feet long and over a foot thick, with the clubbed feeding tentacles extending to nearly fifteen feet. Black, watery eyes swelled to the size of beach balls, and the disturbing beak grew to the point where it could easily crush a melon in its jaws.

Oh, right, Nami thought, cold terror freezing her lungs. Zoan-type Devil Fruit users can fully transform into their animal.

Quick as a whip, one arm wrapped itself around the dazed Hina, the powerful limb pinning down her arms while sharp suckers latched into the skin. The long silk gown allowed her legs some protection, but only from the chitin; the tentacle itself twined about her entire body until she was completely trapped, squeezing so tightly Nami could hear some of the Marine’s bones pop.

“You should have just been a good girl and agreed to be my secretary instead of hiding behind Sengoku,” he said, voice even more distorted now that his mouth was mainly beak. He dragged her close so he could glare at her through one massive, soggy eye. “I would have treated you nicely—given you more than you deserve. All you had to do was look pretty, spread your legs, and know your place!”

Hina bit down on her cries of pain as Harpin gave her another squeeze, laughing at her attempts to remain defiant. “Pity you had to play so hard to get, Hina-chan. At least Smoker won’t have to mourn you long; he’ll join you in Hell once I’ve finished ripping him to pieces!”

“Fuck…you,” she gasped out, glaring down at the hideous creature even as her bones creaked in his powerful grasp.

Looking on, Nami knew Hina was outmatched, and there was little that the Straw Hat navigator could do to help her. It was better to take the chance to run and live, maybe even find Smoker and tell him to help his friend, as unlikely as it would be that he’d get to her in time. Besides, if she didn’t get out now, she’d be next, and if Hina did manage to beat him, all she could count on a one-way trip to Impel Down.

But that pink hair, cigarette, and determination was just far too familiar, and Nami always had a soft spot for female Marines. Plus, she did owe her for the earlier rescue.

“Thunder Ball!” she shouted, launching a barrage of small electric bolts at the giant squid. She knew it wouldn’t do as much damage as a concentrated lightning strike, but it was just enough to distract him, keeping Hina from getting crushed.

Harpin let out what Nami assumed were yelps of pain before he turned his full attention on her. Grey skin sizzled slightly where the shocks had hit—his skin was rubbery, but it wasn’t rubber. Unlike Luffy, Harpin clearly still took damage from electricity. Nami didn’t have time to gloat, though, as one of the clubbed tentacles raised itself high before swinging down, slamming into the floor right in front of the safe, missing the thief as she dodged just in time.

The force of the blow, combined with the time Nami had been standing on the pressure tile, activated the trapped suit of armor, releasing the halberd from the knight’s grasp to fall onto the massive limb. The sharp blade didn’t quite slice all the way through the slimy club, but it did open a deep gash, blue blood gushing out.

“You bitch!” the giant squid cried, pulling the wounded arm back to inspect the cut, shocked that one of his own traps had been used against him.

Cat-like smile stretched across her face, Nami replied, “Oh, that’s nothing. Didn’t I say there would be thunderstorms tonight? Well, it’s not over yet!”

“Are you seriously—” Harpin began, only to be interrupted by a low rumble from above.

As he looked up, a bolt of lightning came down from the forgotten cloud, striking through the center of the arm constricting Hina as it connected to the Clima-Tact. “Thunder Lance Tempo!”

Once more the foul scent of sizzling sea creature filled her nose, and the concentrated electrical blast was just enough to cripple the limb holding Hina, the blackened flesh smoking and oozing blood in places. A horrific scream of agony rang out from the creature, the closest equivalent she could think of being nails on chalkboard. The limb wasn’t severed like Nami’d hoped, but while it still gripped the captive Marine, her face was much more relaxed, the crushing pressure significantly lessened as it flopped on the floor.

However, the Cat Thief now had a new problem; Harpin was hurt, furious, and his enormous, hateful eyes were fixated squarely on her.

Before she could hide herself or cast another lightning strike she was scooped up by a different tentacle, its grip ten times stronger than before, the serrated suckers the size of peach stones and digging deeper into her skin. She didn’t have Hina’s restraint, screaming as he maliciously began crushing her chest, bit by bit squeezing the life out of her.

“You worthless, stupid, wicked twat!” he snarled, bringing her so close Nami could see her pained, terrified reflection in his watery eye. “I’ll make you pay for that! You should have run while you had the chance! Now who’s going to save you, pirate whore?!”

The answer came in the form of Law and Smoker crashing through the windows, the Marine’s thick smoke clouds wrapped around the surgeon’s waist while their weapons locked in a stalemate. Trapped in the smoke were two large barrels of gunpowder. Shattered glass from the windows floated through the air, forcing Smoker to shield his eyes, giving Law an opening to punch him in the jaw, causing him to fling the pirate and the barrels deeper into the room.

Switching his body and the tumbling barrels with debris, Law smirked up at his opponent, patting one of the bombs as it settled next to him. “Gonna have to try harder than that to get these away from me, White Chase-ya.”

“I’m gonna tear your fucking head off, Trafalgar!” Smoker countered still wiping away the glass. His suit was shredded and smoldering faintly in some places while his jitte had a few scorch marks on it. Law must have taken the bombs meant for the third distraction to use against the Marine. Nami had been so caught up dealing with the Baron she hadn’t even noticed they’d never gone off.

Panting lightly, the Heart Captain brandished his cane sword, preparing to strike, only to pause as he took in the state of the room. He’d lost his mask and coat at some point and his lip was bleeding, but at least he was in one piece. More importantly, once he saw what kind of situation Nami had gotten herself into, he used his powers to switch her with one of the barrels.

She barely had time to regain her footing before he ordered, “Nami-ya, a spark to light the fuse, please.”

“Screw the fuse,” she gasped, gulping down air. Her Thunder Lance Tempo crashed through the wooden barrel, quickly setting off the explosive powder, making Harpin bellow as the tentacle was reduced to nothing more than a stump, enormous body flailing backwards to avoid the flames and shrapnel from damaging his face.

At the sound, Law finally gave the creature attached to the tentacle a good look, color draining from his face at the massive sea monster. “Well shit,” he said as he pushed her behind him, ready to fend off further tentacle strikes. “He’s actually a Devil Fruit user.”

“You owe me so much money for this!” Nami practically sobbed in relief, clutching the back of his vest.

“I’ll pay you when we don’t have a fucking squid monster trying to kill us.”

“And who the hell are you?” Harpin snapped, furious that his prey had been snatched from his sticky grasp once again.

“No one,” Law answered coolly, expanding his Room and slashing at the tentacle whipping towards them. It fell to the ground, wiggling and twitching, and Nami sent another blast of lightning at it for good measure.

“The fuck is Trafalgar Law doing with Cat Thief Nami?” Smoker growled to Hina as he slammed his jitte into the tentacle restraining her, the Seastone tip forcing it to go limp as Harpin howled in pain. Once he’d managed to clear the glass from his eyes, he too had decided aiding his companion was a higher priority than taking out his opponent.

“Are you surprised?” she asked dryly as she peeled the suckers from her skin, wincing at the rings left behind. “Perhaps saving Straw Hats is his new hobby.”

“Well, put them in a cage so we can focus on kicking Harpin’s ass!” he snapped as a shadow fell across him.

“Thunder Lance Tempo!” he heard the female pirate cry out, and he whipped around, ready to defend himself, when he was blinded by a lightning bolt flashing right in front of his face.

When the blotchy spots cleared from his vision, Smoker looked down to find a sizzling lump of squid flesh at his feet, the rest of the tentacle gingerly dragging the mangled tip away.

Hina gave Nami a grateful smile, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. “I only have so much energy and would rather let a few pirates gain a one-day head start if it means taking down a man who’s been leaking government secrets.”

Smoker’s eyes widened in comprehension, then narrowed in annoyance. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

Rather than hear out their argument, Nami urgently tugged Law’s vest. “I think the Navy’s got this covered. They don’t need us getting in their way.”

The way the line of his mouth hardened indicated he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, however, when he noticed the three hardcover ledgers she’d scooped off the floor, he nodded in acceptance. Grabbing her free arm, he turned towards the door, but Harpin was already two steps ahead of them, a massive tentacle batting the safe off its pressure-sensitive tile as easily as a cat would tip over a glass of water. Iron grates shot down over the entrance and windows, cutting off their escape routes.

Before Law could use his Room to bypass the gate, another tentacle whipped forward, smashing into his spine and knocking him into a wall, dragging Nami along with him. It was only sheer instinct that allowed him to turn midair and shield the smaller pirate from the hard impact, but as she reoriented herself, she immediately began to panic.

“Law!” Nami shouted, frantically checking to make sure he was breathing. “Oh, God, please tell me you’re alright!”

“Fuck,” he hissed, cracking an eye open as his teeth grit against the pain.

At least he’s alive, she thought, heart thundering in her chest. “Can you move? Is anything broken?”

Despite the obvious distress he was in, he gave a weak smirk. “And here I thought I was the doctor.”

Behind them, Nami could hear Smoker shout “White Blow!” a sickening, squishy sound filling her ears as the blast made impact with Harpin’s rubbery head. Glancing over her shoulder, she found the Marine standing in front of her, thick white smoke billowing from his arms, the dense clouds wrapping around the flailing tentacles like manacles. “Hina, if we live through this, you’re buying me dinner! All you can eat seafood!”

“Fine, but I’ll skip the calamari,” Hina coughed, slamming her Kimono Sleeve into the open wound of the pinned-down club, smirking slightly when the Baron let out a pained scream. The halberd’s gash hadn’t been deep, but even a creature resilient to physical strikes wouldn’t like a metal pole shoved inside a cut.

Unfortunately, their moment of victory didn’t last long, as Harpin had another trick up his sleeve; flexing his stomach, a spray of inky mist filled the room, blinding the quartet of humans, distracting both Smoker and Hina enough that Harpin was able to wiggle his way out of their traps.

“Hahaha! What are you going to do now?” the giant squid gloated, grunts of pain sounding from the pair of Marines. The floor shook as something repeatedly slammed into it, tiles cracking followed by more groans. “You can’t see me, but you’re all easy enough to find; squid are designed to hunt in virtual darkness!”

“Not much of an advantage when you take up half the room, you freaky bastard,” Law wheezed.

Though she couldn’t see her companion, she could feel him gingerly trying pull himself into a sitting position beneath her. Ok, if he’s snarking, he should be ok, she assured herself as she blindly got to her feet. Muscle memory and familiarity allowed her to assemble her batons properly, and following Harpin’s maniacal laughter, Nami tossed her Clima-Tact in what she hoped was the right direction. “Cyclone Tempo!”

His angry shouts told her she’d hit her mark, and with the ink cleared from the air, she was able to blink away the black film that formed over her eyes. Vision cleared, she was startled to find both Smoker and Hina in his grasp, the serrated rings in his suckers puncturing their skin, the muscular tentacles squeezing them like a pair of toothpaste tubes. Smoker looked far worse for wear, and she understood why as the squid bashed him against the floor like a child trying to break a toy soldier during a tantrum.

Seeing the lone thief before him, Harpin laughed again, taking a break from abusing his former subordinate. “Seems it’s my lucky night; all my problems will be solved in one fell swoop! I can frame Trafalgar Law for Smoker and Hina-chan’s murders and for those little information leaks—the World Government will be happy to pin the blame on him over one of their own, especially if it means I won’t release some rather scandalous information to Big News Morgans. Those charges against me will be dropped in no time!” he cried joyously, a third arm plucking Law from the rubble behind Nami, giving all three of his victims a harsh squeeze. “Add in the arrest of all those pathetic fishermen and their families for ‘aiding’ the Heart Pirates, and I’ll finally have my beautiful island all to myself! No more low-class trash or eyesore shanties—just beautiful women and fancy parties!”

His enormous eyes zeroed in on his final opponent. “That just leaves you, Nami-chan. Since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you a choice; be handed over to the Navy with your boyfriend or stay as my pretty plaything. After the trouble you’ve caused me, I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, but I can assure you, it’ll be better than what they’ll have in store for you at Impel Down.”

As Law, Smoker, and Hina cried out in pain from the crushing pressure of Harpin’s grip, Nami ran through her options. The choices he’d offered weren’t even worth considering. She couldn’t run; even if she weren’t trapped, she couldn’t just leave Law and the two Marines to their fates, nor risk Harpin framing the innocent villagers for an attack they weren’t involved in. Bargaining was pointless as the Baron held all the cards. Nami considered pleading for mercy, but she was positive that it would do nothing but stoke the squid’s massive ego and possibly sign herself up for an even worse fate—if Harpin was willing to blackmail his own companions, who was to say he wouldn’t force her to commit any number of depraved acts for the sake of her companions’ lives?

Spying the remaining two barrels of gunpowder, she came to a decision. With a shout of “Cyclone Tempo!” she launched them at him, pleased when he instinctively knocked them aside with his last pair of uninjured tentacles. She had no intention of setting them off; there was too much of a chance that the others would get caught in the explosion.

They did, however, distract Harpin enough to let her dash the twenty feet she needed to reach the entrance.

“Did you forget about the gate, stupid girl?” he called mockingly as he realized where she’d run.

Instead of answering verbally, Nami smirked as she stomped her foot down on one of the tiles in the third row, praying that the mechanisms hadn’t been damaged during the battle.

The result was better than she could have hoped; a Seastone net the size of the room itself plummeted from the ceiling, smashing into the huge, hideous creature, narrowly missing Nami as she sprang back and squeezed her small body against the grate, taking advantage of the narrow shelter provided by the threshold. Loud groans from the four Devil Fruit users rang out, all their strengths sapped but the thick tentacles around the three humans loosening, their rubbery bulk also providing ample protection against the force of the heavy net.

“Cat Thief, I’m not sure if I hate you more or less than your captain right now,” Smoker wheezed. His forehead was bleeding, his nose looked broken, and his beefy body would probably be one big bruise in the morning, but he was still alive.

“Be grateful,” Nami panted, walking out into the room to collect the black ledgers. “Luffy would have punched him through the floor; I at least left the room intact.”

Either the Gods of Dramatic Irony decided such a statement couldn’t be left alone or Luffy had died and his ghost was haunting her, but beneath her feet, thin fissures began to form.

“Smoker,” Hina asked softly, “you memorized the blueprints of the mansion. What’s below us?”

Briefly, Law and Smoker shared a guilty glance. “The art gallery. Which Trafalgar and I might have briefly…tussled in.”

“Tussled?”

“I may have bashed his head into a potentially load-bearing pillar or two.”

“And I may have cut a few more,” Law added weakly.

As the cracks grew wider, Hina sighed. “And of course, below that is the spa, which has surely sustained massive water damage by now due to Smoker breaking the pipes.”

There was no way to deny it—from the battles to the bombs to the sabotage, the structural integrity of the room had been compromised. Comical tears streamed down Nami’s face as she collapsed to her knees. “We’re all gonna die.”

Trapped as they all were, there was no choice but to watch the cracks grow larger and larger before the floor finally broke apart like a jigsaw puzzle. Harpin’s much heavier bulk mixed with the force of gravity caused him to smash through the floors of two more ceilings, finally crashing into the first floor. His squishy body did provide ample cushioning for the Cat Thief, though, as she bounced off his elastic head, landing hard but safely on the floor.

When the smoke cleared, Nami realized that they’d landed at the far end of the ballroom. Most of the guests had chosen to use the room as a shelter instead of evacuating and possibly facing what they believed to be an angry mob of villagers, but Reginald had managed to herd them all into the corner closest to the entrance where it was safest, and conveniently away from the spot Harpin’s hulking form had landed.

Luck was once again briefly on the pirates’ side as the fall had also managed to dislodge Law from both the tentacle and the net, freeing him. Tired, dirty, but not as badly injured as assumed, he unsteadily got to his feet, grinning slightly when Nami immediately rushed to his side, juggling the books under her arm, ready to catch him if he fell.

“Are you ok?”

“Better than I was under the Seastone net,” he assured. “That was quick thinking back there. I’m just sorry you had to face him alone.”

“Is the crew ok?”

“Shachi’s team has some pretty bad injuries, but Penguin’s was able to evacuate them while I took on White Chase.”

She let out a sigh of relief. Of course he hadn’t abandoned her; the others had just been in more immediate danger. He wouldn’t have even left her in the first place if he hadn’t known they needed his help. And once he saw she was in trouble, he’d immediately saved her and was even apologizing for the fact that he hadn’t been there sooner.

He wasn’t Luffy, but she was grateful her temporary captain had her back.

Grey eyes shifted towards the small red circles that littered Nami’s skin, and she could see him taking stock of her various minor injuries. His glare intensified as it landed on the smaller rings wrapped around her upper thighs, his highly intelligent brain easily deducing what she’d gone through while he’d been off fighting Smoker. “Since we’re back in the ballroom, I guess I get to play the part of ‘jealous boyfriend’ again,” he said lowly, dark tone sending a shiver down her spine.

“What?”

Pulling out of her grasp, he nodded to the books under her arm. “Hold onto those while I thank the Baron for his hospitality; I’ve got just enough strength for two more big techniques.”

Bad as their own states were, their host was far worse off, the Seastone net still twisted around his bulbous head, pinning him to the floor as Hina and Smoker lay barely conscious in his limp tentacles. His beachball-sized eyes glared at the two pirates that had ruined his plans before bulging further as his guests began screaming in horror.

“Dear god, what is that thing?!” a woman cried, pointing at their host.

“What kind of monster has Harpin been keeping?”

“Gerald, must you show that form in public?” Beatrix shouted, appalled.

“Miss Bellemere, is that you?” Reginald called out. He must have recognized her mask, or at least Law standing next to her. His eyes widened as he took in her infamous tattoo and mikan hair. “Gracious, you’re a pirate?”

Somehow, despite the giant squid that had crashed through the ceiling, it was the word “pirate” that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

“Pirates are leading the villagers’ rebellion!”

“No, they must have murdered the townspeople and are now here for us!”

“Where are those Marines?”

“They’re trapped under the net with that monster!”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of this!” Kujakumaru shouted, grabbing Law’s fallen cane sword and lunging at Nami.

Exhausted though she was, she still had the strength to sidestep the untrained fop, tripping him before smacking him over the head with her Clima-Tact.

“Nice one,” Law chuckled as he staggered over to Harpin’s pinned form, a sadistic grin on his face as he stared down at the trapped former Intelligence Officer. “Weaklings like him are lucky to be left alive.”

“Law?” Nami murmured in concern, hovering slightly.

Glancing over his shoulder at her, Law’s eyes were filled with wicked excitement and pride. “I said I had the energy for two more techniques, didn’t I? Well, I’ve been looking for a decent subject to test this first one on. So good of Harpin to donate his body to science.”

Before Nami could reason with him to use his powers to get them out of there, a small blade of green, crackling energy formed in his hand. Without even a moment of hesitation, he stabbed it into Harpin’s big, watery eye.

“Gamma Knife!”

A violent tremor rocked the giant squid’s rubbery body as Harpin let out a truly inhuman shriek of agony, blue blood exploding from his beak before going completely still, the spark of life visibly fading in his eyes.

When Law started to sway, Nami grabbed him around the waist, looping his arm over her shoulder and letting him lean on her for support. “What was that?” she asked, voice somewhere between horror and awe.

Panting, he replied, “An attack I’ve been working on. Completely destroys the body from the inside. Figured it was the best way to finish that creep, since external damage wasn’t doing the job.”

Inside, she was torn. Harpin had been a monster, a lecherous creep, an asshole, and a very real danger to the world, Navy and Pirates alike, with the information he had. Even with Smoker and Hina’s testimonies and the ledgers as proof, his extensive connections with the World Government and Underworld meant there was no guarantee that, if left alive, he’d really pay for his crimes.

But in her entire time sailing with Luffy, she’d never seen her captain kill anyone. Not Arlong, Enel, or Crocodile. He left them a broken, bloody mess, dreams destroyed and helpless as the Navy sent them off to prison, but alive. The Straw Hat captain was a reckless fool and a pirate, but he wasn’t a murderer.

Law had just killed a man like it was nothing.

A little part of her wondered if he’d always been planning on taking Baron Harpin Gerald’s life, or if seeing the painful and suggestive marks on her skin had sealed his fate.

Conflicted as her feelings were, Nami didn’t allow her hold to loosen as Law slumped a little harder against her. She could feel his body tremble, his breath coming out in short, staggering pants, his heart pounding beneath her hand.

It seemed her unflinching support was appreciated, as Law gave a tired wink as he activated his Room, spreading it so widely she had to look out the window to see the faint blue edge at the far side of the island.

“What’s he doing?”

“Oh my God, he’s the Surgeon of Death!”

“We’re all going to die!”

Taking a deep breath, Law ignored the crowd’s panicked cries, softly murmuring, “Scan. Shambles.”

In a blink, the duo was whisked from the ballroom to the other side of the island, the Polar Tang waiting in the cove, the rest of the Heart Pirates immediately rushing forward to check on their captain. Law waved off their concerned questions, but Nami shrieked as she was dragged down to the sandy ground as he collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. Now she understood why he’d been against using his powers until necessary; doing all that on such a large scale, plus his fights with Smoker and Harpin, was draining.

Her concern only distracted her for so long, though. As she looked around, she realized they were surrounded by solid gold statues, jewelry, the buffet, the ledgers, and blessedly, her dress, leather wallets spilling out of the hidden pockets. Gleeful that not only were they alive but that he’d kept his promise, her grip around him shifted into a grateful hug, her lips unconsciously brushing against his cheek in thanks.

Law opened one exhausted eye. “Everyone start loading up the loot.” The last syllable barely left his lips before his eyes rolled back and he completely passed out in Nami’s arms, head lolling until it was squished against the Cat Thief’s chest.

“Captain!” the crew cried out.

Terrified that she might be holding a corpse, Nami pressed her fingers to his neck, heaving a massive sigh of relief when she felt a steady pulse. “He’s alive,” she assured the hovering pirates, attempting to shift the dead weight of their captain so he didn’t smother himself in her cleavage.

“Holy crap, Nami, you both look like shit!” Ikkaku said as she kneeled down to help, too concerned to even tease her about the fact that she hadn’t even hit Law for using her breasts as a pillow.

“It’s been a long night,” she sighed as they finally managed to maneuver him so he was lying flat on the ground. As if annoyed at the loss of his comfortable headrest, his brow furrowed briefly, but after a moment smoothed out as he fully succumbed to his exhaustion.

There was still work to be done, though, and Nami accepted her roommate’s proffered hand, letting her pull her to her feet. With a quick glance around, she raised an eyebrow. “Hey, there’s no way we can eat everything from the buffet before it goes bad. Load up what you can, but before we go, do you think you can help me get some of these leftovers to the town?”

“The Marines will be swarming the place within an hour.”

“Harpin’s call for backup was already denied and Smoker and Hina were barely conscious when we left. Even if they did wake up, they’re going to have their hands full up at the mansion. I don’t think we have to worry for a while yet.” Despite her stinging cuts, sore muscles, and flagging energy, Nami gave a cat-like grin. “In the meantime, the food’ll make an excellent bribe to convince the townsfolk not to tell them about these caves.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Ikkaku simply replied, “Whatever you say, Nami.”

XXX

Several hours later Nami staggered into her quarters, only pausing to check that all three black-bound ledgers were still on her desk before letting out a sigh of relief and collapsing into the vanity’s plush chair. The work had been non-stop; they’d been short-staffed in terms of loading up the treasure into the cargo hold. Even Nami had been roped into partaking in physical labor, barely even given enough time to drop off her dress and the ledgers and change into more sensible footwear before she’d been put to work.

It couldn’t be helped. The majority of Shachi’s group was recovering in the infirmary, the second mate’s wounds the worst with a broken arm and three cracked ribs. Bepo had seen him try to take on Smoker by himself to protect the others, and according to the bear, he’d be far worse off if Law hadn’t arrived in time to save him.

Speaking of, while Law could have moved all the food and treasure in an instant, it was universally agreed that they weren’t going to wait around for him to regain consciousness just so he could overuse his powers again. Penguin had even insisted on carrying him to his quarters before heading to infirmary to act as interim doctor, the First Mate piggybacking the taller man awkwardly, but refusing any help. It had been kind of sweet, watching him take such a big-brother role, and it confirmed in her mind that the crew cared for each other just as much as the Straw Hats did.

At least her own injuries hadn’t been too debilitating, and once they’d gotten everything they could into the ship Ikkaku had roped Bepo, Jean-Bart, and Clione into helping transport the remaining food into the town. Late as the evening was, the villagers had been absolutely in shock as they stumbled out of their shacks, staring at the massive feast that had been laid out before them. Several had even rubbed their eyes in disbelief, clearly thinking it was some kind of dream. Once they realized what was actually happening, though, the whole town had let out a cheer, and Nami had been blessed with a hug from the little girl from earlier, the child recognizing the thief’s jewelry and mischievous smile.

Nami was a bit sad to have to leave, as the townsfolk had asked the pirates to stay and celebrate the Baron’s downfall, but the navigator wasn’t going to squander that one-day head-start Hina had promised and had immediately ordered Jean-Bart to get them out into the open sea. Once Tokken Island was nothing more than a speck in the distance, she’d handed the reigns over to Bepo; he’d shyly informed her that Law had discussed an escape route and destination before the mission had even started.

Now she was back in her room, finally able to take a moment to herself. Ikkaku would be gone at least a few more hours; she’d insisted on monitoring the engine, making sure the additional weight of the treasure wouldn’t put too much strain on the ship. She’d given the hickey on Nami’s neck a meaningful look, though, and the navigator hadn’t even bothered trying to play it off as one of Harpin’s suction marks. Looking at it in the mirror, she knew that was the right call; only an idiot would assume the plum-colored blemish was in any way related to the bright red rings.

“Pervy jerk,” she grumbled, tearing her eyes from the hickey to focus on wiping off her makeup. “Maybe Ikkaku has a cute scarf I could borrow.”

A brief knock interrupted her musings, so she called out “Come in!” assuming it was Bepo asking for her input on their heading. To her surprise, it was Law who sidled through the door. He was once more in his normal hoodie and spotted jeans, colored contacts gone, dark circles proudly visible under his eyes. The black hair dye was still in, but it would likely be fully washed out and back to its original midnight blue in no more than a week.

“Here for your hat?” Nami asked, indicating the black-spotted accessory on the bed. She’d noticed it when she’d dropped off her things and had planned on returning it in the morning. Even she wasn’t mean enough to disturb an exhausted swordsman just to get his hat out of her room.

Plopping the fuzzy accessory onto his head, Law stood behind the back of her chair, pulling something from his jeans pocket. “Among other things.”

The cool touch of gold made goosebumps rise across her collarbone, and she gasped as she recognized Beatrix’s extravagant, heart-shaped diamond necklace as it settled against her throat.

“Is this—?”

“Let it never be said Dr. Goodheart doesn’t spoil his woman,” he chuckled in her ear as he secured the delicate clasp behind her neck. “Consider it my payment for being my date tonight. I estimate that yellow diamond alone is worth at least ten times the forty-five million belli I accrued for three hours of your company. You can count the other thirty diamonds as reparations for dealing with such a shit host.”

Unbidden, a tiny smile came to her lips. She was good at reading between the lines, and this was definitely Law’s way of begging forgiveness for the absolute shitshow she’d endured because he’d left. To be honest, it wasn’t necessary. After hearing about the state Shachi was in, she couldn’t bring herself to blame him—if that had been Usopp or Sanji or Robin, she’d have done the same.

Not that she was going to let him know that. He might take the necklace back.

“Hmmm, I guess it’s acceptable,” she replied coyly, admiring herself in the mirror. The diamonds sparkled elegantly in the light, the pale yellow heart resting precisely in the divot of her collarbone. “Though with all the chaos, I’m impressed even thought to grab it when we left.”

Behind her, Law’s wide grin was devious and self-satisfied. “Oh, no, I grabbed it when I set the curtain on fire. Even if I came away with nothing else, I was making damn sure I got this after that crazy bitch had the gall to insult you.”

Oddly flattered that he’d put in the effort to get her such a luxurious gift and revenge on the woman who’d dared to call her “cheap,” Nami gave him a soft, genuine smile. She wouldn’t even sell it, since he was being so sweet. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

“You carry it better than she does, anyway,” he replied, thumb idly rubbing little circles on her shoulders. “I think you should wear it to the next party.”

Without the gloves, his hands were deliciously warm against her skin and it was oddly nice to see the tattoos on his fingers again. Like the bags under his eyes, they were such a familiar part of him that she’d unconsciously begun to miss. “Hard pass. Tonight was a clusterfuck, and I think I’ll stick to hitting bars. At least there I can beat the crap out of the horny assholes dumb enough to grope me.”

“Fair.” Carefully turning her chair around, he pulled a small first-aid kit out of his hoodie pocket. From the little white box he removed some gauze, antiseptic, and medical tape. Pouring a bit of the clear alcohol onto a small square of white cotton, he gently dabbed at the scabbed-over cuts on her clavicle. “I promised I’d clean these up when we got back to the ship, and I wanted to get a better look at those suction marks. Did you even bother getting these checked over earlier?” he scolded.

Red crept across her face as she realized she’d completely forgotten about her own injuries. “Shachi’s team needed the medical attention way more than me; I figured I could wait until they were out of the woods.” She winced as the sting of alcohol irritated Beatrix’s claw marks but knew better than to complain.

“Of course. It had nothing to do with you being distracted by piles of treasure.” After carefully taping a wide gauze bandage over the cuts, he turned his attention to the sucker marks. His frown darkened as he got a better look at the rings across her thighs. “In the interest of doing my job as your doctor, I have to ask; were all the injuries you received from Harpin external, or should I scan you for internal trauma?”

Her eyes widened and the blood drained from her cheeks as she registered what he was suggesting. “No I…I’m fine. He didn’t…I mean, he groped me and I’m sure if Hina hadn’t arrived—”

Law held up his hand, halting her uncomfortable stammering. “Again, I’m truly sorry you had to deal with him on your own. I knew he was a creep and a pervert, but I swear I thought he was a normal human—someone you could hold off on your own if necessary.”

“It’s ok,” she assured, anxiously rubbing her arms. She really didn’t want to dwell on what Harpin could have done to her if Hina hadn’t shown up. Given the Marine’s willingness to release her from his lecherous grasp, Nami wondered if she’d been in that position herself, or at least seen comrades treated similarly. After all, he had at least a hundred reported accusations of sexual harassment against him. The Navy really needed to stop giving such monsters seats of power. “I guess I should be flattered that you had faith in me to take out a former Marine officer.”

“I promise to never make that mistake again. Once things have settled down, we’re beginning combat training. Your weather attacks are impressive, but they won’t work in every situation,” he said seriously as he turned his focus to her wrists. Taking a silver tube out of his hoodie’s pocket, he squirted a small amount of thick, grey cream into his palm before massaging it into the thumbprint-sized rings. Cool and slightly minty, Nami could immediately feel it begin to soothe her sore muscles and stinging marks.

“I’m pretty sure the odds are good that we’ll never run into another squid-guy,” she joked weakly.

“True, and I suppose he could have been so much worse.”

“How?”

“Did you know several species of squid are cannibals?”

Stomach churning in disgust, her mind frantically fought against the images that tried to wrestle their way into the forefront of her mind. “Ew ew ew! Oh god, how do you even know that?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement as he worked the cream into the larger circles on her upper arms. “When you spend a lot of time in a submarine, one of the main ways to pass the time is studying the habits of underwater creatures. Clione’s even started writing a book about some of the things we’ve seen.”

“Ugh! Remind me to never read it!”

Squeezing another dollop of cream into his palm, he chuckled. “I make no such promise as his research has been extremely beneficial. Right now, he’s studying a skin and blood sample from one of my own sucker marks to be safe, but he assures me that giant squid aren’t venomous. I am ordering you to report any dizziness, shortness of breath, swelling, or other unusual symptoms, though.”

“Fine,” she sighed as he let go of her arms to crouch between her legs. She jerked violently as his long fingers wrapped around her calf, leg kicking out while her heart hammered against her chest with instinctual panic. With the cream coating his skin, the sensation was far too similar to the texture of Harpin’s tentacles slithering across her flesh. Law must have drawn a similar conclusion, as he mumbled an apology, holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.

Nami immediately felt guilty and mentally berated herself. Sure, Law could be forward, but she knew he was no threat compared to Harpin. Yes, he flirted and stared, but if the disgust he showed towards the mere possibility that she’d been sexually assaulted was anything to go by, he wasn’t that kind of threat. She had no reason to be afraid of him.

Taking a few calming breaths, she met his eyes, nodding down at her leg. “It’s fine. Go ahead, doctor.”  

As if she were a skittish doe, he slowly and cautiously placed his hand on her shin, pleased when she remained completely still, even though he could still feel the tension in her muscles. Slow and gentle, he focused on massaging it into her left calf with both hands, keeping his hands where she could see them.

“So,” he began, glancing up at her from his place on the floor, “where are you taking me for dinner?”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, eyes locked on the way his fingers splayed out and he rubbed careful, broad circles over each contusion. It seemed he was doing everything he could to make his hands feel as different from the invasive tentacles as possible.

“The dinner you owe me for losing the bet.”

“Fucking excuse you?” she snapped, sitting up straight in her chair so she could properly glare down at him.

A dark eyebrow raised in challenge, though only amusement danced in his amber eyes. “You only got seven wallets before escaping the ballroom. That means you’re paying for our victory dinner.”

“Um, no, I grabbed six more as I ran out,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Did you really?”

“Yes!”

“Too bad you can’t prove it.”

“My word’s enough!”

“It’s absolutely adorable that you think I’d trust your word when money’s on the line.”

Furious though she was, she knew he had a point and she really couldn’t prove that she which wallets were stolen when, so she switched tactics. “That reminds me; you owe me an extra fifty million belli for your shitty intel, and no, the necklace doesn’t count towards that.”

“Do you accept gold bars?”

She blinked, surprised. “Um, sure.”

A narrow shoulder lifted in a relaxed shrug “Then you’ll get your payment after I get that ugly-ass squid statue melted down on Knox Island.”

“You grabbed that?” She’d noticed a few gold statues being loaded up, but in the excitement of all that treasure, she hadn’t really registered that it was the one from Harpin’s office.

“I decided I deserved a bonus for everything I’ve put up with tonight, though I grabbed just about everything of value I could. Even if we couldn’t fit it all in the cargo hold, stealing and scattering Harpin’s possessions throughout the island will make it harder for the authorities to figure out what we actually took until after we’ve sold it.”

“Good thinking.”

His smug grin made it clear he knew exactly how clever he was. A more liberal dollop of cream filled his palm, and without even asking he began massaging it into her right thigh. It only then registered that throughout their argument, he’d finished treating both her calves without her even noticing, if the cool tingle dancing across her skin was anything to go by. He’d easily managed to distract her from his actions, and she must have unconsciously gotten used to the feeling of his hands on her legs, as she barely twitched when his calloused palms touched her.

Unfortunately, she now had a different problem—he was intimately close, hands thoroughly rubbing the cream into the sensitive flesh of her thighs, and hot blood immediately rushed to her cheeks as she took in the picture the handsome captain made kneeling between her spread legs.

“What is that stuff, anyway?” she asked, trying to keep herself distracted, though this time for very different reasons.

“It’s a special salve I developed. It soothes the pain, plus speeds up the healing process. I’ve found it’s damn good on welts, bruises, contusions, and other unseemly blemishes.”

“How do you make it?”

“It’s plant-based, actually. I found a unique type of aloe on a jungle island, among several other interesting medicinal plants. That’s actually why I’m so invested in your greenhouse idea; I’d like to plant some of the seeds so I can replenish my stores once they run low.”

He may be a pirate, but he definitely takes his medical duties seriously, she thought with a hint of fondness.

Nami noticed then that, despite how suggestive his position was and how risqué the area he was massaging the thick cream into might have been, his actions were cold and clinical. He was in full-on doctor mode, all his focus on treating a patient.

It also didn’t escape her attention that, once more, he didn’t seem to be moved by the amount of skin on display. She was still in her skimpy bodysuit, and considering how many times she’d caught Uni, Clione, and others staring at her and sporting nosebleeds, she knew she looked sexy as hell, even with the sucker marks. She knew he wasn’t as easily impressed by women as the others, but did he find the marks that repulsive? Maybe the others just hadn’t been able to properly see them in the moonlight, or they’d been too fixated on her chest to notice.

Except Law also didn’t seem to be flirting with her as much as she’d expected. Hadn’t even teased her about the kiss, or even seemed aware that he’d passed out on her boobs earlier. Was he too focused to bother? Too tired? Or was he just not interested now that she was practically naked?

Deciding to test the waters as he switched to her other thigh, she quipped, “I don’t suppose that stuff works on hickeys, does it?”

“Oh, there’s not a chance in Hell this stuff’s going anywhere near your neck,” he said, glancing up at her with a tired but devilish smile. “I worked hard on that mark, and you’re going to wear it with pride.”

Ok, that was more like the Law she’d gotten used to, annoying as he was. “No, I’m going to slather it with concealer until it goes away on its own.”

His hands stilled their motions as his voice dropped an octave. “If I think you’ve put even a speck of makeup on that hickey, Nami-ya, I may have to leave something a little more…obvious.”

She swallowed hard, red tinging her cheeks. She wasn’t quite she what he had in mind, but she knew better than to ask when he started to get that hungry glint in his eyes. After all, if the hickey was payback for her sunburn prank, his punishment for covering it up was probably the kind of kinky shit Robin had told her about after a few too many glasses of wine on girls’ night.

Forcing away those kinds of thoughts, she huffed, “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood from all the treasure we got.”

Salve thoroughly worked into her skin, Law finally stood. “Things might not have gone exactly as I planned, but in the end, I’d call tonight a success.” He strolled over to her desk, picking up the black ledger marked “Intel,” casually thumbing through it with a pleased grin. “Especially since we got what we came for. More, even.” He tsked sarcastically, grin stretching wider as he took in the various reports and formulas. “Look at all this classified information. The Navy should really send us a thank-you card for taking this away from an unscrupulous bastard like Harpin. I mean, who knows what kind of chaos could be stirred up if it got leaked to the Underworld?”

The sharp, maniacal gleam in his eyes sent tremors down Nami’s spine. “It…definitely could cause problems.”

“Absolutely. Imagine how people would react if they saw what Vegapunk and his subordinates got up to? Why, there’s a whole chapter here on the experiments performed on Punk Hazard—looks like a scientist named Caesar created a chemical weapon that nearly destroyed the whole island. And look,” he chuckled, turning the book to show Nami a complicated chemical formula, “there’s even a recipe.”

It suddenly dawned on Nami that as dangerous as such intel was with Harpin, Law might not be much better. He wasn’t like Luffy, who was too good-natured and direct to even consider using such backhanded means against the Navy. Nor was he like Arlong, who would have been too stupid to understand the scientific intel and instead focused on selling the blackmail. Robin and Franky were smart enough to understand and potentially use it, but they had the morals not to, especially if their captain was against it.

Law was intelligent, ambitious, connected, and unscrupulous. It was clear he had some sort of plan for what was in those books, and Nami wasn’t sure she liked it. These weren’t just military codes or dossiers on shichibukai.

This was the kind of stuff that could start an arms race.

White teeth sank into her lower lip. “Considering how dangerous that information is, then, I think we should get rid of those ledgers.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, Hina may have only been specifically ordered to retrieve his blackmail materials, but Harpin was already being investigated for leaking classified intel to the Underworld—if the Navy thinks we took more than just gold, they’ll send every Fleet Admiral after us with extreme prejudice. We’re better off dumping them at a Marine base so they won’t consider us a threat.”

“Are you seriously saying you want me to give them back?” Gold eyes flashed with anger, and after hours of staring at the more muted grey, Nami found them all the more intense. She jumped when he slammed the book down onto the desk. “I did not fight a giant squid and nearly get my crew killed for nothing!”

“Wha—it wasn’t nothing! We got all that treasure—”

So quick she could have sworn he used his powers, Law was back in front of her. Long, tattooed fingers harshly grasped the back of the chair, trapping her in her seat. “I’ve told you before; I don’t give a shit about money. The information in those books is more valuable to me than everything in that mansion combined,” he sneered.

Brown eyes widened at his change of tone as she shrank back, immediately on-guard as his threatening aura surrounded her. “Look, Law, I know it’s been a rough night, but you have to listen to me; we can’t let that intel out into the world. I hate the World Government just like any other pirate, but if the Underworld gets hold of those blueprints and formulas, they’re not going to just be used on Marines—innocent civilians will be caught in the crossfire. There will be massacres across the Grand Line, wars could start—”

Leaning in so close their noses nearly touched, his glaring irises filled her vision. “Innocent civilians also get slaughtered to cover up the World Government’s crimes. I’ve seen genocide carried out because of greedy bastards who would rather kill thousands than admit they’d poisoned an entire city. That’s just the way it is, Nami-ya; the weak don’t get to decide how they die.”

Manicured nails dug into the armrests. For a moment she considered backing down, but all she could imagine was all the inevitable death that would come if she allowed that intel to find its way into the wrong hands. Swallowing hard, she replied, “You…sound like you speak from experience. Are you saying that if someone could have stopped that massacre, you would have told them not to?”

“It might never have happened in the first place if the truth that Amber Lead wasn’t contagious hadn’t been covered up!”

She gasped. She’d heard about Amber Lead and the tragedy of Flevance, but was he saying there was more to it than the world had been told? It wouldn’t surprise her, but…

Wait, he’d said he’d published papers on the effects of lead poisoning in children, she thought with dawning understanding. Had he discovered some government conspiracy, some sanctioned cover-up that had led to the genocide of the White City during his research? Was that why he wanted to out their secrets? Why he became a pirate instead of a doctor?

“There’s a difference between releasing information about a disease and selling weapons, though,” she said quietly, desperately hoping her uncombative tone would calm him down. “If those ledgers have methods for curing a disease, by all means, spread the word, but you know as well as I do that the formula to a weaponized gas in the wrong hands will bring nothing but disaster. And if innocent lives aren’t enough to convince you, think of your crew; aside from the Navy coming after you, how do you know whoever you sell that formula to wouldn’t immediately use it to take you out? After all, you could easily play both sides and sell them out for double the profit. A smart man would see Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates as their biggest threat and act accordingly.”

The grip on the chair behind her audibly tightened, and Nami was reminded that this wasn’t Luffy, or Usopp, or even Zoro she was dealing with; Law was a pirate known for his sadism and didn’t have her nakama’s qualms against killing. For a brief, terrifying moment, she feared he might shift his hands to crush her throat, but after a few slow, calming breaths, he dropped his arms and backed away.

His tone was significantly lighter as he stated, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—I’m not looking to sell any of the intel in those books. Especially not the weapons research. It’s fascinating and will make for great bedtime reading, but at most it’s a passing curiosity. Something to entertain me on sleepless nights.”

“Then why go through all the trouble to get those ledgers?” she asked nervously.

“Because they have information I need to achieve my dream.”

“Information that’s worth the Navy and Underworld coming after you?”

The trademark smug smirk returned to his lips. “Concerned for my safety? I really must be growing on you.”

Pale hands fisted on her knees as she glared up at him. “After tonight, people are going to realize I’m sailing with the Heart Pirates; that means for the next year, your enemies are my enemies.”

“True, and we’re both smart enough to know that it’s better to avoid trouble.” As if sensing her need for more space, he backed up until he was leaning against her desk. “If you’re worried about Black Cage, I’m happy to compromise—we’ll take a photo of you burning the Personal ledger and send it to the nearest Navy base. That’s the one I’m the least interested in, and it should lower our threat level in their eyes.”

It wasn’t a bad plan. Blackmail and personal information on the Admirals was generally easier to sell and distribute than scientific research, as even a dummy could recognize their value. If the Marines saw they’d destroyed that, they’d likely assume they’d done the same with the rest so long as the secrets never got out. “What about the rest of it?”

“Like I said, I’m not looking to release anything dangerous, but I see no reason not to study it myself in case we ever encounter those weapons. If I can understand how a poisonous gas works, it’s easier to develop a cure, and that’s something I could certainly bid off to interested parties in the Underworld, or maybe the Revolutionaries would be willing to make me an offer.”

After the way he’d been acting, he was sounding a little too reasonable, instantly raising alarms in her mind. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“After everything we’ve been through tonight, you still doubt me?”

“Yes.”

He frowned briefly but didn’t seem surprised. Then again, he’d just lashed out at her over a misunderstanding—he’d be an idiot to assume she’d blindly trust his word. “I appreciate your honesty, at least. I suppose I’ll just have to find a way to prove myself.” Picking up the ledgers, he playfully tipped his hat. “Of course, I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t trust leaving these with you. You might do something stupidly noble like destroy them before I can get what I need.”

“And what exactly is it you need?” she pressed.

As he opened the door, he grinned over his shoulder. “Now I’m not sure you’ve earned that information, Nami-ya, but you have time to change my mind. If you manage to show me I can trust you by the time we reach the Isles of Grimm, I’d be happy to discuss it over dinner. I’ll even concede the bet as a show of good faith.”

Much as she wanted to argue, the navigator knew better than to risk sailing back into a storm. Law had proven that night that he was loyal to those he worked with and wasn’t completely without honor. On the other hand, he was still willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted, and anyone who got in his way would suffer his wrath. He had his own morals and plans—ones that might not coincide with hers.

Most importantly, he had the book on the shichibukai. It was clear he wouldn’t let her near the ledgers if he thought she might use the opportunity to double-cross him. If she had any hope of getting the information she sought on Jinbei and Kuma, she’d have to play nice and not rock the boat until she had her opening.

“Fine. But you’re going to have to work a little harder at earning my trust too, Trafalgar. I mean it when I say I don’t want any of those weapons specs finding their way to the Black Market.”

“A reasonable enough request. Now get some sleep, Nami-ya. If those marks haven’t faded in the next twenty-four hours, come to the infirmary for more salve.”

On that doctorly order he closed the door, leaving a concerned and confused navigator to stew over the night’s events.

[craftyshipper]

Bring Me Home, Chapter 9: Revealing

This woman was staring inquisitively at him as if he were some sort of alien species from another planet, and honestly, it was making him a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes watched his every move as he made himself more comfortable on the bed and he had to wonder what she could be thinking about. After she had asked him her first question, she kind of zoned out...or rather zoned in on him.

"Um, I can't talk to you when you stare at me like that." He glanced away, his ears burning red from her intense stare.

His voice seemed to snap her out of whatever was plaguing her mind as she apologized for her rudeness.

"S-Sorry!" Momo stammered; her face flushing pink. "It's just..." She trailed off as sadness filled her.

Shouto tilted his head, a silent inquiry before she walked over to the window and opened the blinds.

"After everything that's happened, I didn't think we'd have this kind of conversation."

"What kind did you think it was going to be?"

“A hostile one, I guess.”

She turned towards him again. Her eyes subconsciously traveling over his bare chest to the bandage wrapped around his side. It seemed unnecessary now, they had doctors with healing quirks to speed along his recovery. Then again, she didn’t know how far they hadn’t gotten with the treatments.

Her eyes moved back to his torso, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of the scars. The marks from the nomu’s claws. Her mind flashed to the image of all the blood she had seen that day. How what she did wasn’t enough to save him, but yet, here he was. 

"Are you alright?”

Momo snapped to attention once more at the interruption and looked to his face, a slightly worried expression towards her.

Get a hold of yourself Momo, you can do this.

“I’m sorry,” She apologized, “my mind seems to be elsewhere.”

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” He offered an escape.

“No,” she murmured, “we need to do this.” Her eyes flew to the scars once more. “It’s just, those scars on your chest...” She trailed off.

“Alright, let me ask this,” Shouto began, “if you say we know each other, who exactly am I to you?”

Despite her wanting this conversation to happen, Momo knew she was unprepared for the emotions and feelings that this talk would dig up. She didn’t want to cry but she could feel the familiar sting behind her eyelids, her vision blurring as she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to get her heart under control.

“You are, well you were, my boyfriend,” Momo revealed as she smiled sadly, “you were the love of my life and we were about to graduate from our hero school before everything took a turn for the worst.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were killed during a rescue mission.” Momo avoided his gaze. “I tried everything to save you but it wasn’t enough and now you show up out of the blue, alive and with no memory of me or our friends, you’ve attacked us and work for a man that we have no idea who he is...you don’t know how much this hurts.”

Now that she started, the words just came flowing from her as everything she had been holding back burst passed the wall she had tried to hide behind. Tears had begun slipping down her cheeks and Shouto was at a loss for what to do. Part of him was hesitant to believe what she was saying, but there was no way she could fake the number of tears that were escaping her eyes. She looked truly hurt by all of this and it pained him to think that he is the cause of it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you, for everything, I don’t know what else I can say.”

Momo wiped her face and reached for her phone, she wasn’t a fool, she knew he was unsure whether to believe her or not. So she opened the gallery on her phone and clicked on the folder named “Shouto”, before handing it to him.

The first photo she showed him was of her and him at the beach during the summer that they got together. He swiped across the screen to another photo of them in what appeared to be a cat cafe. He was smiling right beside her.

The third photo he hadn't been expecting, it was of him sleeping as she snapped the picture with her head next to his, a bright smile on her face. And from the looks of it, he was shirtless and possibly naked, it looked even more so when he saw her bare shoulders, the sheer barely covering her chest.

He blushed and quickly handed the phone back to her, avoiding her gaze.

Confused, Momo looked at the picture and she turned red instantaneously.

"Oh my," She whispered, "I didn't mean for you to see that one, at least not right now anyway."

Shouto cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, you want to know what I remember right?"

She nodded.

"Honestly, nothing before I started breaking into those labs."

Momo frowned.

"Ever since Noboru, the man I supposedly work for, called me Shouto, some of my memories aren't there anymore."

"When did he call you Shouto?"

"I was on the phone with him right before I rescued your daughter."

Momo thought for a minute as she pulled a tissue from her hand to wipe her face. And only one thing came to mind.

"A memory alteration quirk?" Her eyes widened.

"What?"

"It would explain why you believed you were a villain named Rogue," she explained, "and why you can't remember certain things about why you work for him."

Shouto tilted his head in thought.

She continued, "when you became aware, the effects of that quirk could have worn off."

"But I don't recall-"

He was cut off as his head pounded, images flooding his vision.

“Hey there honey.” She sauntered forward, swaying her hips slowly before stopping by his bedside. “A little birdie told me you were having trouble with your memory.”

Splintering pain forced his eyes shut and he barely heard Momo call his name, the throbbing seeming to block out everything else out around him. Glancing up at where Momo had originally been, he tried calling out her name before everything went black.

_________

“Noboru, Noboru,” Momo muttered to herself as she skimmed through piles and piles of paperwork as well as searched through several criminal databases on the computer.

She sighed in frustration, this would be so much easier if she had been given a last name. She was lucky she even got that much from Shouto before he passed out, and she wasn’t even really sure how or why that had happened. It seemed as though his mind was trying to bring his memories back, but after that display, it wasn’t going to be easy. If it was going to cause him to suddenly collapse like that, then they would need to tread carefully. The mind could be a fragile thing and they run the risk of his memories never returning at all.

After Shouto passed out, he was taken to have a brain scan to check for abnormal brain activity. The doctor was even going as far to bring in someone who also had a memory alteration quirk, making it possible for them to confirm if Shouto had been affected by someone like that.

Memory alteration quirks only worked one time on an individual, it was the downside of that quirk. Even if it was two different people with that same quirk, the second person would never be able to use their quirk on that person if the first one beat them to it.

While Shouto was getting a brain scan, Momo had taken the opportunity and left the hospital, leaving Kira in the care of her parents and Rei. Midoriya and Uraraka had offered to stay and wait for any information on their friend's condition, while the rest of their team returned home to shower and change out of their hero outfits.

“I have to find him,” she whispered to herself, “his name has to be here somewhere.”

She grabbed another file, this one being thinner than all the others, she opened it, her eyes widening.

"No way."

_________

Midoriya's leg bounced rapidly from his position in his chair as he waited for the doctors to finish their evaluation of his friend. This whole ordeal was terrifying him, he had tried pretending that it didn't affect him, but his nerves were making that extremely difficult.

"Izuku."

He flinched as Uraraka sat down in the seat next to him. A frown set on her lips, an accusing eyebrow was raised. He wanted to look away but it was hard when she puffed out her cheeks when she was mad at him.

And he hated making her mad.

"Hey," he greeted with a tiny wave.

"Izuku, I think it's time we had a talk."

"W-what? Why?"

"Because of Shouto." She stared at him. "You've been acting completely different since we found out he was alive, and I think it's bothering you more than you want to say."

Damn. How could he lie to her now?

With a sigh, he slumped in his chair, his eyes falling to the ground to stare at the white tile of the hospital floor. It didn't help at all, so boring...shaking his head from his inner rambling, he glances at her.

"I'm sorry," the apology came out on a whisper as he tried not to get choked up about all of this, "I really haven't had my head on straight for a while now and I know I've been hard to communicate with, but I honestly don't know what to say."

"Just talking about how you're feeling might help," she smiled gently, "maybe even cry a little."

Midoriya nodded and let out a shaky breath. "It's hard, I'm trying to be strong for Momo's sake and Rei but I'm ignoring my own feelings in the process. Endeavor is barely breaking the news to Shouto's siblings. What am I going to do when they come running too?"

"I know you think you can carry the weight of the world on your shoulders but even heroes need to cry sometimes."

That did it. As the tears streaked down his cheeks and a sob broke from his mouth, his mind flashed to when Shouto had said those same words to him back in high school. And it made him realize how much he really missed his friend. How much it hurt when he couldn't save him and stop him from becoming a pawn in someone's sick game.

Uraraka leaned over and wrapped her arms around his larger frame and pulled his face into his shoulder, letting him cry without interruption. Maybe now he could finally release the pent up grief that had been eating him alive over the last few years.

Despite her wanting to be strong as well.

She couldn’t stop when her tears fell too.

_________

The stack of papers startled Midoriya as they were dropped onto the table that he currently occupied in the hospital cafeteria. He glanced up at Momo, who plopped herself into the seat across from him, a tired sigh escaping her.

Uraraka walked up holding two cups of coffee and was surprised to see the creation hero.

“Oh, Yaomomo! I didn’t know you were coming,” she greeted as she set the two cups onto the table, “would you like some coffee?”

“No thank you,” Momo said with a small smile.

The gravity hero nodded and sat down next to Midoriya.

“What’s this?” The green-haired male inquired, pointing at the papers.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Momo began, “But I think I found the identity of the man that did this to Shouto.”

Midoriya was mid sip of his coffee before he slammed his mug onto the table, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Who is he?” He snatched the stack from the table and read through the information.

“All I have is his first name, Noboru,” Momo explained, “he was a lab assistant that helped that doctor who worked for All For One.”

Uraraka’s eyes widened in shock. “I thought the police arrested everyone?”

“He had been questioned briefly by the police, but he somehow managed to slip away from him and he hadn’t been heard from since.” Momo rubbed her temples.

“So he would have the knowledge to produce more Nomu without the help of All For One?”

Midoriya jumped to his feet and slammed his hands onto the table, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the room.

“Sorry!” He apologized and urged everyone to continue eating as he turned back to the creation hero, a new determination set in his eyes.

“I promise I’m going to catch this son of a bitch.”

“You and me both,” Momo stated confidently, her eyes shining with the promise of retribution.

__________

Shouto came awake with a start, his eyes snapping open as his body jerked up into a sitting position. Turning his head he spotted a machine that seemed to be monitoring his brain activity.

“What happened?” He groaned and placed his head in his hands.

Quickly pulling them back, he realized the absence of the handcuffs from before.

“What the...?”

Before he could finish his sentence, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He was surprised to find that it was Momo. She was currently sitting in a chair next to him, the top portion of her body resting on his bed as she snoozed away.

Her long black hair wasn’t in a pony tail, but rather let down in a more comfortable style. Shouto lifted his hand and removed a stray strand of hair from her face, her nose crinkling from the tickling sensation the hair had caused. He quickly jerked his hand away, unsure of why he felt compelled to do that.

His eyes traveled to a small photo album that rested a few inches from her face. Curious, he grabbed it and brought it into his lap. His hand hesitated on the cover before he shook his head and opened it.

There were several pictures of them together as he flipped through the pages. Some were of him and a few of the heroes that worked alongside Momo. It made him wonder what he was truly missing, assuming all of this was legit and not some scam concocted by these people.

But with each picture and each story that he had been told, it became harder not to believe it.

Because deep down he knew he wanted it to be true.

[slinkinginshadows]

Helpless

Well, this got away from me a bit. I haven’t done anything over 1,200 words or so in a while. The ‘Bakura eats people with Ryou’s body and makes him watch’ idea.

Warnings: Digestion, fearplay (for real this time), unwilling prey, and emeto at the end. Bakura is a sadistic bastard, basically. This is probably one of the darker things I’ve written so if that’s upsetting to you be careful.

Wordcount: 1561

Ryou had slipped. He’d been examining the Ring, seeing if he could sense any lingering presence in after the Monster World game half a month ago, when the spirit had pounced. His body had been yanked from him, and he was helpless to stop it- it had been unexpected, and his fingers had curled around it without his will commanding them to.

“You’ve been keeping me out, Landlord.” The spirit licked its lips, eyes swirling with darkness. Whether it was anger or dark magic, Ryou couldn’t tell, but he knew it couldn’t be good either way.

“You hurt my friends.” Ryou replied. Powerless or not, he wasn’t about to roll over, especially now that he knew he could yank back control once the situation allowed it. “Not just the new ones, but all of them. What was I supposed to do?”

“You wanted to keep them close, to play with them forever. I was only fulfilling your wishes.” The spirit had a sadistic grin.

“Don’t- you can’t say I wanted this! You wouldn’t have hidden from me if you thought that!” Ryou crossed his arms, but gasped as the spirit started pulling him into the Ring.

“It was fun for me as well… but now that you know I’m here, I might as well play around one last time.”

Ryou could only hope his ‘play’ was something reversible before everything went dark.

____________

Ryou woke with the spirit sitting on the couch and several people examining his bookshelf.

“Oooh, you have a lot of fantasy books, Bakura-kun!” Ryou’s heart dropped as he realized who they were- members of his new ‘fan club’. Members he’d griped about to himself- and, unintentionally, to the spirit.

“Get out of here!” He tried to yell, but none of them could hear him.

“I like fantasy. You can do anything there.” Bakura said with a stolen mouth in a voice that was just a shade off Ryou’s. He watched them for another moment before setting a hand on the Ring and bathing all four girls in a purple glow that was so dark it seemed to suck up all the light surrounding it.

When the smoke faded, they were all different variations of small- one was the size of a mouse, another a cat, the next a small child, and the fourth- Ryou thought she’d been vanished entirely until he saw she was barely the size of a piece of candy.

“You know, my host really doesn’t much care for the attention you girls dote on him.” Bakura easily slid off the couch, picking up the mouse-sized girl with one hand and the tiny one in the other. He immobilized the others with the Ring as Ryou swore his non-existent stomach tied up in knots.

“Please, don’t do this… I don’t mind it that much, they’re just kids, please-”

“I said I wanted to help you, so that’s what I’m doing.” Bakura smirked at Ryou before opening his mouth, popping the smallest girl in and swallowing her easily.

Ryou could barely hear her scream over the shrieks of the other three.

“What are you doing?”

“Spit her out!”

“B-bakura-kun, what’s gotten into you?” The last one was the other girl still clutched in Bakura’s hand, squirming helplessly, and he gave her a long, wet lick.

“Someone who’s been just as annoyed with you as he was.” Bakura pushed her into his mouth, rolling her around. Ryou heard her screams loud and clear, even muffled by Bakura’s cheeks. He was certain if he could in this state, he would have been physically sick to see his face look so gleeful at torturing her.

She left a bulge in Bakura’s throat as she went down, and it took two good swallows before she hit his stomach. He prodded the outside of it. “I can’t even see her… tsk, it’s like she doesn’t even exist now.”

“Whatever you’re trying to do, you’re awful! I hate you!” Ryou refused to let himself cry, but his cheeks were still hot even though this form was absent of any real feeling.

“You ruined my game, my chance to get the Puzzle. I’m showing you what it feels like to be helpless since you wouldn’t roll over before.” Bakura paused to pick at his teeth, before reaching for the cat-sized girl. He turned her this way and that, using his thumb to prod at her stomach, slightly larger than average.

“They… they don’t have anything to do with this.” Ryou tried to hold firm, but he saw squirming under his shirt. His body had just eaten two people, alive, and the spirit seemed to be planning to do it again. At their size, stomach acid would make short work of them.

Before, they’d been in comas that his friends had helped him reverse. There was no going back from this.

The spirit finished examining the girl, pushing her head into his mouth. He had a considerably harder time with her than the other two, but refused to shrink her further, instead only swallowing a bit at a time. 

Numbly, Ryou wondered how on earth he’d be able to get down the last one, if he had trouble with one a third of her size. Her legs flailed as he continued to swallow until they disappeared into his mouth completely. Another few gulps and she joined her friends. The shirt rode up Bakura’s belly, and he let out a little pleasured moan, rubbing it as it squirmed like a living thing.

Well. It contained living things. Ryou curled his hands around his own mostly-flat stomach, arms sinking into his ghostly body.

“Ahh, one to go…” Bakura gave a burp, already looking like he’d eaten a basketball. The remaining girl was a good three feet tall and shook like she’d been in a blizzard with no coat.

“P-please… please leave me alone…”

“Hmm…. no.” Bakura drew her closer, setting her small hands on his stomach that had started loudly gurgling and churning. “You’re just a means to an end for me.” He let that sink in before pushing her head into his mouth, gagging a little on the size. Her hair dripped with saliva, and his jaw surrounded with shadowy smoke, allowing him to open it wider and push her in fully, having only to swallow to get her down. His throat bulged grotesquely as she went down, and Ryou tried to turn away, but Bakura used magic to force him to watch.

She was gone, the seams of Ryou’s shirt tearing as his stomach rested on his thighs. Although perhaps ‘rest’ was too generous of a word, as it constantly wriggled and screamed. Bakura held a fist up to his mouth, belching again. “Oooh, that’s good…” He looked up at Ryou, and although Ryou could see his cheeks tinged green, he didn’t show any discomfort. “I’ve done this before, you know. To people I didn’t think you’d notice missing.” He patted his struggling stomach. “It’s the ultimate victory, claiming them as mine forever.”

“You’re sick.” Ryou whispered. “You made me a murderer.”

“The strong survive.” Bakura shrugged, then his eyes gleamed. “And I think it’s time I give my rental back.”

Ryou didn’t have time to react before Bakura pulled him back into his body. The first thing that hit was the nausea, and he barely managed to avoid vomiting all over himself. A chill settled into his skin in contrast to the slick sweat coating it as he realized nothing would come up- the only two he’d be able to physically throw up were below the two larger girls, and were likely already dead from the acid.

He was stuck until they digested.

Ryou groaned, trying to bring something, anything, up to ease the pain, but it was futile. The girls screamed as his stomach contracted around them, and as acid lapped at their skin. Ryou was already dizzy from the overwhelming fullness, and it had been barely fifteen seconds, but he refused to pass out. He needed to at least… at least stay up until they stopped moving.

If his stomach looked unnatural, it felt even worse. His legs looked even thinner than usual under such a monster of a belly, and his hands felt like bone as he massaged it, desperate for relief. He didn’t doubt it would have ruptured if the spirit hadn’t done something to it. His fingers curled as a meaty belch forced its way past his lips, and he slumped back, a soft whine escaping his lips.

“I’m so sorry…” The pain from inside twisted like a knife as one of them landed a particularly fierce- kick? Punch? Hell if he knew- and it was too much. Ryou blacked out.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, when he woke up. That he was on the bed, meaning the spirit had controlled him again, or that his stomach had quadrupled overnight, a soft fleshy thing that didn’t look right with little of the weight redistributed to his other limbs.

A hair clip soaked in blood was laid next to a note in sloppy handwriting.

‘That was fun- you could make a good monster, when we can work together. ;)’

Ryou rushed to the bathroom on wobbly legs and evacuated whatever was left in his stomach, which was mostly blood and the ragged remains of a school uniform shirt. 

[cherrywineandmagic]

So It Goes / Spencer Reid

A/N: The result of late night writing and having a fever. This is not the happiest story. It’s nearly 3 am and I haven’t edited so there will probably be typos. I apologize in advance. 

Warnings: Mentions of rape/torture. angst. And just bad stuff, my man 

Serenity filled Spencer’s being, a feeling of such tranquility he never thought he'd ever feel. It was something he didn't waste, something he appreciated more than most. Peace of mind was always difficult to find as it seemed to evade him most of his life, similar to the way sleep would play the cat and mouse game with him most nights. 

Her long red hair was all around her, laid out onto the soft silk pillowcase underneath. She smiled, her lips pulling back to reveal slightly crooked teeth. Her green eyes sparkled with hints of gold and he felt himself lost in them for a second. He studied her face well, counting the forty-two freckles across her cheeks that were like small constellations against her skin. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched, a testimony to the routine appointments she made to have them done. But they were thinner now, missing of the makeup she used to fill them in. 

“What are you staring at?” she laughed. He’d been silent for minutes now, simply memorizing every inch of her face as it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was the same look he held when he contemplated the world’s greatest pieces of art, and she felt both self-conscious and flattered to see it directed toward her. 

“I’m just trying to remember this, that’s all,” he replied with a small grin. They laid there in comfortable silence, their bodies turned to each other in full attention. He smiled as he watched her eyelids begin to droop down with exhaustion before closing. His hand reached out and ruffled her hair slightly, earning a small grunt of disapproval from her. 

“Some of us have work in the morning, Spence,” she said with a small chuckle as her hand reached up to grab hold of his. The night was growing darker and the streets quieter. It was later than the pair usually stayed up on a weekday. 

“Not if I don’t let you out of this bed,” he replied with a bright grin as he pulled her closer to him. His hand hit her bare back with just the sheet between them, their legs becoming tangled in each other in a familiar embrace. 

“Keep us in bed and Hotch will fire us both” 

Spencer laughed at her remark, knowing well the reprimands they’d received for coming in late recently. He couldn’t help it, he was in love. He’d find ways to keep her in bed despite knowing his responsibilities. He’d always been punctual but he chose happiness this time around. 

“Ok, fine. I’ll let you sleep.” Spencer murmured against her forehead as his own exhaustion washed through him. The only sound that came from the room that night were Spencer’s soft snores and the white noise their corner fan provided.

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

“We’ve been dating for two years and not once have we been unprofessional during a case,” she defended, her eyes flashing with disbelief. Hotch nodded, sighing as he looked at his youngest agents.

“Someone brought your relationship to the attention of my superiors. You’re no longer allowed to share a room while we’re working on a case.” 

“That's-” 

“Fair,” Spencer interrupted. His hand reassuringly squeezed her shoulder as she looked at him in confusion. “They want to make sure we’re focused. I don't mind sharing a room with Morgan.”

“But-” she began to argue only to be cut off again.

“We can sleep together at home, love. I’m sure you don't mind sharing a room with JJ?” She sighed in defeat but nodded, agreeing to the switch. 

-----------

It was a switch that didn't last very long as Spencer found himself sneaking into her hotel room at night. JJ would chuckle but sneak away to take his place in Morgan’s room, knowing she’d have to wake a few minutes earlier than Hotch in order to make the switch back. No one on the team mentioned the fact they were defying orders. Seeing Spencer so happy wasn't something they were willing to end. 

Spencer crawled into her covers that night, just barely fitting into the single-person sized bed. She laughed as he nearly fell back, his long arms reaching to wrap around her in time to grab some balance. 

“Shh,” she hushed, concealing her own giggle as he tried his best not to make noise. He grinned, looking down at her bare face and slowly caressing her soft cheeks. 

“I love you,” he whispered. The softness in his voice mirrored that of his heart, where he felt nothing but a burning fire of adoration for her. 

“I love you too,” she replied, her eyes shining from the pale light that trickled in from the hotel window. Soft moonlight illuminated her features for a second, giving Spencer just enough time to memorize yet another night with her. 

-----------

His eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps. He instantly sprung forward, his hands grasping onto the bars of the cell he was held in. Silent tears flowed down his face as he watched him carry her into the cell across from him, letting her fall from his arms carelessly onto the concrete floor. 

The man walked away without a glance in his direction. He had been their unsub, a former police officer whose preferred victims had been women. He’d pick them by pairs, taking turns to sexually assault and torture them to their death. Spencer hadn't been meant to be in that room. The unsub had watched them, and having her and JJ in one room was a dream come true. But he had missed the moment the switch had happened, and instead of leaving Spencer behind he had brought him as well. 

Spencer held back a choked sob as he took in the new bruises along her thighs. He could see the darkening skin around her throat, and the burns from rope around both her wrists and ankles. She laid still for hours and only by the small rise and fall of her chest did he know she was still alive.

His heart broke when she finally turned her head to face him, her eyes dead from emotion. A tiny window allowed moonlight to illuminate her face, but the sight was heart wrenching. 

“Spence,” she whispered. She saw the despair in his eyes and could only imagine how horrible she must have looked. She felt it. She felt herself growing weaker with every grope, with every push the unsub gave. She felt the sting of the cuts he made along her skin in places she was glad Spencer wasn't able to see. The only thing that kept her together during this had been thinking of Spencer who was waiting for her return. 

“We’re going to get out. Garcia will find our location. The team will find us.” His words were meant as reassurance but she wondered if they were meant for her or him. She nodded softly, knowing full well that the unsub was beginning to bore of her and she would not make it past the day. 

“Tell me about our future, Spence,” she whispered as she looked at him for an escape. He smiled sadly, trying to push away the feeling that she was already gone from him. 

“Well, I'm going to propose. At a planetarium where we’re underneath the night sky because I know how much you love the stars. I’ll get on my knees and say, “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought was possible, and you have single-handedly made me into a better man. You have taken my breath away and given me life at the same time, and I won't go another day without knowing you’ll be my wife.” 

“And the ring?” she asked, a small smile playing on her face at his story.

“It’s huge. So big it’ll weigh too heavy on your finger and we’ll have to exchange it for a smaller one the next day,” Spencer replied, tears streaming down his face as he looked at her. 

“What comes next?”

“The wedding.We’ll have a small wedding in Rossi’s backyard. Just the people we love. And we’ll get so drunk off of each other and off wine that we’ll be dancing all night.”

“Dancing? Now that's something I need to see,” she commented, a tiny weak laugh departing her lips. “Then what?” 

“We move into a house. Probably in the suburbs where the houses all look the same on the outside but we’ll find a way to make the inside home. We’ll adopt a dog from the local shelter.” 

“Rodger.”

“Yes, Rodger,” Spencer chuckled, remembering how she’d always wanted a dog with that name. It was yet another childhood oddity that he had fallen in love with.

“And we’ll have kids. Three of them.” 

“Three?”

“Yes. Two boys and a girl. The boys will love you and your wildness and the girl will be absolutely spoiled by me. I don't have names yet, but they’ll be beautiful if they're anything like you.”

“I hope they're as smart as you. Maybe one will finally beat you at chess,” she smiled.

“Marry me,” he blurted out, needing to know her answer. 

“I’m all yours.” 

“Is that your way of saying yes? Or should we skip that and go to the I do?” 

She laughed, the sound making his heart skip a beat as his mind filed it away for a rainy day. 

“I do.” 

Spencer felt his heart break further as a tiny spark reemerged from her eyes, just enough to feel she was still with him. Their eyes met, shining with tears at seeing the other in such conditions. 

“I love you. I don't want you to ever forget that.” 

Spencer sobbed, his heart physically hurting as his head fell into his hands. He took a moment to collect himself before mustering up the strength to look at her again.

“I will never forget that. I love you so much.” 

Spencer cried as the unsub reappeared again, unlocking her cell and dragging her weak body out and onto his shoulder. He watched as her eyes immediately closed, her mind escaping elsewhere. 

His cries filled the room as he fell back onto the floor, his body weak and malnourished after being held prisoner for nearly a week. He cursed the unsub, cursed his job. If only they were normal, mundane people. If he had been a professor, a barista, anything. They wouldn't have landed in this godforsaken town that seemed to tear away the one good thing he’d been given. 

Hours passed before he came back. This time he opened Spencer’s cell and wordlessly dropped her body inside. Immediately he knew she was gone. He clung to her, holding her limp body in his arms as his sobs grew louder every second. Even her hair looked less vibrant, as if the fiery red had been fueled by her life. She felt cold to his touch, and that coldness seemed to seep into his heart. 

It wasn't even an hour later when the team appeared. One look inside the cell and they all felt their hearts shatter. One look at Reid’s dead eyes was enough to let them know that she was gone. The tears continued to stream down his cheeks but he no longer made a sound. They had been too late, and he had lost the love of his life. 

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

More people than he expected showed up to the wake. She had touched the lives of nearly everyone she encountered and the morning had been spent with the retelling of her adventures. Person after person spoke animatedly about her with nothing but fond memories. Even the team tried to join in, mentioning how much she brought to their everyday lives and trying their best to remain as put together for Spencer. While they had lost a friend, he had lost a lover. 

Spencer felt an odd warmth fill him at the stories. He’d always known she was a wild soul. She caused commotion wherever she went but she was also full of so much love that no one had a bad thing to say. Instead they spoke with admiration, claiming that she lived life to its fullest and only ever settled for things that made her happy.

She had chosen him. That much was enough to make him smile, the thought of her momentarily bringing him comfort. 

He approached the open casket once everyone had gone. Her bruises had been covered and her makeup done to her taste. She looked beautiful, even in death. She looked like herself, the way she would want to be remembered. 

His goodbyes were said internally. He felt if he even attempted to speak it would release the floodgates, and so he spoke of how he loved her in his thoughts, knowing she would hear them. 

Finally he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it, revealing the large diamond ring he had described to her earlier. He slipped it onto her fingers gently before giving her hand one last small squeeze. 

“You will always be my wife,” he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible. His words rang true to him. He had married her a million times in his mind, and the feeling would never go away. 

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

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Morgan asked as he pulled to the curb.

“No. I think I’ll walk home. I need the air,” Spencer replied as he threw open the car door. The cold breeze woke him and sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Spencer nodded as he threw open the backseat. Down came a large husky, excited to be out and yet standing obediently at his feet.

“Reid, anything,” Morgan repeated, concern laced in his voice.

“I will,” Spencer reassured. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, kid.” Spencer watched as Morgan pulled back onto the road, driving slower than usual. He didn't doubt that Morgan was contemplating coming back, but he he appeared to ultimately decide against it. Once he could no longer see his vehicle he turned and motioned for the dog to follow. 

“Come on, Rodger,” he said as he weaved through the cemetery. They both knew the way by heart as they passed all kinds of headstones, Rodger running ahead of him with excitement in every step.

“Say hi,” Spencer said as he took a seat in front of an intricate headstone. Rodger circled it, pressing his nose up against the marble for a moment. Spencer gingerly placed the flowers he had brought with him at the foot of it, a vivid bouquet of colors that stood out in that cold winter day. Rodger fell down beside him, resting his head onto his lap as a sense of comfort washed over them both, the feeling of her surrounding them.

[inkstainedfanfics]

The Alleyway Rescue

Request: FBAWTFT Credence request please and thank you? Reader sees Credence being harassed and steps in to protect him?"

Word Count: 1,701

Pairing: None

Requested by Anonymous

Requests are currently open! Feel free to send one in

New York’s alleys house the nastiest of people in the big city. The very kind of people that will sneer at you with their toothy grin as you walk past, spitting at your feet when you turn your gaze away, and occasionally follow you until you dip into a shop and hide among the crowd. Some shout vulgar words at women. Others beckon you forward into the dark path and to whatever harm awaits. Alleys never contain any good, which is why you decided within the first week of moving to New York to never look in the creeping shadows.

You stick true to this vow today as you walk to your grocery store. The sidewalk is surprisingly full today, but you don’t have to shove anyone to the side the entire way. Unusual but nice.

The door to the grocery store swings open and a wave of various smells – from fresh lettuce to the bread the bakers makes every morning. – wash over you. You step inside with a smile and pick up everything on your list.

By the time you’re walking back outside the door and into the stench that is New York, your small bag is bursting with loaves of bread, herbs, snacks, drink mixes, and other ingredients. Satisfied with the price and pleased with the cloudless sky, you decide to wander around the city and explore the area.

You turn left instead of the usual right. As you wander, you spot a pastry shop you’ve never before noticed. You make a mental note to return and visit the store later. A cat darts past you followed by some shouting little boys who are all dressed up in little blue suits. A middle-aged woman turns and yells at them as they breeze by her.

The normal bustling noise of the city grows even louder as you venture further in. To your left, a woman is waving a rug out the window, grumbling something to herself. Kids shriek in laughter, dogs bark, a man shouts and shakes his fist at another man, cars lumber by, and somewhere in the distance, a train whistles. You clutch your bag of treats to your chest and look around in wonder. There is just so much all the time.

You’re watching a flock of birds swoop around a huge lighted sign on top of some building when a boy bumps into you.

He scowls at you, his fourteen year old features contorting into an ugly stare. “Watch where you’re going, miss.”

“I’m sorry. I was just-“ He’s gone before you can even finish your apology.

Apparently, whatever he’s doing in the alley in front of you is more important.

You’re about to turn away when you hear the taunting. It echoes between the walls of the alley and trickles into the city’s noise. No one else seems to notice the obvious mimicking tone escaping the narrow way.

You glance at it, even turn, before remembering what you promised yourself after that first week. No alleys. Not in any circumstance.

Then a gaunt face catches your eyes, and the man’s sunken eyes meet yours only for a moment before they’re drawn down to the spot on his shin where a boy kicks him. The same boy that almost knocked you over.

You bite your lip. The man doesn’t do anything to stop the attacks, the taunting of the five kids that have circled around him. You would normally assume it’s just kids having fun, but he doesn’t smile, doesn’t meet the faces of the kids abusing him. No, this isn’t fun.

Still, it isn’t your problem. This man should be able to take care of himself.

Maybe you’re just missing some piece of information. No, you shouldn’t interfere.

You take a step back, fully prepared to leave. Then the kids shove the stranger against the wall. He crashes into it and falls to his knees. As soon as the other kids each pull a foot back, you’re on the move.

“Leave him alone!” You stand at the entrance, sun to your back, as you glare at the kids squinting at you.

“Who’re you?” A younger girl asks.

Another boy interjects. “She’s justa stranger, ain’t you?”

The boy that ran into you earlier glares at you. “I told you to watch where you go, miss. This place ain’t for you.”

You focus on him, the obvious ringleader. “Why are you hurting that man?”

“Why’s it matter to you?”

“If he doesn’t deserve it, you shouldn’t be doing it.” You glance at the man as your adrenaline starts to ebb. He stares at you, wide eyed.

“He deserves plenty more than we’re giving him. He’s a freak.” The boy cranks his head around and spits on the man’s pants.

“Stop that.” You take a step forward, anger flashing.

The boy frowns at you, then crosses his arms over his chest and drops his head onto his shoulder. “Aw, would you look at this, boys. Someone’s got themselves a little crush.”

Your cheeks flare, a mix of anger and embarrassment. If only the man would get up and run already. “I do not.”

“Look at that, the devil’s flames are in ‘er cheeks. She’s a goddamned freak lover.”

“Leave me and the man be.”

“What d’ya wanna be called on your wedding day? Mrs. Freak?”

“I told you to leave him alone.”

“And I told you to watch where you walk. Looks like the both of us can’t listen.”

You peer around the boy. “What’s your name?”

The boy steps in front of the man. “His name is Freak.”

“His name,” you growl, “is whatever he says it is.” You step to the side to view the stranger. “So?”

The word is soft, the ghost of a word, barely audible over the city’s muted sound. “Credence.”

“Are you alright, Credence?”

His eyes never leave your face. “No.”

“That’s it, then.” You straighten and face the boy. “You’ll leave Credence alone, now.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make sure you end up in prison for the night. My uncle’s a police officer.” Not true in the least but you cross your fingers and pray.

The boy snarls. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

The other kids remain silent, watching you and the boy glare at one another.

He jerks his head, not dropping your stare. “Fine. But I hope the Freak knows that if he ever comes this way again, we’ll make sure you have to drag him out by his shattered arms.”

“Go.” You step to the side, giving the kids room as they race out and disappear into the New York crowd.

“Thank you.” Credence looks up at you, wrapping an arm around his side as he sits up.

“Are you hurt?” You rush to his side and help him to the wall.

“No.”

A bit of blood dribbles down his arm. “Yes, you are.” You pull a handkerchief from your bag and dab away the blood. A small cut, thinner than a coin, bubbles up after you wipe it all away. You press the cloth against it and take in the rest of him.

Heavy bags pull down on his dark eyes, especially evident against the pale skin tugged over his sharp cheekbones. He’s thin for the age he must be. You can’t tell his exact age, but you can tell by his set jaw and his broad shoulders that he must be at least 20, but he has no muscle or fat on his bones. It’s as though he is a ghost that has starved for the last 40 years.

“Would you like some food?” When he nods, you reach into your bag and tear off a chunk of bread.

He takes it with a nod.

The danger over, you sit next to him. “What were you doing here?”

“Walking home.”

You strain to hear his words. “Does this happen a lot?”

He nods. “Almost every time.”

“Why do you come this way?”

His gaze floats to you. “It’s the safest way.”

Your heart aches. “Would you like me to walk you back?”

“It’s okay.”

“Would you let me?”

His brows furrow the slightest bit. Everything this man does is so small, it’s almost imperceptible.  “Yes.”

“Okay.” You suck in a breath, scanning the square for the kids, but they’ve completely vanished. “Alright. Let’s go.” You help him to his feet. “Where do you live?”

He points. “Over there.”

You thin your lips but pull him forward to a seedy part of town. “How far?”

“Five blocks from here..”

“So, what were you doing out?”

“I had to walk my sister somewhere.”

“You have a sister?”

He bows his head. “Yes.”

“What’s she like?” You desperately want something to talk about so the walk isn’t completely awkward.

“Quiet.”

“It must run in the family?”

He doesn’t reply so you walk in silence the next four blocks. He points to a crumbling building just ahead. You’re grateful. It’s been so awkward. A small pang of worry hits you, but you try to ignore it.

You’re nearly to the front door when Credence turns to you. “Why did you stop?”

“Excuse me?”

“To help. Why did you stop to help?”

Your confusion shows on your face. “They were hurting you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He just blinks at you, obviously thinking something, but just says. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Here.” You curse yourself even as you pull the grocer’s business card and a pen out of your pocket. You scratch out your address. “If you ever need someone to walk with you again or even just want to stop in for supper, this is where I live.”

You push the business card at him, worried he won’t take it.

He opens his hand and looks over it once, twice, then up at you. You swear you see something close to tears.

“Could I come tomorrow?”

You nod vigorously, relieved you didn’t insult Credence with your gesture. “I was going to make a pan of chicken and dumplings for supper if you want to join.”

He looks at the card again, then at you. “I will. Thank you.”

This time, the words are inaudible as he disappears into the decaying manor.

[assume-a-virtue]

Pre-NaNoWriMo

So this is the pre-NaNoWriMo post. NaNoWriMo is something I haven't attempted in, oh hell, years? Over a decade at this point. This practice run is occurring eight hours or so before NaNoWriMo actually begins for me. I plan to write in the mornings, though I know that plans change and muses can be elusive.

The plan is to write each morning, about two thousand words per day. This will give me sixty thousand words instead of the fifty thousand. Editing will chop out what needs to go.

So what am I writing? This is a good question, and not one I myself know the answer to. I have a lot of characters, but they're old, familiar, and beloved. I know their stories backward and forward, like a book I revisit for comfort and not necessarily for new.

I don't want that.

I want to meet someone new, someone outside the staid parameters of the people I know. I saw a recent prompt that I can't get out of my head, though I don't know if I have the talent for it, or how to execute it.

It follows the 'new phone, who dis?' trope, someone sends a dick pic out to a number they think is an ex's, and it's not. It's some random stranger who maybe flirts with them. They continue to text (why?) and begin to fall in love through this medium.

I like it. There are ways and ways to do it, and being real, how many people have not texted a wrong number by accident? Especially if (as I imagine the protagonist to be) drunk and lonely? I can even throw twists in; urban fantasy is big as hell right now, so why not make the phone owner something else? Vampire fiction is still raging, werewolves too, fairies will never die... the possibilities are endless.

Of course, this goal bases itself on these two characters (and all other side characters) being people we, the readers, relate to. This is possible, even with the urban fantasy twist.

Consider:

The old immortal with a face caught too many times in artwork, trying to figure out how not to be so visible in our social media drenched world.

The vampire HR director with impostor syndrome: the only reason she knows how to handle people so well is because she's dealt with many, and there are only so many variations on unprofessional behavior, even now.

The werewolf dog-trainer, bossing the dogs brought to him so they behave, cancelling classes around the full moon and worried people will notice.

Trees that speak, fish that grant wishes, cats that tease ogres into small shapes and then eat them; these are the things that make fairy tales.

What about modern fairy tales? Do we have any? I can suggest that we still have Cinderella; the recent Kingsman duology is a Cinderella story with two twists. The Cinderella is male, and being a secret agent has given him what he needs to blend in during "the ball" so he can marry the Princess without shame.

I'll go further and say that we have Snow White yet, still. Loved ones and relatives in comas, spoken to as if they can hear us and come back to beloved voices? Yes. What better glass coffin than a hospital? What better dwarves than doctors?

In my heart of hearts I always preferred fairytales like the Twelve Dancing Princesses, Aarne-Thompson 306. I like the complicity of the princesses in the tale. They drug their suitors, even knowing that the penalty for failure is death. Some versions of the story end with failed suitors disappearing to become the enchanted princes they dance with, but I like the "do or die" version best.

How often do you find complicit princesses in fairytales?

I think I will alternate points of view, after a point. At first all we'll know is the guy who texts the mistaken picture. Does he text a man or a woman? Well, good question. Probably a man. Does he get a dick pic in return? Good question. There are several ways to react to an unexpected dick pic, after all; they are the male version of 'notice me, I am alive!' and any attention is good.

Protagonist A, in an agony of loneliness and drink, sends a dick pic. Does he add any message to it? A drunken, lonely ramble, a confession of how alone he feels? Who did he break up with? How long was the relationship? When did they break up? What did they break up over, or was it over? Was he blindsided or did he see it falling apart?

Protagonist B receives it. Does he critique? Send his own? Does he ask who it's from? Does he respond to the ramble? Does he have time to respond to the ramble? Does the pic catch him on a rare day of downtime?

What keeps them talking? I suspect B may have to respond to that loneliness, if only to continue the connection between them. I do want them to end up together.

I like this idea. There's an online list of questions that I guess I'll try to answer for this, to flesh it out:

1. The Jump Start The first scene in the story where a protagonist with limited knowledge of a problem is drop-kicked into action on page one as conflict begins.

What is the opening image that will stick in the reader’s mind?

The dick pic, followed by the feelings!dump text, something most of us can sympathize with wanting to do, even if the idea of it is humiliating.

What is the opening mood?

Our mood is sympathy; who hasn't been lonely enough to want to send a feelings!dump to a recently departed ex? Protag A's mood is profound loneliness and sadness, maybe a bit of drunken rage. This was a serious relationship for him, maybe only his first or second but probably the longest lasting one so far.

What is the opening tone?

What is the opening conflict?

Protag A trying to convince the wrong person that they should be together and how good they are with/for each other.

What is the protagonist’s outer desire?

Wanting to reunite with his Ex, to return his life to the way it was.

What is the protagonist’s hidden need that she will fill at the end of the book or series?

Being loved for who they are.

How does the protagonist demonstrate that she doesn’t really understand the problem?

Protag A focuses on winning back that previous relationship, instead of forging new ones.

What is the central theme of the book and how does it relate to the opening scene?

Being loved for who you are, knowing when a relationship is gone, knowing when a new relationship has happened to you. Learning how to live in the present and accept the lessons of the past without assuming that the future will always become what the past was. Learning how not to love like one's parents.

Who is the antagonist?

I'm not sure there is one. A's ex isn't malicious, only oblivious. It hurts A but Ex doesn't mean to be cruel. A's mother is emotionally abusive, A's father enables her. What does that make A's home life like? Something he would want to flee as soon as he could. How old is A? A least 18-- Maybe he's 22? Did he go to college? If A's mother (hereafter called Mommy Dearest) let him, it would have been commuting. A can drive, or there's public transportation. Maybe A can't drive; this is something to overcome, a way to become more independent.

How is the antag introduced or foreshadowed?

A's family. Emotionally abusive mother and enabling father, A moved cross country to be with Ex (and secondarily to escape family reach). Not sure if they cared about his coming out. She (mother is the controlling factor) may have been accepting until it was her precious baby that comes out of the closet? I've seen this reaction before, would be easy to write it and I suspect it's more common than people realize.

If the antag is only foreshadowed, is there a main minion who appears? Is this main minion a recurring character central to the overall plot?

Maybe minions. If A moved to be with Ex, then all his friends would be Ex's friends. Having to navigate a new city and new job without any kind of support is a lot to deal with. Moving is one of the biggest kinds of life stress; to move and then be abandoned would be even worse. Does A go out with Ex's friends a little, trying to pry information out of them about Ex? I think he does, and it makes him feel even more lonely.

Prior to the opening, what internal and external forces have been at work to make the protag suffer?

Ex's obliviousness to A's needs, A's friends being mostly Ex's friends so that the breakup leaves him alone. A moved cross-country to be with Ex, and has no support now that they've broken up. Even the friends A thought he had are gone now, and everything about the city makes him think of Ex.

How are these tied to the protag’s hidden need?

A longs for a love that doesn't tell him he needs to change. A love that he doesn't need to be better for, or thinner for, or less smart for. Something felt wrong in his relationship with Ex, but there was so much physical chemistry first that it overwhelmed the concerns he might have had. Maybe A is young, too, hasn't had too many serious relationships. What is his home life like, the examples he's had? Emotionally abusive mother, enabling father? What kind of love is he used to/thinks he deserves?

So I've ended up with way more questions than answers, but these are good questions to have. These questions are what will build the story. I definitely can relate to some of it, and I figure it'll get hot and steamy somewhere along the line. Phone sex, dick pic exchange, maybe some short videos? There's a lot of draw in that.

Word Count: 1700

Time: 2 hours