Chapter Text
With so many runaways, injuries, and deaths after the battle of Marineford, the Whitebeard Pirates were left in disarray. You were doing your best to help Marco, whose taken up the burden of leading those who were left. It was obvious to everyone he was using this role as a way to avoid his grief, but with everything going wrong at once, no one pushed the issue. Not even you.
In the fallout you found yourself promoted from 4th division's navigator to collecting records on remaining whitebeard pirate territory, recovering and allocating treasure stashes, resource inventory and management, nursing, and occasional emotional-support-big-sister. It wasn't too much. You'd do anything for your family, for those who remained anyway.
This was the longest shit show of a year you'd ever lived. Pop's health was the elephant in the room no one wanted to talk about, but it weighed heavily on your heart. Then it was losing your commander Thatch. And then discovering your beloved brother Ace's capture by the marines thanks to the traitor you once called brother, Teach. The icing on bullshit cake was that fucking battle at Marineford. Just thinking about it pained your chest like a hateful hand was squeezing your heart.
Feeling sick, you threw down the journals you were logging in and leapt from the chair in your self-appointed office. The sharp clang of the chair falling over spooked you so bad you cursed, then cried quietly as you bent over to pick it up.
You wanted your brothers. You wanted your dad. You wanted everything back to the way it was. You wanted to turn back the clock to when your only fear was Ace stealing food from your plate. Watching the faces you made when eating Thatch's cooking. The fear of letting down Pops when he recognized your talent for navigation and promoted you. Shit, you even missed playing cards with Teach and worrying you wouldn't catch him when he cheated. Now the memory of their smiles, laughter, and hugs tasted like ash in your mouth as you wiped fresh tears from your cheeks. Looking over the haphazardly thrown logbooks, you decide it's time for a break and reach for a blanket and a chapter book.
A cozy little romance becoming your favorite story was not what you'd expected when you'd read it the first time a few years ago in the library of the Moby Dick. But being surrounded by real men day in and day out, even if they were your brothers, was draining. Whoever put this book in Pop's collection must have been feeling the same way and you'd like to think you honor them a little when you pleaded your case to Marco that, yes, the romance section of the library needed to be saved from the Moby too. The sugary sweet fantasies took you to a place where every challenge was beatable and a happy ending was guaranteed.
A glance at the clock showed it was well past time you tried to get some sleep anyway, but your nerves needed to calm way the hell down first, and you dim the lights before curling up on a bench and opening the book. You hadn't finished the chapter before there's a knock with the sound of the door opening then closing. You didn't look up when you said, "what's up?"
Marco's voice, dry but calm responds, "Haruta's back. Got some reports he was able to secure."
"Able?" That gets you to look up at the blood-stained papers rolled up in Marco's hand. "Oh, uh, thank you for bringing them to me. Is he ok?"
Marco clears a space and sets the reports down on your desk. He glances over the mess you'd left before replying, "yes, you don't have to worry about him. He's strong, it'll take more than a marine ambush to take Haruta out."
"You're telling me not to worry? Did you forget who you're talking to?" You reply with a soft laugh, and Marco cracks a smile at that.
"Oh yeah. You look very concerned for the crew over there cozied up with a book." His remark hit you in the wrong place, but every place was wrong right now. He walks over to you and snatches the book from your lap. He examines it and curls his nose at the cover.
"Reading a romance?" Marco chuckles as he flicks his wrist waving the book around.
His laugh grates on your teeth. You spit back, "I'm trying to keep my mind off the fucked shit that's going on for like 5 seconds so I can sleep, unlike you Marco. So don't fucking judge me." You get up to swipe the book from his hand, your blanket falling from from your bare legs. The cold air blasts your skin and you curl back up on the bench tears pricking your eyes.
"Heyyy now I'm sorry, come here," Marco drops onto the bench beside you and pulls you into his lap, his legs stretched out around you. It's too late though, hot tears stream down your cheeks and drop on his exposed belly. Your nose is stuffy and you pull away, a headache you'd tried so hard to cure coming back in waves.
Marco doesn't let you move, instead putting a hand behind your head laying your face in his shoulder, blue flame licking at the ache in your brain. You desperately wish his devil fruit could heal your shattered heart too. You sob softly into his shirt, staining it with tears probably for the hundredth time by countless crew members since the battle.
Once you're calm you pull up the collar of your loose sleep-shirt to wipe your face. Marco's palm presses gently to your cheek and you can feel his flames burn off any puffiness from crying.
"Thank you," you smile absently, eyes darting around Marco's face and neck, and see the dark spot where your tears and snot absorbed into his shirt and your gut falls. "Ugh, I'm sorry about your shirt."
He simply smiles back at you, and lets go long enough to shrug off the shirt and toss it on the ground. Of course he can keep himself warm, but you're not complaining when he pulls you into his embrace again and lays back.
You wrap your arms around his neck. For a while you two laid there silently as you tried matching your breathing with his. You let him tuck his hands under your shirt and rub soothing patterns into your back. He moves his face to hover his lips over your ear, his warm breath collapsing your apprehension when he asks, "feel better?"
You grumble and he snorts at that, then plants his soft, full lips on your temple. The intimacy of his embrace easily filled in the gaps where your soul broke. Wordlessly, his energy shifted. You turn your head to face him, he's less cool and collected as you knew him to be. You'd rarely seen him with his brows furrowed, jaw tight, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Makes sense he needs this too. So you put a hand on his cheek, shut your eyes, and close the space between your faces, your lips gliding over to his and landing on target.
He squeezes your waist and kisses you back like he's found in you a long lost lover. The untapped passion in his touch floods your body and washes over your core. You press your center to his and grind against him. He exhales then groans, pushing his tongue into your mouth and matching the rhythm of your hips.
The world still pressed in too close despite the distracting mess forming in your shorts. Hastily and half out of breath you push his sash and belt up to reach the button of his pants. Blindly pulling at it almost rips it off. Marco smiles into the kiss and reaches a hand down to help. He pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock and pump it a few times, and you push the leg of your shorts and panties to the side and line him up with your center.
The tip of his cock glides in smooth and easy, his thick shaft pushing out every feeling except the joy of a delightful stretch that makes you squeel. He dips his hands in your shorts grabbing your ass and pushing you slowly down to the hilt, both of you letting go of a satisfying exhale.
"Marco~" Your world shrinks to velvet plush walls and cords coming loose. He groans through gritted teeth as you twist and grind in his lap, pushing your ass further into his hands, pulling him further inside as your cervix softens and allows more give.
You start bouncing on his cock and he pushes his hands up your shirt and squeezes your breasts. His touch is hot and sending sizzling streaks of pleasure down to where your bodies met. You wanted to stay right here on an endless climb to the peak of ecstasy, and you clung to that feeling with ferocious anger like it's your lifeline for sanity.
"(Y/n)..." the little world of pleasure opens up just enough for your gaze to meet his and glance over his face. Marco looks so stunning with his mouth hanging open, cheeks red, eyes glazed over with desire. "You feel so good," his panting is barely audible over the sinful sound of your pussy slapping on skin.
You could only moan in response, your nails digging into his chest as you rocked your hips especially harsh, making you both hiss. One large hand rounds the back of your neck pulling you down so he can kiss you deeply again. He exhales, his breath tasting like sweet wine, "feels so, so good. I don't deserve it..." you beat your fist down on his chest and shove that hand into his hair and push your lips harder onto his.
"Sh-shut up. Yes you do," you cry out when Marco whines and bucks up at your words.
He grabs your hips and holds you down as he fucks you hard and deep, his eyes rolling back. "M'close (y/n)."
You push yourself off of him and crawl back to kneel between his legs and swallow his cock, bobbing your head and meeting his eyes. "Fuck fuck fuck!" Cum splashes down your throat. Consuming Marco's life essence, you suck hard enough the take the marrow out of any lingering grief depressing the air.
When his cock softened in your mouth you pull away and lay your head on his thigh, rubbing your hands up and down them. His hand caresses your cheek and he beckons you to climb back up his lap to kiss you. One hand ducks beneath the hem of your shorts to rub your sensitive and engorged pussy lips which you groan at and step off him.
"You didn't cum, love, come back here," he pats his leg and you nod your head 'no'.
"Make it up to me later," a yawn escapes as you stretch, "think I can get some sleep now. Thanks for the ride, Marco." You wink at him and make to leave for the washroom. He straightens his clothes and follows you, the bright lights blinding you both as you step in. He pulls you into his embrace and takes a deep breath of your hair.
"I don't want to go back out there. Can we stay here?" He asks, fingers twirling and brushing through your hair. You hum into his touch, smiling.
"Me neither..." reluctantly you step out of his grasp and turn on the sink, run a rag under the water, and give yourself a spit and a promise.
There's commotion paired with a voice calling Marco's name down the hall and he lets out a long sigh while rolling his eyes. He washes up same as you and rushes out the door. You're picking your teeth in the mirror when he bursts back in and lays a quick, sloppy kiss on your cheek. You blink and he's gone for good this time.
When you woke up the next morning you'd gone to help the nurses in the clinic as an excuse to visit Haruta. You changed into scrubs when you arrive and get tasked with collecting laundry and changing beds. You stopped by the of 12th division commander's bed and pulled the curtains back, not expecting him to be staring up at the ceiling, brows knit together and his hands folded into each other like he'd been making a wish. He looked less like your brother and it looked more like you'd walked up on a shark washed up on shore. Too far away from the water to save it.
"Hey you! Heard you got scratched up a bit by some pigs," you stepped in and closed the curtain behind you.
He huffs and strains a smile, "it's nothing. The marines can't do anything worse to me than they have."
You nodded and took a seat, running your fingers along his greasy red locks. "I'm glad you're back."
He scans you suspiciously and you're taken aback by his persecuting stare. You're not used to him being so sullen. But no one in the crew was really themselves anymore, like you hadn't known some of them for decades.
"Got a spark in your eye. My reports weren't that good."
"What do you mean, brother?" If Pops was here he'd give Haruta a hard time for selling himself short.
"I'm saying you look happy," it was an accusation so foul it made your nostrils flare and your breath short.
"Am I not allowed to be?" You laid down beside him with your head propped up on one arm, and exhale. "I'm not, for the record. If I'm a little bright eyed it's cause you coming home helped me sleep better last night." A lie, but a flattering one you hoped would get you on his good side. It works well enough to earn Haruta's face relaxing to a more blank, neutral stare.
"Must not have read the reports then," he responds grimly.
"Do I wanna know?" What's more bad news at this point? Is your despair bottomless, or had your emotions shut down enough to a point that nothing big or small felt differently to you anymore?
Haruta looks away from you and you lean in wrapping your arm around his shoulder. So it was that bad.
"Alright. Sorry to keep you waiting, Haruta, slept a little later than I planned to this morning-" the curtain pulls back and Marco steps in wearing his doctor's coat and his sandals skid when you turn your head to look at him.
"Good morning Marco! I guess I'll go review those reports then. I'll seeya around." You remove yourself from the bed quickly and straighten your scrubs and do your best not to check if Marco was wearing his usual calm and cool look on his face. And something gnawed at your insides that left you hollow about to shake for breath.
The curtains flap closed and you go about your chores for the clinic. Sometimes overhearing Marco's voice as he checked on each patient. You noticed there weren't too many 12th division crew in the clinic, and so they must have been set out on another mission or were still recovering. The laundry gets taken by another crew member for cleaning and the nurses let you leave to take on the mountain of other tasks you needed to do today and you decide to change in your office, which had basically turned into your personal quarters.
But first Haruta's reports were screaming your name and you thumb through them. The blood dried and was flaking off onto your scrubs. That hateful hand looms over your chest, nails digging in and ripping your heart out when you read how heavily 12th division paid in blood for scraps of paper. Tears like burning rain fall down your cheeks and chest and you don't register the arms wrapped you, Marco's familiar breath blowing down onto you.
You take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your cheeks, letting Marco lift you out of the pit you were falling down. You turn around and take his face between your hands as he bends down and meets his lips with yours.
He lifts you up and lays you across your desk, breaking the kiss to nibble the line of your jaw. Burying his nose in your hair he lets out husky puffs of breath in your ear. "You've been doing such a good job taking care of your brothers. Why don't you let me help you relax, little sis?" One hand slides into your pants to rub your pussy over your panties.
"Ugh, Marco don't say it like that," face still wet with tears, you push against his chest, moaning as he flicks little circles over your clothed clit. And suddenly you're crying for a different release, one that freed your heart from a hateful hand and into a bestial, greedy claw.
He presses his body into you. "Am I not your big bother? C'mon, sweet baby sis," he pulls one leg around his hips and rubs your thigh. "Let your big brother show you how to feel good."
"What happened to calling me love?"
"I do love you. I love you so much and I want to show you how much," two thick fingers plunge inside of you, curling and dragging against your walls. Your back arches and Marco slips his other arm beneath you to hold your torso flush with his and you wrap your arms around his neck, driving a hand up the back of his head into his hair.
"Don't be mean, let me repay you for last night." His fingers rapidly pumped in and out of you, obscene squelching accented the white-hot bliss his attention shot through your core. "Come on, baby sis, let go for me. Let it all go."
Like an invitation written in blood your heart leapt from the safety of your chest and, pussy clenching around Marco's fingers, took the whole of your orgasm with you, plunging down into a violent fit of squeeling moans. Your world occupied cloud 9, a place where the pleasure wracked through your sorrow leaving only an explosion of joy.
When your heart folded back into your chest Marco placed a wet, open mouth kiss on your throat, sucking the skin between his teeth. It felt so good, not only the delightful twang of a bruise forming, but to be claimed by him with a lover's bite. "Big brother," you sighed and felt him smile against your skin since you decided to play along to this insanity, if only to drown out your anger. "They're gonna know."
With that he released you, and you wondered what you did wrong to deserve the awful fresh draft that blew between the space he created parting from your embrace. He pulled his hand from your pants and unbuttoned his white coat, revealing evidence of last night. On his chest he wore a necklace of red lines where you'd braced your weight against him as you rode him.
"Fair's fair, little sister. You claimed me first," he drapped the coat over your chair and pulled you to your feet and leaned over to run his tongue along the space behind your ear, his breath cooling it and sending fresh shivers over your body. "Now that we're even, I'm going to show you how good I can take care of you."
He turns you to face the desk and presses you down with his body caging yours. Large hands capture yours and he pulls your arms in front of you, "hold the edge of the desk, sweetheart." Your back shivers with anticipation and you do as your told, settling into the position. Marco rips your pants and panties down to your ankles and hums, you moan as he gropes your ass and slides his hand over your sloppy, messy pussy.
The head of his cock brushes beneath your lush lips, one hand firmly grasping your hip and the other lining himself up. "So soft, I didn't make you sore last night, did I?"
He did, but you welcomed the sore pain that pounded between your legs this morning. Before you could answer, a wet warmth washed up the inside of your thighs and crawled up into your belly before dissipating. You'd expected a tearing pain as Marco pushed his cock inside you, but it was a peculiar coiling numbness instead, the feeling between your legs not half as sensitive as it should be. You turn your head to look up at him, and he leans down to kiss your cheek, his cock sliding in further. His moan trilling in your ear as he starts to fuck you slow and smooth.
The feeling of him inside you wasn't enough to keep the pain in your soul from creeping back in. "Marco," you call out to him from behind a fog in your head, "fuck me hard. Please I need it."
"Yeah?" His voice sounds burnt at the ends, the flame of his passion going too far, taking too much when he stands up and rams into you. He's fucking you so hard your hips are slammed into the desk and you gasp. He sets an unforgiving pace that doesn't entirely let you catch your breath between strokes. Fresh tears roll down your cheeks, your knuckles turning white against the desk. Everything hurts more than pleases, but it's flooding out your reality as you climb back to the clouds.
Marco slows down and grinds his hips into your ass. "Don't cry, I'm taking good care of you aren't I?"
It's knowing how temporary this is. Soon this too will be a memory just like everything else that made you feel good, that made life a pleasant place. This is going to end and you're going to be left trying to fill the emptiness again, all alone.
A sharp slap against your ass is what shrinks the world to what's physical and present. "You're not focusing on me," he grabs a handful of your hair and faces you forward, "I'm being such a good brother for you, baby girl, now take what I give and have some manners." He smacks your ass hard and then your hips, digging his fingers into you and ruts into your cunt ruthlessly enough to make the desk scrape against the wooden floor.
"Th-th-thank you, big brother," he smacks your ass and squeezes it and you scream, "DON'T STOP!"
He bullies your pussy with unrelenting strokes until you're quaking around him, one orgasm rolling into a second and an over sensitive third that has your eyes crossed and your fluids waterfalling down your thighs. "Atta girl, good girl," Marco tucks his head into the crook of your neck, "Gonna cum for you, baby, you... You're such a good fuck, god," he rams into you a few more times before hilting himself fully inside you and cumming.
The only sound in the room is you two catching your breath in the musk of sex. You unlatch your fingers from the edge of the desk with a sticky sound and pet Marco's damp, sweaty head.
You turn your head touching your forehead to his and mutter, "I love you. Thank you, for real though. I need this."
"Me too, (y/n)."
"Don't do that little sister shit again."
He huffs, "haaa, fine. You didn't seem to mind it that much," he pulls his cock out, his cum spilling out with him and sliding down the mess between your legs.
You lean back, and Marco steps away and you pull up your pants to head to the bathroom to clean up. He stops you with a hand looped around your elbow. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and hugs you tight in his arms. It doesn't stop the world from flooding back in, everything you need to do today, him having to go back to the impossible task of filling Pop's place. And you go right back to crumbling. Marco slumps to the floor with you, his back against the desk and your tears mixing with the sweat on his chest.
He strokes your head, his other hand shoving his knuckles into his eyes and he lets out a wet cough over you. "We're gonna get them back. Make them pay," Marco sniffs, "hang on for me, (y/n)."
The empty pitch black part of your soul sparks aflame with the thought of disgusting vengeance. You wipe your face and nod.