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sarahowritesostucky · 9 months ago

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Happy Little Family

📖"A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like her Mommy"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4407

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: Bucky shows up unannounced at your cottage, shattering the peaceful life you thought you'd reclaimed for yourself and your daughter. He's reclaiming what's his, and he isn't planning on accepting a "no."

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one"

1. A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat, Just like her Mommy

"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."

You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby.

"James," you breathe, horrified. He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,

June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah Sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."

Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "Please give her to me."

He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."

A whimper escapes you, unbidden.

June starts squirming in his lap, eager to get to you. When he doesn’t hand her over, she starts to fuss. He coos at her and bounces her in his arms to calm her, kisses the top of her head while keeping his somber, reproachful eyes on you. “You left your door unlocked,” he says. “She was alone.”

She’d been down for her nap when you went downstairs and popped across the street to visit with Hilde, your one friend in the world. It’s so common for mothers to do, in this tiny, Nordic village you’ve settled in. It’s the culture here. It’s supposed to be safe. You swallow thickly, eyes flitting around to try and think of what to do. You think of your gun, so far away. You’d talked yourself out of keeping it tucked behind your bed, so now the only weapon you own is down in the kitchen. But maybe … maybe if you can get him away from June …

“You should be more careful, Little thief. You never know who might break in and take everything you love.”

“The only thing we had to guard against here was you,” you hiss. “And I’m not fool enough to think a locked door would keep you out.”

“You’re damned right it wouldn’t.” He tosses the storybook aside like trash and stands up with June in his arms. “But you are a fool if you thought there was anywhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

You flinch forward compulsively, unable to think of your own safety over your baby’s. “Please, James,” you beg. “Please. Just give her to me.”

“Oh no, Dollface,” he purrs, voice deceptively soft. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and you aren’t gonna want her in the room when it happens.” His hands tighten threateningly on June’s little body. “Whose baby is this?”

You blanch. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Aw. You don’t want me to hurt her?”

“No, please!” The sob that’s been working its way up in your throat finally breaks. It’s killing you not to rush forward and snatch her from his arms. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“Is that so?” He stares at you long and hard. The few seconds of silence are torturous as he holds your daughter away from you.

James is one of the deadliest people you’ve ever met, and he’s capable of horrendous violence, but he wouldn’t hurt a baby, that much you do know. What you have to worry about most right now isn’t him physically hurting her; it’s him wanting her, whisking her away right alongside you, when he inevitably takes you from this place. There’s nothing you can do to prevent your own fate, but if there’s anything you can do to keep him from getting his hands on June, you’ll do it. Your eyes flit around the nursery frantically, its pale, dream-like decorations taunting you as you try to think of what to do. It feels surreal to have a man like James standing in this room, feels wrong.

Your heart leaps when he suddenly moves, but he’s only turning to walk over to the crib, bending and placing June in it with a surprising amount of care. Something painful lances in your chest at seeing him handle her so gently, but when he turns back around to you, all of that gentleness is gone. “Come on,” he snaps. “To the other bedroom.”

You hesitate, not wanting to leave your daughter alone, but he stalks forward and grabs your upper arm, herding you out of the nursery and down the hallway. In your bedroom, he pushes you onto the bed. You land in a heap and scramble to prop back up on your hands, trying to swipe the hair out of your face.

“Whose baby is that?” he demands. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

His Voice. God. After almost a year and a half it should be lessened. The pull you feel when you hear it has no right to tug at you the way it does. You’re not even mated, which makes it all the more insulting. It gets in through your ears and spreads throughout your body, like an invasive plant, growing and sinking its roots into you and tug, tug tugging on your will: Whose baby is that.

You fight the awful urge to tell him, as you rapidly, fearfully weigh your options. It’s hard to think when you’re so frightened, so taken aback. Most people might think it wise to admit the truth, but you know this man, this alpha, and you know he’ll never let her go if he knows that she’s his. Anything, you think. You have to do anything you can to keep her from that life, that world.

Heart in your throat, you insist, “Noone.”

“Noone?” His visage darkens. “Artificial insemination, then? I know they’re progressive and all up here, but don’t take me for a fool, mamochka.”

“It was just some guy! Just a one night stand, I swear!”

He surges in, gets one knee up on the bed and pushes you onto your back when you try to get up, leaning over you and holding you down by your shoulders. “So you did let another man fuck you,” he growls.

You jut your chin out and hiss, “Yes.” (Lying Rule #1: deliver your bullshit with confidence).

“Who? Was he alpha?”

“Why do you care? It was one night in Oslo.” (Rule #2: add in one or two unimportant details.)

“What’s. his. name?”

A bitter sound escapes you (Rule #3: attach honest emotion to it, if you can). “I don’t know his name. I never did. I was just racking up a roster, just wanted to get laid after getting away from you.”

He bares his teeth at you in a snarl, furious, and shoves you harder against the mattress. You cry out and try to hit him, but he catches your wrists and holds them down to the bed easily, shoving you again, one of his powerful thighs pressed up between yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, getting in your face, lying on top of you. “Noone else’s. Not ever.”

You whimper and nod, shaken and keenly aware of his body on top of yours, his strength. James is a massive hulk of an alpha, capable of overpowering you in any situation, and even through your frantic thoughts, you know you’ll never be able to get away from him in close contact like this. He’s so angry, his scent gone thick and choking. You’re too panicked to plan out what it is you’re going to say next, you just wind up instinctively trying to placate him, blurting out, “What do you want?”

He leers down at you. “I want what’s mine. What’s always been mine.” On your wrists, his fingers tighten cruelly. “You’ve had your fun now, and gotten away with it for too damn long. You’re coming home with me, Little thief.”

You gasp as the pressure on your wrists increases painfully, mind flying to that cold, Siberian fortress and the life that awaits you there. You might be able to get away from him before then, but you might not, and you can’t risk June being trapped there as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you, I will. Wherever you want. Just … Please let me give her to the neighbor. Please.”

He smiles nastily down at you. “Oh, you don’t want her to come along? Another man’s pup?”

Tears press at the backs of your eyes at the thought of leaving your daughter behind, but you shake your head. “Please. Just take her over to the woman across the street. She’ll look after her. Please James, she's my daughter. I won’t fight you if you leave her there. She’s nothing to you. Just let her stay where it’s safe.”

Something in his expression shifts, but you don’t have time to figure out what the emotion might be, before he shutters again. He leans down and purrs, “Oh, I don’t know, vorishka [little thief]. You stole some very valuable things from me. And since I don’t see any fucking Picassos hanging in this hovel you call a house, I assume they’re in the wind.”

It wasn’t as though you’d simply been able to run away. Escaping had required finances, techniques, firms of dangerous men hired to plant false leads, erase tracks, ferret you away into oblivion, and then move halfway across the globe and buy yourself a new identity. The bribes alone had eaten up most of the money. You shudder in his grip, knowing that the paintings wouldn’t save you, even if you did have them. “They’re gone.”

“I know they’re gone, Little thief.” He shoves his thigh down against you. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

You whimper. “I can’t,” you plead. “James. I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a few ways you can start repaying your debt.” He runs one hand down your side, groping your waist as he breathes softly against your ear: “For instance, do you have any idea what she’d be worth on the black market?”

It takes you a split second to figure out what he means, and your heart seizes in terror as soon as you do. You know James is involved in every type of shady, illegal dealing there is in the world, but you’d never even considered the idea of human trafficking. Now that he’s said it, you panic that you’ve made a huge mistake by lying that the baby isn’t his. “James,” you whisper, horrified. “Alpha, please.”

“Oh, it’s Alpha, now, is it?” He chuckles meanly, the sound making your stomach churn. You’re about to say something else, beg in some other, pitiful way, tell him he’s June’s father, but instead you cry out as his hand fists in your hair and yanks your head to the side. His breath hits hot against your skin and he drags his nose up the side of your neck, scenting you. “Mmm,” he hums darkly, pleased. “You spread your legs for another man, but you didn’t let anyone in here.”

You squeak when his teeth scrape over your still-unmarked glands. “No!” you gasp, just as much an answer as it is a plea for nim not to bite you. “I didn’t, I didn’—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, closing his teeth down on the spot. You whine as he pulls your hair and slowly increases the pressure of his bite, threatening to break the skin. Horrified, you feel your body responding with arousal, heat blooming deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, and sure enough few seconds later James is inhaling deeply and chuckling. “Oh, kotenok [kitten]. Still the same as ever, huh?” He shifts, hand slipping down between your legs and cupping you from over the fabric of your dress. “Ripe for your Alpha’s touch, even after all this time. How sweet.” Humiliated rage bubbles up inside of you and you glare up at him. He’s looking down fondly at you, eyes heated and lip drawn into his mouth. He lets it slide back out between his teeth and murmurs, “It’s okay, you know. It’s everything to me, omegechka [little omega], the way you respond. It’s only natural.” You growl angrily, but he just hums and tugs your hair again, other hand molding to your mound and rubbing. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, when you cry out louder. “Don’t want to scare the whelp, do you?”

You freeze, listening to try and hear June. She’s whining from over in her room, not understanding why she’s been left alone when she can hear her mommy’s voice just down the hall. “Please,” you whisper, locking eyes with James again. “Please. Let me go to her.”

He grinds the heel of his hand against you. “I told you, Dollface. You don’t want her here for this.”

He kisses you on the mouth, chaste and lingering; so gentle that for a split second it makes you ache for what you once had with him. James always was very good at making love to you, at lavishing you with a softness and a tenderness even in the darkest of times. But now you can only shiver underneath his weight, because you know that’s not what’s about to happen.

“Seventeen months, moya omegya,” he rumbles quietly, lips brushing yours with the words. “My bed suddenly cold, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His tone of voice is so intimately familiar that it makes your heart clench, bringing back memories of a life you’ve fought so hard to put behind you. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t do this.”

He tuts and shakes his head softly, as if he’s actually remorseful. “How this goes depends entirely on you. I want you to know that.” He hasn’t stopped working his hand against you, rubbing his palm against your clit and smiling at how you shudder beneath him and your body betrays you. You watch his nostrils flare as he smells the reaction he’s pulling from you against your will. “Sweet girl,” he coos. “You just can’t help it, can you?” You toss your head and screw your eyes shut, but he’s having none of it. He yanks your hair and hisses at you to open your eyes. “No,” he warns, once he’s got your attention. He moves back, getting up onto his knees and shrugging off his jacket. “You’re going to watch. The whole time.” His hands land on his belt, the buckle clinking as he opens it and undoes his pants. “I want to look right in your eyes while I take back what’s mine.” He shoves his pants down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, already hard and wet at the tip. A part of him that’s been inside you hundreds of times, probably. Something you’ve craved and debased yourself for.

Seeing it reignites your shame, but it’s the way you feel your cunt pulse and release a fresh wave of slick, that really makes you start resisting again. “Nnh!”

“Ah ah ah, Dollface. That’s not gonna work.”

“Nugh! Lemmo go!”

You fight, of course you do, but it’s almost worse that way, as it only points out how comically mismatched you are to him. He laughs at you and holds down your thrashing body, barely even grunting from the effort of subduing you. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, chuckling breathily as he forces you down with one hand and strokes himself with the other. “I have to tell you, kotenok. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I hate you!” You manage to get a hand free and you flail, hitting and clawing at him. He inhales sharply as your nails scratch his face. He knocks your hand away with a surprised hiss and, wide eyed, touches the spot where a tiny line of red is welling up on his cheek. The next thing you know, he’s backhanding you, sending spots into your vision and knocking you out of your senses for a few seconds. Your ears ring and you blink, stunned.

His hand appears at your throat, squeezing, pressing up against the arteries. You briefly grapple with him, grabbing his forearm and fighting, but then his thumb notches into place and digs into your glands. Your cries taper off and you go limp with a pathetic, mewling whimper. “Nnnh …”

He leers down at you, adjusting his grip, still jerking his cock as he subdues you with the Hold. “Weak,” he says. “But that’s just how I like you.”

His thumb rubs in circles, sending a rush of liquid gold through your veins. It worsens the situation between your legs, and you can’t hide that any more than you can hide the humiliated tears that prick to your eyes as he shoves your dress up and rips your underwear straight off of you. He coos when he looks down and sees how wet you are. “Oh, omegechka.” He knees your legs further apart and drags his cockhead through your folds. “And this is you hating me?”

You shake with a silent sob, despising him with your whole being, hating yourself for reacting this way. Before James, you’d never met a man who coveted your omega nature so much, hadn’t known what it was to need an alpha that way, to have your body need him. And to think: you used to like it.

He lines himself up and sinks inside of you in one, unyielding push, forcing you to open to him, carving out his space inside of you. You cry out at the force of it, body clamping down hard and the delicate skin at your entrance stinging from the stretch, but he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding in deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, laughing darkly when it makes you squeal. “Oh, you sensitive?” He does it again, and again, doesn’t stop until he gets a high pitched, warbling moan from you. “Theere she is.” He digs his thumb in harder against your glands and stares right in your eyes as he watches the effect it has on you, soaking up the flush in your face and the furious tears welling at the corners of your eyes. “I know, Sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs. “You really can’t help it, can you?” You whimper and he nods along in mock sympathy. “Poor little thing. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to need it that bad.”

“James,”

He pulls out halfway and shoves back in, hard, rumbling in pleasure when it elicits another yelp from you. His other hand grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the soft give of your body. He hums dirtily. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You look good for having just pushed out that pup. You look healthy.” You whine in protest and he fucks in hard again, baring his teeth in a mean smile. “Yeah, momma, you heard me.” He pulls out, thrusts back in.

“Ss-stop.”

He laughs. “Don’t be like that, krasotka [Pretty(n.)]. I like it. You always were too skinny for my taste.” He runs his hand from your waist up to the top of your dress, yanking it down along with the cup of your bra, and groaning when your swollen breast spills out. You squeal in rage as he curses quietly, eyes going molten and unfocused. “Fuck, Honey, look at you.”

You start thrashing again hard, trying to hit him, but you only get a glancing blow to the side of his head before he refixes his hand on your throat and clamps down in another Hold. He gives you a firm shake. “Settle down. I told you: I like it..”

“Nnn, fuck you!” You spit on him, but he only laughs and wipes it away, leering down at you and continuing gleefully,

“Shouldn’t be skinny like some damn underwear model. Mm mn, naw. Now you’re nice and soft, just like you should be. Somethin’ for Alpha to grab onto. Bitty waist and a fat ass.” He grabs your waist again and pulls you down into the next roll of his hips, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside of you that makes stars burst in your vision.

“Ah!”

“Mmhm. Right there baby? Yeah, thaat’s the spot. I remember.” He’s panting open-mouthed, breathless as he taunts you, “I remember everything. What you like. How you feel. The sounds you make. Fuck.” He shoves into you hard and holds there, his licked-red lips curling up wickedly. “Your cunt’s fluttering around me, Sweetheart. Clamping down so fucking hard.”

“Nnh!”

He laughs, but his smile slackens as his own pleasure continues to build. He angles back and looks down your body, stares at where his cock is disappearing inside of you with lewd, wet sounds. “Shit, momma. And this pussy snapped back real good, didn’t it?”

You cry out angrily, but it’s what he wants: to see you aroused and humiliated and furious at him. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against you hard on the end of each, brutal thrust; his open belt and the zip of his fly digging into your ass every time he grinds inside. “You haven't been fucking anybody,” he says smugly. “How long’s it really been, mamochka? Hm? How long since another man was in this cunt?”

You moan miserably, his cock driving hard against your walls, too rough but not painful enough to keep it from feeling good. James is big, has an alpha’s cock, and it’s never been a physical possibility for him to be inside of you and not rub against every spot that makes your body light up in pleasure. You shake your head and try to close your eyes, but he pushes his hand up harder underneath your jaw, shaking you. “Uh uh. Look at me.”

You can’t fight off the command of his Voice, not when he’s already dominating you so completely. Your eyes open against your will, full of tears, and he rumbles in satisfaction.

“Better.”

Every whimper and mewl you make drives him on, stoking the angry satisfaction that’s burning in his eyes—eyes that you can’t look away from as you cry out again and again, little “Ah, ah, ah's” that interrupt the cadence of your skin slapping together, all of his eager growls and satisfied grunts.

“That’s it, shlyukha,” he pants, hips snapping in hard, again and again. “You—ugh—you let Alpha know how good that feels. Don’t hold it back from me.” His breathing is getting heavier the closer he gets, his composure and even his anger losing some of their hold as he fucks you harder, sinks down on you farther, covers you with his body fully as he ruts into you in pursuit of his climax. “Shit,” he hisses not far from your ear, face stuffed in your neck.

You keen high in your throat at his proximity to your bonding glands—a plaintive sound that directly contradicts the panicked ‘no!’ that flashes in your brain. His hand leaves the front of your neck and scoops around behind instead, gripping you at the nape in a Scruff that feels just as toe-curlingly right as the Hold had.

For a very split second, his breath hitches and his growling trips into a needy whimper. “O-oh …” And that’s when you feel it: his knot starting to catch on the end of each thrust.

“Ah!” You cry out sharply and grab onto him, helpless to keep your body from seeking out more, from clinging to him and clamping down hard as his knot grows and triggers you into orgasm. “Hhgnn …”

He goes feral when he feels your body locking down on him, growling and shoving in and grinding to ensure that he catches inside and ties you together. His hand abandons your neck entirely as he gives in to the instinct to rut, both arms wrapping around your waist, scooping under your back and holding you still for him to fuck furiously against. The tug of his knot inside your cunt makes you sob and come harder, losing sense of yourself as the pleasure cuts through you like a knife.

“Fuck, fuck, ohhfuck …” The sound of his deep voice, so lost in the desperation and helplessness of his own pleasure, makes your belly flare hot with new arousal even as you’re coming down the other side of it. You gasp and pant, and eventually whimper as the bliss dissipates and you become more aware of him on top of you, grunting and groaning and fucking into your tie as he rides out the long, debilitating climax of an alpha.

You keep your eyes closed and cry, hating that it still feels good as he fucks into you, grinds down on your clit and gives your another orgasm, and another. You wait for him to finish as your brain fills with the high that comes after, that unavoidable pink cloud that you know is going to seal your fate and make you helpless to him for the next thirty minutes, at least. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head in the direction of the pillows.

As the high starts to take you, you think about how, if you’d just kept your gun holstered behind by the headboard like you’d planned, you could be blowing his brains out right about now.

A.N.: Soooo ... This is the rape-iest thing I've ever ever written. I hope y'all are okay. Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that this fic WILL lighten up and not be quite so, well, rapey, in the future. Thanks for reading! 💖Sarah

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love2poetry · 6 months ago

Text

loml

⤷ mcu!peter parker x artsy!reader

𝜗𝜚. . . synopsis. you are both peter's love and loss of his life

𝜗𝜚. . . general tag. mostly fluff & some angst

.ᐟ. . . content warnings. if you see any grammar mistakes, keep them to yourself pls thx<3 might be cringe tbh

♫⋆｡ our field of dreams, engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and i'll still see it until i die, you're the loss of my life

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ sophia's letter ! i wrote this as it's raining and can you guess what scented candle i have lighting? 😝 anyway i went through a depressive episode for no reason so i took a hiatus, but i might be back for the summer. i often go through another one when school starts so im gonna do the most now. i was thinking of making a part two for this using 'peter' but idk. anyway, HIIII NEW GRACIE ALBUM THIS WEEK RAGHH

prequel

wc. 1,926

spring had just began, more warm days after months of freezing cold weather. today, however, seemed to be one of the few cold, rainy days february had left. you had finished homework earlier today, always wanting to have your weekends free as much as you can, so you decided to occupy your mind with something else more calming.

after finishing the last of your ap psychology assignment, you walked to your kitchen and made yourself a quick matcha. as you measured the green powder into your cat mug - a lovely gift peter got you because one of the cats in the bug is a calico, like your own cat - a thud was heard from your room. it was followed by an 'ow' quickly after, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

peter.

at the sudden noice, autumn, your calico cat, run cautiously out of your room. after finishing your matcha with some creamer, you also walked to your room.

peter looked towards the door upon sensing you. his spidey sense usually only triggered when danger was near, however, when it came to you, peter was able to feel you. he couldn't describe it, but there was something in you that made him feel safe. it was a warm feeling that ran down his spine, and maybe it was because he was in your room, but he could also smell the vanilla lotion you love to use. everything about you made him feel like he was engulfed by a soft blanket.

so it was no surprise that the first thing peter did was offer you a smile. you automatically smile back of course. how could you not when he looks at you like that, like he was going to somehow bring you the moon he often photographed because it made him think of you.

'it's raining,' peter pointed with a boyish grin. the obvious pitter patter coming from your windows made you tilt your head playfully. 'you don't say.'

peter patrolled the streets of new york everyday as his alter ego, spider-man. but on days like this, he likes to use the weather as an excuse to come see you earlier instead. he has a build in heater in his suit of course, but in his opinion it doesn't work as well as a good cuddling season with you.

peter sets his masks down on your night stand. 'cuddles?'

you took a sip of your matcha as you walked to your desk. 'i have to work on my portfolio.' you heard him walk to your dresser that sat on the corner of your room where you had a drawer with his clothes to change to after patrol. 'i thought you were done with it?'

'yea, it's just,' your fingers glossed over your sketches. junior year was ending and soon college applications will start. it had been your dream to attend the art school of chicago, and now that applications are around the corner, you want to make sure everything is perfect. 'it doesn't feel complete.'

once peter was out of his wet suit and into his favorite pair of bright pink hello kitty pants matched with a plain white tee, he sneaked his arms around you, taking your comforting scent in. you felt him place a kiss in your hair, 'i think it's perfect.'

you turn to look at him with an unimpressed expression. his smile widens and he can't fight the urge to kiss you any longer. peter gently presses his lips into yours. he's always been delicate with his kisses, especially after being spider-man. you knew it was his way to ground himself after a day of fighting criminals, so you let him be as soft as he needed.

you loved it that way. you loved him that way.

peter pulls away first. 'i have some photos i took last week. you could draw some if you need.'

peter's hobby went hand in hand with your art. thanks to being spider-man, he was able to take some shots of new york no one else would be able to obtain, and he often let you sketch them, so often that half of his storage is pictures he takes for you to draw. the other half is probably of you.

you hum in agreement, still looking into peter's eyes. you have never loved brown as much as you do now.

'tomorrow.' peter took your mug in one hand, then used the other to hold your hand while he drag you over to bed. 'today, we cuddle.' he set your bug on the night stand.

you smile. 'okay.'

you two settled under your warm covers with you closest to your mug incase you want a sip, but before you could find a comfortable position, peter stood up, muttering a quick 'wait!'.

you frown, but understood what he was doing when he pulled a lighter from your drawer in the night stand. he lit up the candle that rested on top. apple pumpkin. you bought a few pumpkin scented candles last fall, and peter grew to love this specific one. he wasn't a fan of scented candles because of his enhanced smell, but this one was subtle enough for him to enjoy without getting a headache.

once peter returned to bed, he wrapped his arms around your waist with his head on your chest. he slightly tilted his head to plant a kiss into your skin. 'i love you.'

his whispered confession filled you with butterflies. you don't know what you did to be lucky enough to love this boy in your arms, let alone be loved back by him. one of your hands wrapped around his back, while the other caressed his check, slightly squishing his face. his chuckles echoed in the room along the rain when you started kissing his face.

two kisses on his right check, two more on the left, three on his forehead, and one on the bridge of his nose.

'i love you more.'

a bright smile stayed on peter's face as he shook his head. 'that's not possible.' your smile matched his, 'i think it is. no, i know it is.'

'i love you most.' before you could disagree, you felt his hands sneak under your shirt, cutting you off by tickling your sides. you squeak in surprise and try to squirm away. your laughter fills peter's ears, 'okay! i can't breathe!'

peter paused his movements and you inhale to suggest, 'we both love each other equally.'

peter makes a thinking face. 'i'll let you have this win,' he rolled his eyes playfully before settling in your arms again.

the two of you stayed intertwined in bed until you felt peter's breathing slow down, indicating he had fallen asleep. his weight was on your side now, but looking down at him you decided you wanted to engrave this moment forever.

swiftly, you reached for the small sketchbook you keep on your night stand. thankfully, you had left a pencil there too. you sat up slightly, making sure not to disturb peter's slumber. his arms tighten around you making you freeze, but the light snores coming from peter tell you he is still deep in his sleep.

you find a clean page and begin drawing shapes until you like how they all sit together. you move to the face proportions, not focusing on shading yet. your hand makes the hair part look effortless, and it may be from the many times you've drawn these curls. moving back to the face, you use your finger to blend the lines better.

finishing the rough draft, your focus goes to the nose, moving to the freckles you have memorized.

'stalker.'

peter's deep voice caused a blush to creep into your cheeks. it wasn't the first time peter caught you drawing him, he has seen the many sketches and paintings you've done of him, but you still shy way when his eyes follow every detail of him you've embedded into your mind.

if only you knew peter feels the same. to know the person he loves more than anything has memorized him, his body and soul, fills him with an indescribable feeling. he does the same with his camera. most of his photos are moments you've shared together that he wants to remember forever.

peter not having storage on his phone from all the candid pictures he has of you is his version of when you learned to draw the lines that form around his eyes when he smiles.

'shut up,' you nudge your leg against his. there's smiles on both of your faces as peter snuggles closer to you.

the room is rather dark by now, only the candle peter had previously lit and another lamp you always have create a cozy atmosphere. the warm glow of the lamp reaches your features enough for peter to see and he takes his time to draw his own painting of you in his mind.

the flickering flame of the candle mixing with the apple pumpkin scent ignite a perfect portrait of peter you ache to fabricate, you take a mental picture for later.

you could be here with peter for all time.

neither of you knew that it was only momentary.

peter climbed through the window, a plastic bag in hand. he pulled his mask off, wet hair falling over his eyes.

the loud thunder from outside shook his apartment. it started raining earlier that day, so peter decided to cut his patrolling short. he hadn't done it in a while.

his body was freezing from the harsh wind that he old suit would have kept him warm from. he walked towards a basket full of his clothes that sat in a corner, that was his dresser for the time being, and grabbed a gray shirt.

when peter picked up the shirt, he caught a glimpse of what once were a bright magenta hello kitty bottoms, is now a dull shade of pink. with a sinking feeling, peter decided to put them on as well.

he made it to his twin size bed where he left the bag and took out the single purchase he made.

a small scented candle. apple pumpkin.

once lit, he set it on the small dining table his studio apartment came with. he stared at it until the soft scent filled his nose. his throat closes when memories of you that are still imprinted in his mind come back. peter feels his left eye twitch as tears threaten to spill, but he refuses to cry.

he can't afford a breakdown. he has no one to turn to anymore. peter doesn't know if he can pick himself back up if he breaks. it was easier with tony because he had may and friends who cared about him. but especially because he had you.

now may is gone, he's a stranger to his friends, and every detail of peter you had memorized has been erased.

peter turns back to his bed and pulls the covers to get in. he continues to stare at the flame emotionless, slowly dissociating from his lonesome.

even after everything, peter can't comprehend how you could go from perfectly drawing the creases on his lips without a reference to not even remembering his name.

do you still have those pieces of him?

do you still draw him even now like it is muscle memory?

is he in your dreams like you are in his?

you will continue to occupy peter's mind until the day being spider-man finally kills him. you were his deepest love, and now his greatest loss.

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 7

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 8,800+

The Storyteller - Sapsorrow"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

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Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @buggyenjoyer @thesailus @under-kitty @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @quirkyrascal @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Thank you for your patience, I had this chapter beta-read twice. Thank you to @since-im-already-here and @vespidphoenix for their kindness in volunteering to do that for me! Such love and appreciation for you both.

Song Suggestions: Casper's Lullaby,

Their Wedding Serendade: Turning Page - Sleeping At Last

“I will not marry him.”

Her voice held such sorrow, but her cries fell on deaf ears as her governess began to tug her hair into place with the rough scrape of a bone comb. Thrown onto her hands, pale gloves thrust up to her elbows by the hands of her ladies maids; her shoulder straps readjusted to float down her forearms like beams of radiant moonlight.

“He has heard your demands, and seen them done. You are his princess...”—her governess’ voice paused while she shook her head to rid her eyes of her own tears—“...and now you are his bride. You bound yourself to him the moment you placed that damned band over your unity finger.” The small quiver in her tone had the princess’ eyes spilling over with a fresh stream of hot tears.

Immediately springing to her feet and snatching her hair out of the firm grip of her ladies maid, she flung herself against the corner of the room. Her face was littered with tears, her eyes swollen and lip bruised from the force of her teeth clamping on them.

“My princess,” the governess spoke, her hands quivering as they reached out in an anxiety induced panic, “You have been training your whole life to marry royalty. This was a title you were born to bear. You are to be queen of your lands, ruler of your home country. With your union to the king-.”

“-I will not marry him!” She beat her gloved hands against the wall, her enclosed fists almost shattering her bones atop the cobblestone walls. Sobs rocked her shoulders, her wails echoing throughout the hallway and flooded the ceremony space with her grief. Attendees held a similar somber expression, along with royal subjects celebrating with glee at the prospect of a new queen.

“My lady,” the governess’ voice shook as she stepped closer to the shaking princess and placed her hand over her shaking shoulder, “My lady, please.”

The bloodshot eyes of the royal princess snapped up to her with a cold and frightening stare.

“What would you have me do, my governess? Wed this man who is more than twice my age? Dine with this man, consummate a union with this man? A man who already rules over these lands as king? A man who i-is-...”

Her eyes fluttered closed as a fresh surge of tears fell from her darkened orbs.

“A man who is my father?”

The princess rounded on her ladies in waiting, her eyes now incandescent with helpless rage. “What would you do?” she continued. “What would any of you do, were you in my place? The law of the land binds me to this ring. I have become plagued by an unnatural and grotesque curse-.” Her voice halted in her throat, plagued by her own revelation.

That is exactly what this was. This was a curse.

A curse on her soul to bind her in matrimony to her own flesh and blood. Where other children dreamed of fairytale romance, being spirited away into the arms of a lover, she was bound by fate to this ring.

The princess’s gaze landed on a pot of water hanging in the fireplace. As she walked in that direction, her eyes never leaving it, the water went from simmering to bubbling to boiling over. Hardening her resolve, she grasped the iron handle and removed it from its place above the fire.

“My lady! What are you-,” the calls of her ladies in waiting were silenced by a single look from the governess.

The princess’ sobs began to crack and cackle into maniacal and sinister laughter.

“I will curse you. I will curse all of you,” she booms, casting the glove from her left hand to reveal a violet ring encrusted with an array of several stones bound within a thick band. Nine stones of unique colors danced within the light, their forms melded into a large central stone in the middle. The green hue of moss overshadowed the radiance of the smaller stones, the thick band dwarfing her unity finger.

“If you are thinking of casting it into the fire, my lady,” the governess stepped closer, her hands held with palms facing outwards in defense, “The damage is already done. You are bound to marry him, there is nothing you can do.”

The princess flung the band from her finger and threw the object into the iron pot.

“In that hopelessness, I shall thee bind,” she intones in a hundred voices, at once of the deepest bass and highest soprano. The attendees within her chambers stepped back, some thrust onto their knees under the powerful boom of her voice.

“Whosoever shall find, claim or attune to these crafts, their souls shall be cursed under the plague of unity,” she continued, her hair shifting in colors and tones to several shades closer to death, “May their suffering feed my heart with gladness and life, as my suffering brings gladness onto thee.”

“-My lady,” the governess spoke, her eyes widening in fear as she witnessed the princess wither beneath her curses, “My lady, please-.”

“-And as my yearning for a love true and just shall never be quenched,” the princess’ voice hitched, her own tone dominant within the vocal strands of external forces, “I will allow the wearer to place a plague of conditions on their heart the moment the craft is thrust upon them.”

Her hair whipped in the unnatural wind, the ring now smelting down into a lava of molten gold. The gems began dancing within the pale light as smoke poured from them in hues darker than night.

“Should their conditions never be completed,” the princess continued, her heart swelling with vicious rage, “I will claim their souls and bind them to my own in eternal suffering a year from the day it begins.” She ripped a fistful of her vibrant hair, placing it within the concoction alongside her tears.

The ladies in waiting, the maids, and the governess clutched their hearts and covered their screams with their hands as the clouds of smoke spread through the chambers.

“My lady!” The governess shrieked, “Princess, please! You do not know what it is you are making. This unnatural phylactery has no place in the lands of the living. My princess-.”

“Your Queen,” her voice boomed, her pupil-less gaze snapping over to her governess. Her face contorted into an unnatural and cool gray tone, her vibrant hair lifeless in hue while whipping around her face within waves of spectral ocean.

“My queen,” the governess repeated, bowing her head to the royal witch. Her hue returned to her, the gold simmering down as she poured the liquid onto the coals below the surface. An unnatural steam rose within the flames, the vapors smelling of metallic blood mixed with the sweetness of honey.

“I-I just-...” the princess wailed in defeat, her shoulders slouched, “-I just wanted to find love, governess. I wanted so desperately to find peace with a spouse of my own choosing. I wanted a partner to court me; to woo me, to cherish me. I never wanted-.”

“Sapsorrow, your king awaits you,” A voice called from behind the door, interrupting the unnatural scene within. As the ladies glanced nervously between the princess and the door, the final words of the princess’ confession bound all but one stone within nine rings, leaving the central moss agate laying dormant, as if awaiting a final command.

“I just wanted a love that was truly mine.”

The echo of those final words plagued your mind, dancing as the concept of time began to mould from the past and spring you into your future. The repetition of ‘truly mine’ rotated and stirred within your slumber, breaking the peace you had once found for yourself beneath your bedsheets. You catapulted from your huddled pile of blankets into an upright position; your damp hair clung to your brow and sweat stuck your nightdress to your body. Your plagued slumber left you with more questions than answers.

Had the spectre wanted you to see that image? Did she have control over your mind, did your attunement to the moss agate ring bind to you? Drawing your right hand up to your face, you rotated your thumb and index finger over your temples to rid yourself of the nightmare that seemed to persist each time you lay down to slumber.

A light rap at your door had you jolting from your thoughts, snapping your head towards the wall and hastily making your way over to the interruption.

“Governess!” A hushed feminine whisper called to you, “Governess, can I come in?” Perona continued her polite rapping, the drum of her knuckles gathering up rapidity against the wood in an anxious thump. You sighed, shaking your head and allowing a small smile to dance over your features.

Collecting the iron handle beneath your hands, you open the door and immediately become overwhelmed by the embrace of your pink-haired pupil. She squealed into your ear, bouncing happily on the balls of her feet as she attempted to twirl you.

“You are getting married to Mihawk today!” Her voice squeaked with high-pitched enthusiasm, “Have you tried on your dresses? Have you written your vows? Did you read his letter yet? Have you thought about your perfume? How are you doing your hair? Are you doing it in three different styles for the three different outfits?”

The sheer rapidity of her questions had you unable to find an anchor to hold them. You fluttered your eyelashes shut, shaking your head hastily and attempting to wrap your mind around her flurry of words.

“Of course you haven’t read his letter yet, I still have it! I am scatterbrained today, my lady. I can barely contain all of the excitement!” She continued, breaking away her contact from you and thrusting a wax-sealed envelope into your hands.

“Perona-?” You began, your voice halting as she danced past you into your chambers and staring at the two mannequins in the corner of your bedroom beside your changing shield. Her voice caught in her throat, all air relinquished from ballooning her lungs. You turned to face her, holding the envelope close to your chest as a warmer smile drew itself to your features.

“O-Oh-... Oh m-my-...” Perona’s words found no harbour against her lips, all thoughts became silenced within her mind as she hovered over to the dresses. You allowed a warm giggle to rise within your throat at her fawning over the objects.

“Do you like them?” You asked her, cocking your head over to the right hand side to find a better angle to read her face.

“They are beautiful, my lady,” she whispered, reaching her hand towards the sleeve of Sir Crocodile’s creation and halting before her digits found purchase, “Can I touch them-?”

“-Don’t you dare, Perona,” A gruff, masculine voice called from the corner of the room. You snapped your face over to the doorway, noticing Zoro donned in lengthy tan sleeping trousers and a dark yukata hanging limply at the front.

“Zoro!” You gasped, drawing your chemise closer to contain your form from his eyes, “It is one thing having Perona in my personal suite, but another to have a young gentleman while I’m clad in my nightdress.” Zoro shook his head, his wolfy grin taunting you beneath his down tilted head.

“Would you change your tune if I said I have wine?” Zoro’s brow quirked up, revealing a green bottle from behind his back with a small, nonchalant shrug. You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head and removing your arms from concealing your chemise from vision.

“Have you got a saber tucked somewhere on your person, Zoro?” You quirked your own brow up in question. Zoro laughed, turning away from his lean to reveal three swords clinging limply against his hip.

“You can take your pick, my lady,” he shrugged, his hand lying on the hilt of his favoured blade. You opened your arms to him, gesturing for him to enter your suite with an elaborate flurry of motions.

“Then by all means, my green-haired pupil,” you mixed your tone somewhere balanced between absolute sarcasm and unwithheld appreciation, “Welcome to my humble abode. Shall we begin by getting ourselves ready for the ceremony, or having a drink before breakfast?”

Zoro answered wordlessly with a small smirk. Withdrawing the white blade from within its scabbard to claim the cork from the top of the wine bottle, and unlatching the wax by severing the rim with his sword. He reached towards your small dining table, upturning three of the four teacups from their place atop their saucers and pouring the amber liquid to the brim.

“You gonna open your letter?” he asked, nodding to the envelope clutched within your hands and reminding you of its presence, “We’ll do a small cheers and give you a bit of privacy to read it.”

“I hope you are both planning on giving Mihawk a similar wake-up call,” you laughed, reaching forward and claiming a teacup from Zoro’s outstretched grasp. Zoro chuckled, shaking his head as he raised his own teacup to clash the rim with your own.

“Oh, he’s been up for hours,” Zoro confessed, Perona giggling as he handed her her own teacup, “He’s been brooding in the ceremony space: hovering over the decor and pacing, last time I checked.” Perona struck the corner of her teacup against Zoro’s before meeting the edge with your own. Your brows furrowed, glancing from the corner of your eye outside your bedroom window to seek out the elevation of the sun.

“How many hours remain between now and the ceremony?” you asked Perona with a partial anxious quiver depicted within. Perona stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against yours in a small gesture of comfort.

“You’ve got two hours, my lady,” she whispered, prompting your heart to nearly stop beating and your breath to halt in your lungs, “That’s why I thought to wake you-.”

“-And why I thought to bring you booze,” Zoro added, throwing back his teacup and downing the contents in one heaping gulp, “Just to take the edge off.” Your hands stuttered, taking a small sip of the wine within your cup before setting it back down.

“I thank you both for your thoughtfulness, my dears,” you gave them a small downturned smile, your brows triangulating in the center of your forehead, “I have thoroughly enjoyed my time getting to know you as my pupils-.”

“You’re going to be our lady now, my lady,” Perona added to your thoughts, “No longer just our governess, but something akin to an adoptive mother beside Mihawk as our apprehensive father.” Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the thought of becoming unified not only to a spouse today, but upholding a promise to chaperone the two wards at a place of higher standing.

“Don’t think too hard about it, my lady,” Zoro reassured, his brow furrowing down. Placing his mug down on the table, he reached his hands up to clasp your shoulders beneath his heavy-handed grip, “You’ve already got so much goin’ on in your head, just know-,'' his breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. He was bewitched by the charm of your melancholy and apprehensive expression, your doubts begin to spiral behind your eyes.

‘You are not good enough for this role. This is not your place. This is not a role you were born to play. This was a role that always belonged to someone of higher standing; someone of higher class-.’

“-Know we would be proud to have you as our lady, not just a governess hired to serve a role,” Zoro continued, collecting your chin beneath his fingertips to hold your gaze with his own. Perona stepped her body closer to you, weaving her arms around your waist and hastily drawing her cheek to press against your back.

“I can hear her too, my lady,” Perona whispered into your back, prompting you to break your eyes away from Zoros to glance over your shoulder. Perona’s large, dark eyes looked up at you with sorrow and understanding held within her orbs, promises of empathy propelling her utterances, “And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.”

Heart swelling at her utterances, your eyes began to pool over with gladness. The mist of your eyes clouded your vision as Perona continued to sing her praises into you.

“I love you, my lady,” Perona hushed, her eyes beginning to dance with her own emotion. Her lip quivered, looking up into your eyes with true adoration and love at you, “We both do, don’t we Zoro?” At the sound of his name, Zoro’s breath caught itself within his mouth for the second time.

You trailed your eyes back over to his, breaking away from your contact with Perona, and meeting his hazelnut orbs with your own once more. No whisper of a word, nor utterance fled his lips; all emotion depicted in the slight shudder of his eye and quirk up of his lips. Sighing out, you drew your arms around Zoro’s waist, turning your head to feel his heartbeat below his warm chest. Perona continued to nuzzle against your back as Zoro’s hands on your shoulders snaked over your back and pulled you both closer to him.

“I am so glad to have met you both, dears,” you whispered, scrunching your eyes shut and deeply inhaling your insecurities, exhaling your worries into the air as they held you firmly.

“Zoro, you need a bath. You stink, and I can smell you from here,” Perona called over your shoulder, “I pity your proximity, my lady. He’s probably spilling that musky smell onto you, meaning we’ll have to bath you too- My lady! We’re running out of time!” Perona immediately broke away from the embrace, tugging at your hips to break from Zoro’s grip and leading you to the changing shield.

“You: bath,” Perona ordered, pointing her finger at Zoro, “And you,” she snapped her eyes over to you, “Moon-dress first, right?” You sighed, nodding your dismissal of Zoro with a light smile. Zoro grunted a cough, adjusting his waistband around his yukata, and nodded in return before exiting your chambers. He halted at the table, collecting the half-drunk wine bottle by the neck, before heading through the door and latching it again with a small click.

“My lady, the moon first?” Perona asked once more, taking your attention from the door to gaze into her eyes. You nodded in confirmation, prompting her to shove you behind your changing screen to rid your body of its night chemise. You folded the chemise over the door of the screen, as the variety of items presented themselves to you in order from lesser to grander.

“Perona, sweetheart,” you called to her, your voice holding an anxious laugh, “There is far too much material here for me to continue thrusting this onto my body.” Perona laughed in response, walking over to the screen and peeking over the top of the wooden frame. She inhaled deeply, a small squeak propelling her inhale. Her brows rose in excitement, her eyes upturning in glee at the first part of the assembly of the moon dress.

The bodice of the dress clung to your breasts, an ovular shape wisping in layers of tulle and smoothed satin to draw over the midpoint of your shoulders. Trailing down from its seamless layers, your back was joined with an elaborate assortment of ridges and latches. Upon investigating it initially, you were unsure of why such items were joined in bands of silver, onyx and gold to its back until it hit you.

This was truly the moon.

The silvery hue of the beams, the mystery of fluttered blues and pale whites cascading from end to end; all bound by circular divots of darkened onyx and quartz to resemble faces and craters atop the lunar surface. The many layers of skirts laid a train ending in the same ovular shape as the neckline atop your chest.

“O-Oh, my g-goodness,” Perona’s voice managed to stutter out, her soul mirrored within her expression of youthful adoration and excitement, “You look so beautiful, my lady. As luminescent and radiant as the moon in peak of nightful.” You sighed with your smile, brows upturning and weight falling away from your shoulders.

You gave Perona a small twirl, the material pooling and drifting as effortlessly as warm mercury over cool stone. She gave you a small applause and a small jittery cry of joy before ushering you over to sit at your vanity. Glancing up at your features, the illumination of the dress mixed perfectly with the tone of your skin and hair.The task had been executed flawlessly.

“Now then, my lady,” she said, shaking her head and clapping her hands, “I am going to leave you to get yourself primed, painted and dressed with the jewellery-,” Her eyes widened, “-Jewellery, my lady! I have to get the jewellery!” She hastily turned back around and fled to the door, flinging it wide and immediately cowering away from a large, balled fist descending to where wood once was.

You recognised the scent first, the smell of cigar tobacco and ashen smoke wafting into your chambers mixing with the expensive and earthy cologne of the hulking and boorish-.

“-Sir Crocodile,” you uttered as you began to rise from your vanity. Turning to face him, the intimidating aura of the hulking man hung behind the threshold of your door.

“My lady,” he nodded his head in response, his head ducking below the frame to meet the purple hue of his eyes with your own, “May I enter your space?” Perona sucked in a breath, darting her eyes between the man at the door and you in your bridal dress in a small panic. Without turning his head, Sir Crocodile’s eyes met with Perona’s through the corner of his narrowed gaze.

“I harbour no ill intent with your mistress, little mouse,” Perona pouted at his words, prompting the twitch of his smirk to pull at the corner of his lips. He cleared his voice, removing the cigar from his lips and extinguishing the flame atop the stone wall beside the door frame; an action prompting your lips to curl in a small snarl.

“As I were the means to provide you with such a dress,” his sinister smirk drew up to his cheeks, the huff of cigar smoke pooling from his lips, “I desired to be the first to see you in your radiancy. How are you enjoying your daw' alqamar-,” he shook his head in reprimand for his verbal linguistic slip, “-Your moonlight, my lady?”

Several thoughts lingered in your mind: a reprimand for using your wall to douse the burnt end of his cigar, asking him to leave your space to continue dressing yourself for your wedding, thanking him for the skill that designed and crafted the garment over your body. Elevating to your feet and walking over to the door frame with precision and grace, you halted your movement and dipped into a low stooped curtsey.

“Sir Crocodile,” you spoke in a low and stern tone, “I would offer my praises and my gratitude to you presently,” your tone twitched in subtle agitation as you rose to your feet, “But I am a bride, and my groom is awaiting me.” Crocodile hummed through his nose, his smirk continuing to hold against his lips as he stared down at you. He took a moment to stare at your bodice, his brow twitching as he cocked his head.

After taking a moment's pause, his eyes softened to a point almost unavailable to an untrained eye.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” he offered in a hushed whisper, “That dress was made for you by my means,” he stooped lower, remaining outside the threshold but hovering closer to you in proximity, “And you wear it as it you were born to don such a garment.”

At those final words, both Perona and Sir Crocodile left you in your solace to prepare yourself for your wedding ceremony. As you applied the final stroke of paint to dance atop your lips, from the corner of your eye; you spotted the parchment paper sealed with a wax stamp not dissimilar to the letter of summons from Mihawk those months ago.

Placing down your lip-paint brush, you reached for the letter and unfolded the crease and snapping the small seal holding it closed. Immediately, your eyes widened at its contents:

“My Beloved Wife,

In light of harbouring no such secrets between us; I have written the vows I desired to forge with you, and present them to you before we meet for the first time as husband and wife.”

You halted your reading, the swell of emotion elevating your heart to a risen drumbeat of both adoration and anticipation. Quickly reading through the customs he wished to claim over the ceremony, your smile broke your sorrow as you truly witnessed how much thought he placed into each declaration and decree. So many elements, so many customs you were learning held meaning for your husband to be; you found yourself awestruck.

“I have no such means for communication with you before we meet to truly know if you agree with the terms.

But know this,

I appreciated you for your skill as a governess to our wards, I found myself smiling at your playfulness as my Lost-Lady, and I am looking forward to the future that we will find ourselves forging; unified as one.

My darling, I do

I will.

And I will always love you.

Dracule Mihawk ~ Your Devoted Husband.”

A small drop soaked the page, swelling the signature lovingly scrolled ink into the bottom of the page, smudging its words. Shocked, you rose your hand to your cheek to find a damp trail of tears falling against your cheeks; completely unaware of when you had begun to cry. A small laugh flung from your lips, prompting you to sniff and shake your head before setting to the task of reapplying your paints and perfumes to the highest quality.

The final step was placing the cascading veil atop your hair and covering your eyes, sheer in material appearing to illuminate pale blue under the lights. In your hand, you clutched your bouquet of lilies, roses, and baubles of babies’ breath. Nestled into the arrangement peered throughout were small wisps of blue forget-me-nots, a small nod to your prior filterless encounter with your Farm-Hand and you as his Lost-Lady.

The halls were littered with similar flowers, illuminating the area with bulbs of roses, flurries of jasmines and hiding within the scattered arrangements: the same innocent and small forget-me-nots in clusters joined with twine. Although walking alone, you felt the presence of all guests loitering within the ceremonial space of Castle Kuraigana to propel you.

Murmurs of hushed voices, small conversations resonated within the halls and beyond had your heart beating with irregular jumps in anticipation for what awaits you behind the large, closed doors. You sucked in a breath, the trail of your moonlight dress dancing along the lengthy hallway for each movement of your feet.

‘You are truly going through with this, are you? Joining yourself to a role that you have no place in unifying with-.’

“-Sapsorrow,” your hushed voice rang into the air, the atmosphere cooling at the immediate utterance of her name. Whispers and hushed hums alerted you of her presence standing beside you in her spectral regality.

“You dare speak my name, Governess?” the voice to your side answered you, your spine and follicles standing in tingles at her tone. You rolled your neck on your shoulders, twitching your hands by your side to rid it of your anxiety as you turned to face the spirit haunting you.

Her hollowed eyes framing her pupil-less gaze found your face, her sinister smile resting comfortably against her lips. Hair swiping in a wind not present as she moved, her dress pooling at her feet like a flag within water. She was a horror to behold, but there was a deep melancholy reflected in her eyes.

“Queen Sapsorrow,” you stooped low, bowing yourself almost to the floor with your humility, “I express my gratitude to you.” You heard her spectral voice hitch in her unnatural throat, her animosity fleeing from her in the wake of curiosity. Before she opened her mouth to speak her taunts to you, you spoke once more as you rose to your feet.

“I have no parents; no father, nor mother,” you confessed to her, your eyes depicting your honesty through each word spoken, “No family to call my own, until this very moment.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out your hand to bare your right palm to her.

“I was alone in this world, drifting from place to place and finding purpose as a governess - an excellent governess,” you corrected yourself with a smile. Her uneasy and cautious expression unwavering for each parting moment you held her hostage with your words.

“You are the reason I am here, and I will forever be grateful to the future you had bound to me,” She clicked her tongue at you, scrunching her nose to reveal her snarl at you. You hardened your resolve and continued, “Two wards: a man akin to a roguish son, alongside a beautiful and delightful daughter. In this unity: I have found a love that is truly mine,” you concluded, a warmer smile drawing up to reveal your teeth to her in a kind smile.

Sapsorrow’s eyes widened, her unbeaten heart fluttering and reigniting within her chest at hearing her own words reflected from the lips of another.

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk?” you offered her, stepping closer to her and continuing to hold your hand elevated to the front of you.

“Excuse me?” Her spectral voice called, her tone somewhere between offended and bewildered at such an offering.

“Would you care to join me as I take the walk, Sapsorrow?” you again offered, gesturing to her spectral hand with your forehead, “From what I know of your history in the tale once told to me, you deserve your own happy ending. Walk with me, and I will be glad to share mine.”

“You think my curse ends with just you?” Her form faded from vision, her voice reverberating in the hall outside of the ceremony with you, “Oh, I have eight more curses to awaken, you arrogant woman-.” Her voice held source from all corners of the hallway, “-Nine if you account for the clause that stupid tall blonde placed upon the band lying around that inked doctor’s neck!”

Her sinister cackle broke her sentence, unnerving you more than the words she was speaking,“I shall start with those who aided you in completing your conditions; the easiest of the three to ensnare will be the Crocodile, for I know where his ring lay-.”

Your breath hitched at her confession, her own words halting as she attempted to stuff them back into her undead lips. A rough spectral sigh drifted within the walls, her face once again revealed to your eyes. She looked softer, almost human now. Her hair was less wild, her face less horrifying, and her eyes soft and baring pupils within them behind her thick and lengthy eyelashes. The was truly beautiful, her sorrow depicted alongside an unfamiliar warmth in her undeath.

“I will allow your happiness to lie only with you, Lady of Kuraigana. You deserve peace today,” she confessed, a warm smile rising to her lips as she leant forward to take your hand, “Enjoy the time you have with your love.” She stepped forward, pressing her left hand against your offered right, a tingle dancing against your skin at the contact.

“This is where I leave you,” she confessed, floating backwards slowly towards the high ceilings, “But I will be watching your future closely.”

“Thank you, Sapsorrow,” you offered your gratuity by slinking down to another low bow. Halting her final exit by the upper window, she turned once more and glanced at the corner of her eye at you and smirked through the left hand corner of her lips.

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” her small laugh propelled one of your own to dance alongside hers, “If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas,” her beauty once again faded into the horrifying spectre you had initially seen her as, “I do not.”

Her spectral body disappeared from the window, a swell in orchestral melody commencing as soon as she departed from the space. You were once again drawn to this single moment, your heart beating now in anxiety of what your future held for you.

You were to become Lady of Kuraigana, bound to one of the former warlords of the seas. The World’s Greatest Swordsman as your beau, the Lord of this land you were now to call home. As you began to step towards the threshold of the door, the wooden barriers were pulled back by members of staff to reveal the attendees within. At the end of the ornately decorated row, your gaze immediately found linked with the honeyed hue of your beloved.

Flowers lined the pews within the large room, candles alight with warm flames to illuminate the shadowy row. All eyes snapped to you, gasps fleeing from their lips as they took in your incredible beauty dressed in an arrangement as radiant as the moon. You could audibly hear the smirk from the hulking Sir Crocodile, as praises of your dress were flung into the air with their comments and sighs.

The music swelled, a small smile drawing up to your face as you propelled yourself forward while clutching your bouquet close to your naval. You thanked your veil from shielding your nerves from prying eyes, a small blush dusting your cheeks as you shamelessly raked your eyes over the body of your intended.

His shirt was dipped into a deep ‘V’, tasteful frills decorating the hemline against his collarbone and neck. His overcoat lay open black in colour with the softest shade of mauve within the inner shield. Dark, leather pants were clasped by a golden buckle decorating his waist, the outer frame of his thighs supporting embellished embroidery in the similar mauve decorating his overcoat. Atop his head, his signature hat with his puffed, white feather dancing behind the broad brim and shielding his curled locks beneath it.

In all your time spent with Dracule Mihawk, you could safely assume you had a grasp on how to read the subtle changes in his stoic face. His lips were barely parted, his eyes only slightly widened and his face only a single shade away from his regular hue with the dusting of the palest pink. Once again, the thought hit you like a puff of cautious wind: you were to wed Lord Dracule Mihawk, become his wife and he your husband.

If his words to you were left unread and unwritten, you would have no doubt plaguing your mind at this very moment of one thing. Lord Dracule Mihawk was hopelessly, truly and deeply in love with you.

As you approached the final steps towards him, you slowly turned to view Perona standing to the side of the aisle, noticing Zoro standing beside your intended: both holding similar expressions mirroring your own. You had all been awaiting this moment with the greatest anticipation: from the moment your accidental hands toyed with the moss agate ring, to the knowledge the curse bound you now by fate.

Mihawk opened his mouth, watching as you slowly placed your bouquet he had affectionately crafted for you within Perona’s outstretched and awaiting hands. The officiant gave you a soft smile, turning to address the large number of attendees scattered amongst the pews in their most formal attire.

“Valued and adored guests here gathered,” she began, her arms gesturing outwards in a warm embellished wave, “On behalf of the Lord and Lady to be of Kuraigana, I would bid thee welcome to witness the unification of two souls in matrimony.” Mihawk had yet to tear his eyes off you, paying attention to all words spoken by the woman in front of you, but hypnotised by your presence at his side.

“There are a few elements to witness performed here. We are to leave no stone unturned nor phrase unuttered in their bonds forming,” she continued, turning away and gathering a larger twin candles within her hands and holding them to the side of her body, “Lord Dracule, you may reveal your wife from beneath her shroud, so we may witness her declarations departing from her lips.”

Mihawk rose his hands to your collar bones, his fingertips pinching the sheer material within his thumb, index and tall finger and hastily withdrawing the shield from your face. He allowed himself the luxury of the backs of his hands brushing with your cheeks as he flung the sheer fabric over your hair, a shaken breath escaping your lips at his tender touch.

As your eyes met without filter between you, his expression finally revealed more to you than a subtle tick and twitch. The air was sucked from his lungs, his eyes softening as he found his body drawing closer to you almost against his will. You smiled up at him, adoring this new and unrefined experience of adoration dancing over his face.

“I present you with two candles,” the attendee informed you, placing them out in a gesture for you to take them from her hands, “I shall alight the wick of Lord Dracule's, and he will speak his actions and their meaning aloud.” She lit his wick, gesturing for you to turn to face one another with your candles extended in the middle of your bodies.

“With this flame,” Mihawk uttered in full clarity, “I vow to light your way through all darkness that plagues you.” He extended the flamed tip to ignite your candle in front of you.

“Under its light,” you uttered with a small bow to him, “I trust you to guide me.” A small sniff from Perona, attempting as she would to halt her emotions from expressing themselves, had a similar experience rising in Zoro behind Mihawk. The two wards witnessing their Lord and Lady now unifying themselves in matrimony finally began to find harbour within their hearts in each passing moment and gesture.

Taking the candles from you and placing them within their designated dishes on the table and elevating a silver goblet and accompanying decanter. She poured the crimson liquid within the spherical container, offering to place the cool stem within your fingertips.

“Your cup may never empty,” you expressed, offering to your swordsman the container, rotating the object twice within your hands first and bowing your head low, “For I will be the wine that fills it.” His fingers brushed over yours, grasping them and taking them with him as he elevated the wine to his lips. He continued holding his hands over yours as he offered the goblet up to your own lips.

“May I be the wine that fills your cup,” his smile twitched at the corner as he added, “And may you always be satisfied with the contents that replenishes you.” A small blush rose to your cheeks as your eyes never broke from Mihawks. He elevated the wine to your lips, allowing for a small sip to pass from your lips. The celebrant reclaimed the goblet from your hands and placed it beside the lit candles, rising now a tray with two cubes of sticky honeycomb atop the surface.

“This may get a little messy, bear with us everyone,” the attendee expressed, drawing a small teetered chuckle and rise of giggle from your guests. Mihawk allowed the softness to be depicted in his face at the small giggle that fell from your lips, both claiming the sticky cubic piece of honeycomb into your fingers.

“I shall serve you in all the ways you require,” you both spoke in unison, “And may the honeycomb taste sweeter coming from my hand.” You both placed the sticky cubes within each other’s awaiting mouths, both laughing at the mess atop your fingertips. Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits.

Small whistles and flirtatious commentary fell from the lips of the Red-Hair pirates, hooting and hollering in their support of such an unbridled expression of lust within the ceremony. Another rise of laughter occurred between you as you retracted your fingertips from each other’s mouths. The attendee placed the tray beside the goblet and returned with two thin sheets of material and offered them to Zoro and Perona.

Perona reached forward and gathered the material within her hands, Zoro apprehensively doing the same with no frame of reference as to why he was doing so.

“The two wards under the care of Dracule Mihawk will present the ties to bind you, solidifying their positions in upholding you within your commitment to one another as your chosen witnesses,” Mihawk turned away from you, as you did him, to gather the material within the hands of the wards behind you.

“May our bond continue to grow all the years you choose to remain with us in unity, Perona,” you whispered to her, prompting her to smile through her tears that began to fall as soon as your vows commenced.

“I will stay as long as you’ll have me, my lady,” she confessed in a similar tone, offering the sash for you to take into your arms.

Although you both were too wrapped to hear the conversation occurring behind you, Zoro and Mihawk had a similar moment parting between them.

“Although you are destined to earn my title as ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’ in single combat, I am proud to call you a son under my familial name, Zoro,” He uttered with a small twitched smirk and narrowed eyes.

“I will hold both such titles with honour, Lord Mihawk,” he reached forward, his arms containing the sash and prompting both Mihawk and you to return in facing one another.

“May this knot you tie demonstrate to those present here the symbol of your unity,” the attendee uttered to you, prompting a skillful dance of fingertips brushing and hands clasping one another to tie the two sheets into a single knot in the centre. You and Mihawk both presented the unified material to the celebrant, who collected it from you by the knot in the centre. She placed the knot beside the dish containing the small syrupy honeycomb remnants, raising a box containing two bands of gold within.

“My lady, you may raise your hand to place the ring atop your beau’s unity finger and relay your vows onto him,” she gestured for you to claim the larger band within the box, elevating it to his left hand and hovering it over his fingertip.

“My beloved,” you began, glancing from his hand to dart your focus between his two honey-coloured eyes, “These are the vows of promise I swear unto you, unifying us in marriage.” He awaited expectantly his breath hitching once more as you relayed your confession of love onto him.

“I will never possess you, for you belong to none but yourself,” you smiled at him, beginning the descent of his ring slowly over his finger, “I cannot command you, for you are free.” Shimmying the object over his first knuckle, you continued to relay your vows.

“I pledge to you that your name be the one I cry into the night,” your smile cracked at the corner of your face at a small stifled squeak from Perona, “And may mine be the smile that greets you the morning after.” You slid the ring over his final knuckle, securing it to the base of his finger before interweaving your fingertips with his.

“May this ring be a symbol of my devotion to you, unifying us as one to all those who view it,” you concluded. Finally meeting his eyes once more, his glazed over eyes held such softness for you it felt too intimate for his public persona. He firmly squeezed your right hand within his left before unweaving his fingertips from yours and collecting your ring from the box presented by the attendant.

“My beloved,” he began, clasping your left hand with his right, and elevating his left hand to hover the golden band above your left finger; his own new band catching your eyes as it danced in the light, “These are the promises I swear onto you through my vows of devotion.” He slid the ring slowly over your fingertip, his eyes never breaking away from your own as he presented his words.

“I will never command nor possess you,” he ushered the ring over your first knuckle, “For your will belongs to you alone.” Sliding the ring over your second knuckle, he continued to relay his vows slowly onto you.

“I pledge your name to be cried from my lips in the night, and my smile-...” his right hand gently squeezed your fingertips as his smile drew up onto his face, “-be what greets you on the morrow beside you.” Perona stifled another squeal behind her unoccupied hand clapping over her lips, prompting a smile to break over your own lips.

“May this band unify us in matrimony, and be a beacon of my promise to all who view it,” Mihawk concluded, immediately stooping his lips to press a chaste kiss atop your knuckles, much to the detest of the celebrant. She clicked her tongue to reprimand him, shaking her head with a smile of her own.

“Given your lips can’t hold their restraint, my lord,” her warning tone playfully reprimanded him, “I will now allow for the lord and lady to solidify their unity in the sharing of their first kiss as husband and wife. You may both collect each other and seal your covenant with words left unspoken. You may now share your lips with one another.”

Mihawk immediately began his descent, cradling your jaw beneath his left hand and shepherding you towards him with his lips parted in anticipation. You hastily drew your own left hand up to his right cheek, your right hand finding purchase on his waist and anchoring yourself to him as he finally pressed his lips onto your own.

His lips were slow in movement, savouring the sweet taste of sugary honeycomb mixing with the bitter wine presented to each other earlier. He gasped into your mouth, opening it to deepen the unity between you by presenting a small flick of his tongue into you. His nose brushed with your own, his hand on your jaw fell immediately to your waist and clutched you firmly against his waist. Brows furrowed in unbridled passion, the world around you fled from memory at each press of his lips against your own.

You slid your hand up to clasp his shoulder, a small squeak fleeing from your mouth into his as he turned your body in a low dip towards the guests in their seats in the pew. This action drew you away from your lustful hypnosis, the applause and cheers of your guests gleefully erupting into the air. He hastily drew your body back upwards with the flitter of your luxurious dress pooling behind you.

“I am now delighted to pronounce, through this seal of unity,” the celebrant concluded her presentation, “The Lord and Lady Dracule of Kuraigana. Celebrate and uphold them, and may jovial celebrations continue into the night with merriment.” Mihawk clasped your hand and placed it into the crook of his left elbow, beginning his ushering of you to flee with him from the ceremony space to continue into your reception.

Several of your guests greeted you both with their offerings of congratulations and affirmations, Red-Hair Shanks prying your husband away from your arms with his arm hooking over his shoulders and ushering him into a warm embrace. You made eye contact with the first mate of the Red-Hair pirates, who offered you a polite smile and the nod of his head; both of which you returned with actions mirroring his own.

However, as soon as you became distracted by the embraces falling to your now husband, your elevated mood of joy was immediately halted as a floating and severed gloved hand clapped over your lips. You could not offer a hum of protest, nor a scream as your body was pried away from Mihawk’s and into the hallway outside of the ceremony space.

“All part of the plan, Starlight,” a soft, nasally voice reaffirmed you in your ear. You turned your head to meet with the face of the flashy-fool himself, his face painted to the highest quality. His hand rejoined his forearm with a small suctioned ‘pop’.

“I’m gonna take my hand away from your face now, alright? You gotta be quiet and listen to what I’m ‘bout to tell you,” He nodded, his eyes serious with no room for joking. You nodded in return, prompting a smile to rise to his lips.

“I’ve done some reading,” Buggy informed you, his tone apprehensive and nervous, “And there’s a custom in Kuraigana regarding weddings that sounds way too fun to be left out of ol’ Hawkie’s.”

“And what may that be, sir Buggy D Clown?” Your frown deepened the longer Buggy kept you away from your new husband. He chuckled at your apprehension, a sly smile now developing further in elevation.

“You are to be dressed in a new gown, no longer a bride but a wife under his name,” he confirmed with a nod, your understanding reflected in your own nod. “As your new dress is placed onto your body, you’re a new woman. And as a new woman,” his eyes twinkled with mischief, “Your groom has to woo you to win back your favor.”

“What are you saying, sir?” you narrowed your eyes, and threw him an accusatory and pointed look.

“What I’m saying, Starlight,” he continued, linking his arms with yours and beginning to shepherd you further away from your celebration, “Is that I’m going to kidnap you and dress you in your starlight gown,” he grimaced a small grin, “I may have had a couple of my crew break in and steal the mannequin earlier,” he quickly uttered before waving his hand in front of him to halt your protests, “And he has to humble himself and perform a skill worthy enough to win your favour.”

Your bewilderment was pictured over your face, looking from his eyes and apprehensively allowing him to draw you to the peer.

“What type of skill, Buggy?” you asked him, your curiosity peaked the longer the clown explained himself.

“Could be anything, Starlight,” he shrugged, his playful smirk pulling wider. His eyes twinkled, the paint falling within the crows feet beneath the blue and white hues, “He could dance, sing, recite poetry, he could even juggle. It truly doesn’t matter as long as you’re impressed and successfully wooed.”

You took the moment to study him. From his painted face, to his beautiful assortment of a red and yellow diamond patterned vest, to his tanned leather pants, and all the way back up to his hair braided and styled away from falling in front of his eyes. He threw his best grin at you, his lips curling in an apprehensive and crooked smile. You shook your head, stepping closer to him.

“Does Mihawk know about this?” You uttered quietly, your dress shifting behind you in your haste. He sighed out a shuddered laugh of dark glee.

“Oh, I’m certain Red-Hair is filling him in right about-...” he trailed off, thinking long and hard about his answer. As soon as your feet found the wood of Buggy’s ship, the anchor rising and sails drawn down by his crew, he gestured to the doors of Castle Kuraigana in the distance.

“-Now.”

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