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hannahbarberra162 · 3 days ago

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Long Forgotten Fairytale, Ch 6 (Yan Shamrock x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | The other parts

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for reading through the draft and giving me feedback :3

I took some creative liberties with the Abyss (traveling pentagram). Suspend disbelief for this one and enjoy Sham taking care of his girl. He’s taking her through the Abyss because I said so (which can't happen in canon). Afterwards Imu changes it so only those marked can go through idk y’all let me have fun its magic anyway just let it happen.

Also reminder Shamrock is a Celestial Dragon and acts accordingly. We / reader like him (oh, and how I like him) but he's a product of his environment.

Three weeks later and nearly every facet of Shamrock’s plan had been completed. He’d found every person he needed, gathered all his supplies, and tracked down his drunken lout of a brother all while Father remained unaware. You were none the wiser, kept busy by Shamrock at night and sleeping or reading during the day. Shamrock was leaving for training in two days so everything had to happen tonight.

After tonight, he wasn’t sure when he would see you next. The thought had him restless and rising from his bed as soon as you were asleep. He’d dosed you with heavy sleeping medication earlier; you needed to be comatose for the rest of the night.

He had loved you with every ounce of his heart earlier that night. You had suspected something was amiss, your mouth set into a small pout as your eyes searched his own for answers. Yet you obeyed his command to ask him no questions, only running your thumbs over his cheekbones. Shamrock leaned into your touch, kissing the inside of your palm tenderly. He had taken his time making love to you, savoring the way you came undone under him, the way you felt when he kissed you, your soft moans in his ear as he rocked into you. He wanted to commit every part of you to memory, to savor every last bit of you that he could. All too soon it was the middle of the night and he’d had you three times, your legs still quivering from the last orgasm he’d given you. You were mewling small protests at his hands diving between your legs again, so Shamrock allowed you to drift off to sleep. You nestled in closer to him, your head on his chest. You were none the wiser of what would be happening to you, for which Shamrock was sorry.

He wished he could freeze time and stay cuddled with you in his bed, but it was time for action. Shamrock had to get moving otherwise he would miss his window of opportunity. He ensured you were sleeping deeply, then rose and dressed. He grabbed the supplies he’d covertly gathered, strapped the sword to his back, and unlocked the cuff from about your ankle. Shamrock dressed you in a simple gown, he had no patience for the many stays, buttons, and loops of your normal attire. Besides, simple attire would suit you better shortly. It would be better if there was no evidence of your life with him, including lavish dresses.

He bundled you in one of his old black cloaks and collected you carefully, making sure not to harm you in the process. Shamrock had waited until there was a meeting of the God’s Knights and Father was not in attendance at the castle. He'd told Father that he was to meet his brother would be gone for at least a night. But in truth meeting his twin for the first time was not on his mind in the slightest. Only one singular thought played through his mind on repeat:

Tonight would be the night he lost you .

Shamrock gripped you tighter as he descended down the staircase to the dungeons below the castle. It was a putrid, disgusting place, filled with peasants, slaves, and servants who deserved their filthy surroundings. It was somewhere he would never have brought you under any circumstances, but he himself had been many times. The Celestial Dragons were in the habit of keeping Devil Fruit users who had useful fruits – either to kill them and collect the fruit themselves or to use the services if the situation arose. And Shamrock had found quite a few interesting subjects.

Descending further into the depths, the groans of the dying and injured barely registered on Shamrock’s ears as he found the cell he was seeking, his mind only on one objective. Shamrock used the keys found outside the door and opened it, the aged wooden door opening with a creak. It seemed the Celestial Dragons had largely forgotten about this particular Devil Fruit user, kept in the far recesses of the dungeon.

The holder of the Memo Memo no mi.

It pained Shamrock to know you wouldn't remember anything of your time with him. But he didn't want you to miss him during his absence, to wonder why you were cast aside. Furthermore if you were bereft of your memories you would not be able to relay anything of your time with him, even under duress. That alone would keep you from becoming a pawn in someone else's hands to get to him. It was better that he take them from you, to be returned at a later time once he was able to reunite with you. Once you regained your memories all would be well and things would go back to the way they were.

Shamrock brought you into the cell, repulsed that your body had to share space with such a creature. The old man remained at the back of the cell, waiting to be told what to do, his one working eye averted to the floor.

“Come forward,” Shamrock ordered, not releasing you from his hold. He was not going to set you down in this dismal dungeon. The man shuffled forward immediately though slowly, his chains clinking as he moved. Once he reached Shamrock, he bowed low enough to the ground that his scraggly beard met the floor.

“How may I serve you, Young Master?” the man croaked out. Shamrock had thought about his statement many times, but had never spoken the words aloud. He cleared his throat, willing himself to begin the process he would not be able to retreat from.

“Remove all her memories of myself and my family. They go back about six years,” Shamrock ordered. The man straightened as much as his hunched spine would let him.

“I can't - that’s not how the power-” Shamrock took a step closer to the man, allowing his haki to crackle around him. The man’s words died in his throat as Shamrock’s haki built, the red lightning surging with his anger and annoyance.

“Yes, Young Master,” the man said with a bow.

“Begin.”

An hour later and the films of your memories lay piled in the man’s hands. The man had begun with your most recent memories and had worked backwards, to the day that you were sold to the Figarland family. One of the films on top was the day he’d spat in your face, his own younger countenance looming over yours. Shamrock frowned at your memory, he had nearly forgotten his first impression of you. Shamrock had the man place the numerous films in a sack. He'd have to preserve them away from his family home.

“Close your eyes. Then give me your own memory of this meeting,” Shamrock demanded. The old man dutifully closed his eyes and pulled the memory of Shamrock coming down to the prison. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do for now. Once the man was done, Shamrock gathered your precious memories with him and departed, locking the cell once more behind him. He had yet more to do during this night.

He passed by another dark cell on his way back to the main floor. A middle aged woman was within, her pale face withdrawn and sunken. He beckoned to her from outside the cell. You did not need to go within it for this errand.

“Extend your right hand,” he ordered. The woman’s shaking hand reached through the iron bars in the small window the door provided. Shamrock was loathe to let such a creature touch you, but it had to be done. He removed your hood gently before grabbing the woman’s arm. He yanked her as far as he could and pressed her pale, sickly hand to your beautiful face for only a moment before releasing her. The woman inside toppled to the ground but stood up again quickly.

“Show me her visage,” Shamrock commanded. The woman nodded and touched her face with her left hand. Suddenly, there was another you within the cell. You looked just as lovely and radiant as you always did, so much so that Shamrock nearly smiled when he saw the woman pretending to be you. However, the longer he stared at the woman, the more he could tell it wasn’t really you. He could tell that it wasn’t your soul within the woman, she was merely an exact duplicate.

“Enough,” Shamrock ordered. The woman touched her face with her right hand again, shifting back to her original disgusting form. Shamrock would have use of her later that night, but not right now.

The bag carrying your memories was heavy on his shoulder as he made his way out of the dungeons and to the stables to see Titus. The horse was pleased to see him and trotted up to Shamrock at first glance. Shamrock set you down gently in a pile of hay before turning his attention to his favorite horse. Shamrock pat him gently on the bridge of his nose, pulling him closer by the bridle. Shamrock leaned his forehead against the horse’s, willing Titus to understand the severity of the situation.

“Titus, I need you to eat this,” Shamrock said, pulling out a Devil Fruit from his bag. It was an orange fruit with white stripes and ears. “After you eat it, you won’t be able to swim.” Titus sniffed the fruit and reared back, offended by the smell. Shamrock grabbed his bridle and pulled his head back into place gently.

“You have to watch over her and this will help. There’s no other way,” Shamrock urged, pushing the fruit closer to Titus’ mouth. The horse looked at Shamrock and bowed its head, almost as if in approval. Titus opened his mouth and bit at the fruit, disdain coloring his expression.

“Thank you, Titus. We must depart,” Shamrock said, exhaling a breath. His plan didn’t hinge on Titus, but it was a relief to know he would be with you. Shamrock gathered you in his arms, checked that the sword was strapped to his back, and mounted Titus.

“To the Abyss,” Shamrock ordered.

Shamrock was slightly surprised at the sword pointed at his throat as he came through the Abyss. He had purposely chosen this abandoned manor inhabited by only one man, the one he was seeking. The nobles who previously lived there had an Abyss pentagram installed in the hopes that a God’s Knight might visit. None had until now.

Shamrock used one of his gloved fingers to move the point of the sword away from his throat. He didn’t think the man he was seeking would be the kind to draw his blade before determining who his opponent was or their motivations. Looking up, he saw his intuition was correct. It was Shanks who had his sword drawn. Ever the fool, he supposed. But where was-

“Who are you?” Shanks demanded like a petulant child. Shamrock resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh heavily at his brother. Only a few moments into their first meeting and Shanks had already disappointed him. Shamrock didn’t answer, merely shifted you to one arm. Dropping Titus’ reins, he used his free hand to push back his hood.

“Now that you’ve drawn your sword, are you willing to use it?” Shamrock drawled. Shanks had gone silent, his eyes wide as he took in the visage of his brother for the first time. Moments before, Shanks’ face had been filled with suspicion and bravado, but now Shanks’ mouth made a perfect circle as he resheathed his sword.

“Well? Swords aren’t for threats, they’re for actions,” Shamrock continued. Really, did he have to teach his younger brother everything? Had Roger not taught him not to draw his sword without meaning?

“Quite right,” another deep voice intoned. Shamrock looked towards the door of the room and saw a man in a frilly white linen shirt, drinking a glass of wine. Here he was, the man upon whom Shamrock’s plans hinged.

Dracule Mihawk.

Mihawk looked over Shamrock and took another large sip of wine. His face betrayed no hint of his emotions, though he did raise an eyebrow at Titus as he flicked his fine tail.

“No horses inside the manor,” he stated.

“Very well. Titus, change,” Shamrock commanded, inclining his head towards the host. It was a reasonable request, after all. In a moment, the horse shifted into an orange house cat. Mihawk continued to watch as Titus walked around, adjusting to his new size. Shamrock wished he had the time to watch Titus teeter around as a cat, but now was not the moment.

“You are Red-haired’s brother,” Mihawk noted, taking another sip of the red wine.

“Yes. I have a proposition for you,” Shamrock said, taking a step out of the Abyss towards the swordsman. He had no wish to discuss Shanks, already dismissing his younger brother from his thoughts. Shamrock wanted to move the conversation along to his own ends.

“Are we not gonna talk about this? That I have a brother? A brother I didn’t know about? Are we twins? You look exactly like me but - wait, did you know about me?!?” Shanks asked Shamrock, his hand on his cheek in disbelief. For someone raised on the Pirate King’s ship, Shanks was certainly naive. This time Shamrock did roll his eyes and turned to face his brother.

“Of course I knew. I surmise no one told you. You have an older twin brother, congratulations,” Shamrock said dryly. Shanks’ smile faded from his face for a moment, before he laughed awkwardly and smiled again. Shamrock’s patience grew thin; his brother’s babbling was irritating him when he needed to have a discussion with Mihawk.

“Who’s our Dad? Or our Mom? I’m guessing since you came from the Abyss that they're Celestial Dragons. Gasp! Does that mean I - we’re Celestial Dragons too? I hate those fuckers, but you seem-”

He did not feel like playing games with his twin, he barely cared that Shanks was there. His real purpose in locating Shanks had been a complete coincidence. Shanks happened to be traveling with Dracule, so Shamrock was able to pass off the easy lie that he wished to see his brother. Shamrock suspected Father would be open to such a suggestion, since it would be a natural curiosity for a twin to wish to meet his brother. Shanks continued to talk despite no input from Shamrock thus far.

“What’s your name? You look just like me! Well, except your hair’s longer and - whoa, you’re so pale. Do you ever go out in the sun? Do you like to sail? Who did you bring with you? And what’s that-” Shanks drew nearer to Shamrock, who bristled and held you tighter.

“Do not touch her,” he stated, his tone ice cold and eyes flashing. He stifled his haki from rising, it wouldn’t benefit him in any way to challenge Shanks right now. Even though his brother was an irritant, Shamrock knew Shanks was much stronger than he let on. There was a reason Mihawk dallied with him, after all.

“I assume the woman has to do with the proposition,” Mihawk inferred. “Let us go to the parlor to discuss,” he said. Looking between Shanks and Shamrock, Mihawk drained his glass.

“I will bring more wine.”

A few minutes later Shamrock, Mihawk, and Shanks were all seated in the main parlor. Well, Shamrock and Mihawk were seated – Shanks was pacing back and forth near the door. Shamrock had gently set you down on a couch near his own chair, making sure your head was resting on a pillow. From the angle at which he sat, he could clearly see your beloved face while also angling to protect you should they come to blows. Shamrock was not sure he could defeat Mihawk and Shanks if they fought together, but he would die trying to defend you.

“I am Figarland Shamrock,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass that Mihawk had provided. Mihawk inclined his head.

“I am Dracule Mihawk. Welcome to Kuraigana Island.”

“I have need of your services,” Shamrock began slowly, trying to sound less haughty and demanding. He was requesting something from Mihawk, which was not something he’d ever had to do before. Having to ask for help was demeaning and not an experience he enjoyed.

“Which services?” Mihawk asked, setting his chin in his hand as he crossed his legs in the chair. “I am no mercenary for hire,” he continued.

“Do you need my services?” Shanks asked brightly, turning to come closer to Shamrock. Enough of the fool, Shamrock thought. It was time he learned his place, he was irritating beyond compare. Shamrock set his glass of wine down on the low table and rose to stand behind his chair. He looked his brother over with assessing eyes before smiling. Shanks took the gesture as encouragement and smiled widely at his brother.

“You?” Shamrock said with a mocking laugh, his eyes flashing with malice. “You were a simple convenience. If you had not been traveling with Dracule at this time, I would have told Father I wished to fight him as an excuse to come to his manor. It is laughable to think I would leave anything of value in your hands.” His voice was quiet, but his words cut like a whip as he advanced towards his brother. To his credit, Shanks did not retreat but stood firm as his brother stalked towards him, his sunny smile quickly fading. Shamrock’s heels clacked against the cold marble tile with every step he took towards his twin until they stood inches apart, face to face.

“You are an aimless, drunken fool. Completely useless to any and all. Cast aside at every turn - by your Captain, by your sworn brother, by your former crew, by your own blood relations. I have no doubt that Dracule will become the World’s Strongest Swordsman. One can see the desire burning within, that he will manifest his will and bend reality to his making. But you? Even if you were to become one of the Emperors of the Sea – nay, the King of Pirates himself - you would remain worthless. Leave my treasure with you?” Shamrock laughed, a cruel sound leaving his throat as Shamrock’s wry grin twisted into a scowl. Despite his impressive strength, Shanks flinched as Shamrock flicked the brim of the straw hat on his brother’s head.

“I would rather kill her myself.”

“So you wish for the woman to remain here,” Mihawk intoned several minutes later. Shanks had excused himself and ran off like the immature child he was. Shamrock was glad for his absence. Mihawk had watched Shanks closely after Shamrock had chastised him but did not come to Shanks’ defense. Shamrock did not care to speculate why. Mihawk had resumed talking not long after.

“I do,” Shamrock agreed. “She has no memories of her time with me. She is adept at nearly every task and independent by nature. She is incredibly intelligent and diligent,” Shamrock continued, proud to state your superior qualities.

“And why should I agree to such a request? I am no babysitter,” Mihawk drawled, resting his free hand on his knee. But Shamrock knew he had Mihawk’s interest from the moment he had appeared in the estate.

“Because I have something you want and would not otherwise be able to acquire,” Shamrock replied simply, finally getting to the heart of the matter. Shamrock had surmised that someone like Mihawk would not be swayed by might or money. It was one of the many reasons why Shamrock had selected the principled man as your would be guardian. No, money couldn't buy Mihawk's protection. But there was one thing Mihawk desperately wanted, that he could not hide his unbridled desire for.

Yoru.

The sword had been strapped to Shamrock’s back from the second he’d come into the manor, the supreme grade sword glinting in the light of the fire. Mihawk’s eyes had drifted to it but once, but that was enough to confirm his interest. Yoru had been passed through generations of the Figarland family for centuries, but you were worth more.

“I will give you Yoru in exchange for your vow that my woman will remain here for as long as needed. You will do everything in your power to protect her. You will tell no one of her existence. You will share no information of how she came to be here nor of me – with her or anyone else. Titus will remain to watch over her. If the terms are not amenable to you, I shall depart with her forthwith and leave you to enjoy your company,” Shamrock leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, the perfect picture of indifference. Inside, he felt like there was an animal gnawing at his bones. He needed Mihawk to agree, this was the linchpin for all his hard work.

“Should I agree, Yoru will be mine.”

“Yes.”

“And how will you explain its absence? Surely a sword of this caliber would be missed even by Celestial Dragons,” Mihawk mused. His demeanor was calm but his fingers were now gripping his knee tightly.

“I will tell my Father that I brought the woman, Titus, and Yoru as an introductory gift for my brother, as a means to show him the delights of Mariejois. I will say we shared the woman, he did not secure Titus correctly, and he took Yoru with him to his ship. What he did with the sword thereafter, I do not know. Perhaps he gave it to a rival, or a paramore,” Shamrock stated, setting his wine glass down on the table. Mihawk’s eyes narrowed slightly. Interesting, Shamrock thought. He had hit a mark with his words, though he wasn’t intentionally bating the swordsman.

“You are making your brother out to be quite the heel,” Mihawk said, his tone dry. Shamrock shrugged.

“He is a useful tool at this juncture.”

“You understand I am most often absent from the estate. I return here seldomly, and use this facility only as a place of refuge and rest.”

“I understand. The humandrills will keep others out and Titus will watch over her. Your reputation protects the manor and if you are not here, no one will bother coming near.”

“And the Marines?” Mihawk asked, arching a brow. Shamrock smirked.

“They answer to me.” There was a beat of silence between the two men. Shamrock suspected that neither of them wanted to show their hand and express their strong desire for the other to agree. As the one who was stipulating the terms, Shamrock would not lose an advantage by continuing the conversation.

“Do I have your word then?” Shamrock asked quietly, looking over at the silent swordsman. Mihawk’s golden eyes looked into Shamrock’s brown ones.

“You do.”

Once Mihawk agreed to harbor you, Shamrock handed over the sword and went to settle you in a bedroom. There were many to choose from and he tried to find the one that was the nicest and in working order. Finally he found one that was not dissimilar to his own, a coincidence that pleased him. He laid you down on the bed and watched your peaceful face as you breathed deeply. Shamrock watched you for quite some time, unable to leave your side. He wouldn’t see you for many months, possibly years. He did not know the circumstances under which you’d be reunited but he knew one thing for certain.

He would come back for you.

A dreamy smile graced your features as you sighed in your sleep. A smile reflexively crossed Shamrock’s own and he raised his hand to cup your cheek. He leaned down over you, his hair covering you the way he knew you loved. If you had been awake, your hands would have wrapped themselves in it, pulling him to you for kissing. But alas, that was not to be the case. Still, Shamrock lingered, setting his forehead against your own.

“Please do not hate me. I saw no other way. I will return for you,” he whispered. You would have no memories of him, but he held a naive hope that some part of your soul would remember his parting words to you.

Shamrock pressed his lips to your own in a final kiss. He hadn’t cried since he was a young child, taught not to show his weaknesses by his Father’s hand. And yet a tear landed on your cheek as Shamrock pulled away from you one last time.

“Goodbye, my love.”

“After I am gone, destroy the Abyss. I trust you are capable of doing so,” Shamrock said, his affect flat as he walked back to the room containing the Abyss. He was trying to hide the emotions roiling inside him, his anguish at having to leave the only person he loved in the hands of another. If Mihawk suspected anything, he did not mention it.

“Are you not curious to meet Shanks?” Mihawk asked, his eyes trained only on the sword in his hands. He was testing its weight and balance of the sword, surely finding it as perfect as its reputation suggested. Shamrock felt indifferent at leaving the priceless heirloom in the hands of a pirate, he could always buy another priceless sword. You, however, were irreplaceable. His thoughts returned to you as they always did, before he remembered Mihawk had asked him a question.

“No.”

Mihawk did not reply and did not press the issue further. Shamrock might revisit his brother if Shanks ever became someone worthy of meeting.

A few hours later and the night was finally over. Shamrock deposited the severed head of the woman on Father’s desk as he had been tasked. The sticky, coagulating blood was pooling over the fine desk but that was not Shamrock’s concern. The user of the Mane Mane no mi looked exactly like you, her face frozen in terror from the moment Shamrock had slain her. Even though he knew it was not truly you, that you were safe and hidden on Kuraigana Island under the golden eyes of Mihawk, he still couldn’t bear to look at it any further.

Shamrock hadn’t just killed the Mane Mane no mi slave in the dungeons. He’d killed every single person within the putrid cells. He didn’t want anyone to bear witness to his visitation with you or that Shamrock had the slave take on your visage. He’d also killed all the servants, attendants, and slaves who had ever seen you. Shamrock wanted no loose ends and killing everyone was the only means by which that could be accomplished. The castle was bathed in red, blood splattered down every hall and room. He’d buy some more slaves and servants in the morning, it would be a good lesson in what happened when Shamrock was displeased.

Shamrock would tell Father that his meeting with Shanks had not gone as desired and he had returned in a foul mood. It was an understandable excuse since Shamrock truly had nothing positive to say about his brother. Father might be annoyed since there were some interesting Devil Fruit users in the dungeon, but he himself had done the same a few times in Shamrock’s memory.

No, everyone there had to die so that you could live.

A/N: Shanks lovers, I know. I know! I KNOW! Yes, Shamrock emotionally decimated him but Shanks will have his moment I promise. I love Shanks too, I'm not gonna let that slide.

Also this is similar to the canon timeline but diverges here. Mihawk doesn't move to Kuraigana until much later in OP but here I have him using it as a base in his early 20s. Things will diverge from canon from here on out but I hope you still enjoy it :) .

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @rebeccawinters @sanjisleggy @nerium-lil @unwillingstars@ceramic-raven @retardhaven @srishh @yunheadlings @dolychan @petuniasmd@rubyninja1 @a3fv

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opbackgrounds · 2 months ago

Note

It doesn't get explained at all until Egghead, and only in passing from Vegapunk, but the fate of Awakened Zoan users is horrible. They push their powers to their utmost extreme, but if their concentration slips, their minds is utterly consumed by their animal instincts and they just, cease being a person. And then they are basically sentenced to being these glorified attack dogs/dungeon beasts for the rest of their lives in the world's worst hell-hole. They don't even get proper names, just a generic title. It's so dang dark.

Except for Rob Lucci. I bet he would love a place where he can kill or savage whatever he wants.

yeah, and it makes me wonder when pressed to extremes if something wild and wacky could happen with Gear 5. It also makes Monster Chopper at Enies Lobby retroactively that much scarier. He was that close to ending up like the Minotaur and the rest.

What can I say, zoans are weird. Chopper mentioned when Lucci was introduced that people with carnivorous fruits are more bloodthirsty, so it’s entirely possible that Lucci’s personality is actually influenced by his DF. The fact that zoans have a spirit of their own that can be acted upon, like with Tama, is one of the most interesting things about them, and likely the reason the only inanimate objects that have fruits were given zoans. There’s a consciousness in there that we don’t see with logias or paramecias that I feel is tied in with the larger myth arc of the origins of devil fruits.

#sarc talks

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steviewashere · 11 days ago

Text

Gonna give Steve GERD because I've been dealing with the devil's acid reflux for four days now and I. am. exhausted.

He and Eddie are gonna be hanging out and chilling in bed. Eddie's reading a book quietly to himself, maybe murmuring the words under his breath. Meanwhile, Steve's perched along his pillows, hand pressed tight to the center of his chest, grimacing and burping and swallowing every thirty seconds or so. And his stomach is upset (IBS because he must go through it like me) and he really doesn't want to take a cap-full of Metamucil and also a handful of Tums. All he wants to do is comfortably sleep, but the acid reflux says otherwise. (Also the whole constipation thing because he's genuinely pissed off that he can't go to the bathroom. Because he knows if he could, then he could probably sleep a little bit more restfully.)

Eddie finally notices. "You doin' okay babe?"

Around the burning in his chest and throat, "I ate two slices of pizza today. Only two! You think I'm okay?"

"Just a question."

Steve, mockingly, "Just a question." He sighs, grimaces, hic-urps. With a quick gasp of air, he says, "I'm gonna invent a time machine. Like full DeLorean style. And I'm gonna go back in time and make society forget about making pizza. Pizza is evil."

"Gotta say, you knew that the pizza was gonna irritate you. I tried to talk you out of it. Offered you the soup and salad and"—

"Oh, so now I'm not allowed to have a little bit of fun and whimsy? Is it...is it a crime to want cheese pizza now? God, live a little, Eddie."

Eddie rolls his eyes. Goes back to his book. "And I'm supposed to be the drama queen?"

"I'm gonna put my stupid fucking constipation meds in your coffee tomorrow morning."

"Why don't you go put a cap-full in some water now, sweetheart?" Eddie murmurs, "I know among other things that it would be helpful right now."

"God forbid I don't want chalk in my mouth."

"God forbid I want my boyfriend to not have an upset stomach." He hears Steve scoff at him. For an extra measure, he adds, "Maybe have a couple Tums while you're at it. We have them for a reason."

"I'm gonna"—

"Grind them up and put them in my eggs tomorrow. Yes, I know, baby. Heard it a million times." He looks back over to Steve flatly. "Just do a couple things for yourself, dork."

"I don't wanna get out of bed. I'm comfy," Steve whines. Actually full on whines.

Eddie snorts. "Comfy. Yeah, sure. Having an active heatburn fit while not being able to use the bathroom is sooo completely comfy. You're right, Steve. Why didn't I just understand that from the get-go?"

"Yeah, why didn't you—Actually, I don't like your tone."

"Just go take your meds and the tone will go away."

Dramatically, Steve gasps. Hand pressed flat to his chest and everything. "Being mean to your boyfriend? I should have you shackled and displayed in the center of town, let them throw the ripest of tomatoes at you. A thousand years! Jail for Eddie for a thousand years!"

"If I get you your meds, will you take them?"

"Yes."

Eddie drops his book down, reading glasses pushed up into his hair, leans over, and smacks a chaste kiss to Steve's cheek. "What do you say, my lord?"

"Oh, Sir Knight Eddie"—Steve starts, all regal fanfare and batting eyes—"please, oh please, save me from the dungeon that is my poor, poor, illithid body. Please, oh please bring me the holiest cure in all the land—the wretched, most despised, most foul beast—the elixir of Metamucil."

"And...?"

"And my Tums, please."

Quickly, Eddie presses a firmer kiss to Steve's cheek and then bows his head. He picks up Steve's hand from his chest, plunks a kiss on his knuckles, and murmurs, "Anything for you, my lord."

With his other hand, Steve pats the top of Eddie's head. "Thank you, baby."

"Tomorrow, we shall have porridge and the freshest of fruits, my lord."

"With coffee?"

"Are you"—Eddie sits himself up, leveling Steve with a disbelieving look—"are you actually insane? With the Metamucil in your system the night before, if you so much as drink half your normal giant mug of coffee, you'll be shitting your pants right at the table. Y'think I'm bending every single one of my wills?"

Steve pouts. Crosses his arms over his chest. "Jail," he mumbles, "jail for Eddie for a million years."

"Guess I'm rotting in my binds, then."

"You've let me have coffee in the morning after before! How come"—

"Because I love you very much, Steve and I don't like it when you're struggling with terrible amounts of pain from that awful fucking IBS shit—pun not intended—you have. If we can find a way to lessen the damage, then we should be doing it."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Then maybe you shouldn't have cheese in your baloney sandwich tomorrow."

"Being lactose intolerant and having IBS are not the same thing, babe."

"Jail for Eddie"—

"I'm really starting to regret using all my nerd vernacular around you. Next, you're gonna be sending me into the depths of Mordor."

"Gonna throw you into lava like the one ring, Eds. Sacrifice," Steve hisses.

"Such an evil goblin creature when you want to be, I swear to god. Just take your meds tonight and we'll see how your wombo combo heartburn-IBS situation is like tomorrow morning. Then, I'll decide whether or not to start a brew, okay?"

"M'kay. But if you still deny me...you know what's gonna happen."

"I'm gonna be banned from making grilled cheese in the toaster...again. And then you're gonna send me to jail for..."

"A billion years."

Eddie nods. "A billion years. Got it. Seems reasonable."

———

This is not the Steve with IBS fic I want to write. But here is a mere sample of some dialogue, I guess. Didn't mean for this to get away from me lol

#metamucil by the way is fucking disgusting.#i also had prescription metamucil as a kid (well into my teenage years)#that shit is gross and chalky and the bane of my existence.#diva down #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #disabled steve harrington

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 11 months ago

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Next chapter incoming

I didn't except it this soon, either.

It's still writing itself and dear GODS I hope this momentum continues.

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch.8 of who even fcking knows like maybe ten-ish...? First Chapter Link for newcomers, will update with other chapter links soon

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. You're his prisoner now, and you have no real hope left that you can see aside from his acceptance of the Warlord proposal.

We're venturing into NSFW territory in this chapter. So Warnings for that, and continued Yandere stuff.

Wordcount: 3588

Taglist: @i-am-vita, @browneyedhufflepuff, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @littleleelee, @nerium-lil, @dragon-bubs , @animefreak818 , @byysandra , @lufemia , @gizamalblythe, @lufemia @schanwow

You guys are all amazing tysm!!!!!

The first time you had awoken in the castle on Kuraigana Island, you had jumped so badly you had very nearly reverted straight out of your devil fruit form—and that in itself would have marked the end of your mission before it had even truly begun, given you had fallen asleep perched on Mihawk’s shoulder.

You jolted awake just as violently this time, and the first thing your gaze fixed upon was his sharp yellow eyes. You did panic for a moment, attempting to shift back into the avian form you had grown so accustomed to over the past two months, before remembering exactly where you were—lying across the cold stone floor of the dungeons.

Exactly how you had come to be here—by making the mistake of sneaking about in the middle of the night to call Bogard and inform him that you had no choice but to shift to plan B and propose the offer of Warlord status to your target.

Your target, who was seated in a chair in your damp, dark dungeon cell, staring down at you with a speculative frown.

“Awake at last.”

You winced as you strained against the floor to pull yourself up into a sitting position, too groggy for a moment to register why you were having such a difficult time, until the seastone shackles around your ankles clinked and rattled with your movements. Right. He had made completely sure that you wouldn’t be capable of escaping.

“You chose a particularly inopportune moment to faint earlier,” he commented, crossing his arms. “We were discussing this Warlord offer your superiors are considering presenting me with.”

You only vaguely recalled bringing it up—it must have been in the moments just before you lost consciousness. It was clear he had left you alone at some point during your slumber. He now had his open trench coat draped around his shoulders, his sword leaning against the corner of the cell. He traced your line of sight over to it and gave a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry yourself, dear. I simply prefer having my blade close. Though I’m sure you know that. You know a great deal more about me than I do you, after all. But I’m sure,” he went on, standing from the chair. You pressed your back against the wall as he approached you slowly, the toes of his boots coming to stop mere inches from your bare feet as he looked down at you, “that will come to change in time.”

He held his hand down toward you. You stared at it for a moment, before slowly lifting your hand, your breath catching as he took it in his with an almost gentle grip, this thumb tracing across your knuckles for a moment.

“You don’t have a fighter’s hands,” he said, turning your hand over, his much larger, rougher fingers tracing across your smooth palm. “Have you trained in anything aside from subterfuge?”

“Basic combat,” you said. “I’m best with throwing weapons and small blades.”

“Ideal for your stature and talent in stealth operations,” he commented.

He gave a small, thoughtful hum—then wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to your feet, grabbing you by your hip before you could stumble straight into him. He turned with you and moved a hand to your shoulder, pushing you down into the chair he had just vacated himself.

“And, purely out of curiosity, what of your knowledge in birds?” he asked, pacing around the side of the chair slowly. “I can’t imagine you learned any of that from your Marine comrades.”

You shook your head, swallowing as his shadow fell over you from behind, glancing over at his hand resting against the back of the chair. “M...my mom,” you said quietly, your stomach churning at the sudden thought that you would probably never see her again. “She’s an ornithologist. Specializing in parrots and corvids. She runs a rescue service for them. I learned everything from her.”

“And yet you chose to join the Marines?” he said, amused. “Perhaps your father’s influence?” You gave a short nod. “Of course. Could have stayed at home on the farm, safe and sound, and yet...here you are. But I suppose it did give you the experience necessary to utilize your devil fruit to its fullest effect. I can see why your superiors chose you for this task. Not many could have pulled it off as well as you did.”

You felt the chair creak behind you as he leaned down against it, sending a cold chill down your spine as he reached up to brush your hair behind your ear, to tilt his head and fix you with an amused smirk as your shoulders grew stiff as stone.

“That was a compliment, little bird,” he said lightly, tracing his index finger slowly down the curve of your neck. “What do we say when someone compliments us?”

“Th—thank you,” you forced out, swallowing. “S-sir.”

“Good girl,” he lilted softly, close to your ear.

You thought you might faint all over again when he briefly pressed his lips to your temple before straightening back out and lightly ruffling your hair. As gentle as his actions seemed, they were laced with a thinly veiled threat—a threat that if you did anything other than what was asked of you, what he expected of you, there would be swift and severe repercussions. He didn’t have to say it for you to know it to be true.

“Are you able to provide me with the full details of this whole Warlord proposal?” he asked, moving around to the other side of the chair. He stopped in front of you, crossing his arms. “Or will you need to contact your superiors?”

“They would know more than I would,” you said quietly—and that wasn’t a lie. You had been given the basic details, but he would need to speak with someone of much higher rank than you to garner any further information. “I—I can call them. They’d likely want to set a meeting if you’re interested—”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” he said. “I’m interested to hear more of what the World Government might consider a mutually beneficial arrangement between pirates and Marines. I haven’t said I’m interested in the offer itself yet. That being said…”

You shifted back in the chair when he knelt down in front of you, reaching into his pocket—but all he pulled out was a small ring of keys. You recognized the Marine insignia etched into the metal ring before he lifted your foot and turned one of the keys in the shackle wrapped around your ankle.

“I am interested to speak to your commanding officers,” he said, lowering your foot back down. He lifted the other, and paused with the key in the lock, his sharp eyes darting up to meet yours. “You will accompany me to the study in the tower below my bedchambers. Should you make any attempt to escape or use your devil fruit ability, I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen.”

You swallowed, nodding quickly in understanding. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Very good. I was fairly sure you’d understand.” You bit your lip as he slipped his hand slowly up the length of your calf, his palm coming to rest against the side of your thigh just above your knee, his eyes remaining on yours as he turned the key and pulled the shackles away from you. You flinched as he lightly squeezed his hand around your thigh, keeping his hand there as he stood and rested his other hand against the back of the chair, hovering over you. “You’ll stand slowly, and you’ll walk in front of me. I don’t think there’s any need for me to hold your hand like a child. You ought to know your way around fairly well by now.”

“Y...yes, sir,” you repeated weakly.

Hundreds of thoughts swam through your head as you lead the way from the ground floor of the old, expansive castle to the eastern tower—whether you would ever see or speak to your mother again, how Garp and Bogard would respond to the news that you were compromised, whether or not you would even live to see the light of the next morning, why Mihawk was being so gentle with you, why you felt a flutter deep in your stomach every time he touched you.

Why, for the entire duration of the walk up to the study, with him even stopping once to allow you to venture alone into a small bathroom to clean yourself up and tend to any other personal needs—why you didn’t once consider the possibility of a potential escape plan.

He expected you to comply—he wouldn’t expect you to shift into your devil fruit form at the nearest window and take flight off into the quickly darkening evening sky.

Yet the thought only crossed your mind once he sat in the armchair behind the desk in the study, the thought of why you hadn’t considered the possibility. Before you could consider it any further, he lifted his hand and motioned for you to come over, leaning forward to pull the den den mushi across the desk toward him.

“You’ll call your superiors,” he said, his gaze not once leaving you as you slowly crossed the room. You nodded, stopping in front of the desk and reaching for the device. “No.” He pulled it further out of your reach, motioning for you again. “Come here.”

You tensed at the sharpening of his tone, and moved around to the opposite side of the desk with a little more urgency, stopping a few feet away from him, your eyes flickering between his yellow irises and the snail.

Closer, when he motioned for you again, stopping at the side of the chair, staring down at your feet as you shifted your weight between them.

You glanced up when he lifted his head again, pointing down at the floor and making a small, tight circular motion. “Turn,” he instructed.

You obeyed immediately, turning around slowly, arms crossed tight across your churning stomach.

“Better. Now…”

Your eyes clenched shut when he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gasping in alarm when he pulled you down, down onto the chair with him, your back against his chest. His hand left your wrist to brush against your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear and your shoulder.

And they shot open again when you felt him lean forward behind you, his broad torso pressed against your back, watching him grab the receiver of the den den mushi.

“Make the call for me, pet,” he said, handing it to you before pulling his arm tight around your waist, holding you against him as he leaned back again. “And keep quiet unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You couldn’t speak in anything more than a strained whisper, your face flaring with heat, immediately reaching forward to dial the number at his command and holding the receiver between his ear and your own.

You shut your eyes again when you heard a familiar, gruff voice answer.

“Vice Admiral Garp. If you have this number you know what to do.”

“Vice Admiral Garp,” repeated Mihawk, sincerely surprised. “Garp the Fist. Hero of the Marines. My, my. I suppose I should be honored.” You drew in a sharp breath as his fingers curled lightly, possessively around your waist, as he turned his head and rest his forehead against your temple, his voice soft and warm against your ear. “I had no idea the adorable little pet you sent me was so important.”

You flinched at the sharp static that came through the other line for a moment, as if the old vice admiral had tightened his hand considerably around his own den den mushi.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he growled in response. “Where the hell is she?”

“Safe,” he responded. “Unharmed...relatively. Though I imagine she must be quite frightened, wondering what I plan to do with her.” You nearly whimpered when he reached across, curling a strand of your hair around his index finger. “Quite the gifted little spy. I might never have known what she truly was had I not overheard her conversation two nights ago.”

“Dammit, kid…” you heard Garp grumble under his breath. Then, louder, in a more commanding tone, “You’ve got two options, Hawk-Eye. You can let her go, or I can come get her myself.”

“With an entire armada of Navy vessels in tow, I presume?” he responded, sounding as if the idea bored him. “You’re not really in the position to be making threats, old man. The cadet is unharmed...for now. And really. You send me such a pretty little pet and expect me to sen her right back before I’ve even had any time to enjoy her company?”

You held your breath as his hand drifted down from your waist, his fingers brushing against the top of your thigh just below the hem of the over-sized shirt he had given you to wear.

“Call her your pet again, you sick son of a b—don’t—let go of that—”

“Mmm?” Mihawk hummed quietly, curiously at the sound of the brief scuffle at the other end of the call. You were fairly certain you knew what it meant, and...it was probably better that Garp didn’t handle this. Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later when another voice came through the call, far more curt but just as familiar to you.

“Read Admiral Bogard. My apologies for the vice admiral’s boorish behavior. He doesn’t handle negotiations well when it concerns one of our own. I presume this is a negotiation and you didn’t simply call for the sake of gloating?”

“Your presumption would be correct,” said Mihawk. “Though I admit, it was also to sate my own curisoty. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of supposed men would send such an innocent, vulnerable young woman on what could easily have turned out to be a suicide mission.” He rested his chin against your shoulder, trailing his dingers slowly back up the length of your thigh, smirking as you pressed your legs together tightly and tiny goosebumps raised across the surface of your skin. “I guess I have my answer.”

“I take it you have no intention of returning her without hostile measures being taken,” said Bogard, ignoring the taunt from the pirate. “I will ask yhat you allow her to speak so I can ascertain for myself that she is, as you claim, unharmed.”

“Oh, but of course,” said Mihawk, his voice low and dripping with mockery, his mouth nearly brushing your ear. “She’s right here, after all. Go on, pet. Speak.”

“I’m not hurt,” you said quietly.

“You’re sure?” You gave a quiet affirmative hum in response to Bogard’s question—and then jumped in alarm when Mihawk jerked the receiver from your hand, only to push it into your oposite hand. You swallowed, keeping your eyes turned down to your lap, to his hand splayed across your stomach. “Am I correct in assuming he’s listening?”

“Y—yes, sir.”

It became immediately clear why he had moved the receiver to your opposite hand, to the opposite side of your head—you pulled in a small, sharp gasp as his mouth touched the shell of your ear.

“H-he can hear me,” you added quietly, clenching your eyes shut as his hand clenched around the thin material of his shirt that covered your stomach and half of your thighs, tugging it a few inches higher. You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against the edge of your jaw.

“I wonder,” he murmured, “how long you can keep your composure, pretty bird.” He chuckled lightly at the shiver his voice sent through you—a shiver that, no matter how much you wanted it to be, wasn’t entirely in fear.

“Does he have any intention of harming you that you’re aware of?” asked Bogard. His tone was lighter now, but still kept its usual air of authority

“I—I don’t think so,” you said, fighting to keep your breath level as Mihawk trailed his lips lightly down the length of your neck, lifting his free hand to your jaw, urging you to lie your head back. You obeyed the silent command, your shoulders tensing as the back of your head fell back against his shoulder. “H—he-he wanted more details on the offer. The—the Warlord—”

“I’m sure he does,” said Bogard curtly. “And I’m more than willing to discuss it with him. Our immediate concern at the present is your safety. Are you able to tell us where you are?”

“I…”

“Go ahead, little cadet.” You swallowed at Mihawk’s low, amused murmur against your neck, his words affirming that he could still hear both ends of the conversation. “Tell Mommy and Daddy exactly where you are.” You bit back a whimper as he nipped lightly at your neck, his hand at your chin drifting down the column of your throat, stopping to circle a finger around the top button of your shirt.

“A study in one of the towers in the castle on Kuraigana Island,” you forced out quickly, tour words pressing together as he lifted you by your hip and shifted your position, pressing his knee between your thighs to push them further open.

“Alright. Good.” Bogard’s words sounded more distant to you with every passing second, your focus shifting to Mihawk’s hand slipping open the top button of your shirt. “You sound weak.”

“S-seastone,” you said quietly, fighting to keep the tremor out of your voice as the second button came loose, revealing the top of your plain white bra. You bit your lip, watching him push the shirt open enough to trace his fingers along the edge of the undergarment. “Seastone shackles. So I can’t use my devil fruit ability to escape.”

Even though he had removed the shackles before leading you up here, it was the first explanation that jumped to your mind to account for the low, trembling quality of your voice.

“Seastone. Of course,” Bogard said coolly. “Should have guessed. Wouldn’t have been difficult to salvage from one of the hundreds of our ships he’s destroyed…” He let out a sigh. “Do your best to stay safe. Do not attempt to escape on your own. Is that understood?”

“Mm—mm-hmm,” you hummed, almost whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip as Mihawk tugged the last few buttons of the shirt open, moving his hands to your shoulders to push the material down.

“Off,” he murmured against you jaw. “And you’ll hand the phone back to me.”

“H—he wants to—”

“Then put him back on,” said Bogard.

You quickly shifted the phone back to your other hand, and Mihawk plucked it away, holding it out at arm’s length as he briefly leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as he commanded once more, “Off, pretty girl. Let me see you. I won’t ask again.” He pulled the receiver to his ear as you complied, trembling as you slowly shrugged the material away from your shoulders, pulling it free from your arms. “Bogard, was it?” you heard him say. “Oh, yes. I am very interested to hear more of how your people think any pirate might be inclined to consider becoming a government lapdog.”

He tugged you back against him again the moment you were free of the shirt, his fingertips tracing leisurely circles over the plane of your stomach.

Drifting higher and higher, playing against the edge of your ribs.

Slipping just beneath the lower edge of your bra, his lips curling into a smirk at the way you tensed against him, in some mix of anxiety and anticipation, growing less and less able to differentiate between the two.

Clenching your eyes shut and biting your tongue against a small whimper as he pushed his hand higher, cupping the swell of your breast in his palm, squeezing his fingers lightly around the pliable flesh.

You could hear his voice as the conversation dragged on, his tone as curt and professional as Bogard’s, but you could scarcely make out a single detail of his words with his rough hand brushing across your breasts, occasionally rolling around the sensitive points of your nipples, forced to use every ounce of your will to keep yourself silent—to pull your own hand up to cover your mouth and muffle a small cry when he lightly pinched one of the sensitive protrusions near the end of the conversation.

“Well, that’s all very intriguing,” he said with a light chuckle as he pulled you tighter against him. “I’ll have to take a bit of time to consider such a tempting proposal. I think...oh, forty-eight hours? Well, if that’s acceptable for you, then it’s more than acceptable for me.” You tensed as he shifted his hand beneath your bra, whimpering as he pinched your nipple a bit harder. “Ten o’clock, two days from now. Perfect. And be sure to inform your vice admiral that I’ll take very good care of our little cadet in the meantime. Oh, of course. No harm at all.”

He lowered his head, continuing in a murmur against your ear, his breath hot against your neck.

“She might not even want to return to your command once I’m through with her.”

#one piece #opla #mihawk x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #yandere #yandere mihawk #fan fiction #one piece fan fiction #one piece fanfic #mihawk x reader fanfic #dracule mihawk x reader fanfic #flightrisk

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 year ago

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Imagine DND night with the beast pirates

During one session

Queen: Alright, you idiots somehow managed to kidnap the ambassador. You have him tied up in the dank, dark, dilapidated dungeon of the old capital ruins.

King: We need to interrogate him for answers, it's clear that he's working for the necromancer, he might know where he is. I roll for intimidation, *rolls* sixteen.

Queen: *mutters,* of course that is where you go with it, pervert. *Speaks loudly,* Your intimidation is only slightly successful. The ambassador knows his life is in danger and needs to flee. However, he refuses to answer your questions. He proclaims, "I will never tell you anything, I shall be loyal to my master till my last breath!"

Kaido: *really in the character of his half-orc barbarian* that can be arranged, little man.

Queen: *rolls for him* The ambassador stutters, his voice quivering, "I just received messages from him and carried out his bidding, I don't know where he is really."

Yamato: Perception check, I'd like to see if he is lying.

Queen: you'll need a nineteen or higher, Are you sure you want to do that?

Yamato: *rolls* nat 20.

Queen: you can tell he's lying big time, you can practically smell the nervous flop sweat on this guy from across the room.

You: I can make him talk, I cast heat metal on his bones.

Queen: heat metal only works on metal, it's literally in the name of the spell. It doesn't work on bones, since they're made of calcium.

You: and calcium is a soft metal.

Queen: what's your source.

You: *came prepared to dispute this because you've been looking for an excuse to use this knowledge for evil. You pulled out an advanced chemistry textbook with the page bookmarked and the section highlighted, and handed it to him.* Read it and weep.

Queen: *puts on his reading glasses to read it* ... Dear god, okay, you cast heat metal, roll a d10 for me.

You: *rolls* 8

Queen: and with a plus three modifiers... you heat his bones until he's screaming. The ambassador lasts only thirty seconds before he reveals that the wizard necromancer, Typhus the Terrible, lives in the glittering palace deep in the inky caverns of Roptian, which is guarded by the onyx dragon.

Sasaki: yer kind of scary sometimes.

You: thank you.

At another session

Queen: okay, you enter the throne room, and the evil wizard is lounging on the glittering throne, Typhus the Terrible.

King: I roll for initiative *rolls dice*

Queen: critical fail, your fighter is dead.

Kaido: *rolls for attack* critical fail.. Hmm, I hate this game.

Queen: you are also dead, (y/n), you are the only one left with any spell slots or turns left. What are you gonna do?

You: ... I would like to cast summon water

King: there goes that campaign.

Queen: that spell lets you fill a space with water, are you sure that's what you want to do.

You: yes

Queen: the room fills with water

You: I didn't cast it in the room.

Queen: where then did you cast it?

You: inside the wizard's skull.

The whole room: *horrified*

Queen: you can't do that

You: the spell specifies that it fills a space, and a skull cavity is a space. And you let me fill the chest down the hall with water, why not this dude's head?

Queen: ugh, hang on a minute, I need to figure out the damage.... You killed the boss... You flooded his brain with so much water, that his skull exploded.

King: that's the most messed up thing I've ever heard.

Kaido: *mutters* we've done worse.

You: you should be very glad I don't have a devil fruit

King: I'm starting to see that now, thank you.

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#from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #kaido #op #sasaki #queen #queen the plague #yamato #no beta we die like men #dnd #1/29/24

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devildomwriter · 1 year ago

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Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy

Lucifer

He likes manga that reads like classic literature, dark stories, mysteries, psychological stories, and occasionally something sweet or cute

Monster, Devilman, Children of the Sea, A Country Without Humans, Doomsday With My Dog, Island in a Puddle, Erased, For the Kid I Saw In My Dreams, Innocent, Shonen Note

Mammon

He likes stories involving his personal hobbies like working on cars, gambling, etc. he also enjoys funny stories and secretly cute romances or relatable romances

The Brave-Tuber, Call of the Night, Fruits Basket, Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan, Initial D, Fairy Tail, Chio’s School Road, Gambling Apocolypse, Kakeguri, Prince Freya

Leviathan

Leviathan loves everything but he’s especially a fan of gaming manga, magical girls, monster girls, isekai, and the classics

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Black Butler, Berserk, Darling in the Franxx, Dragon Goes House Hunting, I Want to Be A Wall, The Great Snake’s Bride, Puella Magi Madoka, Sailor Moon, Magical Girl Incident

Satan

Satan loves manga that reads like classical literature but he also loves stories about cats, dark mysteries, psychological stories and ones with characters he finds relatable

Chi’s Sweet Home, Ascendance of a Bookworm, Ex-Yakuza and Stray Kitten, Evil Secret Society of Cats, I Am a Cat Barista, Case Closed, Night of the Living Cat, Natsume’s Book of Friends, Summertime Rendering, The Promised Neverland

Asmodeus

Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether it’s cute and fluffy or extremely erotic

Ouran High School Host Club, Lovesick Ellie, Monster Musume, MADK, Yarichin Bitch Club, Cherry Magic!, Dick Fight Island, Sweat and Soap, Shiori’s Diary, Nina the Starry Bride

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a big fan of manga involving food but he also enjoys a good action adventure and sports manga

Food Wars, Delicious in Dungeon, Farming Life in Another World, Mashle, Sachi’s Monstrous Appetite, Starving Anonymous, Something’s Wrong With Us, Eyeshield 21, Kaiju No 8, Campfire Cooking in Another World With My Absurd Skill

Belphegor

Belphegor likes stories with relatable characters which can be hard to find but he also loves adventures, horror, and Slice of life; he’s a little all over the place

Sleep Princess in the Demon’s Castle, The Girl From the Other-side, Hell’s Paradise, Mieruko-Chan, Tokyo Aliens, Shibuya Goldfish, Non Non Biyori, Kemono Jihen, Beyond the Clouds, Laid Back Camp

Solomon

Solomon loves compelling narratives, dark psychological stories, stories that take a deeper look a humanity and immortality, and one’s that involves demons/angels/sorcerers. He does also love cat books like Satan

Death Note, Creepy Cat, No Longer Human, Devils and Realist, Frieren, Made in Abyss, Mao, Sakamoto Days, A School Frozen in Time, Stein’s Gate, Happiness

Thirteen

Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see what’s popular but she also enjoys slashers, one’s that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance

Elfen Lied, Attack on Titan, Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, Momo the Blood Taker, Assassination Classroom, Can’t Stop Cursing You, Love of Kill, Angels of Death, Vampire Knight, Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

Simeon

Simeon enjoys reading manga that have some religious aspects, he likes ones about authors since they are relatable, and he enjoys some random ones here and there that are cute or funny. He’s also a sucker for a pure romance

Heaven’s Design Team, Gabriel Dropout, The King’s Beast, Merman in My Tub, My Girlfriend’s Child, A Sign of Affection, Tsubaki Chou Lonely Planet, An Incurable Case of Love, Monthly Girl’s Nozaki Kun, Perfect World

Raphael

Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe he’s also he amused by one’s involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys one’s that include his hobbies like security, military, and anything to do with fashion

Blue Lock, Haikyu, Blue Exorcist, Vatican Miracle Examiner, Maiden of the Needle, My Dress Up Darling, Not Sew Wicked Step Mother, Witch Hat Atelier, A Bride’s Story, Wind Breaker

Luke

Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesn’t stumble upon anything inappropriate for his age ana angel status. He loves ones about food, animals, adventure, and a good slice of life or 4-panel.

Happy Happy Clover, Yuzu the Pet Vet, Yotsuba&!, Sui and Tai-Chan, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Dinosaur Sanctuary, Kitchen Princess, Astro Boy, Naruto

Michael

Michael enjoys funny books, one’s that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and one’s involving angels and demons.

Spy X Family, Maximum Ride, Takane and Hana, Obey Me! The Comic, Mr Villain’s Day Off, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Les Miserables, Apothecary Diaries, Deer King, Yona of the Dawn

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles likes books that involve history, nobility, prestigious jobs, mystery, and equestrian sports. He also enjoys one’s about demons and servants.

From the Red Fog, Derby Queen, The Elusive Samurai, Imperfect Girl, Peach Boy Riverside, The Splendid Work of the Monster Maid, Tales of the Kingdom, Tokyo Ghoul, Noragami, The Rose of Versailles

Barbatos

Barbatos prefers books that are dark and disturbing as well as insightful books on time, immortality, grief, morality vs law, etc.

Phantom Tales of the Night, My Dear Curse Casting Vampiress, A Silent Voice, Orange, Moriarty the Patriot, Nicola Traveling Around the Demon World, Royal Tutor, Usatoki Rhetoric, The Valiant Must Fall, To Your Eternity

Diavolo

Diavolo absolutely loves cute family manga, funny manga, one’s that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isn’t picky and will read anything if it’s been recommended to him.

Wolf Childen, Earthian, The Devil is a Part-Timer, Seraph of the End, Mama Akuma, Little Devils, Cells at Work, Snow White With Red Hair, The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions, Azumanga Diaoh

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