#ashes ashes fall down dead

[glitchfiles]

only 'til dawn. [ljn]

pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader

wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+

warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...

note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D

"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.

you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.

"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.

there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!

it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work. 

"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.

normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.

he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.

“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.

"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.

"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod. 

how bad can it be? 

he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.

"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.

"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?" 

you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."

he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.

once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.

the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now. 

the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.

you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.

a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.

warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.

“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.

“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again. 

jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples. 

“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”

“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.” 

you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his. 

reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile. 

“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?” 

you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.

you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.

“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”

“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.

“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.” 

“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.

“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.

you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on. 

“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth. 

“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that. 

“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over. 

jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.

“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.

“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace. 

he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy. 

“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”

your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.

“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”

“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.

your brain goes blank in an instant. 

he’s deep. so deep. too deep!

you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust. 

“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force. 

it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs. 

it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs. 

“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.

a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually. 

you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too. 

the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.

this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.

“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.

give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.

you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.

you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”

jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…

★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3

© glitchfiles

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWO

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, kidnapping, 141 are mean pirates, brief mentions of gore/death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The time you spent in the brig was frigid and isolating. Despite it being summer, the cold gusts of the sea had crept in through the thin cracks of the wooden ship, rising goosebumps on your skin and sending shivers wracking through your body. You were in no attire to accommodate the chill, only dressed in your barest of summer garments, thin and dirtied from the poverty your village lived in.

Silence became your new friend, while also your enemy. As much as you were one to appreciate the quiet of the world, the waves crashing along the sides of the ship were far too loud, taunting you with a grim reminder that you were lost at sea with no home to return to.

Your home was burned down to ash, surely with no survivors, given the state of havoc you’d returned to when Ghost told you to fetch your things. Your home didn’t treat you kindly, but it was still the place you’d grown up in and planned on dying peacefully. Now, you were a prisoner to pirates, ones only told about in silly fairy tales.

The stories of pirates had scared you when you were a young child. The elders had grouped together all children on summer nights such as this one, feeding them useless fables of the dangerous men and women that ruled the seas. They were ruthless, showing no remorse for the ones they tormented, uncaring of the bloodshed they splattered along native lands of the innocent.

That’s all they were when you were a child. Stories. Only meant to keep the youth away from the seas as not to witness them fall in and succumb to a painful death of drowning.

Now, though, it was your cruel reality. A nightmare. The pirates from those tales had been plucked straight out of the book and planted right into your life, erupting it into living hell.

Nobody had come to check on you after Ghost left you locked up in the cell. It had been hours since, the only telltale sign being the peek of sunlight poking through the small brig window and illuminating the room enough to shower you in a faint glow. There was nothing but a cot in the cell, the lower deck bare of anything useful.

Your escape would be fruitless. You’d thought about squeezing through the tiny window, but even if you managed, where would that leave you? Captured in the waves of the sea until you’d sink to the bottom in exhaustion.

You had to play it smart. Staying awake for hours alone had left you with plenty of rapid thoughts, some irrational. The best thing you’d decided in the end was to play along, gain their trust, and fulfill your role. As much as a part of you wished you were dead, it would be betraying your village, betraying Mary.

They needed to be caught. These pirates needed to pay for their crimes.

Gain their trust. Get off of the ship. Inform the nearest guard station.

When daylight fully broke, the sound of a creaky door caught your attention. More sunlight poured through the open doorway from the top of the stairs, showcasing one of the pirates. This time, it wasn’t Ghost, but instead, the one who had tossed you over their shoulder like a weak sack of potatoes.

Gaz said nothing as he descended down the stairs. In his hand was a steaming bowl, swirling around him like an ominous mist. His eyes locked on to yours, hardened from years of thievery and slaughter. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in them, nor indication that he was anything besides a sailing machine designed to follow Captain’s orders.

You watched keenly as he approached your cell. He stood over you like a brewing storm cloud, shadowing you from the stretch of light behind him.

For a moment, the two of you sat there frozen. You, terrified and cautious. Him, off putting and brooding.

Breaking the tension, his free hand scrambled for the keys latched on to the loops on his trousers, inserting one of the keys into the lock. He paused, eyeing you as a warning not to pull a brainless move. When he was satisfied you wouldn’t dare, he tugged the cell door open before stepping inside.

“Here,” he muttered, crouching down to place the bowl of food in front of you. Upon further inspection, you realized it was porridge. Bland and colorless.

You had no appetite after the horrors you’d seen. The sight of food had your stomach twisting, filling with rotten bile that begged to escape you and paint the floor beneath you.

Brimming with rage and seethe, you did the first thing that came to mind. Your hands picked up the bowl, carefully guiding it up to your mouth in attempts to seem starved. Gaz watched carefully, face set in firm lines that bristled a resentful itch inside of you.

With a turn of your hands, you tossed the porridge directly at Gaz, coating him in the piping liquid, chunks of vegetable that had been carelessly tossed in for flavor slipping down his front. His shirt and trousers were drenched, staining with the lifeless meal.

His face morphed into one of surprise before quickly shifting course. Instead, he was angry, eyebrows pulling taut, scowl curling on his lips. His eyes darkened impossibly more, filling the warm pupils with a menacing black.

“You fuckin’ wench,” he hissed, standing from his crouch to angrily swipe at the food that littered his clothing. It fell to the floor in a mushy mess right in front of you. Due to his aggression, a few stray chunks splattered back on to you in retaliation.

Realizing what you’d done, you tensed up, shuffling back from your place on the floor until your back hit the splintering walls of the ship. Gaz let out a roaring groan in irritation, sending a daggering glare your way.

“You are not hungry?” he asked tauntingly. He stepped out of the cell, slamming the door shut and locking it up tight. “Starve then. You will learn soon enough.”

Watching with widened eyes, he left the brig, grumbling angry curses to himself. When he shut the doors of your escape, you were met with sickening silence once again. The sound of waves taunted you, whispering insults in your ears for being such a stupid girl.

The pact you’d made with yourself was already in ruin. Befriending the pirates would be a difficult task if you couldn’t swallow down your enmity, and now you’d gone and made a foe.

Nobody returned to your cell for the rest of the day. It was punishment, that much you could figure out. Your stomach grumbled with desperate pleas, yet you could do nothing but wallow in your own acrimony for the remainder of the night.

When morning rose, you were awakened by the sound of the door once again. The light was blinding as it invaded the room, temporarily blocking your view of the person who’d stepped inside. When your eyes adjusted, you were faced with another pirate, the one who had held Mary down while you pleaded with him to release her.

Gaz stood beside him, arms crossed to appear larger. His face was unreadable, but you could feel the tease of resentment fluttering in his eyes.

“Not goin’ to toss yer breakfast on me, are ye?” the other snickered, eliciting a glare from Gaz. The pirate stepped forward, unlocking your cell and slipping inside. This time, he held the stale porridge while Gaz remained a pace behind him. “I know yer starvin’, so don’t be a prude. Eat up, aye?”

He set the bowl in front of you, just as Gaz had done. Remaining crouched in front of you, he made a gesture of his head towards the steaming meal, a toothy grin on his face.

You knew better than to feel relieved at the kindness. He was a pirate, just as the others, and he was cruel and unruly. Though, thinking back on your plan, his youthfulness may be a much easier one to befriend.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly with a respectful bow of your head. You reached for the bowl, gathering it in both hands. Gaz and the other studied you, seemingly waiting for a repeat of dirty laundry. It never came, though, and you lifted the wood spoon to your lips, swallowing down the first bite.

Just as you thought, it was bitter. How one could even make porridge bitter, you were unsure, but your stomach made no protest to the grainy oats. In fact, it was rather appealing, having been starved for two days.

“Take it ye like it, then?” the one pirate hummed, cocking his head at the display. “Get used to it, birdie. It’ll be yer meal for majority of yer time here.” He shot you another grin, resembling a mangy cat.

The reminder of your permanent stay was a difficult one, but your plan played over in your head. You wanted to go home, though it was no more, and you wanted your freedom back. Neither would be possible if you didn’t show kindness in return.

“What’s your name?” you questioned, making a poor attempt at conversation.

“Soap,” he introduced proudly. You didn’t mean to, but the name made you snort, triggering a light cough from the porridge you’d been in the middle of swallowing down.

“Soap is an… interesting name,” you grimaced. Soap didn’t seem to mind the back-handedness, only keeping that signature grin that was beginning to grow a bit hard on the eyes.

“Aye, got the name from bein’ a bit too rowdy. Price wanted to wash my mouth out.” His own words had him cackling, loud and boisterous in the cramped brig. Gaz had no reaction, opting for the hardened look that was practically piercing into you like thousands of knives. “What’s yer name, birdie? Got to learn who our new medic is.”

You wanted to remind him that you weren’t a medic. Not a professional one, anyway. You knew the bare minimum of proper medical etiquette and your medicines Ghost had told you to bring with were simply experimental mixtures. But you also knew that he wouldn’t listen nor care.

“The village called me dove,” you explained, swallowing down more porridge. It was warm in your mouth, coating your throat with gooey goodness. “Though, I don’t think it was much out of kindness.”

Soap hummed in acknowledgement, shooting a lopsided smile and a nod of his head. “Not quite a pirate name, dove, but it’ll do.”

“I’m not a pirate,” you defended with a frown.

“Ye are now,” he reckoned mindlessly, shrugging a lazy shoulder. Soap stood from his position, straightening up next to Gaz. “I’ll give ye some advice to be a part of this crew, dove. It’s not nice to throw porridge at a poor lad like Gaz.” Soap clapped Gaz on his shoulder, earning a scowl, which he ignored.

Your eyes shifted from Soap to Gaz, taking in the pure annoyance radiating off of him in waves. It was undeniable, practically filling the room’s atmosphere with black mist.

“I apologize,” you forced out, though that bitter part of you denied it. You wouldn’t feel sorry for these pirates. After all, they didn’t feel bad for the innocent lives they ruined.

Gaz’s nose twitched at your faux remorse, staring at you for a beat too long before turning away. He made no move to talk to you, but it wasn’t a blatant refusal of your apology. Perhaps he was just a tough nut to crack with a soft sweetness on the inside, even for a pirate.

The two men left you alone in the brig once again, only returning to give you meals as needed. It was terribly lonely the more the weeks went on with no move to release you from your cell. It was as if none of them trusted you, despite them being the ones to kidnap you. They burned down your home, slaughtered your people, and yet, wouldn’t allow you a chance to taste a sliver of freedom.

It was agonizing to wait, but you kept up your facade as much as you could, dripping with poisoned honey every time Gaz or Soap entered the brig with means to feed you.

Price or Ghost hadn’t made an entrance to see you. For the most part, you were grateful for it. In just the couple of weeks Soap and Gaz had been feeding you, they were warming up to you, slow and steady — Soap more than the other.

Gaz still had his reservations about you. He was reclusive, always standing on guard as if the shadows in the wall were prepared to attack at any given moment. It was better than before, where he had treated you like a burdening dog who he couldn’t rid himself of, but the progress was dwindling.

Soap was much more gracious. While he was obnoxious, he was much more welcoming company. You had no desire to truly befriend these pirates, but if any were to be the most tolerable, it was Soap.

Price and Ghost, though, were a mystery. Their absence made crucial falters in your meticulous plotting. You wanted out of the cell so you may roam the creaky decks of the ship, but the dream simply wouldn’t be possible without their trust.

It wasn’t until the fourth week of your imprisonment that the storyline had shifted. Rather than Soap bringing you your meal for the night, it was the Captain himself, standing tall and brute in front of your barred enclosure.

Unease rattled through your bones at his sudden appearance. You weren’t expecting him, nor were you prepared to face the very man who had slain your village with the help of his men.

He observed you like a lab rat, studying every movement like a variable in his experiment. It was prodding and exposing, leaving you sitting in your cell with a heavy lump in your throat.

“Soap tells me you’re warmin’ up to him,” he claimed, breaking the thick silence that smothered the air. He paced back and forth in front of your cell, eyes focused in on you. “Figured I’d properly introduce myself, seein’ as we’ll be spendin’ a lot of time together.”

You swallowed the rock in your throat, unmoving from your position on the floor. It was far from comfortable, but the cot was worn and dirty, so the floor became your only friend in the midst of all your dispair.

“I see,” you managed, clearing your throat. Price continued his relentless pacing, hands crossed behind his back in a formal manner. Ironic, really, considering his ruthless occupation.

“Dove, was it?” he asked. You nodded wearily. “A shame, really. Doves are lovely things, beautiful creatures made up of the purest white. Yet your village had called you it in ridicule. Or so I heard.”

Price was a man that spoke in riddles. He spouted conversation in the form of poetry, only tainting its beauty when angered. It was both unnerving and intriguing for a pirate. He wasn’t dirtied like you’d heard in childhood tales.

“I suppose they did,” you agreed with a small frown. The anxious pit in your stomach only grew, triggering alarm bells telling you that this man was an enigma. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“And why is that?” Price questioned. He ceased his pacing to face you properly, and you wished he’d return to it. His stature was that of a behemoth, overpowering and menacing, much like Ghost had been.

“Why did they call me dove?” you responded in confusion.

“Why did they ridicule you,” he corrected.

The statement made you pause. You hadn’t really thought about your townspeople dumbing you down to a mere crazy girl with too much ambition. You were the talk of the village within your age group as well as the occasional elder who tsked at you for never marrying.

The relationship between you and your people was one of complexity. While you loved them as your own, they battered you every chance they had. Hell, even Lucius himself had outed you to a group of pirates without care in the world. The very man who had spent countless months in attempts to make you a pretty village wife had sent you to your early grave to save his own ass.

“They thought I was different,” you explained woefully. “It is not normal for a woman to partake in medicine, let alone education. Doves are beautiful, yes, but they’re also adventurous. It is a dangerous conviction to be compared to as a woman.”

Price cocked his head to the side, filling the air with silence. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to explain yourself to a dingy villain such as him, but you feared that if you weren’t honest in your conversation, he’d be able to sniff out your deception from miles away.

“Who has told you it is not normal?” Price asked, and once again, he had stumped you.

“It is not a difficult thing to digest, Captain. Women do not involve themselves in ambition.”

“They quite do,” he retorted. You stared up at him through the bars, your own head cocking. You didn’t trust his word, but a shriveled piece of you was curious. “Sure, it is not acceptable in certain places, but it is quite popular.”

You blinked at him, before staring at the wooden floor, pondering.

You had been expecting the Captain to treat you with hostility, to throw nasty words your way with the excuse of being a pirate. That was what you had been told in adolescence, how dirty they could be, but he was calm.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Price said. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the bars of your cell, standing over you with only that barrier separating you. “I am not a cruel man. You may think differently, and for that, I do not care. But I will say that I believe you will have a much better life upon my ship.”

His words were a mix of sweet venom being spat at you. While they could be perceived as kind, there was an underlying message, one you couldn’t decipher.

“You burned down my village and killed my people. You kidnapped me to be your medic on your ship,” you defended, unable to hold back the taste of lingering resentment.

You had nearly forgotten why you were there with Soap and Gaz visiting to shift your mind elsewhere. You almost dismissed your own plan of escape. Price had reminded you without realizing, and now, your heart felt heavy once again.

“Ah, yes. The people that willingly sacrificed their own in effort to save themselves,” Price mused mockingly. The words stung. “Yes, we took you against your will. I will admit that. But your people treated you far worse.”

“You do not know a thing, Captain,” you spat.

Price cocked his head once more, resting his forehead on the forearms that lay upon your cell. “Aye, I do not,” he admitted. “But I know a bird with clipped wings when I see one. Perhaps you’ll be grateful when you learn to accept things as they are.”

You wanted to retort, wanted to get the last word in, but he was right. You barely knew the Captain and yet, he had read you like a novel, flipping through your pages and memorizing them from one single look through.

It felt dehumanizing. He was cruel and vicious, as were his men. They were nowhere near saviors, yet he spoke to you as if he was. It sickened you to the core, but there was no denying his brutal honesty.

Price offered you a lazy smile before standing straight, arms falling to his sides. “I suggest gettin’ used to your new life. You’ve got no home to return to anyway.”

He retreated from your cell as if he hadn’t slapped you in the face with a dose of reality. His boots were heavy and aggravating as they trudged up the stairs towards the upper deck, where he promptly shut the door on you, leaving you alone once again.

Your escape plan was falling into shambles before it had even began to fester. 

[theveryworstthing]

time to learn a little bit about the Yells. i've been writing a few lore posts for a while and instead of continuing to let they grow and fretting over them, i think i'm just going to throw a few out there and try to finish up the rest this week.

The Yells

Despite their imposing size, strange behaviors, and mysterious keepers, the Signallusc (or The Yells as most rabbits call them) are considered just another part of the island landscape. These towering faux trees serve as the island version of radio towers, and make all radio communication above and below ground possible.

Though the 2 largest of the naturally formed Yells are still upright and active (and heavily protected so that their natural life cycle can be properly studied), these days rabbits prefer to cultivate the towers so that they don’t grow in problematic areas or do…other things.

Wild or free growth Yells make their homes in dead rotting wood as natural decomposers, and many live out their lives as simple slime molds (or as simple as any slime mold can be). Certain conditions must be met to trigger the drastic color change and vertical growth that make them viable for communication use, and so wild Yells are usually found growing in small clusters in or around the resources they need to sustain their new forms. Dead trees or stumps with roots still in the ground are prime hosts for these slime molds and they’re actually seen as beneficial since they stabilize potentially dangerous dead trees and kill diseases or especially destructive insects that might harm surrounding living trees. Once inside these dead trees the slime mold eats them from the inside out, taking the branches first, and then devouring the mass from the top down.

Compared to other slime molds they can handle direct sunlight quite well, but wild yells still tend to favor hosts in shady areas and from the way these trees are devoured they seem to try and keep some sort of shell around them for as long as possible. This wooden shell not only serves as food, but also gives the growing Yell a moist, dark, home until its outer membrane is thick and strong enough to handle being constantly exposed. When wild Yells “die”, it’s usually because they’ve run out of host tree long ago, and have stiffened into a rigid structure that eventually cracks (usually due to being struck by lightning) and crumbles, releasing clouds of spores. The remains of a Yell dissolve in the first rain after they fall and tend to leave the area around the strange lotus pod-ish pit in the ground where “roots” used to be spotless, but smelling very metallic with a hint of foulness. Almost like not so fresh blood.

Through the observations recorded by island botanists and the specific botanical sect known as the Antenna, rabbits (and hares, as they were the first to investigate and made great strides in understanding the process before they left the island en masse) have learned exactly what triggers Yell vertical growth and have used this knowledge to cultivate Yells quite successfully. A combination of owl feathers, metal ore (mainly bog iron), charcoal sticks and or ash (best if created by lightning strike, wood preferred but animal remains like burned out hawks are perfectly acceptable), and a little starter wood are fed to the slime mold, and after it’s broken everything down it begins its transformation. It is then introduced to a host plant sprout, a type of fast growing, woody, creeping vine in the Grasp family bred specifically for this purpose (wild cultivars work fine but they’re half as hardy and the bond has a greater chance of triggering very upsetting mutations. These are different from the upsetting mutations, which are fine and harmless). From then on the slime mold seems to guide the host plant’s growth, forming a shell from the vines that is constantly growing and shedding. This serves as both a home and an ample food source.

The botany world is torn on whether this forms a mutualistic symbiotic relationship or whether it’s straight up parasitism. And yes, plant nerd blood has been spilled over this argument. Not a ton of blood, it’s not like this is the great lichen wars, but still.

The Antenna

All yell care-taking is done by the Antenna sect. This is a mysterious group of witchy botanists and engineers who, like the previously referred to upsetting mutations, are harmless despite their entire vibe. Well. Harmless enough for botanists anyway.

Not a lot is known about them by the general public but they keep things working smoothly and show up quickly when something isn’t.

Members of this sect haven’t had a set “look” or uniform for about a generation and a half due to the ending of a lot of the the founding member’s bloodlines, but each Yell site has it’s own culture that attracts certain kinds of people. Despite their differences, there are a few things that make Antennae easier to pick out of a crowd if you know what to look for. The skin of their inner ears develop thin branching markings or wave-like ripples depending on how they interact with Yells. Some have obvious hare ancestry and sport roughly branching horns that grow quite long and shed every year (these shed horns are fed to the Yells). Newer members wear a lot of lightweight ear jewelry to help pick up important signals and behavioral quirks from the Yells, but the longer they stay in the Antenna the less tolerant they are of this. Things get…loud. Behind their eyes. Inside their teeth. Seasoned members usually can’t stand wearing any metal jewelry at all. The head botanist of one of the most remote Yells wears ear plugs almost 24/7 because of left behind shrapnel from an accident in his youth.

He is deaf.

He says he’s not really blocking anything out, just sorting it properly.

No one really knows what he means. It’s fine.

[lightseoul]

a/n. wrote this immediately after i killed a cockroach for my older brother of 10 years. needless to say, his screaming emboldened me to be the braver person. this led me straight to domestic moments with bkg. (0.7k)

“how the fuck did that get in here?”

he says it so incredulously that you can’t help it—you snort. bakugou’s glare instantly shifts to you—unwavering—from where it was laser-focused a second ago.

right at the massive ass cockroach on his kitchen wall.

his eyebrows furrow even further at you. “are you fucking laughing?”

“no—sorry—” you start, although you cut yourself off with another giggle. he’s trying to keep glaring at you, but a smile threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.

“sorry, what?” he goads, and you shake your head, grinning.

“it’s just…” you gesture to the two of you as if that’s enough of an explanation in itself.

you’re barefoot—standing near the microwave, above and slightly to the left of which the pest is currently located—with one of bakugou’s house slippers on hand. the other one is wielded by the owner himself, although he’s standing a few feet away from you, seemingly in shock.

“don’t—” he spits out hurriedly, “—just keep your fucking eyes trained on it, dumbass.”

“right. sorry.”

you look back at the object of bakugou’s disgust, and it’s flapping its wings now as if it’s readying itself for flight.

the pro-hero must’ve noticed, too, because you see him stiffen through your peripheral vision.

“quick,” he croaks, “kill it.”

you whip to look at him, shocked. “me? you’re closer to it, you do it.”

“just—”

whatever rebuttal bakugou was planning to spew out doesn’t get to see the light of day because just as you predicted it would, the fucking cockroach takes off and flies.

straight into bakugou.

your hulking, #4 pro-hero of a boyfriend stumbles back and screams, barely dodging the pest just as it brushes against a strand of his freshly washed ash-blonde hair. before you know it, bakugou falls on his ass, and the cockroach lands on top of his pristine kitchen counter.

your body acts before your brain can catch up.

you dive, and you slam his perfectly good footwear onto the bug. you smack it again for good measure, before flipping the slipper upside down only to see the gross remains of the vile critter that almost sent the man into a cardiac arrest.

speaking of.

you hold up the object for bakugou—who’s still sitting flat on his butt, wide eyes trained on you—as evidence. you shoot him a placating look, “see? good as dead.”

bakugou studies it for a moment—as if he’s waiting for it to resurrect and jump on him—before he finally decides that it’s a goner. he sighs, bringing himself back on his bare feet.

“thanks,” he mutters, “…babe.”

“no problem,” you offer, “though, i don’t see what the big deal was, kats.”

at that, the bashful look of gratitude that was just etched on his face is immediately replaced by flat-out embarrassment.

“did you see how fucking big that thing was?”

“yeah…?”

“there was no way that was festering inside my home.”

you tamp on the grin that’s fighting to take over your mouth. “that why you basically collapsed in fear?”

“i didn't—” he splutters, before thinking it’s apparently better to change the topic altogether. “why did you have to use my slipper, huh?”

“i left mine in the living room,” you pout. “you shouted my name and i ran here before i could put them on.”

bakugou stares at you for a beat, like he’s trying to come up with a smartass retort, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation.

“yeah, well, thanks again.”

you watch the pro-hero as he takes the decorated slipper from you with obvious repulsion, heading back towards the living room.

“where are you going?” you call out.

he stops, turning to look at you. “the rooftop. i’ll blast this shit to hell.”

bakugou, in fact, does send his poor slippers to hell that night.

but not before calling the exterminator.

because that shit needed to be taken care of—if he wanted you to accept when he finally invites you to move in with him.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[reasonsforhope]

"An environmental toxicologist in California is cleaning up areas contaminated with heavy metals or other pollutants using fungi and native plants in a win-win for nature.

Where once toxic soils in industrial lots sat bare or weed-ridden, there are now flowering meadows of plants and mushrooms, frequented by birds and pollinators: and it’s thanks to Danielle Stevenson.

Founder of DIY Fungi, the 37-year-old ecologist from UC Riverside recently spoke with Yale Press about her ongoing work restoring ‘brownfields,’ a term that describes a contaminated environment, abandoned by industrial, extraction, or transportation operations.

A brownfield could be an old railway yard or the grounds of an abandoned oil refinery, but the uniting factor is the presence of a toxic containment, whether that’s a petrochemical, heavy metal, or something else.

Noting that she had read studies about mushrooms growing around the Chernobyl nuclear plant, she came to understand further, through her work, that fungi are an extraordinarily resilient species of life that consume carbon, and even though petroleum products are toxic to plants, to mushrooms they are essentially a kind of carbon.

In fact, mushrooms break down several categories of toxic waste with the same enzymes they use to consume a dead tree. They can also eat plastic and other things made out of oil, like agrochemicals.

At the Los Angeles railyard, as part of a pilot project, Stevenson and colleagues planted a variety of native grass and flower species alongside dead wood that would incubate specific fungi species called arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi, which assists plants in extracting heavy metals like lead and arsenic from the soil.

Alongside traditional decomposer fungi, the mixture of life forms demonstrated tremendous results in this brownfield.

“In three months we saw a more than 50 percent reduction in all pollutants. By 12 months, they were pretty much not detectable,” Stevenson told Yale 360.

Decontaminating soil like this typically involves bringing in a bulldozer and digging it all up for transportation to a landfill. This method is not only hugely expensive, but also dangerous, as contaminated material can scatter on the winds and fall out of the backs of trucks carting it away.

By contrast, the plants that draw out the toxic metals can be harvested and incinerated down to a small pile of ash before cheap transportation to a hazardous waste facility.

The technique, which Stevenson says has some scaling issues and issues with approval from regulators, is known officially as bioremediation, and she’s even used it to safely break down bags of lubricant-soaked rags from bicycle repair shops.

“People who live in a place impacted by pollution need to have a say in how their neighborhood is being cleaned up. We need to empower them with the tools to do this,” she said."

-via Good News Network, July 16, 2024

[ha-rinrin]

Falling Ashes

Warning: I dont really know if this counts as a spoiler for act 3, but if you haven't watched it, read once you have.

Summary: Jinx made it, but at what cost?

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Authors note: I chose happiness, Jinx isn't dead. I know this is short but I swear there'll be more fics coming out soon.

masterlist

The hum of the airship filled the silence, a steady, mechanical rhythm that seemed to echo the weight of the moment. The world below stretched out in endless darkness, the glow of Zaun's lights fading further with every passing second. You sat beside Jinx on one of the worn benches, the cold metal digging into your legs through your thin clothing.

She was covered in dust and soot, streaks of black smeared across her pale skin. Her hair, usually meticulously braided, was short, matted with ash and debris. The faint smell of explosives still clung to her, a sharp reminder of what had just happened. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, her breathing shallow as she stared at the floor with vacant eyes.

You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face. They blurred your vision, hot and relentless, carving tracks through the grime on your cheeks. Your hands trembled in your lap, clutching at your skirt as though holding onto it would keep you grounded.

“I didn’t think you…” your voice cracked, and you had to swallow hard before continuing. “I didn’t think you’d made it.”

Jinx didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed downward, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of the entire world rested on them. Her hands, stained with gunpowder and blood, twitched slightly before falling still again.

Finally, she tilted her head toward you, just enough to glance at you from the corner of her eye. There was something hollow there, a deep well of exhaustion and hurt that words couldn’t begin to touch. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. She closed it again, her lips pressing into a thin, trembling line.

“I thought I…” you choked on the words, a sob cutting through them. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Jinx’s lips parted again, but all that came out was a faint, bitter chuckle. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement but something else entirely—a reflex, an instinct to push away the weight of your words.

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “I guess I’m hard to get rid of.”

The sarcasm in her tone felt misplaced, hollow, and it only made your chest ache more. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against her arm. She flinched but didn’t pull away, letting your touch linger there, light and uncertain.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I… I thought…”

She finally turned her head fully to look at you, her eyes glinting in the dim light of the cabin. They were wild and distant, haunted by things you couldn’t see, but there was a flicker of something else—a recognition of your presence, even through the fog of whatever storm raged inside her.

“You don’t get it,” she said, her voice wavering. “I wasn’t sure I… should've made it.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. You shook your head vehemently, fresh tears spilling over.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, your hand tightening around her arm. “Don’t ever say that. You… you’re here. That’s all that matters. You made it.”

Her lip quivered, and for a moment, you thought she might break. But she didn’t. She held herself together with a kind of fragile determination, turning her gaze back to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engines. “I’m sorry about Isha.” The name felt like a dagger in your chest, sharp and unforgiving. More tears streamed down your face, and your breath hitched as you struggled to continue. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. I… I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I failed her.”

Jinx stiffened at your words, her hands curling into fists on her lap. For a moment, she looked like she might bolt, her body taut with tension. But then she exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping further as though the fight had drained out of her entirely.

“Isha,” she whispered, her voice cracking as the name escaped her lips. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her expression unreadable. “She was… she was my fault.”

“No,” you said quickly, your voice firm despite the tremor in it. “No, she wasn’t. You can’t… don’t carry that. It wasn’t your fault.”

Jinx finally looked at you again, her purple eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Everything’s my fault,” she muttered, her voice hollow. “Everything I touch falls apart.”

You shook your head, reaching for her hand. This time, she didn’t flinch, though her fingers were cold and limp in your grasp. “That’s not true,” you said, your voice trembling with conviction. “You’re here. You’re still here. That means something, Jinx. It has to mean something.”

Her fingers twitched in yours, and for a brief moment, she squeezed your hand back. The gesture was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A tiny spark of connection in the vast, overwhelming darkness.

The airship continued its steady ascent, carrying the two of you further from the chaos you’d left behind. The silence between you was heavy but no longer unbearable, a fragile truce in the aftermath of everything lost.

You glanced out the small window of the airship, the faint lights of the cities below disappearing into the darkness. Swallowing hard, you turned back to Jinx, your voice hesitant as you asked, "Where… where are we going?"

Jinx didn’t look up right away. Her fingers idly traced the edge of the bench, smearing the dust and grime into faint streaks. After a long pause, she answered, her voice low and detached, "Far. Far from this place."

Her words felt heavy, a subtle finality to them that made your stomach twist. You searched her face, hoping to find something more—some shred of reassurance—but her expression remained guarded, her gaze distant. It was as though she were talking to herself as much as she was to you.

“Far from everything,” she added quietly, almost too soft to hear.

[chiyuuchu]

Some things never changed <3 (30th September 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Katsuki’s future son travels back in time, leaving the entire bakusquad in shocked when they find out who Katsuki ends up with

It was a lazy afternoon, and the Bakusquad was chilling in the common room of the U.A. dorms. Bakugou lounged on the couch, arms crossed, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, while Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Jirou were sprawled around the room, passing time and chatting.

Out of nowhere, a bright flash illuminated the space, causing everyone to jump. In the middle of the common room, a young boy no older than eight appeared, as if he’d stepped straight out of thin air.

"What the hell?!" Bakugou shot up from the couch, glaring at the boy, who had the same spiky ash-blonde hair and piercing red eyes as him. The kid’s expression? A scowl, eerily similar to Bakugou’s.

The boy smirked up at Bakugou. "Wow... Dad, you really were just as loud as Mom said."

The entire room froze. Kirishima blinked in confusion. Mina slowly straightened up in her seat, and Kaminari’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

"D-Did he just call you *Dad*?" Kaminari stuttered, eyes wide.

Bakugou stood there, absolutely dumbfounded. "What the hell are you talking about, brat?!"

The boy crossed his arms, looking smug. "I’m your son. From the future. I wanted to see what you were like in high school."

It felt like time stopped as the Bakusquad processed this. They all slowly turned to Bakugou, who was staring at the boy as if he were seeing a ghost.

Jirou’s eyebrow shot up. "There’s no way."

"Yeah, no way," Sero said, but then he looked at the boy closer. "Wait…"

"He... kind of looks exactly like you," Mina noted, leaning in to inspect the kid.

"And he talks like you too!" Kirishima said, now more excited than confused.

The boy huffed, unimpressed. "Of course I look like him. I’m his kid."

Bakugou’s face went through about three shades of red before he managed to growl out, "No way in hell you’re my kid. This is some stupid joke."

"I’m serious, Dad," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "You’ve always been stubborn."

Bakugou was fuming, completely flustered by the idea. "Who’s the mom, then?!" he demanded, trying to keep control of the situation.

The boy blinked, then shrugged nonchalantly. "That’s easy. It’s—"

Before he could say another word, you strolled past the common room entrance, sipping on a drink, totally unaware of what was happening inside. You gave the group a little wave and continued on your way to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the chaos.

The boy’s eyes followed you, then he turned back to Bakugou, whispering loud enough for the whole group to hear, "*Wow, Mom looks so different when she was younger.*"

The room went dead silent again, and Bakugou froze, staring at the kid in absolute horror.

Mina choked on her drink, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Oh. My. God. Y/N is the mom?!"

Kaminari burst into hysterical laughter, falling back onto the floor. "Bakugou and Y/N? No way! This is gold!"

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Jirou muttered, but she was smiling, barely containing her own laughter.

Kirishima looked like his entire world had been turned upside down. "I mean... I could totally see it! Y/N’s always been the calm to Bakugou’s storm."

Bakugou’s face was burning red. "What the hell are you guys talking about?! I don’t like her!"

The boy, clearly having fun, shrugged again. "You can deny it all you want, Dad, but you always said you two didn’t get along at first, and then, well... things changed."

Mina couldn’t stop laughing, nearly falling off her chair. "Oh my God, Bakugou has a crush on Y/N!"

"I do not!" Bakugou roared, looking like he was ready to explode.

Kaminari snickered. "Oh, come on, man, it all makes sense now! That’s why you get so weird when she’s around."

Bakugou turned to Kirishima, desperate for backup. "Tell them they’re idiots!"

But Kirishima scratched the back of his head, looking conflicted. "I mean, bro, you *do* act kind of different when Y/N’s around..."

Sero leaned back, smirking. "Yeah, and let’s not forget how you yelled at Kaminari that one time when he tried to flirt with her."

"I didn’t *yell*," Bakugou snapped, fists clenched. "I just didn’t want him bothering her."

"Sure," Jirou drawled, arms crossed. "Because you’re so protective of everyone, right?"

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he looked ready to combust on the spot. "Shut up! I don’t like her! She’s just—just—"

"Your future wife?" Kaminari suggested with a cheeky grin.

"SHUT UP!" Bakugou barked, his face almost as red as his eyes. "That’s not happening!"

The boy snickered, clearly amused by his dad’s outburst. "Yeah, Dad, that’s what you always say."

Mina practically squealed. "Oh my God, this is the best thing ever! I can’t believe Bakugou ends up with Y/N!"

Bakugou shot a glare so intense that even Kaminari flinched. "I *don’t* end up with anyone! This is some kind of prank!"

Kirishima tried—and failed—to hide his smile. "I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to believe. Y/N’s awesome, and you’ve always had a soft spot for her."

Bakugou’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "You’re all a bunch of idiots! There’s no way I’d—"

"—marry Y/N?" Jirou finished, smirking. "Sure, Bakugou. Keep telling yourself that."

The boy yawned, clearly bored now. "Can we hurry this up, Dad? I didn’t come all the way back in time just to watch you deny everything."

"Alright, that’s it!" Bakugou growled, grabbing the kid by the back of his shirt. "We’re going to figure out how to send you back, and you’re never mentioning any of this *bullshit* again."

Kaminari snickered, still laughing. "Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, bro."

Bakugou threw him a deadly glare as he dragged the boy toward the door. "Keep talking, Pikachu, and I’ll blow your damn face off."

As Bakugou stormed out of the room, the Bakusquad erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

"Man, I knew Bakugou had a thing for Y/N!" Mina said, wiping away tears of laughter. "But I never thought he’d be in *such* denial about it!"

Sero smirked. "This just proves it. Bakugou’s a softie at heart."

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. "I can’t wait to see his reaction when this happens for real."

As the laughter continued, you poked your head back into the common room, confused. "What’s so funny?"

Jirou snickered and waved you off. "Oh, nothing. Just... Bakugou being Bakugou."

You raised an eyebrow but shrugged, walking off again, still completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded in your name.

The Bakusquad exchanged knowing looks, grinning from ear to ear. One thing was for sure—Bakugou’s denials weren’t fooling anyone anymore.

[eph3merall]

i need a fic where reader is grinding on matts (or chris) thigh begging him to touch her but matt/chris just watches and teases her becayse shes been a brat all day andshe gets all whiny and pouty

matt's hands twitch at his sides, desperate to dig into your skin or grasp at your hips. he's seated in front of his pc, having now staring at the fortnite home screen because of the very active someone on his thigh. he can feel the denim of his jeans geting soaked and his boner straining against his boxers.

his fingers tap against the controller in his hands, ignoring the sweet pleas and mewls that echo in his ears. his brows furrow and he bounces his knee once or twice just to see what would happen—and you wrap your arms firmly around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck with a shaky moan. matt would be happy to help, truly, but you've been so goddamn annoying today. acting all bratty and shit, desperate for attention and then throwing a fit like a child when you didn't get what you wanted.

and he hates how hard he is, the urge to give in heavy and weighing in his mind. but he doesn't think you deserve shit with the way you acted today, especially in front of some friends. so he sets his controller down with a loud clatter, and you think he'll help. but matt just leans back, watching as you hump against his thigh like some desperate puppy in heat.

"matt don't be mean... please, want y'so badly, plea—" a big hand covers your mouth, muffling your words as you pant heavily in the palm of his hand. your hips don't stop moving, even as the muscles in your thighs start screaming and dropping dead from the constant movement. you grow sore, only keeping up slow and sluggish movements now because the ache between your thighs was too much to handle.

"should've thought about that before actin' all bratty today, huh?" he leans his face towards yours a little, a pout on his lips that are meant to mock your expression underneath the palm of his hand. fat tears bubble in your eyes, whiningfor him to help you. you just wanted something more to ease the ache in your core, eyes fluttering shut as unshed tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"oh, come on. know you got more in you, work for it. c'mon.. can't expect me to always do the work right?" matt lets his hand fall awy from your face, eyes trained on the pout formed on your lips and the way you just look so frustrated. his hands holdbyour face, one on each side as his thumbs wipe at your eyes to brush the little tears away. his knee bounces again and your body rocks with it, the plead of matt's name sounding like the gates of heaven on your tongue to him.

you don't stop uttering little 'please's every little while, an occasional gasp happening when your clit catches against the zipper of matt's jeans. one look down, he can eye the way your panties are soaked—right along with a giant patch of denim. he finds it hilarious yet torturous at the same time. he wishes he could just sink his dick into you, fuck you sillu until you were stupid on his cock like always.

but you needed to learn a lesson—to not be such a brat anymore. it's why he coos condescendingly, tsking quietly as his hands find a solid place on your hips. he doesn't help you move, but he steadies your body gently when he occasionally bounces his knee up and down just to help you a little.

"you got it. c'mon, baby. m'not gonna help, so if you wanna cum you gotta do it yourself... yeeah, that's it. that's right."

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis

©eph3merall 2024

[lyonnerileyauthor]

His Golden Scales #1

pt 2 | masterpost

fem reader, dragon x human, captor/captive

your father’s body is still warm when your uncle comes to claim the throne. as the last remaining heir it’s yours by right, but he’s always sought out power that wasn’t his.

there’s only one way to take a crown, and it’s by force or death.

his shining knights spirit you away in the dark. you should have seen it coming, but you did always see the best in people. they drag you out to the mountainside, intending to put a sword through you and give you, at least, an honorable death.

then there’s fire. fire and screams as a bolt of flame rushes past you, burning the hair off your arms. a roar fills the valley as a glittering golden creature sweeps down from the sky, carried on wings that blot out the moon.

when the last knight falls over dead, a pile of ash inside a suit of armor, you stand quivering behind a stone and hoping the dragon won’t find you. but his nostrils flare, and you know he’s caught your scent.

“come out, small thing,” the dragon says, his voice a bellow. “I won’t hurt you—just yet.”

you have no choice. he’ll find you soon, and then you’ll be charcoal, too.

you step out into the moonlight, and his golden eyes drink you in. he wraps one huge, clawed hand around you, and draws you close. his breath tickles your skin.

“I found you,” he says, licking his long fangs. “and now you’re mine.”

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[sunlightgalaxy]

stress relief

emily prentiss x fem!reader

idk the word count

warnings: 18+, smut, smoking, smoking kink, praise kink

a/n: ummmm ya in the middle of italy and every time i see someone smoking all i think of is paget brewster maybe i have a problem. also writing this violently hungover and i haven’t written smut in months & this is not proofread. relationship between em and reader is left to interpretation xx enjoy!!

my gif

“you know how bad that is for you, right?” you spoke from behind, the older woman’s eyes turning to meet yours. you stood leaning against the precinct doors, arms crossed as you eyed the cigarette between emily’s fingers.

“it’s stress relief,” she replied, tapping the end to remove ash. “only do it at work.”

“i’m sure there’s some better ways to relieve stress,” you said, moving towards her. there was something about the way she held the cigarette between her hands, so delicately as if it the most fragile item in the world.

prentiss shrugged, moving the cigarette to between her lips and taking a hit. your eyes followed, your legs clenching as you watched her movements. how was something so deadly so attractive?

“so,” emily started, taking note of the way your cheeks heated as she blew out the smoke. “you come out here to watch or for a case-related question?”

“oh, right, sorry.” you muttered, clearing your throat as you felt your cheeks get red. “yeah, we think we found a lead in the case.”

**

as it turned out, the lead was a dead end and the team was back to square one. frustrated, hotch sent everyone back to the hotel for the night. which is how you not only found yourself rooming with emily, but you also found yourself ogling as she whipped out a cigarette on the hotel balcony. you watched her settle into the chair, her eyes focused on the view in front of her. well, until she turned and saw you staring.

emily smirked as she caught you watching her. she found it amusing, really, the way your eyes were fixated on the little product in her hand. as she pulled the cigarette to her mouth for another draw, she motioned to the chair next to her as if to invite you over.

you picked up on this and pulled yourself out of bed, making your way over to the balcony in your pajamas. wordlessly, you settled in the chair next to emily, mere inches separating you two. you shivered, unaware of just how cold it was.

you felt emily’s eyes rake over your body and suddenly became aware of your clothing choice. your small tank top and ever shorter shorts were not uncommon for you to wear around her on a case, but today was different.

“here, hold this.” emily said, passing you her cigarette as she took off her sweatshirt. your eyes shamelessly watched, cigarette in hand as you watched her tank top ride up just a bit as she removed the outer layer.

you two traded items, reaching for the sweatshirt with a grateful smile.

“looks good on you,” emily spoke, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. you looked down, noticing it was her old academy sweatshirt. just a little too big for your frame, the front design fading slightly, it fit you perfectly.

“if it goes missing, you know where to find it,” you teased, moving closer to the older woman. the two of you sat in silence, emily’s hand still playing with the sweatshirt. except, she moved on from the sleeve and started toying with the bottom, right at your upper thigh.

as she finished her cigarette she teased you, slowly moving her hands around your thighs. it was torturously slow, almost agonizing the way she made it feel like hours.

eventually there was nothing of the cigarette left, your eyes following as you watched the butt fall to the ground. emily’s eyes turned to you, pupils blown with lust as she pulled you closer.

no words were spoken as you were pulled into her lips, kiss deeper than ever imagined. you could taste the cigarette on her tongue as it entered your mouth, moaning at the taste.

emily smirked hearing your moan, pulling back and eliciting a whine from you. she ignored it, beginning to trail her lips down your neck. “such a hypocrite,” she murmured, pecking your neck. “hates the concept of cigarettes, but becomes such a slut when she sees me with one.”

“emily,” you gasped, feeling her hands move up under the sweatshirt. you moaned, feeling her pinching your nipples through your tank top. your hand raked through her hair, grounding yourself as you felt wetness around your pussy. you used your free hand to grab her chin, lifting her off your neck and pulling her into a kiss.

this time it was emily who moaned, deepening the kiss as she stood up. she pulled you with, careful not to knock the chairs over. you giggled as she picked you up, keeping your lips pressed together as she carried you inside.

settling you down on the bed, emily pulled back, studying you. “look so pretty in my sweatshirt, sweetheart,” she murmured, hands once again finding the hem. “think you’d look better naked,” though. in a swift motion she whisked both the hoodie and your tank top off, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

your hands mimicked hers, tugging at emily’s shirt and pulling it off. “so pretty,” you whispered, lips attaching to her breast and sucking a hickey into her skin. emily moaned, her hands exploring your body freely as she rested her head atop your hair. your hand moved to her ass, squeezing hard before pulling her sweatpants down.

you gasped as your hand trailed over her pussy, the combined material of the lace thong and the feeling of her wetness eliciting a smirk. “you always wear this to bed?” you asked, toying with the top of her thong.

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out,” emily replied, pulling off of you. “let’s see what you’ve got on, baby.” you watched her reaction as she tugged your shorts down, eyes dark when they were met with your bare, dripping cunt. “all this for me?” she asked, dragging her finger through your folds and collecting your wetness from your cunt. “all this,” she began, eliciting a moan as she brushed over your clit, “from a cigarette?”

“em, oh fuck,” you whined, watching her bring her drenched finger to her lips and suck. you pulled her by the hair and brought her into a smashing kiss, whining at the combined taste of yourself and the remnants of her cigarette. you felt your pussy clench around nothing at the taste, emily’s palm making its way back down to your dripping cunt. you rutted against her hand, wordlessly begging for more friction.

“use your words, princess,” emily said between kisses, her other hand snaking down to press against your hips, effectively stilling your movements.

“need more, em, please,” you begged, trying as best you could to move despite being held down. emily didn’t respond, instead choosing to plunge two fingers into your hole. she instantly hit your sweet spot, eliciting a gasp from you as your hands clawed down her back.

“feel so fucking good, baby,” emily praised, sucking a hickey into your chest. “so fucking tight and wet, all for me.”

“all yours,” you choked out, emily’s gaze reaching up to yours. you could feel the knot in your stomach growing, sensitivity increasing as your orgasm drew closer. as if on cue, emily added a third finger into your cunt, and began flicking her thumb across your clit.

“close?” she asked. you nodded frantically, arching your hips to get emily’s fingers impossibly deeper.

emily leaned down, nipping your earlobe. “come for me, sweet girl,” she whispered. “show me how good you are.”

at emily’s command, you felt your orgasm wash over you, the pleasure hitting you hard as emily’s lips made their way back to yours. she fucked you through it, only retreating when you began panting in her mouth.

emily collapsed on top of you, her fingers breaching your lips as you sucked them clean of your juices. she smiled, watching your fucked-out haze slowly begin to pass. too in awe of your beauty, she gasped as she felt your fingers brush through her slit.

you smirked at emily’s sudden reaction, fingers going deeper into her cunt. “my turn.”

[tryingtofindava]

hi !! could u write tyler x fem reader where they are dating, and instead of tyler being impaled by a tree it’s his girlfriend ! thank u

── 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄!

{[TYLER HERNANDEZ X FEM! READER]}

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

Your breath was staggered, twitching every few seconds or so. Trying your best to keep your eyes open, which proved to be a tricky task.

‘I wonder if I’ll die in the real world.’ Your thoughts spoke loudly, too loudly for your own liking. Why was it so quiet anyways?

Have the other’s drove off?

Will you ever see your friends again?

Will you ever see Tyler again?

I hope they’re safe from that… thing…

…

Is this how you die?

Thoughts like these consumed your mind. Y/n let out a defeated grunt, as she tried to push herself from the tree one more time. Her efforts were all futile though…

She is quite literally a human kabab. On this dead tree. In the middle of fuck all. The girl sighed shakily, her tear filled eyes trailing down to her stomach.

Looking at the tree that had pierced right through her very being, blood gushing out of you at an alarming rate, making it look like a Saw movie in real life.

This sucks major a-

SNAP!

Your head wipe to the side, your puffy eyes widening at the grinning face staring back at you. Shit. You have to get off this tree. Now.

Your brain is in overdrive as you try to push yourself up to escape from the phantom that was approaching rapidly. You close your eyes real tight, waiting for the phantom to scale the tree with ease and end your suffering.

TWACK!

Opening your eyes and peering down, blood dribbling from home parted lips. “Y/n!” You heard the red heads voice call up to you, though it was all muddled from the blood loss.

“Ashlyn, have you found her-“ Tyler looked up, his mouth falling open in utter shock. His hand shakes as he shone his flashlight up on your hanging body.

“Help me get her down!” Ash called out to the boy, who hurriedly went to help the leader to save his girlfriend. While Ben, Aiden, Taylor, and Logan watch from the sidelines.

Making quick work to get the needed medical equipment Ashlyn’s dad had placed in the real world for them to use to help.

You let out a pained whine as you feel Tyler lift you from the bark of the tree. His brows were furrowed as he focused on doing this as quick as possible to not prolong your pain.

“You’re safe now, I got you…” He murmurs quietly to you shaking form.

Everyone in the group made team effort to help you, all while Tyler gripped onto you so hard like if he let go it’d be game over. Mumbling reassurances, though you couldn’t tell id it was to you or himself.

Aiden was talking your ear off to keep you awake. “Y’know? This isn’t even that bad! One time, my bone went right through my knee while playing soccer!” He blabs, though it didn’t help you feel better or assured at all.

“Dude, not the time!” Your boyfriend scolds him, while he rocks you in his shaking arms. While Ben and Logan stitched the gaping hole going through your back to your stomach.

“You’re gonna be okay, I promise… I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He squeezes your arm.

A/N: SOZ THIS WAS SHORT!! ^_^ I’ll probably add more and make it better in the future lolz :3

[komoboko]

𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

tengen uzui x gn!reader ・uzui’s wives mentioned ・hurt comfort ・HUGE manga spoilers!!!! ・can be read as platonic or romantic

ok fine fine I’ll write angst with comfort I GUESS (for now)

When uppermoon 6 was excorsised in the entertainment district, it costed the early retirement of uzui tengen leaving the hashiras down to seven. His arm being chopped off and his injuries severe it was a miracle he could still get up and walk back to his home.

He still acted like his same self, his flashy attire with his more than flameboyant attitude. Most people couldn’t even tell how much guilt the previous sound hashira felt being forced out of his slayer lifestyle. The closer they got to finding the demon king, the more guilt built up inside of him knowing he couldn’t be there to help and support his comrades. It killed him.

On another note, Uzui felt horrible he couldn’t be there to help you. Despite his retirement, you had continued to pursue your career as a slayer wanting to finish the job and end demons for good. He was worried, not that he doubted your abilities or your skills but he was worried he still couldn’t be there to support you. His only choice was to help train you along with the rest of his slayers that came to his training.

The wives helped support him with his troubles, trying to comfort and ease his worries. They also stopped to aid you with your own injuries or provide you with any shelter you needed. Uzui appreciated them for what they were doing but he knew he was running out of time to help. He knew something was coming.

He knew something was coming but he wished he wasn’t right. The ubuyashiki lit up in flames, an explosion that could be heard for miles as smoke and ash sweeped through the land. The presence of muzan was evident along with the sounds of terror. Crows sweeped the camp alerting what was happening, a castle underneath their feet and it swallowed all the slayers in the area including you. Even with his worries you could only shrug him off, promising to return back to him as soon as you could.

The hours passed as time began to tick, the more time passed the more crows swooped by alerting more deaths. Kocho was dead along with tokito and the injuries had gotten more severe. All uzui could do is sit and wait, the last line of defense alongside the previous flame hashira, shinjuro rengoku. Their only goal was to project the youngest kamado and hold off any threats that would try and come by.

Time ticked as death continued to rise Uzui stomached curled. Every time a death was announced he could only worry and think it would be you. The sun rised over the peaks of the mountains, a new day has come. The morning has arrived, a demon’s biggest fear. Muzan’s greatest enemy.

There was silence amongst the corps, no crows reporting any information. It worried him as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Fear creeped us his spine, as he couldn’t seem to shake it off. His eyes finding shinjuro as he stood up seeing shadows move from the horizon, tengen took it into his account to standing up as he saw both the wind and water hashira marching back. There were no other hashiras by their side.

Along came more members of the corps, his mind frazzled until he stopped. His eyes falling into you with your arms wrapped around the butterfly hashira’s tsuguko. Your body was beaten and bruised, your injuries severe as your body was bloody but you had survived. You may of been injured and tainted but you were alive.

Uzui’s arms wrapped around you tightly, he wouldn’t admit it in the long run but the tears that ran down were obvious. His mind that was once running with the possible scenarios of your demise, it quickly cleared like it was never there before. The previous sound hashira could now properly sigh, his shoulders moving down untensing as he could relax for the first time in so many hours.

No matter what he thought would happen, you still came back just like you promised

[phyrestartr]

Their Burning Bodies Keep Us Warm (1/2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.4k #NSFW, top!Sukuna, bottom!Reader, ABO dynamics, cannibalism, mentions of sex trafficking, mentions of cults, questionable relationship, suggested Stockholm syndrome, post-apocalypse, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, drama, gore, typical zombie shite, not rlly edited kekw SORRY

tags: @flowersatwork @tr4nniez @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9

You ran. Even when your lungs tore apart, your legs burned to ash, your mind split and ruptured, you ran. 

The destination was simple: anywhere. Anywhere away from the hell hole you'd been swept up into–a camp full of soldiers getting hopeful little bugs stuck in a honeypot with promises of safety and a life well-lived despite the end of the world. A colony. A chance to stop hoping to simply survive. 

But that wasn't what happened. You and so many others were victims of a breeding ring–a puppy mill, so to speak. One where those able to bear young were forced to. One where a hivemind fooled the naive into thinking this was all for the ultimate goal of repopulation, for a chance to reclaim the world should the infected finally fall.

Yet humans, as smart and powerful as the hive claimed, had already lost once, and now twice as they lit their humanity ablaze for the greater evil of satisfying twisted desires under the guise of necessity. You couldn't take it anymore. 

So, you ran. 

Then, you saw a light. Just faintly. It whispered promises of warmth in the cold deadness of Winter's night; you couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

But that meant someone was inside, too, which could be a blessing or a curse–if they found you, sidling up to the house, listening for signs of life or unlife, they could turn you in to the men chasing you; on the other hand, you might find a friend. A companion. A safe person to sleep by at night. To eat with. To talk to. That'd be nice. 

Your daydreams shattered when the voices of those soldiers echoed in the empty streets of the town you'd found yourself in. You peeked from your perch by the front door of the house, and ducked out of view when you saw two bobbing lights flicking and scanning over the snow. 

Shit, shit, shit. You swallowed thickly, trying to thick through the frost biting you and the snow melting on your bare arms. What were the odds they'd be able to follow your scent? All the way down to the spot where you hid beneath the front steps? It was hard to track another when it was raining, so snow had to be the same, right? So why were they coming closer and closer, why were their voices becoming hushed and their words rushed, why were they–

The door above you slammed open with the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand, hoping the boom coupled with your stalker's shocked, angry barking (just one voice?) stifled whatever pathetic squawk you garbled out. 

It must've. Because the person--the man--standing on the weather-worn deck above you laughed, and stepped down the creaky stairs with heavy, lazy steps before following that soldier's voice. 

Go, go, go. You forced yourself to move, pushing yourself up the steps under the cover of barked threats and the outbreak of a fight. You thought men like that stuck together. That they'd help each other out with delivering omegas back to one another. That they'd invite him to join their diabolic cult–especially when the thick scent of alpha filled your lungs.

You swallowed thickly, your inner omega going wild with curiosity and wonder and a need to curl up in the musk and laze in it all day, but your petrified self picked up the slack and kept you in motion, kept you scrambling for a place to hide. Staying the night was the plan–you wouldn't be able to survive outside, not like this. Not with a t-shirt, worn joggers and runners being your only defense against the cold. 

What happens in the morning? He'd no doubt catch your scent. He'd no doubt realize he had an unwelcome guest. What would he do with you? What would he do to you? 

“I don't care,” You breathed as you jammed yourself into the darkness of a bedroom closet and burrowed into whatever lay on the floor. “I don't care.”

And that was true; being a slave to one was better than being a slave to many. 

–

His eyes shone red.

You weren't sure if you woke in the night to find the demon. You didn't know if your dreamscape simply enjoyed tormenting you. But the burns left by that searing, glowing gaze were real. 

He stood there. Features melded with shadow. Body engulfing the snowy light of night. Staring down at you. Quiet. Still. Inhuman. 

Only your shaky breathing filled the thick, damp void of silence his presence brought. What were you supposed to do? What were you supposed to–

He closed the closet doors, and his lumbering footsteps sauntered away.

–

When morning came, the stranger was not so willing to leave you alone. 

You thought you were being quite crafty, quite sneaky with how you planned on escaping; you waited for sounds of his to stop in a far-off room, then you donned yourself in whatever gear and warm clothes you could find in the closet, and then you carefully, so so so carefully, opened the closet doors and–

“Leaving already, little omega?” A deep, playful voice taunted from the doorway of the room, just out of sight; if you pushed the doors all the way open, you'd see the man standing in the doorway to the left. 

But your hands fumbled alongside your heart. Your voice died in your throat. 

You were caught.

A large hand gripped the side of the closet door and pulled it open. You stumbled backwards, heart shattering from its frosted paralysis to jump into overdrive. 

Because the man, the alpha standing before you, was unlike anything you'd seen before. 

He was tall. His shoulders stretched wide and, judging from the strain of his shirt, his build was formidable and downright predatory. Muscle shifted and adjusted under an expanse of gilded skin everytime the beast moved, changing from looming over you to leaning against the doorframe. Maybe in an attempt to make himself smaller. More likely because of his cocky laziness. 

The smirk plastered on his face bore the same arrogance, too. As did the care in brushing back his hair and actually looking presentable in the guts of a fucking apocalypse. But maybe he relished in the anarchy. You could only assume so much from tattoos marking his skin and the mirth gleaming in hellborne eyes. 

“Go on,” the man drawled, hooking a thumb into his belt, bringing your attention to the thick knife strapped to his side, “Let's hear your pretty voice.” 

“I wasn't gonna stay,” you choked out, and the demon in front of you smiled wider. “I just–I saw your light, and–” 

“And you walked on in without even knocking.” He sighed and shook his head. “Kids these days.” 

“M'not a fucking kid,” You bit out, surprising the both of you with your venom. You thought you'd lost it long ago, but maybe not. 

The man laughed, showing off his brutal, jagged canines. You swore you saw red staining them. 

“You've got some bite, huh? Like that in a bitch.” He stepped closer, and you tried to meld into the wall of clothes behind you, but failed to escape the calloused hand that grabbed you by the jaw and forced your head up, down and around as he inspected you like a piece of meat.

You tried to pull away, tried to turn your head to break free from his grasp. “Don't fucking touch me–”

“Hah. This how you tried to get those alphas off of you?” He taunted, grinning at your sudden wide-eyed stare. “No wonder they used you up like a–” 

You headbutted him and kneed him in the dick before pushing past him and running. Your head pounded thanks to your stupid opener, but at least it worked. Now, you just had to get out of the damn house and–

“OMEGA.” 

–and escape from the devil chasing you. 

His growling voice ripped through your skull like a chainsaw revving to life as you threw yourself down the stairs and out the front door. You slipped and slid, nearly falling and breaking your fucking neck on the porch, but you caught yourself and made a break for the street as the thundering of footsteps clamoured after you. 

Churned snow painted in sour shades of rusted red greeted you. You could almost envision the struggle, the stabbing, the warmth bleeding from their bodies as they died for their selfish desires. It chilled you, gave you pause–and that's where you fucked up. 

The horizon reeled and spun when a heavy body crashed into you and pinned you to the ground. You gasped, straining to catch the breath that'd been punched from your lungs, failing to stop the burning in your chest as your face froze against the pavement. 

“Wily little cunt, huh?” The stranger breathed, rage and amusement fighting through his words. “You bring that much fight to the sack, omega? Hey?” 

You tried to rip free or push him off or something as he taunted you, but you couldn't. You were trapped. Again. Again.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “I'd rather fucking die than–”

You froze. The slow, stuttering shamble of footsteps pricked your ears before low, ungodly moaning and wheezing rattled through the streets. The noise was quiet, but so loud to a frightened deer. 

“Lookit that,” your captor whispered, leaning down to your ear, “Guess God heard your prayer.”

Your heart hammered. “Get off, get off.” Your voice quaked and broke as you thrashed beneath him. “Please.” 

“Thought you said you'd rather die.” His knee ground into your back and you bit back a yelp. 

“Please.” The diabolic gasping came closer, became more frantic as the thing saw you. You couldn't see it, but they always got so fucking excited and loud when they saw fresh, living meat. You knew it was coming. 

“Ah-ah, can't let you go. Your buddy won't be able to catch up and end things for ya.” The stranger cackled something hideous and unnerving. “That'd be a right fucking shame.” 

“Let me up,” You begged.

“Not yet.”

It got closer.

“Please!” 

“No.” 

Just a metre away, now.

“I'll stay.” 

The scent of alphan approval washed over you.

“Good pet.”

You were pulled up and off the snowy ground with ease as soon as you submitted. You even vaguely saw the man kick the undead back with ease, sending it toppling over into the snow and stuck on its back like a helpless turtle. Its motor functions were shot in this weather. It probably wouldn't be getting up for a while. 

You wondered if you were going to suffer the same fate: stuck on your back, unable to move, at the mercy of a sick freak you accidentally met while running away from other lunatics. You were doomed. But at least you were alive. At least you'd be warm.

The pink-haired menace locked up the door before throwing you down onto the couch with little grace. You would have been more mad if the purring roil of the fireplace didn't breathe warm gusts of comfort over you. And, well, you weren't being dragged into a bedroom and tied down. Not yet, at least. 

The make matters worse, the man didn't really say much. Just closed the blinds and ensured the entrances and windows were secured while you sat still and quiet, patient lest you suffer a worse fate. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder before returning to the task at hand. “If I wanted to kill your sorry ass, I woulda done it last night,” he said into the quiet of the room. 

You remembered those eyes staring down at you. How inhuman and evil they were. How much fear they bred in you. And now, you had to accept how real that was. 

He sat down on the coffee table in front of you and leaned towards you, resting his elbows on his knees, holding your gaze with his own. 

“Here's what's gonna happen,” he said, low and dangerous. “I'm gonna let you stay. Real nice of me, yeah? I'll give you food, water. Keep you warm, keep you safe from all the bullshit going on outside. Sounds good, doesn't it?” 

You looked over his face, brows furrowed, heart pounding so loud you almost couldn't hear him. But you nodded for fear of what he'd do otherwise. 

He smiled, satisfied. “Good. And in return,” he started, letting a hand slip up to your knee, “You'll make like a good little whore and keep my bed warm. Fair deal, don't you think?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you had a choice, anyway.

–

Sex with the man–Sukuna, as you’d come to learn–wasn’t the worst thing imaginable; for one, he had some level of patience and tact when it came to stretching and lubing you up for your occasional “duties,” which put him in your “good book” right away (Christ, your standards had fallen so low). 

Secondly, he didn’t make you participate. He’d command you in the same way each time (“face down, ass up, don't bite”), and he'd have his way with you. He never made you kiss him. Never demanded you speak. Never bullied you. He seemed like he just wanted to stuff his cock somewhere warm and forget about the world for a bit.

And you didn't really mind it. Sometimes. you almost looked forward to it. Sometimes, you let little noises escape when he railed you into the bed with reckless abandon. Sometimes, you wanted his hands on you just a little longer. 

Because when he wasn't fucking you, he might disappear out of the blue and leave you all alone, only to return a week later with supplies and clothes, unperishable goods and other random odds and ends he found along the way. Once, he even found a retro game store and scooped up an endless supply of gameboy advance and colour games and consoles. Another time, he carried home a bag full of weather-worn books. 

What'll it be today? You wondered when you caught sight of the man wandering back up the steps. He cursed under his breath as he messed with the lock for an eternity, and you took the opportunity to scurry away from the living room to put some distance between the two of you just in case; at this point, you didn't expect him to hurt you, but wild animals were unpredictable, even when seemingly domesticated.

“Fuckin' shit-ass door,” Sukuna grumbled as he nudged it open before kicking it closed and locking up. “Need to fix that shit.” 

You peered down at him from your perch halfway up the stairs and watched him saunter around, heavy boots clunking on the floors you just washed as he looked around. You had to wonder who the hell had taught him shoes inside was okay. 

“Where the fuck is that little bitch,” he mumbled, walking out of your line of sight. He traipsed through the bottom floor thoroughly before walking past the stairs again, pausing, rewinding, and meeting your patient statre. “The fuck are you doing?”

I don't want you to bite me; I don't know if you'll randomly kill me if you're in a bad mood; I don't trust you like that, all ran through your head, but none felt like a good option to admit to. So, you shrugged.

Sukuna sighed, loud and laced with an aggravated growl. “Downstairs. Now. Need you to do something.” 

Your brows furrowed slightly. Normally, you weren't asked to do much. The sudden command had your skin itching. 

“Now.” 

“Coming.” You tried to control the quivering of your legs on your descent to him, and just prayed he didn't notice. 

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes and a bit of a sneer before he leaned over, sniffing for your scent, circling around you a few times, and finally rubbing his wrist against your neck to half-heartedly re-mark you. 

You cleared your throat. “Is that it?” 

Sukuna scoffed and turned away, grabbing the medical bag from the kitchen cabinet and dumping it on the counter. “You know how to sew, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah. I can sew.” You approached warily as he gestured you closer. 

“Hah. Good to know you're not completely fucking useless.” He sat down heavily onto a bar stool and shrugged off his jacket and shirt before turning his back to you; a long, jagged gash marred his skin with trails of dark, gooey ichor and scarlett smears. Whatever had happened was serious.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, scrambling to look through the medical bag to find something, anything, that seemed like it'd help. You found some essentials: gauze, tape, bandages, antibiotic cream, disinfectant wipes. But you'd definitely need more than a few dinky wipes to deal with his back.

You felt his eyes on you as you puttered around the kitchen, grabbing this and that and some other things before returning to his side with salt, bottled water, and booze in-hand. 

Sukuna quirked a brow. “The fuck is all that for?” 

You jumped a bit when his voice interrupted your whirling thoughts. “I–gonna, um, try to make some kinda…saline. To clean it.” You cleared your throat again and set the mostly-empty bottle of sake by him. “That's for…y'know.”

“Loud and clear,” Sukuna sighed, dreading what was to come, and took a long, long drink from the bottle.

You pursed your lips and nodded to yourself before starting to mix the salt and water together in the bottle. You weren't sure what the ratio should be, but you figured there wasn't necessarily a limit, not when you were lacking isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. You'd be sure to mention it to him next time he went out. 

“So. This'll…suck,” you warned, voice nervous and weak. 

Sukuna sighed again. Took a swig again. Then ripped his belt from his waist, folded it a few times, and bit down. 

He gave you an unenthused thumbs-up, and you found the nerve to jab a hole in the plastic bottle cap before spraying your makeshift saline solution against the wound. 

You nearly shit yourself as Sukuna growled with the force of a jet turbine. Faintly, you heard the creaking groan of leather crackle from his mouth as his teeth sank in deep. His canines probably already pierced through the material. 

“I know,” you whispered, actually feeling badly for the animal keeping you prisoner. “I know.”

You took your time cleaning the wound out, being sure to remove any sort of gravel or shrapnel embedded into his flesh. Luckily, the gash looked worse than it actually ended up being. It bled a lot, but it didn't cut all the way through to his ribs or beyond. Talk about lucky. 

When a majority of his trembling and snarling ebbed, you hazarded the question: “So…how’d this happen?” 

Sukuna groaned, and you almost smiled. “Fell off a fucking roof. Hit a sign on the way down.” 

You cringed at the thought. “Well. It's…not that bad.” You drenched the wound with another round of salt water before patting it dry.

“Yeah? Then no stitches,” he half-declared, half-asked. 

You gave his back a pitying look before reaching for the needle. Sukuna scoffed and muttered colourful obscenities when he saw your fingers snatch up the tool before disappearing behind him again. 

“Fuck me.”

“Sorry,” you offered softly, trying not to laugh. 

You saw his knee bounce in trepidation as you wiped his skin and the needle down with those cute little towelettes. You kinda felt bad for him. Healthcare in the apocalypse was a bit lacklustre.

As carefully as you could, you pushed the needle through his skin, and tried not to gag at the obscene feeling. The sound of his fist hitting the countertop helped ground you, though, and helped keep you on task stitch, after stitch, after stitch, after–

You set aside the tools and cleaned off your trembling, crimson-stained hands as best as you could before applying whatever ointment you could under gauze, and finally bandaging his torso up. Sukuna's eyes followed you, but you couldn't bear to look at him, quietly afraid of what he might do if your unsteady gaze met his; but that wasn't acceptable, judging by how he grabbed your arm and stopped you from turning away to clean up the mess. 

You looked at him, then, eyes laser-focused. Every shift pumped your veins with ice. Every flick of his attention sent electricity down your spine. Every silent word his lips failed to commit to filled you with dread. 

“Thanks,” he said. And he let go. 

[luna-cove]

Double Trouble | Luke and Kieran ft. Sylus

✧ summary: you take a quick liking to luke and kieran, they do the same.

✧ pairing: luke x female reader, kieran x female reader, sylus x female reader

✧ word count: 9.5K

✧ genre: smut, slight angst and fluff

✧ warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with little/no plot, dubious consent, manipulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, threesome, vaginal sex, dirty talk, blindfolds, rough sex, oral sex(m! and f! receiving), masturbation, mask kink, fingering, finger sucking, face fucking, teasing, creampie, choking, degradation, praise kink, name-calling, pet names, switch!reader kinda,

✧ a/n: i posted this two months ago?? on ao3?? yeah so this was my first ever smut so it’s not great but i’m learning lmao. enjoy and be kind. this was inspired by milkandstarlight on here and one of their posts abt the twins <3

You woke up with your wrists and ankles bound and in a random man's car. You must of finally made it to the N109 Zone.

Your mind was still hazy from the drugs wearing off. Everything was happening so fast and the next thing you knew you were thrown on the ground, the dried grass straching against your palms that caught yourself. Dead trees adorned the dark gray, cloudy sky. You say a mausoleum not far from you, assuming it must a been a cemetry before the incident that happend years ago. A man appeared in front of you, only pulled out a knife and start searching over your body for the Aether Core as he held it near your throat. Like an angel from above, you heard a voice call out.

"Kidnapping Onychinus' prey without letting us know... That's not exactly polite."

The sky turned a light red at the voice. The man got behind you at the sound, the knife now closer to your throat than before. That feeling of a savior went as quickly it came. Another called out once more.

"She's ours, by the way. We called dibs a long time ago."

A black smoke cloud with red light streaks appeared out of nowhere and sliced the assailant's arm. The knife falling out of his hand and onto the ground. You followed shortly after as the man tried to get away. The cloud of red and black appeared again, this time revealing a masked individual in its mist. He stood tall, dressed in black with red accents to his outfit and mask. A hood with two red devil horns covered him.

"I'm really curious... She's brave enough to drink from a black glass."

He turned toward you, as he walked over another individual basically identical appeared behind him from the mist. Your kidnapper had failed to escape, dropping to his knees right in front of the second masked man who stepped on his back and pushed him further into the ground. A small cloud came from his hand, before it registered in your mind, it quickly darted across your kidnapper's throat. The sound of the blade could be heard and then you saw a pool of blood on the cobblestone. The man collapsed forward before he dissipated into ash.

"What will she do when backed into a corner..." One of them pondered as he sauntered up to you alongside the other.

Truthfully, it had you feeling something unexplainable.

"You're pretty bold for releasing information about the Aether Core into the Nest like that." The second said.

"Explains why boss is so interested."

"Where is he?"

"He said to wait."

"Well, how long?"

The two bickered between each other. Brothers, no doubt. They turned back to you, the attention making you freeze, not that the restraints gave you much to work with. However, you didn't expect them to pick you up and sit you down a woren down concerte slab. One on each side and for far too long was it quiet with no head of Onychinus showing.

"I'm bored." One sighed. "I am truly getting curious... About that backed into a corner thing."

The masked man was now sitting next to you in closer than ever. It was just a mask looking at you but you felt like he could see the deepest parts of your soul.

"Luke, you know Sylus will be here any moment." The other reminded him. "Not the time. Leave her alone."

"She's so pretty..." Luke said sweetly as his nimble fingers reached up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Don't you think, Kieran?"

He didn't answer. All you could see was his back turned to the both of you with his arms crossed. You looked back at the one named Luke who's thigh still touched your own.

"What's your name, pretty?" He asked. "Boss never told us."

"Y/n..." You spoke up.

"Well, Y/n..." He leaned before he whispered mischievously, "Would you like to play with me?"

You backed away to look at the man in front you, partly surprised at his bluntness as you knew exactly what he meant by 'play' and the other part of you was intrigued by him.

"The boss would be very mad if you were to mess with his new toy." Kieran interrupted.

"Toy?" You scoffed at him. "Yes... I want to play with you. Both of you, actually."

"So ambitious." Luke chuckled. "Did you hear that, Kieran? She wants to take both of us."

"But Sylus-"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. We just have to be quick, that's all."

It clicked that they meant right there and then, in the open. It was secluded but the thought of the possibility of being caught was somewhat thrilling. In an attempt to find any sort of relief you clenched around nothing.

"You're okay with that right, Princess?" Luke questioned, his hand smoothing over your jean cladded thigh.

He wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you. The way your cheeks flushed, the way your eyes were hazed over and the sudden instense body heat that radiated off of you already told him the answer. The nodding of your head just confirmed it and within moments you lost your sight as he asked his brother for help. A dark piece of cloth came to blindfold you and all you could rely on was your other senses as you were surrounded by two men you just met. You could hear Kieran behind you take off his mask and put it on the concrete as you felt one of his brother's hand caress down the curve of your waist to rest on the band of your pants. It lingered just above where you needed for far too long to your liking. Your heavy breathing became pants before you bucked your hips.

"Do something, please." You begged.

"Eager now, are we?" Kieran murmured into your ear as he pushed your hair over to your other shoulder.

Suddenly, you felt his lips leave gentle but long kisses on the skin of your exposed neck, he pulled back the fabric of your shirt down to leave a longer trail on your shoulder. The sound of the blade rang in the air and your ankles relax as the rope fell to the ground. You felt Luke move to your side before his hand trailed down your abdomen and into your underwear as you spread your legs. The way his fingertips immediately brushed so softly over your clit has you sigh as you jolt before and relaxing into his brother's chest. You whimpered as he rubbed gently circles into the bud.

"You're so wet and we've barely done anything." You could hear the smile and pride in his voice when he said that. "What got you that way? Tell me."

You didn't respond to him. He rubbed your clit with more pressure which had you gasping and squirming in Kieran's embrace as he left little bites on your tender skin.

"Tell me." Luke repeated.

"Just the way you came in... I don't know, the way you say things, the way you fought the kidnapper and everything... I found it hot. You looked hot, fuck."

You were humiliated, falling apart for these two and for what? They both laughed.

"You don't even know what we look like." Luke taunted. "Is it the masks? Do they turn you on? Is it the mystery?"

"It's cute." Kieran chimed in.

From behind, a hand came up and gripped your jaw to pull you closer before crashing his lips against yours. Your tongues brush against each other. It was so dirty and messy in contrast to how light and sweet his touch remained on your cheek. It was so intoxicating... Suddenly, the rough rope wasn't digging into your wrists anymore and you couldn't help but reach behind and find your hand in Kieran's soft hair in an effort to keep in close as he took your breath away. Luke's slender fingers found their way further down, teasing your entrance with light touches that had you whining against the other's lips as you desperately searched for a way to satisfy the growing heat inbetween your legs.

"She's being so good... Taking us both and not running away." Kieran pulled away from your lips to tell his brother. "We don't have much time, hurry up for her sake at least."

The sensation of two digits plunging into you while his thumb rubbed against your clit had you moaning as you threw your head back against the other's shoulder. You were so pathetically desperate for them. You let out little whimpers and moans which each thrust in and out of her fingers. It started so agonizing slow before speeding up and you couldn't but try to chase the feelings with your hips. You could feel Kieran's hard-on from behind and every move from you was torturous. Despite his discomfort, he continued to nibble and lick on the sweet spots of your neck as he ran his hands up and down your body. All of your pleasure was interrupted by a phone ringing, coming from the boy behind you.

"It's Sylus."

"Shit."

Luke took his hand out of your pants so quickly. You sighed in disappointment, it felt like you had a pool in your underwear. It was so cold the way the fabric sat against you. You found yourself clenching around nothing once more. You felt fingers from Kieran against your lips.

"Suck." He whispered the demand in your ear.

Without a thought, you followed the ordered as he picked up the phone. Not even paying attention to the phone call happening behind you.

"We'll be there as soon as possible, Boss."

The sound of the phone disconnecting was heard. It was brief but the silence in the air was so thick. You released his fingers with a 'pop'

"What did he say?" Luke questioned.

"He's not coming, something came up." The other answered.

"So we have more time with her."

"We can't be suspicious but a little. So, move."

Kieran got up, leaving you dazed as you heard him shuffling around next to you. He ordered his brother to move you over. You felt hands run over your clothed thighs.

"Do you want to cum, princess?” He asked.

”Please…” You cried, begging for a release of any kind.

Still blind, in the matter of seconds you were exposed from the waist down. Cloth could be felt against your skin rather than concrete. Cool air hit your core. Your legs fell apart instantly, pleading for some type of stimuli in between. Hands gripped your thighs as more shuffling could be heard. You fully expected to feel a hand once more but the presence of warm breath hit you. A long, slow strip was licked up your heat that caused you to let an embarrassing high pitched moan. A few kitten licks followed. You felt fingers tease your folds, picking up slick before falling deep into you. A tongue lapped at your bud in such a delicious way as the digits instead you slowly build up pace. You squirmed in other’s lap, mouth agape with small whines and sinister moans escaping every now and again. You grabbed at Luke who was now behind you in an attempt to ground yourself as you humped his brother’s tongue in desperation.

“With the way you act at just at some fingers and tongue…” He started as he held your hands tighter. “I can’t wait to see how wild you’ll go on my cock… You’d look so pretty taking all of me.”

You whimper in response. The lust was insatiable at this point and like a possession.

“Wanna cum—So bad—I want more.” You whined out. “I want both of you inside of me… Please.”

Kieran came to a halt which cause you to collapse weakly as you breathed heavy.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Kieran asked, the sound of a belt buckle becoming undone and dropping to the ground. “Can you really take both of us, let alone me?”

”Fuck me, please!” You cried out. “I wanna be filled up so bad.”

It felt painful, them constantly building you up with no release. You were ready to lose it if you hadn’t already. You laid there, helplessly in silence waiting for something to happen. The lack of touch was unbearable but you still feel them around you. A hand came to touch your thigh and move it upward, exposing you to the hair once more.

Something hard and warm rubbed against your folds finally. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing soon enough you’ll have what you’ve been craving.

”It’s not fair that you get her first.” One whined, obviously Luke.

”Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a tease then.” Kieran retorted. “I’m just giving her what she asked for.”

The head of his cock throbbed against your clit. The feeling disappeared within moments, a thumb came to make gentle motions on your bud as you finally felt the tip enter you. He tenses until he reaches the hilt and feel him relax against you as he falls forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder just for a moment. He lets out a breathy grunt in your ear.

”So fucking tight.” He whispered.

Heat radiated off of him. His words unintentionally make you clench around his member causing him to let out a high pitch moan in your ear. He ruts into you so deeply, your head rolls back into his brother’s lap. The steady pace of him hitting all the right areas within your walls had you screaming and shaking with pleasure as you encourage him to keep going in between out of breath moans.

”More—Harder—Faster…” You begged, you hand resting against his abdomen, the touch sending shocks of pleasure straight down into his cock.

”Whatever you want, princess.”

Kieran’s hands come up to grab your waist to lift you up against him, snapping his hips against yours as the sounds of skins slapping against each other echoed around you. Your mouth fell agape once more as you whined out almost pornographically. Your eyes rolled back behind the blindfold as he reached deep within you, hitting everything so perfectly.

So lost in your own world with Kieran, you had forgotten about the other masked man before you felt his lips against your ear.

”Will you help me out, sweetheart?” He asks, softly. “You‘re doing so well…”

You could only imagine how painful it must’ve felt as you reach out toward him. Your hand traveling over his body until it rested on the restricted bulge that you rubbed over causing him to hiss. The familiar sound of a belt becoming unbuckled could be such. You were shocked to feel something soft touch your lips.

”Suck me off, please.” He pleaded with a moan.

He’d be lying if he said seeing you suck his brother’s fingers off while he was on the phone didn’t do something to him. The way your tongue swirled around his fingers and the drool around your lips made him feel so primal almost.

His voice… The way he begged and asked so politely, it went straight to your core and instinctively your tongue came out to lick over the slit before your lips wrapped around his tip, giving him a light suck as little sighs of relief spilled from him. You release it, a string of salvia still connecting between the two of you. You lick the underside of his shaft from the base up that caused a jolt in him before you eagerly take all of him in your mouth.

Taken back, he lets out a long moan and pulls your hair back as he watches the way you bob your head up and down on him. He throws his head as he can’t help but buck his hips into your mouth at the sight of you getting fucked out.

His pace quickened. You choked a bit as his cock hit the back of your throat. Jaw aching, tears pricked your eyes. You moaned against him as Kieran is ramming into relentlessly, one hand rubbing circles into your clit that slowly accelerated while the other found its way under your shirt and bra to squeeze your nipple.

“Oh fuck, Y/n.” You heard Luke curse, his hips began to falter against your nose.

He speeds up for a few seconds, hitting the back of your throat without a care beside his own pleasure before he slows down. A warm, thick liquid hits your tongue. As hot cum fills your mouth as a reflex you swallow it all. The only evidence left being the little bits of cum that spilled over lips.

“Such a good girl…” Luke moaned before he wiped the cum away from your mouth.

He grabbed your face to leave a kiss on your lips, tasting the saltiness left over from him. It was oddly sweet considering what just happened prior. You sighed against his lips, swiping your tongue along his bottom lip before his lips parted to let your tongues meet one another.

Pants and heavy breathing filled the air as Kieran still fucked into you. You moaned into the other’s mouth as he got dangerously close to your sweet spot, the stimulation on your clit intensifying it all. His thrusts began to become more erratic, the friction on your bud increasing. You cried out as he abused that spot inside you.

”Fuck yes, yes, yes!” You screamed, going crazy as Luke held you.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer, reaching out for Kieran in front of you holding onto his waist as plowed into you. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you, letting out a pathetically long, high-pitch moan. You withered in Luke’s arms as he kissed up and down your neck as you made an attempt to drag out your orgasm as long as possible on the other’s length.

The way you grind yourself and squeeze against him sent him over the edge. His hips slowed as you felt the sensation of warm cum coat your walls that had you letting out gasp. Kieran leaned down, leaving a long bit deep kiss on your lips as he finished his final thrusts before he pulled out. You winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness within you and the lose of the other behind you. Cum started to leak out of you and drip down your thighs and onto the cloth beneath. You lay there against hard surface, catching your breath.

“So pretty.” You heard one of them mumble.

You didn’t expect your vision to come back so quickly. Looking around, you found them both dressed with their masks back on. You felt something swipe over your thigh, realizing it was the thing just around your eyes now wiping up the mess made. You reached out to grab the man’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

”You didn’t get a turn.” You said, weakly.

”Another time, princess.” He laughed. “You’re too considerate.”

He got done cleaning you up as best as possible, discarding the soiled items while the other help you stand up and get dressed.

“How can you tell us apart?” Kieran asked as you stepped back into your shoes.

”Your voices are different…” You told.

”Whose do you like better?”

It’d had been difficult some time since you entered the N109 Zone. You met Sylus, leader of Onychinus. The man was intimidating and looking into his eyes had you feeling like he knew everything about you. A voice would appear in your head whenever you met his gaze. It was quite odd and against your own wishes, you ended up shooting the guy and being knocked out for a day.

You wondered, could he tell what his servants just did to you? Could he tell how much you enjoyed it and wanted something to happen again? No way… If it was that much an issue like the twins made it seem to be messing around with you. You wouldn’t have woken up with both of them looking at you.

You found yourself spending most of your time with Sylus when he was awake. However, when he was asleep you always found yourself with Luke and Kieran for hours on end… Their boss would be sleeping in the room next to theirs while they had you taking one of them from behind as the other sat in front of you, holding your face and telling you how good you were being before they switched.

You began to realize they were very different in the realm of sex. Luke would always praise you but Kieran, he liked to degrade you. Luke liked to edge you, the way you fell apart on him after all the built up gave him a sense of pride. He was usually more gentle with you and his pacing to get to your orgasms while his brother would rail you and overstimulate you, loving the way you’d become a drooling mess. Their stamina was insane

You found yourself under Kieran who held your wrists as he fucked up into you one night. Luke massaged your clit with one hand as he stroked his own length with the other from the side. You were litter with little love bites from the both of them. The bed frame creaked against the wall adding to the excitement of Sylus finding out and walking in the scene.

Your eyes rolled back at the idea as you bit your lip to suppress a moan from slipping pass. The brutal, quick thrusts stopped and turned into long, drawn out ones that hit you hard once Kieran did snap his hips into you. You let out a small moan at the uncharacteristic thing of him.

”We want to hear you.” He said.

”But Sylus…” You sighed out at the feeling of his hips meeting yours before slowly being dragged out.

He chuckles, “I’m inside of you right now. I can feel you clench around me every time the bed frame creaks. I feel you every time you can hear him stir in his sleep and how you relax when he goes back to snoring. You like the idea of him knowing and seeing you like this, don’t you?”

You shook your head against the pillow. A sharp motion of his hips had his tip reach that spot inside you that had you yelp with no way to cover your mouth.

”You’re lying.” He said. “You want him to see you all filled up with our cum, all fucked out and dumb from us. You want him to see what a slut you are and you want him to treat you the same way.”

A clench around his shaft at the words was just a confirmation before he started back up with his relentless pounding into you that had you whining as you approached your orgasmed and found yourself under the other for the nth time that day.

They seemed to pick up on much more than their boss. Whenever the two of you got home from somewhere, they could tell when Sylus did something that unintentionally got you hot and bothered. He wasn’t going to take care of it so they were always so kind to do so. Sometimes so kind to try and recreate what happened with a twist.

“Relax. You can handle it.” Luke whispered into your ear as he aligned himself with your entrance.

He opened your palm with his hand before intertwining your fingers with his. It was much more gentle than the encounter with Sylus and also Kieran’s recreation but maybe gentle was the you need to end this session with them as soon this time would need to come to an end for the sake of normality.

A few hours of sleep was never enough time for recovery from the twins. You were barely able to walk normal out into the dining room were Sylus and them all sat eating a meal. The boys snickered to one another and even teased you about it in front him which was odd considering they were the ones wanting to hide it. The man with white hair and piercing eyes never said anything or even batted an eye at their teasing. You’d blush about it still and further in the day you’d be annoyed with the little pranks they’d pull on you whenever their boss was around.

You always got distance during the day but at night they’d always start luring you back with kisses and promises of pleasure. However the next time, in their room, they told you they only reason they did it was so nothing seemed suspicious. Whenever they had guest they’d tease and mess with them in the way they did in front of Sylus. You were the only guest they teased and messed with in other ways. They didn’t want to bite the hand that feeds them.

Once you were aware of this, you started to give as good as you get. You'd pull Kieran around the corner asking to show him something and once hidden behind a wall you'd grab his hand just to wrap your lips around his fingers and such while looking up at him with doe eyes. Sylus quite literally always in the next room eating or doing something else at a leisurely pace. with the potential of him catching you both. The first time stunned him but it almost became a game of how many times you could do it. It didn't stop there, sometimes you'd pull Luke away to make out with him. The other started to get jealous that you weren't taking him behind a wall to kiss and they'd start to fight over who got to sneak away with you which you'd smile at.

Other times it was one of them sneaking their hands down your panties as you tried to stay as quiet as possible while bucking in their hand or them getting on their knees and pull your shorts and underwear aside to get a taste and lick you up and down as you covered your mouth with your head thrown back. The rest of the time, it was their turn where you'd take one of them away and end up on your knees for them, a hand in your hair always guiding you at a pace they selected as they bucked their own hips accordingly or your hand would be wrapped around their length as their masks came to rest just above your lips allowing you hid their moans from the mere feets away.

It wasn’t always sex, they knew you needed a break with the way they pushed you. Sometimes, it was just talking on their bed or playing a game. They refused to take off their masks no matter what you did or said. You became familiar with only the sight of their pink lips as they would only lift their masks so far off. It was the one thing you hated while also loving it. Seeing them in their masks as they were deep into you, their own grunts and moans leaking out did something to you and you had no idea why. But if you wanted to be kissed anywhere by either of them at all while they gave countless orgasms, you’d have to be blindfolded or one would have to cover your eyes. They always refused and they never told you the reason.

”Why do I never get to see your faces?” You whined as Luke’s fingers traced shapes up and down your arms as you laid between him in Kieran.

”You like the masks.” He said, softly. “We don’t want to ruin what you like.”

“I would like you both either way.” You admitted.

With the amount of times the both of them had flipped you into different positions, fucked you in multiple parts of the estate and had finished in you, you think the would’ve realized that by now.

“Who would you like more?”

Maybe it was the mystery of it. It killed you because it felt like the final barrier between you all. You wanted to see their faces contort in pleasure as you sink down on them. You wanted to see them try to hold back their own noises of bliss. You wanted to see them desperate for you in their entirety.

The best you get to that was pinning Luke to the bed one night. While riding him, your hand snaked up to his throat to squeeze lightly. A choked moaned came threw which had you smirking. Your other hand rested on his shoulder as you bounced yourself up and down on his shaft, giving him a show as you let out whines and little phrases of encouragement to him while out of breath that him twitching inside of you as you tried to speed up.

You weren’t on your high horse for long before Kieran came and lifted you off only to have you sink down on him. You’re back to his rest while on his lap, he held your legs wide open. Planting his feet into the mattress, he used his momentum to fuck into you as your mouth hung open, letting out pitiful gasps. The other now in front of you, knowing exactly what you want in that moment as one of his hand reached to rub your bud while the other situated his mask just above his lips so he could comfortably kiss you and swallow your noises.

”Such a good cum slut.” He snickered as he filled you up to brim.

You hated how much you loved it. The feeling of being so full but also empty. You hated how much you loved them being the reasons behind all your orgasm.

He knew what you liked. They both did by the way your walls would wrap even tighter around them whenever they did something or said something new.

As much as they liked those incredibly intimate moments with you, they liked just being with you, knowing more about you as a person. They were attached you and began to wonder what they’d do when you had to leave because that time was coming sooner or later with that auction approaching. They didn’t let you know but they were already planning rendezvouses to Linkon for you.

Sylus set you up on a little mission to find a broach he hid somewhere. However, they saw you be thrown out of his room multiple times within the last few hours and saw you disappear behind the doors again recently. You hadn’t been seen again so maybe it was a good thing for you but when you opened the door they could hear the shower running.

They looked at each other as the door clicked closed, silently hoping to one another that it wasn’t time to cross that road just yet… However, it wasn’t longer after that they heard the door swing open.

”Leave. I’m going to bed.” A deep voice sighed as a thud could be heard before the door slammed shut.

You were cursing under your breath as you entered the study. You threw yourself on the couch. A notepad rest in your lap, scribbling a way in it angrily as your grumbled to yourself, unaware of the twins’ presence in the room with you.

“You're pulling your hair out over this, huh?” Kieran asked, gently, catching your attention. “If you want to do something, maybe we can help you.”

You looked up to see him sitting on the desk, looking at you over his shoulder while his brother sat in a chair next to him, his chin resting in his hand.

“What do you mean?” You poured.

”If you want to conquer our boss's heart, you'll have to use a different approach.” Luke informed you while leaning back in his chair before pulling out a book and opening it to cite something."For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest."

He closed the book, resting it on the table as you walked up to take it in your hands.

"When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go.” Kieran picked up where his brother left off. “In other words—“

A pair of handcuffs and gun where thrown on the surface before you, leaving you puzzled.

“Strike when they’re off guard.” They said in unison.

”Boss is the least guarded when he's sleeping.” Kieran told you.

”You only have one shot. Don't waste this chance. Just do it!” Luke encouraged you. “You’re blushing… What happened in there?”

Part of you hoped, he wouldn’t noticed. It didn’t help when the other reached out to you.

”You’re so warm too…” Kieran pointed out. “You’re in the mood, aren’t you?”

“Yes…” You felt guilty at the confession. “I went in when he was taking a shower and then he walked out in just a short towel. He just had to catch me eavesdropping too and then he basically tied me up with his evol and I’m tired of it.”

They chuckled at you as your cheeks appeared brighter. Usually now, you’d be taken care of for hours but as they walked up to you all they did was pull up their masks a bit to leave kisses on both your cheeks.

”You don’t have much time.” Luke reminded you. “As I said, you have to take your chance now. I promise to take care of you later once you get what you need.”

He left a gentle kiss on your forehead.

”One more for good luck.” Kieran said before leaving a kiss on your lips.

They put their masks back down as they saw you walk away. The door closed behind you and energy in the air shifted immediately once you no longer stood there with them.

“You know what we just did, right?” Kieran asked his brother.

”I know, unfortunately.” Luke sighed.

Sylus did not like being handcuff to his bed by you in attempt to get the broach. The gun was only full of confetti, a mortifying betrayal.

”You’re so gullible, kitten.” The man snickered.

At least you got the broach though.

Your clothes laid discarded on the floor. The bed creaked, the sounds of screams and pants filled the air alongside skin slapping. Sweat covered your body and cum started to cake your thighs. You don’t know how long you had been there or how many times Sylus made you cum around his fingers, tongue and cock.

Overstimulated, the brushing of his robe tickles you with every thrust that had you letting out quiet whines. You laid there with your face against the mattress and ass up in the air. Sylus’ hands gripped your hips so hard to bring you back on him, hard. Your walls snug around him as you cried out for more. His hand grabbed your jaw to lift your head up as his thrust got harder against you.

“So eager, sweetie.” He teased you. “You were never disgusted by me, were you? You were just mad I didn’t fuck you. You could’ve just said something. I would’ve gladly taken care of you sooner. How many rounds have we’ve gone and you’re still not tired? So pathetic and desperate.”

You let out a helpless moan in response, finally opening your eyes long enough to look back at the white haired man. However, something out of the corner of your eyes caught your attention. You’d know those masks anywhere and they were peaking out from the doorway, watching you. You froze up a little bit as you noticed them but you knew deep down you liked the fact that they were there watching, with no way to do anything. You liked it even more when you could see the both of them with bulges in their pants.

Nothing would ever be true payback but you had to try at least…

You got up weakly, the arms shaking underneath you as Sylus continued.

“Wait.” You panted. “I want to try something.”

His thrusts slowed only for him to be able to put more force in them. You cried as you collapsed forward the mattress.

”Don’t tell me what to do, sweetie.” He grunted, bitterly.

His pace picked up again. Sore and weak, you mustered up all your strength to pull yourself flush against him. You’re back now against his bare, muscular torso. You threw your head back on his chest as you used his sides as a way to pick up momentum to match his thrusts whatsoever.

You looked at him with doe eyes as you gasped for air, absolutely letting yourself get lost in the pleasure while repeatedly sinking on him. Your eyes rolled back as he used the opportunity to leave bites on your exposed neck already sprouting red marks. You looked back at the door way, the twins still there and looking in as they watch you act like you’re getting the best sex of your life.

You let them see the way you throw yourself back on him as you call out of his name breathlessly and begged to cum. Something about knowing they were watching as you stretched around the man that held power over them did something unexplainable to you. He grabbed onto your hips tightly, his tongue now brushing against yours as you whined into his mouth at his thrusts becoming more erratic and rough.

You forgot they were there… Your eyes not so much as glancing at them enraged them as well as the uncomfortable feeling in between their thighs that would have no resolve. They both stormed down the hall, away from Sylus’ room but it didn’t matter. They could still hear you scream his name and moans which made their blood boil in a way it shouldn’t of.

You don’t remember falling asleep under the black silk sheets that belonged to Sylus. The white haired man was fast asleep next to you. Everything felt oddly clean… You do vaguely remember cleaning you up afterward, letting you shower and borrow a sweater off his. He brought you to bed after, the sheets fresh. It was unexpected of him, uncharacteristically sweet of him. You fully anticipated him telling you to get out as soon as he used you but he didn’t.

Maybe you were wrong about him.

You slipped out of his bed. The lost of warmth next to him made him stir a bit in his sleep. You look at him to make sure he doesn’t wake up as you quietly start on a mission to sneak out of his room. When you go to turn your attention to the door, Luke and Kieran stand in front of you all of a sudden. It takes you aback for a moment and then you remember how pissed off you are at them. You immediately push pass them and they follow shortly behind you into the hallway.

”Hey, where are you going?” Luke asked.

”To my room.” You respond, rather bitterly. “Leave me alone.”

”We’re sorry.” Kieran sighed.

His words stopped you as you slowly turned around to glare at the twins who looked rather guilty.

”So you did know?” You scoffed. “God, I was really hoping you didn’t because then it’d be so much easier. I’m so fucking mad at you both!”

”He only told us so much so not really…”

“We didn’t know it was going to happen.”

”Only a feeling, huh? And you didn’t even care to share that me? You’re both suppose to be the ones I’m closest to. How am I suppose to trust you two if you don’t tell me things?”

“We want to! But he could tell we want to say something to you and we just couldn’t… You know how he is. We’re sorry again, Y/n. We can’t say that enough...”

The way they stood there with their heads down. Truthfully, you couldn’t be mad at them. You loved them too much. They knew you want Sylus at some point anyway.

“Make it up to me.” You demanded.

”Huh?” They asked in unison.

”You heard me.” You said.

”How?”

“Like you haven’t done it before. I know seeing another man in me ticked you both off. At least, I hope it did so you both learn your lesson.”

They nodded which had you smiling before they ran over to you to lift up their masks and exchange kisses before take you to their room. You were thrown on their mattress in the matter of seconds after the door opened. A familiar blindfold came to cover your eyes as you heard both their masks come to rest on their nightstand. Your body became hot with kisses sernaded by the both them, long licks over the right spots. Their hands roamed over your body, carress certain parts, gripping and massaging the others which had you gasping between long kisses you shared with the both of them.

You felt one’s hand come to rest against your heat over your panties that whined at at as the other’s hand lifted up the knitted sweater over your chest. You felt a pair of lips wrap itself around your nipple, teeth lightly brushing against it that you had you arching up. A brief slurping sound of the bud being sucked could be heard before you felt the unknown twin start to lap at it with his tongue. The hand continued to rub against you at such an agonizing slow pace. Your essence starting to leave a dark spot on the cloth and coat his fingers slighly. You whined at the sudden lost of friction but was presently surpised to feel a kiss on top of your underwear causing you to jolt and buck your hips at the stimulation.

Most definitely Luke...

Right as you felt a finger hook around the soaked cloth of your panties, it stopped.

"Stop, I have an idea." He told his brother before you heard shared, indistinct whispers exchanged between the both of them.

High of lust, you didn't fully process them lifting you up and moving elsewhere. That was until you found yourself on a much harder surface. Your underwear came off in a swift motion. Your thighs found a familiar place on what was presumably Luke's shoulder as he dragged you closer to him. The blindfold came off, your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the increase in light around, Looking around, you saw the sheets on the bed in front of you bunched up. Your eyes widened as you saw the tuffs of white hair peak out from the sheets. You were in Sylus' room, on his couch. The tongue leaving a sudden stripe over you had all the worry disspate for a moment as you clenched around nothing, biting your lip yearning for more. Luke teases you on his tongue, never quite hitting the spot you need but getting so close which has you throwing your head back on the couch. You find Kieran behind the couch, his hands running over you shoulders passed the bunched up sweater to gently pinch your nipples between his fingers. You thrashed against the couch, grinding against the other's tongue, the beak of his mask that concede his identity, digging into you as you watched the bed occupied by a sleeping Sylus in front of you with hooded eyes.

"What a slut." Kieran degraded you, the beak of his mask running up the side of your neck as he whispered in your ear. "Your still wearing his sweater while two different people pleasure you... In his room where he could wake up any moment and see how desprate you are to let annyone ruin you."

You felt the flutter in your core at his words, Luke focuing more at the way his long flicks your bud in-between your legs. You grab the top of his head, tongue now flat against you to let you grind on his tongue until he can taste your sweet release on him as you shake, mouth agape as you let out heavy breaths. He comes up from between your thighs, his chin covered in liquid as he leans in allowing you to taste yourself on him.

"What's next, princess?" He asked, smile on his lips that peeked out from under the mask, chin still covered in your essence.

"I need you inside of me..." You shamelessly confessed.

They were trying to make it up to you so you knew they’d just give in today to make you happy.

”Which one?”

You saw an opportunity to mess when with them.

”I want Luke.” You said as you grabbed onto Kieran behind you.

They looked at each other, probably puzzled because it never mattered how dumb they fucked you, you’d always know the difference between them. However, they didn’t say anything as the other came to sit down on the couch.

You wasted no time in straddling his lap once he took a seat. You took his hard cock into your hand and lined up with your entrance before sinking down abruptly causing him to let out a small grunt as you did, a hand coming to rest on your waist. Unexpectedly for him, your hand wrapped around his throat. You bit your lip as you tightly squeeze it. You didn’t anticipate a loud moan to leave him as you looked back to make sure Sylus was still asleep. You didn’t expect to feel him twitch inside of you and grab at your waist as an attempt to bring you closer.

Kieran never let you take control. You didn’t expect him to like it, you didn’t think you’d get away with it either. You thought he was going to flip you over onto the couch and without regard to the others in the room, just fuck you into the sofa. Yet, he was still under you, letting you rock back and forth for your own pleasure.

The lack of powerfulness with Kieran turned you on even more. Your other hand came to rest on his shoulder to aid you and bouncing up and down on his shaft that his head lolled back on the back of the couch. His fingers digged into your skin as you could hear him try to control his volume. His thighs tensed under you ever so often, his tip twitching inside of you every time your walls hugged him tighter.

”And you call me a slut.” You chuckled bitterly into his ear, his hands freezing. “Yet, you’re loving the fact that I’m in control, fucking you in front of your sleeping boss and we could be caught at anymore. You’re the whore.”

”You knew it was me?” Kieran choked at as your grip on his throat became tighter causing him to moan helplessly.

He always called you a slut while Luke always told you were a good girl.

”Payback.” You smirked. “Now, be a good boy and cum for me, hmm?”

He took this as a sign to grip onto your waist, thrusts into you by his own accord. Moans and grunts escaped his lips as you occasionally squeezed the sides of his throat even tighter, ones that went straight to your core that caused your walls to hug him even tighter. You could feel his pace shorten and become inconsistent, knowing he was close.

”I’m going to cum…” He whimpered out, stroking your ego to see him like this.

”Hmm,” You hummed, your other hand sneaking behind the mask to grip at his hair as you felt him approach the edge. “Not in me you’re not.”

You got up too quickly for him to process. He whined as thick, white ribbons spurted out and dripped down his shaft and onto his thighs. He desperately bucked up into nothing. He heaved out as his cock twitched, releasing the last of his seed.

You crawled over to Luke who sat on the other side of the sofa. He was so lost in the pleasure he was given himself as he thrusted upward into his fist as he moaned quietly. The way he squeezed himself ever so often with his hand cover in precum was reminiscent of teasing, like he was trying to the milk the longevity of it. He didn’t realize you were there until he felt you between his legs. The way you looked up at him so sweetly but also so lustful, he swore he could’ve bust right then and there.

”I want you to cum in me.” You whispered to him, in a low sensual tone.

”You don’t have to tell me twice.” He sighed, blissfully.

You two swapped places. Your head now laid against the armrest of the sofa as he situated himself between your thighs. He separated your folds before positioning himself at your entrance. He slowly bottom out in you causing you both let out sighs of relief. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of being full. You grabbed at the armrest behind you as Luke started with a firm thrust into you. He pulled up the knitted sweater that still adorned your body, just over your chest to see the way your breasts bounced up at every meeting of his hips against yours. You could feel the way he somehow got harder at the sight of it like you hadn’t been in this position countless times. The scene of you taking him so well as your mouth hung agape, your eyes looking at him so desperate for more motivated him to keep up with sharp and hard thrusts into you.

You looked over at Sylus’ bed where he somehow remained asleep despite the wet sounds mixed with skin against skin right across from him. The only difference being you could now see his sleeping face as he flipped over. The idea of him seeing you like this… You just couldn’t get over it for some reason. Luke felt you squeeze around him and saw you looking at Sylus. His hand came to your chin to turn your attention to him.

”Hey, look at me, princess.” He breathed, the masking moving to the side to leave a sweet kiss on your lips. “So dirty… Loving the idea of him waking up to you getting fucked out by his henchmen in his room. Such a good slut, taking me while he’s just a few feet away.”

You let out a whiny moan as melted underneath his touch at his words. He never called you that before but the small praise mixed in made you go crazy. You clench around him as he picked up the pace in you. Your hands flew to his waist to bring him closer to you with your head thrown back on the arm rest. Moans of ours filled the empty space along with the noises of your bodies syncing with each other.

He collapsed forward, caging you in his arms as he ruts into you. Kisses littering your neck along with his familiar praises in your ear and his grunts that fueled you. You look over his shoulder at the other across the couch.

His cock in his palm. Pathetic strokes from the base up. The white liquid acting a lubricant as he tries to speed up but whines out at the sensitivity of it all. You enjoyed the idea of him touching himself at the thought of you so desperately a little too much. You always liked to see each one alone, lost in their own world as they moaned out your name when they thought you weren’t there. They never got mad when you walked in on them or happened to see. Truth to be told, they loved letting you see how much they needed you. It often turned into times alone with each respective twin that were never uttered to the other because jealousy ran deep when it came to you.

Luke could tell you weren’t paying attention to him like he asked. He felt hurt as you clenched around him knowing fell well you were looking at Kieran. The kisses ceased immediately and you lost the feeling of him inside of you that made you cry. He sat up on the couch, pulling you into his lap and had you sink down on him. With no time to really process, you felt a harsh thrust meet your hips sending you toward. Your hands gripped the coffee table in front of you. You looked up to see you now had the view of Sylus in bed once more. Your walls hugged Luke’s length as the sight hit you.

His hands grabbed your hips to allow himself to pound into you as your heart raced in your chest. You wanted to scream out so badly at him hitting the right spot inside of you over and over again. It felt too good, you were going crazy as you trembled and clawed at the coffee table for any way to ground yourself. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind. He hugged you into his chest and felt familiar lips along your neck. You could feel his cheek nuzzle against your hair and don’t quite remember a point in which he could’ve removed his mask.

”If only he could see how good you’re being for me.” Luke groaned softly into your ear. “You’d love that though. You’d put on a little show for him just like you did for us earlier. You’re so filthy… You’re our litle slut, aren’t you, hmm?”

All you do was moan quietly at his words and nod as the way he pulled you back on him made you lose control. It’s like they switched today but something about it was so attractive to you.

“What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He taunted as he slowed which made you whine.

”Yes, Luke!” You breath. “M’need to cum—need you to cum inside of me. Fuck me…”

”You said it, not me.” He chuckled.

He left a light kiss on your cheek before he picked up his pace again. You gasped as one of his arms stayed wrapped around you waist, tightly and his other arm traveled down your body. His fingers found their way to a familiar bud between your legs. As soon as his fingertips started to make circular motions against it, you were seeing stars as he fucked up into you. You panted and whined, your eyes fixed on Sylus sleeping as you tried to keep your noises to a minimum.

Every time you squeezed around him, he’d let out a satisfied sigh. He whispered praises in your ear, nibbling on your neck and you could feel that familiar knot building up in you. You felt electricity in your body.

”Gonna cum—Gonna cum!” You whined out to which Luke speed up the stroke against your bed and the pace.

You shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you. Instinctively, rocking your hips against him as you whined and your rolled back. Shortly after, you heard him groan and felt hot, thick liquid paint your insides. The feeling had you biting your lip as you rested yourself against his chest. He used your hips to push every taste drop into you. His cum started to drip out of you and onto the couch. His cock slipping out of you do to the loss of friction.

Heavy breathing filled the room and you looked over at Kieran who was even messier than before which had you smiling. Your eyes were covered up unexpectedly as you felt Luke leave a longing kiss on your lips.

“Such a good girl…” He sighed.

“Don’t say things like that unless you want to go another round.” You huffed.

“You’d like it as much as we do.” You could hear the smile in Kieran’s voice. “We should clean and go before the boss wakes up…”

With their masks back on, Luke carried you out of the room while his brother stayed behind. Showered and cleaned up, he let you wear one of his shirts to bed and you slept soundly under the sheets. He watched you from the doorway of the bathroom after his shower, arms crossed as he sighed. He was already missing you.

His brother quietly entered their room.

”He did wake up?” Luke questioned.

”Dead to the world like usual.” Kieran answered. “Kind of impressive all that didn’t wake him up…”

His twin pushed pass him to get to the bathroom, ready to climb into the shower. He stood there looking at you, plagued by the thought that sooner or later you’d have to choose one or none. That idea killed him because no one really won in that situation.

“Hey, Mephisto wasn’t in the room, right?”

Oh shit…

©️ lunacove, 2024

[annievrse]

How'd You Turn It Right Around? / Act IV

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place post-time skip. W/C: 20.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Zou spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: Mentions of torture and violence, Doflamingo (& his past), anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, and more violence. A/N: Welcome to the final instalment of Labyrinth! I'm so beyond excited to share this with you, and I hope you find it a fitting ending for a story I've poured so much of myself into. This chapter is more reader-focused, but Law isn't far away! Enjoy!!

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

Much to your chagrin, the Palace is nothing short of elegant—it disgusts you. You sit on the highest level, gazing over a country ruled by a sadistic, arrogant psychopath, and wonder how you ended up here. You could have fought him back on Green Bit, but with Law so close and Doflamingo so ruthless, you took the first out offered to you. Law isn’t weak, you know this, but with his motive so personal, he would act irrationally and maybe get himself killed in the process. So, you took it upon yourself to save him, which cuts him deeply. You know you shouldn’t be putting him through this, but it’s his life or yours. And he deserves to live. 

There’s shuffling behind you, Doflamingo’s executives preparing the chamber for something. They give you wary looks, some laced with terror and some with curiosity, and you wonder what he told them. 

“Dreamweaver.”

You scowl at the name and turn. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo leans against the massive throne that faces the window, his looming figure ominous. You stumble backwards, the backs of your thighs hitting the other throne behind you. There are specks of blood splattered on his pink, feathered coat, but you don’t linger on them for too long, scared of what your mind will conclude. 

“Touchy,” He mutters, sucking his teeth. “Your dear Law will be here soon.” 

Your eyes narrow. “What?”

A grim smile paints his lips. “I captured him, you know, so that I can kill him… if he isn’t already dead.”

You squint at him, the urge to ask what he means by that on the tip of your tongue. The awkward air between you is palpable, but you don’t turn your back to him. “You said—”

“Did I?” Doflamingo interrupts, and then you close your eyes and scold yourself for being so naive, so trusting. He lied about resigning from the Warlords, even got the newspaper to cover it, yet you believed he’d stay away from Law in exchange for your cooperation. How foolish. 

“He fought so valiantly for you,” He continues, pouting. “Too bad it wasn’t enough. He’s just as weak as he was as a child.” 

Vexation churns in your stomach, and you regard him with such revulsion that Doflamingo cackles. Angry tears burn your eyes as you clench your jaw. 

“Who knew the brat could have someone like you caring for him? Someone with an ability so beyond the realm of human comprehension—” 

“Young master,” A man says from the doorway, effectively cutting Doflamingo off. “There are some issues on the lower levels.”

He scowls, his fingers jagged. It’s too late before you fathom what’s happening. The man falls to the floor, his body writhing. His cries are broken, and you watch in horror as the man’s limbs twist and snap grotesquely. You blanch at the sight of his mangled body, his bones turning to ash under his skin. 

Doflamingo's malice is unlike anything you've ever witnessed, his wicked grin stretching wider with each passing moment. He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he looks down at the man, who lies unconscious from the torment.

“They never learn, do they?” 

You don’t breathe. The man’s body dangles like a marionette, invisible strings controlling his limbs. 

“Stop,” You whisper. The sound is almost muted, but a strangled cry escapes your throat when the corners of the man’s mouth rise into a sick, unnatural grin. “Stop!”

Doflamingo looks over his shoulder, his arm raised as he plays with the man like a toy. “Make me.”

If you were thinking clearly, you'd realise this was a test—a twisted way for Doflamingo to gauge the limits of your power. But at this moment, all you can focus on is the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze—for Law, for this man, for everyone who’s suffered at Doflamingo’s hands. You can hardly believe you fell for his manipulative words.

Then Law’s face flashes in your mind, and you feel the tension in your fist ease. You have to stick this out. You can’t let your emotions take over—not with Doflamingo. You can’t let yourself die before seeing Law finally exact the revenge he’s carried since childhood. You cling to the loathing and raw fury that fuels you, and a smile twists your lips.

“I’m not playing games.”

The King of Dressrosa pauses his assault and drops the man to the floor, his body tumbling like slime. “I’m glad. Neither am I.”

He faces you, sunglasses reflecting the sun shining through the windows. Behind him, the man’s soul exits his body and enters Seam. You hope he has a nice time there. 

A crash echoes from below, muffled by the palace's many levels, but neither of you moves. You lock eyes with him, and the way he runs his tongue over his teeth tells you everything—you’re confident no one has dared meet his gaze like this in a long time.

“Wanna tell me why you kidnapped me in the first place?”

“Fiesty.” He was having fun. Nobody has spoken to him like this before and gotten away with it.

You cock your head. 

“Not one for jokes, then,” Doflamingo sighs with a hint of humour. “You possess the Sew-Sew Fruit, correct?”

Nodding warily, you watch as he gestures with his hand. 

“There’s your answer.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Doflamingo pauses, almost dumbstruck. “You really don’t know what you are?”

“Clearly not.”

“Calm it with the fire, sweetheart.” 

You feel your body go numb, and suddenly, you feel like you’re floating outside of yourself. “Don’t call me that.”

Doflamingo smirks. “What? Sound familiar?” 

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t think Law would like that very much. Though, I’ve never cared what that brat likes.” 

You take a step back, gaze sweeping his body with disgust. “Are you done?”

“Who do you think is in control here, dollface? Because it sure as hell isn’t you.”

“I’m not fighting you.” 

“Smart.” 

A knock on the wide-open door draws you from your staring contest, and you swallow thickly. 

“Yes?”

“Young master, we’re here to deliver your package.” 

The thought of Law being treated like nothing more than a package ignites a searing rage inside you. Your lover sways unsteadily on his feet, clearly unconscious, as massive men drag him through the door. Sea-prism stone cuffs bite into his wrists so tightly that blood drips from his fingertips.

They throw him onto the throne, their hands moving swiftly to attach chains to his cuffs on either side of the chair. His head hangs limply, his body a dead weight. The sight twists something dark and cold in your gut.

“Pity. He’s not dead.” 

You’re too immersed in a state of shock to react to Doflamingo’s comment. What happened after Green Bit that could’ve led to this? 

He greets the newcomers with a casual nod—Baby 5 and Buffalo, both familiar from Punk Hazard. Doflamingo lets out a long sigh as he moves toward the chair opposite Law, stretching his arms high above his head before settling into the seat. You watch, tense, as he relaxes into the position: one leg crossed over the other, arms folded, head tilted in a way that suggests he’s ready for an interrogation—or at least, that's how it seems to you.

Doflamingo uses his strings to reel you in, his grip on you almost suffocating in possessiveness. You bite your lip, fighting back the surge of nausea. How dare he.

Law sits slumped, his hat missing and his clothes in tatters. Upon closer inspection, you see the skin of his stomach streaked with dried blood.

“Nice of you to join us, Law.”

Your eyes snap to his face, and your breath catches when his weary gaze locks with yours. It takes him a moment to register it’s you, and then he’s struggling against his restraints. You force yourself to bite your tongue, stopping yourself from doing something reckless.

“Let her go! This is between you and me!”

Doflamingo blinks, a slow, mocking grin stretching across his face. “Oh, I didn’t take her unwillingly. There were... conditions. I made that clear in front of the Colosseum.”

Law’s usually indifferent, half-lidded gaze is now sharp and wild as he scans your body. You seem unhurt, standing there unrestrained, but Law knows you too well. He knows exactly what Doflamingo must have said to make you comply, and he realises that tearing out his own heart without his power would hurt less than seeing you like this.

“Well, your conditions don’t mean anything, do they? I’m still here.”

You lunge forward, anger burning in your chest, hands poised to strike at Doflamingo. But before you can move, you stagger back, the strength of invisible strings pulling you against the wall. Law grunts, realising you are physically being controlled by Doflamingo.

With a low snarl, you glare at Doflamingo, focusing on the minuscule needles aimed at his eyes. He senses the danger, and with a flick of his index finger, he effortlessly swats the nearly invisible metal rods away from his face.

“Try that again, and Law dies. Got it?” 

Your lover looks up at you through his lashes, the blaze in his irises sparking brighter. “Don’t touch her.” 

Doflamingo smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Pathetic. You’ve become a fool, Law.” 

His breaths are ragged as he squirms in the chains. Law is losing his composure. “I will fucking kill you!”

Doflamingo lets out a low chuckle beside you, and Law shoots him a venomous glare.

"Don’t even look at her."

A whimper escapes you as the restraints tighten, and Doflamingo pulls you roughly in front of him. His eyes slide over your body, making you shiver with disgust.

“What are you gonna do if I do? Huh? Keep throwing empty threats at me?” He spins you around so you’re body is facing Law, and he drags a finger along your throat.  

Law huffs through his nose, his muscles straining as he tries to wrench the cuffs off his wrists. He grunts with pain, but the blood dripping from his skin doesn’t stop him from trying again. You focus on him, silently willing him to meet your gaze, to understand the message in your eyes—that everything will be okay.

When he finally looks at you, you inhale sharply, furrowing your brow in a silent promise: no matter what happens, you’ll both make it out of here alive. The unspoken exchange lingers between you briefly before Doflamingo clears his throat, breaking the tension.

“Enough.” The expression on Doflamingo's face indicates his disturbed attitude towards the connection between you and Law, and he stands. 

“Something wrong, Young Master?” Buffalo asks, oblivious to whatever understanding his master has of his two hostages. “Did you hear something?”

Doflamingo ignores him and approaches Law, his hands in his pockets. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, brat. I’m not about to let you mess this one up too.” 

Law scowls up at him, his lip curling. “You can’t control me anymore.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” The King laughs, his hand jerking quickly to draw you toward him. You stumble but catch yourself before you fall. “As long as I have her, you’re nothing but a slave.” 

Suddenly, a giant boulder comes out of nowhere, crashing from the left side of the room with a slick zing of a sword to lob off Doflamingo’s head. You stand there in awe and bewilderment as you see the blonde head tumble to the floor and bounce away. The scene before you is grisly and horrifying, but where you expect blood, there’s nothing. You blink in horror at the lack thereof, and your brain struggles to catch up to the present. 

There are screaming and guttural cries around you, but you stare at the stump where Doflamingo’s neck is—how is he still standing? 

Everything makes sense: how he flies, controls a body like a puppet, and can stand without a head… it all stems from the strings. The same strings that control the country’s citizens, the ones that held Law against the tree on Green Bit, and the ones that wrap around your waist to keep you compliant are controlled by Doflamingo. 

You gasp and turn, spotting a man battling Baby 5 and Buffalo. It wasn't a boulder after all, but a gladiator-clad figure who had just sliced Doflamingo’s head clean off his body—or, his fake body. Thinking fast, you conjure a needle and swiftly sever the strings binding you. A wave of relief washes over you as they drop to the floor.

Law watches you, his expression calm, though he knows exactly what you're planning. You rush toward him but halt abruptly, the sea prism cuffs sending a jolt of dread through you. "Shit."

"There’s no time," Law snaps, his voice laced with urgency, making the anxiety in your stomach spike. "Go while you still can."

“Like hell.”

“Traffy!” 

You let out a scoffing laugh, recognising that voice all too well. Luffy calls your name moments later, his smile stretching wider. His timing is, as always, perfect.

“You’re okay!”

“I am,” You reply, exhaling with relief. Your heart clenches at the sight of him, and for a brief moment, all you can wish for is that Luffy would scoop you and Law up and whisk you both away to some peaceful, far-off island.

A woman runs alongside Luffy, a key in her hand. Luffy grabs it from her and nearly tackles you in his rush. With Doflamingo’s headless body, his executives battling a gladiator, and you finally free from his grasp, Law sits frozen, overwhelmed by the commotion around him.

“How’re you here, Straw Hat?”

The key is shoved into your hands, Luffy shaking with anticipation. “Do it.” 

“Me?” You blink. “I can’t touch sea-prism stone either.”

“Did you destroy the factory?” Law side-eyes Luffy. 

“Why’s it always business with you?” Luffy asks, pouting. “What if I just wanted to save you guys?” 

Your hands tremble as you aim the key at the cuff's keyhole. Without touching them, you can’t unlock the cuffs properly. “I can’t do it.” 

“What if we—”

A chill spreads through your body like a bucket of ice water has been dumped directly over your head. A sinister laugh echoes through the room, and when your eyes lock with Law's, fear and alarm are evident in his gaze. You were right—it’s all connected to the strings.

The entire chamber goes deadly still, and then, instantly, you’re lifted into the air. Your legs flail, searching for something to land on. You hit the ground with a slide, landing on your feet, followed by Luffy and the woman. Law remains seated on the throne, which comes to a halt a few feet away, tossing him sideways onto the ground.

A stone pillar juts up from the floor, but before you can process where it came from, Doflamingo’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“That was a surprise.”

Luffy gasps before you do, but you’re too stunned to move.

“The whole country’s in chaos now that the toys are free.”

Toys? The word sends a jolt through you, and memories of the clown from when you were shopping for disguises flicker in your mind. You gape in shock as the realisation hits—it was a toy, not just a figment of your imagination.

“Tragic, really. I was having fun.”

You squint at Doflamingo’s body, the tendrils of string emerging from the base of his neck. 

Doflamingo’s head lets out a heavy sigh, a look of mock contemplation crossing his face. 

“Looks like I’ll have to use the Birdcage to get this under control.” His voice is smooth, almost casual.

Across the room, you hear a chair scrape against the floor, followed by the frantic sound of chains rattling. Law’s body thrashes against the restraints holding him in place. His eyes are wide with panic, his breath coming in short, keen gasps. 

“No! You can’t!” His voice cracks, raw and desperate.

Doflamingo’s eyes flick over to him, his expression unreadable as he raises a brow. "Oh? You seem concerned, Law. You remember, don't you?" 

Law’s chest heaves as he glares at the man before him, his usually composed demeanour wholly shattered. 

"You would subject innocents to this?" His voice is filled with disgust, and his tone’s an apparent tremor—a mix of dread and revulsion. 

Doflamingo’s lips curl into a cruel smile. 

“Nobody is truly innocent.” His tone is flat, devoid of empathy, as if he'd long abandoned any notion of moral boundaries. The words hang in the air, chilling in their certainty.

Law's face contorts with frustration. “You’re wrong,” He spits, the words thick with disdain. "Innocence isn't something you can just take from people, Doflamingo."

Before Doflamingo can respond, a figure steps forward from the shadows—the imposing gladiator, his muscles rippling beneath his armour. The man draws his sword fluidly, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. His face is set in a grim, determined expression.

“Enough!” the gladiator bellows, his voice booming with authority. Without hesitation, he leaps from his position, sword raised high as if preparing to charge. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the room brimming with the sense that everything is about to escalate into an uproar.

You watch the scene unfold, heart pounding, as Doflamingo’s smirk deepens into something more sinister. Law’s struggle intensifies, his body twisting and writhing in his chair.

The tension is unbearable, the calm before the storm.

Doflamingo materialises behind the gladiator, fully intact—no longer the headless phantom he once was. You blink, heart racing, a wave of horror washing over you. The sheer force of his power is palpable, and for a moment, you wonder if you could pull off the same technique. The thought lingers, both terrifying and fascinating.

A low, menacing growl rumbles from Doflamingo’s throat as he steps forward, his leg swinging from the right with a devastating force. 

“I’ll show you how to behead a man properly...” His words drip with malice, and before anyone can react, the room erupts into screams of terror. But just as Doflamingo’s leg is about to make contact, Luffy shoves the gladiator out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor, and plants himself between you and Doflamingo. The world feels like it shifts around you. Sunlight bursts through the cracks in the building, dancing on your skin, and when you glance up, the sky seems impossibly vast, stretching above you.

Your mind struggles to process what just happened. There’s no way a single kick could have taken the roof off a building.

You push the thought aside, focusing instead on the fight before you. Amid the rubble and mayhem, you sprint toward Law.

"It's no use," Law says, his voice strained, his eyes filled with frustration and helplessness. "You can't touch it..." His words are heavy, laced with a deep sense of defeat, and there's a desperate plea behind them. "Please, just leave."

Your breath catches in your throat. His face, normally composed, is filled with an urgency you can’t ignore. But there’s no time for hesitation.

"Where's your katana?" You ask quickly.

Law shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his teeth gritting in pain. "Don’t know—please, just leave."

You ignore his pleas, your focus honing in on getting him free. You search desperately around the space, looking for anything to help cut through the chains. But before you can find anything, a scream cuts through the air, a distinct cry of panic that stops you dead in your tracks.

Instinctively, you turn, your gaze snapping to the scene unfolding before you. Your voice catches, but it escapes, barely pushing through the rawness of your throat. 

"Luffy! There’s two!"

He looks up just in time to see two figures of Doflamingo descend upon him, one headless and the other fully intact. The sight is enough to make your blood run cold, but Luffy doesn't flinch. With a burst of speed, he rolls out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Seizing the brief moment of distraction, you face Law again, checking his condition. Your breath catches as your eyes fall on his abdomen.

“He shot you,” You gasp, your fingers trembling as they hover over the dried blood and bulletholes that mar his skin.

Law’s lips curl into a pained but rueful smile. “Three times.”

A billowing rage floods your chest, and your hands begin to shake, your anger threatening to overtake your thoughts. You clench your fists at your sides, barely holding back the venom in your voice. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” You mutter, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

Law’s gaze narrows, his voice low and calm but with a hard edge. “I will, for taking you away.”

You shake your head in disbelief, the intensity of the situation rendering an argument pointless. But before you can respond, an explosion of rock to your right makes you stumble, and you instinctively reach out for something to steady yourself.

A jagged spike from the shattered floor shoots upward, embedding itself into your calf. You cry out, the intense pain momentarily blinding you. It’s small, nothing you can’t handle—but just as you compose yourself, the ground beneath you shifts.

Once solid beneath your feet, the tiled floor begins to ripple, moving like water, sending waves of disorienting motion through the room. The world tilts as the ground you stand on seems alive, pulsating with someone’s power.

Your heart pounds. This is bad. Too bad. And it’s only going to get worse.

“I need to get you out of this,” You grit out, your jaw tight as you reach for Law’s forearm. The chair gives way beneath you, and apprehension sweeps through you. In one swift motion, you extend your hand, desperate to free him from the chains that bind him to the throne.

Threads of power shoot forward, wrapping tightly around the chains, constricting them. The tension in the air is suffocating, but your focus is razor-sharp as you glance toward Luffy and Doflamingo. They’re locked in combat, the two moving like a whirlwind of destruction, a brutal dance of fists and fury. You clench your hands, and the sound of metal ringing through the chaos is like a jolt to your senses.

With a sudden, determined jerk, Law breaks free, his body lurching forward despite the weakening effects of the sea prism stone. He stumbles against you, and you wrap your arms around him, supporting him the best you can. But the ground beneath your feet begins to shift again, the floor undulating like the surface of water, and you brace yourself as the room shakes violently.

Before you can fully react, the palace tilts. Gravity pulls at you both, and with a sickening lurch, you tumble, dragged by the chaotic motion. The wind slashes at your face like knives, the world a blur of spinning rock and dust.

You grip Law tighter, but his weight is too much. He’s slipping. You can feel it—his body going limp in your arms, the lack of strength in his limbs a grim reminder of the toll the sea prism stone has taken on him.

I can't carry him, you think, not like this, not without help.

Desperation surges through you as you fight against the pull of the mountain, your hands shaking as you try to keep him upright. 

Luffy yells above you, his body flying toward you. The gladiator’s sword flashes as he falls past you, and the realisation hits immediately. The tiles beneath you give way, and you scream as you drop toward the ground. Law yells something, but his words are drowned out by the rush of wind in your ears before he slips. You watch with horror as Law plummets ahead of you, a strangled cry leaving your throat.

Just as you’re about to crash into the solid ground, Luffy expands, and you land with a jolt on his stomach. It happens so quickly that you can barely process it, but you're grateful for the soft landing. You groan as you sit up, tears streaking down your cheeks and adrenaline blurring your vision. No one speaks—no mention of Luffy’s ability or that you all nearly fell to your death. Instead, everyone’s gaze is fixed upward, staring at the sky in stunned silence.

You don't care what Doflamingo is doing now. All that matters is getting to Law. You crawl over to him, and his eyes flick over you with a curt intensity, his gaze locking on the gash in your leg—a deep, jagged cut from the pointed rock that had impaled your calf.

“I can stitch it up,” You murmur, your hands trembling slightly as you cup his face. It’s not the most reassuring of statements, but it's the best you can offer now.

His frown deepens, his brows furrowing in that way you know all too well. The silver of his eyes flickers with concern, even as his tone remains steady, though laced with frustration. “It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it out first—”

“Law,” You cut him off, your laugh breathy and strained. You don’t have the energy for an entire conversation right now.

Luffy groans beneath you, his body deflating like a balloon, and you roll off him, helping Law to his feet with a quick but careful movement.

Law blinks at you, his breath catching as he stands on shaky legs. “It’s starting.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you follow his gaze, dread pooling in your stomach. 

Above you, the sky begins to twist. 

Strings. 

Hundreds of them, thin as silk, fan out in every direction, their glowing ends weaving together at a central point directly overhead. The air grows thick and heavy with the impending doom, and the calm summer day is suddenly replaced by a storm cloud gathering ominously above you. It’s as if the Gods themselves are bracing for what’s coming.

That’s the Birdcage.

“Traffy!” Luffy yells suddenly, his voice full of urgency and confusion as he runs toward you, his eyes wild. “What’s the Birdcage? What does it mean?”

Law’s eyes widen with something you’ve only seen a handful of times in the two years you’ve been with him. The last time was when you were shot on Hachinosu when poison coursed through your veins and left you unconscious for eight days. He displays such uncharacteristic, raw emotion that your heart skips a beat, suddenly gripped by the weight of what it could mean.

“It means he’s going to kill everyone in Dressrosa.”

You swallow hard, words failing you for a moment. The Birdcage isn’t just a cage; it’s a trap. 

The group gasps, the woman whimpering as she looks at the gladiator. They exchange a quiet, wordless conversation, and you avert your gaze, giving them space. Luffy, however, locks his eyes on Law, his lip curling in frustration.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you suddenly feel a tug along your spine. It’s subtle like someone gently testing the tension.

Law immediately senses your discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s still got me,” You whisper, and from the way Law’s jaw tightens, he understands precisely what you mean. “Luffy, where’s that key?”

“Uh…” Luffy pats his clothes, scanning the ground. “I gave it to you.”

You freeze, trepidation rising in your throat. “Shit, I must’ve dropped it.”

Law curses under his breath, pulling at his restraints in vain. It’s no use.

Suddenly, your body jerks and you instinctively reach behind you to grab the string. Your name rings out from the mountain, Doflamingo’s voice echoing like a twisted melody. He sings it, dripping with cruel, sadistic pleasure.

Your feet leave the ground, but you fight against the pull, driving a needle into the earth to anchor yourself. Law’s gaze is wild, his eyes locked on Doflamingo as he toys with you.

“We have to go!” The woman yells, nearly tripping as she starts to run. The deafening crack of stone makes you flinch, and a massive shadow looms overhead, casting its dark presence over you and the country below.

“I’m not leaving,” Law growls, his voice steady with resolve. “You guys go ahead.”

You watch as the gladiator and Luffy hesitate, their eyes wide, bulging with shock at the sight above you.

Law gives you a stern look, but you urgently shake your head. "Law, go."

"Like hell."

He throws your words back at you, and you clench your jaw in frustration. "Law—"

Doflamingo roars again; his voice laced with a deadly promise. The venom and wrath in his tone send a chill down your spine as he urges you to stop resisting the pull of the string. You’re yanked forward, a puppet under his command, but you manage to attach a thread to the ground, pulling yourself back toward Law.

“Trafalgar, go.”

He ignores your command, his voice laced with defiance. "No."

You yelp as it feels like your spine is being torn from your body. Doflamingo’s rage pulses down the string, and you shove Law away, desperate to protect him. 

"Go!" You plead, your voice shaky, almost desperate. "Go with them, please!"

Law’s brow furrows, confusion and concern flickering across his face as he meets your frantic gaze. "No! I’m not leaving you here!"

You grab hold of the fabric of his coat, your hands shaking, fingers digging into the material as if you could hold onto him forever. 

"You have to!" Your voice cracks with the effort it takes for you to say it. "If Doflamingo gets to you again, if he kills you—if I lose you, I—" The words catch in your throat.

Law's eyes soften for a split second, but then his voice comes out strained, raw, like he's trying to hold it together, too. 

"No... No way in hell I'm leaving you," His gaze shifts away, and when it comes back to you, there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—determination laced with acceptance. He knows you can handle yourself. You hadn’t been training with him for two years for nothing. 

"You better not fucking die," He spits out, his voice thick with emotion. "You have to come back to me. You hear me?"

Your heart twists painfully, and you pull him closer, your forehead pressing against his. The warmth of his skin against yours is the only thing that feels real right now. 

"I’ll never not come back to you," You whisper fiercely, your words a vow, a promise etched into every fibre of your being. "You have my word."

For a moment, neither of you speak. The chaos around you fades into the background as you hold each other, the storm raging inside your chest more painful than anything the outside world could throw at you.

“Hurry up!” the gladiator yells, his voice pulling you away from Law, snapping you back to the destruction around you. 

Luffy takes a step forward but freezes when your eyes meet. His eyes are full of concern, something you rarely see in the gaze of someone so carefree. You offer him a smile, though it's shaky.

"I’ll be fine, Luffy," You reassure him, the words slipping out with more confidence than you feel.

"But we just got you back!" Luffy protests, his voice tight with panic. "I’m not letting him lay another finger on you!"

You swallow hard, fighting to keep your tears in check. "I’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, alright?"

Luffy’s eyes narrow, his face a mask of determination, but you can see the storm brewing underneath. He doesn’t want to let go.

You meet his gaze, steadying your breath. "Please, Luffy. We can’t fight him right now."

Luffy huffs, frustration flickering across his face, but after a long beat, he nods once, his jaw set. "See you soon."

You turn back to Law, your heart heavy. A lump forms in your throat, and you blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears threatening to spill. 

"I’ll see you soon, too, okay?" You whisper, but it’s barely audible.

"I love you," Law mutters, his voice hoarse, his chest rising and falling as he breathes raggedly. The words are heavy like he’s trying to say everything at once, and it hits you harder than expected. You push him gently toward Luffy, your hands trembling.

"I love you," You repeat, your voice breaking. "Now, go!"

Luffy catches him quickly, his strong arms wrapping around Law’s body like a vice. With one last glance at you, Luffy carries him away, moving swiftly, but you’re left standing there, your heart in your throat.

The tears you’ve held back finally break free, but you can’t look away. You won’t look away.

Your body is yanked upward when you release the thread, your limbs hanging limply as you cry. You watch Luffy run off with Law, wishing you were anywhere but here—somewhere safe, warm, surrounded by everyone you love. The desire for peace, for something ordinary, washes over you. But you were born to be a pirate, and your cries cease. 

You stay with Doflamingo, not because you want to, but because he seems to know more about you than you do yourself—and that’s something you can’t allow.

— Scene 2 —

You’re sick with trepidation. Night has fallen, and the strings of Doflamingo’s Birdcage glitter under the full moon. He sits across from you, stabbing his fork into the medium-rare steak on the plate before him. You decided to forego dinner, feeling far too queasy to stomach anything. 

“When’d you eat the Sew-Sew Fruit?”

You control your breathing, calming yourself from both anger and fear. “When I was seven.” 

Doflamingo’s eyebrow arches, and he bites the steak off his fork, the metal scraping his teeth. “And you still haven’t awakened your true power?” 

Curiosity outweighs caution. “No.”

He hums. “Would you like me to teach you?” 

Your muscles tense under your skin, and your heart rate increases so rapidly that you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears. 

“Our abilities are intertwined, you see,” Doflamingo says when you take too long to answer. “But your power is unlike anything on this planet. Have you heard of the legends they call Dreamweavers?” 

Your head shake is slight, and he takes it as a sign to continue. The clink of his metal fork on the ceramic plate jolts you from your thoughts, and you breathe deeply as he prepares his speech. 

“Devil Fruits embody humanity’s evolutionary potential, with each power representing a distinct path for the future. Born from humanity's collective hope and ambition, they are a tangible manifestation of what we could become.”

You recall hearing this story in your grandfather’s library as a child, though you’d long forgotten it since his death. Devil Fruits had been one of his greatest passions, something he obsessed over. When he finally acquired one, he gave it to you, his most prized possession. It had been his life's single greatest achievement, and he entrusted it to you, asking you to eat and wield it. You smile softly at the memory.

“There were three original rulers at the dawn of time: The Dreamer, The Monarch, and The Reaper. One to blend dreams with reality, one to rule over the seas, and one to govern life and death. That’s how they lived. That’s how they thrived.”

It strikes you as strange that Doflamingo speaks so openly, with no venom or mockery. You don’t know much about his past, but somehow, you get the sense that if he’d been raised in an environment devoid of cruelty and ambition, he might’ve been a very different person—a far more pleasant one.

“Following?” He asks, his dinner now forgotten on his plate. The sight of untouched food causes a flare of irritation in your stomach. Sanji would have a fit if he saw this.

You nod, rolling your shoulders and propping your chin in your palm, trying to seem casual about his strange demeanour.

“Nobody knows what happened during the Void Century, but it’s been theorised that a revolt, now known as the Celestial Dragons or the World Nobles, overthrew the Big Three, rendering the world a hopeless, war-torn hell hole.”

The upset and surprise are evident on your face, but Doflamingo pays no mind—you know he revels in the misfortune of others. There’s a nagging piece of information about the World Nobles that Law told you about Doflamingo that you struggle to remember. 

“The Dreamers were beheaded, their ideals and prophecies branded as blasphemy and forbidden. The Monarchs were slaughtered, their weapons far less advanced than the Celestial Dragons. The Reapers were sentenced to eternity underground, where even the brightest light couldn’t penetrate. It was a fate worse than death.

“From their deaths, the Devil Fruits were born. The people of the four seas, lost and enslaved, clung to the ideals they inherited—the ones foretold by The Dreamers. The hatred for the World Nobles and the hope that their reign would one day end fueled the creation of the Fruits. This very defiance gave them life, allowing humanity to fight back.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” You ask, your throat dry. 

Doflamingo smirks and lifts his head from where it leans on his palm. “You’re a Dreamer.” 

You scoff, pushing yourself halfway out of the chair. “You’re delusional. You just said they all died out.”

Before you can fully rise, strings shoot out from his fingers, wrapping around your wrists like chains. They yank you back into the seat with an unyielding force, pinning you to the chair.

“You don’t get it,” Doflamingo says, his voice low and cold, as if explaining something obvious. “Your Devil Fruit is the direct descendant of a Dreamer. The Sew-Sew Fruit was created as a way to continue the practice of weaving reality with fantasy or dreams. You defy the Celestial Dragons every second you’re alive.” 

Then it hits you what Law said about the World Nobles: how the Donquixote family were considered Celestial Dragons, and then they lost their privileges when Doflamingo’s father wished for a normal life… Your lip curls, the bitterness rising like acid in your throat. 

“And you want to use me for what? Some kind of revenge plot?”

Doflamingo’s smirk shifts, dark satisfaction shining in his eyes as if amused by your defiance. “You’re a smart one. Law doesn’t deserve someone like you—someone so far beyond his reach.”

The words hit you harder than you’d like to admit. You swallow thickly, your heart heavy in your chest. "When you said I could be a god..."

The thought lingers between you, and you can see the twisted mirth in Doflamingo's eyes like he's savouring the moment. “You could be more than a god. You could reshape the world, bend it to your will.”

A chill runs down your spine.

“You can control the minds and thoughts of everyone across the four seas,” Doflamingo continues, his voice dripping with malice. “You can create entire false realities that people will live in as though they’re true. Weaving dreams into the fabric of reality—it's what your Devil Fruit was made for. You’re the last of the Dreamers.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you take a moment to steady yourself. Who’s to say whether or not he’s telling the truth? Doflamingo is a master manipulator, a liar who thrives on controlling others. This could easily be another of his twisted games—getting you to unlock your power only so he can use it for his own ends.

But then, Law’s face flashes in your mind. The way he spoke on Punk Hazard, his words were heavy with something you didn’t fully understand then. “I’ve heard of legends with the same name.”

That strange surge of power stirs inside you again, stronger now, urging you to act. You yank your wrists free from the chair, the strings Doflamingo had bound you with snapping quickly under the force of your will. His smirk deepens, watching you with a mixture of pleasure and dark anticipation.

As you stand, the chair screeches against the tiles, its sound jarring in the room's silence.

“Leaving so soon?” Doflamingo taunts, leaning back with a lazy air like he’s entirely in control. “You’re going to take all that juicy information I gave you and not even thank me?” He lets his tongue flick out, brushing the gap in his grin, his amusement evident.

You tense, your hands curling into fists, and despite the disorganisation of your thoughts, something inside you cements. He’s not going to win this. 

“I’m not killing Celestial Dragons for you. I won’t let you hone me into your personal weapon just because you told me some fairytale.”

Doflamingo tilts his head, his grin morphing into something far more sinister. The veins in his forehead pulse, a telltale sign of his growing frustration. 

"Why would I go through all this trouble to bring you here and then lie to you?" He sneers, his voice low and chilling. "You're special. I'm trying to help you."

You narrow your eyes, unfazed by his theatrics. 

"And what about your power?" You retort. "You use strings to control others."

"That's where we're different," He says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at your question. "I control people with my strings, but your power creates entire mindscapes, places where people live—spanning across the four seas. Your ability doesn’t drain you; mine does. You were made to weave dreams into reality, to rule the world. You're more powerful than you realise, and even I don’t fully understand the extent of it. The Dreamers kept much of their knowledge hidden."

"I don’t want to rule the world," You say firmly.

"Yet," Doflamingo mutters, his voice dripping with condescension.

You shake your head, unwavering. "I don’t."

His expression darkens. "You're selfish. Ungrateful. Do you know how many lives you could save with your power?"

"Save?" You let out a sharp, humourless laugh. "You don’t want to save anyone. You only dream of a world where you hold all the strings, where death and destruction are the price for your sick version of control."

His face hardens momentarily, but without missing a beat, his scowl fades into a twisted grin. "Yeah, you're right."

You crash into the wall, the impact force stealing the breath from your lungs. Doflamingo approaches, his fingers curling and weaving in the air with a sinister grace. Your mind struggles to process what's happening, still disoriented from the surprise of his power coiling around you and pulling you backward.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll have to force you. Do you want that?”

You grit your teeth, and your jaw hurts with how hard you tense. “Fuck you.” 

“That’s all you seem to say to me,” He chuckles darkly, leaning his face close to yours. Doflamingo is so close you can see the strings moving under his pores. “But I need you to work with me here. I need to destroy the Celestial Dragons.” 

“Not gonna happen,” You spit before stabbing him between the shoulder blades with a needle. Doflamingo keels over, and you take the opportunity to get away from the wall. Blood swells from the puncture and drips down the feathers of his pink coat. 

"Bitch," He mutters under his breath. You gasp for air, sprinting toward the door, but the wood splinters into chunks before you can reach it. Skidding to a halt, you whip around, only to find Doflamingo’s clawed hand pointed directly at you. “Strings.”

Turning your focus inward, you activate your Observation Haki. Time seems to stretch as five metallic strings streak toward your torso. You pivot to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack. Each time you dodge, another string is sent flying in your direction. You can’t waste energy fighting him head-on—not when you know you’ll lose.

“Fight back,” Doflamingo growls, his frustration growing with every evasive move you make. He closes the distance between you, his attacks becoming more rapid and precise. You wince as a string slices across your shoulder, but you force yourself to keep moving.

The palace begins to shake. At first, you don’t understand why, but then it becomes clear—Doflamingo is the cause. He bares his teeth at you, pausing his assault for a moment, and that’s when you feel it—tendrils of string weaving into your mind. Without hesitation, you rip them out with Seam Ripper, a technique you mastered a year ago when a pirate with the Persuasion-Persuasion Fruit attacked the Polar Tang.

“Fight me!”

You glare at him, your hands clenched at your sides. "Why? So you can taste my power and figure out how to control me?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, the movement stiff thanks to the needle lodged in his back.

You pause, taking a breath, considering your next move. A manic smirk slowly pulls at the corners of your lips. “What do you say, Doflamingo? Ready to have some fun?”

He chuckles lowly, his twisted grin mirroring yours. “Finally, a worthy opponent.”

Your eyebrow arches, and you fling your arm out. Threads, woven into a tight rope, whip out to sweep Doflamingo off his feet, but just as quickly, his own ropes send you flying to the side.

You sniffle, a thought flashing through your mind—maybe your abilities are more intertwined than you realise.

“Bullet String.”

The pellets ricochet off the needle you wield like a sword. Your movements are fluid and precise—if someone from the outside were watching, they’d mistake you for a swordswoman. You silently thank Zoro for drilling the motions into you over the years.

You press forward, matching his attack with your own. “Darts.”

The battle rages on, both of you exchanging strikes, dodging, weaving, and countering with perfect synchronicity. It's a standoff—an even match.

You gulp down a breath, your lungs burning as you round a corner of the palace, the fight spilling out of the chamber when Doflamingo reveals his Excess String Whip.

Your head hurts with the stamina you’ve used, and you feel the effects of not using Seam in your hands. With a definitive, fragmented sigh and a burning urgency to end this and get back to Law, you position yourself in the hallway, waiting for Doflamingo to close the distance. Blood slides down the side of your face, and you wipe it away with your shoulder, smearing it along your skin. 

“You can’t hide,” A sing-song, ragged voice taunts. “I will defeat you, Dreamweaver.”

You bite your lip, his words only spurring you on. “We’ll see about that.”

Without waiting to face him, you summon Seam.

Your body aches when he enters, his pure, unadulterated power already clawing at the walls of your mindscape. You scream as you collapse to the floor, your hands squeezing the sides of your head. 

There’s a faraway crash, but you ignore it to concentrate on keeping Doflamingo’s soul inside you. 

Your name cuts through the foggy pain reverberating in your skull. You strain your eyes, trying to bring the figures in front of you into focus, but they remain distorted, shadows dancing just out of reach. You think you're screaming—an agonising, blood-curdling scream that forces the two figures back, hands clutching their ears in desperation. Tears pour from your closed eyes, and blood streams from your ears; the white-hot power of the man’s soul inside you wreaks havoc. 

A touch comes, someone trying to lift you from the floor, but they recoil instantly, your skin burning too hot to bear.

Your throat is raw, searing with every breath, but you know it’s time. And with a final, desperate breath, you enter Seam.

— Scene 3 —

It’s eerily quiet when you appear, the world around you a vast stillness, interrupted only by the crash of distant waves. The air is thick with salt, stinging your nose, but you push it aside. Doflamingo sits some distance away, his fingers threading through the blades of grass, lost in his thoughts.

You don’t move to attack him, instead standing behind him, watching. The chirp of birds passes overhead, their flight a gentle reminder of something once familiar, something that hurts to remember.

“Is this your mindscape?” He asks, his voice slicing through the silence.

“Yes,” You respond, your tone cool.

The feeling here differs from the usual pull of Seam, but you can't tell if it's unsettling or calming. Seeing Doflamingo, a monster who now taints your thoughts and memories, sitting so casually in your mind makes your stomach churn. The images of what he’s done to Law, Dressrosa, and the other nameless people who now live in his shadow burn you with disgust.

Law’s words echo in your mind but do nothing to quell the hate rising within you. The emotions collide—hate, revulsion, and a quiet, simmering fury. The mix churns beneath your skin as you study the man before you, wondering how much further you'll have to go to make him pay.

In the end, you’re seething, each breath coming faster and harder. “You deserve everything that’s coming for you.”

Doflamingo doesn’t even bother to turn around, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “So you can see the future?”

You step forward, the words barbed. “No, not the future. Just what I’m going to do to you.”

Before Doflamingo can move, you focus on the back of his head, your mind swirling with something ancient and unwelcome. The words slip from your lips like an instinct, more felt than thought, the word slipping free before you can stop it.

"Eyelet."

You’ve never ventured into someone else’s mind before—not like this. You’ve only ever existed within Seam, a realm born of your own memories. But this—this is different. Doflamingo’s consciousness feels like a cold, jagged thing, cruel and suffocating, and the skin on your body prickles under its intensity.

Your senses flare as you absorb the full force of what you’ve unleashed. This power is vast, far darker than anything you’ve touched before. It feels like a shadow of something you’ve long forgotten, something that the voices once whispered to you about, teaching you to wield it with cautious reverence. But now? It feels like part of you—a second skin that fits in ways you hadn’t imagined until now.

Indifferent, you remain still, allowing the new, raw power to wash over you. 

“She’s awakened.” 

“The Dreamweaver has returned.” 

“Welcome, young one. We’ve been expecting you.”

Feminine voices surround you, their whispers caressing you like a soft breeze, warm and gentle. A smile tugs at your lips as you feel their presence, and slowly, you open your eyes.

You find yourself standing in the ruins of a house, its decay a reflection of the destruction within. The bed is a mess, drenched in unspeakable filth, and the air is thick with the stench of rot and hopelessness. Every instinct screams at you to flee, but fear paralyses you, making it impossible to breathe freely.

In the corner, a small boy curls up, his face buried in his knees as he sobs in agony. Though his features are familiar, resembling Doflamingo in a way that twists your stomach, you know, deep in your bones, that this is not him. There is something pure about how he cries—innocent in a way Doflamingo never was.  

Without warning, the door crashes open, and another figure enters. This one, unmistakably Doflamingo, strides into the room with the same arrogance you’ve come to associate with him, even at his current age. His glasses gleam in the dim light, and his presence fills the room with a suffocating sense of authority.

“Get up!” He commands, his voice harsh, the words dripping with disdain as they land on the boy. Your heart clenches when you realise that the child on the floor is none other than Corazon, his face streaked with tears and his hair matted to his forehead. The contrast between the two is striking, and the moment's violence weighs heavily on you.

Doflamingo’s following words are chilling. “Stop crying, he deserved it.” His voice cracks like the snap of a whip, and the cruelty in it hangs in the air.

Still shaken, Corazon lifts his head, his face red from emotion and pain. His voice is quiet but full of desperation. “But why?”

The eldest Donquixote child scoffs, stomping towards him with the same disdain he carries now, a gun dangling carelessly in his small, trembling hands.

The scene before you fades, its bitter hatred dissolving into the ether. This isn't the memory you need.

Another materialises in its place—a young child wearing the same patterned hat Law always wears. He looks up at Doflamingo, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bear to watch this.

Just a boy, Trafalgar Law stands there with a fierce scowl, hurling his small body against the towering man’s legs. Around his waist are dozens of grenades, each one wrapped in a dull khaki green. "Let me in!"

Doflamingo scoffs, his gangly form looming over the child. "Not a chance, brat. Get lost."

Law’s face morphs into something unreadable, and before you can process it, the door slams in his face. He stands frozen, staring at the wooden panel, his heart sinking at the stark reality—he’s unwanted, unwelcome. Alone.

He stumbles away, fighting back the tears, as he trudges down the grimy stairwell into the waste processing plant, swallowed by despair.

At that moment, the hatred you feel for Doflamingo crystallises into something darker and more dangerous. You lift your arm, your movement fluid, and a new memory plays before you. A cruel satisfaction fills you as you make your choice, knowing this is the memory that will hurt Doflamingo more deeply than any before it.

His soul thrashes violently within the confines of Seam, shaking the very core of your being. Doflamingo’s Haki-infused strings press against your mind, sharp as daggers, their relentless pressure threatening to tear through the walls of your consciousness.

The same voices you heard earlier whisper to you again, guiding you with soft, melodic tones, their words like a balm to the chaos swirling within you. They gently walk you through extracting the memory from Doflamingo’s mind, showing you how to pull it into reality.

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice tight with anxiety and your stomach churning with unease. You hesitate, your hands shaking as you halt the process, the air heavy with the question.

“We are the Dreamers of time past. You are our descendant, chosen to consume the Sew-Sew Fruit and restore balance alongside The Monarchs and The Reapers. You are the saviour of this world.”

Your throat tightens as you struggle to swallow the lump forming there. “But I don’t want to rule.”

“There is no need to wish for power,” they reply, their voices soft and understanding. “You are one of us—someone who hopes for the best for others and desires nothing for herself. We bear no ill will toward you for not seeking dominion. But time is of the essence. You must hurry the extraction; the man you harbour within you is far too dangerous.”

A screeching, hollow sound echoes in your mind when they depart, but you ignore it, focusing on your task. With a swift motion, you pull yourself free from his mind. As you return to Seam, Doflamingo’s pale face stares back at you, his eyes wide and full of disbelief.

“What did you just do?” His voice is laced with fear and fury, but it doesn’t rattle you like it once would have. Beneath his arrogant mask, you see him for what he really is—a boy given too much power too soon, thrust into a world that demanded cruelty over compassion.

You don’t pity him. But you do feel a deep, sorrowful sadness. When you look into Doflamingo’s eyes, hidden behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you don’t see a man but a child—one who was placed on a pedestal and taught to wield power for destruction, surrounded by people who saw weakness as something to be stamped out, never nurtured. He’s a product of a broken system, raised to carry on the twisted legacy of the Celestial Dragons. Whether it’s tragic that he failed is irrelevant—you’re not here to play Gods.

With a deep sigh, you leave Seam, taking his soul with you.

Doflamingo’s body jerks as he’s violently pulled back into himself. He gasps, his anger flaring as he shoots you a venomous glare. “You little—”

Before he can finish, the words slip from your mouth without thinking. You don’t know where they came from nor what they fully mean, but they feel natural. They feel right.

“Binding and Stitch.”

Your mindscape bleeds into the material world, the scene seamlessly overlapping with the palace hallway. Doflamingo blinks, his confusion turning to dawning realisation as he senses the shift behind him.

His mouth opens and closes as his eyes fall on the fire, the brick wall, the deep crimson stains of blood, and the iron shackles—memories he tried so hard to bury. “No…”

Doflamingo’s voice falters as the raw, jagged edge of the memory snaps shut, locking it into the space around him. The scene solidifies. It’s a frighteningly beautiful thing, and the power thrumming through you makes your skin hum with exhilaration. There’s a gnawing hunger for more.

“Pin.”

With a keen snap, Doflamingo vanishes from the ground and reappears, pinned high against the wall. His curses echo in the air, his iron shackles rattling, but you don’t flinch.

The voices of the women in your ears sing praises, urging you to unleash more, to continue the assault. But you remain unmoved, standing still as Doflamingo’s defiance and rage bounce harmlessly off your calm, unyielding focus.

As expected, the shackles shatter almost immediately, and Doflamingo’s hand shoots out in a blur of savagery.

“How dare you?” He spits, his voice seething with venom. Razor-sharp strings whistle through the air, their edges a hair’s breadth from your neck. The memory replays in the room, the screams of children flooding your senses, and dizziness pulls you into its dance. Blood pricks your skin like ice, and you shut your eyes tight, trying to block it out. “You think this is funny, huh?”

“Binding and Stitch,” You murmur, the words laced with raw power. White-hot energy lashes out, searing the skin of your neck as the cords of Doflamingo’s strings tighten.

The world tilts, and your vision blurs as a fierce white flash erupts behind your eyes. Another memory erupts, pulling you deeper into its grip. The room is heavy with dread and bitter resentment, the fading embers of an inflated superiority complex thickening the air with suffocating smoke. The ground beneath you trembles, the polished tiles warping into grimy cobblestones, shifting with the tremors of a long-forgotten trauma.

“Father! What are they doing?” 

Doflamingo freezes, his face draining of colour. His lips press into a thin, tense line as his gaze shifts quickly to the right.

“Stay calm,” Donquixote Homing orders, his voice laced with apprehension. “Take Rosinante and lock yourselves in the house. Quickly.”

“But, Father—”

“World Noble scum!” 

A rock, the size of a man’s fist, hurtles through the air, striking the child and sending him sprawling to the ground. Donquixote Doflamingo pushes himself up on his elbows, a steady stream of bright red blood spilling from his temple. Another stone slams into the cobblestones beside him, followed by another. Then, a shower of pebbles and larger rocks pelt a father and his son, rendering their pride irreparable. 

“You deserve to die!”

“I heard they live on top of the hill! Burn it!”

Flames lick the palace's ceiling, and Doflamingo’s grip around your neck loosens. 

“They’re burning down the mansion!” 

“I hope they’re still inside!” 

The Donquixote family stumbles down the steps of their burning house, the wood cracking and metal warping as the flames consume everything behind them. A woman with an intricate braid, the strands of her hair barely holding together, presses a small boy tightly to her chest. Donquixote Rosinante clings to his mother’s shirt with desperate strength, as if his very survival depends on it—and perhaps it does. His eyes are swollen and red, his face streaked with the remnants of tears and sheer terror. The eldest Donquixote son hides his emotions beneath a mask of silence, his heart stewing with profound and unsettling darkness, honing it into a weapon he will eventually unleash on the world. His young mind processes the entropy around him in ways no child should.

“Stop…”

"Interfacing." You move like a shadow, spinning a labyrinth of thread. The sheets you create stretch as tall as the ceiling, as wide as the walls, as strong as the thickest metal in all four seas—an inescapable barrier.

You sprint down the hallway, heart pounding. You only have a little time. Doflamingo won’t stay contained for long. Soon, he’ll be hunting you again, relentlessly.

A door slams open ahead, and you duck to the side just as figures rush from the stairwell, pausing for a split second before giving chase. You push yourself harder, dodging and weaving through the narrow corridors. Every corner blurs into the next, every hallway the same, and the sound of footsteps pounding behind you grows louder closer. You throw attacks desperately to slow them down—prompt, precise strikes, but there’s no time to stay and fight.

Hey! Stop!”

You flinch as a bullet zips past your ear, its shrill whistle still ringing in your head. Instinctively, you activate your Observation Haki to anticipate the next shot.

But you’re interrupted when you sense a Devil Fruit user nearby, their presence suffocating.

The overwhelming force of their power presses in on you like you’re being crushed under an invisible hand. You strain to pinpoint their location, but they’re everywhere. In the walls. The floor. The very air around you. 

“Pica.”

Though the name rings a bell, it's faint, barely a whisper in the back of your mind. The face of the person who said it is a blur, but you recall a massive, terrifying figure breaking through the ground in the chamber where Doflamingo held Law captive.

You piece it together—like your own, it’s a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit. You sift through your knowledge of Devil Fruits and their weaknesses. The two years with Law were spent training and learning about the many different fruits, some useful and some deadly. The knowledge is proving more valuable than ever.

Suddenly, the cobblestones beneath you begin to crack and give way. Before you can react, the ground collapses beneath your feet, and you’re falling, only barely managing to catch yourself on the level below.

You scan the area, relieved to see the people following you remain unaffected by the Devil Fruit user’s power; it gives you the edge you need to make your escape.

Ahead, double doors swing open to reveal a balcony. You push through them, skidding to a halt, when you catch sight of the drop. The wind howls in your face, stinging your skin as you squint to get a better look. Below, the city sprawls far beneath you. The palace perches precariously on a jagged rock, its foundations slanted at an unnatural angle as if defying gravity itself.

Your heart drops when you spot the Birdcage. Its metallic threads are shrinking like a noose around the island. You watch in horror as buildings are sliced to pieces, their shattered remains falling to the streets below. Citizens scream in fright, some crushed, others mutilated by the unrelenting power. The carnage is just beginning—only the outermost areas are being affected for now.

Doflamingo must have finally escaped the maze of threads. And now, the island is in turmoil.

With little hesitation, fueled by a surge of courage, you wrap a thread around your waist, leaving just enough slack for a rope to slip through. Your eyes dart nervously down the hallway, ensuring no one is watching as you toss another strand over the edge, letting it drop as far as it will go. Carefully, you thread the end of the long strand through the web of threads at your waist, securing it to a needle.

Climbing over the railing with shaky hands, you crouch down and stab the floor with the needle, imbuing all the Armament Haki you can into it to keep it stable. The stone cracks with the force, and when you wiggle it, it stays in place. 

You don’t dare look back at the sheer drop behind you, the nerves tightening your chest, making it hard to focus. But the thought of Doflamingo catching you in such a vulnerable position is enough to propel you forward. Without hesitation, you push off the edge of the balcony.

Coating your hands with Haki, the purple sheen shimmering under the full moon’s light, you descend the long thread. The wind dies down, and you’re left with only the sound of your breath and the city below. With each slow movement, the pain of distant screams grows louder and harsher, as though the suffering in the streets is chasing you down.

The palace groans, a deep rumble vibrating through the thread. Your grip tightens, but the adrenaline dulls the anxiety that would usually freeze you in place. The sounds of shouts and breaking glass rise from the palace as it starts to collapse. You focus on the thread beneath your feet, inching closer to the ground, and when your feet finally hit the street, a violent tremor shakes the rock beneath you. 

You pull away from the thread and sever it from your waist. You need to find someone who can help you. You need to see Luffy and Law.

— Scene 4 —

Civilians scatter around you, frantic cries and desperate prayers filling the air. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, each step a blur. The only thought consuming you is the desperate need to find Law and Luffy. 

But you’re distracted; the screams around you only focus on a colossal man destroying the city. You finally choose to look, and when you do, your heart skips a beat when you see the figure clearly—a massive stone giant attacking the skies as if trying to catch something—or someone. Squinting, you spot the figure attacking back— a swordsman, three blades flashing in the moonlight as he cleaves the stone into chunks.

A gasp escapes your lips, and you sprint toward the battle, cutting through the sea of panicked people gathering in the centre of the Birdcage. Some try to push you back, telling you you're going the wrong way, but you shove them off without breaking stride. 

Zoro moves with the precision and power of a force of nature, his every motion fluid and controlled. His black blades slice through the stone like paper, each strike sending debris flying. There’s no hesitation, no wasted effort—just raw, unrelenting precision. With every swing, the ground trembles, and the air ripples from the force of his speed. The once-solid stone crumbles beneath him, a testament to his honed skill and dedication.

You watch in awe, a swell of pride rising in your chest. This is the result of two years of gruelling training. Zoro’s mastery is on full display, and you can’t help but feel emotional when you see how far he’s come.

"Zoro!" You shout, your voice cutting through the turmoil. A lump forms in your throat, but you push it down, your heart swelling with pride. Your friend has grown beyond what you thought possible, and it fills you with both awe and a tinge of nostalgia.

As you push through the crowd, the chaos seems to slow, but Zoro remains focused, every movement an extension of his purpose. Despite the destruction around him, you catch a slight smirk tugging at his lips, a flicker of mirth in his eyes as they meet yours.

“I’ll be a sec, just have to drop this guy,”

The words catch you off guard momentarily, and a tiny laugh bubbles in your throat despite the dread. Only Zoro could be fighting a stone giant and still manage to make time for a cocky joke. 

But there’s no time to lose. Luffy and Law need you. 

And, as if he’s read your mind, a piercing scream echoes through the night, abruptly cut off. Zoro lands atop the rubble, sheathing his swords with a fluid motion before he makes his way down to you. You can tell by how he walks, his smirk practically a permanent fixture, that he’s pleased with himself.

“Did you see that?”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused by his cockiness. “I did. Enjoy yourself?”

Zoro chuckles, shrugging with a grin. “Psh, of course I did. You know me.”

You roll your eyes, the smile fading as you nudge him to walk with you. "Have you seen Luffy?"

"Yeah, he's at the palace on the hill. With Law."

You halt in your tracks. “They are?”

Zoro nods, scratching the side of his head. “They should be.”

You glance at the crumbling lookout beside you, the rocks threatening to give way at any moment. It looks like the perfect vantage point.

"Get me up there."

Zoro raises an eyebrow, his expression doubtful as he follows your gaze. "Right now?"

"Yes, now!" You snap, urgency thick in your voice.

“Damn, okay.”

Zoro crouches and wraps his arm around your legs, effortlessly hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Zoro!"

"This is faster, alright? Relax, I won’t drop you. I swear you guys have no faith in me."

You grip the back of his suit jacket, feeling the fabric wrinkle under your fingers as he springs back onto the stone man’s remains. He then nimbly leaps to the jagged rocks of the lookout. As he climbs, your mind drifts back to the events at the palace.

There had been two people when you sent Doflamingo into Seam, but then they were gone. The hands on you had felt familiar, comforting even—but then they disappeared, and that was the last thing you remember before infiltrating Doflamingo’s mind.

“Quit thinking so hard; you’re giving me a headache.” 

“Sorry,” You mumble, lifting your head to study the palace in the distance. If Luffy and Law were there when you trapped Doflamingo in Interfacing, how furious would he be to find them roaming his castle without care?

“I need to get back to the palace.”

Zoro pulls himself over the lookout's edge, gently setting you down on the grass.

“You’re not making any sense,” Zoro sighs, his brow furrowing. “You just escaped. Why the hell would you wanna go back?”

“If Luffy and Law are in trouble, I—”

Your name echoes through the air, and you turn to see Usopp standing there, sweating, with his oversized slingshot gripped tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? Violet said you were fighting Doflamingo.”

Usopp glances back toward the woman you saw earlier, the one you left behind when you parted ways with Law. She’s standing still, her eyes wide and filled with fear as they lock onto you.

“Usopp,” You gasp, your breath coming out in shaky bursts. “What are you doing up here?”

Violet’s voice breaks in before Usopp can answer, her tone tinged with desperation. “Luffy and Law are in danger. Sugar’s closing in on them.”

“Sugar?” You ask, confusion mixing with the rising alarm.

Usopp nods. “She looks like a little girl, but she’s not. She’s actually—”

“How are they in danger?” You cut him off, your heart pounding in your throat.

“Sugar is the one who turns people into toys,” Violet explains quickly, her words like cold water splashing over you.

The gravity of her words hit you, and everything seems to freeze for a moment. A wave of panic floods through your veins, and your heart races uncontrollably.

“If she turns you into a toy,” Usopp adds quietly, his voice heavy with dread. “Everyone you know forgets you—until she’s taken out.”

The realisation slams into you, and you can barely catch your breath. “I have to get over there.” 

You’re not about to be launched by Usopp’s slingshot, but you can’t waste any more time. 

“Just get the guy to throw you there,” Zoro mutters, sounding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s how he got me onto that rock guy.”

Usopp gives him a flat look, clearly unimpressed. “We’re not launching her through the sky, Zoro.”

You hesitate momentarily, and the idea starts to take shape in your mind. 

"That doesn't sound half bad," You say, already weighing the possibility. "Where is he?"

Usopp blinks at you, his face frozen in disbelief. "You two are out of your minds."

Zoro grins, leaning over the edge of the lookout, scanning the area like it’s a casual day out. “He should be around here somewhere...”

"God Usopp!" A civilian's voice suddenly shouts, causing you to jump. You turn, startled, and see a crowd of people behind you. "Come with us, and we'll make it as painless as possible!"

"Why are they so angry?" You ask, brows furrowed.

"Did you hear the bounties?" Zoro mutters with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You shake your head, confused. "What bounties?"

Usopp whimpers next to you, eager to avoid further conversation about it.

Violet gasps before Zoro can explain, her voice trembling with fear as she recounts what she witnessed. You can’t help but be impressed by her ability, and Usopp fills in the gaps, telling you that she has clairvoyant powers. 

“She’s getting closer! Usopp, get ready to fire!”

Usopp fumbles with his slingshot, his hands unsteady as he slides the bottom of the handle under his foot. He pulls the elastic back as far as it will go, then carefully loads a large ball, nearly the size of his head, into the leather pouch.

Zoro perches on the ledge as he searches for the man, his feet swinging dangerously close to the drop below. You swallow thickly, your throat tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Usopp's shot has to be perfect—if he’s even a millimetre off, Luffy and Law will vanish from everyone’s memory, lost to the curse of forgetting. 

Usopp trembles, his body shuddering with the weight of the pressure. The steady drip of sweat mingles with the rapid beat of his heart; each drop is a reminder of just how high the stakes are. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and he wipes his forehead only for more to replenish it, the tension building with every passing second. Every movement feels too loud, too heavy as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for him to make the shot.

You hold your breath, the tension thick in the air, your pulse drumming in your ears as you wait for the moment to unfold. But time seems to stretch, and the climax never comes.

“Usopp,” You whisper, your voice soft but firm enough to cut through the silence and bring his attention back to the task. “Slow your mind. I can hear your thoughts from over here.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but nods, his fingers loosening slightly on the slingshot as he adjusts his stance.

“Hurry!” Violet squeals, her voice high with anxiety as she covers her eyes with one hand, unwilling to watch what could be the final moment of reckoning. “I can’t watch!”

Usopp, however, remains focused. His expression hardens, and the resolve in his eyes returns with full force. He takes a deep, steadying breath and, with a swift motion, lines up the slingshot again. His gaze sharpens as he aligns it perfectly, focusing on the left-bottom pane of a window in the distant palace. The world around him blurs as he enters the zone—calm, centred, and ready to make the shot that could change everything.

And then, everything seems to slow.

Usopp pulls the rubber band back just a fraction further, his eyes never leaving the target. He takes one final, steady breath before releasing it. The slingshot snaps, sending the plant ball flying through the air, cutting through the silence of the lookout.

Everyone watches, holding their breath as the ball hurtles toward the window. It’s too far to see exactly where it lands, but the tension in the air is palpable.

And then, a loud cry breaks the stillness.

“I-It hit! It actually hit!” Violet screams, her voice trembling with joy, her hands shooting up to her face in disbelief. Tears stream down her cheeks as she laughs, overwhelmed with emotion. “It worked! Oh my God, it worked! Sugar is down!”

Her voice rings across the lookout, and you can't help but smile at her relief and joy. The tightness in your chest lessens just a little as the reality of Usopp’s success sinks in.

But even amid relief, trepidation clings to you like a leech. The looming dread always shadows the joy of victory. If one of Doflamingo’s executives is down, he’ll be livid—and the consequences of that rage could be catastrophic.

"Zoro, where's this guy?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Zoro’s eyes scan the area, his gaze flicking over the crowd. 

"There!" He points, his finger stabbing through the air. "That guy, the one with the weird hair and the huge jacket."

You follow his gaze, narrowing your eyes to spot the figure amongst the crowds of people. It’s like a countdown now—every second matters. “Thank you.” 

Usopp’s voice calls out behind you, laced with concern, but you don’t slow down. The wind catches the edges of your thread as you descend the cliff, the rush of air filling your ears. With a thud, your feet hit the rocky ground, and you’re off, heart pounding as you dart towards the man. His massive frame cuts through the crowd like a towering figure, and you catch up to him in no time. 

"Hey!" You call out, skipping the pleasantries. "You're the one who tossed the green-haired guy onto that rock, right?"

The man turns, his expression shifting to irritation. “Yeah? What’s it to you?”

You don’t waste time. “Think you could throw me toward the palace?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the request. For a moment, there’s a flicker of disbelief in his eyes as he assesses you—your determination and the desperation leaking through your tone. The air feels thick with tension. He looks you up and down as if trying to gauge whether you're out of your mind or if there's something more to it.

“You want me to throw you?” His voice holds a mocking edge, but something is calculating in how he studies you. “Like I did that green-haired guy?”

You step closer, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You can almost feel the pulse of time slipping away. “Yes.”

His gaze flicks to the horizon, then back at you, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “Fine. You better make it count.”

He steps forward, closing the distance, and you can see the glint of something fierce in his eyes. “You get one shot at this. If you fall short... well, that’s on you. Don’t come crying to me.”

You nod; relief is evident on your face. With a grunt, he positions himself, his muscles tensing. His hands find their place around your waist, and you barely have time to brace yourself before—

With a swift motion, he launches you into the air, and for a fleeting moment, you feel weightless.

The wind rushes past you as the world blurs below. You barely have time to process it all when the palace looms ahead, much closer than anticipated. And as you hurtle toward it, all you can think about is how you’ll kill Doflamingo. 

The palace looms closer, towering above the landscape like a jagged mountain of stone and marble. You can see the windows gleaming like cold eyes, watching you as you fly toward them. The sounds of the battle reach your ears: distant shouts, the crackle of energy, the rumble of disarray.

The ground rushes up too quickly, and dread claws at your chest. You adjust your body midair, instinctively tucking your knees beneath you to brace for the impact. There’s no time to think about using threads to break your fall—you’re a Straw Hat, after all… logic is only a sometimes thing. 

Without thinking, your body hardens with Armament Haki, and you hit the ground with a sickening thud that shakes your bones and rattles your teeth. The shock of the landing sends a burst of pain through your legs, but it’s nothing you can’t push through. Your body rebounds from the impact, rolling quickly to absorb the force. Your Haki melts away, leaving you with the aftershock of landing.

Your palms scrape against the stone, ripping the skin of your palms as you scramble to your feet. You wince at the ache in your legs, but there's no time to slow down. Your vision clears, and you stand just a few meters from the entrance. You glance around quickly, assessing your surroundings. The area is eerily quiet, save for the distant sounds of battle. A deep rumble shakes the ground beneath you as something significant crashes far off in the distance—probably another of Doflamingo’s executives wreaking havoc.

You step forward, your feet steady despite the pain, and then another. You’re sure adrenaline plays a significant part in how you feel, and Law will no doubt scold you for your recklessness afterwards. 

You spot a group of soldiers moving toward you from the side, weapons raised, and you instinctively draw in a breath, ready to spring into action.

But before you can move, a shadow falls across the courtyard, and you freeze.

It’s a figure—a familiar one—with a signature straw hat perched atop his head.

“Luffy!” You shout, relief flooding through you, but there’s no time to waste on catching your breath. You point toward the palace entrance, urgency creeping into your voice. “We gotta go.” 

“You made it!” He exclaims, a grin spreading across his face. “Thought you’d never catch up!” He pulls you into a quick, tight hug.

“I’m fine,” You say, shoving him off with a smirk. “We don’t have time for this. Where’s Law?”

Luffy doesn’t hesitate, pointing toward the palace doors. “He’s inside. He’s been holding his own, but things are getting worse. Doflamingo’s up to something big.”

You nod, heart pounding. You don’t need to be told twice. The air inside feels heavy with the tension of a thousand possible outcomes, and you know that every moment you spend out here only increases the risk. But there’s no turning back now, not that you want to. 

A voice calls from the darkness of the palace halls. “Over here!” 

It’s Law, unmistakable even through the strain in his tone. His voice cuts through the madness like a beacon, and in that moment, you have a one-track mind. The weight of everything that’s happened—the battles, the separation, the endless dangers—melts away. You dart toward the sound, your heart hammering, emotion clogging your throat. 

As you round the corner, you spot him. Law is standing there, leaning against the wall, bloodied but alive, his breathing shallow, and his expression pained but focused. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades. There’s no madness. No fight. Just him and that familiar, steady look in his eyes that you’d thought you might never see again.

You can’t stop the rush of relief that powers through you. Without thinking, you sprint toward him, your feet pounding against the cold stone floor. When you’re close enough, you throw your arms around him in a fierce hug, the rush of love almost knocking the air out of both of you.

“Law…” You whisper, your voice hoarse. He's warm against you, his pulse beating steadily beneath your hands. Law hesitates briefly, surprised by the intensity of your hug, then wraps one arm around you, pulling you in just as tightly. His voice, rough but filled with that familiar edge, cracks the fragile silence. 

“Took you long enough,” He mutters, though you can hear the relief in his voice despite the sarcasm. 

You pull back slightly, looking up at him, breathless and with a shaky laugh. 

“I had to get back here somehow,” Your fingers graze the cuts on his cheek, and you can see the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He gives you a keen, tired look, but there’s something almost tender in how he searches your face. 

“You’re insane,” He says, his voice low but softening. “You shouldn’t have come back. You were free.”

“And leave you here alone? Never.” You can feel the heat of the battle around you, the urgency creeping back into your veins, but it doesn’t matter. Everything feels right for these moments with him in your arms. 

“I gotta go,” Luffy interrupts. “Doflamingo is on a rampage.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and open your mouth to ask him where he’s going when he runs out of the palace. 

“We need to get to a rooftop near the middle of the Birdcage. Luffy and I have a plan.”

You nod and go to grab his hand when you freeze, your hand hovering in midair. The absence of his touch—of the weight of his hand—sends a shock through you, an emptiness settling in your chest. No, your mind screams as if in denial. This can’t be happening.

His left arm, the one you were trying to reach for, is gone. Still fresh and raw, the stump of it stares back at you. Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at the empty space where his arm should be. 

“...What?” He asks, his voice rough.

The space where his hand should be feels like a chasm. Your fingers brush against the blood-soaked fabric of his sleeve, but the emptiness where his hand would’ve been is a painful reminder of what’s been taken from him.

“I’m fine,” Law whispers, realising what you’re staring at. “I can fix it. We just need to get to a rooftop, and I’ll do it there.”

“Fine,” You sigh, knowing he’d brush it off. “Let’s go.”

— Scene 5 —

The battle rages below you, Luffy’s roar of fury echoing in the distance as he clashes with Doflamingo. The sky above the palace is alive with the storm of their fight, but there’s no time to linger. The tension within you tightens with each passing second. You know what’s at stake.

With your hand braced against his back, you lead Law toward the nearest edge of a building. The sounds of Luffy’s fight grow louder—the sickening crack of bone against flesh, the ferocious sound of rubber meeting the wind—but you can’t think about that now. 

You survey the drop. Small ledges, scattered stones, and an open rooftop with a short drop—just enough for a quick jump. Law’s eyes narrow as he watches you study the distance. His breath quickens as he shifts his weight slightly, clearly reluctant but understanding.

"Don't—" He starts, but you’ve already decided. 

When you inch closer to the ledge, Law grumbles something under his breath, a curse or two. The wind howls as you push off from the edge, feeling the weight of Law in your arms. Everything is suspended in time for a moment—the world beneath you shrinking and the rooftop ahead growing closer.

You land with a jarring thud, your legs reverberating with the second landing of the night. The rooftop is elevated, and you have a clear view of Luffy in the sky, his body larger than you’ve seen—a new technique?

As you carefully lower Law onto the cool stone, the wind whips around you, your hands trembling as you check him over. Your muscles ache, but you’re glad the journey to get here wasn’t that hard.

You’re both hidden from Doflamingo’s view, the sounds of Luffy’s battle clearer than before, but for a brief moment, it’s just you and Law—quiet and away from the mayhem of Dressrosa.

"Good?" You ask, looking at him with concern. 

Law glances at you briefly, his silver eyes stark with focus, before looking back at the chaotic battle between Luffy and Doflamingo. He tugs his hat from his head, his hair sticking in all directions. You watch Luffy in his Gear Fourth form, his strikes thunderous, and wonder when he discovered that. A flicker of something crosses Law’s face — a mix of frustration and the ghost of a smirk. 

“This should be fine.” His face remains impassive, but there’s a tightness in his jaw, a subtle flinch when he moves. 

You watch as he expands Room, using Shambles to summon his arm. It’s odd to see Law handle his own limb like this. 

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a sideways glance. “Do you want to reattach your arm? Or do you want me to?” 

Your words hang in the air, though you can hear the slight edge of amusement laced within them. The situation, grim as it is, feels strangely familiar — him, injured and stubborn, not wanting to ask for help.

He pauses briefly, eyeing you with a hint of that usual deflection. "You’re not going to let me do it myself, are you?"

You smirk, inching closer to him. “I could let you try, but you might get your stitches tangled.”

Law snorts, a small, pained laugh escaping him despite himself. “My stitches are perfect.”

“Tell that to my torso,” You quip, remembering how often your stitches ripped when you first met him. 

“That was your fault,” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t know how to sit still.”

“And you do?” You meet his eyes, an unspoken understanding between you. The situation is dire, and Law needs to use his power soon, so without hesitation, you summon Sew. 

“Don’t move.”

Law doesn’t respond—but his half-smile, which barely tugs at his lips, is enough to settle your heart.

As you begin working, Law remains surprisingly quiet. The battle rages above; Luffy’s shouts and Doflamingo’s curses punctuate the tension. But for now, in this small moment amidst the chaos, the two of you sit in a rare silence, the past few days of turmoil and bloodshed settling into something almost calm. 

You make quick work of the sutures, conjuring a gauze from Sew when they are finished. 

“Done,” You say, your voice a little breathless, as if sewing him together has taken more out of you than you care to admit. You secure the end of the gauze before leaning down and pressing your lips to his shoulder. 

Law flexes his fingers, testing the strength of the arm. His usual mask of cool indifference slips just a little, and, just for you, a smile plays at his lips. 

“You sure you’re not going to be a little more gentle next time?” He teases, his voice still raspy from the strain of the fight earlier. 

You laugh, though it’s a little breathless. “Maybe I’ll take it easy next time,” You say, lightly brushing over his arm's now-healed skin, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Law speaks again, voice softer than before. “I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d allow someone to put me back together again.”

You glance up, locking eyes with him. 

“You don’t need to do everything alone, you know.” You whisper. “That’s why I went with you to Punk Hazard despite your relentless arguing.”

“I didn’t want you to be in danger. I can’t handle it.” 

His gaze shifts away for a moment as if the vulnerability of his words unsettles him. The admission catches you off guard. But then, that’s always been his way—never one to show weakness, yet here he is, allowing himself a glimpse of it. The vulnerability behind the facade is just for you.

You close the distance between you instantly, your hands reaching his chest. 

“I know,” You say softly, your heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you close. His fingers tighten ever so slightly as if ensuring himself that you’re here.

“You better not,” He mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say, your voice firm. It’s in moments like this, when everything else goes silent, that you know for certain: no matter what happens or the dangers that await, you’re not letting him go.

His forehead rests against yours, and you close your eyes, the weight of his breath mingling with yours. The world outside could burn, and you'd still feel this—this unshakable connection between you two.

“You know,” Law says, his voice low, but there's a playful edge. “I don’t need you to save me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound a little too close to a sigh of relief. 

“I’m not saving you. I’m just making sure you don’t bleed out on me,” You tease, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness behind the words. 

“I could’ve done it myself,” He mutters, brushing his lips against your forehead before pulling back slightly, his gaze darkening as he meets your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, aware of the subtle change in his tone. 

“What, now you're going to fight me about how much I love you?” You laugh, though you know the real fight is just starting. This brief moment of peace is fleeting.

“Always,” Law replies, and you don’t need him to say more. His actions have always spoken louder than words ever could. “Because I love you more, sweetheart.”

And just as you roll your eyes and go to answer, there’s a voice.

“Law?”

Violet and a pink-haired girl emerge from the darkness, their expressions tainted with fear. 

“Here,” He mumbles. “Is Luffy almost done?”

“We’ve got two minutes.” 

But now, Luffy’s struggling—his body pushed beyond its limits, his Fourth Gear faltering. He won’t last much longer. 

And then, as if on cue, he collapses. The look in his eyes as he stumbles back, bloodied and exhausted, makes something snap inside you. The night rages on, the Birdcage encapsulating only a mere kilometre of Dressrosa. 

"No..." You mutter under your breath. You’ve seen Luffy take hits before, but this time, it’s different. The familiar power he had just moments ago is slipping away, and Doflamingo is already closing in, that smug grin plastered across his face. 

Your eyes narrow as you look up at the sky, your gaze zeroing in on his body.

Law tugs you into him, his breathing rapid and his voice low. “You have to kill him.”

You blink, your eyes wide. “What?”

“Luffy’s down; he’ll be out for ten minutes. We don't have that much time.”

“But you—”

“I can’t. My stamina’s run out, my power’s useless,” Law says quickly. “It has to be you.”

“Law…”

“Please,” He begs. “For me, for Cora.”

You frown, tears welling as you nod. “Okay.”

Rising on shaky legs, you take a deep breath. 

“Doflamingo!” You shout, your voice slicing through the air. He turns toward you slowly, amusement curling his lips.

“Oh? And what do you think you can do, Dreamweaver?” His voice is condescending as if he already knows the answer. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to stop me. You’re weak!”

His strings whip through the air, targeting you, aiming to pierce, constrict, and control. But this time, you don’t dodge; you don’t need to. The power inside you surges, something ancient and primal awakened by the desperation coursing through your veins. 

Your hands snap to life, fingers moving with purpose as you channel your power. 

The strings Doflamingo sends toward you come in slow motion as your mind takes over. You flick your wrist, and the threads appear mid-air, their shimmering lines of power intertwining with the strings Doflamingo controls. Your threads, woven from sheer will, latch onto his, effortlessly pulling them apart.

“What the—?!” Doflamingo snarls as his strings begin to unravel, sliced through by your own, snapping under the force of your mastery. Once awakened, it feels like there’s no limit to your power.

Law, Violet, and the girl you’ve come to know as Rebecca gasp, their surprise a welcome sound. 

The battlefield quiets momentarily as Doflamingo is forced to retreat, confusion flickering in his eyes. You can feel his shock; he wasn’t expecting you to be able to manipulate his strings. You’re not just fighting him now; you’re bending the very laws that govern his power—just like he said you could, but you don’t think he thought it possible. 

You’re done letting him control innocent people and drink their grief as he pleases. This isn’t about survival anymore—it’s about protecting your crew, your friends, your family. With one last look at Law, you nod. 

The pressure of the moment weighs heavily on your shoulders, the culmination of years of pain, battles fought, and lives lost. His life, in particular, comes into sharp focus—Corazon.

You never met him, only catching fleeting glimpses of his face through Doflamingo’s twisted memories, but his legacy reverberates in every part of Law’s soul. The boy who had once been a scared, isolated orphan, consumed by the need for vengeance, has grown into one of the most extraordinary men you’ve ever known.

You think back to that first meeting. The awkwardness and confusion. Law had been so guarded, so closed off. He didn’t trust you. You weren’t sure why you felt compelled to help him at that time—perhaps because you saw something in him that was so familiar: a pain that mirrored your own—a loneliness. You were away from the Straw Hats, unaware they were alive, and felt utterly useless.

Now, standing in the eye of the storm, with Doflamingo finally glaring down at you with a scathing hatred, you understand the truth. Corazon had never wanted anything for himself. The way he saved Law from Doflamingo’s cruelty, even when his own life hung in the balance… It was a gift that could never be repaid.

And now you were going to avenge him.

Law’s Adam’s apple bobs, and he nods once back, recognising the fire in your eyes. The moment is fleeting, and you step onto the rooftop's ledge. 

“Go get Luffy,” You say, Violet and Rebecca hurrying off the roof to retrieve your captain. You roll your head, cracking your neck as you breathe out. 

You pull the threads together with a single, fluid movement, weaving them into a perfect net of power. It’s not just about cutting or controlling anymore; you can reshape and rebuild. And you can feel Doflamingo’s control over Dressrosa slipping with each string severed. 

"You’re brave," He laughs. "I’ll have fun with you.” 

You don't answer. You don't need to. With a single thought, you twist his strings, feeling the connections snap and pop under your command. His stance falters, just for a moment, but it's enough. You seize the opportunity, sending your threads into his body, sinking deep into his flesh, pulling him toward you with an almost sickening precision. His body jerks as he tries to resist, but the more he struggles, the more your threads tighten around him, squeezing, constricting, making him fight against his own body.

The Sew-Sew Fruit isn't just about control; it's about creation. And you're about to reshape the battlefield itself.

With a brutal yank, you rip the strings of his power from his body, using them against him. The tension in the air becomes palpable as Doflamingo's strength turns on him, his movements jerking in unnatural directions. He roars in anger, but you're not listening anymore. You're focused, the world shrinking to the space between you and him, where you will make the final strike.

A flurry of movement, a desperate swing of his hand, and you dodge just in time, the strings grazing past your cheek. You respond with a sharp movement of your own—your hands flashing through the air as you manipulate the threads around him, tying his limbs together, pulling his body into an intricate web that he can't escape. His attempts to break free are fruitless; your threads are everywhere now, pulling and twisting him into submission.

"Stop!" Doflamingo howls, his voice strained and desperate. But the sound of his frustration only spurs you on. 

“You think you’re the only one who can control strings?” You sneer, your hand outstretched as you weave more threads into the air. They dance in the sky, intricate braids of thread coming together to sing a song of destruction. 

Doflamingo’s face twists in anger, but his eyes show an undeniable hint of fear. This is not the kind of power he expected from you. His usual smugness falters, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

“I’m the one who made you like this!” He spits, trying once more to tap into his power. “If I didn’t tell you the truth of your power, you’d be dead!”

You pull tighter, weaving the threads through his joints, making him bend to your will, contorting him into painful positions. His skin tears where your threads dig in, the blood staining the light pink of his coat. But you're relentless. The control you have over his body now is unadulterated. The ground beneath you vibrates, a low hum running through your body as you extend your reach. 

His eyes flash with panic as he realises he is now a marionette, and you're the one pulling the strings.

Needles fly toward him, overlapping and creating a network. Doflamingo is surrounded by a metal cage, the gaps closing with every second that passes. He gasps for breath, but it’s futile. The reality you’ve woven around him is his prison, and now he can only watch as his defeat unfolds.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you gather every ounce of energy left in you, and with a final, swift motion, you break the threads. The sickening sound of his body, his soul, being torn apart echoes in your ears as your power rips through him, pulling his strings free from his body like a shattered puppet.

Needles clatter to the street below, and his soul screams before tapering off with a whimper.

“You’re done,” You whisper with finality and a deep sense of resolve.

And Doflamingo’s body falls to the earth, defeated.

— Scene 6 —

The first light of dawn creeps over the horizon, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and gold. It’s a slow, gentle rise—like the world waking up after a long, restless night. The ruins of Dressrosa, still scarred by the battle, bathe in the early light, casting long shadows that slowly fade into the warmth of the sun’s touch.

The oppressive weight of victory slowly begins to lift from your chest, replaced by a quiet reverence. The Birdcage retracts, the strings pulling up from the ground and disappearing when they meet in the middle of the sky. As the dust settles, the tension in the air gives way to something deeper, something far more personal. 

“Luffy,” You gasp, turning around and making a beeline for his exhausted body. His face is smeared with dirt, his body bruised, but that light in his eyes, the unshakable spark of life—that hasn’t changed.

His grin spreads even wider as if seeing you standing there, alive, is the greatest victory of all. But when he sees the look on your face—something softer, something raw—his expression falters just a little. His voice, always full of energy, carries that familiar comfort.

"You alright? I knew you'd pull through. You’re tougher than you look!"

You walk toward him, your chest tight, your throat thick with emotion. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come at first. How do you convey the years of struggle, the battles fought together, the times when it felt like everything was falling apart, and yet you never gave up because he was there, always believing in you, in all of you?

Luffy doesn’t push you to speak. He just watches with that patient, understanding look in his eyes. He knows you’ve been through something heavy. He knows the weight of a captain’s responsibility, the loss of friends, and the pain of living a life filled with blood and betrayal.

You kneel before him. His wide eyes blink in surprise, the usual bravado of his face softening. The words are stuck, but then, something inside you breaks. You feel it—the flood of gratitude, of relief, of everything he’s done for you, for all of you. The way he’s always believed in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself. The way his stupid, unwavering faith pulled you back from the edge time and time again.

"I don’t know how to say it,” You say, smiling through tears. “I can’t… But thank you. For everything."

Luffy’s expression softens, a rare vulnerability creeping into his eyes. The words might be simple, but they carry significance. You can see it in how his shoulders relax, and his chest rises with a deep breath. He opens his mouth, but instead of some teasing remark, it’s something much quieter, much more real.

"Don’t say that. You don’t need to thank me. It’s just... it's what I do. You’re my friend.”

You feel something swell in your chest, a quiet release, like all the tension you’d carried for so long, just melts away in those words. The bond between a captain and their crew is unshakable.

“You did most of the work,” You laugh, moving the hair from his face. “I just finished him off.” 

Luffy’s laugh bursts from him, loud and unrestrained, as if he’s just heard the funniest thing in the world. The same carefree, reckless sound has always been a beacon of hope and unshakable confidence, even in the darkest times. He throws his head back, his arms flailing in the air as his laugh echoes across the ruins of Dressrosa.

“You’re really something, you know that?" He grins. The weight of reality doesn’t seem to reach him, not when he’s laughing like this. 

You shrug helplessly, a laugh leaving your lips. Luffy’s laugh—it’s infectious. It makes the whole world feel just a little bit lighter. And in this moment, despite the scars and bruises, bloodshed and loss, it’s as if his laughter proves that everything you’ve been through was worth it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, noticing the exhaustion painting his demeanour. He nods, but then his eyes roll to the back of his head, and snores erupt from the deepest parts of his chest. 

You stand, your gaze meeting Violet and Rebecca, and you thank them for caring for your captain. 

Law’s eyes lock with yours across the rooftop, and it’s as if time slows—the world around you blurs into nothingness, and in that single, suspended moment, all the pain, the loss, the suffering fades into the background. Only the two of you exist in this space, your hearts racing to meet one another.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t need to. The relief is in how his shoulders ease, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his usually stoic face.

"...You did it."

His voice is quiet, but there's weight in the words—more than just acknowledgment, it’s gratitude, it's understanding. It's the recognition of everything he’s sacrificed, everything you've fought for. He steps forward; the movement is almost tentative, unsure whether to close the distance or give you space. His gaze never leaves you like he’s making sure you're there, standing after all the carnage. 

Law is in shock at the extent of your power, but he holds off on asking about it when you take a step toward him and then another. Before you know it, you’re close enough to feel the heat of his body, to breathe in the scent of him—the faint trace of salt from the sea, the worn material of his coat, the familiar scent that’s somehow always anchored you. Without a word, your hands find him, and it feels like a release.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him. His body tenses for just a heartbeat, and his arms encircle you in return. It’s not a gentle embrace; it's raw, urgent like a drowning man grabbing hold of something solid. His fingers press into your back as if to remind himself that you’re real, that you’ve made it through this hell. 

"I never realised how... far you could take your power,” Law muses. “You awakened, didn’t you?”

You watch him momentarily, letting his words settle, and nod. Law isn’t the type to be easily impressed. He’s been surrounded by people with powerful abilities his whole life, seen every form of strength and technique. And yet, here he is—staring at you like you’re something new, something beyond even his experience. 

You glance down at the threads suspended in the air between you, your hands still tingling with the power you’ve just unleashed. For a second, you wonder if he’s afraid of it, the sheer weight of what you can do, and the responsibility that comes with it. After all, not everyone can control such power without losing themselves.

"No. Not a curse,” He shakes his head, his lips pursed. “I’m... I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. This is bigger than I thought. But I trust you. I always have."

His words don’t surprise you. Law has been your biggest supporter for two years; always one to improve your techniques rather than shy away from them. But the way he says it—quietly but with complete certainty—it’s like he’s acknowledging the full depth of you, not just the person you were, but the person you are now—the strength you’ve built and the raw power underneath your skin. 

“We make a good team," You smile, tucking stray hairs behind his ears. 

Law licks his lips, his eyes piercing in the dawn sun when he leans in. He captures you in a searing, dizzying kiss that sends you reeling. He pours everything he can into it, using his injured arm to draw you closer. Law doesn’t care that Luffy’s there or that Violet and Rebecca giggle behind you; all that matters is you.

“Hey! Guys!” 

You pull away from the kiss, the taste of Law still lingering on your lips as you catch your breath, your heart racing from both the intensity of the moment and the joy that surged through you just a moment ago. His hand still lingers in the space between you, but you break free, playful mischief dancing in your eyes.

Law’s gaze flickers with something between amusement and frustration, his fingers still reaching for you as you step back a few paces, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Hey, don't just run off like that."

You laugh, a teasing sound that makes his brows tug together, his lips curving downward in that way he gets when he’s trying to act annoyed, but the small tilt of his head and the gleam in his eyes betray him. He doesn’t mind the chase, especially not when it ends with you.

You glance over at the street below, where half of the crew is waving up at you, their bodies worn and tired from the night's battles. They’re standing in a disorganised, ragged line, but each wears that unmistakable, heartwarming smile despite their exhaustion. Zoro, ever the stoic, looks a bit more dishevelled than usual, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, pride, maybe even a hint of amusement as he watches you.

“Are you all okay?" Your voice calls down to them, and they all respond with bored yeses, like they’ve been waiting for you to acknowledge them, to pull you out of the moment with Law.

Zoro doesn’t answer, but you can tell he’s fine by the way his sword is casually slung over his shoulder, his stance relaxed despite the weariness in his eyes. A faint smile on his lips is too small to be noticed at first, but it’s there.

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and concern. The battle was brutal, and seeing your friends here, battered but smiling, brings warmth to your chest. You step closer to the rooftop's edge, gripping the stone and leaning out just enough to be closer to them.

“Are you sure? You all look like you’ve been through hell."

Franky throws both hands in the air, his signature mechanical arm extending dramatically. His grin is as wild as ever. "Franky’s super! I’m built to last, baby!"

He strikes a ridiculous pose, flexing his robotic muscles, and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even after everything. His body’s covered in scratches and scuff marks, and there's a noticeable dent in his arm, but the energy radiating off him makes him seem fine. 

Robin’s laughter rings out next, soft and knowing. She stands a bit behind the group, her eyes glinting with something more than just the weariness of battle. Her power unfurls from your shoulder to gently pat your hair, a comforting touch that feels almost like a reassurance. You lean into it instinctively, feeling the faint flutter of her tendrils against your scalp.

"We’re all alive, at least,” She says; her smile is quiet, but her voice has a deep sincerity. 

"All thanks to captain Usopp!!" Usopp’s voice rings out from behind the others. He waves from where he’s leaning against a nearby building, a blinding smile on his face. He flexes his bicep, much like Franky, and laughs. Exhaustion is evident on his face, but there’s that ever-present glint of optimism in his eyes. 

"Zoro?" Your voice rings through the silence.

His eyes flicker toward you for just a second before he smirks, that familiar, infuriating grin creeping across his face. "Tch, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

His voice is hoarse, and you catch the subtle strain in his tone, but you know better than to press him. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head. 

"You’re all impossible," You mutter under your breath, but there’s a fondness. Even with their bruises and injuries, they are alive, and that’s all that matters. You’ve all made it through yet another fight, another battle against overwhelming odds.

You turn back to Law, who’s still standing there watching you, his expression unreadable but his eyes softening with something more profound. He steps forward, his hand reaching out to you, a silent invitation. Without a second thought, you slide into his side, leaning into him. Your fingers brush his, intertwining with his as the two of you stand there, watching the crew. There’s a quiet understanding between you; Doflamingo has been defeated, and the crew’s safe, but there’s still a long road ahead.

A loud, enthusiastic yawn sounds from behind you. Rolling your eyes, you glance at Luffy, who stretches his arms high above his head as if he’s just had the most peaceful nap of his life. The moment he blinks open his eyes, he’s already grinning—like nothing could ever be wrong in the world. His laughter rings out, even though he’s barely even fully conscious. 

"Mmm, I’m hungry! What’s for breakfast?"

Everyone groans, ignoring your captain as you figure out where to go from here. 

“The Navy’s still here. I think they’re on to us.” The moment Robin’s words cut through the air, the lighthearted mood of the crew evaporates like smoke in the wind. 

“We don’t have a ship,” Usopp says. “The others took the Sunny to Zou.”

“I can help!” A voice squeaks. You raise an eyebrow as the man steps fully into view, brushing dust and debris off his ragged clothes. He stands there, almost nervously, before raising a hand with a glint of determination in his eyes. “My ship can carry everyone and more!” 

“Rooster Head!” Luffy exclaims, rising to his feet. The nickname makes you blink again, but it’s clear that Luffy knows him. 

The man’s face lights up, recognition clicking in his eyes as he hears the name. You can practically hear the stars in his voice as he continues.

“Mister Luffy,” The guy cries. “I saw you fighting with Doflamingo. You are so incredible.”

Luffy laughs, jumping off the roof and landing on the street with a rubbery thud. “Nah, that was all her.”

You blink, caught off guard as his grin broadens, and he turns to you. There’s something in his eyes, something deep that makes your heart skip a beat.

“She’s the one you should be thanking.”

The green-haired man Luffy calls "Rooster Head" is staring at you with wide eyes now, his mouth hanging open like he’s just realised who you are.

“Incredible... this is perfect! I can’t believe it! I didn’t know I’d get to meet the hero of Dressrosa today!”

Luffy bursts into laughter, clearly delighted by the reaction.

“Oh,” You feel your cheeks warm. “I’m no hero.”

“So humble!” Rooster Head fawns. But as quickly as the starstruck glint in his eye comes, it disappears. He seems as though he almost forgot his initial reason for approaching. He starts to fidget a little, his hands moving as though he’s trying to figure out the best way to get to the point. “Oh! Right, right! I’ve got a ship nearby, a fast one. It’s perfect for getting away from the Navy.”

“Fast, huh?” Robin teases. 

“Yeah, yeah! It’s small, nimble—should be able to get you all out of here before they even know what happened!” His eyes are sparkling like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life. For a second, it almost feels surreal. 

You look at Luffy, who’s grinning wider than ever. “See? I told you, everything works out! We’ll get out of here, no problem.”

You nod, a little smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you look back at the green-haired stranger. “Alright, let’s get moving then. Lead the way.”

Rooster Head nearly jumps out of his skin at your words, already turning on his heel to lead you to the ship. Luffy, as usual, follows in his wake, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. 

Violet and Rebecca thank you and the crew for all your help; hugging each of you tightly. Their teary goodbye makes you feel guilty for leaving so abruptly, but you’re eager to see the rest of your crews—both of them. 

Nami, Sanji, Brook, Chopper, Bepo, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, and the rest of the Heart Pirates are on Zou. 

Law’s steady presence beside you feels like a quiet reassurance as he helps you down from the rooftop. You glance at him, but he already knows what you're thinking. 

“You ready?”

Nodding, you send a tired, easy smile as you reach for his hand with quiet certainty, your fingers brushing his as you clasp it. The gesture is simple, but it speaks volumes. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

As you both fall in step, you notice the Straw Hats already ahead of you, their movements light, laughter and chatter flowing easily between them. 

You follow them for a few moments, and the distance between you and them does not feel far at all. It’s just a ten-minute walk to the port, a short journey to the ship Rooster Head had told you about. The air feels fresh after Doflamingo’s defeat, as if the world feels free from the grips of a man like him.

“Rooster Head said the ship’s fast, right?”

“That’s the plan.” His voice is almost dry, but there's an undercurrent of amusement like he’s already resigned to the inevitable chaos when the Straw Hats are involved.

As you watch your crewmates ahead, you chuckle softly, the tension easing out of your shoulders. The thought of the Straw Hats and Heart Pirates forming an alliance, even briefly, fills you with something close to fondness. 

The ship comes into view, and you halt when you look at it. Law deflates beside you. It’s a strange, oddly shaped vessel painted with bright colours. The ship’s sails are adorned with a distinctive green and white colour scheme, and you can see the figure of a tall, spiky-haired man waving excitedly from the helm. The ship is unlike anything you’ve seen before—a testament to its captain's wild, fearless personality. The ship's exterior is covered in graffiti-like designs and emblems that pay homage to Luffy and his crew. Even the figurehead at the front is a massive, exaggerated bust of Luffy, grinning with unrestrained joy. 

Luffy’s cheers echo through the air when he steps onto the ship, throwing his arms up. “This ship’s great, Bartolomeo! You really know how to pick ‘em!”

Bartolomeo, practically glowing with pride, stands a few feet behind him, his hands gripping the ship's edge as he watches Luffy with awe. His eyes shine with admiration, and it’s obvious how much this moment means to him. This ship—his ship—now has Luffy’s stamp of approval, and to him, it’s the greatest compliment in the world.

“Alright!” Luffy yells. “Set sail! To Zou!” 

— Scene 7 —

As you sit on the bow of the ship, the sunsetting and half of your family partying behind you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You once believed you were a fool for thinking Law helped you out of the goodness of his heart, but the journey through the labyrinth proved you wrong, and you’d do it over a million times if it meant you’d end up with him. 

Whether you rejoin the Straw Hats or stay with Law and the Heart Pirates, you know both sides will be happy with your decision. Because love isn’t about being bound to just one world. It’s about finding the strength to exist in both. The Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates—they’re both your family. And with them, you know you’ll always be home.

You still have a lot to learn about your power, now awakened. If you're not careful, you think you might lose yourself to it—to the overwhelming pull of creation, the seductive promise of absolute control over memories, over fate, over the very essence of existence. At times, it’s hard to remember where you end and the world begins.

Something is lurking just beneath the surface—something that doesn’t make sense yet, a hidden potential waiting for you to unlock. You can feel it pushing at the edges of your mind, urging you to understand it and to delve deeper into the art of weaving the world itself into a tapestry of your design.

But you will learn. The power will be yours to command—on your terms. You will discover the true cost of weaving threads into the world’s fabric. And in the process, you’ll uncover a truth that only those who wield the Sew-Sew Fruit can recognise: You are the weaver, but you must never forget that some things cannot, should not, be sewn. And yet, the temptation to do so, to reshape everything, is always there. It’s just a matter of when you will choose to listen to the warnings or let the threads lead you down a path where only you can understand the full extent of your power.

And somewhere, deep within, you feel that perhaps this is only the beginning. The true test is yet to come.

With a final word count of 73,550 words, Labyrinth is my longest piece of writing to date, and I couldn't be more grateful to share it with you. Thank you so much for reading my fanfic in the first place; your kind comments and sheer excitement for this series warmed my heart so, so much. There may be more fics like this in the future, but for now, I will be sticking to reading them and finishing One Piece, haha! I love you all, and thank you for reading <3

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