#green girl bracket

[greengirlfight]

💚Green Girl Fight💚

I was inspired by other polls, such as @purplegirltournament and @purplegreenbracket , and decided to make my own poll! I want to show some love for the green girlies.

Rules

Green girls are characters that either identify/are heavily headcannoned by the fandom as female (cis or trans), or are fem presenting. Obviously, their main color scheme is green or has heavy green influence. If you're not sure if your character counts as a green girl, feel free to ask!

When submitting, please put the name of the character and the media they are from (no abbreviations please). You can submit as many girls as you want, but please only submit each character once. To help keep it simple, I ask that you try to submit multiple girls in one ask, but I understand if you forgot a few!

Submissions will be open until June 15th at 11:59pm PST, or until I get too overwhelmed if there is a high volume. You can submit by asks, submissions, or my dms.

Please share this post around so others can see it! Any questions feel free to send me an ask!

[revacholian-girl-utena]

My soul is puny.

Alt text: Screencaps from Revolutionary Girl Utena with overlaid text. 1: Young Saionji watches in horror as Touga opens the coffin in the church. Text: At the core, you're a very banal person,

2: Closeup of young Saionji clutching his head and screaming. Text: with a very small soul.

3: Closeup of Saionji's empty hands when he drops his sword after hurting Touga. Text: One you should be *ashamed* of.

4: Touga and Saionji's silhouettes as children at kendo practice. Touga is holding Saionji's hand and Saionji is looking up at him. The background is a warm sunset. Text: It's no wonder the soft one doesn't want it back.

5: Touga's silhouette standing by the incinerator. Text: It was right to abandon you... End alt text

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Round 1 Match 10

[sapphiccharacterstournament]

Canon Sapphic Characters Tournament Round 2 (Bracket 6)

[dxntloseurhead]

PART ONE - ROUND TWO

[musical-failgirl-fight]

Round 1 Poll 11

Who is the most failgirl?

For Regina:

i know you're probably thinking "she's a bully perfect queen whatever how can she be a failgirl" but have you seen her?? nobody actualy likes her they are just scared. and she lost her boyfriend twice and the second time was to a "friend" and she literally got tricked into eating weight gain bars and also she got hit by a bus. she is a failgirl

For Lee:

While I'll admit she gets to redeem herself later in her character arc and become a girlboss, for now, Lee/Leigh/Fleur/Whatever she calls herself is stuck in quite a girlfailure-y pit. In an attempt to live out her dream of being a singing sensation, she leaves her fiancé in the dead of night and moves all the way to the other side of the country, because she didn't want said fiancé to know where she was. I mean, I don't blame her for leaving him (long story), but a note would've sufficed. Anyway, Lee decides to hook up with the most dangerous and conniving drug dealer in the city and probably the state: He helps fund/fufill Lee's dream job, and Lee... gets fucked up on his crazy LSD. Lee is alright with this. She either does not notice or *chooses* not to notice the drug dealer's kill count. She admits that she's only in the relationship for the dealer's money. She may actually like him though? A little more than her now ex-fiance, who's engagement ring she kept for some reason. Her current relationship ends up somewhat backfiring on Lee when her drug dependency renders her unable to show up for recording sessions. And now Lee is starting to have some dilemmas. Without a whole lot of people who are sympathetic toward her, and without a plan B to a failing plan A, Lee's kind of stuck in a pit of many makings. Lee is by no means a bad or mean person, and in a lot of ways, most of her descisions are fairly justified. But that doesn't make those descisions *good* ones. She's stil

[green-and-purple-bracket]

[artslovergirl]

red wine supernova

recently divorced!tashi duncan x reader

notes: cw: age gap of 9 years! reader is a girlfailure loser who would sell her soul for one chance with tashi duncan, tashi being a twilight fan mention (tashi duncan weird girl agenda), reader is the biggest tashi apologist ever she does not gaf, artashi caught a stray in this im sorry i promise i love them, commas are just fun accessories to me, if you read all of this i will give kiss ur heart and soul, i love u chappell roan thank u for this song, tashi duncan a girlfriend WILL save you in this

wordcount: 9.6k (omfg)

she was a playboy, brigitte bardot

she showed me things, i didn't know

you met tashi duncan by complete accident. like actually.

you didn't meet her in the stands at a match for any of the new players she's coaching or some fundraiser or gala that only rich people would attend. you met her at the grocery store. you remember it pretty specifically because the memory makes you crumple up in embarrassment every time. 

you turned your shopping cart around the corner, your mind being laser focused on getting green tea because you forgot it last week and you were almost out and you also forgot your grocery list at home which means you’ll inevitably buy everything BUT the stuff that you need and- 

is that tashi donaldson? you stopped in your tracks, it felt like your whole system had been reset. holy shit. that IS her.

she was wearing a tight black top, designer pants with three golden necklaces (that you were sure cost more than your laptop) and her bob was thrown into a short low ponytail.

you felt like a deer in headlights considering that you’d never really met a celebrity before. i mean, you had only gotten into watching tennis a couple of years ago ( at first only because of your stupid ex boyfriend, but now you enjoyed it genuinely…and you enjoyed it as a way to spite him a little too.) but still she counted as a celebrity to you. 

a celebrity you find crazy hot. oh god and of course you looked severely terrible right now. you had just thrown on the first outfit you saw and threw your unwashed hair up with a claw clip. also you had not cared enough to put on shoes and were just wearing slippers.

great. not as if you wearing a cocktail dress and having a blowout would have really changed anything but maybe you did have the fantasy that if you looked hot enough you could seduce this powerful gorgeous rich woman. not that it matters now since that wasn't what was happening at all.

should you say something? no, right? you'd imagine that no one would really want to be disturbed by a fan while shopping for groceries of all things. then again, she didn't even have a shopping cart. or a basket. so maybe it would be fine? what was she even doing here? you highly doubted that you and tashi fucking donaldson were in the same tax bracket.

she should be at erewhon or whatever that store for rich people that get off on paying 30 dollars for bread is called. fuck it, you were gonna say something. you gingerly walked up to her, noting that the closer you got the more intimidating her presence felt. 

“hey, i'm so sorry to bother you but are you tashi d-” before you could get out the rest of your sentence your gaze fell onto the tabloids that were propped up on the shelf behind her. on the covers stood in big fat neon yellow letters “DONALDSONS DIVORCE? Is this it for the Tennis-IT couple?”

oh, right. divorce. fuck. what is it now…duncan or donaldson? fuck. tashi obviously noticed the sudden break in your sentence and the way your eyes were glued to something behind her. she turned around, saw the unmissable headline, huffed and turned back to you. “just duncan is fine.” she said, staring down at you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

you felt your stomach drop in shame and suddenly really prayed that the floor would open up and just swallow you whole so you wouldn't have to continue embarrassing yourself in front of one of the hottest women you had ever seen.

“right, i'm so sorry, i didn't want to be rude but uh.. that just now made me seem very rude.” you awkwardly stammered, drumming your fingers against the warm plastic handle of your shopping cart. your hands were sweating. 

to your relief she just gave you a small smile and shook her head, “don't worry about it, this isn't the first time this has happened.” you were honestly surprised at her nonchalance. in your mind she could have pulled out a gun and shot you point blank for that and you would've probably forgiven her. 

“ah..yeah..still. sorry. um, i just came over to say that im um..a big fan. i mean, ever since you started coaching hayden and torres, their game totally changed, its insane.” you felt like you were forgetting to breathe because your entire focus was on making a somewhat good impression and hopefully making her forget what just happened.

tashi seemed a little amused by your nervous energy, that's something at least. “thank you, they were already great players just needed some refinement.” she looked you up and down. you felt a shiver run up your body as if her gaze had physically touched you.

“ah, well, yeah, i just mean if you compare this season to last season..um..anyway..” you shifted from foot to foot anxiously. she was so hot. a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“do you play?” 

“hm?” 

“tennis?”

 “oh!”

you shook your head quickly. “no, no, i'm far too unathletic for that.” you chuckled to divert from the fact that you had been so caught up in mentally drooling over her that you made her specify tennis.

“uh, plus the barrier to entry is a bit too expensive for me. i mean rackets and lessons and all that..” you fiddled with the hem of your worn down sweater. you're pretty sure you've had this sweater since middle school and now you were wearing it while meeting the hottest woman alive. tashi duncans gaze felt like the sun, and for some reason she insisted on making very intense eye contact with you. 

“right. well maybe you can give it a try one day, i think it would suit you.”

does this make you now legally obligated to play tennis? it really feels like it. you feel heat crawl up your neck.

“ha…really?” you sound like you're gasping for air. 

she looked you up and down again. jesus christ. “mhm.” 

okay, well, you were on the verge of passing out and she really wasnt giving you a lot to work here conversation wise so you just squeaked out, “um…do you mind signing something?” she seemed a little surprised for a second like she had forgotten the reason you had come up to her in the first place, but after a short moment she nodded. “sure.” 

you rummaged through your messy bag, trying to find anything signable (yeah, you hadn't really thought asking for a signature through) but luckily you quickly found your daily planner and a random hello kitty pen you genuinely didn't remember buying.

you began thumbing through your planner until you found a blank page and quickly handed the two items to her for her to sign.

you felt awkward just watching her sign so you pretended to browse the aisles with your gaze until the handed the small book and pen back to you.

“thank you so much!” you eagerly took it and stuffed it back in your bag. “sorry for taking up your time.” you chuckled sheepishly.

“its really not a problem. it was nice meeting you.” you were genuinely about to melt into the floor. “u-um..oh! yeah, it was really really nice meeting you too!” you nodded a little too intensely.

you exchanged small waves before you watched her disappear down an aisle. as soon as she was out of earshot you exhaled sharply and you draped your torso over your shopping cart like a ragdoll.

oh my god.

put her canine teeth

in the side of my neck

later that evening (after unpacking your groceries and realizing that you had indeed forgotten to buy green tea) you read through every article written on the donaldson's relationship and recent divorce.

you even paid for the ones hidden behind paywalls.

you felt a little ashamed of it, since you knew a lot of these journalists loved to exaggerate for the sake of drama but you just..wanted to know everything.

and you stumbled across a particular article that left you...gob-smacked for a lack of a better term. it was titled:

‘what really happened at the phil’s tire town challenger?’

you remember vaguely hearing about that a couple months ago...maybe a year ago? but you didn't think much of it at the time. but this? this article revealed everything that was truly beneath the surface of that match.

it revealed relationship entanglements between tashi her (now ex) husband and her ex-boyfriend that led all the way back to 2006. you were honestly a little concerned how they even got this much information.

you should probably be scandalized or shocked or whatever but honestly all you could think was: what a woman. she made two guys play a fucking tennis match not to win the us open juniors singles title but to win her number? what a fucking woman.. 

the next day you opened up your planner to write down an appointment you had just booked when you were greeted by tashi’s signature. before you could swoon and admire her pretty handwriting you noticed something you hadn't seen when haphazardly throwing the planner into your bag earlier. a string of neatly written numbers under her autograph. holy shit. she gave you her number.

i'm in the hallway waitin' for ya

mini skirt and my go-go boots

“is this too short? or like…just short enough?”

you did a small twirl for your roommate, aubrey, who you had been subjecting to a fashion show of different skirts for the past ten minutes.

“show me the back again?” she was half paying attention to you, half scrolling twitter. you turned around. “you cant see my ass right? i don't want to flash her. leave a little mystery y'know.”

she looked up for a second and then nodded, “no, you're good. just pick that one.” you huffed at her lack of taking this seriously. to be fair you hadn't told her that the “recently divorced slightly older woman” you’d be seeing was tashi duncan but still! where’s the support!

you looked back in the mirror…hm…this one did look cute while not showing off too much. also you only had an hour left until the meeting and you still had to put on the rest of the outfit and style your hair, so this one would have to do.

“okay, thanks, love you, bye.” you hurriedly skipped to your room. “hey! you left all your shit all over the floor!” aubrey yelled after you pointing towards the mountain of clothes you had discarded after mixing and matching outfits.

“i'll pick it up later!” you yelled back as you slammed the door behind you and you could faintly hear her responded with a groan. whatever! this was literally the opportunity of a lifetime! you were going on a FUCKING DATE with the hottest woman to ever live who just also happened to be insanely rich and one of the most iconic figures in the tennis world.

you must've been a nurse or a doctor or something equally charitable in a past life to deserve this.

okay, well, to be fair…you weren't 100 percent sure if this was…actually a date? but you also didn't know what else she could possibly mean by meeting. what actual business would she have to discuss with a 24-year old college dropout who doesn't even play tennis?

you had texted a little bit with tashi since that fateful day, three weeks ago, when you discovered her number in your planner. you still had no clue why she gave it to you but you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

the many drafts you had crafted for the first message to her were still in your notes app and looking back on it, each one seemed more pathetic than the last.

the one you ended up sending was okay, not great, but you quickly realized that tashi preferred calling to texting anyway. which suited you just fine because her style of texting was far more formal than you were used to (i.e. she capitalized the appropriate words and used periods at the end of her sentences.)

and it always made you just a tad nervous she was mad at you or something. for about two weeks now, it had almost become routine to receive a call from tashi at exactly 10 pm, which was when she always did her nightly routine.

you knew that because you could always faintly hear her changing into a night robe and applying various lotions and cleansers. it made your heart beat three times faster thinking about the fact that even with how busy she was, she worked to somehow fit you in.

the first calls were..a little clunky and awkward mostly due to the fact that you could barely hear anything she said over the booming sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

but as soon as you made her laugh for the first time all that anxiety seemed to just dissipate. it made you realize she wasn't asking you to perform for her, and she seemingly enjoyed you the way you are.

after that, each conversation flowed much easier and even though you seemingly didn't have much in common on the surface, you found yourselves talking for an hour every night.

the topics didn't matter, because every topic was exciting and made you giggle and kick your feet as long as you were talking about it with her. 

you sat down at your desk and examined yourself in the small vanity mirror that stood on it. you huffed and quickly began messing around with your hair and touching up your makeup until you were finally satisfied with the results.

and then right on time your phone started buzzing aggressively on your small desk, effectively scaring the shit out of you, with a reminder that you had to leave like right now to catch the subway.

you checked yourself out in the mirror one last time. you took a deep breath. okay..okay..you looked good. hot. super hot definitely. hot enough to go on a date with tashi duncan? well, no, no one would ever achieve such a thing but you got close enough.

you grabbed your small purse and rushed out of your room to quickly strap on your heels in the hallway. as you shut the front door behind you, you heard aubrey shout after you “good luck, hope you get fingered!”

a girl can dream.

okay, really, you didn't need to be running.

you had left with like 20 minutes buffer time to get to her place just in case something went wrong but..you somehow needed to get that pent up anxiety out lest you end up vomiting it all out later.

but as you began booking it down your street towards the subway station a loud honking violently stopped you in your tracks.

you automatically whipped your head around to look for the origin of the noise. there was a sleek black car parked right in front of your shitty but overpriced new york apartment complex. there's no way that belonged to anyone living here. you were a little tempted to keep running since this seemed sketchy as hell.

the car honked again and the driver leaned out the window, he was dressed in some kind of uniform? “i’m here to pick you up for miss duncan?” he raised a brow like he wasn't sure if you were really the one he was here for.

maybe because you were staring at him like you’d never seen a chauffeur before. huh. now that you think about it, you actually had never seen a chauffeur before.

“oh..um..tashi duncan?” you almost whispered like it was a secret that needed to be kept. he gave you a look. rude.

“yes. tashi duncan.” he replied. “um..i don't mean to be rude but is there like..confirmation for that? because..i don't just want to get in some guy's car.”

the driver already seemed fed up with you. at that moment your phone buzzed again but this time with a text message from none other than the woman of your dreams. 

“I sent you a ride. I think the subway is far too dangerous for you to take this late.” 

talk about timing. you looked up from your phone and shot the driver an apologetic smile as you quickly clambered into the backseat.

wow, this is a fancy ass car. and it had that weird new car smell. you knew that most people liked it but it just made you dizzy for some reason.

now that you didn't have to worry about arriving on time, you could stop freaking out about that and instead freak out about the fact that..

holy shit, she sent a car for you! you weren't quite sure if this was like a for real chauffeur or just a very fancy uber but you didn't care because it just made you so giddy. like this was definitely confirmation that this was a date, right? right? yes, totally…possibly! 

it was also a little exciting to receive this kind of treatment, especially from a woman like her. 

shortly before you arrived you checked your reflection in the car's tinted window. you pulled out your shimmery cherry scented lip gloss and applied it generously until you could see your lips shine. perfect!

breathe in, breathe out, this will go fine. this will go perfectly. you gave yourself an encouraging nod (and immediately cringed at yourself for it.) 

you mumbled a quick thanks to the driver and quickly got out as soon as the car slowed to a stop. your 2 inch heeled boots could be heard clacking against the pavement as you walked towards probably the most luxurious apartment complex you had ever seen.

it was very much “insanely wealthy recent divorcee” chique.

then you noticed the door man who was already looking at you a little weirdly, probably because you had stumbled towards the apartment like a newborn fawn.

“um, hello.” you gave a polite smile. “i’m um..here to visit tashi duncan?” you didn't know why you phrased it like a question, you should really be more assertive, this was all just so unusual for you.

“right. youre miss y/ln?” your heart fluttered..because this meant she had informed him prior to your visit and that this was all real and happening. “yes.” you nodded quickly and even showed your ID even though he insisted it really wasn't necessary. 

on the elevator ride up you could feel anxiety in the form of nausea burrow itself through your stomach lining. oh, god. this would be fine. ding. the doors opened. 

you were immediately enveloped by the warm scent of cinnamon mixed with fresh laundry and expensive perfume. that scent seemed to go through your nose and slowly invade each part of your body until it softly curled up in your heart, making you yearn to never smell anything but this ever again. you took a cautious step out of the elevator and took in your surroundings. 

it wasn't a surprise that this apartment was maybe…5 times the size of yours? maybe 6? it seemed huge from just the size of the entryway. the color scheme was quite neutral, with a lot of white and earthy tones which you could appreciate.

it gave everything a sense of calm and comfort. it was well-decorated too, which you had already expected but evidence of her having good taste only made you even more attracted to her. 

you must've spaced out because all of a sudden the woman herself stood in front of you. and she was an absolute vision. the soft warm lights of the apartment bathed her in its glow making her dainty golden jewelry glimmer, her short gently curled locks fell around her defined face like a silk curtain, her skin shimmered like fresh morning dew and the pearl colored dress she wore accentuated her chest and wrapped around her hips like honey. 

“hey.” she smiled softly as she took a step closer. you were NOT gods strongest soldier in this moment. or any moment. but especially this one.

all the nerves you had gotten over during the phone calls returned full force now that she actually stood in front of you, looking like a muse. you weren't sure if you could handle all that to be perfectly frank.

“h..hi. thank you for..sending the ride.” you stammered out in a low breath. “i wasn't really looking forward to having to endure the smell of urine for an hour on the subway..” you continued just because the silence made you nervous. 

“it’s no problem. i figured as much. plus i couldn't possibly make you take the subway to our first date, hm?” she said it like that sentence alone didn't put you at serious risk for spontaneous combustion.

so this was a date! you didn't even notice but you were absolutely beaming at her. “oh..well..yeah, um..thank you, anyway.” your front teeth caught your bottom lip in their grasp. you could feel her slender fingers wrap around your wrist and she gently led you through her apartment, you weren't sure where to.

but you didn't care, wherever she wanted you to be that's where you would go. “you have really good taste..like..decorating wise and stuff” your voice was still shaky but you were feeling a bit more at ease now that she had confirmed that this was in fact a date. 

she looked back at you over her shoulder. “you like it?” she smiled. “yeah!” you nodded a little too eagerly, “it's very..hm..calming. i think. and very chique.” she let out a bemused exhale through her nose at your use of the word ‘chique’. “i appreciate it.” she assured you with a small glimmer of something in her eyes.

i just want you to make a move

so slow down, sit down, it's new

in the center of her spacious dining room stood a circular glass table which was set up beautifully with candles flickering gently while they illuminated the two plates that you could now see carried your favorite dinner. (huh, so that's why she asked you about that yesterday.) the plates were accompanied by two wine glasses and a small dish of creme brulee set to the side. 

you were honest to god speechless. i mean… i mean , what do you even say in this situation. the fact that this woman was evidently just as enamored with you as you were with her was something you still had difficulty comprehending.

everything moved so quickly and yet at the same time these past two weeks felt like they stretched over months.

she gently led you towards the chair, you could feel the gentle pressure of her hand against the small of your back. you tried to remember to breathe.

you took a seat and she headed over to the counter that connected her dining room and kitchen. she grabbed the two wine bottles that you hadn't even noticed until that very moment.

she held them up and asked, “red wine or white?” to be truthful, you had never really drunk wine before. you vaguely remember having it once on your 20th birthday, but not ever since. that made you feel a little immature, so instead of admitting this you just blurted out, “white?” out of sheer panic.

she nodded and carried both bottles over to the table and poured white wine in your glass and red wine in hers. looking at the glasses you secretly wondered if this meant kissing her later would now taste like rosé. 

as she took her seat across from you the candlelight highlighted her face in the most flattering way, defining her sharp features while somehow softening them at the same time as she sat before you.

one thing that was the exact same in real life as it was on tv and photos, was tashi's intense gaze. at first it made you anxious but now it simply excited you. you almost reveled in it. you wanted her gaze to be on you. to pin you down. 

“i have one rule for tonight.” she spoke up after taking a sip of her wine. your eyes widened a little, like a curious fox you tilted your head to prompt her to continue. “no tennis talk.” she said with a certain seriousness. oh. phew. that you could certainly handle. and it wasn't very surprising either. most people didn't enjoy shop-talk during dates.

“that is gonna be no problem for me.” you chuckled with slight relief. “i mean, not that i would really have that much to say about it anyway. i'm more of a casual fan anyway.” you shot her a quick sheepish grin, quietly fidgeting with the hem of your miniskirt under the table. 

you could see a faint smile play on her lips in response. silence could only fill the room for a mere second before you spoke again, “i kind of have to admit um..i’m a little nervous.”

to say that you were stating the obvious was an understatement.

“i could tell. you don't have to be.” she reached over and gently ran a finger over the back of your hand, tracing your veins. you shivered.

“i know, it’s just…i don't know. i want this to go well.” you nervously looked up to meet her gaze. “it will.” she hummed.

“we’ll just talk, like on the phone.” her voice was like a soothing balm to your pounding heart. “yeah, but it's different. like..being here. a..and..i..”

should you admit it? you were almost sure she wouldn't care, yet you were riling yourself up about it. she raised a brow. “i've never really..like i don't have any experience with women.”

she intertwined your hand with hers. “that's okay, i mean, the last time i was with a girl was like..college.” she chuckled wryly.

she continued, “really, that doesn't matter to me. i just wanna get to know you.” she reassured you as she squeezed your hand. in that moment she made you feel so seen and so safe with such ease that you wanted to cry a little.

but obviously, you wouldn't, because that would be supremely lame to do on a first date..okay, tearing up did not count! (thankfully she did you the kindness of not pointing it out.)

i like, i like, what you like, what you like

long hair, no bra, that's my type, that's right

after her reassurance, your nervousness started to slowly ebb away and your conversation started to flow more naturally again.

the dinner was long done by this point and you now sat next to her on the couch with your legs almost touching hers. you were already feeling a small buzz in your system that led to you feeling very giggly as you sipped on your second glass of white wine.

tashi was currently recounting the story of her first and last frat party she went to at stanford, to be honest, you were only paying half attention. you tried very hard (really, you did) to not stare at her lips but it was getting harder and harder the more tipsy you got and you were definitely laughing way too much at her story to overcompensate.

you knew she noticed because she leaned a little closer, her arm leaning on the backrest of the couch, “you are not listening to me at all right now.” she huffed playfully, a smirk dancing over the very soft-looking lips.

“what?” you giggled and subtly shifted so her thighs were fully touching yours now. “no, i'm listening.” you tried so hard not to grin but the way she was looking at you just made you want to smile and giggle and kick your feet.

“what did i just say then?” she raised a brow and leaned even closer. you could smell her perfume and it made you dizzy. “uh…umm..” you scrunched up your nose in thought. “some guy..did..something?”

she rolled her eyes but you could tell she was only teasing, “good guess.”

“what, so youre gonna tell me i'm wrong?” you challenged playfully. “i’m saying you're not paying attention.” she hummed, her hand reaching out to gently play with your hair which made you feel the urge to curl up in her lap like a cat.

ooh, okay, you were gonna go for it now because you were justttt tipsy enough to not cringe at yourself flirting. you leaned forward, you could feel her breath on your cheek, “can you blame me?” you muttered, now unabashedly staring at her lips.

she seemed caught off guard by your sudden forwardness but she certainly didn't seem to mind it. her head tilted down a little until her nose brushed yours, “i guess not.” she grinned like she knew she had you in the palm of her hand. and she was right.

you wanted to kiss her so bad in this moment that if she asked for it, you were certainly not above getting on your knees and begging. your fingertips trailed over her thigh and you were looking up at her with the most pathetic ‘please kiss me’ eyes you could manage.

apparently that worked on her because before you could form another thought you felt her lips brush yours and everything in your mind screeched to a halt. your breath hitched and you eagerly reciprocated, the hand resting on her thigh tensing slightly.

you could feel her ringer-clad fingers travel down to your waist and squeeze gently which elicited the most embarrassing whimper out of you.

you could feel her smile into the kiss in response. subconsciously almost, you leaned even closer to press against her like you were trying to mold yourself to fit against her body like a puzzle piece.

one of your hands tentatively traced over her chest. you already knew she wasn't wearing a bra, since her dress had very thin straps but exposed no bra straps. but to actually somewhat feel it through the silky fabric clinging to her curves felt life-altering.

her other hand began to reach up to gently caress the back of your head, tangling her fingers in your hair, to draw you closer into the kiss. 

you weren't sure if it was because she was older and more experienced or if it was because you'd never kissed a woman before or maybe everyone you've ever made out with before her sucked but if you were honestly not sure if you could ever kiss anyone but her again after this.

it was like she had been given a manual on you and your body and she knew every single button she had to press to make you gasp and yearn for more. it could also be because she could probably do anything and you’d find it hot.

the kiss turned messier and deeper, your noses were bumping and smushing against each other and you were pretty sure some of her hair was caught in the kiss at one point but neither of you realized nor cared.

all you could think of, all you could feel, all you could smell, all you could hear was tashi. she was everything and everywhere. it was like anything outside of this moment suddenly didn't exist anymore.

until she pulled back. without even realizing it, your lips chased after hers for one last kiss before allowing it to end. it was only then that you noticed how out of breath you truly were. you inhaled shakily. her hand rested on your neck, rubbing gentle circles with her fingers. you couldn't meet her gaze without giggling.

but at least you weren't alone, as she couldn't stop grinning either. you leaned your forehead against her shoulder, tilting your head slightly so you could look up at her.

your entire body felt like it was radiating warmth, but it felt nice. you let out another bashful chuckle, “is the first date too early to say that i really like you?”

tashi’s heart jumped at your words. ha, like? she couldnt remember the last time she had heard someone say they ‘really liked’ her. maybe college? but after a near decade of a marriage that fizzled out as pathetically as a candle in the rain, she found herself excited at the prospect. she found herself excited in general actually, which had almost become a foreign feeling to her these past few years.

all the heart-pounding, late-night calls, first kisses, she hadn't realized until this moment how much she had truly yearned for this feeling again. the feeling of something fresh, of a beginning, of something exciting, of you.

you made her feel a sudden spark of connection to a part of herself she had thought died back on the court at stanford along with her career.

you made her feel like tashi duncan. and after 8 years of being tashi donaldson, she fucking craved that.

“i dont think there's a rule for that.” as she looked down at you, her smile was still as present as ever. “but i really like you too.”

by the time you left her apartment complex it was already midnight. you two had spent the time mostly talking, making out some more, finally checking the time, being walked out by her, getting distracted and making out some more in her entryway, and then actually leaving with two new lovebites on your neck.

the doorman from earlier gave you a knowing look as you stumbled out of the elevator which you did not appreciate. tashi paid for some fancy uber to drive you home again and as soon as you got home you let yourself collapse onto your bed basking in the lingering buzz of tashi's touch spreading through each and every cell in your body. you squeaked and giggled into your pillow.

“so. did it happen?” you sat up in surprise as your roommate suddenly appeared in your doorway. it was like she faded into rooms sometimes with how quiet she was. “i told you to knock.” you complained. “also did what happen?” you raised a brow.

“did you..” she made a crude gesture with her hand. “man, get out!” you threw a plushie at her as she quickly retreated back into the living room, snickering to herself. 

well, back at my house

i got a california king

okay, maybe it's a twin bed

and some roommates, don't worry we're cool!

“no, she’s out for the night.” you mumbled in answer tashi’s question about your roommates whereabouts while continuing to jiggle your keys as you struggled with unlocking the door.

you’d called your landlord 6 times already on this piece of shit lock and how it was near impossible to open without brute force, he promised to fix it…take a wild guess if he ever did.

so now said lock was embarrassing you in front of your girlfriend (well, you had started calling her that in your head but were too cowardly to actually ask) because it was kind of making it look like you had lied about having an apartment and were now trying to break into some other persons place.

“this stupid thing never works..” you grumble. you shot her an apologetic look, “sorry, the locks kinda finicky.”

with one more brutal tug (one that really hurt your hand a lot but you were going to pretend like it didn't because for some reason you still wanted to impress her) the lock finally clicked and the door opened. you sighed in relief.

“its a pretty small place.” you said as you let her into your apartment and shut the door behind her. you knew she wouldn't care and she had assured you that so many times. plus you couldnt meet up at her place like you had the last few months because apparently her ex-husband was there currently for whatever reason.

you werent really keen on meeting him, nor was tashi it seems. as you walked down the narrow hallway, leading her to your room you suddenly shrieked and jumped back into tashi’s chest in shock. she instinctively caught you and put her arms around you which would have made your heart flutter under normal circumstances but right now your heart was preoccupied trying to regain its normal rhythm.

“what the hell!” you groaned, holding your chest recovering from the jumpscare of your roommate sitting on the couch. she looked up. “oh, whats up.” she nodded to you and then nodded to tashi, “hey, im aubrey.”

before tashi could greet her back you interrupted, “aubrey! what the hell are you doing home, you said you’d be out for the night!” you said in a tone mixed between anger and whining. “felix got food poisoning.” she shrugged, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “what? is he okay?” your eyes furrowed in concern. “yeah, he’s cool. he got dared to eat gas station sushi.” “what? that's-” you looked back at tashi realizing that this conversation made your friends seem a little childish.

“whatever just…do you have to be here right now?” you huffed. “chill, im not gonna cockblock you.” usually you loved your roommate but right now you wanted to strangle her.

“oh-kay.” you gave up, covered your face in embarrassment and quickly dragged tashi to your room before aubrey could make things even worse with her crudeness and her propensity for embarrassing you in front of guests.

you slammed the door shut with your foot. “sorry, that's..uh my roommate..she’s…yeah.” tashi chuckled, rubbing her thumb over your wrist in the way that always soothed you. “relax, okay? i'm not gonna start clutching my pearls.”

you exhaled through your noise and nodded, “right, yeah, i was just caught off guard. i wanted us to be alone.” you sighed, leaning your head on her shoulder.

she was a bit taller than you, especially in heels, which you really liked. “we are alone.” she pressed a kiss to you earlobe. “you know what i mean!” you groaned.

once again she seemed amused by your tendency for dramatics when in distress. “also the walls are thin.” you pouted. “well, we don't always have to-” “yeah but i wanted to!” she looked over her shoulder at your bed, “you have a twin bed” she snorted.

“so? we could've made it work.”

“i'm sorry baby but as soon as i left college i vowed to never have sex in a twin bed again” she laughed lowly.

“youre mean.” you whined into the crook of her neck. “mhm..” she gave your back a small pat, “now c'mon, you promised a room tour remember?”

you raised your head to give her a look, reaching out your arm to gesture at the small space. “what's there to give a tour of? this thing is a shoebox.”

“don't be like that. cmonnn~” she nudged you with her elbow. ugh, you were nothing if not weak for her. “fine.” you cleared your throat to get into your best ‘real estate agent voice’.

“over here is the “walk-in closet”-” you made air quotes with your fingers. “-but you can really only stand in it. also the door hinge is broken so the door doesn't close.” you demonstrated by pushing the door which wouldn't budge. “this-” you pointed to the woven hamper-like chest that stood at the foot of your bed, “is where i keep like..everything i couldn't fit anywhere else. not interesting.” you shrug.

“i dont know, sounds interesting to me..” you looked back at tashi, she was leaning against your creaky wooden desk and was looking at you in that way that always made your legs shaky.

she looked at you like you were the most interesting, entertaining thing in the world, with her gaze warm and her lips quirked up in a soft smile.

“what?” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, “stop that.” you forced yourself to look away from her.

“stop what?” she leaned her torso forward with a teasing smirk.

“the look.”

“what look?”

“tashi.” you stepped in between her legs and glared. her slightly crooked front tooth showed as she grinned, “what i cant look at my girlfriend?”

FULL STOP. full. stop. did she just call you her girlfriend? oh, how the heavens have smiled upon you this day, truly. from the woman herself, you were officially tashi duncan's fucking GIRLFRIEND.

the shock must've been extremely visible on your face because she tilted her head in confusion a little, “what?” you snap out of the celebration you had been holding in your brain and stumble over yourself a little, “huh? no, nothing-”

your voices overlap as tashi says, “are we not?-” “no, we are!” “because i thought-” “no, no, we are, we are!”

no way in hell you were gonna let tashi think you didnt want to be her girlfriend, actually no fucking way!

there's a short moment of silence. “we just never talked about it. so i wasn't sure. but i really want it. like want you. like i really want to be your girlfriend,” you couldn't get the words out fast enough.

tashi chuckled softly as she shook her head, “i thought we made it official on the fifth date?” you giggled in surprise, “what? i would've remembered that!” “we were talking about exes-” “mhm..” “and then you asked if i felt ready for a new relationship already and i said yes.”

you blinked, “okay but thats not making it official.” she huffed out a small laugh, “what did you need me to spell it out?” “...yes?” she pulled you in closer by your waist, “mh, fine, then..” she paused for dramatic effect, “...will you be my girlfriend?”

you snickered, “do you feel very high-school right now?” she let out a dry laugh, “i feel super high-school but i'm willing to do that for you.”

you wrapped your arms around her neck, “and i'm very appreciative. i would love to be your girlfriend.” you smiled into the kiss. yeah, you’d also agree to marry her this very second if she asked but obviously you weren't gonna tell her that. that seemed more like a tenth date conversation.

after almost convincing tashi to break her rule about having sex in a twin bed but ultimately having your roommate ruin the mood by blasting some horror movie in the living room you decided to just put a movie on yourself.

the bed was a little cramped but eventually you managed to find a comfy position with half of your body draped over her chest, your head resting on her shoulder and her head leaning against yours.

the laptop rested on your thighs as you scrolled through netflix trying to find anything interesting to watch with her. you felt her body shift a little bit when you hovered over a specific movie.

you chuckled looking up at her, “twilight?” “oh, i mean, if you want.” she shrugged trying to feign nonchalance. “do you want?” you raised your brows teasingly.

"i don't care.”

“mhhh..i think you do.” you sat up with a shiteating grin.

“i think somebody had a twilight phase…”

she snorted and glanced to the side, knowing she had been caught red-handed. “i was like 20 when the movie came out, thats silly.”

“mhm. did you read the book?”

silence.

“knew it. caught you!  i caught you. give it up.” you nudged her shoulder. she rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her amusement, “yeah, fine, i had a twilight phase, whatever.”

you bounced up and down a little in excitement, pretty much beaming. you didn't know why it pleased you so much. maybe it was the fact that you felt this bonded you both in some way. it wasn't only because you too, had a twilight phase, no, it was more the fact that it hinted at something you had been secretly suspecting.

that natasha “tashi” duncan was in fact a massive dork. just like you. although she was admittedly far better at hiding it. 

you certainly had this image when you first met her that tashi was akin to a statue. like you could look at her from every angle but you would not be able to find even the smallest crack in the marble. not the slightest hair out of place. not a single imperfection to be found. but the more you got to know her, the more the marble chipped away. but instead of leaving an empty hole behind, it revealed something better. it revealed her. with every imperfection she had, with every bad thing she’s ever done, with every odd habit or quirk, with everything that made her real.

“we’re watching twilight then.” you said with finality and laid back down next to her. “we really don't have to.” “oh, yes, we really do.” 

one more fun-fact you learned about her that night was that she was an extremely heavy sleeper. like. like it was crazy.

she had fallen asleep against you about halfway through the movie which you thought was extremely cute and you took like 20 pictures all while trying not to move so as to not wake her.

which apparently was not necessary at all because when you accidentally sneezed so hard it shook the mattress you instantly looked at her with worry expecting her to wake up. but no. nothing. not even an eye twitch. so. obviously. you needed to conduct an experiment.

you paused the movie and untangled yourself from her embrace. you lightly shook her shoulder. “tashi…tashiiii..” you mumbled. once again nothing.

“tashi!” nope.

and..well, youre not proud of how you got here but after a row of attempts to wake her you were standing in front of your bed holding two pots in either hand about to bang them together.

but before that could happen tashi slowly stirred and opened her eyes. she furrowed her brows at the sight that greeted her “what the hell are you doing?” you hid the pots behind your back as if she hadn't already seen them.

“nothing.”

“were you trying to wake me. by banging pots together?” she sounded genuinely offended by how stupid that idea was.

“no?”

silence.

“you're a really heavy sleeper.”

“if you wanted to wake me you could've just set an alarm.”

“you'll wake up from alarm but not from someone shaking you?”

“you were shaking me?”

“no?” … “yes, okay, i'm sorry, i love you. it was done out of at least 50 percent concern i promise.”

she groaned and placed her hands over her face. you placed the pots on the ground and crawled back in bed with her.

“don't be mad?” you pouted, peppering kisses over her neck until she broke with a small laugh, “okay, okay, stop, i forgive you.”

she gently pushed you off. you sat up.

“i promise to never do it again. i was just..very surprised how heavy of a sleeper you are.” you began playing with her fingers. “you seem really tired, though. do you wanna sleep over?” you mumbled softly.

she took a moment to think about her schedule for tomorrow. “if you promise to not wake me with anything but an alarm clock.” “pinky promise.” you linked your pinkies and she smiled. 

you felt your heart ache for domesticity as you felt tashi softly breathing next to you, her warm body pressed up against every part of you due to the lack of space in your bed. she was wearing your pyjamas and her skin smelled faintly of your lotion. 

and weirdly enough, in the morning, tashi was the one to wake you up.

baby, why don't you come over?

red wine supernova

“are you sure you're ready?” tashi asked for the ten thousandth time as she clipped in her cartier earrings. “yes! what can i do to convince you that i am?” you pouted her, wrapping your finger around her wrist and swaying her arm gently.

“it's not that I'm not convinced, it's just that i'm worried about how cool you’re being.” she glanced at you from her peripheral. “are you saying i'm not normally cool? you really know how to hurt a girls feelings.” you dramatically placed the back of your hand against your forehead.

“hey, im being serious.” she suddenly said.

you dropped your hand. “i know, sorry. i promise i'm ready, and plus i don't think people will care that much anyway..right? i mean it's been like almost a year and a half since the divorce.”

you brushed some hair out of her face. it was longer now than it was when you first met her and darker too ever since she decided to let her natural brunette roots grow out.

“yes, but still, for whatever reason people were very invested in that whole thing and i don't want you to get dragged into a repeat.“ genuine concern shimmered in her cinnamon colored eyes.

“i want people to know about us. even if it'll lead to weird gossip articles. i don't care about that. i've met art, i've met lily, and their opinions mattered far more than the publics.” you tried to reassure her gently, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“i know, but-”

“we don't have to if you're not ready.” you interrupt her. you have been with tashi for almost a year now. 10 months, 2 weeks and 5 days. not that you were counting.

but because of that, you and her have decided to finally make your relationship public. not with an announcement or anything obviously, you would just be accompanying her to a fundraiser thrown by the donaldson foundation.

but this was still a big deal because ever since the challenger in new rochelle, journalists have been far too invested in tashi’s personal affairs, and that only worsened with the divorce.

you hugged her from behind and gently kissed up her neck until you felt the tension in her shoulders dissolve.

“but i feel like keeping it secret is stressing you out.” you glanced at her furrowed brow through the mirror.

“it is. i don't want it to be out of my control. i mean, i don't want people to be in my business at all but if they are going to be anyway i at least want to be in control of the story.” she said firmly, you hummed empathetically. “so, then..let’s go?”

she nodded, “yeah, lets go.” 

you nervously wrung your hands together the closer the car got to the venue were the fundraiser was held. tashi gave you a questioning look.

“now that you're not freaking out, i think it transferred to me," you chuckle shakily.

“you want to go back home?”

“no, no, its not that bad. just jitters.” you quickly shook your head. “are you sure?”

“i’m sure!”

“okay, well, tell me if that changes, okay?”

oh, and in that moment you were once again reminded of how much she cared for you that you felt the space you had carved out in your heart for her glow.

you smiled and pressed a short kiss to her lips, “yes, promise.”

the venue was extremely fancy that even though tashi had bought a dress for you just for this event you still felt underdressed.

it wasn't very flashy or anything but you don't think you've ever been in a room with this many rich people at once and that alone sent an itch of discomfort through your skin.

you felt a little bit like everyone could tell you didn't belong here and usually you wouldn't care because its true. this was not your scene.

but you cared now, because this was tashi’s  life. these kinds of events were a part of her in some way. and you wanted to be able to fit into that part of her. but now that you were here…what if you couldn't? what if you just couldn't do it? what if she realized you weren't fit for her life and she found someone that was? what if-

you felt tashi’s warm hand rest on your waist with a familiar pressure and your doubts were quickly muffled. you were sure they would come back full-force later, leading to you spending hours tossing and turning in bed before giving up at around 2 am and just binging your comfort shows all night long.

but right now, they were quiet, and you had tashi to thank for that.

“well, that was..” you tried to look for something nice to say. “boring.” tashi finished your sentence. “oh my god, yes! so boring!” you groaned, feeling instant relief that you didn't have to put up a front of genuinely enjoying the event.

tashi chuckled, pulling you in closer by your hip as you walked back out to the car. “i was expecting more drama.” you hummed. “at a fundraiser for new courts?” she raised a brow with the corners of her lips quirked up.

“no, well, yes, i mean because of us.”

“oh, well, that'll come. just not tonight. they would never say shit like that to my face.”

tashi had introduced you as her partner if the question came up, which you had thought would have been more exciting for you than it turned out to be.

yes, you were happy people would now know you as 'tashi duncan’s girlfriend'. thrilled, honestly, you would have shouted it from the rooftops after your first date if you could've.

but you realized that to the tennis world..that's really all you wanted to be. you didn't want people to know you, or your name, or get to know you through small-talk at boring galas and events.

because truthfully, none of this was you. you didn't know enough about tennis or the donaldson foundation to hold a proper conversation with any of these people.

and unlike earlier, you were content with that realization now because of what tashi had said to you earlier in the evening, when you managed to get away from the constant barrage of small talk and questions to step outside for just a moment. 

you sighed in relief as the cool night air filled your lungs, replacing the stuffy polished floor air from the venue. “you're too worried about impressing those people.” tashi started.

you turned your head towards her. “i want to leave a good impression.” you defend. you didn't want to embarrass her.

“i know. but it's..hard. watching you force yourself like that.” yikes. that one felt like a swift kick in the stomach.

you had never been very good at keeping a poker face so she quickly followed up, “i just meant…i don't want you to do that. you don't need to do that.” you absent-mindedly fiddled with your necklace, “what do you mean?” 

“all my relationships this far have been connected to tennis. and i thought that was good..or at least made sense. tennis has been the focal point of my life since i was 5 so, of course, it would find its place in my relationships too.” she leaned her hands against the railing,

“but it was like this..all-consuming thing. my identity was tied to not only tennis but also my relationships that had been forged through it.” she paused trying to think of how to best articulate herself.

“i think i lost a part of myself through that.” she murmured. “and i'm just about finding it again, and you have been so helpful in that, you dont even know.”

she looked at you with a weight of sincerity you felt sink into your heart.

“so i don't want you to change, or us to change. i don't need you to be art. i don't need you to be anyone you're not.” you were honestly speechless and you feared that you would burst into tears right now if you tried to muster up a response.

so you just quietly nodded (eyes getting misty despite your best efforts), took her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist before pulling her into a gentle embrace. 

you knew who you wanted to be to the public, and you knew who you wanted to be to her colleagues. you just wanted to be her pretty (perhaps controversially young?) girlfriend who really had only the most basic understanding of tennis and nothing else.

her thumb rubbed gently over the tennis bracelet that adorned your wrist which snapped you out of your thoughts.

she had given it to you as a present for your 6 month anniversary and you had immediately burst into tears babbling about how much you loved it and her and the universe for bringing you two together. (you were a little drunk)

god, what she wouldn't do to have a video of that night. by her expression you could already tell she was preparing to tease you about it.

“hey, do you remember-”

you let out an exasperated sigh, “yes, i do. stop reminding me.”

you could hear her snicker a little bit and you glared, “stop laughing.”

“i’m not!” she lied while actively laughing. unfortunately her laughter was pretty infectious so you soon joined with your own cacophony of giggles. 

your joined duet of laughter could be heard by guests leaving the fundraiser as it echoed through the quiet parking lot.

fall right into me.

“hey, look, i'm your rebound.” you grinned happily as you held up a tabloid that had a picture that was taken by some pap last week of you and tashi after your date with the headline:

“TASHI DUNCAN’S ON A REBOUND?”

tashi just rolled her eyes with an amused smile. “good for you, baby.” she gave you a small pat on the ass. “i know, i'm really moving up in the world.” you joked as you threw the magazine in the shopping cart. she gave you a look. “what? i wanna see what it says!” 

[pennyserenade]

lay down my body | raymond leon x reader

summary | after a disastrous event, you find your favorite timekeeper at your door. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, light degradation, sort of toxic dynamic, power imbalance, dirty talk, oral (female receiving). word count | 2k+ a/n | not beta'd because i just wanted to write something because i haven't in a hot minute.

Raymond brackets your face between his hands, his eyes glacial, his lips pressed into an unimpressed line of dissatisfaction as he examines you. An ugly surge of desire forms in your lower belly as his calloused fingers brush against the bruised skin around your eye.

“Stupid girl,” he admonishes. The warm timbre of his voice draws a lick of want through your aching body, mean as it is. You grab onto his wrists, pushing them away from your face.

“I told you not to come tonight,” you say.

“I come when I please,” he says, indignant.

Tuesday night found you desperate, fighting as you never had before while the minutes on your arm dwindled down to seconds. An angry part of you wants to punish Raymond, to look at him with your bruised flesh and say, “What was I supposed to do, wait for you?” but you’re half afraid he’ll say something infinitely more unkind. He does that sometimes: punishes your cruelty with a form of violence you hadn’t known existed until you started to care for him. He has spent too long not looking after anyone but himself, so it is a self-preserving form of affection he administers.

This man doesn’t seem to know the totality of borrowed time—not with the way he turns your head in his hands again, looking over bits of you he’s already seen. You try not to tell him he’s wasting time, but it’s hard—you feel the full measure of a minute every time it goes by, and hate to spend it like this.

“I worked harder last week so I could have this night off,” you grumble, despite yourself. You push his hands away from you again, this time more firmly.

His jaw tenses. The irritation has begun to set in the crevices of his wearied soul.

“You don’t want me to go and I suggest you stop pretending you do. I might just do it, and then you’ll have a lot more than some common thug on the street to worry about.”

He nudges your arm pathetically, the green clock slowly ticking away on it. You despise the way he holds his favors over you. No matter how snug he’s got you under his thumb, he won’t ever receive your blind submission. In a flare of anger, you knock past him and head to the none too lavish bed. Bending over it, you look back to him expectantly.

“What are you doing?” he says.

You raise an eyebrow - a daring challenge. “Thought I better give you what you want before—“

Raymond rushes across the room like he’s forgotten the luxury of his long, sure minutes. Taking your arm in his hand, he tugs you upward with the sheer force of his anger. His fingers grip onto your chin; you watch as a dangerous fire alights within him. “Better not do that, kitten,” he huffs, voice steady even despite the evident anger etched in his features. He presses your body into his own, the grip on your arm beginning to ache.

“You’re hurting me,” you tell him softly.

He loosens his hold on you, but not his vitriol. “If you want to be fucked like a common whore, just ask for it. No need to suggest that I’m some kind of…creep when you know I’m angry because I—“

His words trail off, all that meaning floating in the air between you. Because I care. To him, that’s more dangerous than stolen time.

You soften, putting your hand on top of his. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Who says I do? You’re nothing to me. Not really,” he responds coolly.

You run your tongue over your teeth, observing him, watching the carefully designed face of neutrality staring back at you. His indifference is a cruelty.

“We’re running out of time,” you remind.

He looks down at your arm. Two minutes. With lips pursued, he looks back at your eyes. You see the wheels turning in his head, all that careful calculating. Of all the things he is, and he is many, clever was not what you expected. But he is clever. You wish he would use it for better.

“You think I make you earn your life,” he enunciates, a tinny quality infecting his voice, “so earn it.”

There’s a sick pleasure that you derive from the lack of emotion in his eyes. You want him so badly it confuses you. There’s an ugly thing that exists inside of you and it wants, wants, wants him. He feeds it. It’s the same thing that makes you bend back over the bed, fingers gripping the comforter, your ass high. Beneath your dress, you wear a flimsy excuse for underwear.

You feel the bulk of him behind you. He smells of leather and sandalwood. If you close your eyes, you can remember what desire looks like on him. There’s heat in your belly that doesn’t simmer as you listen to him take a step closer.

He leans over and knocks your hands from beneath you, forcing you to lie on the bed. The cool of his leather ensemble against the warmth of your skin is an enthralling contrast. “Keep your wrist down,” he demands, voice low and sultry. “We’re gonna play a game, whore.”

Whore. The word causes a confusing pool of desire to gather between your legs. You want to punch him in the mouth. He’s never called you that before. But you like how the grit of the word sounded in his throat. You like how he takes charge. You always have. Every desperate person wants a God, and there’s something comforting about the way he tells you to kneel at his altar.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your cheap makeup rubbing off on the shoddy comforter, you await his next move like a prisoner awaits death. Anticipation courses through you as you listen to the sound of his voice, the rustle of his movements, feeling the ghost of him against you as he plots your demise.

“I’ll give you your beloved time, baby,” he coos, his fingers resting on your hips. They squeeze at your flesh there greedily, a warning for what is to come. His nose brushes against your neck, his breath hot against you as he says, “But you’re going to have to cum first. Not a second before. I think you can do that, can’t you? Because despite your pissy attitude, I know just how wet you get for me. And there’s the matter of life and death too. Everyone’s a whore when it comes down to seconds.”

He presses his lips to the back of your neck, moving down your body gradually. Eventually, you feel the ghost of his breath on your nearly exposed ass. Raymond wastes no time drawing up your dress.

“Spread your legs further,” he instructs. You do, eyebrows drawing together as his fingers grope at the flesh of your ass. There are angry imprints no doubt forming as he hums in delight.

“You’re just as wet as I thought you’d be.” His finger ghost downwards, rubbing over your clothed cunt. You can feel the desire that coats your underwear as he presses down. If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated by the way your body wants him.

Pulling aside the fabric of your flimsy underwear, he presses open mouthed kisses on your ass cheeks. His teeth glide dangerously across the skin too, until he reaches your cunt; when he reaches there, he dives in, his tongue plunging in the warmth of you while two of his fingers rub against your clit.

This is new, and would hardly be a punishment at all if not for the fact that your clock is running out and you can’t see it. Raymond eats at you like a man starved, the slick of his salvia lubricating you better than your own want. He moves his fingers furiously, grunting into you when you dare to push back into him for more.

“Stay still,” he demands gruffly, taking his mouth off of you. You comply, hard as it is to do when he’s touching you like this. “I know you’re close, baby. You’re gonna come on my tongue, aren’t you? Like the good little whore you are for me?”

His tongue swipes through your folds again, lapping up your combined fluids as his fingers press down with more intent on your clit. You fight with everything in you not to move. Your grip on the bedspread tightens and you huff quietly into the mattress, the tension boiling up inside of you. He could split you open right now and you’d thank him for it.

“Ray—” you moan. His nose edges against your cunt as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking obscenely. You can’t stop the way the orgasm takes you, nor do you want to; it’s overwhelming, a thing that happens all through you. Every sense is heightened. When he moans against your cunt, you nearly shatter against him.

He yanks you down quickly, pulling your limp body back on top of him. Before you’ve got time to figure out what he’s doing, he’s flipping over your arm. The green fluorescent numbers tick away. 55 seconds. 54 seconds. He sheds his leather jacket, exposing his forearm. You close your eyes when he holds it over yours. He cradles your jaw with his other hand, an oddly intimate act.

When he moves his arm off of you, you open your eyes. You don’t look at how much time he’s gifted you, but at him. His face of neutrality is all broken up before you, lips smooth with your slick, cheeks red from his own want. Even his eyes betray him as they glance down at you.

You’ve frightened each other. It's intoxicating. You feel the thrum of your heart beating against your chest. He struggles to catch his breath.

Raymond presses his lips to yours in a furious kiss. His hand tilts your head for easier access, and you push up, moving yourself further up his body.

“Not so tough now,” he growls. His fingers pinch at your chin.

You lick your lips, which now taste of you, rolling your eyes up at him. “Doesn’t seem like you are either.”

He grunts in displeasure, running his calloused thumb lightly against your wet lip. “You just want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?”

You turn your wrist. 2 days he’s given you, which is about 24 hours more than usual. The hunger for him makes you ravenous as you consider what he’s just said to you. You ignore it in favor of something more substantial: asking why.

“You don’t usually carry that much time with you.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “One of my little birdies told me about what happened to you.”

“So, what—you gave me some more time to be robbed of as a solution?”

He shakes his head, slightly annoyed. “No. I gave you more time so I could keep you here and show you how and where you should be spending it.” His fingers dip below the collar of your dress. “Stop being a fucking brat.”

“I never liked being told what to do,” you murmur as his thumb skirts over your nipple. He watches your eyes grow heavy as he swirls his finger over it.

“And yet,” he smirks, nodding down to your body.

You mirror his smirk, knowing he’s right. Even if you’ve got something of a paltry life, things like this can still happen, and that’s something, isn’t it? Knowing that things - people - like him, even in all the cruelty, can still rescue you.

Your fingers reach up and run over the pout of his lips. As your eyes search each other’s, you come to a silent agreement: a pledge to care. It’s a stupid, foolish flash of sentimentality you see before it’s masked again by your own respective desires and lust.

It’s almost as good as the time he’s given you—almost as good as all the time he could ever give you.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Rosaura Revueltas (Salt of the Earth)—She was a Mexican actress who is best known for starring in salt of the earth, an amazing pro-labor movie made by blacklisted filmmakers. She also starred in the Mexican remake of madchen in uniform, one of the first representations of lesbian romance onscreen. She was really dedicated to making progressive films and was also such an incredible actress and artist I truly believe more people should know about her and her work.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Cyd Charisse:

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

No additional propaganda was submitted for Rosaura Revueltas. Please send me some.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

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, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. “We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you squirmed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 33

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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[greengirlfight]

💚GREEN GIRL BRACKET!💚

Here's the official bracket for the Green Girl Fight! The first round of polls will be posted in 4 parts, and each part will last a week. Round 1 polls will be tagged as #round 1, and I should have the first part up by June 26th! So start getting your propaganda ready!

Full list of names under the cut!

Elphaba/Wicked Witch of the West (Wicked/Wizard of Oz) VS Mossie (Cattails)

Takane Yamashiro (Touhou) VS Nepeta Leijon (Homestuck)

Tree Hugger (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) VS Rottytops (Shantae)

Collei (Genshin Impact) VS Emira Blight (The Owl House)

Ibara Shiozaki (My Hero Academia) VS Demeter (Lore Olympus)

Lime Cookie (Cookie Run) VS Usura (Princess Tutu)

Nott the Brave (Critical Role) VS FF/Foo Fighters (Jojo's Bizzare Adventure)

Vera Oberlin (Monster Prom) VS Saria (Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time)

Leaf Fairy Aoba (Guardian Tales) VS Kyoshi (Avatar The Last Airbender)

Jade Harley (Homestuck) VS Freya Fatima (Coffee Talk)

Wakasagihime (Touhou) VS Nevanthi (AFK Arena)

Frankie Stein (Monster High) VS Sam (Totally Spies)

Cure Oasis (Tropical Rogue Precure) VS Fauna (Sleeping Beauty)

Green M&M (M&M's Candy) VS Tiki (Fire Emblem)

The Dolorosa (Homestuck) VS Polaris (X-Men)

Mew Lettuce (Tokyo Mew Mew) VS Jessica Cruz (Green Lantern)

Doc Ock (Spiderverse) VS Sandy (TokiDoki: Cactus Friends)

Aisha (Winx Club) VS Fire (DC Comics)

Cure March (Smile Precure) VS Illusen (Neopets)

Lottie Person/Snotgirl (Snotgirl) VS Mashiro Kuna (Bleach)

Rhea (Fire Emblem) VS Ermes (Jojo's Bizzare Adventure)

Number 3/Kuki Sanban (Codename: Kids Next Door) VS Tisiphone (Hades)

Nasmira Satrinava (The Arcana Mystic Romance) VS Mei (Lego Monkie Kid)

Porrim Maryam (Homestuck) VS Tiana (Princess and the Frog)

Sailor Pluto (Sailor Moon) VS Pidge Holt (Voltron Legendary Defender)

Divine Beast of Harvest Mayreel (Guardian Tales) VS Disgust (Inside Out)

Vendetta (Making Friends) VS Scarah Screams (Monster High)

Terrible Tornado (One Punch Man) VS Gwen Mortia (Sleepless Domain)

INFP (MBTI) VS Hera Syndulla (Star Wars Rebels)

Buttercup (Powerpuff Girls) VS Cure Mint (Yes! Precure 5)

Peridot (Steven Universe) VS L'Archel (Fire Emblem)

Granny Smith (My Little Pony) VS Willow Park (The Owl House)

Nowi (Fire Emblem Awakening) VS Tsuyu Asui (My Hero Academia)

Peridot (Cucumber Quest) VS Cheadle Yorkshire (Hunter x Hunter)

Kirika Akatsuki (Symphogear) VS Tinkerbell (Disney Fairies)

Cure Felice (Mahoutsukai Precure) VS Minty (My Little Pony G3)

Amphitrite (Lore Olympus) VS Artemis (Hades)

Gamora (Marvel) VS Shiho Hinomori (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage)

Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty) VS Fearne Callaway (Critical Role)

Candice Catnipp (Bleach) VS Fink (OK KO!)

Miss Edel (Princess Tutu) VS Test Tube (Inanimate Insanity)

Honey Swamp (Monster High) VS Heather Duke (Heathers)

Harpy Gee (Harpy Gee) VS Sanae Kochiya (Touhou)

Jolyne Cujoh (Jojo's Bizzare Adventure) VS Lyn (Fire Emblem)

Sailor Neptune (Sailor Moon) VS Fiona (Shrek)

Marie (Splatoon) VS CC (Code Geass)

Flayn (Fire Emblem) VS Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Setsuna Tokage (My Hero Academia) VS Anode (Transformers IDW)

Sailor Jupiter (Sailor Moon) VS Chie Satonaka (Persona 4)

Rosie Cotton (Lord of the Rings) VS Gumi (Vocaloid)

Eternity Larva (Touhou) VS Mallow (Pokémon)

Gavial (Arknights) VS Nene Kusanagi (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage)

Marcy Wu (Amphibia) VS Marina (Splatoon)

Kaede Kayano (Assassination Classroom) VS Inko Midoriya (My Hero Academia)

Byleth (Fire Emblem Three Houses) VS Toph Beifong (Avatar The Last Airbender)

Te Fiti (Moana) VS Rina Touin (Mermaid Melody Pitchi Pitchi Pitch)

Venus McFlytrap (Monster High) VS Palmon (Digimon Adventure)

Tekno the Canary (Sonic) VS Ceres Fauna (HoloLive)

Cure Milky (Star Twinkle Precure) VS Shego (Kim Possible)

Clara Valac (Welcome to Demon School Iruma-Kun!) VS Dusa (Hades)

Futaba Sakura (Persona 5) VS Poison Ivy (DC Comics)

Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck) VS Rika (Pokémon Scarlet & Violet)

Surge the Tenrec (Sonic) VS She-Hulk (Marvel)

Sothis (Fire Emblem Three Houses) VS Rue (Sleepless Domain)

[namedafterflowerstournament]

Botanic Tournament : Main Bracket !

Round 8

With the participation of the lovely @lunathewafflelord's sweet female dog Lemon "Poppy" Poppyseed Muffin

Nepeta is the genus of catnip

Toph means lotus

Utena means calyx, "the ring of small green leaves (called sepals) that protect a flower before it opens"

Anthy means flower

NB : Nepeta's surname is written correctly in the tags, but I can't change it on the poll itself

(Roses, rue, poppy, catnip, lotus, bay leaves, strawberries, calyx of a flower, pine)

"But op this isn't a flower name" : read this

No antipropaganda on my polls please

[dxckgrxsonx]

Just the Tip

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 500ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Slight Size Kink because Jason is just so big - Swearing

Notes - My darlings!! It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything and you’ve been so patient so uhhh here you go?? Hope you enjoy <3

**

“Just the tip.” Jason promises, lying thick and smug through his teeth. His eyes are dark, gleaming, you see the heated swirl of something lustful and almost dominating settle under all that beautifully shimmering Lazarus green and you know without uttering a single word that you’re completely fucked. “Need to fuck you now, baby, I can’t help myself.”

“I’m going to be late.” You try, writhing under the weight of Jason’s body, pinned on your back against the mattress. “Jason–baby come on, you’re making me late–again. There’s only so many excuses I can use before someone gets suspicious.”

Greedy palms smooth up your waist, fingers snagging the hem of your shirt and dragging it up until it settles in a bunch under your chin. Your shaking thighs bracket Jason’s strong hips and you feel him hot and deliciously heavy between your legs.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He soothes, but it's more of a threat than a reassurance. The gravel of his voice pitches lower when his wicked mouth drags up your throat and you swallow, words jamming up behind your teeth. “I’ll be quick.”

Another lie.

The corner of his mouth slips up into a half grin when your foot smacks his ass and Jason pinches your thigh in retaliation. Bastard. Flinching your thighs apart at the sharp sting Jason hums and strokes the pad of his thumb up and down your leaking slit.

“You know, for someone who complains so much you sure are wet.”

“I’m late is what I am.” You grumble. There’s no bite to your words and Jason knows it, grins at it, pushes you further until there's the faintest hint of teeth sharpening your voice. It’s thrilling, exhilarating, almost like dodging gunfire or winning a fistfight.

It makes him feel alive.

Wiping your own arousal over the inside of your thigh Jason notches the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. The flushed head snags at the sides of your sensitive hole and you whimper through the burn as he rocks forwards, grinding himself into your pussy until it gives and opens up for him.

“You can take the tip, can’t you?” Jason breathes, “You are late after all.”

Resting your palms against his shoulders you whine, “I usually need a little more time to prepare. You’re so goddamn big.” Your pussy clenches up tight when Jason slides a little bit deeper and you groan, long and low in the back of your throat. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

“There you go.” Jason praises. “Such a good girl for me.”

Quietly nudging himself deeper you feel yourself drip over the sheets, cunt split wide open around Jason's cock. Embarrassment makes your face burn and you choke on a whimper when Jason keeps sneaking more of himself into your desperate, grasping pussy.

Bottoming out Jason glances down and watches you throb on his cock, the base slick and creamy with your arousal.

Just the tip?

He’s such a fucking liar.

**

[disease]

"UNTITLED" // 2007 YOSHITOMO NARA 奈良 美智 [coloured pencil on coloured paper | 16 ½ x 11 5/8"]

With her short cropped hair, dark green dress and rebellious energy, the girl in Untitled (2007) emits the youthful defiance that has come to typify works by Yoshitomo Nara. [...]

"He is widely celebrated for his paintings and coloured pencil drawings of juvenile, cartoonish characters with large gazing eyes and endearing personalities. They inhabit imagined and insouciant paper worlds, brandish absurd objects and props—knives, sprouts, cigarettes, and electric guitars—and express a wide range of capricious, childlike emotion. Stern and somewhat sulky, our subject hovers in indeterminate space. She stands upon a Japanese flag with her small feet positioned perfectly over its crimson sun. Emblazoned around her miniature figure are the words ‘Up Yours!’, and, ‘All the Nations!’. As an advocate of peace, questions of nationhood, conflict and world politics weave through Nara’s art in such pithy phrases and symbols. Exhibited at the Centro de Arte Contemporáneo de Málaga—the first show of the artist’s work in Spain in 2007-2008—the present work was one of twenty coloured pencil drawings hung along the final wall of the gallery.

Born in 1959 in Japan’s rural Aomori Prefecture, Nara’s youth was marked by his country’s rapid post-war economic development and an influx of Western pop-culture, from Disney animation to punk and rock and roll. The artist expresses heartfelt nostalgia for the retro media—record-sleeves and comic books—that offered escapism from an otherwise solitary childhood. ‘Of course if you think back to the ’70s,’ he says, ‘information moved very differently. There was no Internet obviously and even the release date of albums in Japan could be delayed as much as six months … I would just sit there, listen to the music, look at the art on the cover and I think I really developed my imagination through that’ (N. Hegert, ‘Interview with Yoshitomo Nara,’ Artslant, 18 September 2010). This sensitivity to the worn, tactile quality of objects is triumphant in his art today and distinguishes him from the likes of Takashi Murakami and his Superflat movement. Untitled bears the enlivening traces of artist’s hand, present in the rough ‘outside-the-line’ scribbles that imply the girl’s messy hair. Bracketed with Nara’s unfiltered, handwritten text, the image feels distinctly personal, like a secret note exchanged between friends.

As early as his time at Aichi Prefectural University of Fine Arts in the 1980s, Nara began to draw onto envelopes, cardboard, and scraps of found paper. He continued these explorations at the prestigious Kunstakademie Düsseldorf where, under the tutorship of German Neo-Expressionist painter A. R. Penck, he was encouraged to work fluidly between painting and drawing. ‘I [loved] to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up’, Nara has said. ‘Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected [with] memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose’ (Y. Nara, ‘Nobody’s Fool’, in N. Miyamura and S. Suzuki (eds.), Yoshitomo Nara: The Complete Works, Volume 1: Paintings, Sculptures, Editions, Photographs 1984-2010, San Francisco 2011, p. 43). Mischievous, cute, and quietly ferocious, the present work attests to the enduring appeal of Nara’s little rebels." — via Christie's

[dxntloseurhead]

ROUND ONE