"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....
She is the love of my life"
The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,
Are you gonna give us that Jack Frost/Reader we know you wanna write?? 😆
oh god yes yes YES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO 😳💖 there is an absolutely tragic lack of x Reader fanworks for this man, which is devastating given how much he craves attention...i think he needs a little love to warm him right up 😉
Jack Frost x Reader headcanons 💙❄️
❄️ when You first meet Jack, he flatters You like you're the only person in the world who matters. he presses earnest kisses to the backs of your palms and showers You with compliments. you're taken in by his glittering smile, and the ease with which Jack makes You feel ever so special. but with time, You notice Jack's long game. there's a shallow affect behind those attentive eyes which clues You in; he's not only always watching You for any glimmer of approval, but watching everyone else too, all of the time. every phrase is perfectly engineered to give him the response he wants, and what he wants is attention. so, You decide to turn the tables on him. You make it your life's goal to make Jack Frost melt.
❄️ when You confront Jack on his scheming behaviour, his persona cracks like ice. his smile drops instantly and he takes on a mocking, scathing tone. "You think you've figured it all out?" he scoffs. "Please. Your gullibility would give the April Fool a field day. Why don't you scootle along now, before you get yourself hurt?" but You see it: the hurt flickering behind those frost-blue eyes. You step closer to him, and don't miss the way he flinches. "Aren't you tired of all this, Jack?" You ask quietly. "Always calculating. Always trying to get on top. You're trying so hard to make people like you...you can't see it when they actually do." Jack's hands are ice-cold when You slip your fingers through his own. he blusters in protest, tripping over his words as he tries to formulate a witty retort...but a light dusting of pink blooms along his cheekbones.
❄️ sincere affection is a foreign notion to Jack, and he skitters around it like a deer on a frozen lake. years of hypervigilance and rejection have him distrustful of your motivations, even when You speak your mind. "Surely this is some elaborate trick," Jack tells You once afternoon, when the pair of you are bundled up together under one ultra-long, snowflake-patterned scarf. "I'm still waiting for the big reveal, and I'm sure it'll be a showstopper." yet you're used to the pitfalls of Jack's paranoid mind, and You ask him, "What if the big reveal is that I think you look really cute when you're flustered?" without waiting for an answer, You capture his lips in a kiss. Jack is immediately reactive and whines softly into you, but You slide your arms over his shoulders and lock your fingers behind his back: reassuring him. keeping him safe. telling him it's okay to be vulnerable here.
❄️ nothing could have prepared you for what Jack's real love looks like. remarkably, Jack is restrained when he's being insincere: the actual depths of adoration he has for You are astonishing. he's physically clingy: always having a hand rest on your shoulder, or brushing his thigh against yours under the table. when you're alone he loves to envelop You, whether that's by drawing You in for an impromptu hug or falling asleep cuddling You like you're a teddy bear. his kisses (frequent and soft) leave small trails of ice crystals along your bare skin, and he always grins when You shiver. "Oh dear, are you cold, darling?" Jack asks with a wink. "It would appear my efforts to warm you up have been in vain. However...there's no harm if I keep trying, is there~?"
❄️ although he's freezing cold in the extremities, Jack isn't frozen all the way through. a gentle warmth exudes from Jack's chest, and You often spend your evenings intertwined with your head resting there, listening to the curious flutter of his trapped, searing heart. You murmur gentle words of affirmation into his neck, and delight in how he keens beneath You. when You look up at him, You adore the way his eyes sparkle. Jack is beautiful in the way only a snowflake can be: wholly unique, with hidden complexities even a lifetime wouldn't allow You to observe. Jack is wonderful. and Jack is yours.
You’re a young woman interested in the fantastical world of angels and demons and you seek out Professor Von Franz to mentor you in more ways than one.
(Slow burn, eventual smut, age gap, mentor/protege relationship, reader is in her 20s)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
It was a night like any other, you had retired to your bed long before Albin. He was leafing through a manuscript when he heard you groan. He found you doubled over into a fetal position, sweating profusely.
“Oh my dear, it’s happening isn’t it?”
You nodded, tears streaming down your face as the pain radiated from your abdomen. “Call Dr. Sievers” you managed to choke out. “He can explain how to help.”
Albin sat with you while you waited for Sievers. He had you grip his hand tightly through your pain, his other hand stroking your damp hair. While the pain was as blistering as ever, having him here to comfort you made a world of difference. Your family never bothered.
Dr. Sievers arrived and instructed the professor to apply cool rags to your head, but warm rags to your abdomen. He gave you a medicine to send you to sleep and left a surplus with Albin for the coming nights.
When you had finally fallen asleep, Albin and Dr. Sievers sat in the living room to discuss your ailment. “Sievers I know a bit more about what’s going on. I will not betray her confidence on the matter, but I need you to know that I am seeking a cure and if I find one I will be taking over where you started. No hard feelings my boy, but I cannot let her live like this.”
Sievers nodded, not fully believing Albin. He did not take your ailment for an occult mystery, simply a medical anomaly that left you suffering. There really was no cure, you’d been born that way.
“Whatever you see fit professor, after all she is your wife. These decisions are up to you now. She seemed better emotionally than she had been with her family at least, so good work.”
Albin walked Sievers out and huffed once the door closed. He disliked the comment about decisions of your wellness being left up to him. Just because you held the title of wife didn’t mean you couldn’t make your own decisions!
It was late and Albin was exhausted. He changed into night clothes and crawled into bed next to you, relieved that you were sleeping peacefully. He blew out the bedside candle and settled under the blankets. As sleep began to find him, he was jolted awake. You rolled over and laid against him, your arm over his chest and your head laying in the crook of his neck. This surprised him greatly and in any other circumstance he would’ve lightly moved you, but he couldn’t risk waking you up and starting another pain fit so in your embrace he remained.
The next morning you awoke to find the bed empty. The pain in your abdomen was still sharp, though the day time found some reprieve from your ailment.
As you attempted to get up, Albin rushed through the door with a tray in hand.
“Der Liebling don’t even think of getting out of that bed!” He shouted out. You giggled at his insistence and settled back into bed. He laid out a tray with herbal tea and bread with jam. “You need your rest my dear.”
You began to sip on the tea while you protested a bit. “Albin, how can I help you if I’m stuck in bed! I’ll be ok I promise.”
He smiled and pulled a book out, an alchemy manuscript you’d both been working through. “It’ll be a research day, I won’t deprive you of using your noggin while you’re not feeling well.”
You squeezed his hand, truly touched by his desire to help you learn AND help you feel better.
The two of you settled into a routine over the coming months. When you felt ok it was business as usual and you'd work on experiments and hunt around town for old tomes. Once the cursed time of the month arrived, Albin put you on bed rest and you researched and discussed from the comfort of your shared bedroom.
You grew very fond of him, delighted at his willingness to bring you into his life. He treated you as an equal in every sense of the word, leaving you to feel like the luckiest wife in Germany. Your platonic feelings had begun to morph into romantic ones, though you feared this would upset the idyllic life the two of you led so you kept it to yourself. You’d always found older men attractive, so finding your aged professor handsome wasn’t much of a stretch. With Albin it was beyond looks, he exuded a confidence that made him even more attractive.
He didn’t speak much to you of finding a potential treatment and you feared he would feel pressured if you asked so the subject wasn’t discussed. That changed about 7 months into your marriage when Albin found the book.
This book wasn’t any book, it was an old thing, nearly falling apart. It was written in German, but he had surmised the contents had been passed down from something far more ancient. It recounted stories of angels and man, but none that had ever made it into even apocryphal biblical texts. He knew this was the closest he’d come to finding an answer, but didn’t dare bring it to you until he had something more concrete.
More often than not you awoke to find him asleep at his desk, never coming to bed or attempting a proper rest. He would give half hearted answers about his studies and it worried you.
Finally, he found it. An answer. Hiding 300 pages into the decaying book Albin found an anecdote about a holy man who had rid a young woman of an angelic possession. He could finally tell you there was a chance.
He approached you one morning as you were sitting in the living room drinking tea and taking notes on an alchemy experiment from the previous evening.
“Der Liebling.” He greeted you and you looked up, seeing your husband nervously holding an old book.
“Good morning Albin, what’s that you have?” You asked, curious about the old book. It wasn’t one you’d seen him with before as he’d taken great care to obscure it from you so as to not get your hopes up.
He sat down next to you and placed the book on your lap. “It’s an answer my dear.”
Suddenly his late night research and withdrawn nature made sense, he had been trying to find a cure. You were genuinely speechless, moved by his great efforts to help you and nervous at what this answer could entail. You’d long feared a painful exorcism of some sort, considering that was how demons were removed it wasn’t a stretch to assume that the influence of an angel would be removed all that differently.
Albin opened the book to a dog eared page and began explaining.
“This is a book of first hand accounts of humans interacting with angels. They seem to be from all around the world dating from before Christ to the early Middle Ages. The entire thing is quite fascinating and once we get you feeling better it’s all yours to study. I found a story from a man in Greece. He was a holy man in love with a young woman, but his duty to his religion kept them apart, though they had expressed their love for one another through shared letters and prayers. Soon after his beloved began exhibiting symptoms shockingly similar to yours and she described a being attacking her similar to how you described the seraphim.”
Your eyes were wide as he told the story, suddenly feeling less lonely as you were able to connect to this ancient woman. He continued on.
“She was in so much pain she thought she was dying. Fearful that the end was near she came to her holy man and begged him to love her, every part of her, just once before she passed. He couldn’t deny her dying wish and he betrayed his faith to make love with her. Before they consummated their love he did a series of rituals and rites in an attempt to appease his God. The combination of those rites and the realization of their love in flesh saved her. He describes the light extinguishing from her and the pain never returning.”
You were so dumbfounded by the simplicity of it all you actually laughed.
“Why are you laughing!?” He asked, almost offended.
“Forgive me Albin, I’m not laughing at you or the explanation, I’m laughing at how simple it is. I simply need to have sex. That’s it.”
He furrowed his brow in frustration. “It’s not that simple Der Liebling.”
You raised your eyebrows in response. “Are the rites that difficult? You’re a master of the occult Albin, I assume we could make them work.” You had no doubt in his ability and were taken aback that he wasn’t confident.
“Of course I can manage those! The part you’re missing is the love. You can’t just go find some random man and have him fornicate with you. You have to love each other.”
Your mild chuckle from earlier gave way to a full on laughing fit at that. “Albin are you serious? The answer is obvious. It’s you! My husband!”
He gasped at this suggestion, legitimately shocked that you said it with such ease. Sure, he had developed feelings for you over the course of the months spent together, but he knew you must only view him as a teacher so he buried those feelings. How could a young beautiful thing like you be attracted to him or love him truly as a wife loves a husband.
You noticed his apprehension and brought your hand to his cheek. “My darling husband, you must be able to tell that I care for you, deeply. You care for me, you’re kind and brilliant. What’s not to love?”
He placed his hand over yours and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of your palm against his cheek. “I do love you, my wife, but I cannot imagine you feel about me the way I feel about you when I gaze upon your beauty.”
Knowing that words could not explain your feelings, you closed the distance between the two of you and pulled your professor into a kiss. He was shocked at first and did not kiss you back. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, which welled with tears. You knew he had not felt a loving touch in ages, if not ever. You leaned in again and this time he kissed you back, his fingers lacing into your hair, breaking loose the intricate braids atop your head.
After a moment you parted ways again. “Do you believe me now Albin? Will you be my Holy Man?”
He cupped your face into his hands and smiled, his signature wide eccentric grin. “It would be my greatest honor.”
The chamber is dark, lit only by a single guttering lantern. Light spills across the stone floor in wavering gold, and in the silence you hear the faint click of beads in Himejima’s hand. He kneels before you like a priest, head bowed, lips moving soundlessly in prayer. Even kneeling he dwarfs you.
Then the chanting stops. He lifts his blind eyes toward you, his presence filling the air like thunder pressing down on your chest. His voice is a low, measured rumble.
“You endured my training. You endured the weight of stone. The pain of the body. The breaking of the will. And still you remain. Now comes your final trial.”
He gestures for you to stand closer. When you do, his hands find you without hesitation—enormous, calloused palms smoothing along your shoulders as if in blessing. His touch is tender, almost reverent, but firm with purpose. You feel the rough fibers of rope brush your skin as he gathers your wrists behind your back.
“You will not move your hands. You will not speak aloud. You will not fall until I return to you.”
The rope bites slowly, deliberately, each knot tied with the same care he gives his rosary. He binds your wrists snug behind you, not cruelly tight but inescapable. Then his hands slide down your arms, following the length of your body until they guide your thighs.
“You will open for me,” he instructs, voice steady, heavy with expectation.
Your legs part under his command. He eases you downward, lowering you into a squat so deep your thighs already ache from the strain. The cold stone floor bites at your soles, unforgiving.
“Wider,” he says softly, and presses your knees apart with both hands until you are spread open, exposed entirely to him.
Your breath catches, but his hand rises again—not to touch you further, but to press a folded cloth over your eyes. Darkness swallows you as he ties the blindfold in place, his fingers brushing your temple with surprising gentleness.
“You will be unseen. You will be unheard. You will be unspent.”
His hand lingers a moment against your jaw, the weight of his thumb warm at the edge of your lips. Then he rises and steps back, the sound of his beads shifting as he resumes his prayer.
“Your mouth will carry my sutra. Over and over, in silence. Let the movement of your lips be your act of worship.”
You feel the echo of his steps retreating, the chamber deepening into isolation. Squatting low, thighs spread and bound in darkness, you are left trembling, the ache already gnawing into your legs. The silence is immense, heavy as stone. All you have is the rope cutting into your wrists, the blindfold, and the endless task he has set upon your mouth: the silent chant, spoken without sound, while your body is left raw and wanting.
And you realize—he has left you like this not for minutes. Not for hours. But for as long as he chooses.
...
Your thighs tremble almost immediately. The squat is deep, unrelenting. Rope bites into your wrists behind you, pinning your arms in a helpless arch. The blindfold cuts you off from the world; all you can do is tilt your head to catch faint currents of air, the smell of incense and stone filling your lungs.
You open your mouth and shape his sutra. No sound escapes — only the movement of lips, the silent breath of prayer. The words tremble on the edge of your tongue as the ache in your legs blooms hotter, but you refuse to falter.
Time loses edges. The first hour is simple discomfort; the second, a slow fire. By the third, your thighs are quaking, your knees threatening to collapse. Sweat prickles along your back, sliding down between your shoulder blades. You keep your lips moving, forming his chant again and again.
Your sex throbs, wet and heavy between spread thighs. Every shift of muscle sends a shiver of sensation through your core, but you don’t rut. You don’t grind against the stone. You stay perfectly still. Silent prayer. Spread open. Held.
At some point — hours, days, you can’t tell — you begin to hallucinate the sound of his beads sliding between his fingers. You whisper the sutra faster, then slower, anything to keep the rhythm. You imagine him hearing you, somewhere beyond the walls, listening to you endure.
...
The silence breaks when the door slides open. The air shifts — cedar smoke and temple ash, the sheer presence of him like a mountain settling on your chest. His beads clack softly as he steps into the chamber.
You are still squatting, still blindfolded, still bound. Your thighs shake violently now, but you haven’t collapsed. Your lips still move around his prayer, silent, trembling.
He stops in front of you. The air hums with his ragged inhale.
“…Unimaginable,” he whispers.
A massive hand cups your chin, tilts your blindfolded face upward. His thumb brushes your damp cheek. His touch is tender, but you can feel the tremor in it.
“You endured days in the flame of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low, reverent. “No rutting. No begging. Only prayer. You are…” His throat works, a low sound escaping him, almost a groan. “…sacred.”
The rope creaks as his other hand slides down, spreading his palm over your sternum, feeling your heart hammer through your chest. He rumbles a deep chuckle, heavy with awe.
“Even now, your body burns. Your sex weeps. But you hold yourself still. You are stronger than steel… stronger even than me.”
He leans close, his lips almost against your ear. His breath is hot, damp. “Do you know what it does to me, to see you kneel so open and not fall? You shame me. You make me weak.”
His thumb drags slowly over your lower lip, tracing the mouth that has been whispering his sutra all this time. “Still chanting. Still mine. You’ve become stone.”
For a moment he stills, the silence trembling like a prayer sealed in his chest. Then his voice roughens, darker, more desperate:
“But even stone must crack. And I will be the one to hear it break.”
Before you can draw breath, his hands engulf your body. Rope bites deeper into your wrists as he lifts you bodily from your kneeling posture, as effortless as plucking a cup from the altar. For a heartbeat you’re weightless against his towering chest—then the world tilts.
The stone groans beneath his weight as he lowers himself down—knees first, then spine, then shoulders spreading wide until the floor trembles. You are carried with him, guided, repositioned—until your knees frame his skull and you realize where he has put himself.
The Stone Hashira—giant, unbreakable—flat on his back, offering his face beneath you.
“You’ve given me endurance,” he growls, voice rumbling through your thighs as he settles you astride him. “Now give me surrender.”
His lips brush your slick folds, reverent, not consuming—just a slow breath against swollen flesh, a trembling taste. He doesn’t move further. Not yet. He holds still, letting you feel the hot quake of his breath against your clit, savoring, taunting, waiting to devour the crack in the stone he has finally laid himself low to worship.
“You are divine in your restraint,” he whispers, reverent, trembling. “But if I put my mouth to you… can even you resist me?”
...
He holds you aloft for a moment, your bound arms straining against the rope, blindfold still tight. He doesn’t move to devour you; instead, he lays there with you suspended above his mouth like an offering, inhaling your scent, letting it fill his lungs.
“Days of silence,” he murmurs, voice like a drumbeat in your bones. “Days of heat. And still you kneel. Still you chant.”
He tilts his head slightly, the tip of his nose brushing the inside of your thigh. “Do you feel what you’ve become? A shrine built on pain. A temple of restraint.”
His enormous hands tighten fractionally on your hips. “Do you know what it does to me to lift you like this? To smell you, to taste you, and know you’re still untouched?”
You hear the soft clatter of beads as he shifts one hand, pressing the wooden prayer-beads between his teeth for a heartbeat before releasing them. Then he presses his mouth, still closed, against your slick folds — just a firm, warm seal, not a kiss, not a lick.
A sound vibrates up through his chest. “Even your skin trembles like prayer,” he whispers.
He doesn’t yet open his mouth. He moves his face slowly from side to side, the bridge of his nose dragging along your inner thigh, the heat of his breath washing over you in steady waves. He’s tasting you without tasting, teasing you without giving. His lips ghost over your clit, never quite closing, and then retreat again.
“You’ve made me patient,” he rumbles. “But my patience is not endless.”
One hand slides up, covers your stomach, palm flat and heavy, pinning you gently against him. The other hand cups the back of your thigh, spreading you wider over his face until you’re straddling him fully. He tilts his head back and inhales again, the sound deep, guttural, like a man about to break his fast.
“Your thighs quake… your scent is a hymn…” His tongue finally flicks out — once — a single, deliberate stroke from your entrance to your clit. Then he retreats, his mouth closing again, a low chuckle rolling from him. “Still holding.”
Another slow drag of his tongue, this one circling your clit but never pressing hard enough to push you over. He pulls back, his lips glistening. “If I go further, will you still be stone?”
He does it again. And again. Each lick is measured, precise, a test. His tongue never stays in one place long enough to push you into climax; it coaxes, edges, circles, retreats. His breath and low chants vibrate against your sex, making you jolt with every sound.
“You’re trembling, little shrine,” he whispers. “But you’re still chanting. Even now.”
His mouth opens wider. His tongue presses a little harder, a little deeper, then withdraws completely, leaving you throbbing and empty. He licks his lips, tilts his blind eyes up under your blindfold as though he can see you. “Another hour? Another day? How long before the temple crumbles?”
He lowers you onto his mouth again, drawing a slow circle around your clit with the very tip of his tongue. This time, when he pulls back, he kisses you there softly, reverently, like a priest kissing an altar. “You are exquisite,” he breathes. “And I will enjoy every moment until you fall.”
...
Your thighs ache, your breath shudders through clenched teeth. The ropes saw into your wrists behind you, but you haven’t begged, haven’t writhed. Even blindfolded, you can sense the reverence in his silence as he circles your clit once more with that infuriatingly patient tongue.
Then his hands tighten.
“Enough,” he rumbles, voice like rolling stone.
The change is immediate. His mouth opens wide beneath you, sealing against your core in a hot, wet press. His tongue thrusts into you in one heavy stroke, curling, spreading, dragging slick against your inner walls until your entire body jerks. His lips close hard over your swollen clit, sucking fiercely, mercilessly.
The low growl in his chest vibrates through you. He isn’t teasing now. He is ravaging.
He pins your hips with both hands, enormous fingers digging into your flesh, locking you in place as his tongue drives up and down, then circles, then plunges again. Every movement is deliberate, rhythmic, crushing. His strength is absolute—there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“Fall,” he growls into your cunt between licks. “Fall for me.”
His breath hammers against you, his tongue flattening, curling, twisting with precision born not of hunger but of mastery. Every flick and suck is aimed to break you, to drag the orgasm out of your body whether you allow it or not.
You feel it build, searing through your belly, the ache in your legs forgotten beneath the raw flood of sensation. He edges you, pushes you to the brink, then eases just enough to let you teeter—only to slam you forward again with another fierce pull of his mouth.
“You are shaking,” he whispers against your clit, his lips brushing it like a kiss before sucking again, harder this time, enough to make your bound wrists strain until the rope saws you raw, skin blooming red. “Stone trembles. Even stone must break.”
His tongue thrusts deep again, curling, stroking, filling you with relentless precision. His nose grinds against your clit while his lips drag and suck, every sound from his throat turning into a low, vibrating prayer against your most sensitive flesh.
“You are divine,” he growls, sucking hard enough that your body spasms helplessly above him. “But I will make a god fall.”
His mouth works you with rigor, every stroke of his tongue an assault, every hard suck on your clit a command to fall. Your whole body jerks against him, bound wrists burning as you strain against the rope. Your thighs tremble around his head, muscles on fire.
The orgasm claws at you, raw and unbearable, but you don’t surrender.
You chant. Silent, lips trembling, breath ragged, but the sutra is still there. You mouth the words into the dark, each syllable pulling you back from the brink even as his mouth drags you closer.
His growl deepens. He feels your resistance. His tongue plunges harder, curling, stroking deep inside you while his lips clamp tight around your clit again. He sucks until you cry out against the gag of silence you’ve imposed on yourself — and still you don’t break.
“You resist me?” His voice is rough, ragged, wet with your slick. “You resist me?”
He redoubles his effort, his mouth devouring you now, wet and merciless. He pins you so tightly his fingers bruise your hips, his blind eyes clenched shut as though even he can’t bear to feel your body thrash above him without breaking.
But you hold. You teeter, shaking, your entire body on fire, and still you mouth the sutra.
A sound escapes him — not reverent this time, not composed. A low, guttural moan, desperate, almost broken.
“You shame me,” he groans into your cunt, tongue lashing frantically now. “I cannot move you. I cannot undo you. You… unmake me.”
He pulls back only for air, gasping, then drags his mouth to your clit again, sucking harder than before, abandoning rhythm, abandoning control. His prayers break into pieces, fragments of words swallowed in the wet sound of his mouth as he tries again and again to wrench the fall from you.
But you don’t give it to him.
He moans outright now, a sound thick with reverence and need, muffled by your body. His enormous hands shake against your thighs as though even his strength has limits.
“You are… too holy,” he groans raggedly, his mouth messy against you now, his composure shattered. “If you do not fall, I will.”
...
He is losing himself against you. His mouth works frantically now, his lips dragging, sucking, his tongue thrusting and circling without the precision he first showed. His prayers are broken things, fragments of words swallowed by your slick and his groans.
And still — still — you resist. Your lips shape the sutra in silence. Your body shakes but you do not fall.
A frustrated, guttural growl bursts from his chest. His hands, until now reverently steady on your thighs, move — trembling, desperate. One enormous palm shifts upward, closing over your breast. His thumb finds your nipple, pinches, twists, hard. The other hand squeezes the opposite breast, rough and merciless, kneading as though he could wring a cry out of you with sheer force.
The combination of his mouth engulfing your cunt and his thumbs torturing your nipples sends a shock through you so sharp your lips falter on the chant.
And he hears it.
“There,” he gasps against you, tongue lashing with new frenzy. “There! I heard you stumble.” His voice is gutted, shredded, panting. “Give me more.”
His fingers roll your nipples between them, tugging, pinching, twisting in rhythm with the savage pull of his mouth. His tongue presses deep inside you, then flattens to grind against your clit, again and again, faster, harder, until wet sounds echo loud in the chamber.
Your body jerks uncontrollably now. The ropes bite your wrists as you strain. A strangled sound bursts out of your throat — raw, involuntary, the first crack in the silence you’ve kept for days.
He moans into you, loud, unrestrained, trembling as though your noise shattered him too.
“Yes… yes…” His voice quivers, desperate and worshipful all at once. “Stone breaks. Even stone breaks.”
His teeth scrape lightly over your clit, his lips sucking with ruinous force, and his hands twist harder at your nipples, desperate to wring more sound, more surrender, from you.
Every movement is unholy now. His discipline is gone. He’s feral in his reverence, worshipping you with his ruin.
“You’ve undone me,” he growls, frantic, shaking his head against you like a man possessed. “Now… undo yourself for me.”
His mouth is messy on you now — no measured rhythm, no patience, just wet, relentless devotion. His tongue flicks and drags, plunges and circles, his lips clamped to your clit with ruinous force. At the same time his massive hands squeeze and knead your breasts, thumbs and fingers rolling your nipples mercilessly, tugging, twisting, pulling as if each small torment could wrench a scream from your chest.
You convulse, bound wrists jerking, body shaking, a sound rising in your throat — but you choke it back, biting down, still holding. Still chanting in silence.
He groans against you, loud and raw. His hands tighten on your breasts until the pain mingles with pleasure, and then you hear it — his voice breaking in a way you never imagined possible.
“Please,” he rasps into your cunt, sucking so hard your whole body seizes. “Please, make the sound for me. Let me hear you.”
His thumbs circle your nipples faster, pinching until you gasp, but he doesn’t relent. His mouth drags furiously, sucking and lapping as though he’s starving, his breath ragged and unholy.
“Fall for me,” he begs, voice muffled, desperate. “I need it — your cry, your ruin. I’ve prayed, I’ve held, but you… you are beyond me. Please. Let me have it. Give it to me.”
The plea vibrates through you, a shuddering groan torn straight from his chest. He’s lost all restraint, grinding his face into you, his tongue thrashing against your clit with abandon while his hands twist and torment your nipples with brutal insistence.
Your mouth falters on the chant again, breaking on a sob.
He hears it. He moans loud into you, the sound almost broken with relief. “Yes! That sound. Give me more. Scream for me. Cry for me. I beg you.”
His voice cracks on the last word. His fingers roll and pinch, his mouth sucks harder, his tongue strokes with frantic, reverent desperation. “You’ve undone me. Undo yourself. Please. Please—let me hear you fall.”
Your wrists blaze in their bindings, but you don’t even feel them anymore. The pleasure crests so sharp you can’t choke it back this time. The cry rips out of you — raw, loud, breaking the silence you’ve held for days.
And as your scream fills the chamber, his moan joins it, deep and shuddering, reverent in its ruin.
The first wave rips through you like lightning — violent, scorching, unending. Days of holding yourself taut, thighs aching, lips whispering his sutra in silence… all of it collapses in a single, brutal instant as his tongue drags you over the edge.
Your cry tears itself out of you, ragged and raw, echoing against the stone walls. Your thighs convulse around his head, your bound wrists jerking uselessly behind your back. You grind helplessly down onto his mouth, blindfold soaked with tears as every restraint breaks.
But he doesn’t relent.
Pinned under you, Himejima groans into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you like another hand. His tongue thrashes, lapping, thrusting deep inside you, then flattening to drag mercilessly over your clit. His lips suck with ferocious force, refusing to let you rise from him, dragging every spasm out of your ruined body.
His massive arms wrap around your back and thighs, locking you in place against his face. His fingers clutch your bound wrists, pressing them into the small of your back as though anchoring you to him. You’re pressed into him fully now, your hips grinding into his mouth as he devours you like a starving man at worship.
The second orgasm crashes before the first has ended. Then a third. Your body jerks violently, cries spilling from your throat no matter how you try to choke them back. You ride his face uncontrollably, blind and shaking, your cunt spilling slick over his mouth as he groans louder, his need and awe tangled together.
“Yes…” he moans, voice muffled, desperate against your flesh. “Yes… louder. Break for me. You are holy in ruin.”
His tongue spears into you again, curling hard, then slides up to circle your clit with merciless precision. His arms crush you closer, forcing you to rut against his face whether you will it or not. Your thighs quake against his broad skull, your body convulsing as he drags climax after climax out of you.
You collapse fully then, down onto him, straddling his face, your weight sinking as you sob and scream. Your cheek presses to the cold stone infront you, blindfolded in darkness, wrists bound tight — while below, his mouth worships you still.
You feel his moans reverberate through your swollen flesh, every sound an offering. His nose grinds against your clit as he groans and licks, your own juices running down his chin. His arms hold you so tightly you can barely breathe, but the embrace feels like reverence, not restraint — as though he’s holding together a sacred thing unraveling in his arms.
The orgasms wrack you until you’re boneless, spasming weakly, body crumpled forward onto the floor while your hips remain welded to his face. Only when you’re trembling and limp does he ease his mouth, pressing a long, reverent kiss to your soaked folds.
And even then, he doesn’t let you go. His arms cradle your shaking form, enormous hands spanning your back as he breathes raggedly into you. His voice is hoarse, trembling with awe.
“You lasted longer than stone. But in the end… even mountains fall. And I am blessed to have felt it.”
Hiya! Came from Kofi to send the request! (lmk if this is too late tho!)
So for it, could it be a few characters w conquerors Haki (shanks, Luffy, Law and zoro in particular) x reader who also has conquerors but has kept it hidden from them until a certain scenario that puts them at great risk, but their Conquerors is uncontrollable, like it comes out in strong, violent but exhausting bursts? (Like, for example a battle that’s gone extremely wrong) Sorry if this request is too detailed, feel free to change it if you want to!
Rap1d <3
Conqueror's Haki
gn!reader
characters: shanks, luffy, law and zoro
a/n: I tried to make them all different and I got a bit creative with the haki so it might not be 100% canon, butI hope you'll like them all anyway. also, thank you for your request on my ko-fi aw
words count: around 1.5k - 2.5k each
masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi
── .✦ Shanks:
tags: action romance, angst with comfort, haki awakening, slow burn
The island is quiet… too quiet.
You step off the ship last, keeping your hood up and eyes down. The Red Force creaks behind you as the crew spreads out on the broken, overgrown shore. Huge stone ruins stretch beyond the trees, half-swallowed by moss and time.
“Spread out!” Shanks calls to everyone, voice light, but sharp with command “Don’t wander too far. This place gives me the creeps.”
He’s smiling, but his eyes scan the jungle ruins like they’re hiding something.
You don’t answer, you never do more than you need to. They think you’re shy, maybe even strange, but that’s fine. It’s better than them knowing the truth.
Benn nods at you as he passes. You just nod back and slip into the shadows of the trees.
You're always careful, even now, with something thrumming in your chest, a familiar itch under your skin. It’s like the air is buzzing. Not with danger exactly, but something.
Then you hear a bell. One, deep, echoing sound, as if it’s inside your skull.
Your knees buckle.
BOOM.
Your head snaps back and pain cracks through your mind like lightning. You gasp, hands clutching your head. You fall.
Then everything goes black.
When your eyes finally open again, everything is wrong.
The forest is melting. The ground shifts. You see the crew running, some screaming, others swinging their swords at air. Their eyes are wide, wild.
Illusions.
No… you are doing this.
Your Haki is loose, too strong. You can feel it pouring out of you like blood. You hear voices whispering, screaming, some crying.
You try to hold it back.
“Stop, please stop,” you whisper, grabbing your head “No, no, not again!”
Then you see him.
Shanks stands in front of you. Calm. Red hair glowing in the haze. His mouth moves, but you can’t hear him over the noise. Everything is too loud.
You scream and blast out more Haki without meaning to. A wave slams into the forest, and the ground cracks. Trees split.
He doesn’t move.
You snarl “GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Your arm moves on its own. A strike. Laced with deadly will.
Shanks dodges. Barely.
But he doesn’t look angry, just… sad and worried.
“Y/N,” he says your real name. The one you never told anyone.
You freeze “How do you…?”
“I know who you are,” he says, taking one slow step forward “I always did.”
You blink “You… why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you’re not the monster you think you are.”
Your knees shake.
Your power lashes out again, like it’s trying to protect you from him and from the truth. You don’t want to hurt him but it seems like your “powers” want to and now you’re afraid you can.
You scream again, this time with words “I CAN’T STOP IT!”
“I can,” he says, voice low and gentle, “But you have to let me.”
The storm in your head won’t stop.
You're still on your knees. The world is bent, twisted. The crew is somewhere behind Shanks, most of them unconscious or curled on the ground, barely breathing under the weight of your unleashed Haki.
But Shanks stands firm, calm as always calm, and watching as always.
“You knew?” you whisper, voice hoarse.
He nods once “I felt it the day you stepped on my ship.”
You look down, shame crawling up your throat like bile.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you were scared,” he says simply “and because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”
You laugh dry and broke, “I was never gonna be ready.”
“I know.” He takes another step closer “But now you have to be.”
The air between you flickers. Your Haki crackles again, out of control. His coat flutters from the force of it, but he doesn’t flinch.
“I tried so hard to keep it hidden,” you say “Ever since—”
Your throat closes. The memory flashes… the faces, the silence, the bodies on the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“I killed people, Shanks,” you whisper “Back then. Friends. I didn’t mean to. But it still happened.”
“I know…” he says again. No judgment. Just understanding.
“And now look at what I’ve done. I could’ve killed your crew. You.”
“You didn’t,” he says “And I wouldn’t let you.”
“I can’t even find a way to control it.” you say, voice cracking.
“Then I’ll help you.” His voice sharpens “Starting now.”
You blink “What?”
“I’m not letting you keep poisoning yourself like this.” Shanks says “Holding it in. Pretending to be small. You’re a Conqueror, Y/N. Hiding it won’t make it go away.”
“You don’t get it!”
“I do.” he interrupts, stepping close enough that his shadow falls over you “I lived with it too. I saw what it could do. And I nearly lost myself once.”
You look up. His face is serious, but not angry at you, more like furious for you.
“I’m not mad that you lied,” he says “I’m mad that you thought you had to carry this alone. That you thought no one would stay if they saw who you really are.”
Your lips tremble.
“I’m still here,” he says “And I’m not leaving.”
You look away “And if I hurt you again?”
“Then I’ll get back up,” he says “And we try again. I’m not that easy to hurt, you know?”
He crouches in front of you. His voice lowers, almost a whisper.
“But if you keep suppressing this power… it’ll tear you apart. I won’t let that happen.”
“…Why?” you ask.
He gives you a tired, crooked smile.
“Because you’re family now,” he says “And maybe… maybe something more… aren’t we?”
Your heart stutters.
You stare at him and then, for the first time since the bell rang, everything bad begins to fade.
The world dims too fast.
You stand there, still trembling from the chaos you caused, breath ragged. The last pieces of your illusions dissolve into nothing. And then your knees give out, but you don’t hit the ground.
One strong arm catches you, wrapping around your back just before your body falls. It’s warm and steady. The smell of sea salt and wind and something sharp like steel fills your nose.
Shanks.
You feel him lower you gently to the forest floor, cradling your head with care you didn’t expect.
His voice is low, like barely above a whisper, and comes from right beside your temple.
You feel something soft and warm against your skin. A kiss.
Then, he says softly “…I’ve got you now.”
You’re not sure if you’re dreaming, but you don’t have the strength to ask him to repeat it.
The world fades once more, and for the first time in a long time, you feel safe when you fall.
The days after that change everything.
You wake up in your hammock on the Red Force, aching all over but alive. Shanks keeps his promise. No more hiding.
Every day, he trains with you. No excuses. No delays.
At dawn, he knocks on your door.
“You ready?” he grins, sword on his back, hair a mess “The ocean’s not gonna wait.”
You groan every time “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” he chuckles “Get up.”
It’s hell.
Haki training with someone like him? Brutal.
You break things. You nearly knock yourself out three times. Shanks doesn’t flinch. He blocks every wild burst, redirects it, makes you feel what it’s supposed to do.
It’s exhausting, every bone in your body aches, but you’re getting stronger, you can feel it, little by little, as your power listens to you more and more.
You’re also getting used to the way he watches you. Not just as a captain.
You catch the way his eyes soften when you pass him water. The way his hand lingers a second longer on your shoulder. The way he smiles a little more when it’s you who says something stupid.
A week later, the sun is setting red across the deck. You drop to the floor, sweating, gasping, eyes half-open.
“I give up…” you wheeze “That’s it. I’m dying. Tell the crew I went out fighting.”
Shanks laughs “That was only round four.”
You roll onto your back “ONLY? Please, Shanks. I’m begging you. My soul has left my body.”
He walks over, casting a long shadow over you.
You blink up at him “Have mercy, o Great One.”
There’s a long pause and then he sighs loudly and dramatically “…Fine. You win.”
You stare “Wait. Really?”
He shrugs “You’re too cute when you’re pathetic.”
You flush “Shanks!”
He grins “You looked like you were gonna cry. I’m not that heartless.”
You sit up slowly, still catching your breath “You kind of are.”
“Not with you. It’s obvious.”
That makes you pause.
Your eyes meet.
For a moment, you don’t say anything and he doesn’t either.
Then he reaches out and ruffles your hair in a lazy, warm and soft way.
“Come on,” he says “Dinner’s waiting. You earned it.”
“…You’re paying me in soup?”
“Best deal on the sea.” he says with a grin.
You narrow your eyes “What? No gold, no praise, no back rubs?”
He smirks “What? You prefer a kiss?”
You blink once, then shrug and nod, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah. Why not? It’s not an offer I receive often.”
He stares at you for a second, then he laughs in a low, surprised sound coming from his chest.
“You’re serious?” he says, voice amused.
You tilt your head “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He steps closer, slow and still smiling, but now there’s something softer in his eyes. A little heat. A little fondness.
“Careful,” he says “Keep asking like that, and I’ll think you like me.”
“Maybe I do, who knows.”
He leans in, tilting his head, face just inches from yours.. his breath brushes your lips “You’re playing with fire.”
You shrug again, eyes half-lidded “You started it.”
There’s a pause. His smile fades, not in a bad way, but into something more real. His eyes search yours.
Then he does it.
No hesitation.
Just a soft, warm kiss.
A small one. Barely more than a breath. But it’s gentle, certain… like it’s not your first, like it’s not a surprise to either of you.
When he pulls back, his voice is low and a little rough “Better than soup?”
You nod again, lips tingling “Way better.”
He laughs, ruffles your hair again like he’s trying to play it cool, but you feel the tension in his hand “Alright, soup and a kiss. Don’t say I never spoil you.”
You roll your eyes, still blushing “Guess I’ll survive another training session.”
He walks beside you, bumping your shoulder with his, and says quietly, “You’re doing better than you think, y’know.”
And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.
── .✦ Luffy:
warning and tags: wano arc but not everything is canon, blood, protective luffy, action, established relationship
The ground is shaking.
Smoke curls through the broken halls of Kaido’s fortress. Screams echo. Fire burns overhead. Onigashima is falling apart.
You slice down another Beast Pirate with quick, clean precision. Jinbe is at your side, holding the line. Chopper is behind you, patching up wounded civilians. You’re tired. Blood clings to your arms and your lungs ache, but that’s not the problem.
The problem is the pressure in your chest and your skull, like something inside you is waking up, and it hurts.
You keep moving.
“Keep going! Down the right tunnel!” Jinbe shouts, ushering the last few kids through.
A flash of movement catches your eye.
Nami turns, eyes wide “Behind you!”
You pivot just in time… actually, too late.
A hulking figure crashes through the rubble, one of Kaido’s commanders, tall like a mountain, with black Haki curling off his fists like fire. He charges toward the children and toward Nami, and here something in you snaps.
You don’t think. You don’t scream. You just move.
You shove Nami out of the way and take the hit head-on. His punch is like a cannon. Your ribs scream as your knees hit the stone floor. Blood spits from your mouth.
You can’t breathe.
The world rings but it’s not just from the hit.
It’s a sound like a bell, deep and hollow and ancient. Not real. Not actually here. You hear it inside.
A voice slips from your throat, raw, torn “Stay away from them—!”
The air shatters and a wave explodes out from your chest. The sky outside splits. The berserker’s eyes roll back as he drops like dead weight.
Jinbe staggers. Chopper screams your name. Even Zoro, far off on another rooftop, pauses mid-swing, brow furrowing as the pressure hits him.
It keeps coming…
The Haki doesn’t stop, you can’t stop it. It surges out in violent, wild waves, like thunder rolling from a broken dam.
You feel it leave you, piece by piece. Each pulse is a part of you being torn out.
You’re trembling, drenched in sweat and barely conscious.
Your vision swims, your fingers twitch and you fall to your knees.
Somewhere above, midair Luffy freezes.
His punch stops mid-swing. Kaido growls, confused but Luffy isn’t listening.
He feels a Haki that is not Kaido’s, not his… but yours.
Wild. Bleeding. Crashing into his soul like a scream “...Y/N?”
He doesn’t think, he just moves.
Gear Fifth blurs. His form stretches and streaks down the battlefield like lightning. He crashes down where he feels you are.
And there you are, collapsed on the ground with blood on your lip. Shaking like a leaf, eyes barely open but still trying to push yourself up… even now.
Luffy lands beside you, fast “Hey! Oi Y/N!”
You try to smile even if it’s weak. There’s blood in your teeth as well “Sorry… I didn’t mean to…”
“Shut up.” He grabs you before your head hits the stone. Bringing you close to him even if his arms are shaking, but not from fear, from rage.
Not at you.
At himself. At Kaido. At whoever made you think you had to do all this. And alone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says. His voice is low, not his usual bark. Gentle, but fierce “Why didn’t you say you could do all this? Did you know?”
You blink. It’s getting hard to see “I knew… I just didn’t want you to look at me like a weapon…”
Luffy stares and for a second, the battlefield disappears.
Then he presses his forehead to yours “Why would you even think I’d think of you as a weapon.”
His voice is shaking “I never will.”
You feel it in his Haki being calm, steady, his. It wraps around you like a promise.
“We’re nakama. That means you don’t have to carry stuff alone.”
Then, quieter, more serious than you’ve ever heard him “Next time you’re scared… tell me, okay?”
You nod, weakly. The last thing you feel before you pass out is his hand squeezing yours “I’m here. Don’t worry.”
Later you wake up to noise. Not chaos. Not screams or thunder or crumbling stone.
But music, laughter and fireworks crackling far away, soft and bright.
Your eyes flutter open, slow and heavy. Your body feels like it’s been wrung out and stitched back together… sore, but whole. You’re warm, tucked under light blankets, and the bed sways gently under you.
And you’re not alone.
Luffy is there, slumped forward with his upper body leaned over the edge of your bed. He’s sitting on a chair, arms folded under his head, fast asleep. His hand is holding yours tightly, like even in sleep, he refuses to let go.
His hat is resting on the bed, near your legs. His hair is messy, sticking out in all directions. His face looks peaceful in a way you rarely get to see.
You smile soft and small. You reach out slowly with your free hand and brush his hair back from his forehead “Luffy…”
His eyes snap open instantly. His head jerks up, groggy for half a second… then wide, panicked eyes meet yours.
“Y/N?! You’re awake?! You’re awake! Oh crap, are you okay?! How do you feel?! Is anything hurting?! Can you breathe okay?! Wait, don’t move! I’ll get Chopper right now—!!”
He starts to scramble up, already shouting.
You grab his wrist before he can bolt “Luffy. Hey. Breathe, okay?”
He freezes, blinking at you.
You squeeze his hand gently “I’m fine. I can move, I can talk, I’m not dead. You don’t have to yell.”
His mouth opens, but then he huffs out a breath and slumps, like all the tension leaks out at once “You scared me so bad…”
“I could say the same, you know,” you murmur “You were fighting Kaido. I didn’t know if…”
You trail off. You don’t need to say it.
Outside, the crew is still celebrating. People are laughing, yelling, singing in the distance. The drums of Wano’s freedom still beat.
“You won.” you say softly.
Luffy grins, tired, but proud “Yeah. We won.”
“Then what are we doing here?” You sit up slowly “Let’s go outside and eat something already. I’m starving. My stomach’s been screaming since I woke up.”
Luffy blinks at you and then he laughs “You always say that.”
“You’re the one judging?” you say, pushing the blankets off.
But just as you’re about to swing your legs over the side of the bed, Luffy stops you with a hand on your shoulder “Wait.”
You glance at him, confused.
His face is serious now, not panicked, not scared. Just... steady.
“After all this… and once you’re really better… I’m gonna help you train your Haki.”
You blink “Luffy—”
“No hiding it anymore,” he says, voice low but firm “I don’t care how messy it is. You don’t have to go through that alone. I wanna help. So promise me you’ll let me.”
Your heart squeezes.
You hold up your pinky “Okay. I promise.”
He lights up as his pinky links with yours. firm, warm, unbreakable.
“Good!” he says.
Outside, someone calls for more dango. Brook starts playing again. Sanji yells something about skewers.
Luffy grins at you, helping you stand “C’mon. Let’s eat everything they’ve got.”
You laugh “You read my mind.”
Luffy’s hand is in yours as you weave through the crowd, his grin wide enough to split the sky. He’s already juggling three skewers of dango in his free hand, two of them obviously meant for you.
“First we eat,” he says between bites, “then you can rest a little, then tomorrow—no, the day after, we can start your Haki training. I’ve got so many ideas, like, we can fight on the Sunny’s mast, and Chopper can—”
You lean into him, warm and close, bumping your shoulder against his “Luffy…”
He keeps going “—and Zoro can also help, like he can show you that thing with his swords, and—”
You stop walking just long enough to tip your head up and plant a quick peck on his lips.
He blinks “Huh?”
You do it again and again. Little, fast kisses that make his voice trip over itself.
“Wha—hey, wait—” He starts laughing, the words falling apart into a grin.
You grin back “You were talking too much.”
“But I—” Another kiss and he snorts “Oi, I was—” KISS “Okay, okay!” He’s full-on laughing now, head tilting toward you like he can’t help it.
You wrap your arm around his middle as you start walking again, pulling him close into a comfortable side hug.
“I like that you want to train me, captain,” you murmur, “but right now… just stay here with me. Eat. Celebrate. Be happy. That’s all I want tonight.”
Luffy hums, mouth already full again “Fine. But I’m still making that training plan.”
You press your forehead against his shoulder, smiling “You can make it tomorrow.”
Outside a food stall, Usopp is bragging loudly to a group of kids, and Sanji is arguing with Zoro over the best skewers and drinks. The night feels endless and for once, it’s even, finally, peaceful.
Luffy squeezes your hand “Okay. But when we start training… I’m not holding back.”
“Good,” you say “Neither will I.”
And then you take the dango from his hand and pop the first one in your mouth before he can stop you.
── .✦ Law:
tags: dressrosa arc (not 100% canon), slow burn, tension, banter, strawhat allies, reader is friend with usopp
The sun is brutal in Dressrosa. You tug your hood lower, walking close to the wall’s shadow.
“Why are we sneaking around?” you whisper.
Usopp glances back, whispering fast “Because this place is crawling with bad guys, and I’d rather not get stabbed before lunch.”
You grin “You always were a coward.”
“I call it strategic survival,” he says, puffing his chest a little “But hey, I’m glad you came. Been a long time since Syrup Village.”
You shrug “You asked for help, so I’m staying as long as it takes.”
Before Usopp can reply, a cold voice cuts through the street “You’re late.”
You turn. A tall man stands there in a spotted hat and long black coat. Dark eyes sweep over you like he’s already judged you in one glance.
Usopp gestures quickly “Law, this is my old friend. They’re here to help.”
Law doesn’t move, doesn’t smile “I didn’t ask for help.”
You cross your arms “And I didn’t ask for your opinion. I’m here to help my friend, not you, asshole.”
Usopp looks between you, sweating “Let’s… maybe not fight each other before the enemy shows up?”
Too late.
A loud crash echoes nearby. People scream, running past you. A group of armed men appear, charging straight toward you.
Law steps forward, drawing his nodachi “Stay out of my way.”
You smirk, pulling your own weapon “You wish.”
You both lunge at the same time, his blade slicing clean, your strike knocking one man into the wall.
“Not bad.” you say, kicking another away.
Law says nothing, but you catch the small, almost invisible curl at the edge of his mouth.
A sword whistles past your head. You duck, slash, pivot.
“Watch it!” you shout.
“Then don’t stand there.” Law snaps, kicking an enemy into your line.
You grab the man’s collar and throw him back at Law, he cuts him down without looking.
“Nice pass.” you say, smirking.
Law doesn’t look at you “Keep moving.”
Another wave charges in. You and Law split without speaking, he goes high, you go low. You sweep legs, he cuts throats.
Usopp shouts from behind, “Could you guys stop flirting and just win already?!”
You almost choke “How is this flirting to you?”
Law’s mouth twitches “You’d know if it was.”
You glare but don’t miss the man sneaking up on him and so your blade flashes, blocking the strike inches from his neck.
He glances sideways “…Thanks.”
You grin “Don’t mention it.”
The street clears fast, bodies down, dust in the air. You wipe sweat from your brow, heart still pounding.
Law sheaths his sword “Not bad.”
You raise a brow “Is that your version of a compliment?”
He starts walking away “Don’t get used to it.”
Usopp runs to catch up, whispering, “You two are so going to kill each other or kiss.”
You watch Law’s back and mutter, “Maybe both.”
The three of you slip into a narrow alley. The street noise fades, replaced by the sound of Usopp panting.
You lean against the wall “Okay… so who is he, exactly?”
Usopp blinks “Who?”
You give him a flat look “The guy in the hat who fights like a weirdo and talks like I don’t exist.”
Usopp glances toward the corner where Law is standing, silent, scanning the street. He lowers his voice “You really never heard of him?” You shake your head so he continues “He’s Trafalgar Law. Captain of the Heart Pirates.”
“Then why is he here with you?” you ask “I mean, where’s his crew?”
Usopp fidgets “It’s… complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“I’m not sure I can—”
“Usopp.” You cross your arms “We’ve known each other for years. You can tell me.”
He winces “It’s not that I don’t trust you… it’s just… he’s not exactly chatty about his business.”
You glance at Law “Yeah, I noticed. I asked him a simple question earlier and he acted like I’d asked for his blood type.”
Usopp shrugs helplessly “That’s just him. He’s like… a big wall with a sword.”
You mutter, “A rude wall.”
Law turns his head slightly, as if he heard you, but doesn’t say a word, he just walks toward the street again.
You push off the wall, irritated “Fine. Don’t tell me anything. But I will find out.”
Usopp sighs “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
You follow after Law anyway, your steps are a little too loud on purpose. If he’s going to keep acting like you don’t exist, you’re going to make damn sure he notices you.
The air in Dressrosa feels heavier as minutes or even hours pass, like the whole island is holding its breath. From the rooftop, you can see the chaos starting to boil in the streets below.
You spot Law, standing at the edge, eyes locked on the palace. He’s already planning a hundred moves ahead.
You walk up beside him “So, what’s the plan?”
He doesn’t look at you “You don’t need to know.”
You bite back a scoff “You realize I’m going into the fight too, right? I’d rather not be swinging in the wrong direction while you’re doing… whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Stay out of my way and you won’t be a problem.” he says flatly.
That’s it.
You step in front of him “Listen, Captain Iceberg, I’m not here to babysit myself while you play secret warlord games. Usopp trusts me. And so do the Strawhats. I’ve fought beside you already. You can either tell me what’s going on, or I’ll make my own plan, and it might not fit yours.”
For the first time, his gaze snaps to yours. Cold. Sharp. Measuring.
“You’d risk ruining everything just to make a point?”
You smirk “Only if you keep treating me like I’m useless.”
A long, tense silence. Then “Fine.”
He glances back toward the palace “We’re going after Doflamingo. My crew isn’t here because I left them out of this part of the plan. The Strawhats are… useful, but unpredictable. Which means I need someone who can keep up without being a liability.”
“Is that supposed to be you complimenting me again?”
“It’s me telling you I expect you to survive. Just that.” he says simply.
That hits harder than you expect.
From behind, Usopp calls, “Are we going or what?!”
Law turns to leave, brushing past you “Stay close to me.”
You grin to yourself before following “Guess I’m not useless after all.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The palace gates loom ahead, guarded by a wall of Doflamingo’s men.
Law’s voice is low “We hit fast. You follow my lead.”
You smirk “You sure you don’t want to follow mine for once?”
His lips twitch “You’d get us killed.”
“Or win faster.”
You don’t wait for permission, you sprint forward, sliding under the first soldier’s swing and slashing his leg. Law appears beside you in a blink, cutting down two more before they can touch you.
“Show-off.” you mutter.
“You started it.” he says, eyes scanning for the next target.
The fight turns into a blur, your movements syncing without thinking. You kick an enemy into Law’s blade and he pulls another straight into your strike with a flick of his sword.
At one point, he steps close, his coat brushing your arm as he blocks an attack meant for you “You’re distracted.”
“You’re in my space.”
“It’s keeping you alive.” he says, voice low.
Your heart jumps, but you shove another enemy back “If you wanted me close, you could’ve just said so.”
For a split second, his eyes lock with yours, dark, unreadable, but lingering just a little too long. Then he turns, slicing down the last guard.
The palace doors are clear. He gestures forward “After you.”
You raise a brow “Gentleman all of a sudden?”
His mouth curves slightly “Don’t get used to it.”
You grin and push the doors open, the sound of battle still pounding in your chest, and not all of it from the fight.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Dressrosa shakes with the sounds of battle.
You’re in the streets below the palace, cutting through wave after wave of Doflamingo’s men. Your chest is already tight, not from the fight, but from the flashes you catch above.
Up there, Luffy and Law are facing Doflamingo.
Your eyes keep flicking upward between strikes. Every time Doflamingo’s strings lash toward Law, your stomach knots. Every time Law stumbles, you feel your heart drop.
“Focus!” someone yells as a blade scrapes your arm.
You grit your teeth, shove the man back, but your gaze still finds Law. He’s bleeding, moving slower. You can understand that look, he’s near his limit.
Then it happens… Doflamingo darts in fast, leg cocked back, about to slam a kick right into Law’s head.
“No!” Your voice rips out, raw. You sprint toward the palace wall, ready to climb, fight, something, but Doflamingo’s crew blocks you.
“Stay down.” one sneers, shoving you back.
“MOVE!”
A massive wave bursts out of you, raw and violent, it’s your Conqueror’s Haki spilling out uncontrolled. The air bends, the ground shakes, dozens of enemies collapse instantly. Even those still standing freeze, their eyes wide.
Above, the fight actually stops. Luffy’s head snaps toward you. Law’s eyes widen. Even Doflamingo pauses mid-kick, stepping back from Law with a slow, amused smile.
“Well, well,” Doflamingo laughs, voice dripping with mockery “And here I thought you were just the surgeon’s little shadow.”
Your knees give out, you didn’t mean to release that much. Your body feels hollow, your vision blurred. Suddenly, you’re in the middle of their battlefield, unarmed, barely able to stand.
Doflamingo tilts his head “Interesting. Looks like you’ve got more bite than I thought… and judging by that look… ” his smirk flicks toward Law “...you’ve got a thing for him. I could end you first to see if it’s mutual… But you’ll never know.”
You try to answer, but you can’t even breathe right.
Law’s voice cuts through, low but fierce “Shut up.”
Doflamingo chuckles darkly, but you don’t hear the rest. Law’s arm is suddenly around you, pulling you close. His other hand moves in a practiced gesture.
“Shambles.”
The world spins and in a blink, you’re somewhere else, far from the battlefield, lying on the cold floor of a half-ruined house.
Law sways, blood dripping from his chin, but his eyes stay locked on yours.
“You shouldn’t be there,” he mutters, breath ragged “You’ve done enough.”
Your voice is barely a whisper “I wasn’t going to let you die.”
He stares at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze, before leaving back to the battle.
Your eyes flutter open and the first thing you see is Law… alive, well enough to stand, crouched beside you with bandages in his hands.
The relief slams into you so hard you sit up faster than you thought possible “You’re alive!”
Before you think, you bring your arms wrapping tight around his neck. He stiffens instantly, but you don’t care, your face is pressed into his shoulder, hot tears blurring your vision.
“I’m so, so happy you’re okay.” you say, voice breaking.
Then you lean back enough to look at him, and in that moment of adrenaline and raw relief, you kiss him. Quick, unthinking, desperate.
He goes utterly still, not even breathing.
The frozen reaction hits you like a punch. You pull back fast “I—sorry! I didn’t mean—” You bow so low your forehead nearly hits your knees “Please forgive me!”
For a second, the silence feels like it’s going to crush you.
“…Stand up.” His voice is quieter than usual.
You look up hesitantly. He’s still a little stiff, but there’s a faint red flush on his face. He clears his throat “I have a question.”
Your heart is in your throat “Y-yeah?”
He meets your eyes “Do you want to join my crew?”
For a moment, your brain just… stops. Then the words click.
You shoot up straight, eyes bright “You mean…? You’re serious?!”
He looks away, mumbling, “You’d be… useful.” The tips of his ears are scarlet.
Your grin spreads wide as you nod so fast you might get dizzy “Yes! Absolutely, yes!”
When you see how flustered he is, trying very hard to look calm, you’re pretty sure he didn’t hate the kiss after all.
── .✦ Zoro:
tags: humor, established relationship, competitive couple, protective zoro
The streets of the port town are loud with chatter and clanging bells. Colorful banners wave overhead, advertising food stalls, games… and something that catches Usopp’s eye instantly.
“Hey… HEY, look at that!”
He stops so suddenly that Chopper almost bumps into him. The sniper points to a massive poster plastered on the side of a tall building. In bold letters:
“ANNUAL SWORDSMEN’S TOURNAMENT — PROVE YOUR SKILL, WIN THE LEGENDARY BLADE!”
You follow his finger and grin “Oh?”
Beside you, Zoro is still reading so you say “Can’t even read?”
His arms cross. His smirk is slow, dangerous “Legendary blade, huh…”
Your fingers curl around the hilt of your own sword “Guess we’ll see who deserves it more, huh?”
Zoro turns his head toward you, a spark in his eye “You think you can take me?”
You tilt your chin up, returning the smirk “I know I can.”
For a second, it’s just the two of you staring each other down… lovers, sure, but also rivals at heart. Then, without a word, you both break into a run toward the registration tent.
Behind you, the crew watches.
Sanji groans, already lighting a cigarette “Great. Here we go.”
Nami puts a hand to her face “This is going to be a disaster.”
Usopp sighs dramatically “A match from hell…”
Brook laughs, his bony jaw clacking “Yohoho! I can’t decide who to bet on!”
Luffy, meanwhile, is just bouncing excitedly “Two of us in the same tournament?! This is gonna be AWESOME!”
By the time you and Zoro reach the sign-up table, you’re both slightly out of breath, but neither of you will admit it. You slam your name down right after his on the registration sheet.
Zoro glances at you sideways “Hope you don’t cry when you lose.”
You flash him a sharp grin “Hope you don’t.”
Somewhere behind you, a vendor mutters to another, “Oh no. They both signed up? The arena might not survive…”
The tournament ring isn’t what you expected.
Instead of one-on-one matches, the organizers have gathered all contestants into a massive, sand-filled arena surrounded by roaring spectators. Nearly thirty swordsmen of every shape, size, and fighting style crowd the space, blades drawn, eyes scanning for their first target.
You frown, adjusting your grip on your sword “Seriously? I thought this was gonna be by turns.”
Zoro stands beside you, unbothered “Guess not.”
Across the arena, a man with two massive cleavers spits into the dirt. Another contestant spins their twin blades theatrically. Somewhere, someone’s already yelling a battle cry.
Zoro smirks, tilting his head toward you “Let’s finish them all and clear the ring. Then we can fight.”
You glance at him, your mouth tugging into a slow grin “Yeah. They’re too weak anyway. No fun.”
The announcer’s voice booms from the stands “READY, SET… BEGIN!”
It’s chaos immediately. Blades clash. Dust flies. Someone screams as they’re knocked into the barrier.
You and Zoro don’t rush. You just move fluidly, efficiently. He cuts through the first wave with a single swing of his katana, sending three men sprawling unconscious. You sidestep an incoming strike and knock your attacker’s sword clean from his hands before booting him out of the ring.
“That’s one.” you say.
Zoro parries a wild slash without even looking, his eyes still on you “You’re behind. I’m at five.”
You snort and kick off the ground, darting past him to slice a spear’s shaft clean in half, your blade stopping just shy of the wielder’s neck. The man drops to his knees, trembling.
“Tied now.” you say, stepping over him.
From the stands, the Straw Hats cheer like they’re watching a game. Luffy is on his feet, waving wildly “YEAH! GET ‘EM!”
Usopp is already taking bets with random strangers. Nami calculates potential winnings in her head.
Within minutes, the arena is littered with groaning, unconscious contestants. Those still standing keep glancing between you and Zoro, and then at the growing pile of bodies, before making the smart choice to run straight out of the ring.
The crowd erupts in disbelief.
You spin your sword once in your grip, planting the tip lightly into the sand “Well… that was boring.”
Zoro rests one katana on his shoulder, looking around at the empty ring “Guess it’s just us now.”
Your smile sharpens “Finally.”
The announcer stammers something about “unexpected efficiency” and “two finalists”, but you’re already stepping toward each other, the heat of the fight finally sparking in your veins.
The arena has gone quiet.
Every other contestant is down or has fled. Only you and Zoro remain, standing a few paces apart in the center of the ring. The sand is scuffed with footprints and sword marks, the air heavy with the scent of dust and steel.
From the stands, the Straw Hats are suddenly less loud.
“...Should we be worried?” Usopp mutters, clutching his knees.
“Yes.” Nami says flatly.
Brook lets out a low whistle “I have the feeling this is going to be… intense.”
You adjust your stance, your sword gleaming in the sunlight. Zoro’s gaze never leaves yours. The crowd is already holding its breath.
You tilt your head slightly, smirking “Want a good-luck kiss before the fight?”
Zoro’s mouth twitches upward into that sharp, cocky grin you know too well “I prefer a good-work kiss after the fight.”
Your grin widens “Fine. Earn it.”
The announcer barely gets the word start out before you move.
Steel clashes in a burst of sparks. The first exchange is so fast that the crowd gasps, heads whipping side to side to follow the blur of movement. Zoro meets your strike head-on, the force rattling up your arms, but you push harder, forcing him back a step.
He laughs “Not bad.”
You pivot, your blade arcing in a tight slash. He dodges just enough for the tip to graze his sleeve, then spins and counters with a low sweep that you parry at the last moment. The sound of metal on metal rings out like thunder.
From the stands, Chopper’s ears are flat against his head “They’re so scary…”
Sanji exhales smoke “Scary? That’s an understatement.”
The fight doesn’t slow. Every swing, block, and dodge is sharper, faster. Neither of you holds back, because you both know the other can take it. Sparks light the air again as your blades lock, your faces just inches apart.
You smirk through the strain “Getting tired yet?”
Zoro’s eyes flash “Not even close.”
Then you both push off, break apart, and go at it again, a perfect storm of speed and precision that has the crowd on its feet, roaring, even as half of them look like they might faint.
The final clash rings out like a gunshot. Your blade slides just past Zoro’s guard, but his second katana is already there, knocking your strike aside and twisting you off balance. Before you can recover, the flat of his blade presses against your neck.
“Gotcha.” he says, breathing hard, sweat beading along his temple.
You click your tongue, but you’re smiling “Fine. You win. I knew it was impossible for me.”
The crowd roars, the announcer declaring him the champion.
You sheath your sword and step forward, still catching your breath “Guess you get that ‘good-work’ kiss now.”
Zoro instantly tenses “Oi, oi, I was joking about it… We’re in the middle of the arena—”
You don’t let him finish. You grab his collar and plant a quick but firm kiss on his lips. He stiffens at first, then grumbles under his breath, trying to look anywhere but at the cheering crowd.
Before you can tease him, slow, sarcastic clapping echoes from the edge of the ring.
“Well, well… impressive show.” a voice drawls.
You both turn. A group of tall, heavily armed Marines in pristine white coats steps forward, their boots crunching against the sand. The one in front is broad-shouldered, with a scar running down his jaw and smirks like he’s already decided how this will end.
“Two Strawhats in the open, putting your little skills on display? Saves us the trouble of hunting you down.” His eyes flick between you and Zoro “Surrender now, or we’ll make you.”
Your grip on your sword tightens “And you are?”
The smirk widens “Vice Admiral Harker. And these are my men.” He gestures to the squad fanning out behind him “Your bounty posters don’t do you justice.”
By now, the commotion has reached the stands.
“What the hell’s going on?” Sanji’s voice cuts through the din.
“Marines…” Nami says sharply, already moving.
Luffy’s grin turns feral “Ohhh… so it’s a fight you want?”
Within seconds, the Strawhats are in the arena, surrounding you and Zoro. The Marines don’t wait.
The clash is immediate and brutal. Blades against sabers, gunfire ringing out, the crowd scattering in panic. You fight back-to-back with Zoro, cutting through the first wave easily.
Then you hear the hiss of steel, the wrong angle of movement and Zoro’s suddenly in front of you, blocking a blow meant for your side. It’s strong enough to push him back, hard.
Your chest tightens.
The pressure builds before you even realize what’s happening. Your pulse is in your ears, in your hands, in the hilt of your sword.
“Hey, stop!”
It bursts out of you.
A violent, raw wave of Conqueror’s Haki tears through the arena. The air itself ripples. Marines drop instantly, eyes rolling white. The ground cracks under your feet. Even some civilians far from the ring collapse where they stand.
It doesn’t stop.
The pulses keep coming, heavy and wild. Each one drags more strength from you, your vision blurring, your knees threatening to buckle. You can hear someone yelling your name, it’s Zoro… or maybe Luffy… but it’s muffled, like you’re underwater.
The last thing you see before darkness creeps in is Zoro’s face, angry, worried, and still standing guard over you even as the dust settles.
Later on, the first thing you notice is the sound of waves. Gentle. Familiar. Safe.
Then, voices.
“…They’re gonna be fine.” Chopper is saying, somewhere near your head.
“Yeah, but that was still scary…” Nami adds “They didn’t even look like they meant to use it.”
You blink against the light, your body heavy. The infirmary ceiling comes into focus, and you realize you’re on the Sunny.
Most of the crew is here. Nami’s leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. Chopper is perched on a stool beside you, holding a clipboard. Usopp and Sanji are arguing quietly in the corner. Even Luffy is there, hanging over the back of a chair.
And Zoro is sitting right beside you, arms resting on his knees, head tilted slightly like he’d been dozing. The moment your eyes open, his one visible eye snaps to yours.
“Finally awake, huh?” His voice is low, but there’s a hint of relief he doesn’t bother to hide.
You try to sit up, but he puts a hand on your shoulder “Don’t. You drained yourself completely. Chopper says you need a lot of rest.”
Chopper nods, flipping a page on his clipboard “That Conqueror’s Haki burst took a lot out of you. It was… honestly one of the most violent I’ve ever seen. You have to be careful—”
“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur “I just… saw him about to hit you, and…”
Zoro exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying not to say something sharp “You think I can’t handle myself?”
Your lips twitch into a small smile “That’s why I said I didn’t even mean to use it, idiot.”
He shakes his head, but you can tell he’s not actually annoyed. His hand is still on your shoulder, warm and steady.
Luffy leans forward suddenly “It was awesome, though!”
Nami smacks him on the arm “Not helping.”
Zoro looks at you again “When you’re better, we’re going to work on controlling it. Can’t have you burning yourself out like that in the middle of a fight again.”
You raise an eyebrow “You’re volunteering to train me?”
“Someone has to make sure you don’t collapse every time you use it.” he mutters.
The corner of your mouth lifts “Then I guess I’ll have to keep up with the great Roronoa Zoro.”
He huffs, leaning back in his chair, but not before giving your shoulder one last squeeze.
“Just get better first,” he says “Then we’ll see if you can keep up.”
You catch yourself staring at him a little too long. His steady gaze, the faint smirk on his lips… you almost lean forward.
Almost.
Instead, you force yourself to look away, coughing lightly “Maybe Luffy should train me if I don’t want to get distracted…”
Zoro’s eye narrows instantly “Not happening.”
Luffy blinks, tilting his head “Huh? I didn’t even say—”
“You weren’t gonna say yes.” Zoro cuts in, his tone flat but decisive.
You can’t help but laugh “You’re ridiculous.”
Then you crook your finger at him “Come here. I need to tell you something… private.”
He hesitates, frowning “Why?”
“Just come here, idiot."
With a quiet sigh, he leans forward until his face is close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His expression is suspicious, but he’s listening.
You lower your voice to a whisper “Will you give me a good-work kiss every time I manage to train with you?”
His brows twitch upward. For a moment you think he might actually say something smart back, but instead he pulls away, shaking his head. Still… there’s a small smile on his face as he sits back down.
Chopper mumbles “What did you just tell Zoro?”
Your ears go red immediately “I… I asked if the tournament’s prize, the legendary sword, was actually real.”
You close your eyes to avoid looking at anyone.
Chopper tilts his head “So… what’s the answer?”
“Yes.” Zoro says simply.
“For real?” Usopp’s jaw drops.
“Where is it now?” Sanji asks, suspicious.
Zoro snorts “No, they obviously didn’t have any legendary sword.”
Luffy tilts his head “Then why’d you just say yes?”
Another snort from Zoro “That was the answer to her real question.”
Your whole body goes hot. Your eyes snap open, staring at him in shock, but he’s already looking away like it’s nothing.
Before anyone can make another comment, you throw your hands up “Alright! Everyone out! I need rest, got it? Not because I’m about to strangle someone, nope, definitely not—”
Sanji smirks knowingly. Usopp is trying not to laugh. Nami just raises an eyebrow as they shuffle out, one by one, leaving you fuming and Zoro smug in his chair.
You glare at him “You too. Out.”
He doesn’t move right away, just waits until he’s sure the door has shut behind the last crewmate. Then he stands, steps closer, and leans over you with that infuriating calm.
“Okay, okay. I’m going,” he says quietly “Calm down now.”
But instead of turning toward the door, he leans even closer, close enough that his shadow falls over you. His lips brush yours in a quick, deliberate kiss that leaves your chest warm and your brain fuzzy.
He straightens, already walking away, tossing a smirk over his shoulder.
“Good work.”
And then he’s gone, leaving you staring at the ceiling with a heartbeat you can’t slow down no matter how hard you try.
Updated: August 18th, 2025
🔞 = mature
Other masterlists: mother masterlist, masterlist archive
NEW ADDITIONS:
Ghosts of Us by @inseobts (added: Aug 18th, 2025)
↳ "You have the ability to see ghosts and see Corazon’s lingering spirit around Law. As truths are revealed and tensions rise, Corazon’s meddling leads to unexpected confessions."
Summary: You make the mistake of letting Johnny borrow your phone. You really should have closed your tabs.
Word count: 3k
Tags and warnings: Established relationship, smut with very little plot (oral sex), Johnny’s a menace (affectionate), modern!Johnny if the film’s set before now (I know it’s 60s-inspired, at least), reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!
(It’s been a very long time since I’ve written for Marvel, and I know the film isn’t out yet and I’m working with very little with regards to this version of Johnny, but my partner and friends have given me some amazing ideas and I couldn’t wait to give writing him a go! Please be kind - my fic’s just pixels on a screen, after all.)
Fic Masterlist || Taglist
It’s not often you get time together like this. To be domestic, as Johnny calls it. You used to cling to it every chance you got, scared that this time would be the last. It’s hard not to worry when your boyfriend’s a literal superhero.
It had taken you a while to admit it to him, and now he makes sure he sets aside time wherever he can, for the two of you to just exist in each other’s company.
It’s nice.
Of course, it’d be a lot nicer if Johnny would shut up for five minutes.
You’re curled up on the couch together, with Johnny taking up most of the room as usual, and you tucked comfortably between his legs with your head resting against his chest. He’s watching a movie while you read a book, his arms draped loosely around your waist.
So far. he’s spent more time arguing with the TV than he has actually watching it.
“That song was ‘87,” you hear him mutter to himself. “This movie was what, ‘83?”
You roll your eyes. It’s not the first time Johnny’s had an argument like this with himself, and you know it won’t be the last.
You feel him move suddenly behind you, and you tighten your grip on your book before it ends up on the floor.
“Do you mind?” you ask, mildly annoyed. “What are you doing?”
He stops wriggling around.
“Right. Phone’s on the charge,” he says.” Can I borrow yours? This is gonna drive me crazy.”
You dig your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it and passing it to him without thinking, hoping it’ll keep him quiet long enough so you can actually focus on your book. It’s getting to a really good part, and you’re invested now.
He presses a quick kiss to your cheek as a thank you, settling himself back against the couch cushions again.
Finally. Some peace and quiet.
You’re about to turn the page, when you hear it. A low laugh from behind you.
“Well?” you ask absentmindedly. “Were you right?”
He laughs again, and you feel it rumble in his chest against your back.
“Huh? Oh, no, I, uh, I got distracted for a sec,” he says, and you don’t like how he says that.
It’s too casual, almost teasing - the tone he uses when he knows something you don’t.
You’re about to ask why, when he reaches over your shoulder, holding the phone out in front of you.
Your eyes widen.
You’d forgotten to close your last tab.
You immediately scramble to grab the phone from his hand, but he’s too fast, pulling his arm back out of your reach.
“Johnny! Give me back my phone!” you insist.
Your face feels like it’s on fire right now, and you try to turn around to face him. He moves his legs so they're now on top of yours, trapping you in place. The best you can do now is blindly reach behind you and hope for the best.
“It was a joke, okay? A friend sent it to me, thinking it’d be funny-“ you try to explain, still struggling.
Johnny laughs again, grabbing one of your wrists before you end up accidentally breaking his nose in your panic.
You collapse against him in momentary defeat, very aware of how breathless you now are.
“A friend sent you this, huh?” he asks, his tone suspiciously light. “I have to say, they’ve got good taste. If that’s true. But uh, I don’t think it is.
You can feel your heart hammering wildly against your ribcage.
“Nah, see, there’s another tab open right next to it,” he continues.
Can the floor just open up and swallow you already?
“And there’s my name, and- Wow, that’s a lot of results,” he says with a whistle. “Oh, there’s a filter system, that’s clever. And you can choose what content you want. I see. Very organised.”
You hear him mock-gasp.
“Baby,” he practically purrs in your ear. “I had no idea you felt that way about me.”
Your mouth’s gone dry. You can’t remember what damn tags you’d picked. You’d been reading it last night before bed.
It had started out of curiosity, really it had. It's not exactly lost on you how popular Johnny is - you’ve seen some of the fan mail he receives on a daily basis. And you're more than aware of the comments about him online. So, one thing led to another, and here you were, looking at Johnny Storm fanfiction. You had fully intended to just read one or two, see how bad they were, then send them to Johnny as a joke. Not that his ego really needs any more stroking, but you knew he’d get a kick out of it.
But here’s the problem - they were good. Too good, actually. And before you knew it, an hour had passed, and you were still reading. You were hooked. There was no way you could tell him now.
Not without admitting how they made you feel. How they were putting ideas into your head.
“Johnny,” you start slowly, wincing at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Just give me back my phone.”
“Why should I?” he asks. “I’m thoroughly enjoying myself right now.”
You let out a frustrated huff, gently knocking your head back against his chest.
“Oh, right, where are my manners?” he says, as he dramatically clears his throat. "Johnny looked at you from across the room, blue eyes alight - ha, very clever - with an emotion you couldn’t quite place-"
With an embarrassed yelp, you make another attempt to wrestle your phone back from him.
“Honey, come on, it was a joke,” you tell him. “It’s not that big a deal-“
You’re floundering. It’s a weak lie, and he knows it.
“You think I’m stupid, doll?” he asks, his voice low.
Oh, he knows, alright.
You feel your stomach flip and you give up, letting yourself drop into his hold.
“If there’s something you want…” he starts, one hand gently tracing patterns against your hip.
You suck in a breath.
“…you just gotta ask,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.
That hand starts wandering lower, and you’re in trouble.
“But if you’d rather get off on this…” he says lightly, “…Well then, I’ll just leave you to it.”
He drops the phone in your lap, nudging you forward to climb out from behind you. You immediately clutch at his forearms without even thinking.
Oh, you’re in so much trouble.
“Johnny, wait,” you say softly. “It’s just-“
“Yeah?” he prompts.
He sits back down.
“I’m listening.”
You sigh, your eyes squeezed shut.
“Can we?” you whisper, mortified.
Johnny leans closer to you.
“Sorry, doll, what was that?” he asks, his tone patronising.
He’s the most infuriating man you’ve ever met. But you can’t help but love him anyway.
"Can we...Can we try one of the...things I read?" you ask, struggling through every single word.
Johnny reaches for your phone again, and you don't bother to try and stop him. The damage has been done. Or so you think, at least.
"Sure, baby, we can do whatever you'd like," he replies sweetly.
Too sweetly.
"In fact, why don't we go through your browser history and see which one you liked best, huh?" he suggests, and when you turn to look at him, he's grinning at you like a goddamn shark.
You manage to wrench the phone from his grasp, but this time, he doesn't put up much of a fight.
"We don't have to do that," you reply, a little too quickly, if Johnny's widening smile is any indication. "We can just..."
You sigh heavily.
Fuck it. No going back now.
You point your phone in his direction, making sure he can at least read the tags and summary. You don't need him trying to give you the audiobook version again.
"This one," you mutter, looking everywhere but at him.
Johnny takes a minute, before turning his attention back to you.
"Where have you been hiding this side of yourself, huh?" he asks.
He's sliding off the couch and onto the floor before you even have a chance to think of an answer. Your breath catches in your throat at just the sight of him as he is right now, on his knees in front of you.
You rarely get to see him like this. It's not that he doesn't take care of your needs, of course he does. It's just that he's usually a whirlwind of "I gotta have you, and I gotta have you now", especially after one of his ever-frequent life-or-death situations. It's not often that the two of you are able to take it slow like this.
He hooks his hands around your knees, dragging you towards him until you're slumped against the cushions. You gasp at the sudden movement, and he laughs, giving you a little squeeze as he does.
"No more thinking, okay?" he asks.
He knows you too well at this point. You sometimes wonder if he also has the ability to read minds and he just conveniently forgot to tell you about it. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised.
Still, as much as you loathe to admit it, he's right. A little break from thinking would be good for you, and you decide to tell him as much - in a way he'll understand.
"Why don't you make me?" you ask in turn, raising an eyebrow as you tilt your head to one side.
His eyes widen at that, as if wondering where this confidence is coming from. You're wondering that yourself.
Not one to back down from a challenge, Johnny moves closer, hands gently pushing your knees apart to allow him better access. You just had to wear a skirt today of all days, you think to yourself.
You bring a hand up to your face, immediately self-conscious at just the thought of him seeing you like this before he's even done anything. He's quick off the mark, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away.
"Nuh-uh," he says gently. "No hiding, okay? Wanna see you."
You manage a little nod, and that seems to be enough to satisfy him. He lets go of you, refocusing his attention. His hands slide up along your thighs, calloused fingers scratching lightly at your skin.
He's hardly touched you, and yet already you can feel that fluttering feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. A little shiver runs through you, and Johnny catches your eye with a lop-sided smile.
"I haven't even started with you yet," he teases, tracing delicate little lines along your innermost thighs.
It's a sensitive stretch of skin, and you involuntarily tell him as much, squirming under his hands.
He laughs then, soft and low, in the way that always makes a rush of warmth run through you.
"Y'know, if it's too much, I can just..." he starts, trailing off as he slowly drags his hands away.
Without even thinking, you instinctively reach for him, grabbing his hands and pulling them back.
"Wow, didn't realise you were that desperate for me," he says under his breath, trying to bite back another laugh.
You could kick him. You really could.
But then his hands are back on you, and all thoughts of violence are quickly pushed to the side - for now, at least.
His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, giving them a quick little tug that leaves you jolting against him.
"As pretty as these are, they're kinda in my way," he says, his fingers pulling ever so slightly. "Up."
You lift your hips up a little, giving him enough room to pull them down over your legs, before he tosses them carelessly on the floor behind him.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
You don't think you can take much more of his teasing at this rate, and he's barely even touched you.
Thankfully, you both seem to be on the same page on that one, because he certainly doesn't waste any time in getting to work. He slides his hands under your thighs, before he leans in and drags his tongue in one slow, long motion against you.
The shaky moan that erupts from you is downright obscene, and you've never been more grateful for the fact that you don't have neighbours.
He does it again, his breath hot against you, blunt nails scratching at your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to squeeze your legs around him to keep him there. Not that he'll be moving anytime soon, from the looks of it. He seems like he's thoroughly enjoying turning you into a quivering mess.
The problem with Johnny is that he might be confident, but it's not for nothing. You hate to admit it, but he's fucking good at this.
You drag your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. He groans against you, and you let your head fall back against the cushions with a shaky sigh. He's very quickly found his rhythm, and it's only now you realise that your legs are trembling.
You can feel yourself beginning to unravel, and if he keeps this up, it won't be long until you're falling apart at his touch.
He pulls back suddenly, and automatically, you're trying to drag him back. You were very happy with where he was, thank you very much. He moves out of your reach, standing up.
"Wha- Where are you going?" you ask.
You'll deny the whine in your voice until your dying day.
"Don't get me wrong, this is good...but I think it could be better," he replies cryptically.
Before you can question him, he's hauling you to your feet. You yelp, trying to tug your skirt down to cover yourself. Johnny all but throws himself down on the couch in your place, beckoning you with a wave of his hand.
"C'mere, I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs with a sly smile.
You feel your thighs clench at that. You move to sit yourself in his lap, when he shakes his head.
"You're a little too far down, doll," he says.
"What are you- Oh," you say in a rush of air, as it dawns on you.
It's not like you haven't thought about doing this before, it's just it seems so intimate that you've always felt too nervous to even suggest it. And now you don't have to.
"You're always saying you'd love to shut me up, so here's your chance," he says lowly.
How can he say things like that and still look so smug?
"You know, you're right," you reply, with a sudden little surge of confidence. "It would be nice to get five minutes of peace and quiet."
"That's the spirit," he says, smiling up at you as he lightly slaps your thighs.
Slowly, you lower yourself down, until you can feel his breath against you. Your legs are already trembling badly, but Johnny's hands are quick to hold you steady, warm and strong against the backs of your thighs. He pulls you down closer, and you brace yourself. You feel yourself lurch forward as his tongue presses against you, and you hear him laugh softly.
Bastard.
You lower yourself down a little further, and that finally shuts him up. You fist one hand in his hair, the other holding onto the back of the couch for dear life. It's not long before he's picking up where he so rudely left you stranded before, and you're not sure how much more of this you can take. He feels so good against you, and he knows exactly how to take you apart, piece by piece. It's not fair.
You try to tell him as much, to warn him, but all that does is encourage him to redouble his efforts. His tongue is going to be the death of you.
"Johnny-" is all you manage to grit out, before he's pushing you right over the edge, and it takes every last bit of strength you have to not let yourself drop down on him entirely.
You desperately cling to the couch cushions as he coaxes every last bit from you, your hips grinding against his tongue as you ride out your orgasm.
You're exhausted by the time he's done. If there's one thing you know about Johnny, it's that he's thorough. He doesn't like to half-ass anything.
You slap lightly at his hands to make him stop. You know he'll have you there all night otherwise, and it's starting to edge into too much. He lets go of you, and you awkwardly shuffle down to the other end of the couch, suddenly very self-conscious.
Johnny props himself up on his elbows, his face so smug as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Well? What d'you think?" he asks. "Was I better than your little story?"
In spite of the state he's left you in, you can't help but roll your eyes fondly.
"I don't wanna give you the satisfaction of admitting it, but...yeah, you were," you reply, pretending as though you're uninterested.
Johnny smiles widely at that, so self-assured.
And well-earned, you think to yourself.
"And uh, my little bit of improv?" he asks. "How was that?"
You lightly kick at his leg.
"Yes, you were amazing, best I've ever had," you reply in a deadpan tone, but you're smiling. "Are you happy now?"
"Oh, very much so," he replies, his gaze wandering.
Before you even register what he's doing, your phone somehow ends up in his hands again.
"Come on, aren't you done with this already?" you ask incredulously.
Johnny shakes his head.
"Not quite," he replies, clearly engrossed in scrolling. "Maybe I wanna find one where you return the favour."
Your eyes widen. He's an absolute menace.
You manage to pull yourself upright, taking your phone and sliding it out of the way.
"I think I can figure out how to return the favour without needing to be prompted, thank you," you tell him, leaning in close to him to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
And by the time you're finished with him, he's very much in agreement with you.
I saw that you are accepting fic requests. Do you write about some DreamWork's characters too? I wanted to request a Pitch Black from the rise of the guardians.
And I wanted to say that I love your work, your fanfiction are very good and I love the way you manage to write the characters so well!!!😭❤️❤️❤️
“My Dear Cupid.”
(Pitch Black X Fem!Reader)
Synopsis: Pitch, better known as the boogeyman, ended up developing a new feeling that he had never felt in all his years, feeling for the new guardian who was your total opposite, for you the guardian of love, the cupid.
A/N: By great coincidence I was watching this film recently. Of course I'm going to write about Dreamworks characters too!! You can ask me, but it will take me a while to make some fanfiction because there are already a lot of requests in front. The next one will be Clopin Trouillefou and Hades from Hercules.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
He hadn't imagined that this could happen, no one had, least of all her, who he thought had deliberately made the enchantment so powerful that it affected the king of nightmares.
That flame and that heat disturbed him. Pitch had never felt that burning in all his millennia of life, but everything changed after his first encounter with the guardian of love, Cupid.
After a meeting of the guardians at the North Pole on the subject of the new guardian, The Man in the Moon determined that the new guardian should destroy Pitch and protect the children, along with the duty of bringing joy to them.
Knowing this information for himself, Pitch decided to face the chosen one personally, after all, a simple cupid couldn't do anything against him; or so he thought.
The blizzard and the intense cold dominated the place, but that didn't bother the bogeyman at all, because everyone knows that cold and fear combine perfectly with each other; leaving only agony and suffering. When he saw a silhouette in the middle of all that snow, he deduced that it might be you and sneaked up from behind to destroy you with just one blow from his scythe, and you wouldn't even know who hit you.
That's when he saw your face. The moment you sensed that you were being pursued, you quickly turned around and aimed your bow and arrow, surprising him and leaving him static in that position holding his scythe.
The two of you stood in silence, staring deeply into each other's eyes. Pitch seemed awestruck by your appearance, not imagining that you looked so angelic and delicate. Seeing you pointing your arrow and looking deeply at him, while the snow from the blizzard stuck to your hair, was a sight worthy of a painting.
It was hard to say what kind of look he was looking at and where the flame that was coming from him was coming from. Pitch wasn't as expressive, but his gaze showed that he had never been as perplexed as he was at that moment; it was one of admiration, and therefore full of disturbance and turmoil.
And you looked at him confused, but also wary. "Why doesn't he just attack me?" You asked yourself, and you couldn't attack him either, you were overcome with trembling and the cause of this was the intense cold. Before you could shoot your arrow, he quickly disappeared, using your shadow, to his advantage, which was close to him. That was so fast that a small gasp of fright escaped his lips. You lost sight of him, but looked around, still holding your arrow and bow tightly in case he appeared by surprise, but no, he was really gone.
That was your little encounter. After that day, his thoughts were dominated by you, appearing in such strong colors that this unknown feeling and the desire to tear you apart grew more and more. Your wings were so delicate, your neck so fragile and graceful that he wanted to squeeze and twist it using just one of his hands.
He removed all the hatred and evil from his heart and recognized that this hatred and evil was only love, which had become terrible things in the heart of the bogeyman, a poisonous, hateful and vicious love that seemed more like an obsession. In all these years it never occurred to him that the guardian of the nightmare, the terror of every child, could fall in love with such a fragile, angelic creature, the complete opposite of him, and therefore one of his enemies, but unfortunately it did.
That's when a thought came to him: you were a cupid, the guardian of love, and you made people fall in love with each other. Could that be? It had to be, there was a great possibility that you had put a spell on him. The fixed idea kept coming back and torturing him, he had to get rid of this doubt in his mind by going to you and putting an end to this agony once and for all.
*****
You were flying to your temple after several hours of work. Of course bringing couples together was your specialty, but you also worked on preserving the sympathy, innocence and gentleness of children, because love was related to all that too, and your work only worked with the power contained in the substances you put in your arrows.
On the way there, you sensed that something was wrong, and unfortunately your intuition was right. Your temple was being invaded by Pitch's "horses", but they quickly left as a figure, and when you looked a little further, you noticed that they were stealing your arrows and the vials containing the substances. This made you extremely worried because your arrows and those vials were your most important things, they were what made you the cupid and guardian.
When the last creature left your temple as fast as a shadow, you followed it trying to catch up with it as it flew, it was hard to keep up as the nightmare was fast, but you didn't give up for anything, you weren't so focused on catching up with the nightmare that you didn't even remember to call the other guardians to help you.
With that chase, the nightmare took you into a forest and disappeared among the trees, you landed and looked around. The place was totally dark and gray with a certain evil malice, as if there was no life, only melancholy, which made you immediately become defensive and walk among those trees and hold your bow and arrow.
You looked around for that smoky black creature as you entered the forest, until your ears caught the sound of a neigh and you knew it wasn't just any horse. The cupid ran quickly to where the sound was coming from and stopped at the sight of a broken, old bed in a deep hole, getting closer cautiously, a bad energy taking you over more and more and you were slightly startled to hear the neighing again, but this time inside that hole. You had no choice, had to get back what had been stolen from you. So you entered that deep, dark hole, using your wings to land gently without hurting yourself.
As you stepped into the room, you looked around. It was a poorly lit cave, the lights were just a few rays of sunlight that invaded the deep cavern, who knows how many meters you were underground, the cold dominated the place, but it was bearable. You managed to discover Pitch's hideout, but you also wondered whether you would make it out alive or sane. You gathered your courage and decided to explore the place while your guard was still up, but even so, your fear was palpable, and he loved it, little did you know that he savored your fear.
You stood out in that dark, gray place, with your angelic appearance, lively and so delicate, it was obvious that you shouldn't be there, that environment didn't suit you. The negative energy in that place was so strong that it gave you the creeps, and you also felt the sensation of being watched. You just wanted to take what was yours and leave.
As you walked around the place, you could see the large globe with the little lights on, and you came closer to look at it. You knew that each light was a child who believed in you, but how could he have that in his cave? Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice:
“Looking for something?”
When you looked back, you saw only his shadow on the wall and wasted no time in shooting your arrow, but the shadow quickly disappeared, slipping into one of the corridors of that cave and you followed him, but lost sight of him when you reached that dimly lit corridor:
“Put the arrow down, dear. Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you.” His voice echoed around, in that calm tone of his that could put a child to sleep.
“Afraid? I'm not afraid of you.” You said, still holding your bow and arrow, looking around and turning quickly to look for any sign of him.
“Don't lie cupid, my specialty is understanding people's fears...” Then he stepped out of the shadows, standing in front of you with that smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “...just as you can understand love, but don't seem to understand when it comes from a certain person...”
The bogeyman walked quietly around you, and you couldn't take your eyes off him as aimed the arrow. Both of your hearts were beating fast at the presence of the other, but for different reasons, yours being of fear, but his being of love and eagerness to put his hands on you, if only for the slightest touch.
“Give me back what you stole from me.” You said commandingly. “You don't need my things.”
“Don't you see that I did this just to bring you to me?” He asked seriously and stopped walking.
“And what do you want from me?”
As you asked this, a small smile formed on his lips and he disappeared back into the darkness behind him. You quickly followed him and as you passed through the darkness you felt like you had been teleported to another corner of the cave. He was toying with you, you were desperate, feeling lost and wondering how you got there. You dropped your guard and felt the bow being quickly taken from your hands, one of his horses had picked it up and carried it away, now leaving you unarmed:
“I just need some answers on a specific matter that's been bothering me for days.” You heard his voice echoing again and his shadow walked around the corners of the wall as he explained. “I've never felt a feeling like this in all these years, I feel weak and anxious when it comes to you, but at the same time it's such a pleasant warmth and delicious anxiety when you're around.... Oh! My cupid... What have you done?”
He asked with a sigh. You were confused and stunned by this information, you knew exactly what he was describing and what that feeling was. He was in love with you? But how?...
“My spell doesn't work on myself, I can't make someone fall in love with me. I didn't even know you could fall in love...”
You said as you took slow steps backwards, suddenly you felt a presence at your back and a shiver ran through your body as you felt two icy hands on your shoulders and a whisper close to your ear:
“We seem to have discovered something together. So why would I, the bogeyman, be in love with you, such a delicate cupid who is the complete opposite of me?”
The sensation of the king of nightmares' icy touch on your warm skin brought a small thermal shock to both of them, his presence so close exuded a very strong negative energy, but at the same time transformed it into a pleasurable adrenaline and fear. His question made you quiet and also thoughtful:
“Did that leave you speechless, love?” he asked, speaking close to your ear while his hands rubbed your shoulders and squeezed them lightly, making him inhale deeply as he felt satisfied and relaxed at finally being able to feel you and satisfy his curiosity about what it was like to touch your soft skin.
“I don't know what to say... I can only say that we don't decide who we fall in love with, it's impossible to control the desires of the heart. And I can't undo that since it wasn't my spell, it was natural.”
“I confess I wanted you to undo that...” He explained as one of his hands left your shoulder and went to your waist, bringing you closer to him until your back and wings brushed against his chest. “It made me so weak, but I changed my mind when I realized how good this feeling was, but also how torturous... It's an almost addictive sensation, and so new.”
As he spoke close to your neck with the sensation of his lips almost touching your sensitive skin, your attention went to his hand, which was on your shoulder and slowly descending, tracing its way down your skin, to your elbow and arriving at your small and delicate hand. His long, slender fingers intertwined with yours, and the energy of that touch gave you a different sensation, of course there was no good energy coming from Pitch, but somehow you felt a warm, protective feeling, therefore of great danger and you felt the same anxiety.
Your gaze shifted from your entwined hands to his face, your heart softening as you saw the way he looked at you, revealing the deep burning desire in his eyes. For the first time you discovered that there was love in the eyes of the king of nightmares. But you were uncertain, he was your enemy, you couldn't trust the man who was as treacherous as a snake, and besides, what would your friends think of that? You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a small laugh from him:
“I don't understand love, but there's something that leads me to believe that we were meant for each other. It's evident from the mere contact of our hands.” He spoke in a calm, enveloping voice as he lightly squeezed your waist and caressed your hand. That's when you pulled away and faced him, and he felt an emptiness at that.
“I can't.” You said thoughtfully and with a hint of sadness, this couldn't happen, you were a guardian and you were supposed to protect the children from the bogeyman. Unfortunately he was right, however wrong it was, it seemed certain that you were soul mates. That smile wouldn't leave his face.
“You're afraid of giving yourself to me, afraid of finding out what the other guardians will think, afraid of disappointing them.” The taller man approached you and grabbed your chin, lifting your face, forcing you to face him once more. “Am I right, my cupid?”
“But my goal is to destroy you.”
Holding your chin firmly, he moved even closer, and you stared into the deep golden eyes that were fixed on your lips. That man's ability to bewitch you and influence you to give in was remarkable, and it was practically impossible to resist after so many looks, touches and closeness... He was bewitching you like a snake that grabs its prey so cautiously to strike next:
“You already destroy me completely just by your presence... Don't you see that I'm totally at your mercy, darling? You have me in the palm of your hand.”
Cupid, which was you, felt almost as if you were being seduced into opening Pandora's box, about to unlock the doors to dangerous territory with no turning back. It was slowly turning into a game of pride and hesitation. Their faces were so close that you could feel them both breathing, a chill went through his stomach and he felt his cheeks start to heat up. Before you could say anything, you were surprised by his kiss on your red lips, breaking the distance and forcing you to give in to your hidden desires. Your eyes widened in surprise at the bogeyman's audacity, but you returned the kiss after closing your eyes.
While you were kissing with such fervor, Pitch slid his hand around your waist, drawing you close to him, joining your bodies, while his other hand went up to the back of your neck, gently pulling your hair. This made you moan involuntarily during the kiss, at which point he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. Pitch held you so close to his body that he seemed to have waited years for this moment, he was desperate to feel you, your body, your lips and hear your sweet moans. You had never experienced a kiss like this, it was so needy, possessive and deep, you felt as if you were the only creature that mattered to him and his most valuable possession, and indeed, you were.
He interrupted the kiss, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath, you realized you were wrong that it was over when he started kissing your neck, distributing light bites and sucking on the sensitive, soft skin of the cupid, marking it like an animal marking territory. Your wings fluttered softly as you felt his cool fingers caressing them and his knee sliding between your legs, teasing you. Knowing he wanted to push the limits, you pushed him away from your neck, and your hands rested on his chest as your eyes met:
“That can't happen again...” He laughed when you said this and gradually let go of your arms and pulled away, feeling the flaming trail of your palm on his chest.
“Deny it all you want, I know you'll come back again and we'll have lots of dates like this, love.” The taller man removed the small lock of hair from your face. “You know where my hideout is, just visit me.”
That man knew very well how to manipulate someone, especially a creature as sentimental and romantic as you. He magically took your little bow and arrow from his back and handed it to you, and as soon as you took it you looked at him doubtfully:
“Until another day, my cupid.”
As he said this he snapped his fingers and suddenly you no longer felt the ground around your feet and you fell into that darkness, desperately trying to find a position to fly to, but as soon as you did you were teleported back to your temple, specifically into your bedroom and fell onto your bed. You were breathing heavily from the adrenaline and the unexpected fright, so you sat on the bed thinking about what had happened and running your hand through your hair.
Your enemy had just declared his feelings to you, given himself to you completely, and then kissed you and you gave in to that temptation. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling empty for having stopped such bold caresses.
When you got out of bed, confused by your feelings, you wondered what your next meeting would be like, if it would be the same and if you should give in next time, or if there would be a next time. And as you looked in the mirror you also wondered how you were going to hide those marks on your neck from your guardian friends...
ASMR | Ace Attorney - Miles Edgeworth x Listener SFW Becoming Edgeworth's Assistant
[M4A] [First meeting] [Takes place mid-Turnabout Samurai so spoilers for the game up to that point] [Slightly implied listener has a crush on Edgeworth, but there's no explicitly romantic content in this audio]
I can't believe I didn't think of doing an Edgeworth audio sooner. And no I'm not trying to do an impression of him in the anime, I haven't seen the anime, this is the voice I gave him when I was playing the games on stream. I was wracking my brain trying to think of new characters to voice and if there's any new popular fandoms and couldn't think of anything other than Hades 2, and then I remembered Edgeworth exists and I've never voiced him for an audio and I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of voicing him sooner.
.
Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post).
2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month.
I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince .
[minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.]
[do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]
synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.
warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left
word count: 4.7k
“this guy is full of shit.”
you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?”
zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.”
“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?”
“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”
you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.”
the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps.
“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.”
you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”
“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest.
you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?”
zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”
“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.”
at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades.
“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”
zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”
“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.”
zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.
“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense.
you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”
before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison.
“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!”
you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes.
“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home.
he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.
“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it.
“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.”
“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”
“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.
“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”
zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”
you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side.
“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.
“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.
“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance.
you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised.
going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste.
“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.
usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”
zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”
“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off.
abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”
the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?”
the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”
“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”
“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”
before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly.
“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly.
“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.”
the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.”
“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.”
“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly.
your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”
“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are.
kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.”
klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”
“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?”
giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.”
luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?”
“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”
she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved.
“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?”
“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.”
his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.
the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.
“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”
he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”
his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different.
“hey, you comin’?”
you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken.
“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps.
zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.
“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”
“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall.
“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.
nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.”
“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich.
“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?”
you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.
nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.”
you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”
“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.
nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.
“way to keep me humble, luffy.”
“no problem!”
at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed.
“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.
he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.
“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?”
“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint.
his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy.
“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board.
as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.”
“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress.
“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”
you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.
the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form?
“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being.
he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”
you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”
zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”
by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best.
luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro.
“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.
“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute.
“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go.
dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”
“very on brand.”
“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”
arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard.
once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.
“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.
you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.
looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.”
kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.”
“funky bar? mirror ball island?”
“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.”
while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable.
“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”
you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.
kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.”
he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler.
you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets.
“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare.
“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.
“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?”
you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”
zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?”
his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.”
before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?”
luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.”
“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly.
“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.”
“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.”
“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”
you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included.
“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.
you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.
“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react.
“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.
“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.
all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.”
“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.
“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.
a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.
turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”
“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.
kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”
the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”
you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”
zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”
you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you.
“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.
he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.”
you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”
he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.
“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”
kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”
“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”
“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses.
the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect.
he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”
you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”
he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”
“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.”
“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”
you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”
“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”
you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”
you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”
the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is.
“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.
that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.
kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.
zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused.
sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.
“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.
he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”
you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”
“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”
his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”
the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?”
you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.
“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”
“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”
he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”
you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”
that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.”
though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.
“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.
zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”
“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.
“only for pretty things.”
“do you mean me or the dress?”
now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle.
a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.
“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”
he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure.
when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.”
“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.
you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”
synopsis: you love Miguel and have been trying your best to ignore the parts of him you didn't like. these parts of him being his obsession with work and desire to control others leading him to make morally questionable actions. the recent encounter with Miles Morales leads you to cross Miguel and an argument follows.
word count: 1809
genre: angst
warnings: sfw, cussing, spoilers for Across the Spider-verse
you met Miguel a couple of years ago. he sought you out after your blood miraculously saved your best friend, Peter Parker.
in your universe, Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and he became the one and only spiderman. you were also bitten by a radioactive spider. however, this spider simply made you sick and failed to give you any super powers.
you continued to believe you were powerless until the day Peter had been beaten to the brink of death in a fight alongside the avengers. he'd been in a coma for six months. Dr. Bruce Banner worked tirelessly for a solution to wake him up, trying all kinds of tests and experiments to save him. eventually, he began to believe that nothing could be done for your friend. that was until Dr. Banner discovered that you too were bitten by a radioactive spider and decided that a blood transfusion from your body to Peter's may elicit some sort of reaction in Peter. His theory proved to be correct. Peter woke up within minutes of your blood in his veins.
when Miguel received word that a colleague he had assumed was all but dead was in fact very alive and back swinging through the streets of new york, he had to meet the woman responsible for saving him. after running more tests with Dr. Banner and confirming that it was in fact your blood that saved Peter, he took you back to HQ. here you discovered that while you didn't have super strength or the ability to shoot webs from your wrists, you still possessed a super ability: healing. and were thus deemed a Spiderwoman. your dna was altered by the spider and after experimenting with other spider people and regular humans it appeared that your blood affected the spider people and no one else.
as you worked at HQ and integrated into spider society, you grew closer to Miguel. this in itself seemed a miracle as Miguel made it a point to distance himself from everyone. but somehow, you slipped through the cracks. work meetings turned into outside of work coffee, coffee turned into dates, and dates turned into marriage. the two of you were infatuated with each other. for Miguel, you gave a reason to keep going, a purpose that meant more than holding the spider-verse together. for you, Miguel made life make sense. he made it seem like everything you've ever been through was worth it because those events led you to him. you love his drive, his passion, his commitment and, his dedication to what he believed was the right thing. coincidentally, the things you loved about him were also the things you hated.
for years you watched Miguel make callous moves. sending people dazed and confused back to their universes', tearing families apart, standing by and watching people die all in the name of keeping the multiverse in order. you had heard his story, seen the evidence, personally witnessed black holes attempting to swallow a universe whole. that's why you always brushed his actions off. reasoning with yourself that everything he did was for the greater good. most of the time you felt sympathy for Miguel. the weight of thousands of universes rested on his shoulders. you couldn't begin to understand the pressure he felt constantly. there was no way for you to begin to comprehend the burden he felt, knowing that if he allowed one piece to be out of line everything could come toppling over.
but now that you've met Miles Morales, seen the live footage from Lyla of Miguel's harsh words to the child during their fight, you couldn't acquiesce to Miguel's methods anymore. there was no way you could stand by idle and let Miguel terrorize a child like this. so as Miguel comes bursting through to the lab in attempts to rip Miles out of the Go Home Machine, you prematurely override the system and let Miles leave.
"what did you just do?" Miguel asks with an look of astonishment, still breathing heavily from the chase.
the room full of spiders was dead quiet, and in a state of disbelief that you would betray Miguel so brazzenly and in front of everyone. part of you couldn't believe what you did either. as you look at Miguel you find yourself regretting your actions, too stunned to do anything but gawk at him and plead with your eyes. he looked so angry, so conflicted. you could see his two sides fighting with each other. one Miguel that was the guardian on the multiverse, the other Miguel that was the one that loved you. you should have known which one would win.
He sighed and looked away from your gaze, "take her to the brig."
he can't be serious.
it seems like everyone else around you doubts his sincerity as well because all the spiders are hesitant to move. casting glances at each other seeing who will dare to put you, one of the most respected spider people and one of the only people Miguel cares for, in a cell.
"Miguel! are you-" you begin to voice your opposition but are promptly cut off.
"I said, take her to the brig," Miguel speaks more firmly, red eyes locking with the spiders nearest you.
He is serious.
two pairs of hands grab your arms and direct you to the brig. you decide to save yourself from anymore public embarrassment by keeping your mouth shut. you know that if you were to open it now, all that would come out would be pitiful whimpers and words meant for Miguel to forget the whole thing.
as you went you cast him glances over your shoulder but his eyes weren't on you. completely in business mode, you hear him send Gwen back to her universe and tell Jess and Ben to go to Miles' universe and he'd meet them there "after i deal with her."
the callousness and disassociation in his voice made tears well up in your eyes. your brain immediately jumped to all the worse conclusions.
will he send me back home? will he leave me locked up and try me for treason?
no, worse.
will he leave me? will he not love me anymore?
these thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you reach the brig. the two spiders handling you reluctantly lock you in the small laser bound room and leave as quickly as they came. as part of any functioning society, you need a brig and a court of law. both of which Miguel had built in the sub levels of HQ. both of which were rarely used. the brig was different that the holding room for anomalies as this room was made for law breaking spider people. as it were you are the only person in any of the cells. this was to your benefit as you didn't want anyone seeing you in the state that you were in. on the verge of a panic attack, you let a few tears fall out and pulled your knees up to your chest on the floor. in an attempt to self sooth you tried to reason that he was just putting up a strong front because you had the brilliant idea to defy him in front of all of spider society. he wouldn't actually hate you. he wouldn't cast you aside now, not after all this time. he loves you.
dosen't he?
or maybe because everyone saw the one person who should have been committed to Miguel and all of his efforts undermine him and everything he's built, he'd be force to get rid of you. he couldn't possibly be seen with you again after this. it's not a matter of ego, God knows he doesn't care what others think of him. it's a matter of business. after all what you did was treasonous.
the pessimistic thoughts are getting the best of you. you're ready to beg Miguel for forgiveness.
but, why?
you believe you did the right thing and would do it again, if it weren't for the consequences.
suddenly, a doorway opens in the lasers and Miguel steps in. he leans against the nearest wall you and looks down at you. the turmoil is evident in the crease of his brow.
"why?" is all he asks.
"what you're doing isn't right. what you said to that child wasn't right. and i know, i know you think it needs to be done but there has to be a better way!" as you speak you still avoid his eyes, holding the tears at bay.
"it's not about what i think is right. it's about what is. you've seen the evidence. you've seen what i," he takes a breath to control his rising anger, "what i have been through. you've seen all of it and you're still resistant?"
"i know! i know! and i'm not trying to discredit anything you've been through. you know i would never ever doubt you. but that doesn't change the fact that this is wrong!"
miguel shakes his head in disbelief at you. most of his reserve has vanished, the volume of his words ever increasing. "then why go against me now? you've been helping me for years! you never said anything!"
"i have! you just never listen to me Miguel! i have tried to get you to see it another way but you're so damn stubborn! but you're not always right and maybe there is another way to do this! just give the kid a chance."
"no. there isn't another way and you know that."
"but how will you know if you don't try and work with him. maybe the kid knows something you don't-"
"enough," accepting that his one true love was a lost cause, he slipped back to stoicism. a quality you were used to seeing him portray however it had never been aimed at you, "this discussion is over as it is clear you are choosing to be foolish."
the decisiveness of his bitter words made tears spill from your eyes. his he walks over to your defeated form and crouches down to be eyelevel with you. he grabs your jaw and firmly lifts your chin.
"look at me." his words are airish and almost a whisper but are decidedly harsh.
you do as he says. meeting his eyes does nothing more than make you feel completely broken.
"i'm so disappointed. i thought we were one mi vida. but now you blatantly betray me-," he cuts himself off as anguish begins to seep through his words, "i don't have time for this. i'll deal with you when i get back."
for a moment his touch softens. but he abruptly rises and exits the cell, leaving you to crumble into a sobbing mess on the floor, inconsolable and heartbroken.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------notes: ok props to writers cause this was hard af and i got sick of myself half way through. i used to be able to write but i guess thats what happens when you dont use your gifts. anyways... like and subscribe? :/
Plot: You and Slender have had a big fight, and broke up. You’re both done. Things are just too hard for you both, to stay together. You’ve broken it up and made it up more times then either of you care to count and you just cant do it anymore. You want each other, you need each other, you love each other more then anything else- But you’re giving up. You think its right thing to do.
Now, watch Offender, who is definitely the least knowledgeable man on earth about love, talk to his brother and fix this.
Warnings: Angst (Though I tried to put some comedy in there!) with an insinuated happy ending. Also, obviously, Offender.
Tagging: @ladala-shihiro , @miss-understood , and @yesthetrashbin . I hope y'all like this! ^^
This is a work off my old blog, @mainstreambaddies , remastered ^^ I was reminded about it talking to @marinerainbow ^^
“So, then-” You clear your throat, holding onto the handle to your suitcase, standing out on the porch. Slender's still inside the house, but the door is open. “This is done, now?” This has been done so many times before that its hard to believe that this is really over this time. You almost can’t take it seriously, like you should. Like it is. Like you know that you'll wish you had when you remember it tomorrow morning. You peer up at Slender with a smirk, though, because you just cant. “Not gonna meet me at the edge of the forest again?” Like he’s done the last, what, 70 times?? Apart from those times that you stopped and realised you love him, and ran back for him, of course.
Offender sits on the couch, just inside the mansion, seemingly reading the dirty parts out of some of Slenders books out of immense boredom, when he hears what’s conspiring feet from him. Promptly, he decides this is much more interesting and stops reading. He doesn't put the book down, so as to look like he's reading and not eavesdropping, but he most certainly is.
You get the feeling there would be a stiff, taught, no teeth kind of smile on him if he had those kinds of features. He’s standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed-not like he’s annoyed, or expecting something; More like he’s in thought, holding himself where he is. Together, and most importantly- still. “... Mm, no, not this time.” His voice is dull. “We discussed this already Y/N. This is final.”
“I know.”
“But we have said that before though, haven't we?”
As always, he can read your mind without even actually reading your mind.
You take a deep breath, and let it go. One of the many things you’ll have to let go.
Because you have to.
Because this is the last time. No more. You couldn't do it again,... and you wouldn't want to. Its too hard.
Offenders interest, and doubts, are thoroughly perked. What have they been discussing?? What do these two think they know?? What’s happening?? He rolls over onto his stomach on the couch to look at them, before pushing himself up onto his forearms. “Wait, what're you two doing?”
Slender flat out ignores him, while you give him a funny little look before looking back at Slender again. It hurts to say these next few words. God, its beginning to sink in- this is over. “So... I’m going now.” You love him... but its over. You couldn't do it; There were just too many obstacles in your way and you couldn't hack it.
Why couldn't you just figure it out?
“Okay.”
As you nod at him one last time, in the most awkward final goodbye that anyone has ever witnessed in real life or on TV, Offender cringes.
“-Hey, nobody answered my question. What are you doing?” Panic is starting to set in for real, as you leave, and Slender makes no move to follow you, or waive, or say anything else. He just watches.
What is this?? Anyone with even one working braincell can tell that these two are more meant for each other then any other so-called fucking 'romance' in history. What is this!?
Panicking even more, Offender wants to go and catch you before you get away, but instead of the graceful chase he was intending to give, he manages to get caught trying to escape the couch and tumbles off of it and hard onto the wooden floor. Its not been waxed in a long time. He’s going to have splinters in his face, for sure.
At least this gets Slenders attention, who stops watching you leave for the last time, and turns to look dubiously at his brother. It proves as nearly a distraction from his heart burning in his chest, so he’s eager to get to the insults. “... Are you starting to age? One of the first signs is loss of coordination, so you may well be. If you start to lose your hearing, do let me know. I’m next, after all.”
“No, I’m not starting to age, you spiteful little dick.” Offender, again gracelessly, gets up from the floor and fixes his coat, before stomping over to Slender with a firm, angry finger pointed. “I was disoriented, by the bullshitery happening a few feet away!”
Slender's voice is still dull, but in a difference way now. Tired. He just wants to go to his room and sleep for 11 weeks. His heart feels like its oozing out of his rib cage. Like its become liquid, and it’ll never be better again. This is too much, he didn't sign on for this, this is one of the many many reasons that humans are foul, loathsome creatures he shouldn't bother himself with, fuck- Why didn't he listen to his own goddamn advice?
He tries to perk up, though, for the sake of one of his favourite kind of digs. “Oh, is Jeff home?”
“Can you stop playing around for a couple zeptoseconds and talk straight with me, pixie boy?”
Ah, ‘Pixie boy’. Slender’s been waiting for that little nickname to come back around... not. Offender named him that as Slender's attitude really began to blossom as he grew up, because he resembled one of those little, spiteful, tricky fairies that humans go on and on about stealing their firstborn's, and such. Like Slender would ever want anything with a snivelling little infant. At least not a living, one- And he wouldn't bother leaving a replacement.
“No, shan’t. And can’t. Good day.” Slender makes a yawning sound, genuinely tired even not counting the disgusting heartbreak rushing like sepsis poisoning through his veins- from arguing with you all through the night before you came up with your very sensible conclusion, to end things. Offender watches, in complete disbelief and exasperation as Slender turns his back on him and heads through to the kitchen.
“Bitch, if you think I’m gonna give up that easy... “ Offender mutters to himself, as he rolls up his sleeves for emphasis and goes after his little brother.
-Who hears what was just muttered, and enquires about his supposed consequences, if he did indeed think that Offender would give up that easy. Cheekily. “Hm?”
“Then- you’ll-... be sorry-” Slender laughs quietly, and Offender gets the idea that that answer is not the right one. He also wants to punch him, but what else is new. “You will be... you will... you’ll be sorely mistaken, young man!!”
Oh, fuck. Offender thinks. I’m starting to sound like Splender. Except somehow less intimidating. Goddamn.
They travel through the mansion until Slender gets to his room. He slams the door closed right before Offender was to walk in after him, gets a frustrated swear in response, and is met with a big brother to the face a second later, when Offender teleports right in front of him.
Slender sighs in utter discontent.
Without a word, though, he veers around Offender and heads for the left wall of his room, which he’s converted into a makeshift kitchen. So that he can have tea and breakfast, without having to venture into public eating area and see people. He fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove, using a tentacle to turn the dial. He doesn't turn back to Offender, just stands at the stove and watches the old fashioned, open topped kettle.
God, he’s diminished. Its taking all he has to keep up the front he has, now. He takes a slow, deep breath in. Why did he do that? Why did he end it with you? Slender suddenly feels the urge, physically, to move forward and get you back, even if he has to beg on his knees, but-
Slenders shoulders slowly, gently drop again as he lets out the breath. -but, he cant. He wont let himself.
This is the best, for both of you.
Mostly for them. Slender cant help but add on. Because, its true. He wants nothing, quite like he wants for you to be happy. If it meant his own destruction, which it apparently does, then that's what he'll do. He'll make it happen. He'll suffer.
“Tea?” Slender pipes up, starting the conversation this time himself, surprisingly. Offender looks at his back with a mix of ‘I don't know what to do here’ and that rare bit of ‘help him’ that always seems to come tearing out of the deepest parts of him when his brothers are in trouble. He had been reading Slender's thoughts and now he understood what his little brother was thinking- but it was still dumb as hell. And he refuses to take it.
His voice is cold, but his words give him all away, when he speaks next. “I want you to know that if that’s what you really think, that you’re both- that they’re, gonna be better for this, then you're delusional. But I know that you don't listen to anyone else, so yes. I would like tea. Thanks.”
It relaxes Slender a little knowing that Offender knows where he stands. That he doesn't have to nail into his brother how fixed his mind always is on things, like he has to with nearly everyone else who thinks they can change his mind. They cant. No one has that ability and its quite exhausting proving that over and over. He supposes that's one thing his idiot brothers are good for.
He nods in response, the slightest bit of relief dripping off his forehead.
The next few minutes are silent, except for the eventual question of ‘Earl Grey or English Breakfast?’, and the response of ‘Irish’. The silence continues, until Slender pushes a cup into Offenders hands and then finally, finally rests down in an elegant chair and table that looks out on his beloved forest. There’s another chair, which Offender finds home in, as Slender looks depleted with his shoulders hunched forward, his fingers tight around his cup, and his gaze on the window. Or, what’s outside, of course.
Seeing this, what Offender can only construe as a look of longing- he tries again. “So... you... don't wanna make up with Y/N, because...?”
Slender sighs, giving in to the conversation. Any other day, he’d fight it till the cows came home, but today... he just doesn't have it in him. Too... tired. He shifts his focus onto the dark, milk-less void of in his cup and slowly, shakily lets go with one hand to trace the edge gently. “I want off this rollercoaster, Offender. Y/N and I... we don't do anything but fight. I love them, somehow- but I’ll live forever, while they wont. They deserves to spend their limited amount of time in peace, and they wont get that with me. That's just... how it is. That's what we have seen.”
“You know it only feels like you fight all the time, when you’re fighting... that's normal, bro. There’s plenty of time when you and that kid are freaken… merged like black holes.” Oh, wow, that is not a bad analogy. Okay- “That must be why you’re hurtin’ so much now.”
“Black holes stay around for a long time.” Slender tells him immediately, and Offender hates him in that moment for knowing about space.
“Okay, bad analogy.”
“Yes.”
Frustrated again, Offender puts his tea firmly on the table to arouse attention. “Alright, new angle. It will come as no shock to you that we’re about as evil as that devil bastard himself, yes? We’re absolute turds next to the fucking gold crapping angel that is Splender, and the charity funder that is Trend.” Slender shifts, at that. Yes, that’s true. But does he needs to put it so unflatteringly? “ -Yet, that sweet, probably hallucinatory human out there in the forest fell in love with you. And you, with all your crusty, hates-every-damn-thing-ness, fell in love with them too. Love! You! Do you know how crazy that is? One in 7 billion. And that's with normal fucking people. Why the fuck are you letting it disappear???”
“Its for the best-”
“That kid, that mortal person, out there, is the best thing either of us could ever have hoped to deserve and you stumbled upon it! Now, you think you can just let them walk away?? And, also, what makes you think you're capable of that, anyway?”
Slender brings the tea, shakily to his ripped lips. This is starting to annoy him again, so he takes a deep breath. “...- ”
“You’ve never been able to do it before!!” Offender mildly rages, exasperated, as he stands up, letting his chair squeal back behind him. Slender looks up, to see his face over his tea. “Okay, okay. One last thing. Tell me, Slender. Can you stand to wake up tomorrow, and feel absolutely fucking empty? Because that's what's coming. You’re going to sleep peacefully all night, without a turn or even a snore escaping you, and you're gonna wake up and for a second you’re not gonna remember. But this ain't somethin' you can sleep off. You're gonna hurt, its probably gonna feel like you're dying, and its gonna be all your fault. You gave away the very last thing, that you should have.”
At the mental image that penetrates his mind and, god forbid, his heart, Slender physically winces. Nearly looses hold of his cup.
Offender just watches him for seconds, calming down from his outburst... before shoving his hands deep into his pockets, and pushing back his shoulders. Hopefully, that did it. Hopefully, that's enough -Besides, all this caring is starting to give him back pains. He desperately needs to go do something bad. Maybe he’ll hit up the streets.
Before he teleports away, Offender doesn't quite catch sight of the way Slenders tea gets set down on the table. His body convulses ever so slightly, at the realisation of how fucking wrong he is.
Summary: It’s a race against time to save your crew, but will it be too late?
Length: 2098
Warning: Violence, intense action stuff, wounds
A/N: Got too long, part 4 is coming, woof! Also, congrats on graduating @crazy-obsessed-enby !! I’m proud, I’ll be graduating next year, too!
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂
Two shots were heard, one from Gunther, where he missed and hit the ceiling and one from you, standing a few feet away from behind Wil, holding a gun and glared deadly daggers at him. You aimed it towards Wil’s hand, and managed to shoot his gun out from his hands.
“Get. Off. My. Ship,” You gritted out, slowly walking towards him, and pressed the gun against Wil’s back. Wil slowly raised his arms up, turning to face you slowly. Mark watched you, pure fury in your eyes, an aura that made him shiver with fear.
“Any more movement towards my crew, and I’ll rip your spinal cord out, and shove it back down your throat,” You threatened, raising your gun higher so it would point at his face. He stared at you for a second, which felt like it was hours, until he breathed out a soft chuckle, then soon grew into a loud giggle, then an insane laugh. He clutched his stomach as if you said the funniest joke ever, which made you even more angry.
“You really haven’t changed at all!!” He manically said, his hand reaching to grab his butterfly knife and lunged at you. Gunther immediately pulled the trigger to shoot at Wil, but the insane man just blew a raspberry.
“Mommy and daddy are talking!” Wil snapped his fingers, and in an instant, Gunther’s gun was gone. You heard the ADS leader spit out some curses, and you jumped out of Wil’s slashing.
You ducked under Wil and bashed your fist against the door pad, which closed the hall door to prevent the crew from getting hurt. You ignored the shouts from them and charged at the insane man, who was basically dance fighting.
“Stop it Wilford! I told you that I won’t play anymore of your games!” You hissed at him, redirecting his attacks. Wil giggled loudly and managed to slash your cheek, making you yelp in pain.
“I told you to stop playing this game! Now you’re going to play something else! Something more… heisty!” He gleefully claimed, which made your eyes widened at his words. No. He’s not taking you away.
“I’m not part of your reality anymore, Wilford! This is my own reality, and I could do whatever I want!” You finally got the upper hand and got the butterfly out of his hand, and pressed your own knife against his neck.
“In here, I can stop you from doing your shit,” You growled, pushing him back to the airlock slowly, so close to finally getting rid of him.
“Can you?” He tilted his head like a puppy. You opened your mouth to say something else, but Wil shushed you by placing a finger on your lips.
“I think you should be more worried about your wound than throwing a tantrum,” He crossed his arms with a disappointed parent. You were confused as to what he meant, but suddenly felt pain at your waist.
You looked down to see a stab wound in your stomach, making your vision feel dizzy. You placed a hand over your wound, and you got pushed against the wall by Wil, who grabbed your other arm and pinned it over your head.
“Now don’t get all pouty with me! After all those times you had to restart to get a perfect loop, how many times did you use your crew mates as pawns to get what you want?” He tsked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you really going to put them through hell again just for you to do it all over?” The way Wil said it, and with that stupid grin on his face, it’s all just a joke to him. You tried to scowl at him, but he pushed you further against the wall.
“Hush now, my dear gumdrop. We will have fun, with Damien and Celine again,” Wil cooed, bringing his butterfly knife up to your face. You then yelled in pain due to Wil pressing the knife in your wound.
“Just let me bring you to sleep,”
SHING
What he didn’t expect, or what any of you didn’t expect, was for a knife to be deep inside Wil’s side, and for Mark to push it deeper with an angry look. You covered your mouth in shock at the action, as Wil dropped the knife from his hand.
“We’re both tired of everything we have been through because of the wormholes. We finally have the happy life we worked hard for, and I’m not going to let you take that away!!” Mark growled and kicked the knife away.
“You better not move if you know what’s good for you!” Gunther went into action and pulled out another gun, with Mark pushing Wil to the ground and digging his knee on the man’s back. Celci and Mack took into action and ran to your side, helping you up.
“Such a shame…” Wilford mumbled out, straining his head up, but it was forced down by Gunther’s boot. Burt came back with first aid and went over to try and treat your wound.
“Gumdrop, we would have so much fun together… yet you try so hard to try and avoid me,” He said in a sad tone, tsking like he was scolding a child. That made Mark furious. Doesn’t Wil see that you’re in pain, wounded because of him, and he’s acting as if you started the problem?!
“What should we do with him, Captain?” Celci asked hesitantly, with her arm balancing you to stand. You looked down at Wil, who kept on spewing nonsense while giggling, and looked down the hall.
“Send him to the airlock,” You simply said, not making eye contact with any of them. They all looked at you in shock, with Burt finishing your wound. Mack watched at you for a moment, before nodding.
“You heard the Captain, throw him in the airlock!” He turned to Gunther and Mark, who immediately did as they were told and lifted Wil up, who made no effort on fighting and kept on giggling like a madman.
“You can never avoid me!!” Was the last thing you heard before doors shutting and the computer saying air locked opened. You sighed in relief, but then felt your knees buckled under you. You collapsed in Burt’s arms, where he held you closely to him.
Mack watched you, feeling guilt and sadness, seeing you like this. But before he opened his mouth to say anything, the ship began to shake violently. Celci and Mack held onto the side walls as Burt kept you steady, and Mark and Gunther ran back in view.
“Captain! The wormhole is back!” Mark panicked, all of the memories that happened to you and Mark were flooding back, so he cowered in fear. You noticed Mark’s reaction and quickly realized what was happening.
“It’s not a wormhole! It’s Wilford!” You shouted angrily, grabbing the ship’s side to stand up straight.
“He’s not going to let me go that easily, he never did,” You gritted out. You knew what he was doing, how he was trying to use a wormhole to bring you back to his reality so he could do whatever he wants with you. You’re not going to let that happen.
“I’m going to need help from all of you, we need to escape that wormhole like before, if not, we’ll be stuck in Wilford’s reality forever,” You hissed, trying to to let your wound get worse.
“Gunther, make sure weaponry is seacure. Celci, check on cryo to make sure there aren't any leaks. Burt, check for any damages in case we go through. Mark, watch over reactor,” You commanded the crew, who nodded and ran off to save the Invincible II, leaving you and Mack alone.
“Mack,” The head engineer turned to you, and you gave him a smile, still in pain.
“Take control of the ship,” That made Mack freeze and look at you like you had multiple heads. The amount of times he tried to be Captain, to take control, you always shot it down and how upset he would get. And now you’re offering him to be Captain, so why is he so hesitant now?
“Captain, I-” You cut him off by placing a hand on his cheek and giving him a soft look.
“Mack, I know you’ll get us out of here. I’ll be fine, just go and save us,” You said, smiling a little. He stared at you for a moment, before slowly nodding.
“Go to the med bay and rest, for the crew,” He added the last part quickly, and you felt lips on your cheek before he ran down the hall. You gave a small laugh and limped your way to the med bay.
“Computer, activate Wormhole Protocol!” You managed to yell out, trying to regain your vision.
“Wormhole Protocol unable to activate due to-” Computer’s voice was cut off, glitching until you heard a familiar voice.
“Due to you being a sore loser, gumdrop! You can’t keep avoiding me!!” Wil’s voice boomed out through the hall.
“Wilford! You stop cheating!” You shouted angrily. If he wants to be stubborn, you can be stubborn back.
“How dare you say that?! I never cheat!!” He gasped, appalled at your accusation.
“How about that time when we played murder mystery?” You hissed, pressing your hand over the door pad to get into med bay.
“You started to like it!” He defended, and you knew he crossed his arms and stomped his foot like a child.
“I’m going to kill you, Wilford!!” You scowled, pointing at the ceiling.
“Oh, how I missed you threatening my life, sugarplum! You’re just so filled with cute anger!!” He swooned, which made you realize talking to him was pointless.
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂
Mack made it to the main controls, where he pressed down on the panel to activate the wheel.
“They don’t belong with you, Mat my dear,” Mack froze, hearing Wil’s voice so close.
“They belong with me! They always belonged with me since the beginning! We partied together, we grew up together, I should have them here with me!” Wil whined and argued.
“Captain belongs here, where they don’t have to deal with you! They made up their mind, why can’t you see that!?” Mack argued back, feeling furious with the man.
“Why can’t you see that you’re not real?” Mack stopped at that statement, all he could hear was the ship creaking and shaking, then faded into silence.
“Each and every member on this ship, you’re nothing but a pawn in this reality. They could simply get rid of you if they wanted to. They get to choose whether you exist or not,” Wil explained further, where Mack felt an invisible grip around his wrist, stopping him from pressing down on the wormhole protocol.
“Getting rid of them, can make you be in control for once. Let you choose your path instead of them,” There were various voices getting louder and closer, which made Mack realize Wil was literally in his head.
“Everyone here is just here for their amusement. You can fix that,” Wil giggled out, voices swarming around his head.
Mack suddenly felt a force grip his neck tightly, which he instinctively tried to claw at whatever was holding him. With a quick flash, the engineers could make out a distorted Wilford in front of him, who gave him a giant smile, showing his teeth.
“Just give them to me,”
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂
Meanwhile, you were hooking yourself up at med bay, trying to hold it together for your crew. You prayed that Mack would know what is right and get you all out of here. You felt the life support getting injected into your body, where you know you had only a few minutes of consciousness.
“Please Mack… do the right thing…” You whispered, body feeling heavy.
“Wormhole protocol activating, advise to be in cryopods,” You finally heard, m,Qing you smile at that. The ship shook once more, and you felt yourself growing tired. Then, you heard Wil, but now… he was begging and pleading.
“NO SUGARPLUM!! I CAN’T LET YOU LEAVE!! YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I REMEMBER!!” You covered your ears to ignore his cries, avoiding the guilt and shame growing. Even after everything he’s done, he was still your friend.
“YOU’RE THE ONE I STILL HAVE, THE ONE THAT HASN'T GOTTEN AWAY, THE ONE I STILL LO-!!” You didn’t hear anything else as you blacked out from the life support.
“Wormhole protocol engaged, high speed activating… now,”
Synopsis: Instead of being caught by Dr. Strange, the injured Doc Ock stumbles into a very oblivious Y/N.
Warnings: Angst, canon-typical violence, Mentions of Blood and Injury, Age Gap (reader is in their 20's), Alcohol and Smoking, Cussing, Mental Illness, probably smut at some point idk
snowghoul
kaledo-art
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
janainaart
gummygunk
romaincrisis
tangentwithtanner
titsay
