#SIP for Volatility | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daosies · 10 months ago

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when you get injured

sylus, xavier, rafayel ♡ gn!reader

warnings: alcohol (sylus), graphic depictions of violence, sylus is his own warning he's so freaky (but hes so fine), major story spoilers (all three), blood, mc is the protagonist but gender neutral, lowercase intended

notes: MISTY INVASION GOT ME

sylus always looks forward to your calls.

he likes listening to you ramble about the little nothings of your day, the mindless white noise that echoes from your end whenever you get lost in thought.

more often than not, sylus isn't satisfied with just that. sometimes, he wishes he could witness your expressions for himself rather than through the chirps and retellings from mephisto, to narrow the distance between the two of you.

clink! he lifts a glass of whiskey up to his lips.

sylus eyes his phone before taking a sip, gaze beginning to drift around the vastness of his bedroom. warm lamps illuminate the corners and his attention redirects towards the various plushies that line the shelves.

ever-so slightly, the corners of his lips break into the subtlest of smiles.

his gaze returns to the phone.

later than usual, sylus thinks, staring at the pretentious (according to you) grandfather clock in his room. tick, tick. its tempo mimics his heartbeat, the steady rhythm falling into place.

sylus's days are redundant—they have been for quite a while—but what he always looks forward to is your calls, which always come at this time.

except for today, it seems. even though you're not obligated to call him, and you never told him that these calls would become a regular occurrence, sylus has grown expectant. terribly so.

he takes another sip of his drink, eyes darting back and forth from his phone to his wristwatch.

sylus would like to maintain his image as an independent, mysterious alpha; but you—oh, you—have a knack at dismembering him, at taking apart the chambers of his heart and weaving yourself into its tissue. you tattoo yourself into his skin, permeating into his existence without ever realizing.

you've always been a little cruel. sylus likes that about you.

tick, tick. he half-considers calling you first. when it comes to you, sylus has nothing to lose—from the crimson of his irises to the crimson of his blood, he's surrendered everything, offering all that he has in a ferocious, lovely organ that goes, endlessly: thump, thump, thump...

he thinks of your fantastic beauty. the tempo stutters.

tick, tick. ring! sylus reaches for his phone within an instant, not caring about luke and kieran's spiel about how a "real charmer" would wait for the phone to ring multiple times before picking up. but sylus doesn't have time to play games like that—he wants to hear your voice and he wants to hear it now.

"so, you finally decided to call, hm?" sylus asks, swirling his drink leisurely. he brings the glass up to his lips, unable to contain the way a smirk breaks out onto his face, the way you do so much as exist, the way you radiate and oh, the way you seek him out!

sylus thinks he's never felt so satisfied before, with all that he's ever achieved, you just might be the greatest of them all.

and he hasn't even achieved you yet. he thinks he never will; you've always been volatile, wildly beautiful and wildly free. again, sylus likes that about you.

you don't respond. sylus sets his glass down on the table, unbothered, smirk still fixed onto his lips. that is until he hears a loud crash from your end, the sound of labored breaths following soon after.

"[name]?" sylus calls, standing up immediately. his whiskey remains forgotten, free hand reaching for the leather coat draped across his chair, the fabric still stained red from earlier events.

sylus has no time to worry about how he presents himself, because before you can even utter another word, he's racing out of his pretentious (according to you) mansion and swinging a leg over his motorbike.

the steady tempo of his heart begins to race, beating the rhythm of the grandfather clock that, endlessly, echoes tick, tick... sylus attributes its consistency to the fact that the grandfather clock, in all its glory, has never had the pleasure of knowing you.

if it did, then its flow would be disrupted, its rhythm would stutter and leap, and sylus knows this fact all too well because it's happened to him. because it's happening to him.

thump, thump-thump... "[name]," sylus calls. he says your name just to say it, to feel its syllables on his tongue, to swallow the sound and let it reverberate throughout his chest, easing the spasm of his heart and the fracturing of his ribs.

"[name], talk to me," sylus says, the steadiness of his voice starkly contrasting the tremble of his irises. "[name], i'll be there. count to three?"

one. he revvs the engine.

two. his fingers tighten around the handlebars.

three. the tempo of his heart goes, achingly, thump-thump-thump, thump... for a second, the sound changes. for a second, the sound shifts and utters, in the softest of timbres: you.

black and red tendrils spew from the ground below you, wrapping your figure in a tender embrace whilst the sound of an engine rings throughout your ears.

smoke envelopes the room, your vision becoming blurry while the tendrils shrink away, their absence filled in by the warmth of calloused hands.

sylus lifts you up, pressing your head against his chest before whispering, "go to sleep, darling. it'll all be over soon."

when your eyes lull back, and your body falls limp, sylus goes mad. his hands never leave your figure, his evol forming limbs to strangle your opponent, watching the way they writhe and scream without ever tearing his gaze away.

"report," sylus demands, talking to no one.

"after finding out [name] was closely associated with you, boss, this person tried to get some information about you." still, someone responds.

sylus chuckles. "two corrections." he steps towards the suffocating person, crimson gaze trailing theirs and landing on you. when he notices this, sylus clicks his tongue, tightening the tendrils of his evol and forcing the perpetrator to look away from you.

tenderly, sylus caresses the side of your face, as if to brush away that person's distateful gaze.

"[name] and i are more than just close associates," sylus continues with his previous statement, holding you closer towards him. he finds solace in the way your chest rises up and down, reassuring him of your vitality, your incomparable radiance.

"and," he says, retracting his evol. the person falls to the floor with a harsh thud, and sylus merely tilts his head in the direction of the body, commanding the twins to clean the corpse up.

"that isn't a person. it's just some pest. kieran, don't make that mistake again."

luke snickers.

kieran straightens up, mop in hand. "yes, boss!"

only when your breathing steadies does sylus's heart return to its regular rhythm, matching the pace of the pretentious grandfather clock.

you've taken his bed (he's given it, really), and sylus doesn't bother pulling up a chair; sinking to his knees as he gazes at you fearfully, reverently. his hands come up to cover yours, elbows digging into the mattress. the warmth of your skin mixes with his own.

you've taken his bed, but sylus thinks that that's only one of the many things you've taken. you've taken his mind, his heart, him. you've taken all that he's got to give, all that he's ever fathomed of being his.

"you're always so cruel," sylus mutters to himself, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

(but, i love that about you, he thinks.)

your head and side are wrapped with bandages, tended to by sylus himself. he doesn't trust anyone else—not even luke or kieran—when it comes to treating you; you're too delicate, too fragile for a place like this.

sylus's gaze remains fixed on the bridge of your nose, the cracks of your lips. sweat trickles down your forehead, your brows furrowed from discomfort and nightmares plaguing your sleep. he reaches a hand to brush the sweat away, grazing across your skin until your brows ease up, until your expression drifts into that of contentedness.

oh, you're beautiful. ethereally so.

(you don't belong here.)

still, sylus's hand traces over yours. he feels the callouses adorning your palm, marred by your work as a hunter. filling the gaps of your fingers with his own, sylus's hand locks into place.

(you call it abduction. he calls it love.)

whenever it comes to you, xavier is on high alert.

he's always hyper aware of your location, your status and your surroundings. whenever you fight wanderers together—as partners often do—he's always thinking of you, of ways to redirect everything towards him, of ways to get you as far away as possible.

for the longest time, xavier thought that that'd be enough. he thought that, so long as you're okay, he doesn't care about what happens to him, about what happens to anything. he's always thought that, really. here and philos alike.

"xavier!" you yell, and before he can even react, your figure comes colliding with his, arms wrapping tightly around the back of his neck as the two of you tumble towards the ground.

he doesn't know what went wrong—was it his clumsiness? was it his arrogance? he had always thought that, so long as you were safe, nothing else mattered.

but xavier had never thought of a situation where he was the one at risk, where he was the one who needed saving. he had never thought that you'd be the one to sacrifice yourself, because, ever since he met you, xavier identified himself as a sword, as a weapon at your disposal.

he is your weapon. he is yours.

xavier's hand comes to the small of your back, feeling the blood seep in between the gaps of his fingers. his breath falls short of escaping, shrinking down his esophagus and bringing everything, from the race of his heart to the warmth of his face to a standstill.

primal instincts take over. xavier fights with tooth and nail, forgetting all that he's learned from his swordsmanship classes—but oh, never forgetting his time with you—while his grip around your waist tightens.

his movements are quick and wild as he slices through each wanderer with the efficiency of a machine, running on a code that prints out, endlessly, you, you, you.

after everything has been eliminated, xavier reaches for your neck, searching desperately for a pulse. after confirming that it's there, he teleports away to the nearest hospital, free palm pressing into the center of your wound.

xavier's scared. he's scared you won't make it. he's scared he's failed you. he's scared of a lot of things, really.

when you're wheeled away in a stretcher, tended to by a whole team of medical professionals, xavier's left yearning and waiting, clinging onto nothing but hope and a fragmented memory of you. he's always yearned—back in philos and here, now—but it's a little different this time.

you've always been out of reach, like you were a star and he, an observer. but now, you're so tangible, so delicate and so fleeting despite being right there.

xavier feels like you could disappear within an instant, and he wouldn't put it past you to leave this life behind, to restart anew somewhere else. with someone who was a little stronger than him, a little less selfish.

he's selfish. so what?

you evoke something primal within him, something that makes him forget his etiquette classes and his time at the academy, wasting away at textbooks and duels. you make xavier burn, wildly, fantastically, like a flame—like a star, even.

you make him feel unlike himself, because xavier's used to being calm and collected and oh-so drowsy, but when it comes to you, everything changes. the world reinvents itself anew and presents itself, fogged in a pink lens, as something lovelier than before.

xavier resigns himself to one of the many chairs of the waiting room. he buries his face into his gloved hands, not caring about the messiness of his appearance.

when he closes his eyes, all he can see is your limp figure. he opts to stare at the television screen instead, the reports of the news appearing mute to his deafened ears. xavier swallows thickly, mouth feeling terribly dry, wrapped around the shape of your name. it waits.

a couple hours pass, and a nurse appears to fetch him. xavier says nothing, tongue still stuck in time.

only when he enters your room, and listens to the repetitive beep of the heart monitor, does his mouth free itself from its prison, liberating itself to utter, in the faintest of whispers, "[name]..."

you don't stir awake. xavier's fine with that. he pulls a chair to your bedside, and he sits, and he stares. periwinkle eyes trail across your features, tracing them like a sculptor, desperate to reshape the bandages and gauzes that cover your abdomen.

xavier wishes he could crawl into your body and steal all the pain for himself.

there's a great, irrevocable instinct within him, the kind of instinct that is only ever sung about in epics and myths and tragic, star-crossed plays.

he reaches forward, bare thumb coming to graze over your cheekbone. you're quiet, too quiet, and xavier's paranoid. too paranoid.

there's a great, irrevocable instinct within him. it takes over xavier's eyes and it trains them to fixate on you.

your image slips into his sight, swallowed greedily by xavier's pupils, remembered fervently by his mind. while his hands cannot have you, xavier compensates with his eyes, desperate and mad and oh, so lovely.

there's a great, irrevocable instinct within him. it's primal and it's primitive and it's hungry.

xavier forfeits his beloved sleep in order to watch over your heart monitor, to watch over your heart.

even when all the lights shut off, and when the device's beeps blend into the white noise of the hospital room, his periwinkle gaze never leaves your figure, adjusting to the darkness and finding solace there.

(a star has landed on earth. it's guided by a great, irrevocable instinct. it's primal and it's primitive and it's hungry.)

once more, xavier's mouth wraps around the shape of your name. it utters, in the softest of timbres, "[name], i love you."

although you aren't awake to respond, xavier is content with just this.

(a star has landed on earth. it stayed because it found you.)

"[name]," he whispers again, finding comfort in the familiar syllables, "i love you." maybe, saying it will make it realer than it already is. maybe, saying it will satiate his soul, providing him with enough sustenance to feast on for the next century or two.

maybe, xavier just calls your name to feel its syllables on his tongue. because he likes the sound of your name. because he wants to hear it, in whatever capacity, whenever he can.

maybe, it's just a great, irrevocable instinct.

whatever it is, xavier is content. he stares at you, and he feasts.

it always goes like this: with rafayel chasing after you.

you have a habit of leaving him behind—rafayel thinks it's just in your nature.

you give him a taste of everything before leaving him with nothing, and even though rafayel hates, hates you for that, he can't help but want everything again.

(he had everything, once.)

"[name]!" the scream that erupts from rafayel's throat is raw, marred by a desperation and anguish that travels across lifetimes. rafayel can't lose you—not again, not like this.

"raf—" you're interrupted by a violent cough, blood spilling from your lips. "just go!"

and there you go again, in all your selfish glory, in all your inconsiderate and shameless heroism. do you like watching his expression drop into that of utter horror, when all he's ever wanted was you?

he can never get his way.

"ugh," he mutters to himself, voice cracking at the end. "i just hate you, you know!?" your gaze is preoccupied by the giant wanderer that looms over your figure, its attention belonging wholly to you.

rafayel has the audacity to be offended. hello? he manages to think, despite all the fear and anxiety. why's it not looking at me? i'm right here!

you aim your gun at the wanderer's head, and rafayel almost wants to laugh. to think you're fighting close-combat with guns—wow, what an accomplished bodyguard you are!

rafayel is half-considering finding a new bodyguard now, because it looks like his current one isn't too bright in the head.

rafayel hates the way you go around, saving everyone, saving everything. he hates the way you save and the way you forget, the way you go around picking up more strays whilst forgetting your first one.

rafayel hates you. he hates you. he hates you!

despite all the pain and soreness in his (self-proclaimed) delicate limbs, he rushes forward, daggers in hand while fire vomits from the ground. rafayel hates you, sure, but hate and love are lawfully wedded, tightly intertwined and fueled by one another.

rafayel hates you. he hates you. but oh, he loves you. he loves you in the way he's willing to let you keep that heart of his, the way orpheus loved eurydice, the way he did everything and anything, only to catch a glimpse before losing it all.

he charges in front of you, occupying the wanderer while you take a couple steps back. rafayel half-wishes you'd run. he half-wishes you'd turn and abandon him so he could find it in himself to abandon you. you did it once before, so why can't you do it again?

when bullets stop flying, rafayel wonders if you left. he wonders if it's really over. so, he looks back.

you're still there. this time, you don't disappear. your eyes meet his, and somehow, you find it in yourself to smile.

he wants to cry.

"rafayel, let's resonate!"

and oh, you're otherwordly. you're so, so gorgeous. it's in the flame that dances across your irises, the determination that settles into your features.

you're so beautiful it hurts, because rafayel hates the effect you have on him, the way you go around enchanting everyone, everything!

when crimson blood trickles down your face, staining your skin a violent red, rafayel thinks you're sublime. he feels insignificant in your radiance, in your marvelous existence, your marvelous world.

"fine, let's!"

your hand locks with his, and rafayel hates the way his heart skips a beat. he hates the way yours didn't. he hates the way he's the only one overthinking these things, the only one who remembers after all this time.

the world is engulfed in flames. and rafayel spares you a glance, your skin illuminated by the warmth, flickering in and out. the wanderer disintegrates into ash, leaving nothing but a measly protocore for all the suffering it put him through.

your eyes fall back. instinctively, rafayel reaches a hand out, catching you in his arms despite hating the way you contort his limbs, the way you make him trail after you like a madman.

he is anything but a madman—in fact, rafayel is perfectly normal.

still, he cradles you in his arms. blood trickles from the side of your face.

"you're not the only one bleeding," rafayel mutters bitterly, feeling lightheaded himself. "who do you even think you are?"

his thumb comes to brush your chapped lips, wiping stray droplets of blood from the dried skin.

you're ethereal. rafayel will never admit that outloud. not like this. but, he thinks that you're something akin to a grecian statue, reflecting all that is lovely and all that is mortal.

rafayel thinks that, when you were crafted—long before this current incarnation—you were crafted with the most delicate of touches, the loveliest of visions.

he looks at you, and he wants to create. he wants to waste away at his canvases, wild and fanatic and looking over his shoulder, wondering if you'll still be there when it's all over.

knowing your nature, you won't be.

still, rafayel can't help but dream. dreams can change the world, after all. dreams are what led him back to you.

his thumb reaches for his own lips. he kisses the skin and he weeps.

rafayel hates you.

he hates you so, so much.

he shrinks into your figure and he follows your heartbeat, the sound so, achingly familiar.

when you regain consciousness, it's in rafayel's studio. your figure is drowned in pearl-white blankets, your wounds wrapped tenderly with fresh bandages.

"good mooorning, sleepyhead," rafayel says, not facing you. his hands are occupied with a brush and palette, head craned upward to fully take in the canvas. "some bodyguard you are, huh!"

"rafayel!" you quickly exclaim, trying to stand up. rafayel is quick to turn around, setting his palette down to wag a disapproving finger at you.

"nuh uh! don't get out of bed! get some rest! and oh, don't even talk to me! not until you've apologized for doing all that dumb, fish-brained stuff!"

rafayel looks back. you're still there.

in this life, rafayel thinks he has everything.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lnds x reader #rafayel x mc #loveanddeepspace #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #xavier love and deepspace

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jubshead · 7 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐤

Paring: Mentor!Lilia Calderu x Reader

Summary: With volatile and unpredictable magic you never know what can happen.

A/N: Still grasping how to write Lilia, so I hope it’s in character!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

I hope you guys like it, let me know!!

Warning: Accidental magic, Magic cock, Blow jobs, Vaginal sex, Creampie, Large dick

Word count: 3.7k

Date: Nov 09, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist | Taglist | Read on ao3

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @mgruiz @yippie-kai-gay @confuseuniverse @aggieharkness @thesharkwhalewhoohooooo @walkethisway @honkhonktheslutshere @ratsnestinmyhair @audreylise @kenzie-floops @pattiluponespopcornmaker @moonlightprincess696 @trindad2k @etherynn @astrxinze

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The kettle makes a hissing sound, the boiling herbs fill the room with a sweet scent and the morning sun shines into the stove. The gray haired witch hums a tune under her breath and walks around the room, collecting more ingredients for the tea. She feels freshness in the air, an inkling that something good is about to happen.

Sundays are always calm, she closes up the shop for the day and entertains her apprentice. You’ve been working under Lilia’s guidance for a month, being the only witch in your family meant that no one could teach you. You were lucky enough to stumble upon her one day when browsing on your computer.

You aren’t a divination witch, you still don’t know what your deal is, but your magic is volatile and unpredictable. Lilia teaches you with the best of her abilities, and that is more than you could ask for, you look up to her and dream of reaching her level of wisdom.

As you enter the shop, you hear her moving around in the back. Walking into the room, you halt when the tarot reader stops in her tracks. Her entire body freezes and she lets out an unrestrained moan in the middle of the kitchen.

Pursing your lips, you wait for her ‘episode’ to end.

“Hi.” You let out timidly, standing by the bead curtain.

She turns around, wide eyed and arms raised in the air.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned.

She waves you off with a flick of her hands, facing the stove once again. Her visions always seem to sour her mood and leave you anxious, more times than not, she doesn’t know what they mean.

Passing the strap of your bag over your head, you place it on the squared table before heading to the counter. Resting your hip against it, you observe Lilia grab the kettle with a towel clad hand.

“Do you want some tea, doll?” She pours it in two mugs before waiting for an answer, you nod either way.

She passes you the ceramic cup and you rapidly grab into the handle when it burns you. The aroma hits your nose and you groan. Lilia always makes the best beverages and this time you smell a blend of lavender, lemongrass, and a few other herbs you couldn’t quite identify. The taste is as divine as the scent.

“How have you been this week?” She leans next to you.

“I’ve been fine.” You tell her uncertainty and amends. “There have been a few accidents…nothing I couldn’t handle, though.”

She hums into the mug as she takes a sip.

“And those ‘accidents’ were?” She probes.

Swallowing the liquid, you hide your face behind the cup.

“Okay. Let's start then. The sooner you can control your magic the better.” She walks past you, her robe fluttering behind her.

Leaving the empty cup in the sink, you follow her to the middle of the room.

“Did you practice what I told you?” She asks patiently.

“Hum…” You hesitate. “I did.”

“And?” All her weight shifts to one leg as she places a hand on her waist.

“Well, it worked!” You exclaim, trying to lay her off. She raises her eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. “To a certain extent…”

“Okay.” She takes a breath in and straightens her spine, arms at her side. “Show me.”

Transfiguration.

You’ve moved beyond learning how to change the corporeal form of an object, and have now evolved to modifying the physical appearance of yourself and others. What she’s teaching is pretty basic, but for someone who didn’t know she was a witch for most of her life, it’s hard to grasp, especially with a temperamental magic like yours.

Closing your eyes and concentrating, you feel goosebumps rise up on your skin as your magic flows through you. When your powers are under control, they feel like a waterfall being released, spreading over your body and consuming you. Outbursts were a very different story.

Opening your eyes, you see your mentor gently smiling at you.

“Good, that’s good.” She praises, and you break into a huge grin.

Receiving her approval is something that always warms your insides.

Grabbing your hairs ends, you observe the change in color. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was enough for you to see your improvement. You turn the purple strands back to their natural color.

“Great. My turn.” She says encouragingly.

Pressing your tongue against your lips, you grimace at her.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“You have to learn.” She tells you firmly before adding. “As a witch, you must know how to defend yourself.”

You blink at her.

“Relax, baby. Anything you throw at me I can reverse.”

Your brain short circuits at the pet name.

That was probably your downfall. Lilia always tells you true witchcraft takes time and concentration, especially for beginners.

Her expectant face makes you close your eyes, and let the magic flow through you again, but this time it's different. Your head thinks of nothing else besides Lilia’s voice and how she called you, you can’t focus on your intention and you feel the spell going wrong before it’s completely finished. In an attempt to join your jumbled thoughts and the power running over your skin, you imagine Lilia with longer fingers.

It doesn't seem to work because in a few seconds you hear a screech.

“Divine Mother.”

Peaking through one eye, you first glance at her face, her reaction making you expect a major change in her appearance. She looks the same, her hair still tied up, her nose doesn’t look bigger like some sort of wicked witch and her eyes remain the same color, the only thing you notice is her shock.

Her arms are raised breast level and that’s the next thing you look at. Expecting sausage like fingers, you’re surprised when you’re met with her usual handful of rings.

“What?” You frown.

Your gaze drifts over her figure and that’s when you notice the bulge in her skirt.

Squinting, you almost crouch down to get a closer look. The thing is huge, cylindrical and pressing forward, clearly constricted by something. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with what’s in front of you and you stare long enough for Lilia to clear her throat. You glance up and it dawns on you. Oh, god.

“What were you thinking about when you did the spell?” You gape like a fish out of water.

Was she honestly continuing the lesson as if this wasn’t happening?

“Well, I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that.” You gesticulate widely, a blush rising in your cheeks.

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sways. The movement makes her skirt brush against the hard on and you gulp when your vision is automatically drawn to it.

“Concentrate.” She tells you firmly and you meet her eyes, pursing your lips.

“Why are you losing? That’s a simple transfiguration spell, you can undo it. You just told me that!”

“No, it isn’t.” She speaks calmly, noticing she’s making you anxious. “This is a magical penis, a much more advanced incantation. You shouldn’t be able to do this at this stage.”

“Okay…?”

“There’s no way I can make this go away.” She speaks to you like someone does to a child.

“What?” You ask, agitated.

“Advanced magic, harder to undo.” She tells you simply. “There’s only two ways to get rid of it. The caster has to be the one to take it away.”

“Well, let's do it. It’s not that difficult, right? I’ve already put it there.” You respond with renewed energy, waving at her crotch.

This is not going to be a bigger problem than it should.

“No, it’s not easy. You did this by accident.” Your sight strays to it again and it looks like it’s staring right back at you. “You need to focus this time, so you can do it consciously.”

You hum absently before closing your eyes. The problem is: the image of that monster is buried in your brain. You focus on it, but the only thing that crosses your mind is its size, what it would be like to have it throbbing in your hands, pounding into you...

“Stop, stop, stop.” Lilia huffs in front of you, turning around and sitting on the armchair.

“What, what is it?” You follow her and stand by her side, she rests her forehead on her propped hand, eyes closed.

“You made it bigger.” She tells you pointedly.

The penis really does seem magic, it hypnotizes you and you can’t take your eyes off it. Whenever you notice Lilia isn’t looking, you glance down, partially seeing the bulge covered by her dress and robe.

Wetting your lips, you ask. “Well, what is the other way?”

“Huh?” She’s clearly lost in thoughts.

Moving to perch in front of her, you focus on her face.

“You said there are two ways to get rid of it. We tried the first one, what is the second?”

She presses her lips and you wait.

“It needs…release.”

“Oh.” You slowly back away towards the door. “I’ll leave and you can…y’know?” You finish by making a lewd motion.

She narrows her eyes, you stop dead in your treks. A small breeze fills the room as you linger, sensing there’s something more.

“It needs to be sheathed.” She pauses. “Climax inside something.”

You take a deep breath before asking. “Is there…Is there someone who can help you?”

God, you didn’t know anything about her personal life. Meeting every sunday meant you’ve only seen each other about four times, and there couldn’t be a worse situation to ask her that.

“No.” She tells you and, by the way she answers, you refrain from making any more questions.

The morning sun shines over the room, in the distance you hear cars passing by on the street and the silence hangs as you stare at each other.

You are embarrassed to admit, but it doesn’t take long for you to reach a decision. As much as you try to fool yourself by claiming that you wanted to help because you were the one who put her in this situation, you know it’s bullshit. Lilia has you on her hands, you’ve been attracted to her from the start and there weren't enough words to describe what she does to you.

Watching as she looks up, praying to her goddess, you move. She brings her head down to follow you with her eyes as you kneel in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She asks you seriously.

“I’m helping you.” You respond, lightly placing your hands on her calves.

Her palm rests on your cheek and you lean into it.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do it. It's my fault you’re like this.” Seeing the hesitation in her face, you grab her wrist. “Please, let me.”

She stares you down and gives you a tight smile.

“I- Are you sure?”

You nod more excitedly than you should, the eagerness accidently showing on your face.

She doesn’t say anything else, so you take it as a ‘yes’. Her body is leaning forward, her elbows resting on the arms of the reclining chair and you feel how tense she is. The bulge is right in your face and with trembling hands you roll up her skirt.

The gasp that leaves you is involuntary. Butchin her dress at the waist, you take a moment to look at it. It’s mostly constricted by her underwear, but you can clearly see how big it is. You take a deep breath before pulling her panties down.

You stare open mouthed. The length is as white as her skin, the head is a light pink and a few gray hairs dust her balls. It weirdly matches her and stands proudly in front of you. The hard on seems painful.

A monster indeed.

“This looks uncomfortable.” You mumble, unable to take your eyes off it.

“It is.” A constrained chuckle follows the statement.

Biting your lips, you wonder how to approach this. You’ve never been a blowjob type of girl, when you used to date men you always avoided as much as you could, and even when you did it, it wasn’t enjoyable. This feels different, though. Your underwear is already wet just by thinking about it.

Your mentor clears her throat and you peer up at her.

“You don’t have to do this.” Her hand runs through your hair.

“Lilia, relax.” You tell her forcefully and grab her thighs.

One of your hands circles it and her hips buckle, palms fly back to the armchair and nails bite into the fabric as you slowly start to move. By the way it looks, it won’t take long for her to come and a feeling of disappointment dawns on you. It makes sense for a magical penis to be ready for action, but you wish you could take your time with it.

Running your thumb from the base all the way to the head, you collect the pre-cum in there before pushing it back and making the same path with your tongue. Lilia groans and you feel her tension melting a notch. You replace your fingers with your mouth, licking the bead before swallowing it whole.

It doesn’t take a genius to notice that this thing isn’t going down your throat without choking you, so you focus on what you can do. Taking as much as you can, you make up for the rest with an unclosed fist, using just the right amount of pressure so as to not hurt her.

Sucking tentatively, you hear a moan and look up. Lilia’s eyes are close, mouth open as her chest rises rhythmically with her anticipated breath. Her fingers are white from the grip, and you realize she’s holding herself back from grabbing your head and forcing you down.

You groan over the cock and bob around it, your palm going to her balls and massaging them. Eyes fixated, you watch her every reaction as she stiffens under you.

You feel your arousal beneath your own skirt, it clings to your core and you refrain from using your free hand to touch yourself, compensating by placing your heel under you and matching the movement of your hips with the one of your head.

Taking a moment to breathe, you feel hands sweeping through your bangs. Glancing up, your eyes meet your mentor’s and you blush when she grabs your hair like a ponytail, taking it out of your face.

“You’re doing great, doll.” Her voice is husky, you squirm against your feet.

God, this is not helping.

You swallow at the praise and focus on your job. Still looking into her eyes, you descend and take it as much as it goes, swirling your tongue around it and bouncing as fast as you can. She tugs your hair harder and you whine against her skin, the vibration making her tear her eyes away as she throws her head back, letting out unrestrained moans as slurping sounds leave your mouth.

Grinding your hips against your heel, you feel yourself getting wetter by the second and curse for having to take care of it alone. Her groin starts to move in its own accord, she doesn’t even seem to notice as her crotch drives up and harder into your mouth, you swallow and swallow against her, focusing on your breath and controlling the rhythm. She isn’t forcing your head, just holding it and that’s fine, it’s hot that she doesn’t want to hurt you.

Drool starts to drip down your chin and you moan louder against her, feeling the erratic movement against your clit picking up speed alongside your head. You close your eyes and take in both sensations. After all, it isn’t everyday that you get to suck your mentor’s dick.

You force your head back and inhale deeply, the faster the movement, the harder it is to breathe. Your hand continues the work and the other one joins in, circling her head and pressing it.

Pushing her cock closer to her skirt, you go down to her balls, sucking one into your mouth and sooner than you expected, her whole body tightens. She lets out a loud moan and her nails sink into your scalp, you quickly try to catch her climax in your mouth before it’s too late.

An inch away, you feel a sticky consistency gushing onto your face, landing inside your mouth all the way up to your forehead.

You grimace and lick your lips, tasting the saltiness of her cum.

Passing your finger over your eyelids, you sculpt most of the liquid and open them when you hear a ‘thud’ above you. Lilia banging her head against the armchair.

“Goddammit.” Her chest rises and falls with her erratic breath, there’s a red hue on her cheeks.

“Sorry.” You mumble.

“It’s not your fault. I should have warned you.” She looks down and shock flashes across her face.

You must be quite an image with cum stuck in your hair and dripping down your face. She stares at you for a long time and you squirm, taking your heel out from under you before anything else happens.

“We can try something else.” You whisper.

“No, love. You’ve already helped more than you should. I don't want to force you a second time.” She runs her thumb over your cheek, vaguely attempting to tidy you up.

“You didn’t force me, and I’ve told you before that I don’t mind.” Emphasizing your statement, you grab her wrist and bring her finger to your mouth, sucking, licking and moaning around it.

Her pupils blow hide and she turns serious, following your movement as you stand up in front of her, lifting your short skirt and straddling her lap.

She stares at you, eyes slightly wide and lips parted. The erection stands between you, a magic cock apparently only goes down once it services its purpose. Your wet underwear touches her thighs and a beat passes before you gather enough courage to lean forward.

Grabbing her neck, you give her time to pull away. Surprising you, she grabs your wrists and pulls you forward, crashing your mouths together. Moaning, you let her tongue guide the rhythm, she makes slow movements, exploring your mouth like she wants to taste as much as she can. The kiss is languid and teasing, she takes her sweet time and you begin to rub your soaked core against her legs.

Separating, you watch as she licks her lips, looking at you like she wants to eat you alive. You brush your underwear against her cock and she groans, grabbing your waist. You’re so painfully turned on that you don’t even wait for her to say anything before you reach down and push your panties aside.

Rubbing against the hard cock, you try coating it with as much of your wetness as you can. It’s been a while since you had anything this big inside you, if ever. It looks a lot bigger than the ones you’ve seen, your hand hadn’t closed around it before.

It’s going to be a stretch.

You take a deep breath before raising up on your knees, you brush the head against your entrance and Lilia’s grip hardens. Sinking down on the tip, you pause, licking your lips before continuing. You take it half way in before stopping. This shit wasn’t only wide, its length was something you had never seen before.

Noticing your struggle, the gray haired witch leans forward, attacking your neck and sliding your shirt straps down. Her hands run from your waist to your breast, her fingers pinch your nipples and you moan, feeling wetness stick to your thigh before your core swallows more of her skin.

Slowly sitting, you feel your center stretching before your ass finally meets her balls. You halt, adjusting to the sting. Lilia’s work on your tits helps. Your spine is slightly curved as she grips your ribs and her mouth bites and sucks your chest. You feel hickeys forming in your neck and you can bet she did it on purpose, you’d have to walk around with those purple marks for about a week.

She runs her tongue over your nipple while her hand massages your other breast. You begin to slowly grind your hips in circles motion, a vibration reverberating through your chest as she moans.

Accepting the pain as pleasure, you lift yourself once and then lower. Your mentor stops her work and bites into your neck, hands gripping your waist tightly as she helps you with your movement.

You’re so desperate that you can’t even tease her, after trying once, you continue, picking up speed with Lilia’s assistance. You’re both so aroused you can feel your orgasm building up rapidly. Throwing your head back, you moan without restrain, mirroring your mentor’s groans against your neck. Her arm circles your hip and she slams into you, meeting you halfway.

Her cock is so big, you can feel it beating against your cervix and hitting all the right places as it fills you up. Her free hand goes down and finds your clit easily, rubbing in circular motions. You let out a cry and your movements become erratic, determinedly chasing your release as your walls grip her.

She’s clearly holding back and when your movements become sloppy as your body goes rigid, she lets go. You both come together, ragged breaths mingling and sweat clinging to your foreheads.

You feel her cum filling you up, the hot liquid doesn’t seem to stop and you kiss her once more as she spurts inside you. This time the kiss is faster, harder as you pull her hair and whine against her when she grabs your ass and accidentally rubs your clit against her skin.

The cum starts to run down your thighs and wet the fabrics between you, her cock still throbs inside and you feel her balls shrinking in size. There’s an absurd amount of fluid and you groan against the kiss, the cum making you excited once again.

Pulling back, you focus on the feeling of her cock decreasing inside you as it disappears, you instantly miss the feeling of fullness.

Kissing her for a third time, you calmly run your tongue against hers as you replay all this morning's events. Thanking your magic for the mishap, your eyes widen when you remember something important. You pull back.

Licking your suddenly dry lips, you frown at her and whisper.

“Should we have used a condom?”

Her mouth drops open.

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #patti lupone #lilia calderu x reader #lilia x reader #patti lupone x reader #jubshead fics

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notquitecanon · 6 months ago

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Familiarity & Whiskey // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny get in a fight, which is how Simon crosses your path. Thinking your an easy mark for quick comfort and a quick fuck, he's not aware you're in the UK to meet your estranged father. Your circles running tighter with his than he thinks...

(Unedited)

Poor Simon can't catch a fucking break. Let this man nut and smoke a cigarette.

CW: feminine descriptions and pronouns used, alcohol consumption, making out, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving), Simon's lowkey highkey manipulative, absent father!John Price, don't think too hard about age gaps i gave up

Request by: @i-live-in-spite

NSFW 18+ MDNI

"Go to hell, Riley. ‘S where ye fuckin’ belong."

That had been Johnny’s direct words.

Which was the first and only time Johnny had addressed by just his last name. Usually it was some irritating nickname, his callsign, or his rank delivered with the Scotsman’s usual bright eyes and mirth that somehow made it less annoying to Simon. And when it was his real name, in serious times, it was his first name, with a sincere look and genuine inflection. Never just ‘Riley’.

But Johnny had spit his last name like it was a curse. Something that tasted bitter in his mouth, something poisonous.

Hell, maybe it fucking was. And it had him craving something volatile- destructive. Alcohol, sex, a pack of cigarettes… and if he couldn’t get one of those to self-medicate this poisonous streak, he’d settle for bloodying his fists before the end of the night.

A shit mission with a shit conclusion. A shit day. Fuck, a shit year. Culminating in a clash between Lieutenant and Sergeant, Simon’s icy seething clashing Johnny’s explosive rage about a bad call made worse by Simon’s version of coping- cold indifference and colder jokes. Actions had consequences, isn’t that what Simon always told his sergeant? Maybe that’s why Simon was stewing in the shitty pub close to base crawling with recruits after Gaz and Price had forcibly split up the confrontation right as it was about to get physical.

Price had all but shoved him off base while Gaz took Soap somewhere to cool off- probably the gym or some equally shitty pub on opposite ends of the city. So there he was, sulking in a corner, nursing the only bourbon this bar offered, stewing over whether or not he needed to apologize.

The thought of apologizing burned worse than the bottom shelf bourbon he was sipping. He was Ghost. The Ghost. He didn’t apologize. This was one of those times he would’ve actually appreciated Price’s usually unwarranted ’sage’ advice- but he was tied up, still on base and pissed off because he was trying to wrap up mission reports and now was cleaning up Simon’s mess.

—

"Excuse me? Would it be ok if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone but the guys at the bar won’t leave me alone." You were biting your lip a little, trying your best not to look too awkward as you asked the tall, dark, and you assumed handsome but you couldn’t tell around the mask he was wearing. You felt nervous, but not to be talking to you, you were nervous for a laundry list of other reasons. Including and limited to meeting your father for the first time since you were barely three years old.

When the pub had been suggested to you, you’d thought the closeness to his base was an advantage- casual, easy, public, nearby- what you hadn’t accounted for was the herds of young soldiers that would also be there. Trying to buy yourself a drink to calm your nerves while you waited had resulted in four heinous pick up lines, three cocktail napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them, two vulgar gestures, and one marriage proposal. Like the 12 days of Christmas song, but from hell. The only place that wasn’t buzzing with sloshed young soldiers was a dark corner with an absolute behemoth of a masked man, two empties and a half drank tumbler of whiskey. Despite (or perhaps because of) the nerves, jet lag, and shot of tequila you’d just took because of said nerves, you considered yourself something of a strategist.

After you asked, narrowed amber eyes flicked up to you appraisingly, pinning you to your spot. Even slightly slouched over his drink, he was huge. Not just tall, but built like a brick house. He wasn’t wearing an actual military uniform, but everything about him just read military. He stared at you for a second, then a minutes, stretching into two. To your credit, you kept your chin high and your eyes level on his. Right as you started to say, "Never mind, sorry to bother-"

" ’s fine." His voice was deep and kind of gravelly, low enough that his quiet tone was almost lost to the barroom chatter. His accent wasn’t one you’d heard before, a bit sharper and choppier than the accent John had on the phone. He scooted further into the booth, dragging his drink with him. As you turned back and slid into the corner booth, he scrutinized you again, like you were supposed to be familiar to him, "I know you?"

"Doubt it." You smiled, a tight lipped but warm thing. You knew you didn’t know him considering this was the first time you’d set foot in this country. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly remember a character like this. So instead, you offered him your name and an outstretched hand. He nodded, neither returning the exchange or shaking your hand, just grunting to show he heard you.

Still, he scanned you again. Simon was sure he’d never met you, but there was something about you that was eerily familiar. It was the feeling of someone’s name being on the tip of his tongue but slipping between thoughts before he could place it, or a song that as soon as he tried to think about it the melody slipped away. It wasn’t your physical features, as pretty of a bird as you were. That little smile, the way you carried yourself, the saunter in your walk, how your shoulder were held, the set of your jaw, you were young in the face but seemed older, the casual confidence so rare for someone your age… These were all things so familiar to him, but he couldn’t connect it to it’s match. Maybe it was the bourbon.

"Y’not from ‘round here." He stated, and it wasn’t a question. Simon knew it as a fact. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why someone not from here would patronize a piss-poor pub like this, especially a bird like you- pretty and warm and put together. He rose an eyebrow that shifted the brow of his mask, "What brings you?"

Blunt and to the point. Definitely military. You leaned back against the booth, your finger tracing the glass rim of the wine glass you’d set down in front of you. White wine from a shit hole like this was one of the many clues that you didn’t belong here.

"Meeting someone important." You answered vaguely with another one of those warm but tight smiles. Seriously, where did he know that from? "He’s late."

"A date?" He pressed further with eyes that were somehow intense and disinterested at the same time. You couldn’t decide if his bluntness was a military quirk or social dysfunction, or possibly both. Of course he couldn’t know that this was the furthest thing from a date you could be doing tonight, which made you laugh, loudly and suddenly. The noise took Simon off guard, but not for it’s spontaneity or for how bright and beautiful it was , but because it tugged at that feeling a familiarity, bordering on nostalgia.

"Oh, god no." You rushed, shaking your head and forming an X over your chest for good measure, still laughing a bit as you took a sip of wine. Still, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to describe John. "Not a date. I’m just meeting…. someone important."

Simon doesn't know why this pleased him. Something about you being available and talking to him as opposed to the damnably flashy and obnoxious grunts wearing their dress uniforms to the pub on a fuckin’ Tuesday… Simon’s mouth quirked into a subtle smirk as he lifted his mask enough to take a sip of his bourbon, not missing how your too-familiar eyes followed the movement, intrigued and keen, “Who then?"

"Nope, I’ve already answered, like, three questions. Your turn?" There was that casual confidence again as you turned the question on him with that little grin, legs cross under the table as your nails clicked against the sticky wood table, "What brings you here?"

Simon’s expression under the mask soured again, eyes fixing on the lipstick stain on your wine glass. Pretty color… He wondered how it’d look smeared along his mouth. Or his cock. He shook that thought out of his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. Maybe it was the bourbon that loosened his tongue, or maybe those eyes of yours, “Got in a fight with a mate o’ mine. It was… suggested that we give each other some space.”

‘Suggested' was nice was of saying Price manhandled him all the way to the guard station at the gate. Like a scolded dog being put outside.

“So you’ve put yourself in the corner? Are you in timeout?” You quirked an eyebrow in another frustratingly familiar gesture, something that made him chuckle instead of bristle as you gestured to the dark corner he’d been lurking in.

“Something like that.” He nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

“What was the fight about?” You asked casually, taking another sip of your wine. Normally so private, Simon would’ve bitten a stranger’s head off for such a personal question. But coming from you, between his desire to keep your attention on him and the ever present nagging sense of familiarity, he just sighed.

“Hard week pushed some buttons. We’ve both got tempers. Mine’s worse.” He explanation was simple, both from characteristic standoffishness and the fact the mission that had provoked this fight had taken place in a country the British Military was not supposed to be. Another deep sigh like the confession took something wrenching from him, “He puts up with me usually, but I… said somethings’ I shouldn’t’ve.”

You nodded sagely, taking in the rather vague information with eyes settled on the far wall as if you were doing mental math, quiet deductions. He recognized this look from somewhere, this was the look of someone looking for answers and solutions. Your fingers tapped against the table again before your eyes slid back to him, “So you were both assholes to each other, but you were worse?”

“Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Simon scoffed as you boiled down his already barebones explanation even further. You nodded again, looking at him quizzically.

“Have you thought about just apologizing?” You rose an eyebrow at him, your head cocking a little to the side. The most obvious answer in the world that for some reason he couldn’t wrap his hand around. He opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker, voice chiding in way he’d heard before- but from where?, “No, let me guess, it’s not that simple, you can’t just apologize.”

For a moment you dropped your voice a little lower and attmepted a half imitation of his Mancunian accent which would’ve been offensive if it wasn’t exactly what he was about to say. You huffed a quiet lap before returning to your normal tone with a roll of your eyes, “Believe me, yes, it is that simple, and, yes, you can just apologize. And if you truly think it’s not something an apology would fix, let him get one good hit in and get it out of your systems. Problem solved.”

“Get it out of our systems?” Simon asked a little incredulously, despite the sampling of a sharp wit and the occasional hard glint to your eyes, he hadn’t expected someone as soft looking as you to jump to punching as a serious form of conflict resolution. Hell, you sounded more like his Captain Price than some random pretty thing in a pub, “that’s terrible advice.”

“You telling me you would’ve seriously taken my apologize and talk it out advice?” Your eyebrows raised again as you leaned forward on your elbows onto the table- another frustratingly familiar look that would’ve distracted him if your now exposed cleavage didn’t distract him further. He swallowed as he stared, feeling the growing need to get something out of his system, and his fight with Johnny was becoming less and less forefront in his mind.

“Not a chance.” He shook his head, sniper eyes locking in on the drop of wine that escaped your glass and slid between your breasts, quickly disappearing between skin and under your shirt. He could find it with his tongue, bet your skin made the wine sweeter…

“Yeah,” You laughed again, setting down the empty glass, finding this intriguing masked character to be a wonderful distraction from the anxiety of this upcoming meeting. And if John was running late, you’d take advantage of the distraction, “Figured as much.”

___

An hour and another glass of wine later, you’d continued to scoot closer to the masked man in the booth with you. He was first to initiate contact, throwing an arm over your shoulders in the pretense of keeping you close enough to hear over the rowdy group cheering on a rugby game, it was you who had leaned into his side. His hand had found your thigh first, but your nails were tracing little shapes and words against his forearm.

“Who was it you were meetin' 'ere, sweetheart?” Simon asked again, his mask still rolled over his nose again as he took another sip of his bourbon, lips grazing your earring as his breath fanned over your neck. He wondered how you would react if his teeth tugged one of the pretty little earrings you’d picked out. You were distracted noticing how his accent minced certain letters in syllables in a delectable way, “Only a fool’d keep you waitin’ this long.”

Two glasses of wine and jet lag had done away with your need for vague answers as you leaned into him, shivering as the smell of bourbon, cigarettes, and gunpowder started to overpower your perfume. You swallowed, eyes meeting his with a bit of nervousness he hadn’t been able to pick up on you until just now, “I’m meeting my father. We’ve been estranged most of my life. And he’s an hour and forty five late now.”

“Shit.” Simon muttered under his breath, not thinking you could’ve said anything that could really surprise him. Meeting your estranged father and yet you’d spent the last two hours coaching and comforting him through a fight with his friend. That level of self sacrifice should’ve clued him into your parentage almost immediately, but he was busy staring at how your wide eyes were staring up at him through your lashes, teeth toying with the seam of your lips that your tongue kept darting out to wet.

“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted, the nail that was tracing shapes on his forearm dropped down to his massive thigh to brace yourself. If you leaned any closer, you’d be all but in his lap- which wouldn’t be the worse thing, both of you mentally decided. You took a deep breath, sipping some of the water you’d ordered midway through your third glass of wine, "A lot nervous, actually.”

One thing about Simon, was that as a sniper, he was opportunistic. When he saw a shot, he took it. And you just lined him up to test his theory on how long it’d take to convince you to slip into the pub bathrooms with him.

His arm around your shoulder adjusted so he could gently brush some hair behind your ear, thumb purposely grazing your cheekbone before he tilted your face up to meet his, “Well, you know the best way to get over your nerves?”

The sudden closeness stunned any witty retort to silence as you hummed for him to continue, swallowing thickly in a way that brought those keenly sharp eyes to watch the bob of your throat. He chuckled lowly to himself, so sweet and perfect, he was about to absolutely ruin you. But he wasn’t evil, he’d put you back together again…

“Gotta… work... it outta your system. Just like you said, sweetheart.” His other hand was kneading into your thigh through the pretty satin of your skirt, such a good girl, with a skirt below your knees, and he looked forward to shredding those tights underneath with nothing but his teeth and bare hands. But… he wondered if he could make you cum through them before he ruined them, and with the way you tensed and then melted at his touch, he was betting the answer was a firm yes. “Gonna let me help you like you’ve been helping me?”

You thought he sure had a funny way of equating this heavy petting to the teasing and mild comfort you’d offered about his fight with this ‘Soap’ guy, but you nodded anyway. All the pent-up anxiety made it an eager motion as he chuckled, leaning forward and catching your mouth, so possessive and borderline aggressive at your compliance. He was a bit of a bully, using his bulk and his weight so you would bend underneath him like he was testing how hard he had to press for you to break, and when you whined at the feeling of him biting your lip, he only swallowed your sounds and laughed into your mouth.

Lips smearing your pretty makeup, one hand tangling your hair into his finger and the other fisting your skirt so it started hiking up your legs, and one of his boots nudging your ankles out of their polite cross so he could start prying your thighs apart. God, you were making out (bordering on hooking up) with a nameless, masked man with anger issues while you waited to meet your estranged father for basically the first time… What had your life come to?

Actually, the absent father bit explained the masked stranger bit if you thought about it for more than three seconds.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta be taking the absolute piss, Simon.” A sudden and angry voice, familiar to both of you sounded from the front of your secluded little booth. You jumped back away from your paramour. Simon, apparently was his name, while he only turned in frustrated confusion at his captain interrupted him blowing off steam, just as he’d been instructed when Price all but kicked him off base for the night.

Your eyes went wide in absolute mortification, like you’d melt under the table and just die there. Standing there, watching you sloppily make out with someone he apparently knew, was your father. John Price. Who hadn’t seen you since you were three years old and compulsively carried around a Kermit the frog stuffie everywhere you went… He looked older compared to your hazy memories of him and the singular picture your mother hadn’t burned, and the interesting facial hair only made him look older. You suspected he was capable of looking warm and kind, your mother always said you got his soft eyes and smile, but right now he looked pissed.

“Price?” Simon questioned, yanking his mask back over his mouth to hide the smears of his lipstick, wondering if this temper had something to do with the mission or with his fight with the sergeant and if so, why it was urgent enough to interrupt him right now. He’d noted how you went rigid underneath him, batting his hand out of the balmy soft canyon between your spread thighs before they clamped shut again. Shit, that door was rapidly closing...

You spoke at the same time as Simon, your voice somewhere between hesitant questioning and caught teenager, “Dad?”

“Dad?” Simon immediately parroted, his respect for his Captain superseding the whiskey and lust as he peeled himself off of you quickly doing mental math Olympics to figure out genetics and age gaps, “Bloody Hell, John-“

You shrieked, as Simon didn’t get a chance to justify himself or even ask, how was I supposed to know the bird I was trying to fuck was your kid you’ve never told anyone about? Because your father’s face went red instantly, jumping across the booth and landing a scarily hard punch across Simon’s face, spilling wine and whiskey all over you in the process.

So it was going to be a bloody knuckles kind of night, after all.

____

Sorry I kinda changed up your request a little bit, I started writing and it kinda got away from me. I'm a slave to the little worm in my brain.

#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #cod mwii x reader

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sirenpearldust · 5 months ago

Text

Found you 2

Baby Daddy Azriel!

Series masterlist ⋆ Part one ⋆ Part three

Pair: Azriel x Spring Court! Reader

Word count: 3.050

Warning: fluff

Summary: conditions are set

Azriel sat up straighter in his seat, he cleaned up, looked more put together. He wanted to make a better impression on his son than last time. The memory of his terrified face hasn’t left him, it has been haunting his dreams. Just the reminder unsettled him.

A hint of nervousness crept in, what if one misstep meant he wouldn’t be allowed to see his son again?

Meanwhile, you watched him as he sat across from you, dressed in black pants and a blouse that accentuated every defined muscle he had honed through years of training in the illyrian camps.

His piercing hazel eyes wandered intensely as he surveyed the room. Until they locked onto you, sharp and unyielding. His knuckles repeatedly tightened until they turned white before he forced himself to let go. Black massive wings folded tightly against his back, his shadows swirling around him, still inspecting the unfamiliar space.

Instead of his usual cold, detached demeanor, irritation flickered across his features.

That’s a first, you thought.

For once, he wasn’t emotionless.

For once, he was unraveling and it was because of you.

You had to hand it to his genes, you had basically birthed his twin. Amias was the spitting image of him, inheriting the same elegant planes of his face, a beauty that was almost otherworldly. He had his hair, his wings and even his skin tone. The only feature that set him apart were his eyes. Those were yours, a striking reminder of your Spring Court legacy shining through.

You still remembered the sadness, the ache in your chest as you watched your son grow into the features of his father.

The same scowl, the same smile, the same dimples.

It felt like a cruel twist of fate that your son had to look so much like the man who had caused you so much pain.

Sipping your tea, you deliberately avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the view outside. He didn’t deserve an ounce of your attention, not anymore.

You two were here for one reason and one reason only; to discuss Amias. You had to push your feelings aside, no matter how difficult it was.

It hadn’t been part of your plan for Amias to get to know Azriel. He wasn’t supposed to find out about him, he was meant to be raised by you, away from any danger.

Azriel’s presence now posed a threat to your role as a parent and as a noble in Spring. His work was dangerous enough and his ties to the Inner Circle only added more risks. The already volatile situation in Spring was bad enough already. You didn’t need to be accused of treason or colluding with the enemy, you’ve already had enough problems.

“Are you going to sit there silent again and not say anything?” Azriel asked, his shadows darkening around him.

Your lip curled in a faint smile. It was almost amusing, holding something over him, having a semblance of power for once. You might have felt guilty for using your son in this way, but Amias didn’t even know his father, not really, not the way you did.

He had no idea of the darkness and cruelty Azriel was capable of.

“You’re too loud,” you said softly, setting your tea cup down. His wings bristled, and you could tell it had pissed him off.

“I’ll lay the conditions out for you,” you continued, calm and unwavering.

“Be against even one of them and you’ll have no right to see my son.”

“Our son,” Azriel corrected, his jaw tightening as his knuckles turned white again. He knew, he knew you had set traps, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to navigate them.

“He’s my son too, Y/N,” Azriel said, frustration lacing his voice as his hand ran through his hair roughly.

“I only want what’s best for him.”

You ignored him.

Without a glance in his direction, you opened the folder and slid the sheet in front of him, wordlessly demanding his attention to what truly mattered now.

The conditions were clear and non-negotiable. They were there to protect Amias and you.

1. You are not allowed to take Amias without my permission.

2. Wherever you go with him, you must inform me first.

3. He’s my heir and will receive his education in Spring.

4. He will not train in the Illyrian camps unless he is of age and wishes to do so.

5. You will have no authority over me as his mother.

6. You will be a present father unless he chooses not to see you.

7. Your highest priority is to protect him, cherish him and ensure his safety.

8. You will treat him with respect, kindness and love.

9. You will not arrange or force any marriage upon him.

10. You will not harm me, kill me, or order anyone else to do so in order to have Amias.

11. You will not inform your family of his existence without my permission.

12. You will protect Amias before anyone else, this includes you protecting and serving your High Lord or your mate.

13. You will protect what is mine and what is automatically our son’s legacy.

14. In the event of my death, you will safeguard his wealth, inheritance and well-being. No one shall touch it.

15. You will not take Amias out of Spring unless he is in grave danger, or I am dead.

16. If you choose to have any other children, you are to treat them the same as Amias.

17. Any woman you decide to stay in a relationship with and who is to get to know our son, you will introduce to me first.

18. In the case of a mating bond between us, you will not force it upon me and will let it go if I do not want it.

19. You will not disturb my private life, you will treat me with respect and courtesy.

Azriel rubbed his temples, clearly irritated.

Most of the conditions were reasonable, but the restrictions on when and how he could see Amias gnawed at him.

Why did you have to control every aspect? Why did you have to approve when and if he could spend time alone with his son, or when his family could know about his existence?

“Can I introduce him to my family?” Azriel asked, his voice tight with frustration.

“No,” you replied coldly, your gaze unwavering. You hated the Night Court, they were the reason for Spring’s ruin and had caused multiple issues in Prythian across almost every court.

“He has a cousin,” Azriel pressed.

“You and I have no living siblings,” you shot back.

Azriel’s temper flared.

“Rhys has a son.”

“He’s your High Lord,” you responded flatly.

“He’s my brother.”

You sighed rolling your eyes. “Sure.”

“So can he see his cousin?”

“No!”

Azriel groaned in frustration, his patience running thin.

“Will you ever allow any of this to be permissible?”

You shrugged, taking another sip of that damned tea, that Azriel now seemed to take a dislike to.

“You either accept the conditions and make this bargain, or you can say goodbye to the future you’ve imagined,” you said, your voice steady but firm.

Azriel sighed, knowing full well you were serious.

“These conditions are set to protect Amias. He doesn’t know you and I won’t thrust him into your world directly.”

“What about condition 18?” Azriel asked, his voice tight,.

“What about it?” you responded, your gaze unwavering.

“Will you reject it?”

“There is no bond,” you replied, your tone cold.

Azriel’s jaw clenched again, the tension rising in his chest. “If there is one, will you reject it?”

“Most likely.”

His heart twinged painfully and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach, like a bad omen. He hoped he wasn’t your mate because if he was, you would let him suffer. He was sure of it especially after what had happened.

“You know I’ll go insane from a rejected mating bond.”

You hummed in response, uncaring of the worry in his voice.

“Let’s then hope it doesn’t happen,” you said, a sharp smile playing on your lips as you met his eyes.

Azriel’s wings shuddered as the weight of the situation settled in. He didn’t feel good about this, not one bit.

“Fine,” he said, his voice resigned, “I accept all 19 conditions.”

You smiled and extended your hand. He took it without hesitation, his rough, scarred hand engulfing yours. The touch brought a flood of memories, both beautiful and painful.

Azriel couldn’t help but notice the softness of your skin, a stark contrast to the calluses and scars that marked his own.

In that brief moment, you both felt something, an electric jolt, a slight burning sensation. You felt the tattoo spreading under your chest, across your ribs. You were glad that you could hide it, no one had to know about what was happening.

Azriel’s breath caught. He opened his top, revealing the tattoo spreading underneath his pectorals. Tracing the lines with his fingers. You almost choked on your spit. What was he doing?

You quickly turned your face away, not wanting to see the sudden state of undress. It was nothing you hadn’t seen before, nothing you wanted to revisit, either.

In the brief glance you noticed something else, new scars. Some were fresh, still pink against his skin, while others had faded to white, stark against his tan.

“Roses,” Azriel murmured to himself.

“Now that we have a bargain, you can see him.”

You stood up, the white floral dress a stark contrast to Azriel’s dark attire.

Azriel was just a step behind you, he was eager to see his son.

He wanted to teach Amias how to fly, how to fight, to show him the things a father should. He wasn't going to abandon him the way he had been. No, he would be present. He would be the father his son deserved, a steady presence in his life.

For the first time in his life he had hope for a bright future, he wants to build something better, to give Amias a future full of care, love and guidance.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

Amias had been full of questions ever since he first met Azriel. His curiosity was boundless, he would comment on Azriel’s wings, marveling at how similar they were to his own. He spoke of the shadows, how they moved like his did.

Azriel’s shadows mingled with his own, twisting and swirling in a gentle dance and Amias couldn’t help but laugh whenever they played with him. They were soft and cool against his skin.

Azriel’s gaze softened when he heard his giggling. He felt this immense feeling seeing his son’s joy, feeling his happiness, hearing it, being a part of it.

He had come with presents - toys, books, sweets. He bought him books, child stories from the night court, stories of Illyrian legends, a little teddy bear and a bag filled with small cherry candies, you know Azriel enjoyed.

“Amias,” you called softly, lowering yourself to his level with open arms. He ran toward you, his little face lighting up as he kissed you on the cheek. You smiled, warmth flooding your chest as you gave him small kisses back, holding him close for a moment. You breathed him in, he smelled like a baby, you didn’t want him to grow up. He was already bigger than the other children his age.

Azriel watched the scene from a few steps behind, it stirred up memories he had long forgotten, pushed away. It reminded him of his own rare moments of excitement as a child, the joy he’d felt in those fleeting times he was allowed to see his mother, when he was out of the cell.

He observed how animatedly Amias spoke to you, his small hands gesturing wildly as he recounted his latest “battle” with his plushies. Azriel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, he was in awe as he took in the pure, unrestrained joy of your son, their son.

Amias’s eyes wandered up to him. He immediately recognized Azriel, but this time, instead of looking scared like before, he smiled at him.

He was taken aback by his reaction. His eyes immediately searched yours, knowing you had something to do with it, but you ignored him, focused on brushing Amias’s hair.

It had grown long, already reaching his shoulders, he was in need of a new haircut.

Amias slowly slipped from your arms and stood in front of Azriel, his clothes a soft baby blue. His wings pressed tightly against his back and a shadow lingered at his feet. He stood there in awe, his eyes wide and round, smiling and giggling up at Azriel.

Azriel slowly lowered himself to Amias’s level. Even kneeling, his towering figure still loomed larger than both you and Amias. His sheer size stirred something hot inside you, something you’d buried long ago.

“Hello,” Azriel said softly.

Amias took a step back, looking at you for reassurance, as if searching for confirmation.

You smiled brightly, nodding and giving him the encouragement to go ahead. Amias turned toward Azriel again, his hands nervously fiddling. “Are you my daddy?”

Azriel’s breath hitched. There, standing in front of him, was his son, real and alive.

“Yeah, I am.”

Amias took a step toward him, wrapping his small arms around Azriel and pressing his tiny head into his chest, sniffling. You and Azriel watched as Amias’s small hands clung to him. Without hesitation, Azriel held him close as he cried silently, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat on the floor, embracing him tightly, gently caressing his head, whispering apologies for not being there all this time.

That’s how the three of you spent the afternoon into the evening, watching Amias play, him eagerly dragging both of you into his games.

Yet, he was always a little nervous, always turning toward Azriel, as if he feared his father might disappear again.

You both sat on the floor next to each other.

“Thank you,” he said, watching you. Your eyes never leaving Amias.

“For what?”

“For birthing, raising and loving him.”

“He’s my son. That’s a given.”

Azriel searched your eyes and this time, you didn’t look away. His gaze was soft and you hated the vulnerability in it.

“You know how they treat bastards.”

“We’re in spring,” you replied softly, making sure Amias wouldn’t overhear.

“Bastards are a given. What do you think happens after Calanmai?”

He nodded, relieved that his son wouldn’t be ignored or left alone.

“Even if he is Illyrian?”

You laughed softly, a touch of amusement in your voice.

“Yes, even then.”

“They don’t care about that,” you said, your tone steady. “You’d know that if you picked up a book once in a while.”

Azriel winced at the jab, his eyes narrowing slightly. Here he thought you were finally opening up to him, but your words made it clear how you felt about him.

“Spring is inherently open,” you continued, “We accept everyone and everything. That’s why festivals like Calanmai exist and the land prospered with children, happy, healthy children. At least, before Amarantha came and your Lords, or shall I say your “brother” and his runaway whore”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, the urge to retort rising in him. He wanted to tell you that Tamlin had been warned, that he had continued despite it all, but he couldn’t. Your son was here and he shouldn’t witness his parents fighting. But god, the way your eyes burned with hatred whenever you looked at him or spoke about the Night Court, it stung.

“Daddy are you angry?”

Azriel noticed the worry in Amias’s face and immediately smiled, shaking his head. “Just tired.”

“Mama tired too,” Amias added.

You chuckled softly at his cuteness.

You felt Azriels rage just a few seconds ago, you were thankful that he was still good at lying. You only cared about your son, Azriel’s feelings couldn’t interest you in the slightest.

“Amias, full sentences, please.”

“Mama, I am tired too.”

“You wanna go sleep with Daddy?” Azriel asked gently.

Amias nodded, his tiny arms stretching out toward Azriel. In his fathers arms, he stopped you from going to the office, where you usually spent your time.

You looked at him, noticing the expectant look in his eyes. “Can you both come?”

You nodded, glancing at Azriel. “You’ve got time, or do you need to go to work?”

Azriel smirked, scaring you. “I’m on vacation.”

The surprise was evident in your eyes as Azriel caught you off guard for the first time. Before you could respond, he scooped up Amias, who giggled in delight.

“Where is your room, little prince?” Azriel asked, holding his son up in the air with a grin.

Azriel’s smile was radiant and Amias looked so happy, it made your heart swell. Even if the reason behind it all was the sperm donor, the sight of your son so content made everything feel right.

“Let’s go,” Azriel said, his voice warm as he began to walk.

⋆ ♡ ⋆

There you three laid, Amias down in the middle, nestled safely between you both.

Azriel had woken up, his internal clock honed over centuries stirring him from sleep. But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the sight before him felt almost unreal, like a dream he wasn’t ready to wake from.

His son was here and you. There you were, lying beside Amias, your long hair fanned out behind you, arms wrapped protectively around the small boy as he cuddled into you. It was endearing, the way you both slept so peacefully next to him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azriel had slept through the night, no nightmares, no restlessness, just quiet, steady breaths filling the space around him.

His eyelids grew heavy again and he let himself sink back into the warmth of the mattress. Just as he was drifting off, Amias stirred, sleepily turning toward him. Tiny hands reached for him as he snuggled into Azriel’s chest, his breath soft and steady.

Azriel let out a slow breath, wrapping an arm around his son.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he let himself rest again.

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cece693 · 6 months ago

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Oh can I request a Male reader x Kol, Elijah, and Klaus Mikaelson where the Mikaelson's are highly protective of M reader

Mikaelsons Whore

pairing: kol, klaus, and elijah mikaelson x male reader tags: vulgar language, elena being the 'righteous' queen, basically Elena being her whinny self, human male reader, the mikaelson family loves you

Elena was the golden child—the popular girl and Mystic Falls’ most recognized individual. It was all too easy for you to slip into the background and just be labeled as “the other Gilbert.” Your younger brother Jeremy understood how that felt; he maintained a better relationship with you than Elena ever did. Still, even Jeremy couldn’t begin to fathom what drew you to side with the Mikaelsons—or how you managed to fall in love with not one, but three of the brothers, each dangerous in their own way. Ironically, the most feared and powerful family in history had shown you more warmth than anyone else in town. Rebekah, in particular, became the sister figure you had always needed and never truly found in Elena.

When word of your involvement with the Mikaelsons spread through Mystic Falls, the backlash was swift and merciless. Elena made her disapproval painfully clear by storming into your bedroom, practically foaming at the mouth, and demanding to know why you had betrayed her—as though your love life was hers to dictate. The Salvatore brothers, blinded by loyalty to your sister, declared that the Originals must have compelled you, never even pausing to consider that you might be spending time with them of your own free will.

Bonnie’s disapproval came as no shock—she was Elena’s best friend, after all—but Caroline’s reaction stung the most. You had always admired her warmth and optimism, so hearing her spew the word whore cut more deeply than you ever expected. Still, you knew where her bitterness stemmed from: she craved love, and watching yet another potential romance slip through her fingers had turned her despair into anger.

When your lovers—Klaus, Elijah, and Kol—heard about the way the town was talking, their reactions weren’t pretty. Klaus’s protective streak flared; you could feel the rage rolling off of him in waves as he threatened to make everyone in Mystic Falls pay for the insults. Elijah, always calm and composed, simmered with a cold fury that was somehow even more terrifying. And Kol, mischievous and volatile at the best of times, seemed eager to teach your tormentors a lesson about mocking his beloved.

But even if your family and friends had turned against you and spewed hatred, you refused to let your lovers make a scene. You understood their position, but at the end of the day, you naively believed that Elena and your friends would come around and be happy for you. This naivety was a mistake. "I'll be back soon," you murmured, smiling up at Klaus, who was visibly upset about the whole situation. He had proposed that he or one of his brothers accompany you to meet with Elena, but upon your insistence, they had reluctantly agreed to let you handle things alone.

"I'll be just a call away," Klaus conceded, his voice stern, leaving no room for negotiation on that point.

As you turned to leave, Klaus stepped forward and gently lifted your chin, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead—a gesture that spoke volumes of his love and concern. "Be careful," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the swell of emotions.

With one last reassuring nod, you left the safety of the Mikaelson home and headed towards the Mystic Grill. Upon your arrival, Elena greeted you with a serene smile. "I'm glad you came," she said, guiding you to a booth tucked away in the corner. The atmosphere was casual, the familiar buzz of the Grill around you almost comforting. She ordered drinks, and when yours arrived, you didn't think twice before taking a sip, trusting that your sister truly wanted to make amends.

However, as the evening progressed, you began to feel unusually drowsy and disoriented. The lights of the bar grew bothersome, and just as you tried to ask Elena to call Klaus, darkness enveloped you. When you regained consciousness, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, hands and feet bound. The Salvatore brothers and Bonnie were there, their expressions a mix of stern determination and misguided hope.

"We're going to fix this," Damon declared, his tone brooking no argument as he glanced at Bonnie.

Bonnie, her face pinched in concentration, approached with a collection of herbs and crystals. "I'm sorry. This will hurt, but it's for your own good."

Your eyes darted from person to person, hoping that your visible fright might make them reconsider their decision, but no one stepped forward. Elena stood beside Bonnie, murmuring something about getting her brother back, but then pain engulfed you. Thrashing in the chair, the ropes digging into your wrists, you let out screams of agony. You didn't know how much time passed as you screamed, but it was evident you were under no spell. "Klaus! Elijah! Kol!" you began to scream, hoping they would save you from this torment, but relief was slow to come, and you fell unconscious once again.

When you woke again, the surroundings were markedly different from the harsh, dimly lit room of your ordeal. The plush comfort of a familiar bed enveloped you, the soft linens smelling faintly of lavender and sage—an aroma that always soothed your nerves. The opulent room bathed in the gentle light of late afternoon told you that you were back at the Mikaelson mansion. As your eyes adjusted, you saw Klaus, Elijah, and Kol surrounding your bed, their faces etched with concern but visibly relieved to see you awake.

Kol was the first to notice your eyes fluttering open. "He's awake," he announced softly, his usual mischievous tone subdued.

Elijah, ever the composed one, approached with a glass of water, his movements graceful and careful. "How do you feel?" he asked gently as he helped you sit up to sip the water, his hand supporting your back.

Klaus, who had been standing by the window watching you with an intense gaze, came over and sat on the edge of the bed. His hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "You're safe now, back home with us," he murmured, the relief palpable in his voice.

You looked between them, trying to piece together what had happened after your memory cut off. "What…what happened after I passed out?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

The brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was Klaus who spoke, choosing his words with care. "You were in a bad state when we found you. We made sure no one could harm you again," he explained vaguely, not delving into the specifics of their retribution.

Elijah added, "Our priority is your recovery. You've been through a tremendous ordeal." He gently adjusted the bandages on your wrist where the ropes had left marks.

Kol’s expression darkened with the memory of your pain. "Let’s just say they won’t be bothering you—or anyone else—ever again," he added, though his tone was nonchalant, trying to shield you from the violent truths.

You sensed there was more they weren’t telling you, but the exhaustion pulling at your limbs and the comfort of being surrounded by your protectors allowed you to set aside these thoughts for now. Gratitude filled your chest as you looked at each of them, their presence a tangible reminder of their commitment to you. "Thank you," you whispered, feeling overwhelmed and a bit adrift. "For coming for me."

"Always," Klaus responded firmly, his thumb brushing over your hand. "We will always come for you."

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kngrose · 6 months ago

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hii! I love your bully!Sevika headcannons sm

what if she finds reader beaten up and on the brink of death in some long forgotten alley one day?

and reader be like: came to finish me off, huh?

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘! 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀

when someone touches what’s hers

WARNINGS: minor depictions of violence, mentions of abuse, implied power dynamics

from roselí. ᡣ𐭩 : anon this was suuuuch a good idea. i put my own little twist on it.

It’d been a long day.

The usual hussle and bussle of the undercity; dealing with the volatile gang ordeals, organizing shipments of Shimmer, cleaning up after Silco’s blue haired mess, and of course getting into close details with Silco himself.

It’d been a very long day.

She would frequent the brothel in her free time, trying on different bodies everytime she went. It was a good detresser— a quick nut after a long day to really end the night right. If not there, she’d be found at the last drop, sipping slowly on brown liquor while she enjoys a few rounds of poker for a bet.

It helped, it did.

But nothing compared to her little plaything.

She’d make it her mission everyday to track down her favorite little target. Her lips always curled into a smirk at the thought of you— shy, fragile, and oh-so-easy to toy with. Hers to provoke, hers to corner, hers to dominate. It was the best stress reliever.

To finally have something to really sink her teeth into. Something to break slowly over time, all in her control. It felt nice to have control. To finally not be under someone’s wing. It was relieving to take out all that anger, all that sadness, every sadistic urge. It wasn’t anything personal, you’d just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But today was different.

She didn’t feel that satisfaction as she navigates through the usual chaos—shouting vendors, the clatter of machinery, and the occasional muffled scream carried through the maze of alleyways. Sevika strode through it all like a storm given flesh, her mechanical arm glinting in the faint light.

The alley was dark, the harsh glow of Zaun's neon lights flickering erratically, but it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Sevika's chest. Her boots echoed like thunder as she stormed down the narrow path, her anger a palpable force that crackled in the air. She had just gotten word that someone had beat her property to a bloody pulp.

She rounded the corner, her eyes scanning the scene. There, slumped against a dumpster, was her victim— bruised, bloodied, and barely conscious. Sevika's jaw clenched. Her heart, if she had one, seemed to twist in her chest. There was a flash of fury, and it took everything in her to restrain herself. Her fingers flexed, aching to crush the throat of whoever had dared to harm what was hers.

No one was allowed to lay a hand on her prey except for her.

You were crumpled on the ground, lip split, bruises blooming across your delicate skin. Blood trickled from your nose, staining your collar. You flinched as you tried to sit up, only to let out a pained hiss.

She marched toward you, boots echoing ominously in the alley. You peered up, eyes widening in fear as if expecting more punishment. Sevika crouched down in front of you, her jaw clenched so tightly it felt like her teeth might crack.

“Who the hell did this to you?” Sevika snarled, her voice like gravel, rough and dangerous. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, but there was no one in sight. She knelt in front of you, a hand gently— but possessively cupping your chin, lifting your face.

You stammered, trying to form words, but her sharp glare silenced them, “I said, who. Did. This.”

Her mind was a mess of confusion and rage. She wasn't supposed to care—not about you, not about the bloodstains on your clothes or the way your eyes barely fluttered open. But she did. She did, and it was making her sick.

"I-I don't know... They... they came out of nowhere. I didn't mean to... to make them angry..." You wheezed in a breath, “Why… did you come to finish the job?” You said, a little snarkily for someone in your position. Sevika's gaze darkened, lips curling into a snarl. "Why didn't you fight back?" she growled, as if the idea that you hadn't defended yourself was a personal betrayal. Her concern for your well-being was entirely overshadowed by her frustration that you hadn't done enough to prevent this from happening in the first place.

She wiped away the blood on your face with the back of her hand, not bothering to hide her disgust, "God, you're so pathetic," she muttered under her breath. "I told you to stay close, didn't I? This is why I tell you to stay put." She spat.

"You shouldn't have been here," Sevika hissed, her voice dangerously low, filled with venom. "You shouldn't have let anyone hurt you." She ran her thumb over your bruised cheek, but it wasn't the soothing gesture it appeared to be. It was possessive. Violent. "I should be the only one to do this to you."

It was daunting really, her way of thinking. How dare she? Stomping in here like she cared. Like she actually cared about your well being. Her concern was twisted—contorted into something dark, something dangerous. She wasn't concerned about your safety, your pain. She was concerned about how this made her look. How it threatened her claim on you. This was hers. You were hers. Goddamn it this was the only thing—!

Sevika's anger didn't fade. In fact, it boiled hotter now. How dare you go off and get yourself hurt like this? She had always been there to make you feel small, to bring you down to your knees, to remind you who you belonged to. But this?

This was your biggest show of audacity yet.

Sevika dragged you to your feet, her hands firm but rough. She forced you to meet her gaze, her eyes wild with fury. "Don't you ever let someone else touch you again. You hear me?" she spat, her voice thick with a possessiveness that bordered on madness. "You're mine to hurt, mine to break. No one else gets that privilege." She pulled you close, your battered body cradled against her. In that moment, there was no tenderness, only a suffocating, possessive need.

“But don’t worry,” she murmured, cracking her knuckles, “I’ll make sure they never even think about coming near you again.” Her smirk etched its way onto her face, sharper than ever. “But you? You and I still need to have a talk about how you let this happen.”

Without waiting for an answer, Sevika turned, already plotting how to make an example of whoever crossed the line. You sat there trembling and confused— you could only watch her disappear into the shadows, fearfully thinking of what that ‘talk’ would consist of.

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arxiwon · 4 months ago

Text

Bloodstained Devotion | yjw

Pairing: Vampire!Jungwon × Reader

Genre: Angst, Dark Themes, Tragedy, Smut, Supernatural

Warnings: Blood, violence, possessiveness, manipulation, death, toxic dynamics, forced transformation, grief, intense emotions, sadistic tendencies, suggestive content

Synopsis:

You were always drawn to vampires—an obsession, a fantasy, a dream. But you never expected to find yourself caught in the clutches of one. Jungwon was relentless, possessive, and unwilling to let you belong to anyone but him. When his venom seeped into your veins, you resisted—only for Jake, his vampire brother, to intervene, trying to save you.

But salvation never came.

Caught between two warring forces, your body became a battlefield, torn apart by their venom until it could no longer withstand the strain. You died in their arms, leaving behind nothing but silence and devastation.

And Jungwon—who once controlled everything—was left with nothing.

Now, he keeps you in their home, unable to let you go. He prays to a god that won’t answer, watches over a body that will never wake, and exists in a world that no longer has meaning.

Because if you are dead, then so is he.

And he will never let you go.

Jungwon had spent years—decades—perfecting the art of distance. The moment he felt something, he snuffed it out. That was how a vampire survived. How he survived.

But you—God, you—made that impossible.

“Jungwon,” your voice was light, teasing as you swirled the wine in your glass, pretending you didn’t see the way he stiffened. You leaned closer, resting your chin on your palm. “Tell me, do you ever think about turning someone?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

You pouted. “Not even if they begged?”

His fingers tightened around the crystal glass, and he had to remind himself not to shatter it. You were always like this—playing with fire, with him, completely unaware of the way you melted his cold, unfeeling existence into something volatile.

You had no idea how dangerous it was to tempt him.

He exhaled sharply, willing his voice to stay calm. “You shouldn’t romanticize us.”

“But I do,” you mused, taking a slow sip. “I think vampires are beautiful.”

You didn’t notice how his gaze darkened.

Of course, you thought they were beautiful. You wanted to marry one.

He had known about your obsession from the moment you first met, when your eyes sparkled at the mere mention of his kind. He was just another vampire in your eyes—just another fantasy waiting to be fulfilled.

And that was exactly why he had to push you away.

It didn’t matter that he wanted you with a hunger that burned through his veins. It didn’t matter that he dreamt of sinking his fangs into your soft flesh, of hearing his name tumble from your lips in pleasure.

No.

He wouldn’t let himself fall.

So he kept his distance, acted cold, made sure you never got too close. It was better that way.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Until he appeared.

Another vampire.

And you—his sweet, foolish girl—welcomed him with open arms.

Jungwon watched, unseen in the shadows, as the man leaned in close, whispering something that made you laugh. His fingers twitched at his side. Why was he so close?

You looked mesmerized. You always did when it came to vampires, but this time—this time, it wasn’t him who had your attention.

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

He told himself this was good. That this was what he wanted—to see you fall for someone else, to move on, to forget him.

Then why did it feel like a knife twisting in his chest?

The moment the other vampire touched you, fingers grazing your arm, Jungwon saw red.

In an instant, he was there. His grip was firm—almost bruising—as he seized your wrist, yanking you away from the stranger.

“Jungwon—”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was ice, but his touch burned.

The other vampire raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Relax. We were just talking.”

Jungwon ignored him. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching—daring you to say that you wanted to be with someone else.

“Jungwon, let go.” You glared, tugging at your wrist.

His grip only tightened. “No.”

Your breath hitched, and he could hear the rush of your heartbeat—fast, uneven. Not from fear. From him.

A slow smirk curled his lips. “What’s wrong?” he taunted, voice dropping to something lower, more dangerous. “You like vampires, don’t you?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your neck.

“Jungwon—”

“Tell me,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Do you want him? Do you want him to be the one to turn you?”

The other vampire scoffed. “You don’t own her, Jungwon.”

Jungwon turned his head slightly, finally acknowledging him. The air around them shifted—darkened—as his piercing gaze locked onto the man.

“She’s mine.” His voice was low, unwavering.

Something about the way he said it—calm, but laced with unshakable possession—made the other vampire tense. He held Jungwon’s stare for a moment, then exhaled sharply, raising his hands in surrender.

“Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “Have it your way.”

Jungwon barely noticed. His attention was already back on you, the fire in his eyes burning hotter than ever.

“If it’s a vampire you want,” he murmured, voice laced with something possessive, dangerous, devouring, “then I’ll give you one.”

Then he sank his fangs in.

And you moaned.

The second Jungwon’s fangs pierced your skin, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. It wasn’t just the bite—it was the way he held you, his grip possessive, unyielding, like he would never let you go.

Your fingers clenched at his shirt as heat rushed through your veins, an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure twisting deep inside you. It was overwhelming—the pull, the raw need—but you barely had a moment to process it before something else crept into your system.

Something cold.

Something wrong.

Your eyes snapped open. The burn spread like wildfire, crawling under your skin, making your breath hitch in a broken whimper.

No—this wasn’t just a bite. This was—

Your body jolted in his arms as you realized.

Venom.

Jungwon was giving you his venom.

He wasn’t just feeding—he was changing you.

A choked sob left your throat as your nails dug into his chest, desperate to push him away. But he didn’t move. If anything, he pressed closer, like he was savoring every second of your suffering.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps. The pain—the burning—was unbearable. It crawled through your veins, seeping into your bones, threatening to consume you whole.

“Jungwon—” Your voice was weak, breaking apart as you tried to resist. “S-Stop—”

He finally pulled back, fangs sliding from your skin with a slow, deliberate motion. His lips were stained with your blood, dark eyes gleaming as he tilted his head at you.

“Stop?” He licked the crimson off his lips, smirking. “But you wanted this, didn’t you?”

Your entire body shuddered. You wanted vampires—you wanted to be one—but not like this. Not like this.

Your knees buckled, but before you could collapse, Jungwon caught you, arms wrapping around you like chains. His touch was steady, firm, a cruel contrast to the way you trembled in his hold.

“You’re resisting,” he mused, amusement lacing his tone. “How stubborn.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, body writhing against his. “I—I don’t want—”

A sharp tch left his lips. “Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.”

His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Do you know what happens when you fight it?” His voice was soft, deceptively sweet. “It hurts.”

Your breathing hitched.

“You could give in,” he continued, trailing his fingers down your throat, pressing lightly where his fangs had punctured your skin. “Let it take over. Let me take over.”

His touch sent another wave of heat through your body, but you refused to submit.

“Or…” He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “You can keep resisting.” His voice dropped, something sinister curling at the edges. “I’d love to watch you suffer.”

A violent shudder tore through you as the venom pulsed hotter, sinking its claws deeper.

“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dark with cruel delight. “So desperate. So weak.”

You bit your lip, swallowing a pained whimper.

Jungwon chuckled. “Does it burn?”

You refused to answer.

He loved that.

“Good,” he whispered. “I want you to burn.”

His grip tightened, his touch growing rougher as he devoured every trembling breath, every broken sound you made.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so you couldn’t escape his gaze. “To be with a vampire?” His smirk widened. “To belong to one?”

Your vision blurred with pain, but his words sent a different kind of heat through your body—one you despised, one he knew you were trying to ignore.

Jungwon saw it.

He felt it.

And it made him ravenous.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed, lips ghosting over your skin. “I’ll make sure you never want anyone else again.”

Then his mouth was on yours—devouring, claiming, leaving no room for resistance.

And for the first time, you felt yourself start to break.

Jungwon’s kiss was suffocating, all sharp teeth and raw hunger. There was no hesitation—no gentleness. Just ownership.

You whimpered against his mouth, your body trembling from the venom searing through your veins, from the unbearable heat building between you. Every nerve screamed for relief, but there was none.

Only him.

Only this.

Jungwon pulled away, eyes hooded as he took in your ruined state. His lips curled into a lazy smirk.

“You look pathetic.” His voice dripped with amusement, but his grip was anything but playful—tight, possessive, as if he were anchoring you to him.

You gasped for air, body weak from the venom. “J-Jungwon—”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “What was it you said before?” His fingers slid down your cheek, almost gently—then tightened around your throat. “You wanted a vampire, right?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed you closer, his hold unrelenting.

“So fucking desperate to belong to one,” he continued, voice laced with mockery. “Throwing yourself at any bloodsucker who looks your way.”

His nails dug into your skin as his smirk widened.

“Such a bitch for us.”

You shuddered, humiliated heat flooding through you.

Jungwon chuckled darkly. “What? Don’t like hearing the truth?” His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You parade around like you’re innocent, but we both know better, don’t we?”

You clenched your fists, refusing to break under his words.

But Jungwon saw everything.

Every shiver. Every hitch in your breath. Every ounce of arousal betraying you.

“You like this,” he mused, watching you with dark satisfaction. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head weakly. “N-No—”

His sharp laugh cut through the air. “Liar.”

Before you could even process it, his fangs were back on your throat.

Another bite.

Another rush of venom.

You screamed, body convulsing as the burning intensified, flooding your senses, sinking deeper. It was unbearable—too much.

Jungwon groaned against your skin, savoring your suffering.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel so fucking good like this.”

You were shaking uncontrollably now, your body overwhelmed by the venom, by him. You clawed at his shoulders, pushing weakly at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

Instead, he laughed.

“Still fighting?” He pulled back just enough to watch you struggle, his eyes glowing with wicked delight. “So fucking stubborn.”

His thumb traced over your parted lips before pressing inside, forcing you to taste your own blood.

“You really think you have a choice?” he whispered.

You let out a strangled whimper, body burning from the inside out.

Jungwon sighed, as if disappointed. “Pathetic,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I should’ve done this sooner.”

His hand curled around your waist, dragging you against him, his presence completely overwhelming.

“I was so fucking patient,” he muttered, voice laced with frustration. “Watching you run around like a little whore for my kind, pretending I didn’t want to break you.”

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“But now?” A dark chuckle left him. “Now you don’t get to choose anymore.”

His fingers dug into your hips, his fangs grazing your skin again, teasing, threatening.

“You will be mine.”

Then, without warning—

He bit down again.

Another scream tore from your throat as the venom surged through you, stronger this time, relentless.

Jungwon groaned, reveling in your pain, in the way your body trembled against him.

“That’s it,” he cooed, lips brushing against your bloodied skin. “Take it.”

His arms tightened around you, locking you in place as the venom did its work, as it claimed you completely.

“Be a good girl…” His voice was a whisper now, dark and cruel.

“And fucking belong to me.”

Your body was barely holding on. The venom seared through you, clawing at every inch of your being, making you tremble in Jungwon’s grasp. The pain was unbearable, but the worst part?

The way he enjoyed it.

Jungwon groaned against your skin, his grip bruising as he kept you locked against him. His fangs pulsed with hunger, aching to sink deeper, to ruin you completely.

“You feel that?” he murmured, dragging his tongue over your raw bite marks. “That’s my venom taking over.” His fingers curled into your hair, tilting your head back. “You can��t escape it now.”

A strangled sob left your lips. Your body was betraying you—burning, throbbing, melting under his touch despite the agony coursing through your veins.

Jungwon saw it. Felt it. And it made him ravenous.

His lips curled into a dark smirk. “Maybe I should keep going,” he mused, pressing your hips flush against his. “Give you more—until you can’t even breathe without thinking of me.”

You whimpered, but he just laughed.

“Silly little thing,” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

His fangs grazed your skin again, teasing—threatening.

You barely had the strength to push him away.

But then—

CRASH.

Jungwon’s body was ripped away from you, sent flying across the room in a blur of movement. You barely had time to react before another presence stepped between you and the chaos.

A new voice—sharp, furious.

“What the fuck, Jungwon?”

Your head spun as you tried to focus, your vision swimming from the venom, from the loss of Jungwon’s touch. And then—

Jake.

He stood in front of you, his chest heaving, golden eyes burning with rage. His presence was just as overwhelming as Jungwon’s, but where Jungwon was suffocating, Jake was grounding.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon recovered, his body a blur as he stood, eyes blazing.

A growl ripped from his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jungwon’s voice was low, deadly.

Jake scoffed. “Stopping you before you fucking kill her.”

Jungwon’s expression darkened. “She’s mine.”

Jake’s jaw clenched. “She’s not a fucking possession, Jungwon.”

Jungwon wiped the blood from his lips, his smirk returning—cold, dangerous. “Then why does she let me do whatever I want to her?”

Your breath hitched.

Jake stiffened. His fists clenched.

Jungwon tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenge. “You jealous, brother?”

Jake didn’t answer. He just moved—fast, striking before Jungwon could react.

The next second, the room exploded into chaos.

Fangs. Claws. A blur of violent motion as the two vampires collided.

You could only watch, helpless, as Jungwon and Jake tore into each other—rage, possessiveness, and years of tension igniting into an all-out war.

And you?

You were still burning.

Still his.

Even now.

Even as the fight raged on.

Your body ached for him.

And Jungwon knew it.

Jake’s grip on you was firm, his hold meant to be protective, grounding. But it wasn’t working.

Because the second Jungwon was ripped away from you, your body screamed.

The burn in your veins worsened, twisting, writhing beneath your skin, demanding relief. Your breathing hitched, nails digging into Jake’s shirt as your body shook.

“No—” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. “No, no, no—”

Jake cursed under his breath. “Shit—just hold on, I got you.”

But you couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t him you needed.

It was Jungwon.

Your body craved him, every cell screaming for his venom, for his touch, for the only thing that could soothe the unbearable fire raging inside you.

And Jungwon—

Jungwon saw.

A low chuckle filled the room, dark and satisfied.

You barely managed to lift your head, but when you did, you saw him—standing there, watching, amused.

Jungwon wiped the blood from his lip, tilting his head as he took in your trembling form. His smirk was cruel, eyes gleaming with sick pleasure.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He clicked his tongue, stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”

You whimpered, body convulsing as another wave of heat crashed through you.

Jungwon’s smirk widened. “You miss me already?”

Jake tightened his grip on you, his expression pissed. “Shut the fuck up.”

But Jungwon laughed.

Laughed because he knew.

Knew that no matter how hard Jake tried, no matter how tightly he held you—it wouldn’t matter.

Because you weren’t his to save.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Jungwon took another step closer, watching as your body reacted to him, your breath quickening, your fingers trembling. “That ache?”

Your eyes squeezed shut.

“You thought you could fight it.” His voice was laced with mockery. “That you could resist me.”

You hated him.

You hated the way your body betrayed you.

You hated that he was right.

But worst of all?

You needed him.

A sob left your lips as the fire in your veins tightened, unbearable, consuming—

Jungwon sighed, shaking his head. “Poor thing,” he murmured. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

His lips curled into a smirk.

“You should’ve let me finish.”

A growl erupted from Jake’s throat. “Shut up!”

In a blur, Jake moved—lunging at Jungwon, fangs bared, fury burning in his golden eyes.

Jungwon met him halfway, his smirk never faltering.

The room erupted into chaos again.

Fangs. Claws. Snarls ripping through the air as they clashed.

But you?

You could barely focus.

Because all you could feel was him.

Even as they fought.

Even as Jake tried to save you.

Your body only wanted Jungwon.

And you hated it.

The fight was brutal.

Jake had the upper hand now—his strikes precise, fueled by rage. Jungwon, for all his arrogance, was beginning to falter. His movements slowed, his smirk cracking, blood staining the corners of his mouth.

Then—Jake struck.

A sharp, devastating blow to Jungwon’s ribs. A sickening crack filled the air.

Jungwon staggered.

For the first time, his expression shifted.

Not fear—no, never fear.

But surprise.

Jake exhaled heavily, eyes burning. “Stay the fuck down,” he growled.

Jungwon wiped his mouth, staring at the blood on his fingers. Then, despite everything—despite his injuries, despite his weakening state—

He grinned.

Jake scowled. “What the fuck is so funny?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered behind him.

Jake barely had time to react before—

You moved.

In an instant, your body launched forward, instincts overriding all reason.

Faster than you’d ever moved before.

Stronger than you’d ever been before.

And the moment you touched Jake—

A sickening crash echoed through the room.

Jake’s body was sent flying.

Through walls. Through stone.

Until his body collided with the ground, bones snapping under the impact.

Silence.

You stood there, panting, trembling, your hands still outstretched, your body humming with unfamiliar power.

Jake groaned in agony, his limbs twisted unnaturally, his body needing time to heal, to recover.

You had done that.

You.

Your breath came in shallow gasps, realization hitting like a tidal wave.

But before you could process it—before you could understand—

Arms wrapped around you from behind.

A familiar presence.

A voice, dark and thrilled.

Jungwon.

His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm.

“My, my,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you.”

His arms tightened, his grip unrelenting.

“You finally understand, don’t you?” His smirk pressed against your skin.

“You were always meant to be mine.”

You trembled.

Because he was right.

And there was no going back now.

Your chest heaved, panic settling in as you stared at Jake’s crumpled form. He was barely moving, his bones shattered, his face twisted in pain.

And you—you had done that.

The reality of it hit like a dagger to the gut.

You turned, frantic, trying to step toward him—but before you could, Jungwon’s grip tightened.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, smooth—but dangerous.

Your breath hitched. “Jungwon, let go—I need to—”

His fingers curled around your throat, stopping you mid-sentence.

“You need to what?” he murmured, tilting his head. “Save him?”

Your hands grasped at his wrist, desperate. “Please,” you choked out.

Jungwon’s eyes darkened.

“You think you can just turn your back on me?” His tone sharpened, venomous. “After everything I’ve done to make you mine?”

You struggled, but your body—your traitorous body—felt weak under his hold.

His influence was everywhere, consuming, inescapable.

“You belong to me now,” Jungwon whispered against your lips, his breath teasing, intoxicating. “And if you try to fight that…”

He squeezed.

A sharp pulse of pain shot through your body, like fire searing through your veins.

Your legs gave out.

You barely managed a gasp before you collapsed against him, your body trembling violently, wracked with agony.

Jungwon caught you effortlessly, shushing you like a lover soothing his prey.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he cooed. “That’s what happens when you disobey me.”

Tears pricked at your eyes.

He leaned closer, lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re under my control now, sweetheart.” His tone was mocking, satisfied. “If I tell you to stay, you stay.”

You whimpered, gripping onto him for stability, hating how your body yielded to him.

Jungwon smirked, dragging his fingers along your jaw. “Good girl.”

A low groan echoed from behind you.

Jake.

You barely had time to process before the temperature in the room shifted.

A snarl ripped through the air.

Jungwon barely flinched before a force slammed into him, sending him crashing against the wall.

Jake stood there, his body still battered, his bones still healing—but his fury was unstoppable.

His golden eyes burned with rage.

“You,” he seethed, voice shaking with barely contained violence. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Jungwon wiped the blood from his mouth, then—grinned.

“Oh?” He cocked his head, amusement flickering in his gaze.

Jake bared his fangs.

“Get ready to fucking die, Jungwon.”

The fight escalated in a blur of claws and fangs, the room shaking with every impact.

Jake wasn’t holding back anymore.

His strikes were fueled by something deeper than rage—something desperate, primal.

Jungwon was strong, but Jake’s fury made him relentless. Each blow sent Jungwon staggering, blood splattering across the cracked stone floor.

For the first time, Jungwon wasn’t smiling.

You lay on the ground, your body still trembling from his command, barely able to move.

And Jake—he saw it.

That was his breaking point.

With one final strike, Jake slammed Jungwon to the ground, pinning him down. His fangs dripped with venom, his chest heaving.

“Stay down,” he growled.

Jungwon wiped blood from his lips, eyes flickering to you—weak, struggling, still under his control.

And then—Jake moved.

Before Jungwon could react, before you could react, Jake was kneeling beside you, his fingers brushing against your face.

“Shit—stay with me,” he murmured, his voice tight with urgency.

You tried to speak, but your throat burned.

Jake’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Then, before you could stop him—before you could even think—

His fangs sank into your neck.

The pain was instant.

White-hot, searing through your veins, colliding with the venom Jungwon had already left inside you.

You screamed.

Your body arched off the ground, convulsing under the collision of two different poisons.

Jungwon’s venom had already claimed you.

But now Jake was forcing his own into you.

Jungwon snapped.

A feral growl ripped through the air, his body lunging forward with pure, unrestrained fury.

The second Jake pulled away from your neck, Jungwon collided with him, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Jungwon’s fingers wrapped around Jake’s throat, his pupils blown wide with rage.

“You fucking—” His voice was dark, trembling with something violent, something dangerous.

Jake coughed, blood trailing from his lips—but his smirk was defiant.

“What’s wrong?” he rasped, voice mocking. “Jealous?”

Jungwon snarled.

Then—he squeezed.

Jake gasped, his body jerking under Jungwon’s grip.

But Jungwon wasn’t looking at him anymore.

He was looking at you.

Watching as your body writhed, your breaths uneven, your hands clutching at your chest—fighting the war inside you.

His claim.

Jake’s claim.

Two venoms battling for control.

Jungwon’s grip on Jake tightened.

“Oh, you’re gonna fucking pay for this.”

Your body convulsed violently, the war raging inside you—Jungwon’s venom, Jake’s venom, tearing you apart.

You couldn’t breathe.

Your heart pounded erratically, your vision blurred, every nerve screaming in agony.

It was too much.

Too much.

And then—

Nothing.

The pain stopped.

The fire dimmed.

Your body went still.

Jake’s smirk faded. His expression twisted into something horrified, something that shouldn’t be possible.

“…No.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Jungwon let go of him immediately, eyes locked onto you.

He waited.

Waited for your chest to rise.

For a single breath.

For a twitch of your fingers.

Anything.

But—

Nothing.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Jake’s hands shook. He reached forward, pressing two fingers against your pulse point.

He froze.

Jungwon saw.

And something inside him snapped.

The next second, Jake was on the ground, screaming.

Jungwon was on top of him, his fists raining down like a storm, fueled by something beyond rage—something inhuman.

Jake barely had time to react.

A sickening crack echoed through the room as Jungwon shattered his ribs.

Another blow.

And another.

Jake’s body spasmed under the brutal force, blood splattering across the floor.

Jungwon didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

His breaths were ragged, his fangs bared, his nails digging into Jake’s flesh.

“You.” His voice was wrecked, raw.

Another punch.

Crack.

“You killed her.”

Another punch.

Snap.

“You fucking—killed her.”

Jake gasped, blood dripping from his lips, but he didn’t fight back anymore.

Because there was nothing he could say.

Jungwon kept going.

Because if he stopped—if he stopped, he’d have to accept it.

Accept that you were gone.

And that?

That wasn’t an option.

The air was thick with the scent of blood.

Jungwon’s fists were stained red, his breathing ragged, his eyes—feral.

Jake’s body was barely moving now.

Jungwon had broken everything.

And he still wasn’t done.

But then—

A gust of wind.

A sudden shift in the room’s energy.

And then—voices.

“Jungwon, stop.”

A blur of movement.

Hands grabbing at him, forcing him back.

Sunghoon. Jay. Ni-ki.

More voices—more anger.

“Jungwon, that’s enough!”

But he didn’t stop.

He fought.

A snarl ripped through his throat as he threw them off, his strength fueled by something inhuman.

His body was on autopilot, every fiber of his being screaming to kill.

To destroy.

Because you—you—were gone.

And someone had to pay for it.

But then—

A commanding presence filled the room.

And everything shifted.

A hand grabbed Jungwon by the throat—stronger, faster than even he could react to.

His body froze.

Heeseung.

The oldest. The strongest.

And the only one who could stop him.

Jungwon’s wild, bloodstained gaze locked onto his brother’s.

“Sleep.”

Heeseung’s voice was deep, final—laced with a power that left no room for resistance.

Jungwon’s body stiffened.

His rage fought against it—his instincts rebelled.

But Heeseung’s command was absolute.

Jungwon’s breath hitched.

His vision blurred.

And then—

Darkness.

His body collapsed.

His mind was forced into oblivion.

And for the first time since you died—

Jungwon was silent.

Jungwon’s eyes snapped open.

For a split second, there was nothing.

Just the weight of exhaustion pressing against his body. The dull ache of a forced sleep. The haze of unconsciousness.

And then—

It all came rushing back.

Your face.

Your screams.

Your body—still, unmoving.

Gone.

Jungwon sat up so fast it made his vision spin.

The room was dark, the only source of light coming from the faint glow of the candles lining the stone walls.

And he wasn’t alone.

All of them were there.

His brothers.

Sunghoon, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, watching him with unreadable eyes.

Jay and Ni-ki, tense, silent.

Jake—bruised, broken, alive.

Jungwon’s blood ran cold.

Jake was alive.

But you weren’t.

Something snapped.

Before anyone could react, Jungwon lunged.

Jake barely had time to move before Jungwon’s hand was at his throat, slamming him back against the wall with enough force to crack stone.

“You killed her,” Jungwon snarled, voice low, shaking with fury.

Jake’s jaw clenched. “I was trying to save her.”

Jungwon’s grip tightened.

“You LIED,” he hissed. “You poisoned her, and now she’s—” His voice broke, rage bleeding into something raw, something unbearable. “She’s gone because of you.”

Jake gasped, fingers clawing at Jungwon’s hand, but Jungwon didn’t care.

Didn’t care if he crushed Jake’s windpipe, if he shattered every bone in his body.

Because none of it would bring you back.

“Jungwon—stop.”

Heeseung’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

Jungwon barely acknowledged him.

He didn’t want to stop.

Didn’t need to stop.

But before he could squeeze any harder, a force yanked him backward, shoving him away from Jake.

Jungwon stumbled, vision red, his instincts screaming at him to kill.

He turned, fangs bared—

And met Heeseung’s gaze.

The air turned heavy.

Heeseung was calm, but his presence was overpowering.

“This isn’t how we fix it,” Heeseung said, voice firm.

Jungwon laughed.

A hollow, bitter sound.

“Fix it?” His voice cracked. “She’s dead, Heeseung. There’s nothing to fix.”

Silence.

No one had an answer to that.

Jungwon’s fists clenched, his entire body trembling with anger, with grief, with something uncontrollable.

Jake’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Jungwon’s eyes flashed.

“You don’t get to fucking say that.”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We are not doing this. Not now.” His tone sharpened, a warning woven into every syllable.

Jungwon’s chest heaved.

His brothers were watching him—waiting.

But none of them understood.

None of them felt it.

The gaping void inside him.

The unbearable silence where your presence used to be.

Heeseung placed a hand on his shoulder, voice softer this time.

“I know what she meant to you.”

Jungwon flinched.

Heeseung continued.

“And I know this isn’t something you can come back from easily.” He exhaled slowly. “But we are not enemies.”

Jungwon was shaking.

His mind screamed at him to lash out, to keep fighting, to hurt someone—anyone.

Because maybe, if he broke something else, it would hurt less.

But Heeseung’s grip was steady.

And Jungwon, for the first time, didn’t fight it.

Didn’t have the strength to.

His hands slowly fell to his sides.

His breath came out ragged.

The rage was still there. The grief was still choking him.

But for now—

For now, he stopped.

The house was silent.

Too silent.

Jungwon sat in the dimly lit room, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze locked onto you.

You were still there.

Still beautiful.

Still his.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t look at him the way you used to.

The others wanted to take you away.

Wanted to bury you.

But Jungwon refused.

He fought.

Snarled.

Made it clear that if they tried to take you from him, he’d kill them himself.

So they let him keep you.

Let him keep your body inside the house, in a cold, untouched room.

A room only he could enter.

And now, every night, he sat by your side.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Praying.

But you never came back.

You never woke up.

And Jungwon?

Jungwon felt dead too.

His brothers avoided talking about it.

Heeseung would check in sometimes, standing at the door, watching him with an expression that Jungwon didn’t want to acknowledge.

Sunghoon would sigh whenever he passed by, muttering that Jungwon was losing himself.

Jay told him it wasn’t healthy.

Ni-ki stopped talking to him altogether.

And Jake—

Jake never came near the room.

Jungwon didn’t care.

Because none of them understood.

None of them knew what it was like to have something so precious—so irreplaceable—just ripped away.

None of them knew what it was like to sit in an empty room and talk to someone who would never answer back.

Jungwon exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against yours.

Cold.

Still cold.

Still lifeless.

His throat tightened.

“I’m still here,” he whispered, voice raw.

The candle beside him flickered.

Jungwon bowed his head, closing his eyes.

Waiting.

For a sign.

For anything.

For you.

But the only answer was silence.

And it was killing him.

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curiousquill1 · 1 month ago

Text

How a Certified Financial Planner Navigates Volatility Using Tax-Saving SIP Plans

Market dips. Global tensions. Economic uncertainty. It’s easy to feel like every investment decision is a leap into the unknown. When the ground shifts beneath your financial goals, stability doesn’t come from guesswork — it comes from strategy. This is where a certified financial planner quietly becomes the unsung hero of wealth protection.

Why SIPs Make Sense During Volatility

There’s a reason systematic investment plans continue to be a go-to tool — especially those with tax-saving benefits. But most portfolios miss the mark because they’re driven by reaction, not design. Here’s the truth: not all SIPs are created equal, and without deep financial planning and analysis, what seems like a smart investment can quickly become a misstep.

Design vs. Instinct: A Tale of Two Investors

The Power of Guided Planning

Picture this: two individuals invest the same monthly amount in a tax-saving SIP. One chooses funds based on hearsay. The other works with a certified financial planner who aligns the SIP with long-term goals, risk appetite, and evolving market conditions. Over time, the second portfolio doesn’t just grow — it performs with resilience, even during market dips.

Interpreting Returns Beyond the Numbers

More Than Just Charts and Graphs

Why does that happen? Because understanding systematic investment plan returns isn’t just about numbers on a chart. It’s about interpreting those numbers in the context of life — career changes, family needs, tax implications, even mental peace during downturns. It’s like using GPS versus driving blindfolded through a storm.

What a Certified Financial Planner Really Does

The Doctor for Your Financial Health

A certified financial planner doesn’t just pick funds — they diagnose your financial health like a seasoned physician. They perform detailed financial planning and analysis to stress-test your investments against worst-case scenarios. They account for inflation, interest rate cycles, and legislative changes in taxation. And most importantly, they create a buffer — a strategy that bends but doesn’t break.

Understanding the Dual Edge of Tax-Saving SIPs

ELSS and Section 80C: The Combo That Matters

Tax-saving SIPs, particularly those under ELSS (Equity Linked Savings Scheme), offer a dual benefit — potential market returns and Section 80C tax deductions. But the catch? Lock-in periods, fund volatility, and shifting fund manager styles make them tricky. That’s why matching the right SIP to the right person isn’t luck. It’s planning.

Common Pitfalls for the Unguided Investor

Still, many investors rely on outdated advice or peer recommendations. Without guidance, they miscalculate systematic investment plan returns or jump between funds at the worst possible time.

When Complexity Becomes Clarity

There’s no shame in admitting it — money management can be overwhelming. But it doesn’t have to be. With a certified financial planner in your corner, complexity becomes clarity. The noise of daily market movement fades, and what’s left is a quiet confidence that your plan is working — even when the world feels like it isn’t.

Conclusion

When the stakes are high, guesswork fails. Tax-saving SIPs can be powerful tools, but only when used with insight and intent. A certified financial planner brings more than credentials — they bring foresight. They interpret systematic investment plan returns in the context of real life and apply financial planning and analysis that truly protects what matters. In an uncertain world, that kind of certainty is worth investing in.

FAQs

1. Can I manage my SIP investments without a certified financial planner?

Yes, but expect a steeper learning curve and higher risk of misalignment with your actual financial goals.

2. How often should SIP performance be reviewed?

At least annually — more frequently during volatile market periods or life changes.

3. Are tax-saving SIPs better than traditional SIPs?

They offer tax benefits but come with a lock-in period. Suitability depends on your income and long-term strategy.

0 notes

donatellawritings · 1 year ago

Note

would rafe ever actually hurt the reader or does he always say empty promises when he’s upset? would you write that? love your work xx

ugh so basically, this is the first and only time that rafe and sweetheart actually break up :(

there was only one instance where rafe had hurt you — and it was one of, if not, the only regret that will continue to haunt him, whenever you shed even a single tear. it was pretty early on in your relationship, he was still struggling to navigate how to handle someone as pure as you, while you were still finding your footing when it came to having such a volatile lover in rafe cameron. you’d been warned by your cousin, kiara — she was firm in maintaining her stance on being against you and rafe being in a relationship … you were her family, you had a heart of genuine gold, while rafe only displayed the facade of being a blood and money hungry man with incessant skeletons in his closet.

“don’t fuckin’ walk away from me, when i’m talkin’ to you,” rafe shouted, hot on your trail as you tearfully made your way into your shared bedroom. mascara-stained tears painted your once blushed cheeks with dark and watery streaks, your lip poked out in a wobbly pout as you turned to face your angered boyfriend, “of course, the baby is fuckin’ crying — i should be the one that’s fuckin’ crying after the way you walked around like a dumb slut,” he scoffed, completely unfazed by your genuine tears of sorrowful frustration. now focusing your gaze at your kitten-heel clad feet, your shoulders slumped as a choked out sob sipped from between your swollen lips.

rafe was completely coked-out, blaming his over-indulgence on the fact that it had been months since he’d been able to enjoy a night out. his usually cold, yet enticing bright blue glaze was taken over by blown pupils and bloodshot eyes that stared at you with nothing, but disdain, “y’fuckin’ look at me when i’m talking to you,” he spoke lowly, a squeaky yelp coming out of you as he gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to make direct eye contact with him. your hand gently held onto his wrist, fat tears cascading down your waterline as rafe painfully pinched your cheeks together, “i want you to get the fuck out of my house — y’wanna fuckin’ talk to other guys while m’making us money? then fucking leave,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing your face away as you let out a throaty cry.

that was far from the case — rafe had simply caught you making conversation with some random kook who’d failed to take the hint that not only you were uninterested, but you were rafe’s girl. but, rafe was too far gone to see anything aside from what his intoxicated mind wrongfully conjured up.

with a heaving chest, you let out a cry as you reached to grab rafe’s arm, “no, papi, i don’t want to go — please ju-just listen to me,” the second your hand touched rafe’s flexed arm, your head whipped to the side as rafe’s ring-clad hand slapped you right across your pretty face. your cheek pulsed with an aching sting as you blinked, your swollen lips parted in disbelief.

the sharp sound of rafe’s hand connecting with your face instantly caused your boyfriend to sober up, just enough for his eyes to widen in realization as he immediately approached you, “fuck, baby i didn’t mean to fuckin’—” he began, reaching an arm out to pull you into his chest, his heart sinking to his stomach as you backed away from him, bone-chilling cries leaving your mouth as you made a run for the bedroom door. “no-no, mama, please just fuckin’ listen!” he shouted, his arms successfully wrapping around you from behind as he pulled you flush against his tense chest.

“i fucking hate you, let me go!” you screamed, kicking your heeled feet as rafe tightened his hold on you, your eyes burning with reddening tears as you let out a choked sob. your cheek still pulsed as you began to sink to the floor, rafe lowering himself with his arms secured around you as you weakly clawed at his strained forearms, “please, i just want to go home,” you squeaked out, rafe’s eyes glazing over — this was supposed to be your home. you’d given up on kicking at the floor and scratching rafe’s arms, your heaving cries making you a bit sleepy as rafe wordlessly held you against him, waiting until you were calm, before he’d speak again.

tears silently rolled down rafe’s structured face as he hopelessly clung to you. you had every right to hate him and he accepted that, but the possibility of you leaving him for good was really starting to bite at him. with a shaky sigh, rafe leaned his forehead against your shoulder, “baby, pl-please let’s just, let’s just go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice wobbly as he swallowed down a pathetic cry. you remained quiet as you stared at the hardwood floor that had been scuffed by your heels, your doe eyes puffy and red from all of the crying you’d done, your eyelids heavy. “m’so fuckin’ sorry,” rafe cried, feverishly pressing his lips into the back of your shoulder, over and over again, his wet eyelashes now prominent against your exposed skin.

you were completely numb, once rafe slowly rose to his feet, keeping you in his arms as he carefully removed your clothes, replacing them with one of his t-shirts, tears rolling down his face as you remained limp, your eyes blank of any recognizable emotion as you refused to look directly into his eyes. you didn’t even move when rafe softly cradled the back of your head, pressing a kiss into your forehead as you simply blinked, your wispy lashes clumped together from your warm tears. carefully leading you to your shared bed, rafe remained fully clothed in his button-up and slacks, silently thankful that you were able to fall asleep with your bruised cheek finding comfort against his cheek. he couldn’t find it in himself to sleep, once he was completely sober and of a sound mind, rafe knew that he’d completely fucked up.

this wasn’t supposed to happen, not with you. he was supposed to be different, he was supposed to be a man of dignity, yet here he was slipping into his old ways.

so, rafe was awake when you finally woke up, his heart beating just a bit quicker as you raised your head from his chest, your cheekbone a light reddish-purple shade. it wasn’t until your exhausted and strained eyes met his, that rafe wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and beg you for your forgiveness. but, he knew he’d be selfish to expect you to forgive him, only mere hours since he’d put his hands on you. biting back tears, rafe stood from the bed, “i want to take you somewhere, baby — y’don’t have to change your clothes, just come with me to the car, yeah?” rafe held out his hand, a slight warmth fluttering in his chest as you lightly held onto his hand with a small nod.

౨ৎ

rafe was thankful that you’d fallen asleep, about five minutes into the drive. he’d been wracking over his mistake over and over again, to the point where he couldn’t even bring himself to turn the car around and drive back home with you. slowly bringing the car to a stop, rafe gently parked the car, running a hand over his shaven face with a low and shaky sigh. his tired eyes looked over your peaceful state, your puffy lips slight parted as you fell into a deep sleep. rafe’s heart ached as he gently laid a hand on your thigh, lightly nudging you out of your sleep, a sad and knowing smile tugging on his lips as you opened your eyes.

“rafe, why are we here?” you asked, your voice raspy and hoarse as your eyes glazed.

rafe had driven you home.

unbuckling his seatbelt, rafe shifted to give you his full attention, his hand bringing yours to his lips as you looked at him with tearful eyes, “i want you to listen to me, a’ight? i need to be a better man for you,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before swallowing thickly as you held in a cry, “m’gonna get my shit together, princess—” he continued, watching as you furiously shook your head. you were stubborn, but this was the one time where he needed you to listen to him.

“no, i wanna be with you — i don’t hate you, i—” you panicked, tears streaming down your face as you softly pulled your hand away from rafe’s, using both of your small hands to cover your face.

“m’gonna come and get you when i get better, okay mama? but right now, you need to go home, a’ight?” he sighed, keeping his eyes focused on the steering wheel. if he even looked at you for a second, he knew that he’d be back on the road, with you in the passenger seat, riding off into the sunset.

sniffling back a sob, you glanced at your boyfriend through cloudy eyes, “you’re breaking my heart, papi,” you cried, your puffy lips now dry as you licked over them. you wanted so bad to crawl into his lap and fall asleep, forget this all happened. unfortunately, rafe had already made up his mind.

“baby, please go home, this isn’t easy for me,” rafe spoke sternly, maintaining his gaze on the steering wheel, tears burning at his waterline as you nodded weakly, before stepping out of the car, gently closing the passenger door as you walked towards your house.

neither you nor rafe had the strength to look at each other as you made your way into your house, leaving rafe a tearful mess as he aimlessly made his way back on the road. every few minutes, he’d glance at the passenger seat, hoping that you’d magically appear next to him and be your usually smiley self, but he knew that couldn’t happen, not for a while.

rafe meant it when he said that he’d come get you, once he got better and he looked to make good on that promise. you were his sweet girl and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself, if he managed to lose you for good. he just hoped that you’d still love him, when he returned.

#anon #asks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #obx #sweetheart!reader

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2b4st4r · 1 month ago

Text

Decayed

Kid x reader, law x reader, luffy x reader.

Words: 13,311 ( actual story)

789 (luffys part)

657(kids part)

966(laws part)

Warnings: graphic violence, mention of decay/ aging,strong language, theme of isolation/being a burden.

P.s. THERE ARE MULTIPLE ENDINGS..

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The air in the dimly lit corner of the Wano tavern hung thick with the mingled scents of cheap sake and grilled meat. Outside, the perpetual twilight of Onigashima cast long, distorted shadows, but within the rough-hewn walls, a different kind of unease simmered. You sat there, a figure both captivating and subtly unsettling, perched on a stool as if it were a fragile thing. Your presence was a quiet storm, a stillness that hinted at unimaginable power lurking beneath a deceptively calm surface.

Whispers followed you like the smoke from a poorly rolled cigarette. Some spoke of impossible feats, of mountains crumbling at a mere glance, of storms bowing before your will. The most daring rumors even dared to compare your strength to that of the seemingly invincible Kaido, the Beast King himself. They called you many names – the Shrouded Calamity, the Silent Doom – each syllable laced with a mixture of awe and terror.

You took a slow sip of your drink, the ceramic cup feeling strangely vibrant beneath your fingertips. The Fushi Fushi no Mi, the Decay-Decay Fruit, pulsed faintly within you, a constant reminder of the terrifying power you wielded. A single, careless touch could turn the sturdy wood of the counter to dust, the vibrant life of a nearby flower to brittle ash. It was a power that demanded constant vigilance, a silent burden you carried with an almost serene grace. Tonight, however, the usual guarded stillness in your eyes held a flicker of something else – a hint of curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest stirring of anticipation in this land ruled by beasts and shadowed by secrets. The night was young, and in Wano, anything could happen.

The tavern door crashed inward with a boisterous bang, splintering the relative quiet like a dropped sake bottle. A wave of raucous laughter and clanking metal washed over the room as the Heart Pirates, the Kid Pirates, and the Straw Hat Pirates spilled inside. It was a chaotic symphony of boisterous greetings and playful shoves, a stark contrast to the hushed atmosphere that had clung to the tavern moments before.

The ordinary patrons, those seeking a quiet drink and a brief respite from Wano's oppressive reality, exchanged nervous glances. Within minutes, a small exodus began, the scraping of chairs and hurried footsteps fading into the night. They were wise to leave. The air now crackled with a different kind of energy, the volatile mix of three notorious pirate crews under one roof.

Yet, amidst the departing crowd, you remained. Unflinching, you continued to sip your drink, your gaze steady. The boisterous pirates barely registered you, their attention consumed by their own reunion. A few other long-time residents of Onigashima’s underbelly, individuals hardened by years of living in the shadow of Kaido, also stayed put, unfazed by the sudden influx of chaos. They had seen worse.

The Straw Hats, led by their ever-energetic captain, Monkey D. Luffy, were a whirlwind of motion. Roronoa Zoro, his three swords prominent, leaned against a pillar, a perpetual scowl etched on his face. The navigator, Nami, her sharp eyes scanning the room, seemed to be calculating the potential for trouble – or profit.

Nearby, the Kid Pirates exuded a more menacing aura. Captain Eustass Kid, his metallic arm gleaming in the dim light, surveyed the tavern with a predatory gaze, his first mate Killer a silent, watchful presence beside him.

Across the room, the Heart Pirates, with the stoic Trafalgar Law at their helm, moved with a more controlled purpose. Law’s keen eyes, however, flickered across the remaining patrons, a brief pause lingering on your still form before he turned his attention back to his crew.

The tavern, once a place of quiet anonymity, had become a stage set for a potential collision of forces. And you, the rumored enigma, the one whispered to rival even a Yonko, sat calmly in the eye of the gathering storm, an unreadable expression on your face. The night had just begun.

The boisterous energy of the three pirate crews filled the tavern, a tangible wave of ambition and raw power. Luffy, true to form, was already attempting to sample everyone's drinks and food, his infectious laughter echoing through the room. Kid leaned against the bar, a sneer playing on his lips as he watched Luffy's antics, while Law stood slightly apart, his gaze sharp and observant as he conversed quietly with his first mate, Bepo.

It was Law who first seemed to truly register your presence. His eyes, usually so guarded and analytical, narrowed almost imperceptibly as they flickered back to your corner. He paused mid-sentence, a subtle shift in his posture betraying a heightened awareness. It wasn't your appearance, which was striking yet understated, that caught his attention. It was something deeper, a feeling that prickled at the back of his neck – a sense of immense, almost suffocating power that radiated from you in silent waves. He had faced Yonko, felt the crushing weight of their Haki, but this was different. This was a dormant volcano, a quiet storm that hinted at unimaginable destruction.

Kid, ever attuned to displays of strength, also seemed to pick up on the subtle shift in the atmosphere. His crimson eyes, usually fixed on the Straw Hats with a mixture of disdain and rivalry, flickered towards you. He scowled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. There was something about your stillness, the utter lack of tension in your posture despite the palpable energy you exuded, that grated on his nerves. It was the quiet confidence of someone who knew they held a trump card.

Even Luffy, in the midst of trying to convince Zoro to share his sake, paused, his head tilting slightly. His usual carefree grin faltered for a fleeting moment as his gaze, surprisingly sharp when focused, landed on you. There was a flicker of something akin to curiosity, perhaps even a primal recognition of a formidable presence, before his attention was once again diverted by the promise of more food.

Law, however, remained fixed on you. He took a slow step forward, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of Kikoku. The air in your corner seemed to thicken, the boisterous laughter of the pirates fading into a dull hum.

"You," Law's voice cut through the noise, low and steady. "Who are you?"

All eyes in the tavern turned towards you. The Straw Hats and Kid Pirates, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, fell silent, their previous revelry momentarily forgotten. The few remaining locals held their breath, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.

You finally lowered your drink, the movement slow and deliberate. Your gaze, which had been distant and contemplative, now met Law's directly. There was no challenge in your eyes, no arrogance, only a profound stillness that seemed to absorb the intensity of his stare.

A faint smile touched your lips, a fleeting expression that held more mystery than amusement. "Just someone passing through," you replied, your voice soft, yet carrying a strange resonance that seemed to fill the sudden silence of the tavern. "Someone who enjoys a quiet drink."

But the air remained charged, the unspoken question hanging heavy between you and the captains of the new generation. They had sensed it, the immense power that lay coiled beneath your calm exterior. And in the unpredictable landscape of Wano, such power could either be a valuable ally or a devastating enemy. The game, it seemed, had just gained a new, and potentially very dangerous, player.

The tense silence hung in the air, thick enough to cut with a blade. Law's gaze remained fixed on you, his suspicion palpable. Before you could elaborate on your cryptic statement, a sudden tremor ran through the tavern. The wooden beams groaned, dust rained down from the ceiling, and the sake bottles rattled precariously on the shelves.

"What the hell was that?" Kid growled, his metallic arm flexing instinctively.

Before anyone could answer, the tavern door burst open once more, this time revealing a frantic townsman, his face pale with terror. "They're here! Kaido's men! They're rounding up anyone who looks even slightly suspicious!"

Panic erupted. The remaining locals scrambled for cover, their earlier stoicism shattered by the immediate threat. The pirates, however, remained alert, their eyes narrowed in anticipation of a fight.

In the ensuing chaos, a large, burly Beast Pirate, easily twice the size of a normal man, stumbled backwards, sent sprawling by a stray kick from one of Kid's crew. He flailed wildly, his massive hand reaching out for anything to steady himself. His desperate grip landed squarely on your arm, his thick fingers wrapping around your bare forearm.

The moment his skin made contact with yours, a visible ripple spread outwards from the point of contact. The Beast Pirate let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening in disbelief and dawning horror. The vibrant color drained from his skin, replaced by a sickly grey. His once taut muscles seemed to deflate, his flesh wrinkling and sagging as if decades were collapsing onto him in mere seconds. His thick, calloused hand, still gripping your arm, began to resemble the brittle claw of an ancient corpse.

A collective gasp swept through the tavern. The pirates, momentarily stunned by the suddenness and the sheer unnaturalness of the transformation, stared in horrified fascination. The burly Beast Pirate, who had been a picture of brute strength just moments before, now looked like a frail old man on the verge of collapse. His grip loosened, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumbled to the floor, a pile of withered flesh and brittle bones.

You stood there, your arm where he had touched you seemingly unaffected, your expression unreadable. The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the soft thud of the decayed body hitting the wooden floor. The air, already thick with tension, now crackled with a potent mix of fear and bewildered awe.

All eyes were on you, the mysterious stranger who had just turned a formidable Beast Pirate into dust with a single touch. The rumors, the whispers of unimaginable power, suddenly seemed terrifyingly real. The Fushi Fushi no Mi had revealed its horrifying truth, and the three pirate captains, along with their crews, now understood that the quiet figure in the corner was far more dangerous than they could have possibly imagined.

The silence stretched, taut and heavy. The sheer impossibility of what they had just witnessed hung in the air, a grotesque testament to your power. Even the seasoned pirates, who had seen their fair share of bizarre Devil Fruit abilities, were momentarily speechless.

Then, a slow clap echoed through the stunned silence. It was Luffy. His usual wide, goofy grin was stretched even wider, bordering on manic. His eyes, wide and sparkling with unrestrained wonder, were fixed on you.

"Sugoi!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with pure, unadulterated amazement. "You can make people old instantly! That's so cool!" He took a step forward, his rubbery limbs seeming to coil with excitement. "Hey! Can you do it again? Can you make that table all crumbly?"

Nami smacked the back of his head. "Luffy! Don't just go waltzing over there! We have no idea who this person is or what they're capable of!" Her voice was sharp with a nervous edge, her eyes darting between you and the withered corpse on the floor.

Zoro's hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, his one visible eye narrowed in cautious assessment. Usopp, ever the cautious one, had already retreated behind Franky, peeking out with wide, fearful eyes. Chopper trembled, muttering about the terrifying implications of such an ability. Robin, however, observed you with a thoughtful curiosity, her expression betraying a flicker of intrigue.

Across the room, the Kid Pirates were equally tense, though their reactions were more subdued. Killer's masked face remained impassive, but his posture was coiled and ready. Kid himself stared at you, his crimson eyes narrowed in a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect. A low whistle escaped his lips. "Damn," he muttered, a hint of awe in his voice despite himself. "That's…something else."

Law, ever the pragmatist, remained still, his gaze unwavering. There was a flicker of something akin to scientific curiosity in his eyes, overlaid with a healthy dose of caution. "That Devil Fruit…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "To accelerate decay to that extent…it's unlike anything I've encountered." He pushed his glasses up his nose, his analytical mind already dissecting the implications of your power.

"You said you were just passing through," Law continued, his voice calm but with an underlying sharpness. "That seems like quite the understatement. Someone with such a…destructive ability doesn't simply 'pass through' Wano unnoticed. Who are you, really?"

The weight of their combined attention bore down on you. Three of the most formidable captains of the new era, their crews on high alert, all waiting for your answer. Luffy, however, seemed oblivious to the tension, his starry eyes still fixed on you with childlike wonder.

"Can you turn metal rusty too?" he asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "That would be super useful against those samurai with their shiny swords!"

You met Law’s piercing gaze with an unreadable expression. The raw curiosity in Luffy’s voice, however, drew a faint, almost imperceptible smile to your lips. The contrast between the Straw Hat captain’s unbridled wonder and the more guarded reactions of the others was…intriguing.

"Indeed," you finally replied, your voice still soft but now carrying a hint of amusement. "The Fushi Fushi no Mi allows me to accelerate the decay of anything I touch. Organic, inorganic…the principle remains the same. The rate and intensity, however, are…variable." You glanced pointedly at the withered form of the Beast Pirate, a silent testament to the upper limits of your control.

Kid scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Variable, huh? You turned that brute into dust in seconds. Doesn't sound very 'variable' to me."

"Control is paramount," you countered, your gaze flicking to him briefly before returning to Law. "Untamed power is merely destruction. Precision allows for…finesse."

Law’s eyes narrowed further. "Finesse? What possible 'finesse' could be derived from such a gruesome ability?"

Before you could answer, Luffy bounded forward a few more steps, ignoring Nami’s protests. "Can you make food go bad really fast? Imagine all the rotten meat we could throw at our enemies!"

You tilted your head slightly, a genuine smile now gracing your features. "That…is certainly one application."

"Luffy, stop it!" Nami snapped, grabbing the back of his collar. "You're being incredibly rude and reckless!"

Despite Nami’s scolding, Luffy’s innocent fascination seemed to defuse some of the immediate tension in the room. The sheer absurdity of his question, juxtaposed with the grim reality of your power, was almost comical.

You finally rose from your stool, your movements fluid and graceful despite the undercurrent of immense power you exuded. You were of average height, your clothing simple yet elegant, doing little to reveal the secrets you held. Your face, framed by strands of dark hair, held a timeless quality, your eyes deep pools that seemed to hold eons of untold stories.

"My name," you said, your voice carrying a quiet authority that commanded attention despite its softness, "is…unimportant for now. As I said, I am merely passing through Wano. My presence here is…temporary." You offered a slight bow, a gesture that was both polite and subtly dismissive. "Please, continue your…reunion. I will take my leave."

With that, you turned and walked towards the shattered doorway, your movements silent and swift. The three pirate captains and their crews watched you go, a whirlwind of thoughts and unanswered questions swirling in their minds. The mysterious stranger with the terrifying power had arrived as quietly as they were now departing, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease and a profound curiosity. In a land as volatile and unpredictable as Wano, they knew they hadn't seen the last of you.

The chaotic energy of the tavern slowly dissipated in your wake, leaving behind a heavy silence punctuated by the Straw Hats’ bewildered chatter. Luffy, despite Nami’s continued reprimands, was still buzzing with excitement about your abilities.

“Imagine if Y/N could touch Kaido!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “Would he get all wrinkly and weak?”

Zoro grunted, taking a swig of sake. “Don’t be stupid, Luffy. Someone that strong probably has ways to defend themselves.”

“But still!” Luffy persisted. “That decay power is amazing! We should ask them to join our crew!”

Nami nearly choked on her drink. “Are you insane?! We just saw them turn a person into dust with a single touch! They’re way too dangerous!”

Robin chuckled softly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Intriguing, isn’t it? Such a potent ability, wielded with such…restraint.”

Unbeknownst to them, your path, seemingly set on a quiet departure from Onigashima’s chaos, was about to intersect with the Straw Hats once more, albeit in a far less volatile setting.

Days later, the Straw Hats found themselves navigating the treacherous landscape of Wano’s countryside. They were scouting for potential allies and gathering information, a task made difficult by the ever-present threat of Kaido’s forces. A sudden downpour had forced them to seek shelter within the dilapidated remains of a small, abandoned shrine nestled deep within a bamboo forest.

The air inside was damp and still, the only sound the rhythmic drumming of rain on the decaying roof. Luffy, predictably restless, was poking around the dusty altar, while Nami meticulously wrung out her soaked hair. Zoro leaned against a crumbling pillar, his senses alert, and the others were similarly occupied with trying to make the best of their unexpected refuge.

Then, a soft sound broke through the drumming of the rain – the gentle rustling of bamboo leaves. Zoro’s eye snapped open, his hand instantly moving towards his swords. Nami tensed, her gaze darting towards the entrance of the shrine.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the grey curtain of rain, was you. You were cloaked in a simple, dark garment that did little to conceal the air of quiet power that always seemed to surround you. A faint mist clung to your shoulders, and droplets of rain glistened in your dark hair.

A moment of stunned silence hung in the air. It was Luffy who broke it, his face lighting up with his signature grin.

“Ah! It’s the old-making person!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with a wide smile. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Nami smacked him again. “Show some respect, Luffy!” she hissed, though her own surprise was evident.

You stepped further into the shrine, your gaze sweeping over the Straw Hats, a hint of recognition in your eyes. “It seems fate has a peculiar sense of humor,” you said softly, your voice echoing slightly in the confined space. “Or perhaps, the rain simply drives us all to seek the same shelter.”

The Straw Hats stared at you, a mixture of surprise and cautious curiosity etched on their faces. Luffy, ever the anomaly, seemed genuinely pleased by the unexpected reunion.

"You're all wet!" he declared, oblivious to the underlying tension. "Come sit down! This old place isn't the best, but it's dry-ish!" He gestured vaguely towards a relatively less dusty corner of the shrine.

You inclined your head slightly. "Thank you." You moved with the same fluid grace they had witnessed in the tavern, settling near the back wall, a comfortable distance away from the Straw Hats but not overtly isolating yourself.

Nami, ever the pragmatist, was the first to break the renewed silence. "What are you doing out here, all alone? This area isn't exactly safe, even without Kaido's men crawling around."

"My path takes me through this land," you replied, your gaze distant, as if you were looking beyond the crumbling walls of the shrine. "Solitude is…often preferable."

"But you're incredibly strong!" Luffy interjected, his eyes shining with admiration. "Why aren't you fighting Kaido or something? You could probably beat him!"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed your face. "Strength is not always best used in direct confrontation, Captain," you said, your gaze briefly meeting Luffy's. "Sometimes, the most potent force is the one that remains unseen."

Zoro grunted, his arms crossed. "Sounds like you're hiding something."

"Everyone carries their secrets, swordsman," you countered, your voice even. "It is what defines us, in part."

Robin smiled gently. "You mentioned your path. Does it have a destination?"

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze softening slightly as you looked at the archaeologist. "Eventually. But for now, I simply observe, I learn…and I try not to leave too much…decay in my wake." You glanced down at your hands, a subtle shadow passing over your expression.

The rain continued its relentless drumming, creating a temporary truce in the tense atmosphere. The Straw Hats, despite their initial caution, found themselves intrigued by your enigmatic presence. There was a quiet sadness about you, a sense of immense power carefully leashed, that piqued their curiosity.

Luffy, never one for prolonged seriousness, suddenly grinned. "Hey! Since we're all stuck here, do you know any cool stories? You seem like you've seen a lot of things!"

The unexpected request seemed to catch you off guard. A faint smile touched your lips once more, a genuine, almost wistful expression. "Stories…" you murmured, as if the word held a distant memory. "Perhaps…perhaps I do."

And as the rain continued to fall outside, the mysterious figure known only for their terrifying power began to weave tales of forgotten lands and long-lost histories, captivating the Straw Hat Pirates with glimpses into a world far beyond their own adventures in Wano. For a brief moment, the shared shelter transcended the uncertainty of their meeting, replaced by the timeless magic of storytelling.

Hours drifted by, filled with your captivating tales. You spoke of ancient civilizations swallowed by time, of forgotten seas teeming with mythical creatures, and of individuals who wielded powers that dwarfed even the mightiest Devil Fruits. Your voice, though soft, held a resonance that painted vivid pictures in their minds. The Straw Hats, even the usually stoic Zoro, were enthralled, their initial apprehension replaced by a sense of wonder.

As the last vestiges of the storm retreated, the rain softening to a gentle drizzle before ceasing altogether, a sliver of golden sunlight pierced through the gaps in the dilapidated roof. You rose, your movements as silent as your arrival.

"The rain has passed," you stated simply, your gaze drifting towards the now clearing sky. "My path calls me onward."

Luffy, who had been hanging on your every word, jumped to his feet. "Wait! You're leaving already?" He puffed out his chest, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Hey! I have a question! You're really strong, right? And your power is super cool! So…will you join my crew?"

The question hung in the air, direct and guileless, a stark contrast to the cautious observations of the other Straw Hats. You turned to face him, your expression thoughtful.

"Join your crew, Captain?" you echoed softly. "Your journey is a vibrant one, filled with a camaraderie I have…not often encountered." A fleeting hint of melancholy touched your eyes before being quickly masked. "However, my path is a solitary one, for now. My…touch…is not always a blessing."

You walked towards a sturdy, albeit moss-covered, stone lantern that stood near the entrance of the shrine. You paused, your hand hovering over its weathered surface for a moment. Then, with a gentle touch, your fingers brushed against the cold stone.

A faint, greyish mist emanated from your hand, swirling around the lantern. The moss withered and crumbled to dust. The stone itself seemed to soften, the sharp edges blurring. In a matter of seconds, the once ordinary lantern had transformed. The decaying stone had reformed into an intricate sculpture, a delicate lattice of interconnected vines and blooming, albeit petrified, flowers. It was a breathtakingly beautiful object, born from the very power that brought decay.

The Straw Hats stared in stunned silence. The grotesque nature of your ability had been juxtaposed with an unexpected artistry.

You stepped back, your gaze lingering on the transformed lantern. "A parting gift," you said softly. "A reminder that even destruction can give birth to something…new."

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the dilapidated shrine, disappearing into the lush greenery of the bamboo forest as silently as you had arrived. Luffy watched you go, his expression a mixture of disappointment and awe.

"So…that's a no?" he asked, tilting his head.

Nami sighed. "He didn't exactly say no, Luffy. But it definitely wasn't a yes."

Robin smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps our paths will cross again. The world is a surprisingly small place."

As the Straw Hats emerged from the shrine, the intricately decayed stone lantern stood as a silent testament to the mysterious power and enigmatic nature of the individual they had briefly encountered. The question of whether you would ever join their crew remained unanswered, hanging in the air like the lingering scent of rain on the forest floor.

A day later, the humid air of Wano clung to you like a second skin as you navigated a less-traveled path through a dense forest. The encounter with the Straw Hats had been…unexpected. Their vibrant energy and unwavering camaraderie were a stark contrast to the solitude you usually sought. Luffy’s directness, in particular, had been a refreshing anomaly.

The rustling of leaves ahead broke your contemplative silence. It wasn't the random stirring of the wind or the skittering of small animals. This was a more deliberate movement, the kind that spoke of human presence. You halted, your senses sharpening, the subtle thrum of the Fushi Fushi no Mi a familiar undercurrent within you.

Rounding a bend in the path, the source of the disturbance came into view. It was a small group of figures, their distinctive yellow and black submarine, the Polar Tang, partially concealed amongst the trees near a hidden cove. The Heart Pirates.

Trafalgar Law stood near the water's edge, his coat swaying gently in the breeze, engaged in a quiet conversation with Bepo. Several other members of his crew were scattered nearby, some tending to minor repairs on the submarine, others keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

Their presence here, in this seemingly remote location, was intriguing. Law was not one for aimless wandering. He always had a purpose, a calculated move in the intricate game he was playing in Wano.

Law’s sharp eyes, ever vigilant, spotted you almost immediately. His hand instinctively drifted towards the hilt of Kikoku, his usual guarded expression hardening slightly. Bepo, ever loyal and protective, stepped forward, a low growl rumbling in his throat. The other Heart Pirates also tensed, their movements becoming more alert.

"You," Law stated, his voice carrying across the small clearing, devoid of any friendly greeting. "We meet again. You seem to have a habit of appearing where you are least expected."

You stopped a few paces away, your own expression neutral. "And you, Captain Trafalgar," you replied, your voice calm. "Your penchant for clandestine meetings in secluded locations remains consistent."

The air crackled with a different kind of tension than your encounter with the Straw Hats. Law was not driven by innocent curiosity or boundless optimism. His gaze was analytical, probing, seeking to understand the threat or the potential advantage you might represent.

"What is your purpose in this forest?" Law asked, his voice sharp. "This is not a place for casual strolls."

"My purpose is my own," you countered, your tone polite but firm. "Just as yours is likely known only to your crew."

A tense silence descended, the only sound the gentle lapping of water against the hull of the Polar Tang. Law’s eyes narrowed, studying you intently, as if trying to decipher the enigma that lay beneath your calm exterior. The memory of the Beast Pirate’s rapid decay was undoubtedly fresh in his mind. This unexpected second encounter held the potential for either conflict or an uneasy alliance in the unpredictable landscape of Wano.

Law’s gaze remained fixed on you, a silent interrogation. The other Heart Pirates stood ready, their hands near their weapons. The air thrummed with unspoken suspicion.

"While your purpose may be your own," Law finally said, his voice carefully measured, "our paths seem to be intersecting with increasing frequency. In a land as dangerous as Wano, such coincidences rarely remain harmless."

Before you could respond, a frantic shout echoed from deeper within the forest. "Captain! We've got company! Beast Pirates!"

Several figures, clad in the roughspun attire and animalistic features characteristic of Kaido’s crew, burst through the trees, their weapons drawn and their faces contorted in aggressive snarls. They had clearly stumbled upon the Heart Pirates' hidden location.

"Damn it!" Law cursed under his breath, his hand now firmly gripping Kikoku. "They found us."

The Heart Pirates sprang into action, their movements swift and coordinated. Bepo roared, launching himself towards the oncoming attackers. Penguin and Shachi drew their cutlasses, their expressions grim.

You stood still for a moment, observing the unfolding chaos. The Beast Pirates, though numerous, were clearly outmatched by the seasoned Heart Pirates. However, their arrival had disrupted Law’s clandestine meeting and posed a potential threat to their operation.

As a particularly large Beast Pirate, wielding a spiked club, lumbered towards Law, the captain prepared to intercept him with a swift slash of his sword. But the pirate was surprisingly fast, his club arcing down with brutal force.

Instinctively, you moved. It wasn't a conscious decision to aid them, but a reaction to the immediate threat. You sidestepped the pirate’s wild swing and, with a fleeting touch, your fingers grazed the wooden handle of his club.

The effect was instantaneous and horrifying. The thick wood of the club seemed to age centuries in a blink. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, the once sturdy material turning brittle and grey. As the pirate brought the club down again, it disintegrated upon impact with the ground, crumbling into a pile of dust and splinters.

The Beast Pirate stared at the remnants of his weapon in bewildered shock, giving Law the opening he needed. With a swift shambles, Law teleported behind the stunned pirate and delivered a precise cut with Kikoku, incapacitating him instantly.

The other Beast Pirates faltered, their initial aggression replaced by confusion and a dawning sense of unease as they witnessed their comrade’s weapon turn to dust with a mere touch. Their eyes darted towards you, a new element of fear entering their brutish faces.

Law landed gracefully beside you, his sword still held loosely in his hand. He glanced at the pile of dust that was once a formidable weapon, then turned his sharp gaze to you.

"That ability…" he began, his voice a low murmur, a mixture of surprise and something akin to reluctant understanding in his tone.

The remaining Beast Pirates, seeing their advantage lost and a terrifying new element introduced to the fight, began to retreat back into the forest, their bravado replaced by a panicked scramble.

The Heart Pirates stood their ground, watching the fleeing enemies disappear amongst the trees. A tense silence descended once more, this time broken only by Bepo’s heavy breathing.

Law sheathed Kikoku, his gaze still fixed on you. "You…intervened." It wasn't a question, but a statement, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

You simply nodded, your expression neutral. "Their presence was disruptive."

Law’s eyes narrowed, but this time, the suspicion seemed to be tempered with a grudging acknowledgment. "Indeed. It seems our paths have intersected in a way that…benefited us." He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Why?"

You met Law’s probing gaze, a flicker of something akin to weariness in your eyes. "Disruptions rarely serve anyone's long-term goals," you replied, your voice soft but firm. "Their presence threatened your…clandestine activities. And prolonged conflict draws unwanted attention in this land."

Law considered your words, his analytical mind dissecting your motives. He was clearly still wary, but the blatant display of your power, used to their benefit, had undeniably shifted the dynamic.

"You could have simply left," he pointed out, his gaze still sharp. "Why involve yourself?"

A faint sigh escaped your lips, a rare display of emotion. "Perhaps…I am tired of the endless cycle of conflict. Perhaps a moment of…equilibrium…is preferable." You glanced towards the direction the Beast Pirates had fled. "They will likely return with reinforcements. Your hidden location is compromised."

Law’s expression turned grim. He knew you were right. Their temporary sanctuary had been exposed.

"You seem surprisingly knowledgeable about our situation," he observed, his suspicion resurfacing.

"I observe," you reiterated, your gaze sweeping over the Heart Pirates. "It is in my nature. And in a land ruled by chaos, information is a valuable currency."

He remained silent for a moment, then a flicker of his characteristic pragmatism crossed his features. "Regardless of your reasons, you assisted us. That merits…acknowledgment." He inclined his head slightly, a gesture that seemed almost reluctant. "We are in your debt."

Bepo, ever loyal to his captain, looked at Law with surprise. It was rare for him to offer such a direct acknowledgment to a stranger.

"However," Law continued, his gaze returning to its usual intensity, "that does not erase the fact that you possess a terrifying power and remain an enigma. What do you intend to do now?"

You turned your gaze towards the Polar Tang, its sleek form a stark contrast to the surrounding wilderness. "My path continues onward. But perhaps…for a short while…our paths could align. Your hidden location is compromised. Traveling alone in this forest is…inefficient."

A thoughtful silence descended upon the Heart Pirates. They exchanged glances, clearly weighing the potential benefits and risks of traveling alongside someone with your unpredictable power. Law, however, seemed to be already calculating the possibilities. An alliance, even a temporary one, with someone capable of such devastating and subtle destruction could be a significant asset in navigating the treacherous landscape of Wano and achieving his own objectives.

"An…interesting proposition," Law finally said, a hint of a calculating glint in his eyes. "What would be your terms?"

You met Law's calculating gaze with an equally steady one. "My terms are simple," you stated, your voice clear and devoid of any demanding tone. "I require no allegiance, no commitment beyond the immediate present. I offer assistance when our paths align with a common obstacle. In return, I ask for information relevant to my own…endeavors…and safe passage through territories you may control or influence."

The Heart Pirates listened intently, their expressions ranging from wary suspicion to cautious curiosity. Bepo looked towards Law, awaiting his captain's decision.

Law stroked his chin thoughtfully, his gaze still fixed on you. "Information is a valuable commodity in Wano. And safe passage…depends on the territory." He paused, considering the implications. "However…your display of power was…persuasive. And your assessment of our current predicament is accurate."

He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "I will offer you a temporary alliance, under the terms you have outlined. You are free to travel alongside us, and we will share information that may be mutually beneficial. In return, we expect your…assistance…when necessary. And," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly, "we expect no…unforeseen applications of your Devil Fruit on our crew or our allies."

You inclined your head slightly. "An agreeable arrangement, Captain."

A tense silence followed, the unspoken question of your true intentions hanging in the air. Law, however, seemed to have made his decision, his pragmatic nature overriding his inherent caution.

"Furthermore," Law continued, his gaze surprisingly direct, "once this…alliance…has served its purpose…I would extend a more permanent offer. Your abilities are…unique. A force such as yours could be invaluable." He paused, his eyes searching yours. "Consider joining the Heart Pirates, Y/N."

The offer hung in the air, unexpected and carrying a weight that surprised even you. Law was not one to make such offers lightly. He valued the cohesion and loyalty of his crew above almost all else.

You met his gaze, your expression unreadable. The idea of belonging, of being part of a crew, was a foreign concept, a stark contrast to your solitary existence. Yet, there was a certain…intrigue…in his proposition. The Heart Pirates, despite their initial suspicion, possessed a unique dynamic, a blend of loyalty and competence that was…compelling.

"Your offer is…noted, Captain," you replied, your voice carefully neutral. "The future, however, remains unwritten. Let us navigate the present first."

Law nodded slowly, a hint of a rare, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "Fair enough. Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, prepare the Polar Tang for departure. We need to find a new anchorage." He turned back to you. "Welcome aboard…for now, Y/N."

And just like that, the solitary path you had walked had intersected with the unpredictable journey of the Heart Pirates. The temporary alliance had been forged, but the question of your true allegiance, and whether you would ever truly join their ranks, remained a mystery, a silent undercurrent in the unfolding events of Wano.

Following your lead, the Heart Pirates quickly mobilized, their movements efficient and practiced. Bepo took point, his Sulong form briefly flaring as he sniffed out the safest route through the dense foliage. Penguin and Shachi flanked you, their eyes darting nervously between the surrounding trees and your still form. Law brought up the rear, his gaze sharp and watchful.

Your knowledge of the terrain, gleaned from your days of quiet observation, proved invaluable. You navigated them through hidden pathways and avoided potential Beast Pirate patrols, leading them to a secluded cove further inland, one that offered better concealment for the Polar Tang.

Once the submarine was safely nestled amongst the jagged rocks and overgrown vegetation, a collective sigh of relief swept through the Heart Pirates. The immediate threat had been neutralized, thanks in no small part to your unexpected intervention.

Law turned to you, his expression still guarded but with a hint of something akin to respect. "You have proven…useful," he conceded, a rare compliment from the usually taciturn captain. "Your knowledge of this land is impressive."

You simply nodded. "Observation often yields valuable insights."

The Heart Pirates began to settle into their temporary sanctuary, some tending to the submarine, others setting up watch. You remained slightly apart, your gaze drawn towards the dense forest that stretched beyond the cove. The allure of solitude, of the quiet anonymity you usually embraced, was beginning to tug at you once more.

After a while, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cove, you turned to Law. "Captain Trafalgar," you said, your voice quiet but carrying clearly in the stillness of the evening. "The immediate threat has passed. You are in a secure location, for now. My path calls me onward."

Law regarded you with a thoughtful expression. "You are leaving?" There was a hint of surprise in his voice, perhaps a lingering expectation that you might stay longer, given his earlier offer.

"My assistance was a response to a momentary disruption," you explained, your gaze steady. "My journey is not intertwined with yours. Solitude…suits me."

Bepo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "But the Beast Pirates saw your power! They'll be hunting for you!"

"I have evaded those who seek me for far longer than you have navigated these seas, polar bear," you replied, a hint of amusement in your tone. "I am…adept at remaining unseen when necessary."

Law remained silent for a moment, his eyes studying you intently. He seemed to be weighing the potential benefits of pressing you to stay against the inherent unpredictability of your nature. Finally, he nodded slowly. "I understand. Your…independence is palpable."

He offered another slight inclination of his head, a gesture that seemed to convey a grudging respect for your decision. "If our paths cross again, perhaps under different circumstances…"

You returned the nod, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching your lips. "Perhaps, Captain. The seas are vast, but fate has a curious way of weaving connections."

With that, you turned and walked towards the edge of the cove, disappearing into the deepening shadows of the forest. The Heart Pirates watched you go, the enigmatic figure fading into the wilderness as silently and mysteriously as you had appeared. They were left with the lingering memory of your terrifying power and the unsettling feeling that they had only scratched the surface of the secrets you held. The brief alliance, born out of necessity, had come to an end, leaving them to ponder the true nature of the impossibly strong stranger who had briefly walked among them.

A few days later, the oppressive humidity of Wano's inland territories clung to you as you traversed a rocky, sparsely vegetated region. The encounter with the Heart Pirates had been brief, a fleeting alliance born of circumstance. Now, the familiar cloak of solitude had settled back upon your shoulders.

The distant clang of metal against metal, carried on the dry wind, broke the silence. It was a harsh, discordant sound, indicative of conflict. You paused, your senses automatically on alert. While you generally avoided unnecessary entanglements, the intensity of the clashing suggested a significant confrontation.

Moving with silent grace, you approached the source of the noise, weaving through jagged rock formations. The scene that unfolded was a brutal melee. The Kid Pirates, easily identifiable by their distinctive punk-inspired attire and Eustass Kid's imposing metallic arm, were locked in a fierce battle against a contingent of Beast Pirates.

Kid, his face a mask of fury, wielded his magnetic powers with devastating effect, crushing weapons and sending armored foes flying. Killer, his scythes a whirlwind of deadly precision, danced through the fray, leaving a trail of incapacitated enemies in his wake. However, they were outnumbered, and the sheer brute force of the Beast Pirates was beginning to wear them down.

A particularly large, tusked Beast Pirate swung a massive spiked mace towards Killer, who narrowly dodged the blow. Before Killer could retaliate, another Beast Pirate lunged at him from the side. Kid, momentarily occupied with crushing a group of riflemen, couldn't intervene in time.

Instinctively, you moved. You reached the two closest rocks, each roughly the size of a human head, and with a subtle application of your Devil Fruit power, you accelerated their decay. In the blink of an eye, the sturdy stones crumbled into fine dust. With a silent flick of your wrist, you propelled the dust clouds towards the two Beast Pirates threatening Killer.

The fine grey powder billowed into their faces, momentarily blinding and choking them. They staggered back, coughing and sputtering, their attacks faltering. Killer, seizing the opportunity, swiftly incapacitated both of them.

Kid, noticing the sudden intervention, turned his head, his crimson eyes narrowing as they landed on you. He scowled, his expression a mixture of suspicion and grudging curiosity.

"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he bellowed over the din of the battle, his voice rough.

The remaining Beast Pirates also turned their attention towards you, their initial aggression momentarily replaced by confusion and a flicker of unease as they witnessed the bizarre cloud of dust that had incapacitated their comrades.

You stepped forward, your expression neutral, the dust motes swirling around you like a silent shroud. "Merely…leveling the playing field," you replied, your voice calm amidst the chaos. "Disruptions rarely end favorably for either side in the long run."

Kid’s scowl deepened, his metallic arm sparking with contained energy. "Leveling the playing field? You some kind of do-gooder now?" He spat the words out as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. "We had things under control."

Killer, ever the pragmatist, lowered his scythes, his masked gaze fixed on you. "They were gaining the upper hand, Captain. That dust…what was it?"

The remaining members of the Kid Pirates also eyed you warily, their hands still gripping their weapons. They had witnessed firsthand the devastating power of your touch, and now they had seen another strange application of your abilities.

"Simply accelerated decay," you explained, your voice even. "The rocks were…unstable. Their deterioration was…expedited."

Kid snorted. "Unstable rocks, huh? Convenient. You just happen to be strolling by when we're in a pinch?" His suspicion was palpable. He was not a captain who readily accepted help without questioning the motives behind it.

Before the tension could escalate further, the remaining Beast Pirates, witnessing the bizarre turn of events and the incapacitation of their comrades, roared in renewed fury and charged forward.

"Looks like your 'leveling' didn't quite finish the job," Kid sneered, his attention snapping back to the immediate threat. His metallic arm whirred, drawing in discarded weapons from the battlefield. "Alright, you weirdo! Stay out of our way unless you actually plan on helping properly!"

The Kid Pirates surged forward to meet the renewed attack, their movements brutal and efficient. Kid unleashed a barrage of scrap metal, tearing through the ranks of the Beast Pirates. Killer resumed his deadly dance, his scythes flashing.

You watched the battle unfold for a moment, assessing the situation. The Kid Pirates were undoubtedly strong, but they were still outnumbered and taking heavy blows. Your intervention with the dust had provided a temporary reprieve, but the sheer attrition of the Beast Pirates’ numbers was a significant threat.

With a quiet sigh, you stepped forward once more. This time, instead of subtle manipulation, you moved with a more direct approach. As a hulking Beast Pirate with a massive axe lunged towards a downed member of the Kid Pirates, you intercepted him. Your hand shot out, your fingers brushing against the metal of the axe head.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The once gleaming metal dulled instantly, a layer of rust blooming across its surface like a grotesque flower. Cracks appeared, spiderwebbing across the axe head. The Beast Pirate roared in confusion as his weapon crumbled in his grip, turning into a pile of brittle, oxidized fragments.

He stared at the remnants of his axe in disbelief, leaving himself wide open. Killer, who had been moving to aid his fallen crewmate, seized the opportunity and swiftly took down the stunned Beast Pirate.

A collective gasp went through both pirate crews. The sheer speed and destructive power of your ability were horrifyingly evident. Kid himself paused in his assault, his crimson eyes widening slightly as he witnessed the instantaneous decay of the axe.

"What the hell…?" he muttered, a rare note of genuine surprise in his voice. Even he, with his formidable magnetic powers, had never witnessed anything quite like it.

The remaining Beast Pirates, their morale visibly shaken by the disintegration of their comrade’s weapon, began to falter. The tide of the battle was turning, not through brute force alone, but through the terrifying, silent power of decay.

The sight of the axe crumbling into rust seemed to drain the fight from the remaining Beast Pirates. Their crude roars of aggression turned into panicked cries as they stumbled backward, fear replacing their earlier ferocity. They had faced powerful fighters, even those with strange Devil Fruit abilities, but the instantaneous decay you wielded was something alien and terrifying.

Kid, seizing the moment, unleashed another powerful magnetic blast, sending a cluster of their fallen comrades’ weapons hurtling towards the retreating Beast Pirates. The impact scattered them, their disorganized retreat turning into a full-blown rout.

Soon, the only sounds were the heavy breathing of the Kid Pirates and the distant crashing of Beast Pirates fleeing through the undergrowth. An uneasy silence settled over the battlefield.

Kid lowered his outstretched arm, his crimson eyes fixed on you. He ran a hand through his spiky red hair, a look of grudging respect mixed with lingering suspicion on his face.

"Alright, weirdo," he said, his voice less hostile than before. "I gotta admit, that was…something. Turning metal to dust like that. What the hell is your deal?"

Killer approached, his masked face inscrutable. "Your abilities are…unusual. And incredibly dangerous."

The other members of the Kid Pirates also gathered around, their gazes a mixture of awe and apprehension. They had just witnessed firsthand the terrifying potential of this mysterious stranger who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

You met Kid’s gaze, your expression as unreadable as ever. "My 'deal,' as you put it, is simply survival. And occasionally…a desire to expedite the inevitable." You glanced at the retreating forms of the Beast Pirates. "Prolonged conflict serves no one."

Kid snorted, but there was a hint of reluctant agreement in his tone. "Yeah, well, thanks for the save, I guess. We had it mostly handled, but…that definitely sped things up." He paused, studying you intently. "You just wander around doing…that? Turning things old and crumbly?"

"In essence," you confirmed, your voice calm.

"You got a name?" Kid asked, his curiosity piqued despite his gruff demeanor.

You hesitated for a moment, a flicker of your usual guardedness returning. "Names…are often burdens. For now, you can simply call me…Y/N."

Kid grunted. "Y/N, huh? Sounds…fitting." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So, Y/N, you just gonna disappear again? Like some kind of ghost?"

"My path is my own, Captain Kid," you replied, your gaze drifting towards the horizon. "But our paths seem to have a peculiar tendency to intersect."

A wry smirk touched Kid’s lips. "Yeah, well, try not to make it a habit of showing up just when things get interesting. It's messing with my reputation for causing chaos." Despite his words, there was a hint of something else in his eyes – a grudging acknowledgment of your strength and a flicker of intrigue regarding the mysteries you held. The encounter with Y/N, the stranger who could turn the very fabric of existence to dust, had left an undeniable impression on the notorious Captain Eustass Kid and his crew.

Kid continued to regard you with a mixture of suspicion and fascination. "Look, Y/N," he began, his usual abrasive tone slightly softened, perhaps by the undeniable assistance you had provided. "You're strong. Freakishly strong, in a seriously messed-up way. And you showed up twice now when things were getting hairy. Maybe it's more than just coincidence."

He gestured with his metallic arm, encompassing the battlefield littered with the remnants of the Beast Pirates' weapons. "My crew…we're aiming for the top. Taking down every damn obstacle in our way. Having someone like you on our side…someone who can turn our enemies into dust with a touch…that'd be a hell of an advantage."

He paused, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. "So, what do you say, Y/N? Join the Kid Pirates. Help us paint this world red."

The members of his crew watched you with a similar mix of anticipation and apprehension. They had seen your power, and while it was terrifying, they also recognized its potential. Having such a force on their side could tip the scales in their favor in the brutal New World.

You considered his offer, your gaze sweeping over the faces of the Kid Pirates. They were a fierce and ambitious crew, driven by a relentless desire for power. Their path was one of open defiance and brutal conquest, a stark contrast to the more calculated and often secretive actions of the Heart Pirates.

"Join your crew, Captain Kid?" you echoed, your voice thoughtful. "Your ambition is…unmistakable. And your resolve…commendable." A fleeting hint of something akin to understanding flickered in your eyes. The desire to carve one's own path in this chaotic world was a sentiment you could, on some level, appreciate.

However, the thought of fully aligning yourself with such a volatile and openly confrontational force gave you pause. Your nature was to remain in the shadows, to observe and interfere only when necessary. The Kid Pirates’ approach was anything but subtle.

"Your path," you continued, your gaze returning to Kid, "is one of open conflict. Mine…is more…circumspect." You offered no direct answer, neither a yes nor a no.

Without waiting for further prompting, you turned and began to walk away from the battlefield, your movements silent and purposeful. The Kid Pirates watched you go, their expressions a mixture of frustration and intrigue.

"Hey! Don't just walk away!" Kid bellowed after you, his metallic arm flexing angrily. "Are you in or out, weirdo?"

You paused for a moment, your back still to them. "The future," you said softly, your voice carried on the wind, "is rarely written in stone, Captain Kid. Perhaps our paths will cross again. Until then…"

And with that, you continued your departure, disappearing into the rugged landscape, leaving the Kid Pirates to ponder the enigmatic figure who had twice intervened in their affairs, offering immense power without the commitment of allegiance. The question of whether Y/N would ever join their ranks remained unanswered, a lingering mystery in their relentless pursuit of dominance.

——

A rare and volatile truce had descended upon a small, war-torn section of Onigashima. The Straw Hats, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates found themselves in a temporary, uneasy alliance against a common enemy – Kaido and his forces. The air was thick with the tension of three fiercely independent crews forced to cooperate, punctuated by the occasional snarky remark or outright argument between their headstrong captains.

Luffy, predictably, was the loudest, his booming laughter and demands for more food echoing through the ravaged landscape. Kid, arms crossed and a perpetual scowl etched on his face, traded insults with him, their personalities clashing like colliding metals. Law, ever the pragmatist, stood slightly apart, his gaze sharp as he surveyed their surroundings, trying to maintain a semblance of order in the chaotic assembly.

"Oi! Straw Hat! I told you not to eat all the damn rations!" Kid’s voice boomed, pointing a metallic finger accusingly at Luffy, who was happily stuffing his face with a large chunk of meat.

"Shishishi! But it's so good!" Luffy retorted, crumbs flying from his mouth.

"You two sound like children," Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have more pressing matters to attend to."

It was Zoro, his senses honed from years of navigating treacherous waters and hostile environments, who first noticed the distant figure. His one good eye narrowed as he spotted a solitary form moving with a quiet grace along the edge of a crumbling cliff face, some distance away from their makeshift camp.

"Hey," Zoro grunted, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji. "Look over there."

All eyes turned in the direction he indicated. Even Luffy and Kid momentarily ceased their bickering, their attention drawn by the unusual sight. There, silhouetted against the bruised twilight sky, was you. Your form was unmistakable, even at that distance, radiating a subtle aura of quiet power that seemed to ripple through the very air.

A hush fell over the assembled pirates. The Straw Hats exchanged curious glances, a flicker of recognition in their eyes. The Heart Pirates, especially Law, tensed, their memories of your sudden appearances and unsettling abilities still vivid. The Kid Pirates, particularly Kid himself, stared with a mixture of grudging respect and lingering intrigue.

"Well, well," Kid drawled, a sardonic smirk spreading across his face. "Looks like our favorite walking dust cloud decided to grace us with their presence again."

Luffy’s eyes widened, his usual grin returning. "Oh! It's the old-making person!" he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically despite the distance. "Hey! Y/N!"

Law’s gaze was more analytical, his hand unconsciously tightening on Kikoku. "What are they doing here?" he murmured, his voice low. "Another 'coincidence'?"

The three pirate crews, united by a common enemy but still wary of each other, now found their attention drawn to the mysterious figure in the distance. Your unexpected reappearance sparked a fresh wave of questions and uncertainties in the already volatile landscape of their temporary alliance. The enigma of Y/N, the impossibly strong stranger with the power of decay, continued to weave its way into their chaotic destinies.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembled pirates as they all recognized the distant figure. The Straw Hats chattered amongst themselves, recalling your brief presence in the dilapidated shrine. The Heart Pirates exchanged knowing glances, remembering your unexpected assistance in the forest. The Kid Pirates, led by their captain’s sardonic commentary, regarded you with a mixture of grudging respect and lingering curiosity.

It was Luffy’s innocent exclamation that inadvertently brought a surprising revelation to the forefront. “Hey! Y/N! You never said if you were gonna join my crew!” he called out, his voice echoing across the distance.

Kid scoffed. “Join your crew, Straw Hat? Don’t flatter yourself. They almost joined mine.” He turned to Law, a smug look on his face. “Right, Trafalgar? They helped us out too. Seemed like they were considering my offer.”

Law’s usual stoic composure flickered with a hint of surprise. “They…offered assistance to us as well,” he admitted, his gaze still fixed on your distant form. “And when I offered them sanctuary, they neither accepted nor refused.”

A stunned silence descended upon the three crews as the realization dawned on them. Each of the three formidable captains had, in their own way, extended an invitation to this mysterious individual, and in each instance, they had received a non-committal response.

Luffy’s jaw dropped. “Eh? You guys asked Y/N to join too?”

Kid’s smirk widened. “Looks like our silent friend here is playing the field.”

Law’s expression remained more guarded, his analytical mind already dissecting this new piece of information. The fact that you had piqued the interest of all three captains, each with their own distinct ambitions and formidable reputations, spoke volumes about the enigmatic power you possessed.

“They never actually said they’d join anyone,” Nami pointed out, her brow furrowed in thought. “They just…helped us out and then left.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t say no either!” Luffy insisted, ever the optimist.

“Hmph. Probably just playing hard to get,” Kid scoffed, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Law, however, seemed to grasp a deeper implication. “Their actions suggest a…disinclination towards permanent alliances,” he mused, his gaze thoughtful. “They intervene, offer assistance, but maintain their independence.”

The three crews continued to watch you in the distance, the realization that they were all vying, unknowingly, for the attention of this impossibly strong and elusive figure adding another layer of complexity to their already strained alliance. The mystery of Y/N, the silent force capable of wielding decay itself, had deepened, leaving the three ambitious captains to wonder about their true motives and ultimate allegiance.

The revelation that each captain had, in their own way, attempted to recruit you ignited a fresh wave of their characteristic bickering.

"Of course they'd want to join my crew!" Luffy declared, puffing out his chest. "We have the most fun!"

"Fun doesn't win you the Pirate King title, Straw Hat!" Kid retorted, his metallic arm gesturing emphatically. "They saw real ambition with my crew!"

"Ambition without strategy is mere recklessness," Law interjected coolly, pushing up his glasses. "I offered a pragmatic alliance, a means to navigate this treacherous land effectively."

Their voices rose, each captain vehemently arguing why their crew was the most logical choice for someone of your apparent caliber. Their respective crews could only watch, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on their faces.

"Honestly, they're acting like children fighting over a toy," Nami sighed, shaking her head.

"A very powerful and potentially dangerous toy," Zoro added, his gaze still occasionally flicking towards your distant figure.

Amidst the escalating argument, a soft, almost musical sound drifted across the ravaged landscape – a faint giggle. It was a sound that none of them had heard from you before, a delicate ripple in the tense atmosphere.

The arguing captains abruptly fell silent, their attention snapping back towards your distant form. You had paused on the cliff edge, your head tilted slightly, as if you had been listening to their boisterous debate. A faint smile played on your lips, the first genuine expression of amusement they had witnessed.

Your voice, when it finally carried across the distance, was soft yet clear, cutting through the lingering tension like a gentle breeze. "My, my," you said, a hint of playful mockery in your tone. "Such…enthusiasm. But forgive me, Captains. Who said I even wanted to join any of you?"

A stunned silence descended upon the three pirate crews. The realization dawned on them that they had all been so caught up in their own self-importance and the perceived value of your power that they hadn't even considered your own desires. The impossibly strong Y/N, the enigmatic figure they had all sought to recruit, might have no interest in becoming a subordinate to anyone. The power you wielded was your own, and your path, it seemed, was yours alone to choose. The three ambitious captains were left to ponder this humbling revelation, the air thick with a newfound sense of uncertainty.

The silence that followed your question was thick with a mixture of disbelief and wounded pride. The three formidable captains, used to having others clamor for a place in their ranks, seemed momentarily dumbfounded by the notion that you might not automatically desire to join their crew.

Luffy was the first to break the silence, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a look of genuine bewilderment. "Eh? You don't wanna join? But we're gonna be the Pirate King's crew! That's the coolest!"

Kid scoffed, his arms crossed. "Please. Joining the Straw Hats is a one-way ticket to getting into trouble for all the wrong reasons. Anyone with half a brain would see that joining the future ruler of the seas – my crew – is the obvious choice." He shot a disdainful look at Luffy.

Law sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "Neither of your approaches is particularly…persuasive. I offered a strategic alliance, a means to navigate the complexities of the New World with a higher chance of survival."

You watched their reactions with a detached amusement, a slight quirk in your lips hinting at the entertainment you were deriving from their squabbling. After a moment, you tilted your head, your gaze sweeping over the three of them.

"Interesting," you mused aloud, your voice carrying a playful lilt. "So, each of you believes your path to be the most…advantageous." You paused, your eyes twinkling slightly. "Tell me then…amongst the three of you…who is the strongest?"

The effect was instantaneous. The fragile truce shattered like glass.

"Me, of course!" Luffy declared, slamming a fist into his chest. "I'm gonna be the Pirate King! The strongest there is!"

"Don't make me laugh, Straw Hat!" Kid roared, his metallic arm crackling with energy. "My power will crush anyone who stands in my way! I'm the strongest of the Worst Generation!"

"Strength without precision is meaningless," Law countered coolly, his hand resting on Kikoku. "My Devil Fruit allows for abilities none of you can comprehend. True strength lies in control and strategy."

The argument erupted anew, each captain vying to prove their superiority. Luffy launched into a series of exaggerated tales of his past victories, Kid boasted about his magnetic prowess and unwavering ambition, while Law calmly explained the versatility and devastating potential of his Ope Ope no Mi.

Their crews could only watch the spectacle unfold, a familiar blend of pride and embarrassment on their faces.

"They never learn, do they?" Nami sighed, rubbing her temples.

"It's kind of…endearing in a weird way," Usopp chuckled nervously.

"Just try not to get caught in the crossfire," Zoro grunted, keeping a wary eye on the arguing captains.

You stood on the cliff edge, a genuine smile now gracing your features as you observed the chaotic display. The sheer ego and unwavering self-belief of these three powerful individuals were…fascinating. The question of who was truly the strongest remained unanswered, lost in the whirlwind of their competitive spirits. And as their bickering continued, one thing became clear: convincing you to join their ranks was proving to be a far more challenging endeavor than any of them had anticipated.

As the cacophony of the captains' ego-fueled debate reached a fever pitch, you moved with the practiced silence of a shadow. Amidst Luffy's boisterous claims, Kid's metallic clanging gestures, and Law's coolly delivered strategic pronouncements, your departure went completely unnoticed. The three ambitious pirates were far too engrossed in their self-proclaimed superiority to pay any heed to the enigmatic figure who had sparked their childish squabble.

You melted into the surrounding shadows, your movements fluid and effortless. The ravaged landscape of Onigashima, with its crumbling structures and uneven terrain, provided ample cover. You navigated the darkness with an innate sense of direction, the sounds of the arguing pirates fading behind you.

Hours later, under the inky expanse of the Wano night sky, you found a secluded spot. Perched atop a relatively undamaged rooftop overlooking a desolate section of the island, you sat alone, the cool night air whispering around you. The moon, a sliver of silver in the vast darkness, cast long, eerie shadows.

The sounds of the ongoing conflict, the distant clashes and explosions, were a muted symphony in the background. Here, away from the boisterous pirates and the immediate threat of Kaido's forces, a sense of quiet contemplation settled over you. The vastness of the night sky, dotted with distant stars, offered a perspective that dwarfed the petty squabbles and grand ambitions of the world below.

It wasn't long before your solitude was broken once more. The sounds of approaching footsteps, though light, were distinct in the stillness of the night. You didn't need to turn your head to know who it was. Their presence carried a unique energy, a blend of recklessness and unwavering determination.

Luffy emerged from the shadows, his silhouette framed against the faint moonlight. He approached you slowly, his usual boundless energy subdued by the quiet of the night. He sat down a respectful distance away, his gaze fixed on the starlit sky.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual boisterousness. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

You turned your head slightly, your gaze meeting Luffy's in the dim moonlight. There was a quiet curiosity in his eyes, a stark contrast to the boisterous energy he usually exuded. The night seemed to have a way of stripping away the usual bravado, revealing a more thoughtful side.

"Simply observing," you replied, your voice soft, barely disturbing the stillness of the night. "The stars offer a perspective that the chaos below often obscures."

Luffy was silent for a moment, his gaze returning to the sky. "They're pretty," he murmured. "We don't always get to see them so clearly."

Another comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sounds of battle. Then, Luffy spoke again, his tone more hesitant this time.

"You never really answered us," he said, his eyes flicking towards you and then back to the stars. "About joining our crew. Or Kid's. Or Law's."

You regarded him with a gentle gaze. "Each of you has a strong will, a clear ambition. Your paths are vibrant and full of…potential."

"But…you don't wanna join any of them?" Luffy asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"My path is…different," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "My touch…it carries a weight. A constant reminder of the impermanence of things. It is not always easy to walk alongside others when your very presence can accelerate their journey towards…the inevitable."

Luffy was silent for a long moment, seemingly contemplating your words. Then, he turned to you, a look of understanding dawning in his eyes.

"So…it's not that you don't like us?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice. "It's just…your power makes things…complicated?"

You offered a small, sad smile. "Something like that, Captain."

Luffy nodded slowly. "I get it," he said, though it was unlikely he fully grasped the weight of your burden. Yet, there was a genuine empathy in his tone. "Being strong can be lonely, huh?"

You met his gaze, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. For someone so seemingly carefree, Luffy possessed a surprising capacity for understanding.

"Sometimes," you admitted softly.

Luffy was silent again for a while, then a wide grin suddenly spread across his face, chasing away the contemplative mood. "But you're not alone now!" he declared, punching the air lightly. "We're all here! Even if you don't wanna join our crew, you're still…around, right?"

You regarded his infectious optimism, the way he could find light even in the darkest of circumstances. A genuine warmth spread through you, a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time.

"For now, Captain," you replied, a hint of a smile returning to your own lips. "For now, I am."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, watching the stars and listening to the distant sounds of the ongoing battle. The unspoken understanding between the seemingly carefree captain and the impossibly strong, solitary figure created a fragile bond under the vast expanse of the Wano night sky.

The quiet camaraderie under the starlit sky was soon broken by a familiar gruff voice. "Oi! Straw Hat! What do you think you're doing, sneaking off with our mysterious friend?"

Kid's imposing silhouette emerged from the shadows, his metallic arm gleaming in the moonlight. He approached you both, his crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion as he looked from Luffy to you.

"Don't think I didn't notice you disappearing during our…spirited debate," Kid continued, his gaze fixed on Luffy. "You're not trying to force them to join your ragtag bunch, are you?"

Luffy tilted his head, his innocent demeanor returning. "Force them? Nah! Y/N can do whatever they want!" He grinned at you. "Right?"

You nodded slowly. "Indeed, Captain. My choices are my own."

Kid's gaze remained sharp, his suspicion not entirely dispelled. "Still, you two look awfully chummy for someone who supposedly wants to be left alone." He shot a pointed look at you.

"We were just looking at the stars," Luffy explained simply, pointing upwards. "They're really pretty tonight."

Kid snorted. "Stars? You dragged our potential powerhouse recruit all the way out here to look at space rocks?"

"They have a name, you know," you interjected calmly, your gaze meeting Kid's. "And the vastness they represent is far more compelling than any fleeting ambition on this small island."

Kid's eyes narrowed further, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Oh, so you're taking their side now?"

"I am taking no one's side, Captain Kid," you replied evenly. "I merely offer a different perspective."

The tension between Luffy and Kid began to rise again, their competitive natures resurfacing.

"Y/N likes looking at the stars with me!" Luffy declared, puffing out his chest.

"They were probably just being polite," Kid scoffed. "Anyone with real vision can see that joining my crew is the smarter move."

Before another full-blown argument could erupt, a cool voice cut through the air. "What is going on here?"

Law emerged from the shadows, his figure cloaked in the darkness, Kikoku's hilt visible at his side. His sharp gaze swept over the three of you, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Some of us are trying to formulate a strategy to survive the night," Law continued, his eyes settling on Luffy and Kid. "Your incessant bickering is hardly conducive to that goal." He then turned his attention to you, his expression unreadable. "And you. I assumed you would have departed by now."

The three captains, each with their own agenda and vying for your attention in their own way, now found themselves in an awkward standoff under the watchful gaze of the night sky. The fragile alliance was once again strained, the enigmatic Y/N inadvertently becoming a point of contention between the ambitious leaders.

The tense standoff was abruptly broken by a sharp intake of breath and a muffled grunt. The section of the rooftop where you had been sitting crumbled silently beneath you, the aged and weakened material finally succumbing to the subtle, passive influence of your Devil Fruit. You plummeted downwards, landing with a less-than-graceful thud on a lower, more stable section of the dilapidated building.

A small cloud of dust billowed around you as you pushed yourself up, a grimace etched on your face. "Damn it," you muttered, brushing off the decaying remnants of the rooftop. "I hate this ability." The words were spoken more to yourself than to the bewildered pirates above.

The three captains stared down at you, their earlier animosity momentarily forgotten in the face of this unexpected display of your uncontrolled power.

Luffy's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa! What happened?"

Kid's brow furrowed. "The hell was that? Did you just…make the roof fall apart?"

Law's gaze was sharp and analytical, his earlier irritation replaced by a renewed sense of caution. He observed the crumbling section of the rooftop, his mind already piecing together the implications of your ability's passive effect.

"It seems your power is more…pervasive than we initially understood," Law stated, his voice low and thoughtful. "It affects even inanimate objects through prolonged proximity?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It's…subtle. I can control the intensity with direct touch, but there's always a residual effect. Prolonged contact…or even just being in close proximity for an extended period…can accelerate decay in fragile materials." You scowled. "It makes finding a comfortable place to sit a constant challenge."

The unintentional display of your uncontrolled ability served as a stark reminder of the burden you carried. The immense power that made you such a potential asset also made close interaction a constant risk. The three ambitious captains, who had been so eager to recruit you, were now faced with a tangible demonstration of the inherent difficulties of having you as an ally. The humor of their earlier squabble vanished, replaced by a renewed sense of the unpredictable and potentially dangerous nature of the individual before them.

The dust settled around you, a tangible manifestation of the destructive force you constantly had to manage. You looked up at the three captains, their expressions now a mixture of surprise and a dawning understanding.

"It's not just living things," you said, your voice carrying a weary resignation. "Everything I touch…eventually decays. Living, non-living…it’s a constant, subtle erosion. Makes close contact…difficult." The words hung in the air, carrying a weight that went beyond the literal decay of objects. It spoke of a life lived at arm's length, a fear of the inevitable consequence of intimacy.

Luffy, despite his usual boisterousness, was surprisingly quiet. He hopped down from the rooftop, landing softly beside you. His brow was furrowed in thought, his gaze surprisingly empathetic. "So…you gotta be careful all the time?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. He then grinned, his infectious optimism returning. "But that's okay! We're super careful! We'll build you special chairs made of really strong stuff! And you can wear gloves all the time! We'll figure it out! Being with us is always fun! We look out for our nakama!" His offer was simple, heartfelt, a promise of unwavering companionship and practical solutions, a shield against the loneliness your ability seemed to impose.

Kid scoffed, but his usual abrasive tone held a surprising undertone of something akin to understanding, perhaps born from his own experience of being feared and ostracized for his destructive powers. He jumped down, landing with a metallic thud. "Hmph. So you're a walking disaster zone. Big deal. The world's a messed-up place anyway. My crew…we don't shy away from a little destruction. We embrace the chaos. You wouldn't have to hold back with us. We're all outcasts in our own way. You'd find your own brand of freedom with the Kid Pirates. No need for tiptoeing around." His offer was one of acceptance, a promise of belonging amongst those who understood the burden of wielding dangerous power, a place where your ability wouldn't be a curse but a shared characteristic.

Law descended with his usual quiet grace, his sharp gaze assessing you with a newfound depth. "A constant state of controlled decay," he murmured, more to himself than the others. He then looked at you, his expression serious. "The Ope Ope no Mi…it grants the ability to manipulate the very structure of things. Perhaps…there are ways to mitigate the…unintended consequences of your fruit. My crew…we value knowledge and finding solutions to complex problems. We are not afraid of the unconventional. With us, you would have access to resources, to understanding. We offer not just companionship, but a dedicated pursuit of knowledge that could potentially alleviate your burden." His offer was one of intellectual stimulation and the promise of a cure, a path towards understanding and potentially overcoming the limitations of your devastating ability.

The three captains stood before you, their contrasting offers hanging in the night air. Luffy offered simple, unwavering friendship and practical support. Kid offered acceptance and a place amongst fellow outcasts who embraced destruction. Law offered intellectual pursuit and the potential for a solution to your lifelong burden. Each, in their own way, recognized the weight you carried and offered a unique form of solace within the chaotic world of pirates. The choice, as always, remained yours.

The weight of their unexpected empathy settled over you, a stark contrast to the isolation you had long accepted. Three powerful individuals, each with their own ambitions and flaws, offering a form of comfort you hadn't dared to imagine. The gruff acceptance of Kid, the earnest optimism of Luffy, and the intellectual curiosity of Law – each tugged at a different part of you.

You looked from one to the other, a profound sense of…something akin to hope stirring within you, a feeling so unfamiliar it almost felt like a phantom limb twitching. For so long, your ability had been a wall, separating you from genuine connection. Now, these three captains, in their own flawed yet sincere ways, were offering to dismantle that barrier.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. "Your offers…they are…unexpected," you admitted, your voice carrying a tremor of emotion. "I have lived with this…burden…for so long. The thought of…not having to constantly fear a casual touch…it is…difficult to comprehend."

You looked down at your hands, the source of both immense power and profound isolation. "Everything I touch…eventually decays," you repeated, the words carrying a deeper resonance now, tinged with the longing for a different reality.

The three captains remained silent, allowing you to process the moment. The boisterous rivalry that had defined their interactions earlier had faded, replaced by a shared understanding of the unique predicament you faced.

Finally, you raised your gaze, meeting each of theirs in turn. "I…I need time to consider this," you said, your voice still hesitant but firm. "This…is not a decision to be made lightly. My presence…it carries consequences."

Luffy grinned, his usual optimism undeterred. "Take all the time you need! We'll be here!"

Kid grunted in agreement, though his expression was less overtly enthusiastic. "Just don't take too damn long. The world ain't gonna wait for you to make up your mind."

Law simply nodded, his gaze steady and understanding. "A prudent decision. We will respect your need for contemplation."

The tension in the night air eased slightly. The immediate conflict with Kaido's forces still loomed large, but for this brief moment, a different kind of connection had been forged under the starlit sky of Wano. The impossibly strong Y/N, the solitary figure burdened by their own power, was no longer entirely alone. The seeds of potential belonging, however fragile, had been sown. The choice of which path, if any, to take remained shrouded in the uncertainty of the future.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Choice of straw hats

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The weight of the night's quiet revelations lingered into the dawn. The ravaged landscape of Onigashima was bathed in the pale light of the rising sun, a stark contrast to the turmoil that still gripped the island. You had spent the remaining hours in quiet contemplation, the words of the three captains echoing in your mind. The prospect of companionship, of a life where your touch wasn't a constant source of fear, was a powerful lure.

The next day, as the Straw Hats gathered to plan their next move, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows. You approached them, your usual quiet demeanor carrying a subtle shift, a hint of a decision made.

"Captain Luffy," you said, your gaze meeting his. "I…I am going to stay with you. I think."

Luffy's eyes widened, his face breaking into a grin that could rival the rising sun. "Really?!" he exclaimed, his usual boundless energy returning in a joyous surge. "Shishishi! That's awesome!" He took an instinctive step forward, his hand outstretched to clap you on the shoulder, a gesture of pure, unadulterated joy.

Before his fingers could make contact, you instinctively recoiled, taking a quick step back. A shadow of your usual guardedness flickered across your face. "Captain…my touch…" you began, a note of apology in your voice.

Luffy froze, his outstretched hand suspended in mid-air. The realization dawned on him, the memory of the withered Beast Pirate and the crumbling rooftop a stark reminder. His grin faltered for a fleeting moment, replaced by a look of understanding.

"Oh," he said softly, his hand dropping back to his side. "Right. I forgot." A beat of silence passed, and then his grin returned, even wider than before, somehow undimmed by the physical barrier. "It's okay!" he declared, his voice full of his characteristic optimism. "We can figure it out! No touching rule for me! Easy peasy!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, his excitement palpable.

"I…I apologize, Captain," you murmured, a wave of guilt washing over you. The very person who had offered you such unconditional acceptance was the one you had to keep at a distance.

Luffy waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it! It's your power, right? It's cool! Super strong! We just gotta be a little careful, that's all!" He bounded closer, stopping just out of arm's reach, his eyes shining with genuine affection. There was a warmth in his gaze, an unadulterated admiration that went beyond your strength. He liked you. A lot. An instinctive pull, a sense of rightness whenever you were near, resonated within him, a feeling so new and powerful he couldn't quite name it, but it felt…good. Like finding his favorite meat after a long journey.

The rest of the Straw Hats watched the exchange with a mixture of relief and concern. They were glad you had chosen to stay, recognizing the immense power you brought, but the inherent danger of your touch was not lost on them.

Nami stepped forward cautiously. "Luffy, are you sure about this? We need to be careful. One wrong move…"

Luffy just grinned, his gaze fixed on you. "Don't worry, Nami! I'm rubber! Nothing can hurt me!" He paused, then added with a disarming sincerity, "Besides…Y/N wouldn't hurt us. I can tell."

Zoro grunted, leaning against a nearby wall. "Just try not to turn our ship into a pile of splinters."

Robin smiled gently. "Welcome aboard, Y/N. We are…an unconventional crew, but we value our nakama above all else. We will find a way to navigate this."

You looked at the Straw Hats, their faces a mixture of curiosity and acceptance. Despite the obvious challenges your ability presented, they were willing to welcome you, to find a way to make it work. A warmth spread through you, a feeling of belonging you had never truly experienced before.

"Thank you," you said softly, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips. "I…I will do my best to be careful."

Luffy's grin widened even further, his chest swelling with a feeling he couldn't quite place, a warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he looked at you. He wanted to be closer, to share his food, to laugh alongside you. He just…felt good when you were around. He didn't understand the depth of it yet, the way his heart did a little flip whenever you looked his way, the almost painful longing to bridge the physical gap your power created. All he knew was that having you here, with them, felt right.

"Alright!" Luffy declared, clapping his hands together. "Let's go kick Kaido's butt! With Y/N on our side, we're unstoppable!" He turned to you, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Ready to go, Y/N?"

Choice of Kid pirates

The weight of their offers lingered in the quiet of the night. You spent the remaining hours in silent contemplation, the distant sounds of the battle a muted backdrop to your internal struggle. The thought of truly belonging, of not having to constantly guard against the unintended consequences of your touch, was both terrifying and alluring. Each captain offered a different facet of what you had unknowingly craved: acceptance, camaraderie, purpose.

As the first rays of dawn painted the ravaged sky in hues of orange and grey, a decision, still fragile but firm, began to take root. The raw, untamed energy of the Kid Pirates, their defiant stance against the world, and the surprising flicker of understanding in Kid’s crimson eyes resonated with a part of you that had long been suppressed. The idea of embracing the chaos, rather than constantly fighting against it, held a certain rebellious appeal. And perhaps, just perhaps, in their company, your destructive power wouldn't always feel like such a solitary curse.

The next day, as the three allied pirate crews gathered once more, a murmur rippled through the assembled ranks. Standing amongst the familiar, punk-inspired attire of the Kid Pirates, was you. You stood slightly behind Kid, your presence still carrying that air of quiet power, but there was a subtle shift in your demeanor, a hint of a newfound…belonging?

Kid, for his part, stood a little straighter, a rare, almost possessive smirk playing on his lips. He didn't make a grand announcement, didn't need to. Your presence amongst his crew spoke volumes.

You stepped forward slightly, your gaze meeting the surprised eyes of Luffy and the more analytical stare of Law. "I have made a decision," you stated, your voice clear and steady. "I am going to stay with you." Your eyes flickered briefly to Kid, a subtle acknowledgment passing between you.

A wide grin erupted on Luffy's face. "Shishishi! You chose someone!" He looked slightly disappointed it wasn't him, but his inherent good nature prevented any real resentment. "Have fun with the metal guy!"

Law’s expression remained impassive, though a flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes. "I see. Your choice is…intriguing." He offered a curt nod, his pragmatism likely already assessing the implications of this new alliance.

The Kid Pirates, however, erupted in cheers and boisterous shouts of approval. Killer, ever the stoic first mate, offered a rare nod of acknowledgment. The crew seemed to sense their captain’s unspoken…affection…for you, a possessiveness that had been evident in his initial interactions.

Later that day, aboard the Victoria Punk, as the Kid Pirates navigated the treacherous waters surrounding Onigashima, you found yourself leaning against the railing, the salty wind whipping through your hair. Kid approached you, his usual gruff exterior softened ever so slightly.

"So," he began, shoving his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "You actually decided to stick around. Didn't think you had it in you to commit." There was a teasing edge to his voice, but underneath, a layer of genuine…something…flickered.

You turned to him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Commitment was never the issue, Captain. It was finding a place where…my touch…wasn't always a liability."

Kid’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, the usual arrogance in his crimson eyes softened, replaced by something that could almost be described as…tenderness. He cleared his throat, looking away again, a rare blush dusting his cheeks.

"Well," he mumbled, his voice gruffer than usual. "Don't think this means I'm going soft or anything. You're just…another strong asset. That's all." But the way his crew exchanged knowing glances behind his back told a different story. The notoriously aloof Captain Eustass Kid had clearly developed a significant…attachment…to the mysterious and powerful Y/N. And as the Victoria Punk sailed towards an uncertain future in the tumultuous seas of Wano, a new and unpredictable dynamic had been forged within the ranks of the Kid Pirates.

Choice of the Heart Pirates

The night gave way to a tense dawn over Onigashima. The fragile truce between the three pirate crews held, a silent understanding that the common enemy took precedence, for now. You spent the early hours in quiet contemplation, the weight of the previous night's revelations pressing down on you. The sincerity in the captains' offers had been unexpected, stirring emotions you had long suppressed.

The following day unfolded with a strained sense of normalcy. Scouting parties were dispatched, strategies were discussed (and often vehemently debated), and the uneasy alliance continued its precarious dance. You found yourself observing Law and his crew more closely. Their movements were precise, their interactions efficient, and a quiet camaraderie permeated their ranks. There was a sense of purpose that resonated with the part of you that yearned for order amidst the chaos of your own existence. Law, in particular, held an air of intellectual curiosity and a detached intensity that intrigued you. He treated you with a respectful distance, never pressing for an answer but his gaze often lingered on you, a thoughtful, almost searching quality in his dark eyes.

One afternoon, as the sun beat down on the ravaged landscape, Law found you perched on a relatively stable rooftop, observing the distant movements of Kaido's forces. He approached you with his usual quiet grace.

"You seem…contemplative," he observed, leaning against a crumbling wall beside you.

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. "The weight of decision…it is not easily dismissed."

Law was silent for a moment, then spoke in a low voice. "The burden of your ability…it is significant. To live with such a constant threat…it must be isolating."

His quiet understanding resonated with you in a way the more boisterous reassurances of Luffy or the rough acceptance of Kid had not. There was a shared sense of carrying a heavy weight, albeit in different forms.

"It is," you admitted, finally turning to meet his gaze. "The world…it withers in my presence, however subtly. Connection…it feels like a dangerous indulgence."

Law's gaze held yours, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "But you still seek it," he stated, not as a question, but as an observation. "Otherwise, you would have departed long ago."

His insight surprised you. You had always prided yourself on your inscrutability, yet this man seemed to see a vulnerability you had carefully guarded.

"Perhaps," you conceded, a faint whisper of a word.

He was silent again, then offered a small, almost hesitant smile. "My crew…we are a peculiar bunch. Misfits, each with their own burdens. But we have found a sense of belonging, a shared purpose. Perhaps…you could find something similar with us. We value intellect, strategy, and…compassion, in our own way."

His words, coupled with the quiet competence and unexpected warmth you had observed within the Heart Pirates, resonated deeply. The promise of understanding, of a shared intellectual curiosity, and the subtle hint of acceptance offered a potential anchor in your otherwise solitary existence.

The next day, as the three captains were once again embroiled in a heated (and rather childish) argument about whose plan to infiltrate Kaido's fortress was superior, you made your decision. You approached Law, your steps deliberate.

"Captain Trafalgar," you said, your voice clear and steady.

He turned to you, his usual guarded expression softening slightly with anticipation. Luffy and Kid, mid-shout, also fell silent, their attention drawn to your unexpected address.

"I have considered your offer," you continued, meeting Law's gaze directly. "I will join your crew."

A subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurred in Law's demeanor. His eyes, usually so carefully controlled, held a flicker of something akin to relief, quickly masked but not entirely hidden from your observant gaze. A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

"I see," he said, his voice calm but with an underlying note of satisfaction. "Welcome aboard."

Luffy and Kid stared, their mouths agape. "Eh?! You chose Law's crew?!" they exclaimed in unison, their competitive spirits clearly wounded.

You offered them a small, polite nod. "Each of your offers held merit. But I believe…my abilities and my…inclinations…align most closely with Captain Trafalgar's crew."

As the Straw Hats and Kid Pirates grumbled amongst themselves, Law turned to his crew, a subtle air of authority settling over him. "We have a new member. Treat them with respect." His words were simple but carried an unspoken weight.

Life with the Heart Pirates settled into a rhythm, a blend of strategic planning, medical expertise, and quiet camaraderie. You found a sense of purpose in contributing your unique perspective and formidable abilities to their endeavors. Law, while maintaining a professional distance in public, often sought your counsel in private, his sharp intellect appreciating your insightful observations. He ensured you had comfortable, reinforced spaces, and the crew, under his unspoken directive, were mindful of your touch.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the Heart Pirates (and certainly to Luffy and Kid), Law harbored a deeper affection for you than mere camaraderie. From the moment his gaze had first lingered on your still, powerful form in the Wano tavern, an inexplicable pull had taken root. He was a man of logic and strategy, not given to impulsive emotions, yet something about your quiet strength and the melancholic aura that surrounded you had resonated with him on a profound level. He admired your intellect, the subtle power you wielded with such careful control, and the hidden vulnerability you occasionally revealed. He kept these feelings carefully guarded, masked beneath his usual stoic exterior, content for now to have you by his side, a silent promise of deeper connection held within the confines of his own complex heart. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with peril, but with you by his side, a quiet hope bloomed within the Surgeon of Death.

Masterlist

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hy6erion · 2 months ago

Note

Well you asked for more jayce requests and who am I to deny such magic words. My thoughts, and as always do with them whatever you want, whenever you want: an experiment goes wrong (a chemical spill?) and now reader and jayce need to quarantine for like 72h or something. Issue is, jayce has beens doing his absolute best to avoid reader and keep his feelings unknown.

I feel like I've only ever requested absolute filth for jayce here so maybe this can just be fluff or something. (Not that I think anyone would complain if you ended up writing smut tho 🤷‍♀️)❤️❤️

~🍒

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐛 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝟕𝟐-𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞--𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬.

PART I: The Spill

The morning started like most did at the Academy — too bright, too loud, and too damn early. You hadn’t even had a sip of your coffee before the lab’s alarm system blared, shrill and merciless, splitting your skull in two.

The red lights above flickered. “BIOHAZARD ALERT” scrolled across the panel screen. You barely registered the warning before the heavy blast doors sealed shut behind you with a clang, trapping you inside Lab 3. You turned, heart hammering.

And there he was.

Jayce Talis.

Of course.

You could see the moment his eyes registered you — the flicker of surprise, the twitch in his jaw, the way his posture stiffened like he’d just been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Shit” he muttered under his breath.

You were inclined to agree.

You hadn’t even been supposed to be in Lab 3. It had been a mistake — Professor Heimerdinger had sent you to grab the backup prototypes for your upcoming Hextech stability project. And Jayce… well, judging by the shattered flask at his feet and the strange violet mist curling from the crack in the tile, he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence sat between you, heavy with history. You stared at him. Jayce stared at the chemical reaction eating into the floor like acid. The air hummed with tension — scientific and otherwise.

Then the overhead comm crackled. A cold, mechanical voice filled the air:

“Biohazard contamination detected. Full quarantine in effect. Estimated isolation time: 72 hours.”

Your stomach sank.

Jayce ran a hand down his face and turned toward the observation window, but it had already sealed with reinforced steel. “Shit. Shit. This isn’t— I didn’t mean for—”

He glanced back at you, his expression unreadable. “Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Physically? Sure. Emotionally? I might scream.”

That earned the barest twitch of a smile from him — but just as fast, it vanished.

Jayce looked back at the mess, then grabbed a nearby tablet and began scanning the composition of the mist. You stepped toward the console, careful not to inhale near the chemical burn site.

“Do we even know what that was?” you asked, trying to stay calm. “It looks volatile.”

“It’s… new,” Jayce muttered, brows furrowed. “It was a prototype reagent. Meant to bond Hex crystals with biological tissue. I didn’t think it was unstable enough to react to open air.”

“You tested something experimental alone in a lab without a control team?”

His jaw tensed, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to replicate an earlier result—”

“And now we’re locked in together. For three days.”

The unspoken part of that sentence hung heavily in the air: You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.

PART II: The Avoidance Problem

Jayce hadn’t always avoided you. In fact, when you’d first joined the Academy as a postgrad researcher, he’d been warm. Attentive. A little cocky, sure — but always kind. He’d bring you late-night coffee. Compliment your formulas. Talk to you about your goals, your dreams.

You’d even caught him staring, once or twice. And you hadn’t minded. You’d stared back.

But then something shifted. A few months ago, he’d started pulling away. First, it was subtle: he’d leave the lab before you arrived. Then he stopped replying to your messages about joint projects. Eventually, he wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

No explanation. No fight. Just distance.

You told yourself you didn’t care. You focused on your work. But seeing him now — tall, broad-shouldered, and still so infuriatingly handsome in a rumpled lab coat — made your stomach twist.

“So“ you said finally, arms crossed. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Jayce didn’t look up from his tablet. “Talk about what?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You laughed, sharp and humorless. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious, even before this little chemical incident.”

He finally looked up — and he looked tired. Not physically. Something deeper. There were shadows beneath his eyes and something pinched in the corners of his mouth. Guilt? Frustration?

“I’m sorry“ he said quietly.

You blinked.

That wasn’t what you expected.

“I’m sorry“ he said again, voice low. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just… I didn’t trust myself.”

“…What?”

Jayce’s hand tightened around the edge of the table. “You were getting too close.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “And that’s… bad?”

“Yes“ he said. Then, more softly, “Because I don’t know how to want something without breaking it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

PART III: Quarantine Begins

The first few hours passed in stilted silence. The lab’s ventilation system had kicked in, filtering the air and reducing the chemical fog to a safe level — but the doors remained sealed.

You’d each claimed a corner of the lab, like two cats refusing to share a room. You worked at the console. Jayce cleaned up the spill site and began scribbling down notes.

By nightfall, exhaustion set in. A small cot and supply stash had dropped from the wall — emergency protocol — and you took the cot while Jayce rolled out a floor mat. Still, the space was small. You couldn’t avoid each other completely.

“I didn’t want to make things weird“ he said into the dark, hours later.

You didn’t answer at first. Then: “You already did.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then his voice again, quieter this time.

“I liked you too much.”

You turned your head on the pillow. “Too much?”

“You made it hard to focus. I’d sit in the same room as you and forget what I was working on. I couldn’t look at you without thinking things I shouldn’t.”

You swallowed.

“And instead of dealing with it like an adult“ he continued, bitterly, “I just… distanced myself.”

“And how’s that been working out for you?” you asked softly.

“Terribly.”

He laughed, a breathless little sound that felt more like a confession.

You rolled onto your side, watching the silhouette of him in the dim red emergency light. His shoulders were curled inward. Like he’d been holding the weight of this in his chest for too long.

“You idiot“ you whispered.

His head turned. “What?”

“You could’ve just said something.”

PART IV: No More Running

The second day of quarantine passed slower. You worked together — actually worked, for once — comparing scans and running simulations to predict the long-term effects of the exposure. Jayce apologized properly, awkward but sincere, and you let some of your own walls come down.

Eventually, you laughed again together. Like old times.

By the evening, something had shifted again. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder at the console, scrolling through data, and Jayce’s thigh brushed yours. Neither of you moved.

“I missed this” he said quietly. “I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered.

You turned to face him — and found him already watching you. His expression was open, vulnerable. None of that practiced confidence you’d seen him flash at professors or crowds. Just Jayce. Honest, a little scared, and undeniably warm.

“You don’t have to avoid things that make you feel“ you said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not weakness.”

Jayce looked at you like you’d said something profound. Then, suddenly, he leaned in.

You could’ve stopped him. You didn’t.

His lips were soft. Hesitant. Like he was waiting for you to pull away. When you didn’t, his hand came up to cradle your jaw, the warmth of him seeping into your skin.

The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, like he was starving for something he’d denied himself for too long.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his.

“Three days in quarantine” you murmured. “This could get dangerous.”

Jayce smiled — a real, radiant smile — and brushed his nose against yours. “Too late.”

PART V: 72 Hours

The final day was a blur.

You worked. You laughed. You kissed, when you could steal the moment. Jayce held your hand while you reviewed the chemical logs, and when the moment came — when the containment door finally released with a hiss and the hallway outside blinked into view — you didn’t rush to leave.

Instead, you looked at him.

And Jayce looked at you like he had no intention of running ever again.

“You know” he said, shouldering his satchel, “we could tell them the air still isn’t safe. Lock the lab again. Buy ourselves another 24 hours.”

You grinned. “Tempting.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“Next time” he whispered, “I’m not waiting for a containment breach to kiss you.”

#✰⍣ 𝐡𝐲𝟔𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 #🍒 requests #arcane x reader #x reader #jayce talis arcane #arcane jayce x reader #jayce arcane x reader #jayce talis x reader #jayce arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce x reader #jayce x viktor

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fannedandflawless · 2 months ago

Text

Snape’s Weekly Self-Care Plan

(Because rest is for the weak and joy is optional.)

Monday – Glare at Gryffindors with renewed spite.

Tuesday – Brew something volatile. Watch it simmer. Relate.

Wednesday – Annotate student essays with cruelty disguised as critique.

Thursday – Avoid Slughorn. Succeed. Avoid feelings. Succeed harder.

Friday – Sip tea darker than your future.

Saturday – Pace the dungeons in full robes for no reason.

Sunday – Meditate. By which I mean: judge people internally for hours.

#self care but make it mean #judging is cardio #emotional regulation through potions #severus snape #hogwarts professors #harry potter #snape fan content #potions master #slytherin supremacy #spinner's end #snape fandom #fanned and flawless #snape meme #hogwarts

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lxndonorris · 6 months ago

Text

games - Franco Colapinto

Y/N x Franco Colapinto Theme: Smutty, Teasing, Touching playing teasing games with Franco word count: 3520+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 open for requests :)

The hum of the paddock was always the same. Mechanics bustled between the garages, engineers huddled over laptops, and the faint smell of burnt rubber and motor oil lingered in the air.

It was race weekend, and as a member of Williams' strategy department, your mind was consumed with tire degradation rates, fuel calculations, and weather forecasts.

This weekend was different, though; Franco Colapinto had been brought in as a replacement for the remainder of the season. It wasn't uncommon for drivers to shuffle in and out, but his arrival left you with mixed feelings.

While his talent was undeniable, his presence also underscored the volatility of the sport.

One moment you're on top; the next, you're replaced.

You tried to keep your head down and focus on your work, but Franco had other ideas.

From the moment he stepped into the Williams garage, he exuded confidence—maybe too much. His charming smile seemed to disarm everyone around him, and his jokes quickly won over the mechanics.

You wanted to be immune to it. After all, you weren't here to be dazzled by a driver; you were here to perform as best as possible.

Still, there was something about his energy that made him hard to ignore.

Friday morning was spent poring over practice session data. By the time the clock struck noon, you were desperate for a break. Slipping away from the chaos, you found a quiet corner of the hospitality area. The cool breeze and a cup of coffee were all you needed to reset your mind.

But, of course, that peace was short-lived.

"Found you," came a smooth voice from behind.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Franco had a knack for making his presence known.

"What do you want, Colapinto?" You asked, keeping your tone neutral as you sipped your coffee.

"Is that how you greet all our teammates?" He teased, sliding into the chair across from you.

He didn't wait for an invitation, naturally.

"I'm not sure we're teammates," you countered, setting your cup down. "You're here to drive; I'm here to strategize."

"Semantics," he said with a shrug. "We're both here for the same goal, aren't we?"

His casual confidence was maddening, but you refused to let it get under your skin.

"Did you need something, or are you just here to disrupt my break?"

He grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Maybe I just wanted to get to know you better. You seem... interesting."

"Interesting?" You echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's vague."

"Charming, sharp, beautiful. Should I go on?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"Flattery doesn't work on me."

"Oh, I don't believe that for a second," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. "But if it doesn't, I'll just have to try harder."

It was infuriating how effortlessly he pushed your buttons. And yet, you couldn't deny the thrill of it.

If he wanted to play this game, you'd make sure you won.

Careful, Franco," you said, letting your fingers brush over his arm as you stood. "You don't want to bite off more than you can chew."

His breath hitched just barely—a subtle reaction, but one you didn't miss. He tilted his head, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think I can handle it."

"Good luck, then," you said, walking away before he could respond.

---

The day went on, and you managed to avoid Franco for the most part. But by the time the evening rolled around, you found yourself thinking about your brief encounter.

He was charming, funny, and annoyingly attractive. And yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that getting involved with him was a bad idea. He was a temporary replacement, after all. What was the point in letting yourself get tangled up in something that might not last?

But Franco wasn't the type to give up easily.

---

Saturday morning brought more practice sessions and strategy meetings. You were buried in data when Franco strolled into the engineering office, his helmet tucked under one arm.

"You look busy," he said, leaning casually against the desk.

"I am," you replied without looking up.

"Maybe I can help," he offered, his tone playful.

"Unless you've suddenly become an expert in race strategy, I doubt it."

"I might surprise you," he said, stepping closer.

You glance up at him, your lips curving into a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sure you're full of surprises."

His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to crackle. Then, just as quickly, you returned your focus to the laptop in front of you, leaving him standing there.

But Franco wasn't one to be ignored. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear.

"You know, if you keep teasing me like this, I might start to think you enjoy it."

You turned to face him, your faces inches apart.

"And if I do?"

His grin widened. "Then I'd say we're going to have a lot of fun."

With that, he straightened up and walked away, leaving you to wonder what exactly you'd gotten yourself into.

---

A few hours later, the buzz of post-qualifying energy filled the air as team members analyzed data and discussed strategies for the race.

The car had shown steady performance, and Franco had managed to secure P13—a good result considering the car's limitations this season and his inexperience with it all.

You sat in the corner of the engineering office, reviewing telemetry and tire degradation patterns when the door swung open, revealing Franco. His white racing suit clung to him, the logos proudly displayed on his chest. His hair was damp, slightly tousled from the helmet, and a faint sheen of sweat made him look effortlessly rugged.

"P13," he announced with a grin, his voice bright as he strode into the room. "Not bad for the new guy, huh?"

You glance up from your screen and nodded.

"Not bad at all. You might even be worth keeping around."

His grin widened as he leaned against the desk beside you.

"High praise coming from you. I was beginning to think I'd never win you over."

"You still haven't," you said, letting your lips curve into a smirk. "But you're off to a decent start."

He chuckled, his dark eyes locked on yours.

"I'll take that as a challenge."

As the room cleared out, people heading off to dinner or more meetings, Franco lingered. His teasing continued, lighthearted at first, but his words grew bolder with each exchange.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I think you like having me around more than you let on."

"And why would you think that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you're still here talking to me instead of running off like everyone else," he said, his tone smug. "Admit it—you’re intrigued."

You leaned back in your chair, studying him.

"Intrigued? Maybe, impressed? Not quite."

His laugh was soft, and he leaned in closer, his arms crossed as he rested them on the desk.

"You're tough to crack, you know that?"

"Maybe you're just not trying hard enough," you shot back, your tone playful.

Beneath the table, an idea crossed your mind.

Without a word, you let your foot drift toward him. Slowly, deliberately, you dragged the tip of your shoe along his calf. You felt him tense ever so slightly, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second before returning, sharper than before.

His eyes darkened, but he played it cool.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play?" he murmured.

You didn't respond, instead letting your foot continue its slow journey up his leg, brushing over his knee and toward his thigh. His breathing quickened, though he did his best to hide it. When your foot reached just beneath the edge of his suit, you stopped, withdrawing just enough to leave him wanting more.

"You were saying?" you asked, your voice innocent.

He cleared his throat, his grin never fading.

"I think you're enjoying this even more than I am."

You tilted your head, feigning indifference.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"How about we find out?"

Your heart skipped, but you kept your composure.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Meet me later," he said, his words deliberate. "My motorhome."

For a moment, you let the suggestion hang in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Then, with a coy smile, you leaned back in your chair.

"We'll see."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he stood. In one swift motion, he unzipped his suit just enough to grant you a glimpse of the blue fireproofs beneath.

"You're going to drive me crazy, aren't you?"

"Only if you're lucky," you replied, watching as he walked away.

As the door closed behind him, you exhaled deeply, your mind racing. You didn't want to admit it, but the thought of meeting him sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore.

---

An hour later, you found yourself standing outside Franco's motorhome, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. Your heart was pounding. Was this the right decision? Yet, something about him—his charm, his confidence, his maddening ability to make you second-guess everything—had drawn you here.

You knocked, the sound feeling louder than it should in the quiet paddock. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was.

Franco stood in the doorway, still in his racing gear, the upper half loosely hanging down around his waist. The tight blue Nomex undershirt clung to his chest and arms, highlighting every contour. His hair was still slightly damp, and his grin was as infuriatingly cocky as ever.

"You came," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his voice laced with amusement.

"You invited me," you replied, your tone light but guarded.

"And I didn't think you'd actually show up," he admitted, stepping aside to let you in. "Come on, make yourself comfortable."

You hesitated for only a second before stepping into the motorhome. It was cozy, the space designed for function but with enough personal touches to make it feel lived-in. A small table and couch sat to one side, a kitchenette on the other. The faint scent of something fresh—maybe soap—lingered in the air.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you turned to find Franco watching you, his arms crossed and that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips.

"Not bad," you said, glancing around. "I expected it to be messier."

He chuckled, stepping closer.

"What can I say? I like to keep things in order. Well, most things."

You raised an eyebrow. "And the things you don't?"

"Those tend to be more fun," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken again.

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"And you're impossible to ignore," he countered, closing the distance between you.

The teasing back-and-forth began almost immediately. His fingers brushed against your back as he passed you, a casual touch that sent shivers down your spine.

You retaliated by letting your hand linger on his arm, tracing the toned muscle beneath the fabric. His grin only widened.

"You're not making this easy," he said, his voice low.

"Good," you replied, leaning against the small table. "I wouldn't want to."

He moved closer, his eyes searching yours as he rested his hands on either side of you, caging you in without actually touching you.

"You're going to drive me insane," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips.

"Maybe that's the point."

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension. Slowly, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. Your heart raced, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your back again, this time more deliberate, more lingering.

You let your hand slide up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. Your fingers drifted to his shoulders, then down his arms, before finally brushing over his thigh.

His breath hitched, his composure faltering ever so slightly, and you knew you had him.

But just as his lips were about to meet yours, you pulled away, stepping aside with a teasing smile.

"Not so fast," you said, your voice light and playful.

His eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

"You're cruel, you know that?"

"Am I?" You ask innocently, though the gleam in your eyes betrayed you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mingled with amusement.

"You're going to be the death of me."

You shrugged, moving toward the couch and sitting down, crossing one leg over the other.

"Maybe. But you'll enjoy every second of it."

Franco stood there for a moment, his hands on his hips, as if deciding whether to let you win this round. Finally, he let out a breath, his smirk returning.

"You're trouble," he said, joining you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours. "And I like it."

You lean closer, your voice a whisper.

"You have no idea."

The air between you felt electric, the tension thick as you leaned in just enough to close the distance without actually touching him.

Franco stayed still, watching you with a mix of amusement and anticipation. His restraint was admirable, but you could see the flicker of desire in his eyes.

He knew you were playing with him, and yet he let you—whether it was curiosity, confidence, or sheer temptation, you couldn't tell.

You let your hands roam over his chest, your fingers trailing along the lines of his toned muscles beneath the fabric of his Nomex shirt. His breath grew shallow, his chest rising and falling in time with the slow, deliberate movements of your hands.

You lingered at his collarbone, letting your fingers drift upward to his neck, where you caressed the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of a stubble grazing your fingertips.

With your other hand, you let your fingers slide down to his thigh, brushing over the firm muscle just barely. The touch was light, teasing, a mere whisper of contact that made him shift slightly under your hand.

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just watched you, his gaze dark and intense, as if daring you to push him further.

"You're quiet," you said softly, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw.

"You're in control," he replied, his voice rougher than usual, a low hum that sent a thrill down your spine. "For now."

The confidence in his tone made you smirk.

You let your fingers on his thigh press down a little more, moving in slow circles that barely grazed where you knew he wanted them. He shifted again, his composure slipping just enough to make your teasing worth it.

"Franco," you murmured, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his ear. "You're enjoying this too much."

He chuckled, the sound soft but strained.

"You don't know half of it."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still exploring his jawline while your other hand continued its slow, deliberate movements on his thigh.

His eyes were locked on yours, his restraint remarkable given the circumstances.

It was a game now—one you weren't sure either of you wanted to win.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that was soft but purposeful. He hesitated yet gave in, his hand moving to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss, his restraint giving way to the desire he'd been holding back.

The moment felt charged, every touch, every movement heightened by the tension that had been building between you.

Your hand on his thigh moved slightly, your fingers brushing against him just enough to draw a sharp intake of breath from him.

You smiled against his lips, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted. You let your touch linger, a faint stroke that sent a shiver through him.

When you finally pull back, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his breath shallow as he looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and frustration.

"Was that what you wanted?" you asked, your voice low, teasing.

He smirked, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"It's a start."

Your fingers, still on his thigh, pressed down a little more deliberately, tracing slow, deliberate circles over the firm muscle. He tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching just barely, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, a challenge glinting in the dark depths.

"Patience," you murmured, letting your fingers drift a little higher, teasingly brushing along the edge of where he wanted them most.

His jaw tightened, and you could feel the restraint it took for him to let you lead, to let you play this game.

"You're relentless," he whispered, his voice rough and low.

"Only because it's fun," you replied, your lips curving into a mischievous smile.

You leaned in again, letting your lips hover just over his, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against yours. At the same time, you let your fingers slide up his thigh once more, giving him the faintest, gentlest squeeze.

His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and you couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped you.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice tight, his control fraying at the edges.

You didn't answer, instead letting your hand linger, your touch slow and deliberate as you felt the tension coiling in him, the way his body reacted to every subtle movement.

Your other hand moved back to his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the tight, slightly damp fabric of his shirt, before sliding upward to cup his jaw.

His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and you took the opportunity to lean in, pressing your lips to his in another slow, lingering kiss.

This time, he didn't hold back.

His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a hunger that made your heart race. His other hand cupped your face, his fingers warm and steady against your skin.

But just as he was beginning to take control, you pulled back, breaking the kiss and pulling away from his touch. Your fingers trailed down his chest one last time before sliding back to his thigh, giving him one final squeeze.

You smirked as his eyes opened, dark and heavy with frustration and need.

"So much trouble. You're impossible," he said, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you replied, standing up slowly, letting your fingers linger on his thigh until the last possible moment. "But you're still letting me win."

He laughed softly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch.

At first, he exhaled and raised an arm, stroking the back of his head. The movement made his toned chest stand out even more, the fabric of his undershirt clinging to him as he stretched slightly, trying to shake off the tension you'd left behind.

"I'm letting you think you're winning."

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow, watching him closely.

As he leaned back against the sofa, his head resting against the cushions, he let out a long, steadying breath. His hand moved almost instinctively to his chest, following the path your fingers had traced moments before.

His fingers slid over the fabric of his nomex shirt, pressing lightly against his chest as though trying to capture the sensations you'd left behind.

His other hand drifted lower, brushing over his stomach and coming to rest near the visible strain inside his suit. His bulge was unmistakable, the tension evident even through the tightly fitted material.

"Oh, is that what you're telling yourself?"

He smirked, the heat in his eyes unwavering.

"You'll see."

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening as he let his hand hover over his bulge, his fingers flexing slightly.

It was as though he was chasing the lingering heat of your touch, replaying every teasing stroke, every deliberate squeeze in his mind.

The ghost of your fingers on his thigh, the press of your hand against his jaw, the softness of your lips—all of it hung in the air between you, even though you stood up.

He exhaled sharply, his hand brushing against the strain, his body responding to the memory of the game you'd just played. A low chuckle escaped his lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Next time, I'll make sure to win."

You laughed, stepping toward the door.

"Goodnight, Franco."

Goodnight," he called after you, his voice rich with amusement. As you slipped out of the motorhome and into the cool night air, you couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

This was a game you weren't sure either of you wanted to end.

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