#telepathic bond

[gav-san]

Cosmic Joke: Kaido of the Beasts (2/2)

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picture from Manga/anime

Kaido x Reader Length 15 K+ Rating: 18K+ Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Language, Dark Themes, Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Captivity, sexual content, aphrodisiac (kind of), black comedy, tonal absurdity, imfao it is what it is

Previous

-X-Unexpected Sights-X-

You did not know where your aunt Higurashi went.

Of course you didn’t. That was the point. Your great-aunt moved like rot through silk—quiet, patient, inevitable. She could vanish into shadows and reemerge days later with the stink of schemes clinging to her veil. Two weeks ago, she had slipped away, murmuring something about “devotional offerings.” You had interpreted that in her language, which meant lying to gods for fun and profit.

You did not question it.

You should have.

When Higurashi returned, she was smiling. That alone should have been warning enough. Her smiles were oil slicks: shiny, suffocating, and always hiding something rotten beneath.

You asked where she had gone. She waved her fan as if the question were boring.

“A religious summit,” she said. “Very dry. So many men arguing about heaven.”

You should have pushed. You should have seen the trap. But you didn’t.

Because you had your hands full.

Denjiro had proposed again. This time, he had kissed you.

His nieces and nephews had cheered when they saw it. The littlest one clapped her hands until they were red, shrieking with delight, while an older boy shouted that now you had no choice but to marry him. Another child wrapped his small arms around your leg, holding tight as if by sheer will he could bind you and Denjiro together forever.

It was sweet. Too sweet. And it broke something inside you.

Because you knew you did not love him as he loved you. His feelings were a steady river, strong and unwavering, a promise carved into the bedrock of his soul. Yours were not. They were a tangle of debts and affections, gratitude for his loyalty, sorrow for the burdens he carried, but not the fire he longed for. Not the kind of love that could burn through a lifetime of hardship.

You wanted to kiss him back. You wanted to give him children and grow that dream of a family, to weave yourself into their laughter and let that be enough. But when his lips pressed against yours, your heart remained still.

The children’s joy rang like bells, but to you it sounded like a dirge. You smiled for their sake, for Denjiro’s, but behind your lips, the silence of your heart was deafening.

Denjiro looked at you as though you were the answer to every prayer he had never spoken aloud. You looked back and saw only the kindness of a man you could not love the way he deserved. His thumb brushed your seastone bracelet as if it were an oath.

And when you caught Higurashi watching from the shadowed doorway, her fan half-raised to hide the oily curve of her smile, you realized she had seen it too.

That night, after the children had gone home with Denjiro, the house felt too quiet. Their laughter lingered like the warmth of a fire just snuffed out. You had stood at the door watching them follow him down the street, little hands clutching the hems of his robe, one perched on his hip as though he were the only father they had ever known. He had looked back once, eyes bright with hope, and you had forced yourself to wave.

When you turned, Higurashi was waiting.

She sat in the darkened room, fan half-raised, veil shadowing her face. The lantern light caught the edges of her painted lips when she spoke. “I despise that boy.”

Your chest tightened. “He is not—”

“Do not waste your breath defending him,” she snapped. Her voice was sharp as a blade honed to the edge. “He struts about like some loyal retainer, but I see him for what he is. A scavenger. He gathers strays and parades them like trophies, as if he can make himself important by pretending to be a father.”

“They are his blood,” you said softly, though the words felt feeble.

“They are burdens,” Higurashi hissed. “And he would make you carry them too, if you let him. He wants you chained to his side, weighed down with his snot-nosed kin. He would drag you into his small life and call it devotion. Do you want that? To end as a wife in rags, chasing after orphans while the world burns?”

Her fan snapped shut with a crack.

“You are Kurozumi. My blood. You were not meant for him.”

You swallowed hard, the silence of the house pressing in on you. You thought of Denjiro’s kiss, of the way the children had cheered, of how sweet it had felt for one fragile moment—and of how still your heart had been.

Higurashi leaned closer, her eyes gleaming behind the veil. “Stay away from him. I will not have that boy muddying what has already been decided. You think you have choices, but you do not.”

You furrowed your brows, a tight knot forming in your chest. “What do you mean?”

She huffed, the sound like a toad croaking in the dark. The fan in her hand flicked open again, a slow wave stirring the lantern’s flame. “Wano has been sitting in the quiet for far too long. But the world has found it. Power has found us, my dear niece. And you are not available for any man, unless he is the strongest.”

Her words chilled you. The way she said it was not a threat but a declaration, as though your life had already been written in a script you had never seen.

Your voice was thin. “The strongest?”

Higurashi’s laughter was low and ugly, like glass dragging across stone. “Not Denjiro, with his tragic little loyalty. Not some foolish retainer chasing dreams of a better country. No. I speak of power that can tear mountains in half and sink fleets with a single roar. That is the only man worthy of you. The only man whose claim cannot be denied.”

Your stomach tightened, though you did not dare name the shape of the dread curling in your mind. “Of what do you speak?”

Her eyes glinted behind the veil, twin points of cruel amusement. “The Kurozumi name will rise again, and you will be the jewel that binds Wano’s throne to a power greater than the seas themselves.”

Your stomach dropped, and your body felt faint. This wasn’t the empty gesticulation of a half-mad woman. No, her words carried weight—the kind of weight that crushed, the type that sank nations.

“What have you done?”

Higurashi’s fan snapped shut. The sound was sharp as a blade being sheathed. The silence after it rang louder than any answer.

She leaned in, her shadow stretching long, falling over you like a storm cloud that promised no rain, only ruin. “What, my niece, do you know of your soulmate?”

Your face crumbled in confusion. The question twisted something deep inside you. You swallowed, throat dry, voice breaking. “He is a bad man. A beast—”

Higurashi chuckled, the sound wet and foul, the kind of laugh that made your skin prickle as if worms crawled beneath it. “Let me teach you a little something about the world, and who walks upon it.”

With a deliberate slowness, she stood. Her cane tapped once against the floor, the sound echoing in the dim room. From the folds of her robe, she withdrew a square of paper, creased and smudged with travel. She held it between two fingers as though it were a talisman.

“Here.”

You stared at it, reluctant, until her gaze pressed you into obedience. With some prompting, you reached out and unfolded the sheet. The paper crackled under your hands.

“We don’t speak of them much here,” Higurashi said coyly, “but the world is filled with pirates.”

At the top of the paper, in thick black letters, was a single word.

Wanted.

Your eyes dragged down, and your breath caught.

Beneath was a picture of a man. His body was enormous even in still ink, shoulders hunched forward as though the paper itself bowed beneath the weight of him. Two great horns jutted from his head, not ornamental but natural, a crown of bone that marked him as something more beast than man. His jaw was square, his mouth twisted into a feral snarl, teeth bared like a predator ready to tear through steel. The heavy muscles of his neck and arms seemed to ripple even on the page, a body built for war and destruction.

But it was his eyes that held you. Fierce and unblinking, they glowed with a molten intensity that felt alive even in print. It was as if the ink itself could not cage him, as if the heat of his gaze might burn straight through the paper and set the room alight. They were the eyes of a creature who had faced death and laughed, the eyes of a man the world called indestructible.

Below was a name:

Kaido, King of the Beasts. The Strongest Creature Alive.

And under was an unfathomably large number. 

Your stomach lurched. Your vision swam. This was no annoying voice grumbling in your head, no half-drunken mutter that had haunted your sleepless nights. This was real. This was him. Sweat pooled at your brow, sliding cold down your temple as the truth pressed in on you.

Higurashi chuckled.

“You understand? I found your Kaido.”

He was a monster. A calamity. A creature that the world itself called indestructible. The bond in your head that you had cursed, that you had tried to bind with seastone, was tied to a beast.

“He is calamity given flesh,” she crooned, her voice alive with ugly delight. “A creature of strength so vast it bends the world around him. And he is here, in Wano, for you.” 

You felt sick. You felt hollow. The poster trembled in your grip, your fingers white-knuckled as though you could crumple the truth out of existence. The seastone bracelet weighed your arm down.

Higurashi looked thrilled.

“He settled on Onigashima like a storm cloud waiting to break. He is the kind of man who can give us everything we lost. The kind of man who will make this country tremble and bow.”

Her words coiled around you, heavy and suffocating. You could barely hear her over the roar in your ears, the pounding of your own heart as it tried to deny what you already knew. 

The bracelet on your hand grew heavy.

You shook your head, your hands tightening into fists until your nails dug crescents into your palms. “Did—Did you go to this creature?”

“Of course,” she interrupted before you could finish, her tone suddenly cutting, precise as a knife pressed to the throat. “For you. And I am only informing you now because you must be prepared to endure what is coming. And to secure our family’s place in the new age. Do not dress it up in romance. This is not about love, child. This is about power.”

Your mouth went dry. The thought of her standing before the man on that poster—no, the beast—was unthinkable. The horns, the snarling teeth, the weight of those eyes. That was not a man to parley with. That was something storms prayed to.

Her veil shifted as she smiled, and it was that same oily smile that always heralded disaster, slick and suffocating. “So I ask again. What do you know of Kaido? Because soon, you will know far more than you wish.”

Your breath caught. The bond you had tried to silence with seastone throbbed faintly in the back of your skull, as if it had been listening this entire time, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to scream that she was wrong. But the truth pressed down on you like the weight of the sea.

Your soulmate was Kaido, the Strongest Creature Alive. And Higurashi had just opened the door to let him in.

You stumbled, rising too quickly, your knees nearly buckling as your back struck the wall. The wanted poster crumpled in your fist, its edges biting into your palm.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your voice shaking. “You told him everything, didn’t you? You’re planning to replace the Shogun, and using me to do so—”

Higurashi raised a brow, her movements deliberate, as if she genuinely could not believe you were this slow. The tilt of her fan was mocking, the veil hiding nothing of her disdain.

“Finally, you begin to see,” she said, her tone dripping with false patience. “Did you truly think I wandered the world begging at shrines for scraps of mercy? No. I deal in power. And there is no greater power than Kaido. He will crush the Kozuki, he will claim Wano, and with you at his side, the country will kneel.”

Her words hit like hammer strikes, each one steady, inevitable.

You shook your head so hard your vision blurred. “No. I will not be a pawn in this. I won’t let you—”

“Won’t let me?” Her chuckle was low and sharp, a sound that curdled in your ears. She stepped forward, cane tapping against the floor. “You think you have a choice? You think you can outrun the bond tying you to him? Foolish child. You are already marked. Even if you burn, he will find the ashes. Even if you run, he will follow the scent. That is what it means to be bound to the King of Beasts.”

Your chest heaved, your heartbeat a drumbeat of panic. You had thought the seastone freed you. 

And Higurashi, watching your terror, looked pleased. Her eyes glittered behind the veil like a cat savoring a cornered mouse.

“And do not worry, my dear,” she purred, the fan flicking open with a lazy snap. “I have Orochi and Semimaru taking turns to guard the estate. No need for you to ruin this plan as well.”

Your mouth fell open, the words lodging in your throat. Orochi. That sniveling cousin with his wormy grin and ambition far too large for the body that carried it. And Semimaru—her pet priest, always lurking, always chanting his sutras like curses, his seastone staff heavy with threat.

“You… you’re locking me in,” you whispered, the realization hollowing your chest.

Higurashi tilted her head, amused. “I’m securing you. There is a difference. You are the key to Wano’s future, and I will not have you scurrying about like a rat in a fire. Not when destiny is at our doorstep.”

Your pulse hammered in your ears. Destiny. That was her word for it. To you, it felt like a trap being sprung, iron jaws closing fast.

She leaned closer, her voice low, syrupy, impossible to escape. “Do not fight this. The King of Beasts has already been told. He knows of you, and he will come. Better to accept your role than to be dragged to it screaming.”

You pressed yourself against the wall, nails digging into the wood as if you could claw your way out. The bond in your head pulsed faintly, a dull throb like distant thunder. For the first time in weeks, you realized how fragile the silence had been, how quickly it could shatter.

-X-Family Matters-X-

Orochi had always been easy to read. Greedy men were. All it took was a smile at the right angle, a word that fanned his bloated pride, and his suspicion melted into smug self-satisfaction.

You entered Orochi’s chamber with the jug of wine pressed tight against your chest, your steps small and hesitant. The lamplight painted the room in sickly gold, and shadows of his grotesque form stretched long against the walls. He was already sprawled across his cushions, a grin spreading when he saw you.

“Cousin,” he drawled, licking his lips as though the word itself were a delicacy. “What brings you to me, looking so meek? You’re usually all sharp tongue and stiff back.”

You knelt low, bowing until your forehead nearly touched the mats, making your shoulders tremble just enough to seem fragile. “I am afraid, Lord Orochi,” you whispered. “They say Kaido is coming. That Higurashi has promised me to him. I—I am not ready for such a monster. He’s too big!”

His eyes glittered, small and sharp, and he leaned forward, delight curling his grin. “Kaido, eh? That drunk beast. Hah! To give you to him is a waste. I’ve wanted you for years, little cousin. Always so untouchable, walking past me like you were above the filth. And now you come crawling.”

You let your kimono slip just enough at the collar, cheeks coloring as though with shame. “I thought… perhaps before I am ruined, I should…belong to you. Better a man of our blood than…” You faltered, lowering your head, voice breaking like a frightened girl.

Orochi’s laugh was harsh and wet. He slapped his knee, eyes roaming brazenly. “Yes! That’s right. I can teach you first. Why should Kaido have the prize? Let him take the leftovers!”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze further, and poured his cup with both hands. “Then let me serve you tonight, cousin. Just one cup, one kindness, before the storm comes.”

He snatched the drink from your hands, suspicion already dulled by the vanity you had fed him. His lips pulled into a crooked smile. “At last, you know your place.”

He tipped the cup back and drank greedily, the wine dribbling from the corner of his mouth and staining his lips a dark, hungry red.

You smiled faintly, head still bowed, hiding the cold precision in your eyes. The sedative was subtle, bitter only at the last swallow. He did not notice. With each refill, his grip on the cup grew clumsier, his posture slackening.

His laughter rang through the chamber, too loud, too ugly. “Hah! You grovel well, cousin. All this time, and you come to me at last. Did you think I wouldn’t take what I’ve wanted?”

You murmured softly, pouring again, the sleeves of your kimono slipping lower at the collar. “Only to please you, Lord Orochi.”

The words sent him into another fit of laughter, his chest puffing, his hand pawing clumsily at you. His fingers fumbled against the silk at your shoulder, tugging without strength. “You flatter me well,” he slurred, his eyes already clouding. “Mine… first… let Kaido… take the scraps.”

His cup slipped from his hand, the red wine spilling across the tatami in a dark bloom. He sagged back onto the cushions, eyelids heavy, lips parted. Within moments, the snores began, loud and graceless.

You moved at once, the submission falling from you like a shed skin. With swift hands, you shrugged free of the fine silk, revealing the plain servant’s garb beneath. You tied the scarf around your hair, cinched the coin pouch tight at your hip.

But you hesitated long enough for one last glance. Orochi lay collapsed in his own excess, his robes twisted, his lips stained dark with wine, a wet line of drool sliding down his chin. The air was thick with the sour stink of drink, and his breath rasped out in heavy snores. His hand still twitched on the cushion where it had tried to paw at your body moments before.

The sight of him made bile rise in your throat. You had endured his laugh, his touch fumbling at your collar, the heat of his eyes crawling over you like worms. Now, to see him sprawled helpless in the ruin of his own greed, filled you not with triumph but with a sickened relief.

You pulled your gaze away sharply, as though looking too long would stain you further.

Head bowed like any other attendant, you slipped into the corridor, your sandals whispering against the mats. The stench of Orochi’s chamber clung to you like smoke, but you forced yourself forward. 

You slipped out through the estate window, the very one Orochi had been left to watch in Higurashi’s absence. He was no noble, not yet, only a petty cousin with delusions of grandeur. But the way he strutted around the halls, the way servants bowed with clenched jaws, he already fancied himself one.

His snores rattled through the night behind you, thick and graceless, and you let yourself drop lightly into the street below.

The Flower Capital was restless even after dark. Lanterns burned low in the alleys, their glow spilling over dice games, drunken arguments, and half-closed food stalls. The air smelled of soy and fish oil, heavy with smoke. You pulled the scarf tighter around your hair and hunched your shoulders, weaving through the crowd like any servant on an errand. The clink of coin at your hip was the only reminder of what you had been able to take.

Every glance felt dangerous. Every patrolman’s shuffle of sandals threatened to pin you in place. But you pressed on, step by steady step, until the great walls of the Capital loomed in the distance.

The last time you heard from Denjiro, Oden was in Kuri with his family. Kuri: rough, new, but honest in its freedom. If you could make your way there, you could warn him. About Orochi’s hunger. About Higurashi’s schemes. About the storm Higurashi had promised was waiting on Onigashima.

You kept to the narrow alleys, slipping past shuttered teahouses and darkened shops, heart hammering, the city’s watchtowers looming above you like watchful eyes. The gates would be barred at night, but there were other ways out. Ways Denjiro had once whispered to you when he came courting with the children clinging to his sleeves.

If you reached the road to Kuri before Orochi sobered, you could still change the course of what was coming.

Onigashima’s crude hall reeked of smoke and liquor. The Beast Pirates roared and brawled among themselves, but the moment Higurashi and Orochi approached the throne, silence rolled through the chamber like a wave.

Kaido sat slouched across the massive dais, kanabo resting against his shoulder, his golden eyes half-lidded but sharp enough to cut stone. He expected tribute. He expected results.

“You said you had something for me,” Kaido growled, voice rumbling low, like a mountain shifting under its own weight.

Higurashi’s veil twitched. Orochi swallowed hard, sweat prickling at his neck. “Yes, King Kaido, yes of course. Our family… our blood… she—”

Kaido leaned forward, his massive bulk casting a shadow that enveloped them completely. “Then where is she?”

Higurashi hesitated. Orochi’s mouth worked uselessly. The space beside them was empty.

Kaido’s lip curled, his breath steaming in the cold air. “You dare come before me with promises and no offering?” His voice cracked like thunder, making even his own crew flinch. “You waste my time.”

He rose, the kanabo slamming into the stone floor with a deafening crash that split the tiles beneath it. The Beast Pirates cheered at the violence, some laughing nervously while others jeered for blood.

Kaido did not take your absence lightly.

His roar shook the stone of Onigashima. The kanabo smashed through pillars, stone splitting beneath his rage. His crew cowered, cheering nervously as if their captain’s fury were entertainment instead of a warning.

“You promised me,” he thundered, golden eyes blazing. “You said she would be here. My soulmate!”

Higurashi’s veil trembled, but her voice was oily with confidence. “She cannot escape forever. The bond ties her to you. In the meantime, allow me to show you how we can secure Wano.”

Orochi dropped to his knees, trembling. “L-Lord Kaido, forgive us! She… she escaped! But she is Kurozumi! She is yours, I swear it!”

Kaido’s glare was molten, the weight of it enough to choke the air from the room. “Escaped?” His teeth bared in a snarl. “Do I look like a fool? Do you think the Strongest Creature Alive waits for scraps?”

Higurashi, desperate, stepped forward, her fan trembling in her hand. “We can bring her back. She cannot run far. The bond will draw her to you. She belongs to you already.”

Kaido’s laughter was low and humorless, rolling like distant thunder. He swung the kanabo lazily, the wind of it alone knocking Orochi flat on his face.

“You fail me again,” he said, voice cold. “It seems best the task is done by the competent.”

The hall erupted in howls of approval, the Beast Pirates chanting his name, but the promise in his words was heavier than stone.

The next day, Higurashi’s Devil Fruit power draped the Flower Capital in deceit. She took on the face and voice of the Shogun himself, the courtiers bowing in confusion and terror as “their lord” named Orochi as his successor. The ministers dared not question it. By the time the trick unraveled, Kaido’s forces had already thundered through the gates.

The Flower Capital fell under brute force. Beast Pirates stamped through the streets, their laughter drowning out the cries of the people. From the castle balcony, Orochi preened, his new title swelling in his throat. Kaido stood behind him, kanabo slung across his shoulders, daring anyone to object. No one did.

But Kaido was still seething.

That same week, the presses in the Capital began their work. Sheets of fresh posters rolled from the ink drums, each marked with your likeness. The streets filled with their damp, acrid smell.

The posters went up on every board, every wall, every tavern, every port. Merchants laughed nervously at the bounty’s size, then grew silent at the phrasing.

-X-The Slip Up-X-

It had taken you two long weeks of walking, ducking patrols, and sleeping beneath half-rotted shrines to reach the edge of Wano. You were thinner, dustier, and hungrier than you cared to admit. By the time you staggered into the sleepy coastal town, you were ready for nothing more dangerous than boiled rice and a corner to rest your aching feet.

Turns out you were bad at directions. Somewhere between here and Oden’s camp, you must have accidentally gotten turned around.

So you weren’t in Kuri, no.

Instead, you found yourself in an outlying town, in front of the bounty board, chewing on a stick of candied fruit, bought with berri. The sugar was sharp against your teeth, the taste almost comforting. Almost.

You were not built for discomfort, travel, and hardship. But you weren’t going to just willingly to enter another coup. Hell no. You were aware it probably wouldn’t make a huge difference, in the end. This would be the last nail in the coffin for your clan, and you’d be assumed guilty unless some action was taken.

So you were almost comforted.

Almost.

Until you spotted your own face.

You froze mid-bite. The lacquered candy stick tilted in your mouth as you stepped closer, squinting.

There you were. On paper.

You paused. Tilted your head. Blinked.

The poster read:

WANTED ALIVE: Princess of the Kurozumi

Soulmate of the Supreme Beast, The Moon Beneath My Thunderclouds, Property of Kaido.

Bounty: 1,300,000,000 Berries.

(Handwritten: DO NOT HARM.)

Someone had added little hearts. And flames. And in the corner, a doodle; an enormous, bulging arm flexing proudly next to a stick-figure sketch of you with horns scrawled on your head.

Your brain promptly shut off.

The candied fruit slid from your lips and dropped into the dirt with a faint thud.

You sat down, very slowly, right there in front of the board. Your knees folded neatly beneath you, skirts pooling in the dust. You were calm. Perfectly calm.

So calm.

So still.

So… graceful.

Like a swan folding its wings before imploding.

“Oh no,” you whispered, so softly the wind itself had to lean in to hear.

Your vision swam. The words on the poster blurred. But no matter how many times you blinked, the writing didn’t change. The Moon Beneath My Thunderclouds. Property. Hearts. Flames.

You pressed your face into your hands, sugar and dust smearing across your palms, and let out a single, strangled laugh.

It sounded too much like a sob.

The proprietor saw the scene.

She read it. She blinked. She looked at you. She looked back at the part that says property. And then she looked concerned.

“Oh no,” she echoed, in perfect harmony.

You haven’t moved. You are now quietly wheezing into your own bounty. 

By the end of the week, the posters were everywhere. Crude sketches tacked to tavern doors, nailed to shrine posts, even fluttering from the sleeves of gamblers too drunk to realize what they carried. Every time you saw your own face, poorly drawn but unmistakable in its intent, the air in your lungs turned to stone.

An incident at the tavern you’d been lying low at had been your breaking point. The wife’s whisper, the husband’s suspicious glance—it was enough. You had vomited up the farmer’s rice in the dirt, bile burning your throat, and fled into the night like a thief.

Since then, you had stopped sleeping in beds and stopped answering greetings. Stopped letting sunlight touch your face. You hid beneath scarves and shadow, your hands always busy to avoid questions, your voice softened into something unrecognizable.

The seastone bracelet was your lifeline. Its cold weight dulled the bond, kept his presence muted to a faint hum instead of a roar. Without it, you feared he would feel you as clearly as if you were standing before him.

And then came the news. Traders carried it across the country, murmured over sake cups, bartered in whispers:

“Kaido doesn’t want her hurt. Said anyone who touches her without permission gets fed to his men.”

“He’s paying enough to buy a village.”

“Not just money. Land. Food. Safe passage out of Wano itself. Anyone who brings her in can leave the country free.”

The words made your blood freeze.

You huddled beneath the floorboards of a teahouse, scribbling stolen charcoal across old planks. Routes, maps, remembered stories. There was one path left: the northern coast. Storm-wracked, cursed, avoided even by smugglers. But you had heard whispers of ships that slipped through there. Not safe. Not sane. But possible.

One chance. If you could reach them—board them—distance the bond—maybe he would never touch you again.

When you found the man who smuggled people out, he did not ask your name. He sat cross-legged across from you, his face shadowed beneath a straw hat. His eyes lingered on your wrist.

“Storms don’t scare me,” he said. “That monster does. You pay, or I feed you to him myself.”

Your fingers tightened protectively around the bracelet. “Coin isn’t enough, is it?”

The broker smiled, sharp and humorless. “Not coin. The bracelet. That trinket could buy a ship twice over. You give me that, and I’ll put you on the sea. Otherwise, you stay in Wano until Kaido finds you.”

Your stomach dropped, as though the floor had given way beneath you.

The bracelet.

The cold band of seastone hugged your wrist, silent and steady. It had dulled the bond for months now, muting Kaido’s presence until he was nothing but a distant hum, like thunder rolling far away over the mountains. Without it, the tether would flare awake. He would feel you again.

You hesitated, hand curling protectively around the band. “You don’t understand,” you whispered. “If I take this off, he’ll—”

The broker’s expression didn’t change. “Then don’t. And you’ll rot here until he comes. You’re the Kurozumi girl, aren’t you? They’ll sell you out for rice the moment they recognize your face. Maybe I will, if you don't hand it over.” He leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Choose.”

The word struck like a blade.

Your throat was dry. Slowly, trembling, you slid your fingers under the bracelet. The seastone was cold, heavier than iron, as if it resisted leaving you. For one long heartbeat, you wanted to refuse. To clutch it tighter, to stay hidden, to remain unheard.

But you wanted freedom more.

You pulled.

The clasp gave with a soft click.

The weight fell away from your wrist, and instantly the silence shattered. The bond surged alive, searing hot and suffocating. A pressure bloomed in your chest, a pull that rattled your bones.

Somewhere, far away, Kaido stopped.

You knew it, as surely as if you could see him. His head turned. His golden eyes narrowed. His breath thickened with smoke.

The connection, dulled for so long, blazed wide open.

The broker snatched the bracelet from your hand, his expression hard with greed. He tucked it quickly into his robe, already rising. “Good choice. Meet in the southern port in two days.”

But you could barely hear him. The world had gone thin, your ears full of phantom thunder. The bond throbbed, fierce and alive, like a beast stretching after a long sleep. It crowded out everything else—the creak of the floorboards, the shuffle of the broker’s sandals, even your own pulse.

You barely managed to leave him. Your legs carried you without thought, stumbling through winding streets until the walls of the town fell away and the fields opened before you. Rain slicked the soil, heavy and cold, drumming against your skin.

You clawed at the earth with raw hands, pulling yourself into the furrows where rice had once grown. Mud soaked through your clothes, the chill clinging sharp to your bones, but you dug deeper, as though you could bury yourself far enough to vanish from his reach.

That night, the storm swept through. Wind rattled the grasses, and pine trees shivered at the edges of the field. You curled into yourself beneath the rain, chest pressed tight to the earth, breathing in the smell of mud, roots, wet bark. Your heart stuttered in your throat, begging the bond to fall silent again.

And then his voice came.

Low. Quiet. Dangerous.

“Where are you?”

You froze. The sound was inside your skull, thick and heavy, carrying the weight of command.

Your breath shivered, fogging the air. It was not the drunken mutterings you remembered, nor the distant grumbling you had once dulled with seastone. This was clear, sharp, and undeniable.

You pressed your forehead harder into the mud, clinging to the dirt as if it could shield you. “No,” you whispered, your voice breaking against the roar of rain. “No, no, no—”

But the bond pulsed again, insistent. Alive.

You bit your tongue and said nothing.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” Kaido’s voice rumbled low, curling through your skull like smoke.

You stayed silent, your breaths shallow, each one fogging against the ground.

“A house,” he went on, slowly, with heat. “A garden. All of Wano at your feet. Peace.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, lashes heavy with rain. You would not answer.

“But you only get it if you stop running.”

Your hand found your fan beneath your sleeve, fingers curling white around the hilt. The mud sucked cold against your knees, grounding you even as the weight of his voice tried to drag you upward, closer, closer.

“Get. Lost,” you hissed, the words tearing out of you like broken glass. You lifted your head just enough for the rain to strike your face, for the storm to carry your defiance. “And if you want a Kurozumi, go marry Orochi.”

The bond stilled.

For a heartbeat, silence roared louder than the storm.

Then his laughter came, deep and rolling, like thunder breaking open the night. It shook you to your marrow, even though it was only in your head.

“Hah… sharp little tongue, hot with vitriol.” His voice dropped, dangerous and almost amused. “I missed you, my little moon.”.

You felt it the moment it began. Not a voice. Not a thought.

Pressure.

It slid into your skull, heavy and invasive, pressing against your ribs, your lungs, your very breath. It was him—Kaido—forcing himself through, pushing himself into the bond.

As he had done once before, long ago, by accident.

Bonds were emotional things. Intuitive. Fleeting. They were meant for glimpses, for stray thoughts, for echoes of laughter or pain. They weren’t meant to carry the crushing weight of observation Haki. But Kaido wasn’t the kind of man who obeyed the rules of nature when it inconvenienced him.

He was forcing his will through the link.

You staggered to your feet, mud slipping down your knees, your balance cracking under the pressure. The fields fell behind you as you half-stumbled, half-crawled toward the thin line of woods outside the northern hills. Pine trees loomed ahead like spears, their shadows shuddering in the storm. You reached the first trunk and braced against it, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Your knees buckled.

“No,” you hissed, clutching your head with both hands. “Get out.”

He didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t speaking. He was listening.

Not for your words, but for your world.

The sharp tang of pine pitch on the wind.

The whistle of birds, native only to a particular region.

The damp chill of the air, thinner, cleaner than the capital’s.

And worse—images bled unbidden from your eyes to his. The warped bark beneath your palm. The smear of mud across your sleeve. The faint lantern light from the village you had just left, flickering at the edge of the storm.

Every heartbeat, every trembling blink, was one more breadcrumb he gathered.

Your pulse raced, terror and rage knotting together as you realized: Kaido wasn’t just reaching for you.

He was hunting you.

You spun on the spot, eyes wild, stumbling back down the slope. Branches clawed at your sleeves, stones bit into your sandals. You ripped the scarf from your shoulders and dragged it over your face, smearing dirt across your skin. You crammed bitter herbs into your mouth until your tongue burned, rolled through wet earth until your hair clung heavy with mud.

You whispered prayers, half-remembered and broken, scattering them like crumbs in the storm. You forced yourself to think wrong, to think loud—nonsense syllables, lies, distractions, anything but where you actually were.

Three cats in a teapot. Red fish swimming backwards. The capital, yes, you’re in the capital, in the markets, in the teahouse, in—

But his presence did not retreat.

If anything, it grew sharper. More precise.

His weight pressed harder through the bond, narrowing like the point of a blade. He didn’t need your words. Didn’t need your frantic tricks. He was drinking in your surroundings, your heartbeat, the cadence of your breath.

You felt him pause.

The silence stretched taut, thick as rope, and your stomach dropped.

Then it sharpened—his attention slicing through the noise in your head as if it were a cobweb torn asunder.

Your skin prickled. The storm above seemed to hold its breath.

Then his voice came, deep and unhurried, spoken like a hunter murmuring to himself.

“Low ground. Near Amigasa. South-facing incline.”

You screamed. Out loud. The sound tore itself from your throat, raw and ragged.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

Your cry rang against the trees, bounced off wet bark, and carried out into the storm. Birds startled from the branches, taking flight in a burst of wings. Your hands clawed at your scalp as though you could tear him free, nails digging into your skin.

The bond pulsed. Not with words this time, but with his breath, slow and steady, filling your ribs as if he were standing behind you.

Then came the laughter: low, rolling, rumbling through your bones like distant thunder.

“Hah… no.”

The single word cracked like a whip across your mind.

You stumbled back, knees buckling, chest heaving. The mud clung to your palms, and the taste of herbs turned bitter ash on your tongue. You wanted to run. You tried to vanish into the soil itself. But the pressure of his will stayed coiled around you, no matter how far you staggered.

The storm broke overhead, rain lashing against your face, but it was nothing compared to the weight of him, pressing closer.

Word traveled faster than rain across the provinces.

That Kaido had taken to the sky.

His massive body coiled through the storm clouds, scales slick with rain, horns gleaming like spears of obsidian. His eyes glowed molten-gold in the dark, unblinking, burning through valleys and forests as though the land itself were parchment he could read.

That he was calling down lightning, bolts shattered mountainsides, split pines to ash, and seared empty rice fields. No armies hid there. No rebels, no bandits. He burned them anyway, not to kill but to illuminate his hunting trail. Every strike a torch to drive away the shadows where you might be hiding.

Looking. Examining.

Some swore they heard his voice carried on the thunder, guttural and low, muttering observations as though he were reading a map written across your bones.

“She passed here.”

One old monk near the Kibi border swore he had seen it clearly. A dragon wreathed in stormfire, breathing golden flames into the sky until the heavens themselves bent and groaned. Then, mid-roar, the monster had gone still. His voice rumbled across the hills like an earthquake:

“She is here.”

The monk said the storm wept afterward, rain flooding the hillsides, as if the sky itself feared what Kaido sought.

And through it all, the bond burned in your chest, dragging at your heart, tightening like a leash.

You stumbled for hours, from forest to cliff. So far, you made it to the rocky coastline, your limbs shaking, your mouth filled with the copper tang of blood from biting down too hard, holding back every scream the bond tried to wring out of you. The cliffs plunged thousands of feet into nothingness, the sea thrashing so far below it was only sound, a roar in the dark.

There was no other place left.

Kaido had been showing you his trail with every breath. Images bludgeoned through the bond—forests set ablaze, mountaintops split with lightning, rivers boiled dry. Glimpses of him as he followed, not as a man but as something greater and more terrible: a dragon vast enough to strangle the sky, a shadow out of legend. He wanted you to know. He wanted you to see.

You staggered down the sharp switchbacks that cut into the cliffside, boots slipping on slick rock, lungs heaving as though the storm itself had taken up residence in your chest. The path led to caves, black mouths yawning against the drop.

In one of the tiniest, driest crevices, you chose your grave.

You tucked yourself away as if for burial, the cave shallow, sharp stone biting into your knees as you collapsed. Your bones vibrated with exhaustion, your hands numb, your breath clawing its way out ragged and uneven.

And still, the pressure pressed.

And still, he searched.

The silence of the cave grew heavy, pressing against your ears, until even the sea seemed to hush. You pressed your face into the sand and whispered, hoarse, “Why won’t you stop?”

The bond pulsed.

And in that terrible moment, where the air was wet and still and heavy with all you couldn’t say, he answered.

Not with a voice.

Not with words.

But with feeling.

Something old.

Something monstrous.

Something that wrapped around you like smoke and steel, and yet—against every law of nature—something that could only be called longing.

It washed through you, vast and hungry, and you felt your chest ache not from exhaustion but from the sheer enormity of what it meant.

And for the first time in your life, you had no harsh response. For all of Kaido’s impurities, his love for you was as sharp and clean as lightning.

And you felt your soul respond in return.

-X-CAUGHT-X-

Kaido found you at the edge of Wano.

The cave wasn’t meant for people. It was narrow, damp, its stone walls slick with moss that dripped foul-smelling water onto your neck. The air stank of animal waste, rank and sour, and you had crawled past a dark smear of guano that looked too much like the hollow sockets of a skull. Your knees were scraped raw. Your hair hung in wet, matted clumps. Your hands trembled as you clawed deeper, trying to make yourself small enough to disappear.

But none of it mattered.

Because you recognized the beat of wings when they came.

And he had blotted out the sky.

The impact rattled through the earth itself. Kaido struck the ground like a god descending, like something the heavens had hurled down in fury. The shockwave shuddered through the stone, dust sifting from the ceiling to sting your eyes.

Claws split boulders in two. The wind screamed through the trees, ripping leaves into a storm of shrapnel. Pines bent low, their trunks groaning, their branches clawing the air as if in reverence—or terror. It was impossible to tell which.

You didn’t look. You couldn’t. Not when the bond surged so violently it turned your vision white at the edges, your heartbeat stuttering under its weight.

You curled tighter into the shadows, pressing your face to the damp rock, biting your tongue until you tasted iron.

But you could feel him.

Right there.

Just outside the mouth of the cave.

Close enough that the air tasted of ozone and smoke. Close enough that when you risked the smallest glance, you saw the edge of him—a glimpse of curved claws hooked into the soil, razor sharp and dripping. Teeth gleamed wet in the dark, steam curling from them in threads. Blue scales shimmered like storm-slick armor, each one big as your hand. And behind it all, framed by mist and shadow, two burning eyes glowed gold.

They did not blink.

They did not move.

They only looked.

And you knew, with a horror that sank into your marrow, that if Kaido wished, he could end you in a single breath. The cave entrance was small, but open. One gout of fire, and there would be nothing left but ash and bones pressed into the rock.

But he didn’t.

Instead, from beyond the entrance, he lingered.

He stared.

Minutes dragged like hours. You counted each heartbeat, waiting for the roar, for the blaze, for the strike of claws. None came. Only the crushing weight of his presence, a silence so heavy it pressed against your skull until your ears rang. Not a word through the bond. Not a sound but the hiss of his breath curling steam into the storm.

Then, at last, the low rumble of his voice reached you: slow, disbelieving, and dripping with disgust.

“You’re hiding in bat shit.”

The words struck like a slap, absurd and venomous at once. The cave walls shuddered with the weight of his contempt.

Your throat went dry. Mud clung to your lips, and you realized with shame that you stank of it, reeked of the guano smeared on the stone where you’d pressed your face. You were filth to him. A creature cowering in refuse, when he—Kaido—had scoured half of Wano to drag you from the shadows.

The bond pulsed, alive and scorching, carrying not just his words but the sneer on his lips, the curl of his fangs, the narrowing of those molten eyes. His voice seeped into the cave like smoke, thick and choking.

“You.” A beat, heavy enough to crush the silence. “My soulmate. The witch who’s been haunting my head, the most sought-for woman in the New World.”

Another pause, long enough that you thought the storm itself had frozen, holding its breath.

 “Choose this.”

The word dripped with contempt, echoing off stone slick with moss. More silence followed, weighted, suffocating, until it broke again with a snarl of disbelief.

“What part of this is better than me?”

You didn’t mean to laugh.

But you did. A raw, broken sound burst from your throat, choked through tears, sharp as shattered glass. It was ugly, mean, hysterical—but it was yours.

“Everything,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and ragged as you pressed yourself deeper into the shadows. “Even the shit.”

The words hung trembling in the air, and the bond surged so violently it rattled your teeth, his fury pressing through it like the crack of thunder.

Outside, Kaido’s massive form shifted, scales scraping against stone. His breath steamed into the cave mouth, hot and wet, carrying the smell of smoke and iron.

And then he laughed.

Not soft. Not human. But deep, rolling, monstrous. The kind of laugh that made the cliffs quake and the sea below churn harder against the rocks.

“You’d rather rot in a hole full of guano than let me see your face?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve crossed oceans. Flattened villages. Scorched forests—”

“And for what?” you snapped, your throat raw, your voice bouncing jagged against the cave walls. “To collect your prize? To tell the world you dragged your soulmate out of a cave like a beast with a chew toy?”

“You think that’s what this is?” His growl rumbled so low it shook grit from the ceiling, dust peppering your hair.

“Yes.”

“You think I’d come all this way for a toy?”

“Why not?” you hissed back, your nails biting into your palms. “You collect monsters. Weapons. Armies.”

A pause, then his voice returned: hot, molten, unshakable.

“And now I want you.”

The bond throbbed with the words, echoing in your chest until you thought your heart might split.

He exhaled, long and heavy, and the earth itself trembled beneath the weight of it. Pebbles tumbled from the edge of the cliff. The storm seemed to lean closer, listening.

“And you’re hiding,” he rumbled, his voice half-amusement, half-disgust. “In a literal shithole.”

The steam of his breath slid into the cave, hot and damp, curling around your face. Each exhale carried the faint taste of smoke and death, a reminder that all he needed was one spark to end you. His golden eyes gleamed brighter, the glow spilling further into your shadows. He was not moving away.

You buried your face in your arms, willing yourself to vanish into stone and silence.

The storm raged outside, thunder cracking against the cliffs, but in the cave the quiet stretched long—so long you thought perhaps he had grown bored, that maybe he had gone.

Then his voice came. Softer than before.

“Come out.”

Your nails dug into your skin. “No.”

The word was barely audible, hoarse and breaking, but it carried, and you knew he heard it.

The bond throbbed, hard and sharp, carrying his snarl before you even heard it aloud.

“You defy me in the dirt. In the dark. In shit.” His voice rolled, a dangerous sound, but no longer amused. “Do you think I’ll turn away?”

You pressed yourself deeper into your arms, shaking your head. “I think you should.”

Outside, claws scraped against stone. The earth quivered under his weight, pebbles tumbling into the abyss below.

“Then I’ll sit here until you are forced to come out.”

Your throat tightened.  “You’ll scare the bats.”

“They smell better than you do right now.”

You huffed into your arms, trying to smother the tremor in your chest with bitterness. “Marry them then.”

And then you heard it.

That awful, ragged sound.

At first, it was low, a rumble you thought might be the growl of his stomach or the shifting of his scales. But it grew, broke, rolled over itself. A sound so deep it rattled the cave walls and made the moss shiver.

He was laughing again, a full-body laugh.

Not kind. Not human. The sound was thunder dragged across stone, jagged and raw. It echoed in your ribs, shaking loose the fragile defiance you clung to. The whole cliffside seemed to quake with it.

“Hah… even now,” he rumbled, voice thick with menace and mirth. “My little witch bares her teeth in shit and shadows. You’d rather spit venom than look at me.”

And he did indeed wait.

He must have draped himself like a serpent over the cliffside, his massive coils pressed against the rock, his head resting just outside your cave like some grotesque guardian. His horns scraped the sky. His whiskers twitched faintly in the wind. His golden eyes never dimmed.

Hours bled away in the awful stalemate.

You curled into yourself, every muscle cramped, every breath shallow, your cheek pressed into cold stone. You tried to count the drip of water, tried to chase sleep, tried to pretend the weight outside the cave wasn’t there. But the bond betrayed you at every turn: pulsing steady, alive, reminding you he was closer than breath.

The sun began to rise above the tree line. Light spilled down the slopes, cutting through the storm that had dogged you for weeks. The beams caught him in full, casting his scales into an otherworldly sheen: blue and black, rippling with gold as the light struck them.

And he stayed.

Kaido, King of Beasts, parked on the mountainside with the emotional gravitas of a very large, very stubborn storm cloud.

He hadn’t moved. Not an inch.

Not since your last insult.

Not since you told him you would rather marinate in bat guano than ever crawl willingly into his arms.

The cliffs held their breath with you. The forest dared not rustle. Even the sea below had quieted, as though the whole world knew this waiting game belonged to him.

And all the while, his eyes burned, steady, patient, confident as though he could do this forever.

“Captain!”

You jolted. The word cracked the silence like a blade splitting wood. Your pulse lurched as more voices followed, bootsteps heavy on the stone path, armor shifting.

The smell reached you first: the sweat, wet leather, salt, and gunpowder. Men. Soldiers. The scent of testosterone and bloodlust carried on the morning air.

Kaido’s eyes flicked once, golden slits narrowing toward the sound.

When you inched forward, tilting just enough to peer around the jagged lip of the cave, you saw the boot of an enormously large man plant itself into the dirt beside Kaido’s coils. Black leather, scuffed and broad enough to crush your skull flat. You lifted your gaze slowly, carefully.

Wings.

Great black wings folded behind his back, gleaming faintly in the morning light. His body was carved muscle and steel, massive even among giants, his posture half-reverent and half-confused as he looked up at the dragon draped along the cliff. He wore a giant mask that did little to hide the confusion in his voice.

He was also too big to fit the hole you were in.

“Captain,” the winged man repeated, his voice pitched low with respect. “We thought you’d wanted to convene in Kuri to start the search. Why are you here?”

He cut off, frowning as he glanced around the broken terrain. Behind him, more of Kaido’s men gathered, hulking shapes bristling with weapons and scars. Their voices overlapped in murmurs, confusion sharpening into curiosity as their gazes shifted between the horizon and their leader.

Kaido didn’t answer.

He didn’t move.

The dragon’s great head remained angled toward your cave, golden eyes fixed, steam curling in slow threads from his jaws.

The soldiers shifted uneasily. The winged one’s brow furrowed, his boot grinding against the rock. “Captain…?”

The bond surged so hard it rattled your skull. You bit down hard on your sleeve, smothering the ugly, hysterical sound building in your chest. You were not going to laugh. Not here. Not now.

“Is that… a cave?” one of the men asked, his voice uncertain.

No answer.

“Is someone in the cave?” The masked mad queried, squinting down the cliff face.

A pause. The silence stretched taut. Then Kaido’s voice rumbled, flat, guttural, and dripping with offense.

“She won’t come out.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

The winged man blinked, slowly turning his head. First toward the dark slit of the cave. Then, toward Kaido’s massive form coiled like a storm cloud along the cliff. Then back again, his shoulders slackening as realization dawned.

And slowly, with dawning horror—

“Wait. This is her?”

The rest of the men muttered, some too low to hear, others unable to hide the disbelief. Their boots scraped on the stone as they shifted uneasily, looking between the legendary dragon of Onigashima and the filthy crack in the rock he guarded like a shrine.

“You still breathing in there?” Kaido asked casually.

“I’m forming a coven.” You muttered.

Kaido’s eyes narrowed, molten gold burning hotter as his lip curled over gleaming teeth.

“Hnn,” Kaido growled, the sound deep enough to make the stone beneath you vibrate—a noise that was less agreement than warning. “See.”

One of the others, a hulking man with horns curling from his head and partial armor strapped across his broad chest, frowned and leaned in toward the cave. His shadow cut across the ground, blotting out the rising sun.

“She’s in there?” His tone was more curious than reverent. “The soulmate?”

Kaido’s tail twitched, the massive spiked end carving a trench in the rock with a single irritable lash.

“She told me she hopes I get lice.”

The horned man blinked. His face twisted, unimpressed, as if weighing whether such venom was worthy of a bounty worth billions.

The largest man—the one with wings—squinted at the crack of the cave, shoulders rolling. “It’s too small for all of us. And the smaller pirates are in the Flower Capital with the toad.”

You assumed that meant Orochi. Against your better judgment, you found yourself almost liking the masked man.

Kaido said nothing.

Steam curled from his nostrils in long billows. His golden eyes stayed locked on the cave mouth, unblinking, as if your shadow was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The horned one tilted his chin, studying the darkness you were buried in, then looked back at Kaido. “And you’re just… waiting?”

The question was blunt. Almost foolish. The air thickened at once, the cliffs themselves seeming to draw back, bracing for Kaido’s wrath.

You, pressed tight against damp stone and doing your best to blend into the wall, nearly laughed out loud.

Kaido was embarrassed.

You could feel it through the bond, hot and raw. This man. This monster. This screaming, fire-breathing myth made flesh—was sulking. Sulking like a dog caught waiting outside the door because his men had shown up and seen the mess.

There was a rush of wind. A glow of light. The wet crack of shifting bones and the hiss of power folding back in on itself. The ground shook with the violence of it, and then—

A thud.

Sunlight speared suddenly into the cave mouth. Dust swirled through the narrow beam, catching on the damp moss.

You dared to peek through a crack in the stone.

And saw Kaido. 

Not in his monstrous dragon form, but in his human one: bare-chested, muscled, scarred. His hair fell loose over his shoulders, heavy and black as the storm clouds still curling on the horizon. His golden eyes burned with something that could only be described as aggrieved. Personally victimized, in fact, by the very concept of caves.

He glared at the entrance as if it had insulted him, as if the stone itself had dared mock his authority. Then, with all the quiet menace of inevitability, he lowered himself into a squat.

Massive forearms rested on his knees. His gaze fixed unblinking on the shadows where you hid.

And then, muttered under his breath, low and irritated—

“Still can’t fit.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself.

His head snapped up sharply, golden eyes narrowing. “You laughing at me?”

“No,” you said sweetly, every word dripping false innocence. “That was the bats.”

Your hand moved quickly, almost without thought. You’d been holding onto scraps—survivor’s garbage. A crust of stale rice cake. A lump of dead moss you’d used as a pillow. Nothing of worth, nothing you hadn’t been ready to throw away.

He just happened to be too close.

And his forehead just happened to be in the trajectory.

The rice cake hit with a flat thunk.

For one suspended heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then Kaido blinked. Slowly. As though your pathetic missile hadn’t struck him, but rather by the very concept of your audacity.

The bond pulsed so violently it rattled your ribs, carrying nothing but the raw, incredulous thought of did she just—

“Did you just throw something at me?” His voice was flat, dangerous, like a blade being drawn slowly from its sheath.

“No.”

“You threw food at my face.”

“Prove it.”

The silence stretched thin as a wire. Then he stood. Slowly. Every motion deliberate, every muscle flexing beneath scarred skin as if to remind you what was waiting the second you ran out of the cave.

“Get out here.”

“No.”

He rubbed his forehead, golden eyes never leaving the shadows where you hid. The smear of rice dust clung to his brow.

“You violated me.”

“Maybe you should try leaving.”

He cracked his neck, the sound like boulders grinding together. The cliff itself seemed to flinch at the noise.

This could have stretched into days. You knew it. He knew it. The bond thrummed steady, the stalemate tightening like a noose.

But Kaido’s presumed right-hand man—the one with the wings—was clever. Too clever.

“She’s been in there for how long?” His voice was careful, respectful, as though he already knew the danger of poking at his captain’s pride.

Kaido didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The silence was enough.

The winged man stepped back, the stone crunching under his heel. He inhaled. He exhaled. Then, in a tone so maddeningly calm it cut through the storm itself, he said:

“Captain…You could break this open.”

There was a moment.

A terrible, awful, magical moment where Kaido’s eyes widened just slightly. As his massive shoulders rolled back and straightened, the storm seemed to pause mid-breath, waiting. In the molten depths of his gaze, the light of a very, very bad idea began to bloom.

And then he said, with absolute, childlike joy—

“…I could.”

The bond pulsed so violently it made your stomach lurch, your head crack against the cave wall. Outside, you heard the delighted rumble of Kaido’s laugh, rolling like thunder across the cliffs.

“No,” you whispered, half to yourself, half to him. “No, no, no—”

But he was already reaching for the kanabo.

You screamed from inside the cave, the sound tearing raw out of your throat.

“DO NOT!”

Too late.

The earth cracked.

The boulders trembled.

And with the softest rumble of his knuckles brushing the stone—as casual as a man knocking on a door—the entire front of the cave gave way.

The world blinked.

Stone split like paper, shards skidding down the slope, dust exploding into the dawn. Light flooded into the hole where you’d hidden, merciless and blinding.

And there you were.

Sitting in the wreckage, draped in moss, streaked with bat droppings, dust, and the undeniable stench of rot. A feral thing cornered, your eyes wide and wild, your chest heaving as the last of the cave ceiling clattered to the ground around you.

Kaido loomed above, casting a shadow that filled the entrance. He grinned—sharp, feral, boyish all at once—like a child who had just found the last piece of candy in the world.

The bond pulsed hot, triumphant, nearly giddy.

“My little moon,” he rumbled, voice thick with victory. “Hiding doesn’t work if I can move the earth itself.”

You lunged.

It went about as well as one might expect when one’s opponent was the size of a shrine and made entirely of muscle and poor life choices.

Your fists connected—once to his jaw, once squarely to his pride. Both blows landed clean. Both did nothing.

Kaido blinked. Slowly. His golden eyes narrowed, his heavy brow furrowed. For a long, weighted moment, he just looked at you, the silence stretching.

“Really?” he said, voice rumbling with disbelief more than anger.

The sound of it vibrated through your bones.

You barely had time to draw breath before his hand came down, impossibly large, fingers closing around you like the jaws of a trap. His palm engulfed your chest, his grip spanning from ribs to back with room to spare. He was so huge that lifting you seemed effortless, as if plucking a leaf from the ground.

Your legs kicked, fists pounding against him again, but it was useless. You dangled in his grasp, hauled up so your eyes met the burning gold of his.

Kaido’s grin broke wide, sharp and mocking. “Mine,” he said again, this time almost lazy, as though the entire struggle had been a foregone conclusion.

Behind him, the cliffs loomed, the sky rolled with thunder, and his men shifted uneasily, pretending not to stare at the spectacle of their captain holding you like a toy.

“You smell like you got marinated in mildew and shit,” Kaido rumbled, blunt and cruel.

You screamed, voice tearing raw against the wind. You kicked, heels slamming into his massive forearm, and when that did nothing, you bit him. Hard.

He laughed. A great, booming sound that shook loose pebbles from the cliff face. “Good. Stay mad.”

Then, with the same casual strength he used to swing his kanabo through armies, he slung you against his shoulder and carried you up the slope. To him, you were nothing more than an unruly laundry sack—squirming, fighting, utterly helpless against the breadth of him.

Your fists pounded against his back. You screamed until your throat ached. It only seemed to amuse him more, his laughter rolling like thunder every time you landed another useless blow.

Off to the side, the winged man—King—stood silent, wings folding tighter as he watched. His expression was the very picture of weary inevitability, as though he had predicted this exact scene down to the bat guano. His golden eyes narrowed, already calculating the paperwork, the damage reports, the logistics of explaining to the others why their captain had abandoned all strategy to haul a mud-caked soulmate out of a cave.

-X-

It was natural. Secluded. Steaming.

A hot spring tucked between jagged rocks and clinging pines. Mist rose in soft clouds, curling over the surface, carrying the metallic tang of minerals and the sharp bite of sulfur.

You saw it right before you were thrown in.

The world tilted, and then icy heat swallowed you whole—clothes and all.

You surfaced like a drowned fox, hair plastered to your face, coughing, sputtering, flailing in the water that clung heavy against your sodden clothes. “Are you insane?!”

Kaido knelt at the edge of the rocks, golden eyes fixed on you with a calm that made your skin crawl. His massive frame blocked out the light, steam clinging to his scars and the dark fall of his hair.

“No,” he said simply, voice rolling low. “You’re just filthy.”

Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the water.

The surface hissed and rippled around him as though the spring itself knew better than to resist. His sheer size displaced the pool, waves slapping against the rocks as he waded forward, scars catching in the glow of the morning light. His presence filled the space until there was nowhere for you to retreat.

Steam curled around his shoulders, clung to the edges of his jaw, and still he came closer.

“You stink like caves and shit,” he said, unbothered, blunt as a hammer. “I’ll wash it off you myself if I have to.”

The bond pulsed, searing, as though it approved.

You scrambled backward so fast your heel caught on a submerged stone, sending you crashing into the far side of the spring. Water surged up over your head. You sputtered, gasping, and nearly drowned a second time before dragging yourself upright against the slick rock wall.

Kaido waded closer. He was huge on land. In the water, he was godlike.

His sheer size displaced the spring around him, steam curling up in great clouds, the waves rolling at his thighs as though the mountain itself bent to make space. Scars cut across his chest, old wounds healed into maps of violence. Tattoos sprawled across his arms in jagged black coils, vanishing beneath the water. His hair had come loose, tied back in a rough knot, strands already plastered to his broad shoulders.

You were not a small woman. You had grown used to standing tall, sharp, unyielding in the face of Wano’s cruelty.

But Kaido looked at you as though you were nothing more than a raccoon he had personally fished out of a trash fire. His golden eyes swept over you, unimpressed, equal parts exasperated and amused.

He reached behind him, pulled out a cloth, and, without hurry, brought it to your arm. The scrape of damp fabric against your skin was startling in its gentleness.

You flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. “Don’t touch me.”

Kaido’s gaze did not waver. “You are filthy,” he said, voice low, not mocking but certain. “I will see you clean.”

“I would rather drown,” you spat, eyes burning.

“I will not allow it.”

His words carried the same weight as his footsteps, heavy and immovable, as though the world itself bent around them.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

For a long moment, he only studied you. His golden eyes swept your face as though memorizing every line, every shadow, as if he had been starving for this sight. Then he exhaled slowly, steam curling from his lips.

He cupped a handful of water and let it trail down your back. The warmth slid across your skin, chased away the dirt and ash, and carried something heavier with it.

“Even so. You are mine to look upon.”

You flushed, hot, deep, and discordantly both harassed and pleased.

Then the bond shifted.

It was no longer a distant thrum you could quiet with stone or stubbornness. It rooted, sharp, and unyielding, twining through your chest, threading into your bones.

Connected.

Locked.

Kaido paused, his hand resting on your back, his eyes narrowing slightly as though he, too, felt the change.

He said nothing at first.

He only looked at you—truly looked—as though every scar carved into his body, every fire he had set, every war he had fought, every sea he had crossed had been nothing more than a road leading here, to you.

His breath rolled over the surface of the spring, hot and damp, stirring the steam into shifting veils. His gaze pinned you, steady, unrelenting, and for once, not cruel.

“There you are,” he said softly. The words were rough, gravel dragged through thunder, but they carried something you had never expected from him. Something that frightened you more than fire or claws or teeth.

“My reason to live.”

The bond flared, not with violence, but with weight. Heavy, inescapable, terrible in its certainty.

Your throat closed. The water clung to your skin, scalding now, though the heat came not from the spring but from him. From the truth he had spoken into the bond, rooting deeper, binding tighter.

And Kaido watched you, steam curling up around his shoulders like a crown, his scars catching the light of dawn. His hand stayed where it was, broad and steady, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for you to accept what he already knew.

Your temper flared.

“Do you clean all your prisoners, or am I just particularly offensive to your sensibilities?”

Kaido paused. Met your eyes. His lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite a snarl.

“Only the ones I intend to keep.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, every muscle tight. “Let me be clear. I would rather bathe in a ditch beside a leper colony than accept whatever warped courtship this is meant to be.”

He tilted his head, considering. The scars across his chest caught in the rising light as if the dawn itself wanted to mark him. His golden eyes gleamed.

“You speak prettily,” he said, voice low and faintly amused, “for someone who smells like bats.”

Your mouth curved in a sharp, humorless smile. “And you smell like war crimes and ego,” you replied smoothly, refusing to flinch, “but I was raised to be polite.”

The bond throbbed hot between you, vibrating with his sudden laughter. A low, rolling sound that seemed to shake the very stones beneath the spring.

“You weren’t,” Kaido rumbled, his teeth flashing in the steam. “But keep spitting venom. I like a woman with fangs.”

You swallowed hard, your nails biting crescents into your palms beneath the water. “And what now?” you asked, your voice low but steady. “What comes next, warlord? You drag me from caves, you throw me into springs—what is it you think happens after this?”

His golden eyes locked onto yours. He didn’t hesitate.

“I take you to Onigashima,” he said simply, as if the decision had been carved into stone long before this moment. “You will live there. With me. You’ll marry me, whether the world calls it law or fate; it matters little.”

The steam thickened between you, but his voice cut through it clean, blunt as the edge of his kanabo.

“You’ll be mine. And in return, I will protect you. From threats. From Wano. From anyone who dares to look twice.”

Your throat tightened. “You think I want that?”

Kaido tilted his head, water sliding down the ridges of his scarred shoulders. His grin was terrible in its confidence.

“You will. Because unlike this country, unlike your family, unlike the fools who made you hide in caves—I know exactly who you are.”

The bond pulsed again, heavy, binding, wrapping around your chest until every breath came shallow, ragged. It pressed against your ribs like iron bands, reminding you there was no space left to run.

Kaido’s massive hand lifted, hovering for a long, suspended moment just inches from your face. Then one thick finger hooked beneath your chin, tilting your head up until your gaze locked with his molten gold.

“You’re the softness my cursed existence requires,” he said, low, unshakable, each word dropping like an oath. “And you are the final decision maker on the fate of this entire country.”

The steam coiled tighter around you, the spring crackling faintly with heat as if the land itself recognized the weight of his vow.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. You wanted to look away, but the bond dragged your gaze back, tethering you to him. 

-X- Love’s Fervent Trials -X-

The fortress on Onigashima was still under construction—scaffolding clinging to jagged cliffs, raw stone dragged into walls, rough gates braced against the howl of the sea wind. But even half-built, it already loomed like a beast rising from the ocean’s spine.

Beast banners snapped in the gale, their sigils stark against the gray sky. Armored men marched in formation across the rocky plateau, their shouts carrying over the clang of ironwork. Smoke curled thick into the air—smoke of bonfires, of forge fires, of ambition rising like steam.

Kaido stood at the gates, your slight figure dwarfed beside him. His massive hand pressed firm against your back the entire climb, a weight more binding than chains.

“Take my woman to be dressed as appropriate,” he barked, his voice carrying over the din. His gaze snapped toward the cluster of women waiting on the steps. “Anyone who insults her dies.”

The women bowed quickly, their eyes wide. A few glanced at you, their expressions caught between fear and curiosity.

You looked up at them, brow furrowing, your breath shallow in the charged air. The weight of Kaido’s hand burned through your clothes, but then—finally—he released it.

The absence was immediate. Jarring. Your spine felt cold in the sea wind, exposed after hours of being pressed under his palm.

The women obeyed without hesitation, stepping forward in a cluster. Most kept their eyes low, lips sealed, their silence as sharp as blades. They moved with the nervous efficiency of attendants who understood precisely what was at stake.

All but one.

She stood taller than the rest, towering over them as easily as Kaido towered over you. A giant of a woman, her frame powerful but carried with languid grace. Her long blonde hair caught the sea wind and snapped behind her like a banner.

Unlike the others, she smiled.

“Black Maria,” she said smoothly, her voice low and honeyed, carrying none of the fear the others wore like armor. She bowed her head, just enough to acknowledge you, but not so low that it seemed servile. “You’ll be in my care, lady. Come.”

Her eyes met yours—sharp, amused, glittering with something you couldn’t quite name. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.

Behind you, Kaido’s presence loomed like a storm cloud, silent but unmissable. The bond throbbed once, reminding you whose shadow you stood in.

Black Maria dismissed the others, her hands steady as she tied your robe herself.

“Do you understand what it means, being chosen by him?” she asked quietly. “Kaido does not give his attention. Not to me. Not to anyone. And yet—he brought you here.”

Your throat tightened. “You sound jealous.”

“I am,” she said simply. “But jealousy means nothing. When Kaido claims something, there is no undoing it.”

You exhaled sharply. “Then take it. You can have it.”

Maria’s lips curved, her laugh low and heavy. “That is the one thing no one can take. Not from him. Not even from you.”

Black Maria worked with surprising care for a woman of her size. She rewashed you, brushed the dirt from your skin, rinsed your hair until the strands were clean, then dried them with lengths of soft cloth. When the attendants returned with silks, she waved them away and handled the task herself.

The robes she chose were layered, bright, and delicate, heavy with the scent of new dye and smoke. She settled them across your shoulders with steady hands, adjusting each fold until the lines were sharp and proper. The sash she tied was intricate, a knot meant for women of standing.

By the time she stepped back, you no longer looked like a fugitive dragged from a cave. You looked like the lady you were.

Maria’s eyes swept over her work, her expression unreadable. “Now you look the part,” she said finally. “The woman at Kaido’s side.”

You turned toward the tall lacquered mirror propped against the wall.

The reflection that met you was both familiar and foreign. The robes were proper, with rich and heavy fabric. Your hair had been combed and pinned into the old court style, each ornament gleaming faintly in the torchlight. Your face was clean, pale, with no sign of dirt or ash.

For a heartbeat, you saw her again—the lady Kurozumi. The woman you had been before.

No.

Not anymore.

Now Kaido’s lady, for whatever that meant. Perhaps, if you were canny, even some good.

Your hands tightened against your sides. Your back straightened.

Maria led you through the unfinished fortress, her long stride forcing you to keep pace. The strange men you passed, hulking Beast Pirates with horns, fangs, and scars, paused as you walked by. Their voices lowered, their gazes sharp, as if unsure whether to bow or jeer. None dared speak.

Maria guided you to the throne room and then left without ceremony, the sound of her steps fading into the scaffolding and stone.

You stood alone.

The high hall was skeletal, its beams half-set, the smell of sawdust and smoke still clinging to the walls. But even incomplete, it had the gravity of a place meant for rulership. Banners of the Beast Pirates snapped in the sea wind that howled through unfinished gaps, their snarling emblems stark against the pale dawn light.

You stood straight in the center of it, every strand of hair in its place, not a thread astray. The silk clung heavily to your body, a symbol louder than any voice.

The silk of your kimono shimmered not with muted mourning, but with bright, unmarred color. New silk, thick and heavy, the dyes rich and bold. The folds gleamed like polished lacquer, the sash tied in a knot more intricate than any you had worn before.

It was no ordinary garment.

The weight of it was heavy, a declaration sewn into every stitch. You could feel it in the way the sleeves trailed like banners, in the way the light caught on the fresh embroidery, in the way your hair had been combed and pinned with gleaming ornaments that would once have been worn only before an altar.

Kaido’s voice behind you startled you. You turned. He stood at the base of the dais, but his sheer size put you eye to eye.

“You look like a Wano princess.” It came out raw, a confession spoken like a vow.

“Good evening,” you said, adjusting your sleeves with deliberate calm. “I assume we’re here to discuss something important.”

He stepped closer, boots silent against the unfinished stone. The torchlight caught on the curve of his scars, the edge of his jaw, the molten glint in his eyes. He had changed as well, but remained simple in his dress, just as he was in personality.

“I would conquer another kingdom for you.”

You inclined your head, graceful and unshaken, as though he had only remarked on your robes. “So tell me. What are the functions of this marital agreement? I doubt it is a traditional Wano bride price or dowry.”

Kaido’s eyes narrowed, heat flashing gold. “No. Not dowry. Not price.”

He lifted a hand, not quite touching you, but near enough that the air itself grew heavy and hot. You felt the bond tighten, eager, as if it wanted to drag you into him. His gaze swept your face like he was memorizing it, like every detail was a treasure.

“You are mine,” he said, low and rough. “This marriage is blood, throne, bond, all in one. Wano bends if you stand beside me. And I…” His grin twisted sharply. “…I bend for nothing else.”

You tilted your chin, keeping your voice even. “I see. Then let us begin with terms. If this is meant to be a union, I expect clarity, not riddles.”

The bond pulsed hot, and Kaido let out a low, rumbling laugh, somewhere between hunger and admiration.

“You talk of terms while you look like this,” he muttered, his voice rough as stone dragged across steel. “I am about to be fleeced by you, aren’t I, my cold moon.”

You did not flinch. You adjusted the fall of your sleeve, eyes steady on his. “I don’t want the destruction of Wano.”

Kaido’s smile faded, though the heat in his gaze did not. He straightened, broad shoulders filling the hall, and the torchlight made the scars across his chest burn like old brands.

“Destruction is what wakes the world,” he said, his tone deep, steady. “Old orders die. Strong ones rise. Wano has been silent too long, rotting under weak men. I will burn the silence away.”

He took another step, and the bond surged, trying to drag your breath with his. “And you, little moon, will stand with me while it burns. With your name, your blood, your bond.”

You lifted your chin. “I will not be the excuse for your conquest. I may not like much of Wano, but it deserves better than my family. Orochi will be a pathetic Daimyo.”

“You’ll make a man jealous talking about other men looking that pretty,” he said, pettily, golden eyes narrowing.

For a moment, you thought he might storm from the hall, leave you standing in the silence of your silks. But instead, Kaido moved.

He dragged a flat-topped boulder from near the steps with one hand, stone grating across stone, and sat before you. His arms braced over his knees, his enormous frame hunched like a beast halfway through deciding whether it would eat or listen.

The hall seemed smaller with him like that, massive and scarred, his presence pressing against you more than the walls themselves.

The bond between you twitched like a splinter under the skin. Alive. Irritated. Unavoidable.

Kaido’s eyes locked on yours, steady, unblinking. “So tell me,” he rumbled, his voice low, rough with the effort of patience. “If not conquest, then what? What does my little moon want for Wano?”

The weight of the question sat heavily in the space between you.

“Go to Kozuki Oden and make an alliance.”

Kaido leaned forward, cracking his knuckles slowly. The sound carried like thunder across the beams of the half-finished hall.

“Is this your request, my moon?”

“It is. An attempt must be made for stability.” Your voice was smooth, each word honed like silk cutting glass. “If you’re wise, you’ll listen. You won’t enjoy fighting Oden and his men. They are beasts.”

Kaido stood suddenly, the motion sharp, hulking. His shadow split the terrace, swallowing stone and light alike.

You rose too, unhurried, your movements measured and precise, like a blade leaving its sheath.

“A beast,” Kaido said, his voice low, vibrating with menace. “Like me?”

“More so,” you answered without pause. “You seem actually to listen to common sense, on occasion.”

Kaido’s gaze locked on yours, molten gold against calm defiance. The air between you thickened, alive with heat and restraint.

He smirked, sharp and crooked. “Was that a compliment? From you?”

The bond flared hot, unbidden, a spark that made your breath catch for the briefest instant.

“Do it.” You conceded, voice sharp but steady. “And I’ll align with you, support you, and do what I must if you try. Marry you without a fight. No matter where it lands my head.”

You met his gaze, chin high, refusing to falter.

Kaido eased back, massive frame folding as he rested his head on his hands. He studied you with that burning focus, unblinking, as though the hall itself had gone silent.

“Say it again,” he said at last, low and deliberate. “The part where you say you’ll marry me.”

You pressed a finger to the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes for half a breath. The word tasted like ash, bitter and unwanted.

“If you call off your warpath and do not harm Wano, I will marry you.” Your throat tightened. “Mostly willingly.”

The bond pulsed, binding the words as though they had weight beyond sound.

Kaido exhaled slowly, steam curling from his nose, thick and hot. His lips pulled into something sharp, something terrible, but the joy in it was unmistakable.

He was happy.

“Oh? And what do I get?” Kaido leaned forward with a grin, golden eyes glinting. “I could just make you, you know.”

That shit.

You gave him a look sharp enough to flay flesh.

“Me, you ass.” You rattled it off, smooth and biting. “A royal consort with influence across every noble house. Public legitimacy. The stabilizing support of a woman, half the country already fears, and the other half secretly admires. I’ll wear your crest and speak your name, and they’ll all bow because I did it first.”

A pause.

“And I’ll stop cussing you through the bond.”

That did it. The corner of his mouth ticked upward, a fang flashing as he tried and failed to keep the grin down.

“Hah. You’re telling me,” Kaido rumbled, “Besides you, I get nothing but more work, and you pouting in my head every time I get upset and want to kill? Sounds like robbery in your favor.”

“Perhaps.”

“So you admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” you said flatly. “You’re a headache I haven’t yet figured out how to cure, so a lifetime of me dealing with you, helping you, withstanding your mind, warrants a great sacrifice on your end.”

Kaido’s grin widened, teeth glinting in the torchlight. “A lifetime, eh? You sound so sure you’ll last that long with me.”

You lifted your chin. “I’ve survived worse.”

Kaido’s boots scraped against the stone as he shifted closer, the chains at his hip clinking with the movement. His shadow fell across you, broad and heavy, the air thick with the smell of smoke and steel.

“Will warming my bed be so bad?” His voice dropped, rough as gravel, threaded with dark amusement. “I promise to be exceptionally generous with you.”

You glared, lips curling. “Don’t get fresh with me, you overgrown lizard.”

His laugh rolled out, deep and delighted, echoing off the beams of the hall. “And yet, you still offered to wed this lizard.”

“Yes,” you said firmly, your gaze unyielding. “For a price.”

The bond pulsed, searing between you at the word.

Kaido’s grin turned sharper, his eyes gleaming gold in the torchlight. He leaned in just enough for the air between you to thicken with heat.

“I’ll ruin you so sweetly you’ll never forget whose bed you share,” he rumbled, voice low and rough, carrying the weight of both promise and threat.

Your breath hitched, but your expression did not falter. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“You should absolutely be locked up.”

Kaido’s laugh cracked the silence, deep and rolling, vibrating through the beams above. “They’ve tried. Never doubt the thunder serpent, little moon.”

-X-The Climax-X-

And so that day, you married Kaido.

It was not in a shrine, nor before priests, nor with the blessings of gods. It was in his unfinished fortress on Onigashima, stone walls half-set, smoke and sea wind curling through the gaps. The Kurozumi clan gathered in their dark silks, faces pale and eager, as if they could already taste the power restored to their name.

Semimaru, ancient and stern, took the duty upon himself. His hands shook with age, but his voice carried firm as he poured the sake, as he knotted the silk cord that bound your wrist to Kaido’s. The weight of it dragged hot through the bond, a tether made both real and inescapable.

Kaido stood tall beside you, scarred chest bare, his golden eyes fixed on you with a hunger that had nothing to do with the ceremony. When the sake cup touched your lips, he drank first, then tilted it to you with a grin sharp enough to draw blood.

The Kurozumi cheered. The Beast Pirates roared.

And you, bound by silk, by sake, and by a vow you had forced into terms, stood straight and still, your back unyielding even as the world shifted around you.

You were no longer Lady Kurozumi. 

Thank god for that.

You were Kaido’s wife. A lesser-known benefit, but with certain advantages. The people of Wano now had a good reason to hate you.

The aftermath was a blur of sound and firelight. The Kurozumi toasted themselves drunk, their voices shrill with triumph. The Beast Pirates bellowed, their cups overflowing, their laughter shaking the scaffolding beams. Smoke from the feast fires filled the air, thick with roasting meat and spilled sake.

You endured it with a still face, your hand bound to Kaido’s, your mind counting every second until the silk was untied. Every cheer, every bow, every pair of eyes reminded you of the bargain you had struck and the price you had named.

When the night deepened, Kaido rose.

The hall fell quiet, the silence rippling outward like a stone cast into water. His shadow stretched long across the firelit floor, and his hand closed around yours, iron and inescapable.

“Enough noise,” he said, his voice rolling over the crowd like thunder. “My wife comes with me.”

No one dared speak. No one dared laugh.

No one, save one.

A booming voice broke through the silence, a drawl of drunken mischief. Queen, massive and broad, let out a cat-call that rattled the rafters.

It lasted less than a heartbeat.

A heavy smack rang out, delivered by Kaido’s right hand, King. The winged man’s glare cut sharper than any blade, and Queen’s laughter died in his throat. The crowd shifted, silent once more.

Kaido tugged you forward. You followed, because what else was there to do?

He led you through unfinished corridors that smelled of stone and salt, the distant echoes of revelry dimming with every step. The torches guttered in their sconces, their light bending and wavering as if they, too, knew better than to resist him.

He pushed open a heavy iron-banded door with one hand, dragging you inside.

The chamber was rough but vast, carved straight from the cliff-face. Heavy furs covered the walls and floors, muffling the chill, while weapons rested in crude racks against the stone. A brazier glowed hot at the center, its light throwing shadows across the room like beasts pacing in a cage.

Kaido shut the door with his boot, the sound echoing like a final seal, cutting off the world behind you.

He turned then, slow and deliberate, golden eyes catching the firelight. They burned through the dim, heavy with intent, with hunger, with the bond that thrummed like a living thing between you.

“Do you wish to bathe? Or perhaps a drink?”

You blinked at him, startled by the question’s simplicity.

“Why?”

He stared back at you, unflinching.

“To relax you,” he said at last, his voice low, gravel dragged across steel. His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. “I have… methods. You are taller than the average woman, but I don’t want you in pain.”

The brazier hissed as sparks leapt, shadows stretching long across the chamber. His words settled heavy between you, half-promise, half-threat, all Kaido.

You stared at him.

“Are you insinuating… that you intend for us to… copulate?” you asked slowly, just to be sure.

He nodded once, utterly matter-of-fact.

“When people marry, they usually copulate.” His voice pitched higher for a moment, disbelief rough in his throat, before dropping flat at the end.

You took a step back, silks rustling like warning bells.

“Oh—oh no—I… I assumed this union was more… symbolic. You know. For the sake of your campaign.”

Kaido’s eyes slid toward you, one brow rising, his golden gaze narrowing with slow incredulity.

“Symbolic?” he repeated, the word curling from his mouth like smoke.

The bond pulsed hot, as if amused on his behalf.

“Yes, well.” You blushed, gesturing vaguely in his direction. “Given your whole… situation.”

“My situation?” His brow furrowed.

“You’re enormous,” you said, flatly. “No offense.”

He stared.

You offered a prim little shrug, mouth tilting in dry amusement. “I thought it was a political bond—an agreement of public unity. Not, you know. A real marriage.”

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the hiss of the brazier.

Kaido shifted. The floor creaked under his weight as he rose to his full height, shadow filling the room. The firelight carved harsh lines across his jaw, his eyes gleaming molten. For once, there was no smirk, no chuckle, no teasing edge.

“I am not a man who does things halfway.” His voice was low, steady, unflinching. 

The bond throbbed hot, binding those words to you like iron.

You frowned, caught off guard by the shift in tone.

He stepped closer, shadows bending with his size.

“When I say ‘marriage,’ I mean it. When I take a wife, it’s mine. In name, in home, and in bed.”

Your blood turned cold.

“I—I see,” you said, the words rushing out a bit too fast.

Kaido loomed, his presence swallowing the brazier’s glow, testing your every reaction. “Is that a problem, my wife?”

You stared up at him, spine stiff, voice like porcelain.

You had fought off suitors with silver tongues, outmaneuvered spies armed with blades, and dodged bounty hunters in dark alleys. You had lived in a cave for two days, eating nothing but pickled daikon and stolen festival mochi. You had stood in front of Kaido without flinching, insulting his intelligence, mocking his horns, and calling him a fire-breathing ox with father issues.

But none of that had prepared you for this.

Standing in his quarters, your mind looping a single horrifying question.

How. The hell. Does he think this is going to work?

You tapped your finger against your chin, then stabbed it into the flesh with unnecessary force. No clarity came.

The problem wasn’t theoretical. It was very, very literal.

Kaido was four times your size. All muscle. With the grace of a falling boulder and the subtlety of a war horn. You’d seen him crush cannonballs in his palm like dumplings. He cracked floorboards just by walking near you. When he had tried to “gently” brush a strand of hair from your shoulder, you’d had whiplash for an hour.

And he wanted to have sex? 

With you?

Biologically speaking, you were not convinced you wouldn’t die.

You stared at the wall.

Then stared harder.

Then whispered, very softly, “What in the divine name of the Shogun’s left sandal does he think he’s going to do, fold me in half like a rice ball?”

Kaido caught you before you could bolt—absurdly gentle, his fingers closing around your wrist like a steel bracelet. Not squeezing. Not dragging. Just… anchoring.

“We’re having a conversation,” he said, voice low, immovable.

“No,” you shot back, turning on your heel in defiance. “We’re not. You are actively planning on tearing me in two.”

“Then we need to talk more.”

“About what? My structural integrity?”

“About your anxiety,” he said, with the gall of a man whose mere existence caused anxiety.

You stared at him. “Anxiety?”

“You think I’m gonna break you.”

You blinked.

He stared back.

You blinked again.

He sighed. Loudly. Then scooped you up like a wayward cat and carried you to his bed while you smacked him with your sleeves.

“Put me down.”

“You weigh less than one of my bicep curls.”

“I will BITE you—”

“You’ll break your teeth.”

“Better my teeth than my pelvis!"

“You’re afraid of sleeping with me.”

“I’m afraid of dying from sleeping with you,” you corrected.

He grunted. “I’m not gonna break you.”

“Says the man who left literal claw marks on the floor of his throne room.”

He snorted. “That was unrelated.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Everything about you is related.”

A silence stretched between you. You folded your arms tightly across your chest. He exhaled.

“…You do know,” Kaido began, tone shifting to something strangely informative, “that…power… haki has uses outside of battle.”

“Oh god,” you whispered.

“Armament can be used to reinforce. Internally.”

“I’m going to jump off the roof.”

“You can handle it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he said pointedly. “You’re my soulbond.”

“That is not a scientific statement—”

He stepped closer. You backed up until your spine hit the edge of the low table.

“Listen, you bone-brained ox—”

“I wouldn’t touch you if I didn’t know you could take it.”

You flushed from the collar to the scalp. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”

Kaido tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing as though he were genuinely confused. “Yes.”

Your hands flew up. “It is not.”

He smirked, slow and crooked. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

A beat.

Then, to your horror, Kaido leaned down slightly and asked, “Did no one ever tell you about the old tonic?”

You froze. “I’m sorry—the what—”

“The one your relatives shoved at me three hours ago,” he said, as if discussing the weather. “Polite little request not to break you. Some old Kurozumi recipe. Alcohol, crushed ice root, powdered kelp from a volcanic spring. Supposed to ‘ease the passage of destiny,’ or some shit.”

You gawked. “You drank it?”

Kaido shrugged, broad shoulders rolling like mountains shifting. “Whole thing tastes like hell, but supposedly works. Not poisonous, or it would have upset something.”

You slapped both hands over your face. “Oh divine heavens above—my great-aunt brewed you a sex potion?”

“She brewed us one.”

You reeled, flinging your hands down. “You are not feeding me volcano kelp—”

Kaido straightened to his full height, arms folding over his chest. His scars caught the brazier’s glow, his grin all teeth. “You’re gonna have to be an adult about this to properly bear my children.”

You took a very deep, steadying breath, trembling with emotion.

And screamed.

The worst part wasn’t the volcano crack medicine. The worst part wasn’t that he had the recipe memorized. The worst part wasn’t even that he’d drunk it first just to check for poison.

No.

The worst part was that Kaido, as it turned out, knew exactly what he was doing.

He sat you squarely on his lap, one massive hand steady at your hip, the other holding the suspicious cup of definitely poison. Barefoot, shirt askew, hair loose, tattoos burning faintly with heat—he looked like a dragon pretending to play house.

“Drink,” Kaido rumbled, “or I’ll pry your jaw open.”

You glared up at him as he chuckled, teeth flashing.

Then you did the logical thing. You lunged for his finger, trying to bite.

Kaido didn’t flinch. He only laughed louder, and in that split second of triumph, he used your own momentum against you—thick fingers wedging your jaw open with insulting ease. Before you could snap your teeth shut, the cup tipped.

The liquid hit your tongue.

It tasted like ash, rotten seaweed, and bad decisions distilled into one horrifying gulp.

You gagged. Coughed. Tried to spit it back at him.

Kaido just held you firm, the sound of his rough laughter vibrating straight through his chest into your back.

When you finally swallowed out of sheer survival instinct, you froze, wide-eyed.

You weren’t dead.

“See?” he rumbled, smug as sin. “Not poison.”

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve, glaring daggers.

He hummed, releasing you, and shifted to the back of the bed. Dropping down with a weight that made the furs sigh, Kaido crossed his arms and legs with the casual ease of someone who owned the room, the fortress, and probably the sky above it.

An easy retreat.

It surprised you.

“What?” you asked, half suspicious, half dazed, tugging your robes into order as though they could shield you. “Am I free to go now?”

Kaido tilted his head. The firelight gleamed off his scars, caught in the lazy fall of his hair. He chuckled warmly, not at all draconic. Almost human. Almost smug, but not cruel.

“If you wish,” he said.

Kaido leaned back on one hand, the lines of his body long and lethal, golden from oil, and obscene in their ease. Firelight caught on his scars, his tattoos, the heavy curve of muscle across his chest. His gaze fixed on you, unhurried, molten.

Then he spoke, tone low and almost gentle—

“You’re beautiful when you’re screaming at me.”

Your spine straightened so fast you nearly snapped in half. “Excuse you—”

“You don’t even realize, do you?” He chuckled, crossing his legs.

“Realize what, exactly—” you said sharply.

“How soft you look right now.”

You froze, every inch of you rigid as the words sank like molten iron into your chest.

Kaido didn’t move. But his gaze raked over you with such deliberate, assessing heat that your skin prickled, your pulse stumbled. Slow, steady, inevitable, like a storm rolling in.

The bond pulsed, hot and treacherous, echoing his hunger. Your stomach twisted with it, dragging out a hidden ache you hadn’t even known you possessed.

You blushed.

Bright red. All over. Like some inexperienced debutante from the lesser provinces.

He saw it immediately, and his grin deepened, cocky and pleased and entirely too aware of what he’d done.

You panicked.

“I—this is—you’re—what the hell is happening right now—”

Kaido arched a brow, voice low and certain. “You’re attracted to me.”

You moved so fast you hit the table with your hip, nearly knocking over the wine jug. “I AM NOT—”

“You are.”

You jabbed a finger at him. “You’re imagining things.”

He leaned back further on one hand, relaxed as a king on his throne, grin wide enough to bare fangs. “I don’t imagine. I observe.”

“I’m under the influence—”

“The tonic is not alcohol or an aphrodisiac,” Kaido rumbled, tone flat, assured. “It merely magnifies the body’s capabilities and gently unwinds the mind of its worries.”

You pointed at him like he’d grown a second set of horns. “That is the definition of an aphrodisiac. This is toxic seduction.”

“This is a truth you’ve been avoiding.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. Then, with deliberate ease, he tugged his shirt off, the fabric sliding over his shoulders.

You gawked. Gawked. Like a Wano fishwife seeing a sea king breach for the first time.

Scars like claw marks crisscrossed his chest, inked dragons winding between them as though even his wounds had been claimed by fire. Heat shimmered faintly over his skin, rising from the tattoos like they were alive. His sheer size filled the chamber, impossible to ignore.

You scrambled.

“This is illegal,” you hissed. “This is a crime. You’re committing a crime.”

“Where?” Kaido asked, far too calmly. “This is my island.”

You made a high-pitched sound of pure distress and betrayal, shuffling backward across the furs like he was about to pounce.

But he didn’t.

“You’re a beast—”

He only leaned in, his massive frame tilting toward you, golden eyes gleaming in the firelight. His voice dropped low, almost intimate.

“Do you want me to be one?”

Your brain short-circuited.

You dropped your sleeve.

You made eye contact.

The bond pulsed hot, treacherous, as if savoring your hesitation.

And then, without waiting for a response, he kissed you.

There was nothing hesitant about it. No pause, no question. His mouth crushed against yours with the force of a man who took what he wanted, who had crossed oceans and toppled kingdoms and saw no difference between them and you.

Heat seared through you, immediate and overwhelming. The bond flared so violently it rattled your bones, pulling you tight into the sensation until you couldn’t tell if you were breathing for yourself or through him.

His hand, massive and hot, cradled the back of your head as though you were something fragile, even as the kiss itself was anything but. He tasted of sake and smoke, of storms caught at sea, of a power you had mocked and feared and—gods help you—felt curl around you like chains.

You shoved at his chest, trying to break the weight of it, but he only drew back slightly, fangs grazing your lower lip.

The kiss was ruinous. All teeth, growls, breathless tension snapping like coiled steel. It filled you with heat so fierce, so wild, you were pretty sure it had just deflowered you by sheer force of will.

And when he finally parted, you knew you’d never recover.

Kaido’s voice dropped, rough and molten, every word dragging heat down your spine.

“Finally. You’re mine. You don’t even know what I could do to you like this. Folded up on the floor, all soft and tired… you’re practically begging to be worshipped.”

Your eyes rolled back, traitorous with pleasure, the bond pulsing in rhythm with his words.

“I could make the sea shudder beneath us,” he growled. “Lay you out like an offering. Tie your wrists with iron. Kneel between your thighs and—”

The bond surged so violently your knees nearly buckled, his hunger threading through you like fire through dry wood. You gasped, dragging air into your lungs, desperate for a foothold of sense.

“Kaido—” your voice broke, caught between fury and surrender.

He only leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, fangs grazing against tender skin.

When his hand slid lower, you shoved him, hard, palms braced against the iron wall of his chest.

He laughed. A low, rolling sound that filled the chamber, rumbling deep enough to make the brazier flames shiver.

Then his hands caught yours. They were massive, hot, but strangely careful. He held your wrists like they were relics, fragile treasures, the silk of your sleeves crushed between his fingers.

And before you could spit another word, before you could wrestle free, his mouth was on yours again.

This kiss was hungrier, hot in a new way. He kissed you as if he had been starving for centuries, and you were the only thing that could sustain him. Every growl spilled heat into your chest. Every press of his lips demanded more.

The bond pulsed in rhythm, relentless, treacherous, dragging you deeper into him as though it too had been waiting.

Somewhere between “you bastard” and “this was a mistake,” your hand found one of the massive horns curving from his head. You grabbed the base of it, desperate for balance.

Kaido made a sound.

Low. Guttural. Damning.

He stills.

You froze, unsure what had just happened. Your eyes lock, molten gold against wide disbelief.

“…Oh?” His voice came out molten, threaded with dark amusement. “I suppose that’s something we get to discover together.”

His fingers slid into your hair, curling, tugging just enough to tip your head back. With slow inevitability, he guided you down into the furs.

Heat radiated from him as he pressed closer, forcing your knees apart until he filled the space between them, his breath hot on your skin. His mouth trailed down, rough and unrelenting, leaving marks along the curve of your thighs—each one a claim, a promise, a warning.

By the time he settled fully between your knees, your pulse thundered so loud you could barely hear your own ragged breath.

The bond throbbed, triumphant.

His eyes flicked up, molten gold catching the firelight.

“Hold on.”

Kaido didn’t rush. He was methodical, cruelly reverent, as though he had waited forever and now intended to make good on every filthy promise whispered across your nights.

Clothes vanished. Logic died.

When he finally was atop you, things did fit—albeit with some workshopping, adjustments that left you breathless, clawing for sense even as the bond pulled tighter and tighter.

You didn’t remember how you ended up sprawled on the furs of his bed. You only knew you came: hard, loud, possessed. Maybe twice. (Definitely four times.)

By the end, you were sore. Raw. Delirious.

Kaido lay beside you like a god finally sated, heat still radiating from his scarred skin, the dragon ink across his chest seeming to pulse faintly with the warmth of his body. One massive hand stayed tangled lazily in your hair, stroking once, twice, possessive even in repose.

“Very well done, my moon.” His voice purred, low and smug, rumbling like distant thunder through the furs. His grin was sharp, fanged, unbearable. “You may just be a witch.”

The bond pulsed at those words, sealing the claim like a brand burned into your soul.

You shut your eyes, chest rising and falling unevenly. Gods above and below—you had survived him, and even enjoyed it.

You didn’t verbally respond. You couldn’t.

Because Kaido was already wrapping one massive arm around your waist, dragging you in like a pillow he refused to share. The furs shifted as he pulled the covers over you with surprising care, muttering into your hair, voice thick with sake and satisfaction.

“My bed. My mate now. Try to escape, and I’ll eat the island.”

Your lips parted in shock, but no sound came. You were too tired. Too wrung out. Too ruined.

Also, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t be walking anytime soon.

-X-Honeymoon-X-

Five months later, you were rounding; pregnant, and grouchy.

Onigashima was no longer just scaffolding and smoke. Its fortress walls had begun to stand tall, bristling with new gates and watchtowers. Beast Pirate banners snapped from every height, and the clang of forges carried day and night. The air smelled of iron, fire, and ambition. The place was a war machine in the making.

And Kaido, to the great surprise of everyone, had not yet unleashed it on Wano. He drank less, fought less, and devoted most of his energy to circling you. To the pirates, it looked like their captain had gone half-mad, tethered to a single woman. To you, it felt like being shadowed by a thundercloud that refused to rain.

You were tired, your ankles swollen, your patience worn thin. And Kaido was insufferable.

Which meant you needled him whenever you could. Mostly when he followed you like a lapdog around his stronghold.

“Orochi is still prancing around the Flower Capital pretending he’s important,” you said one morning, adjusting the layers of silk that never seemed to sit comfortably anymore. “You promised me restraint, not indulgence.”

Kaido scowled, leaning down so close his breath steamed against your cheek. “Focus on your pregnancy.”

“Focus on your sense of dignity,” you snapped, eyeing his pants. “I can’t fit you when I’m struggling to carry your monster child.”

He growled. You swatted his wandering hand.

The bond pulsed, hot and undeniable.

It was unbearable, really. Kaido was unbearably needy, so much so that half the fortress had quietly started inventing excuses to leave whenever you and he were in the same room too long.

King, standing nearby with his wings folded tightly, looked as though he might just fly off and join a new crew. “Captain, if you don’t want mutiny, you’ll stop bickering with your wife in front of the men.”

Queen nearly fell off his stool laughing, slapping his thigh with both meaty hands. “Oh, I like his wife. Finally, someone who talks back to the captain. Hah!”

Kaido ignored them both, eyes fixed on you with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

“Relax more, my moon. I promised you peace and leisure. All you have to do is ignore everything else.”

You pouted, lips pursed, and his heart thundered at the sight.

“I am trying to ignore the thing that stresses me out.” You looked at him pointedly, and he grinned.

With a low rumble, Kaido redirected you away from the pirates, steering you gently but firmly back toward your chambers. His touch was guiding, possessive, impossible to argue with.

“I’ll go and deal with him,” Kaido muttered, meaning Orochi, “but only if you sit in my bed and rest. And continue being beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes. “And round as a plum.”

“Sweet as one too.” His grin turned wicked. “Last time I was between your pretty legs, I tasted it.”

You flushed so hot your ears burned. “Don’t say things like that.”

Kaido leaned down, golden eyes gleaming, fangs flashing just for you. “Why not? It’s the truth.”

The bond pulsed, treacherous and warm, as if echoing his shameless certainty.

Kaido’s grin widened as he nudged you further along the corridor. “Go quietly and incubate the next princess of Wano.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, turned, and jabbed a finger at his chest. “It’s a boy.”

He rolled his eyes, as if you were the unreasonable one. “Tch. The scent is for a girl.”

“It is a boy,” you insisted, voice sharp.

Kaido bent low, golden eyes narrowing, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “My moon, if I tell you it is a girl, it is a girl.”

“And if I tell you it is a boy, it is a boy. And he’s going to be named Yamato like my dad.”

The bond pulsed hot between you, sparks crackling in the tension. Neither of you gave an inch.

In the end, Kaido huffed and scooped you up without warning. You squealed, smacked his shoulder, but he carried you into your chambers all the same. He set you firmly on his massive bed, then stepped back, arms crossing over his chest.

He stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. Just looking at you. Admiring. Claiming.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and unshakably serious.

“If anything ever happened to you, I’d burn Wano to the ground.”

The bond pulsed so heavily your chest ached.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “That’s not love, Kaido. That’s destruction.”

His golden eyes narrowed, steady and merciless. “It is both. You are mine. And the world will respect that, or it will burn.”

You hugged your arms around your middle, glaring at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

Kaido’s lips curved, not into a grin but something sharper, hungrier. “And you’re my impossible. That makes you untouchable.”

And then he kissed you, as if it assured it.

Cosmic Joke Status: Kaiju-Grilled

Congratulations! You’re now shackled to a Yonko who kicks down doors instead of knocking, drinks enough to drown an army, and would absolutely set Wano ablaze just because someone dared to look at you twice.

And the worst part?

You’re secretly like it.

(Especially the part where his growl rattles through the floorboards when some idiot flirts with you—like a half-drunk, half-god dragon deciding if the entire country deserves to live another day.)

-X-The End-X-

Taglist:

@thatbitchwhobakes @sl33pyskies @0sunnyside01 @nightlove1369 @sam-aint-here@xxxblackrosexxx @animaniacslover926 @riftmage27 @freg-freg @duck-a-doodle @grejfrut @radiantnico @crystalclearskull @secondaryjobb @phantasmagoricalzenith @sleepyjude @enzotherocket @justanotherweeb666

[kateksmallcuteowl]

Day 1: Telepathic bond

Just a piece here, because I’m scared to post nsfw on tumblr. Link to Ao3 with full version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66126709/chapters/170417935

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66126709/chapters/170417935

[hbyrde36]

Written for @augustjustice and the @strangerthingswritersguild daily prompt: Telepathic Bond

Happy (belated) Birthday!

Crossed Wires & Shared Frequencies

Gen | WC: 829 | AO3

Steve's bat bites burned under the haphazard bandage Nancy had cinched around his waist. He looked down at the thin strip of fabric, the only thing staunching the blood flow, and wondered if he'd ever catch a break.

And then a bundle of denim, soaked with sweat and lake water, hit him square in the face.

"For your modestly, dude."

He caught it out of instinct, glancing up to see Eddie giving him a slow once-over. His eyes snagging on Steve's chest, darkening briefly, before darting over to to Nancy and back again. Then he turned away entirely, as if he was suddenly very interested in Robin's ongoing rabies commentary.

What the hell was that all about?

Robin's reply came drifting through his mind a second later. Maybe the guy's just squeamish around blood?

Steve gave a mental hum of agreement but couldn't stop thinking about the way Eddie had looked at him—lingering, wanting—the way he'd glanced at Nancy like he thought he'd interrupted something. Like maybe he'd wanted to interrupt something.

That wasn't the gaze of someone who had a problem with blood. That was the look of jealousy.

Robin's head swivelled from across the clearing, mouth twitching. Not everyone wants to bone you, Dingus.

Steve shrugged.

Later, as they trudged through the creepy woods, Steve's eyes kept sliding back to Eddie. Objectively speaking, he was a good looking guy. A total nerd with almost no ass to speak of—flat as a pond on a windless day, as Steve's gramps would've said—and yet, he had this swagger to him. The way his ripped jeans clung to his legs, the casual roll of his hips as he stepped over vines and roots. His hair was a wild halo of curls, bouncing with every step, a few shorter strands brushing the sharp line of his jaw.

Steve's mind wandered dangerously, wondering what it would feel like to grip those lean hips, tug that leather jacket off his shoulders, see if Eddie could still smirk with his mouth otherwise occupied.

He swallowed hard. God, he’s a good-looking guy. If I were gay, I’d already be halfway gone. Shame I’m straight. Seems like he'd be more fun on a date than any of the girls i've been out with lately.

Robin barked a laugh beside him, loud enough that Nancy whipped around to shush her

“What?” Steve hissed quietly, shooting Robin a look.

Dude, her voice sang in his head, amused and merciless as always. You have thoughts like that and you still think you're straight?

“Sure,” Steve muttered under his breath, not bothering to hide the conversation. He was still getting used to this whole being able to read each other's minds thing. Fucking Russians and their experimental truth serum. “Everybody finds some members of the opposite sex attractive. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Steve. Robin thought flatly, staring daggers into the side of his head. I can promise you, I have never once been attracted to a man.

"What?" Steve scoffed. “That can’t be true. Sure you have. Just… not as much as girls—right?”

She shook head solemnly.

“Wait. So does that mean I am—" The word stayed silent, but heavy in Steve's head.

Gay?

His brain shorted out, and he stumbled on a branch. "B=but—what about all the girls I’ve dated?”

Robin stopped dead, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow. You mean your failed string of tragic dates?

Steve narrowed his eyes sharp as he could manage.

She only grinned. You know bisexual is a thing, right, Casanova?

“Obviously,” he huffed back. “But wouldn’t I—like—know? If I was…"

Bisexual?

Robin threw her hands in the air, projecting her thoughts so loudly it made him wince. Steve Harrington, you literally just admired Eddie Munson’s non-existent 'swagger' and called him hot—literally wished you could date him, all while wearing his vest. If that’s not bisexual, I don’t know what is.

Steve opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked up to where Eddie was walking just a few paces behind Nancy. His hair was still wet from the lake and plastered to his cheeks, the shirt riding under his jacket clinging to him like a second skin. He looked like a drowned rat who'd still manage to charm scraps of cheese out of your hand. Cute. Infuriatingly, dangerously, cute.

"Oh," he breathed.

Oh.

“Go on, then. Catch up with your future boyfriend before he gets himself eaten by a Demogorgon.” Robin gave him a gentle shove, then took off to join Nancy up ahead.

She really was the best wingman a guy could ask for.

Steve smiled despite himself, and the dire circumstances they found themselves in. He ran a useless hand through his hair, straightened the vest so it sat just right on his shoulder, and set off at a light jog towards Eddie, trying very hard not to look like a man who's just had an epiphany about his own sexuality.

Thanks to @beingmissbatty for giving this a read for me on absolutely NO notice. You're a gem 💜

Permanent taglist (open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @sidekick-hero @firefly-party

@bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1

@rocknrollsalad @eternal-sunflowers @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething

@theintrovertedintrovert

[casien]

Shackled In Shadow Part VII - The Inspection

WARNING: This chapter is DARK. TW: Sexual assault. MDNI.

This was the hardest thing I've ever had to write, and I kinda dissociated during the writing process. For me to write something like this happening to a character I love so much makes me feel like I just kicked a puppy.

Although it had to be done. Mairon and Mírië were stuck in a bubble, knowing they had to get out of Angband, but not actually doing anything about it! Reality had to give em a kick up the arse!

No further comfort remained to be found in that cell. No softness could be trusted. No illusion could make a home inside walls that had already begun to close around us again. We held each other in the dark, feeling the wreckage in both of us, the blood drying on my skin, the prickle of my wounds healing, the poison of Morgoth’s touch still not fully washed from the air. Traumatised and broken, we finally acknowledged the truth. The mountain had shifted. It would not shift back.

Shackled In Shadow Part VII - The Inspection

[sevenmerrymagpies]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The adrenaline wears off, the drugs wear off, but that heart taproot doesn’t disappear. If anything, it gets louder. She knows Steve is in a lot of pain, and the ringing in his ears hasn’t stopped. She knows he keeps looking at her right ankle until he finally says to one of the paramedics, “She’s not going to say it, but I think she twisted her ankle.” The paramedic kneels before Robin, palpating her foot and ankle before declaring it a mild sprain and wrapping it up. Over his head, Robin and Steve stare at each other. What the hell is happening, he asks without saying a word. I don’t know, how are we doing this? She replies. +++ Robin is pretty sure she's going to die in the Russian Hell Basement under Starcourt. When they give her the truth serum it seems to unlock something inside her. Something that binds Steve and her together.

[fic-rec-time]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

wake your sleepy soul

by dalniente

Megamind/Complete/Chapters: 1 Words: 7,920

The Punktak had soulmates. Humans don't. This doesn't necessarily mean the two are incompatible. Soulmate AU: Your soulmate hears you when you sing. Written for Megamind Month 2019.

//

A lovely fic with an interesting and original plot. There’s mystery, reveal, hurt/comfort, and cool details. I like Wayne’s character in this, as well.

[xxphenomeniall]

“Holy fucking shit. The new guy is smoking hot.” “I’m glad you think so. I really hope you’re looking at me, and not some other new guy.”

[potter-loves-malfoy]

Hello!! So I don’t know if you already did a list for this, but I really wanna read more mind link/emotion link style Drarry fics (ones where they communicate thoughts and stuff) like Harmonized Consciousness or Mental. They’re really hard to find with tags, any good ones? Thanks!!!

There really aren't too too many that I know either but here's some!

Like a House on Fire by jolly_love

Third year Boggart lesson goes a little differently for Harry and he runs off. Which third year student is afraid of fear itself? Harry has other demons to fight than fear itself, honestly.

Wormwood & Realgar by opalesqueopioid

In which Harry has a dragon to find, a heart to return, and two mountains to climb.

Sod Off Potter. by Bellad0nna

When Harry wakes up to a strange voice invading his head he feels as if he should be far more surprised and concerned than he actually is. Although it's to be expected at this point, after all there is always 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 wrong and it almost always involves Malfoy.

Or that one where Draco and Harry find themselves connected through some kind of ancient legilimency bond and decide to work together to figure it out. Love ensues.

Beautifully Unbound by breath_of_mine (tsundanire)

Auror Potter is sent on a mission to clear out deadly artifacts from a Death Eater Safehouse with Draco Malfoy. What could possibly go wrong?

This next one is a series where they have a mental link as part of a soulmate bond in the later instalments

All That is Gold Does Not Glitter by Kyuketsuki_of_Gallifrey

One friendship between two purebloods that commiserate the trials of living up to their parent's expectations during the Triwizard Tournament changes the course of the future. This is a series of one-shots in a Soulmate AU where Draco and Fleur are friends and it brings Draco into Harry's life in unexpected ways. Each one-shot can stand on its own, you don't necessarily need to read all of them to understand what is happening in any given fic, but if read together they spin a gut-wrenching tale of love and hate and overcoming the darker parts of yourself.