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turtletaubwrites · 2 days ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching?

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop.

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone.

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman.

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling.

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry.

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams.

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen.

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister.

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen.

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again.

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely.

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it.

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them.

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again.

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down.

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she…

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby?

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk.

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him.

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up.

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something… Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie.

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer.

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star…

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table.

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?”

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his.

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing.

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star.

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it.

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor.

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do.

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop.

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true.

It was a lie.

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby?

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her.

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand.

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit.

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse.

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted.

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it.

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough.

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else.

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims.

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips.

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage.

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up.

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind.

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life.

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong.

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was.

Despair.

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them.

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.”

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—”

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.”

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood.

“Wait,” his clown commanded.

He obeyed.

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities.

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon.

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.”

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again.

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most.

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you.

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here.

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck.

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that.

Not until his work was done.

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that.

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin.

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal.

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done.

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart.

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze.

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet.

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it.

Trust is worthless in a world like this.

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world.

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show.

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table.

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though.

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible.

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry.

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on.

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it.

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin.

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes.

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table.

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips.

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away.

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty.

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey.

After he drank his first, of course.

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear.

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh.

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed.

It was fine.

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this.

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face.

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away.

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway.

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter.

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen.

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage.

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better.

He should have known better.

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time.

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside.

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists.

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it.

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later.

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong.

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit.

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face.

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor.

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words.

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time.

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices.

She didn’t cry.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t fight.

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point.

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp.

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away.

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her.

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with.

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed.

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now.

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused.

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes.

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind.

The old man hadn’t been that bad though.

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin.

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down.

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game.

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with.

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance.

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl.

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly.

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet.

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in.

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart.

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream.

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again.

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop.

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm.

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly.

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted.

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk.

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint.

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit.

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise.

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had.

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap.

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh.

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you.

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor.

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile.

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far.

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight.

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you.

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl.

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle.

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire.

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship.

But you were too far gone to give a fuck.

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was.

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail.

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like.

Were you too far gone to feel that light?

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her.

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless.

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it.

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence.

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch.

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free.

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all.

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash.

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her.

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her.

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen.

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems.

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart.

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh.

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in.

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck.

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore.

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight.

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you.

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns.

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek.

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you.

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island.

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that?

Happiness and love would tear you apart.

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought.

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

Part 36

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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