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restlesspazzi04 · 4 months ago

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Love Island: A Pazzi Fic

Part 1: Day 3

Genre: I've somehow managed to think up a forbidden love/enemies to lovers/reformed player/slow burn love island fic all together so imma pat myself on the back bc ive been getting so many asks for all five

A/N:

This is just the introduction chapter to a series that will be very loosely updated as it's more of a fun project i'm working on but hope you guys enjoy because this is just me riding off the love island hyperfixation im in lol

Extra Note: this is will be on tumblr only mainly bc this series will be trash and purely for my self entertainment so idc as much. slow falling will remain on ao3 only :)

ik some people have difficulty reading on tumblr tho so if i get enough asks i will put this on ao3 if its easier

word count: 3.2k (this will fluctuate depending on my mood)

Format Clarification:

When the contestant name is in front of the text, that means it's a cutaway and not actually said in the villa!

anything in italics is to be read in Iain Stirling voice please i love him

Day 3:

It's day 3 and it's heating up in the villa! Will the current couples pass the test of temptation as two new bombshells enter for the ultimate challenge? Find out here on Love Island USA: WLW Sports Edition!

When Paige first got the call that she was nominated for Love Island, she knew who put her name in the sea of women’s athletes picked for the show. With her social media agents wanting to get the “player” allegations away from her image to make herself more marketable, she was a shoo-in for the show.

Paige was confident in her coupling. Ellie, the Olympic swimmer from Australia, was up her ally of girls: hot, brunette, and gay. They had been going strong for the first three days in the villa, with Ellie picking Paige on Day 1 coupling. In the mess of drama the other couples were whirlwind into, they had remained together as a voice of reason.

“I’m just not really feeling her I don’t know,” Kate groans, slapping the ping pong ball back to Paige.

“Bro it’s been three days and you’re already tired of your match? Couldn’t be me.” Paige responds, returning the ball.

Kate and Paige being the only WNBA athletes in the villa naturally stuck together as close friends, being each other's confidants on Love Island. They had the common ground of basketball solidifying their sisterhood and frequently took each other's advice.

“It’s not that. I just feel like there’s no spark. Sarah is great and all, but I can’t imagine spending the rest of my villa time with her.”

“Why don’t you explore your options tonight if we recouple? That’ll start some crazy drama.” Paige laughs mischievously, wiggling her eyebrows at an unamused Kate Martin.

“All the other couples are pretty locked in and I don’t wanna be a homewrecker… plus they’re probably bringing in new bombshells today if I got the formula right. Hopefully, they’re my type because I don’t think it’s working out for me and Sarah. ”

“New bombshells? I mean none of them better be basketball players. That’s Ellie’s type to a T. It was hard enough fighting against you.” Paige jokes, slightly concerned at the idea of new people. It wasn’t like she and Ellie were completely locked in, but Paige knew she’d be at risk of getting kicked off the show if any of the new bombshells coupled up with Ellie.

“Ellie is not my type. She’s too nice. I need some passion in my girl."

“I like nice. She’s sweet and brings me orange juice in the morning.” Paige says, dropping her paddle when Kate sends the ball flying past her head, "Drama stresses me out. That's why Ellie is perfect for me."

“Nah, I like a little fight. It’s hot when a girl is mad at you… you should know better than me ‘Miss Star Point Guard on the Golden State Valkyries’. Aren’t women always fighting over you?”

“I already told you I’m not a player in the real world or the villa. Why does no one on the island believe me?” Paige exclaims, plopping down on the way-to-colorful couch in the Villa playroom.

“I don’t know… maybe you’re insane eye contact with everyone you meet?” Kate says sarcastically, taking her seat next to Paige.

“Blame my parents! They’re the ones who told me that eye contact is respectful." Paige argues before adding, "I can’t help I got beautiful eyes.”

“Shut u-"

Kate is effectively cut off when KK Harvey starts screaming "I GOT A TEXT" throughout the entire villa, everyone making their way to the poolside where she was sitting.

"Islanders please gather at the fire pit for a surprise! #WatchOutCouples #Bout to drop a bomb!" KK reads loudly, the whole villa shouting in response.

"Welp, I guess this is your moment to find a new girl." Paige sighs, making her way over to the fire pit.

"Not yours?"

"Nope, I'm pretty happy with Ellie."

"You sure about that? Not even keeping an open eye?" Kate teased, ragging on Paige's loyalty.

"I'm definitely not re-coupling with some newcomer." Paige asserts firmly.

"If you say so."

As the Islanders all flock to the firepit, taking their seats next to their partners, they await for further instruction.

“I GOT A TEXT!” Kate hoots out as the other islanders get excited, “It says ‘Get ready as your two new bombshells join you guys in the villa! #AreYouReady?’”

Paige looks over at Ellie, who’s already gripping tighter on Paige’s arm at the news of Bombshells.

“I hope they’re not your type,” Ellie whispers shyly into Paige’s ear. It was a cute gesture, one that should’ve made Paige blush. Paige just gives her a reassuring squeeze on the arm, leaning in to whisper back.

“I already got a beautiful girl, don’t worr-”

Paige is interrupted as shouting rings through the villa as two new girls make their way into the villa.

“Bro, can you see her?” Kate says, pulling Paige up immediately as two figures appear in the distance.

“Not with you jumping on my shoulders.” Paige retorts back, leaning up to get a better look, “They’re tall.”

“Wait, I think I recognize one of them,” Kate says with her eyes squinted

Kate: You guys are ruthless in bringing my exact type. Fuck, I want to stay loyal to Sarah but I do still want to keep my options open, you know?

Paige has to brace herself for this entrance. She recognized the two bombshells immediately as they got closer. The WNBA world was small and both of these contestants were prominent figures in the league. Azzi Fudd and Nika Muhl, the star guards for the LA Sparks would be joining the girls on the island.

“No way they brought in more girls from the league!” Kate whispers into Paige’s ear.

“Did they run out of gays for other sports? Or is the league just super gay?” Paige responds in a nervous whisper. Ellie had literally told Paige on the first day that her type was basketball girls and it was one of the main reasons why Ellie had picked her. It was not to Paige’s advantage to have multiple girls chasing after her girl.

“Wait, I know both of them. We worked out together at Kelsey Plum’s dawg class for a few days. She’s super hot not gonna lie.” Kate whispered lowly so Sarah wouldn’t hear.

“Oh yeah, I’ve met them a few times. Did you know that they both were gonna come to UCONN but chose UCLA last minute?” Paige droned on, her eyes oddly trained on Azzi as they finally reached the fire pit. It suddenly dawned on Paige that she had never seen the younger girl in a bikini and it set an uncomfortable fire ablaze in her stomach.

Azzi: Hi, my name is Azzi Fudd and I’m a 5’ 11” shooting guard for the Sparks. I wanted to come to Love Island to find my future wife and make a strong connection with someone. I have been in a lot of relationships and they don’t seem to go well for me, so I hope I find my match here!

Nika: I’m Nika Muhl and I’m a 6’ foo-

Azzi: 5’ 10” don’t lie Nika

Nika: Don’t cut me off! Anyway, I’m a point guard for the LA Sparks and I wanted to come to Love Island to finally find my love match and establish a strong connection. I’m super excited to meet the Islanders.

Another text sound rings through the air, coming from Azzi’s hand.

“Bombshell’s Azzi and Nika, Pick two people to go on dates with tomorrow before bed tonight. Have fun getting to know everyone tonight in the villa! #newcomers #shootyourshot!” Azzi read out, inciting excitement through the villa again.

“Hey you’re Azzi and Nika, right? Guard’s on the Sparks?” Coco asks, making room for them around the fire pit to welcome them.

“Yeah, we’re shocked they picked us to go together since we knew each other. You’re Coco Gauff. I’m a big fan.” Azzi gushes, hugging Coco.

“Hey Kate,” Nika says, acknowledging the blonde in the crowd as she scans around, “How’s the island?”

“Good. Surprised to see you guys here but I’m hyped. We need more basketball representation in here.” Kate jokes.

“We get enough ‘basketball is the best sport’ debating from these two. Now we got more.” KK Harvey jokes, motioning to the two basketball blondes in the pit.

“Basketball is amazing though, you gotta admit.” Azzi plays along, earning a few lighthearted groans from the rest of the villa.

“Just promise you shut up Paige before she goes on a whole rant. Kate just eggs on that little pest.” Coco groans.

“I’m never wrong Coco, don’t play with me. Tennis is fun but basketball is art.” Paige says, earning more groans from the group. “Do you guys know who you wanna pull for chats?” Ellie asks the two bombshells, jutting into the conversation.

“Um, I have my eyes on a few people but I’m gonna see for the next few hours as I get to know more people on the island,” Nika responds.

“We know you guys are in couples right now, but we just wanted to wait until we got to know more people’s vibes,” Azzi adds, looking around all the girls in the pit. A few couples had already gone off to different parts of the villa, but she was getting a good look at everyone left. There were a few people on her radar and a few people who weren’t.

Azzi: Kate was making some pretty clear eye contact with me, but she’s on my “pulling for chats” roster.

The group spends the next few minutes getting to know each other and filling in the two on the island news. Paige tried to focus on Ellie squeezing her arm, but she was distracted by things she couldn’t comprehend.

Things such as Azzi Fudd making flashing bouts of eye contact with her to no end. Paige was not one to falter at strong eye contact, but she couldn’t help but grow slightly nervous under the shooting guard's gaze. It wasn’t rare for Paige to catch the eye of someone. New people entering the villa the past few days had flocked to her, but she rejected them to no avail to remain loyal to Ellie. It was still fun flirting and making stable eye contact was one of her specialties. But Azzi Fudd seemed to be looking at her with a specific glint that Paige couldn’t pinpoint.

Paige: Did you guys see the way she was looking at me? I can’t tell if she wants me in her bed or wants me dead.

Annoyance? Lust? Hatred? C’mon Paige tell us what you see!

“So you guys want a little villa tour?” Kate asks suddenly while stepping slightly closer to Azzi, “It’s super nice.”

The group makes their way around the villa, showing the two new islanders all the spots. Ellie and Paige stayed hand-in-hand as they walked, Ellie refusing to let go. Even when Paige got closer to Azzi coincidentally, the shooting guard would make it a point to take two steps away and it didn’t help that Ellie was pulling her in the other direction. They end up at the rooms as they finish off the night, the girls entering their assigned makeup rooms to get ready for bed. Azzi is put into Paige, Kate, Coco, and KK’s room, getting spilt up from Nika.

“So Azzi, what do you think of the villa?” Coco asks while wiping her makeup off.

“It’s nice, bigger than I expected. Soul ties are a lot more secretive than I thought.” Azzi answers, unpacking her bags.

“Yeah, a lot of shit goes down there. If you go to soul ties at night we know you’re fucking or something.” KK laughs.

“Do you know who you’re picking for your dates tomorrow? You get two right?” Paige asks, speaking up for the first time.

“Yeah, two. I’m not sure who I’m picking yet. I think they’re asking me to pick in an hour so I have time to think in the shower.”

“What’s your type?” Kate asks Azzi boldly, getting an approval look from Paige.

“Uhh, I tend to focus a lot on personality. Just someone who can match my competitiveness and my energy. But if we’re talking looks, I tend to go for tall blondes.” Azzi says casually, immediately getting Kate to snap her eyes to Paige.

Paige: Is Azzi flirting with me or Kate? If it’s me, I’m in trouble. Ellie is not going to be happy if I go on a date tomorrow.

“Is there a separate shower room? I need to unpack my bottles.” Azzi says while standing up.

“Yeah, it’s down the hall to the left. That’s where our group showers.” Coco instructs, getting a nod of thank you before Azzi leaves.

“Hold up, was she talking about me?” Kate polls the group the second Azzi safely leaves the room, “Or was she walking about the other two blondies?”

“I think she was just stating her type buddy.” KK Harvey jokes, “Plus, she’s totally talking about me. She’s been giving me the eyes.”

“Really?” Paige chimes in curiously, “Like slightly angry but confusingly hot?”

“No, like she wanna look into my soul…What type of looks is she giving you?” KK questions.

“Nothing… she wasn’t really looking at me, just wondering,” Paige adds quickly. She was probably just overthinking due to the reveal of her type.

“Back off KK, you’re happy with Kylie. Sarah and I have been distant for days.” Kate playfully challenges.

“Kylie’s great, but Azzi and Nika are hot, not going to lie. I kinda hope I get to go on the date with them. Don’t tell Kylie though, she might kill me.”

“As long as you don’t tell Sarah. I wanna test my connection with the bombshells but I don’t want to blindside Sarah.”

“You guys are acting like Azzi and Nika want you guys. She could be talking about girls in the other room.” Coco jokes, butting into the heated debate.

“Please, Coco. We get it. You and Paige are in happy little couples and don’t need to worry about recoupling. I would say Kylie would leave me the second another hockey girl comes in here.” KK says sarcastically before adding, “I’ve never gone for a basketball girl before.”

“I have. And I know them better than you loser. Azzi said tall, that means basketball. She was clearly talking about me.” Kate argues back.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige says suddenly, jumping from her makeup chair.

“Where are you going?” Kate asks as Paige starts exiting the room.

“Just going to chat with Azzi for a bit. Nothing serious. I’ll be back in 30 seconds.” Paige says quickly, ignoring any questioning she got from the group.

Paige makes her way down the hall, knocking twice on the shower room door before it slowly squeaks open.

“It’s unlocked,” Azzi says simply, her composure even.

“Oh. Some people are uncomfortable with people coming in during showers so I always knock. Wasn’t sure if you were showering.”

“Nope, just unpacking,” Azzi says shortly, confusing Paige again, “Do you need to shower? I can leave.”

“Oh, no. I actually wanted to talk to you real quick before you pick your dates for tomorrow.” Paige starts.

“Sure, what did you want to talk about?” Azzi asks cautiously, continuing to organize her skincare on her shelf.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m in a pretty solid connection with Ellie and I don’t want you to waste your date on me because I’m mostly taken. You can still pick me, but I just want to be transparent from the beginning before we get to know each other.” Paige says while sitting up on the sink.

Azzi stood up from her packing, giving Paige a focused look of mild confusion.

“What makes you think I’m picking you?” Azzi asks with an even tone, eyes unwavering from Paige’s.

“Well, you said tall blondes are your type and that’s only me and Kate. So I assumed you’d use your two picks on us.” Paige says, slightly less confident.

Azzi steps closer to Paige, closing the gap between them.

“Is it true that if you take off your top they can’t air it because it’s nudity?” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear, pulling the blonde in.

“Uh, yeah? They can’t air it. But they get kinda annoyed when we do it and talk about villa stuff.” Paige whispers shakily into Azzi’s ear.

“Turn your head,” Azzi says as she takes two steps back, swiftly taking off her bikini top.

Paige had never swiveled so hard, almost falling off the sink counter. Paige turned her head halfway before she realized she could see Azzi in the mirror reflection, leading her to close her eyes as fast as possible.

“I know your reputation in the league, but I’m not trying to air out your business on TV, so I’m going to speak like this,” Azzi yells out before turning around, “You can turn around now, it’s just my back.”

Paige opens her eyes to see Azzi’s long braids flowing down her bare back, the only article of clothing being her bottom bikini. Azzi turned her head to speak.

“How are you going to judge me on my so-called reputation?” Paige questioned back, getting offended at the “Player” accusations she hated.

“You ghosted one of my friends, so don’t act surprised I’m cautious of you. I came to the Villa to find love and take home the win.”

“So did I. You haven’t seen me with Ellie. I have a lot of layers, you’d be surprised.” Paige says with a smirk, her voice growing bolder.

“Layers? Yeah, ten layers of player. I know what you did to Alyssa.”

“Alyssa? Who’s that?” Paige asks, racking her brain for possible Alyssa’s in her past.

“Jesus, you don’t even remember her. That’s crazy.” Azzi scoffs accusatorily, “Anyway, don’t worry. I won’t pick you for the date, I’m not going to intrude on you and Ellie. Seems like you guys are happy.”

Paige watches as Azzi slips her bikini back on. Watching the muscles on her back contract as she pulls her top over her head. Her bare skin was addicting to look

So addicting, Paige was caught red-handed admiring her as Azzi turned back around.

“You sure you're happy with Ellie?” Azzi jokes dryly.

“Very. She’s a great girl. Exactly my type.” Paige challenges back, leaning her body toward Azzi.

“What is your type, Paige?”

“Hot, Brunette, Pretty Eyes,” Paige says a little quieter as Azzi steps a little too close for comfort.

“I see,” Azzi answers, nodding her head.

“Don’t think I’m calling you my type. You just happen to fit it.” Paige adds weakly.

“You saying I got pretty eyes? I know I'm the other two.” Azzi asks playfully, opening the door to the shower room.

“Maybe. Let me look into them longer and I’ll decide.” Paige chirps back, a surge of confidence coursing through her.

“In your dreams, Bueckers.” Azzi sings out with a laugh as she takes her exit, leaving a mildly dazed Paige on the sink.

This was certainly going to be an interesting summer in the Villa for Paige.

A/N: I apologize if this is shit, this is just funny for me.

#pazzi #pazzi fic #pazzi fics #love island usa #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kate martin #nika muhl #can u tell im obsessed with love island lol #pretend it makes sense please

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sporesgalaxy · 4 months ago

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LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

#adddna #cookie cliquer #oc tag #cookie clicker

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roosterforme · 8 months ago

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Always Ever Only You Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Without you at home, Bradley's big mouth is about to get him in trouble. As he counts down the hours until he can pick you up from the airport, you wrap up your trip to Maryland with a visit to your childhood home. However, you're not as smooth as you think you are. By the time you get back to San Diego, you are an absolute train wreck, and some secrets have been revealed.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

On Thursday morning, Bradley got to work a little bit early. He just needed to make a tiny detour to one of the database computers. He really wasn't sure if you realized that you told him Commander Patterson's first name last night, or if you let it slip by accident, but now that he knew it, he just wanted to check him out.

Every trip you took to Annapolis turned into some sort of disaster at one point or another. He couldn't imagine you were out there looking for trouble, but it sure did find you in the form of Derek or Josh. You were the most capable person Bradley knew, but he loved and respected you enough to know that sometimes you needed a break. Right now, he just wanted to bring you back home and take care of every tiny need or want that you or the baby might have. He'd honestly fucking delight in that.

As soon as he logged into the system, Bradley typed in your full name, complete with Bradshaw hyphenated at the end. A second later, your image appeared on the screen complete with lovely smile and gorgeous eyes. "That's my Baby Girl," he muttered, still captivated by this photo of you.

He forced his fingers back to the keyboard, but no results appeared when he looked for Derrick Patterson. He tried Paterson. Then he tried Derick. Then he tried Derek Patterson and saw the face of the asshole who made his wife cry over a steak dinner. Were you more emotional right now than perhaps you would usually be? Absolutely. But that was only because you were pregnant. As soon as you told him you had a positive pregnancy test, Bradley's number one concern in this world simply switched from his wife to his wife and his child.

This guy looked like a real tool. Forty-four years old. Ranked up to Commander two years ago. Worked in a simulation lab. Had the same degrees from the Naval Academy that you earned. "Yeah, well I can guarantee you're not as smart as her, you motherfucker."

He took another minute to memorize what he saw there before logging out. Maybe he'd ask Maverick about him. Cyclone and Warlock would be good resources, too. Bradley just hated that he wasn't able to make you feel safe and comfortable at the moment, but as soon as he picked you up tomorrow, he'd take care of everything.

When he started to head out to the tarmac, he literally ran into someone while he was adding steaks to the grocery list he saved in his phone. He didn't know how to cook a steak, but he'd get them just in case you were still in the mood for one. "Sorry," he muttered, not really looking up, too concerned with what else you might want.

"It's okay, Bradley."

Then he did look up into the dark eyes of Maria Wilson. "Hey," he said with a smile at your good friend. "I've been meaning to ask you... how's rooming with Bob going for you?"

"Great," she replied with a little shrug and a completely neutral expression. "He's clean and courteous, and I think the arrangement is going to work out really well."

If he didn't know better, Bradley would have believed nothing was going on. She was that good. But he did know better. He wasn't going to do Bob dirty, so he just nodded and said, "I hope it does work out. I've always felt a little bad about stealing my wife away from you."

She just laughed and said, "Like we didn't all see that coming a mile away."

He wandered off with a grin on his face after he said goodbye. He was planning on making a few stops on the way home before Jake showed up to workout together later. Bradley just had to get through one more night and then you'd be back.

----------------------------

You were an idiot for eating two steaks and seventeen pounds of sides and then passing out for the night. Sure, at the time, it seemed like the best idea you'd ever had. Derek's porterhouse hit the fucking spot like nothing else. The potatoes were creamy and delectable. The brussels sprouts? A thing of beauty.

But Thursday morning, you were back to your normal routine of throwing up as soon as you got out of bed. "I get it, okay?" you gasped as you sprawled out on the bathroom floor. "I understand," you added, letting your hand settle on your belly. "You miss your Dad. Well guess what. I miss him, too. Now will you stop acting out if I promise to take you home tomorrow?"

A soft gurgle as your stomach started to settle was the response you got, and that was actually better than you could have hoped for. When you heard tapping on your hotel room door, you knew it was Cat, and you wanted to cry. You were wearing Bradley's UVA shirt and a pair of your ratty underwear and nothing else, and she'd just keep knocking until you answered.

"I'm coming," you moaned, actually crawling most of the way there. You pulled yourself up and then cracked the door open a few inches, and you were met with Cat's appraising eyes. "Hi."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to get breakfast with me," she said cautiously.

"No, I'm good, but thanks for asking." You tried to close the door, but her foot was immediately preventing that.

"Are you sick?" she asked. "I can bring something back for you."

"No, I'm okay," you told her. Your stomach lurched, and your eyes went wide. You had about ten seconds to get rid of her and make it to the toilet. You didn't know what to do as saliva pooled at the back of your tongue. You started to gag as your eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," she said softly. "If something's wrong, you can tell me."

But you shook your head and let go of the door, making a mad dash back into the bathroom. You barely made it to your knees in front of the toilet before you barfed again. "Why?" you moaned, wiping your mouth with toilet paper before rolling onto the bath mat which had become your best friend.

"Oh my god," Cat muttered as she walked right into your hotel room bathroom. She flushed the toilet and then turned to the sink and started to fill one of the disposable cups with water. "You're pregnant," she stated plainly. "You could have told me, you know. Congratulations, by the way."

As she knelt on the floor next to you, she helped you sit up. You accepted the cup from her and said, "It's just food poisoning." She blinked at you a few times, giving you no wiggle room to lie to her. "Fine," you admitted with a little smile, "I'm pregnant."

She ran the backs of her fingers along your forehead while you sipped the water. "How far along are you?"

"About nine or ten weeks," you whispered as you closed your eyes for a few beats. "I'm just really tired and really fucking sick. I felt good last night, but now I feel terrible again."

Cat took the empty cup from your hand and wrapped you up in a soft hug. "Thank you for holding it together for the presentation. Now you need to get back into bed."

You shook your head and said, "I need to get up and moving so I can go see my parents later."

"No," she said firmly, guiding you back to the bed. "You need to rest right now. You'll feel better if you do."

Part of you wanted to make sure your suitcase was closed so she didn't see your vibrators, but mostly you didn't even care. She had a certain way about her that was calming you down, and as soon as you were in the bed, she tucked you in. You almost believed her when she told you that resting would help you feel better.

"Where's your room key?" she asked once you were curled up on your side.

You let one hand sneak out from under the covers and pointed. "Next to the TV."

She patted your shoulder and promised she would be back soon, and then she was gone. You dozed on and off while your stomach gurgled, and you missed a few texts from Bradley. When Cat eventually opened your door and let herself in, you were actually feeling hungry. And that's when you noticed two bags and a cup carrier in her hands.

Quietly, she set everything down on your nightstand including some orange juice that almost brought a tear to your eye. Somehow she knew that was what you needed when you didn't even know yourself. You sat up as she poked a hole in the lid and handed it to you, and you drank half of it down in one sip.

"You need to eat something," she whispered, taking the cup away again. "I got you a bagel with cream cheese, an egg sandwich, a few different kinds of donuts and a muffin."

You reached for the bagel, and she unwrapped it for you. "I'll pay you back," you rasped, but she shook her head.

"Don't worry about it. Just make the baby happy, and we're square," she replied as she sank down into the chair beside the bed.

But you were definitely going to worry about it. Money was very tight for Cat and Jeremiah, so you would have to figure out a way to make it even. She probably spent about forty bucks on all of this for you, and somehow she knew that a sesame seed bagel with cream cheese would go down as happily as the steaks did. You devoured the whole thing and then took some bites out of the egg and cheese sandwich before finishing the orange juice.

Then you drank some of the hot tea as well and nibbled on a muffin, and you felt so much better. Cat asked you a few questions, but she didn't pry. "Bradley must be over the moon," she said softly with a sad smile.

"Oh yeah," you told her, knowing that her ex-husband did not have a relationship with Jeremiah. "He dubbed the baby the chicken nugget." When she laughed, you added, "He's very excited to be a dad."

"He'll be a good one," she confirmed with a nod. "Now why don't you rest for a few more hours, and then I can drop you off at your parents' house so you don't have to drive."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'll drop you off and then go to the outlet mall. There are some things I want to get for Jer, and then I can pick you up again." She probably knew it wasn't a good idea to let you drive like this, and you were honestly kind of thankful that she offered.

"Alright." You fell asleep again as soon as she was gone.

--------------------------

When Bradley left work, it was blazing hot out, and he had his aviators on while he walked to the parking garage. It was already late as hell in Maryland, and he was a little afraid you had already left your parents and gone back to the hotel for the night. But your phone only rang briefly before you answered his FaceTime call.

"Bradley," you sighed, looking better than he'd seen you in weeks. "Here, say hi to everyone."

You turned your phone to reveal both of your parents along with Cat, sitting around the dining room table in the house where he was finally getting used to spending his holidays. They all greeted him warmly before your mom took the phone and asked him at least a dozen questions.

"Are you eating enough without her at home? How's work? How's Tramp? When can we come visit again, because she's not giving us a clear answer?"

She said nothing about the baby, so Bradley assumed you were holding yourself together well enough that it hadn't been mentioned. "I've been subsiding on cereal. Work is great. Tramp is great. I've been thinking about starting a project to expand the upstairs into another bedroom or two, so hopefully after that's finished, you and dad can stay as long as you want."

Bradley knew they would feel like a handful for him if they stayed at the house again, but that was only because he liked being alone with you. He really wanted to take a minute to talk to you privately, but your dad took the phone next so he could show off his latest painting project. When he finally got handed back to you, apparently it was time for you and Cat to head out.

"I'll let you know when the flight leaves tomorrow," you told him. "Love you, Roo."

And that was it. With a deep sigh, he started up the red Bronco and headed to the store on his way home. He hated shopping in his uniform; he always got a bunch of looks from people, mostly women. He tried to make it quick, but it took him a little time to gather up steaks, potatoes, garlic, your favorite coffee, and all of the yellow flowers in the floral section.

He barely had all of the food put away at home when Jake knocked twice on the front door before letting himself in the house. "It's like he fucking lives here," Bradley muttered to Tramp who had been waiting for his scoop of dinner before he ran to see Jeremiah.

"Hey, man," Jake called out. He had Cat's son tucked under one arm and some weird contraption under the other, and he was wearing gym clothes. "Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, unable to keep himself from smiling when Jeremiah reached out for him. He took the little boy in his arms and told him, "I had to get some stuff for my wife. You remember her. She's your favorite babysitter. She read you some books while you fell asleep, because her voice is the sweetest thing in the world."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Angel made you soft, old man."

Bradley pointed to Jeremiah. "And this little thing made you soft, so you don't have a leg to stand on."

He just kind of shrugged in response and took the child back as he said, "Go get changed. I'll meet you in the garage."

As Jake disappeared through the sliding glass door, Bradley headed to the bedroom. He stripped out of his uniform and put on some shorts and a Top Gun shirt that was starting to fit a little snug across his biceps and chest again. This was a good sign, because he wanted to bulk up as much as possible. He'd be ready to haul the baby and all of the gear around so you didn't have to.

His thoughts were on you and the baby. You. Baby. You. Baby. He couldn't wait until both of you were home tomorrow. When he walked out to the garage, he found Jake doing a few pushups while Jeremiah played with a stuffed tiger while he sat in some sort of portable crib.

"What is that thing?" Bradley asked as he reached for his lifting gloves. "A mini crib?"

Jake jumped to his feet as he said, "It's called a pack 'n play, but yeah, it's kind of a mini crib that folds up."

"Huh," he replied, eyeing it up so he could search online for that kind of thing later. "Looks handy. We're definitely going to need one of those."

Jake was frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. "Is Angel pregnant? I knew her ass looked bigger." A grin curled along his lips, and that was when Bradley realized he had fucked up.

"Oh, shit," he muttered as his heart rate sped up and he started to sweat. You were going to be so upset. Your own parents didn't even know yet, but now Jake did, and it was all his fault.

"She's pregnant!" Jake practically shouted. "Congratulations, Rooster," he said, pulling Bradley into a hug and slapping him on the back. "You finally figured out which hole to put it in, huh?" he asked with an absolutely obnoxious grin.

Bradley glared at him. "Seriously. Nobody else knows about this yet. She might murder me if she finds out you know."

"I won't say shit about it," Jake promised, cuffing him on the shoulder before releasing him. "Damn, she must be excited. I know you both wanted this."

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, just knowing his face must be flushed pink. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm so fucking happy and scared and nervous, I can barely make it through a day without her here, you know?"

Jeremiah roared and held up the tiger for Bradley. He took it and made it roar back before pretending it was kissing Jeremiah all over his face. His laugh was infectious, and it left Bradley smiling.

"Damn," Jake drawled. "I think you're ready for the parenting thing."

"I know I am," he replied, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm ready."

Jake sighed and nodded. "But you still have a lot to learn. Do you know about outlet covers?"

Bradley's eyes went wide. "No. What are those?"

"How about white noise to help a baby sleep? Do you know what a convertible car seat is?"

"No," Bradley whispered, "No, I don't."

Jake settled back onto the bench and reached for the barbell. "Spot for me, and I'll tell you everything I've learned."

------------------------

It was finally Friday morning, and Cat was knocking on your door with another round of food and orange juice before you were even out of bed. When you let her in, she set everything up on the nightstand while you went to use the bathroom, and you were pleasantly surprised that you didn't need to throw up while you were in there.

"Eat as much as you can," she told you. "I asked them to give you a late checkout, so you can stay here until noon, and then we'll head to the airport."

"You're a saint," you told her with a mouth full of bagel. "I owe you so much money for this, you have to let me pay you back."

She just shook her head. "I'll let you babysit Jer so Jake and I can go out one night. Assuming I'm still in a relationship after we get bad to San Diego later tonight."

"You will be," you told her as you sipped the orange juice. "Jake isn't stupid." You paused before you set the juice down in favor of a donut. "Well... he's kind of stupid, but not when it comes to this."

Cat reached into the bag for another donut. "Seriously, if he and Bernie can't figure their shit out, I'll pull the plug and never look at another man again."

"Sometimes they really aren't worth the aggravation," you remarked, thinking back to every guy you dated before Bradley. "But sometimes they surprise you."

She didn't say anything else as she finished her donut. Then she let you take a nap, and when you got up and got dressed, you felt pretty amazing. Your stomach was gurgling quietly, and you looked okay enough to skip the makeup today.

You dragged your suitcase out into the hallway and texted Bradley, letting him know you were going to be heading to the airport soon, and he responded almost immediately.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i'll meet you in baggage claim sweetheart. i can't wait to have you and the nugget back home with me

You practically moaned, and also started tearing up as Cat met you in the hallway. "When willI I be normal again?" you whispered. "All I want to do is have rough, frequent sex with my husband, but every time I think about how sweet he is, I start crying."

She laughed and said, "You won't feel normal until about six months postpartum. Just have fun running that man ragged."

You nodded and wiped at your tears. "Where's our equipment bin?"

"Already in the car."

"You weren't supposed to move it alone! It's so heavy."

"And you shouldn't be carrying anything like that at all," she scolded, pushing you gently toward the elevators. "I took care of it. I'll take care of it all day, and I'll get your suitcase when we get to the airport, too."

You sobbed the whole way down in the elevator and most of the ride to the airport. When you said thank you, Cat told you to be quiet which made you smile and also cry more. You'd get Bradley to agree to watch Jeremiah for a whole weekend. It would give the two of you some practice, and it would give Cat and Jake time alone. There was no way he was going to mess anything up.

--------------------------

Bradley parked the red Bronco at the airport with a vase of flowers in the cup holder and an ultrasound picture tucked into the visor. Your flight had been delayed a few times, and he figured you were probably starving now. He picked up the container of peanut butter crackers he prepared and started to head inside, still a little too early but with nothing better to do.

He found an empty bench, and it wasn't long before Jake came strolling in with Jeremiah in his arms. Bradley stood up, jostling the snack container as he muttered, "You're not going to say anything to her, right?"

"Relax," Jake replied as Jeremiah reached for the crackers. "I won't say a word about her being pregnant. You can count on me."

That actually made him feel a lot more nervous as he opened up the container, broke a cracker in half and handed it to Jeremiah. "Okay. Just pretend you don't know a thing about it."

He watched Jeremiah get crumbs all over Jake's shirt as Jake checked his phone. "Sure. Hey, they landed. Cat said they're walking off the plane now."

Bradley checked his phone, but there was absolutely nothing from you, which was really strange. "Huh." He stood there awkwardly as he'd been left out of the loop, handing the other half of the cracker to Jeremiah when he reached for it.

He watched Jake typing one handed, and then he said, "Apparently there was a ton of turbulence. Angel got pretty sick." When he met Bradley's eyes, he kind of shrugged. "Sounds like she's in bad shape."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair until it was sticking up at an odd angle. "What's that supposed to mean? How is she in bad shape?" He looked over toward the partition that blocked off the area he wouldn't be able to get past without a boarding pass while he started to panic. Was he going to have to take you to the hospital or something? The cereal and potato chips he had for dinner started to sour in his stomach as he started walking in that direction.

Then he saw you, and he started running. Cat had her arm around you, and she was carrying your tote bag along with her backpack while you sipped a can of ginger ale through a straw. Bradley could see fresh tears in your eyes as they met his. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"Roo," you croaked, and he closed the rest of the distance to you and carefully took you in his arms. "I was horrible."

Cat took the ginger ale from your hand, and you collapsed against him, a sobbing, shaking mess. "It's okay," he promised you. "You're home now, and I will take care of everything."

You nodded against his chest, and he let you cry. "I threw up so much. I was fine, but then it was really rough, and the baby hates me anyway." You cried harder, and then Jake was there with Jeremiah. He took the container of crackers so Bradley could rub your back with both hands. You hiccupped against him and mumbled, "You can say what you want. Cat knows. She guessed it. Then she took care of me."

Bradley wasn't surprised in the least that someone who had been pregnant before was able to tell that you were now. "Okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. He held you close and gave both Cat and Jake a stern look. "Do you want to go ahead and tell Jake?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah," you groaned, leaning toward Jake slightly. "I'm pregnant."

If Jake didn't get Bradley out of this debacle safely, he was going to ban him from the home gym. But he should have known that above anything else in this scenario, Jake was going to have your back.

"Aww, Angel," he crooned as Jeremiah climbed into Cat's arms. "I'm so happy for you, mama." Then he kissed your cheek and winked at Bradley. "You'll be a natural, and ol' Rooster here's gonna be a class act. Now why don't you let him take you home? I can get the bin of your work stuff."

"You sure?" Bradley asked, giving Jake a discreet fist bump as you buried your face against his chest again. You were half burrowed inside his tropical print shirt at this point, and his undershirt was damp; he just wanted to get you home.

"We'll take care of it," Cat promised. "She's dehydrated. Make sure she drinks water or gatorade. And she needs to try to eat something." Jake handed the crackers back to Bradley. "Yeah, those might work, but she really needs to keep drinking."

"Got it," Bradley replied, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, Cat."

"It was my pleasure," she said with a smile as she cuddled Jeremiah.

"Let's go, Baby Girl," Bradley whispered, leading you to get your suitcase as you sipped the ginger ale and nibbled on a cracker. He kept his hand at the small of your back as you sucked in deep breath after deep breath. "I'll get you home and into bed as quickly as possible."

You sniffed and looked up at him. "I just want you with me. That's all I wanted all week."

Your lips quivered, and Bradley leaned in to kiss you as softly as he could. "That's all I wanted, too. I'm not going to leave your side." He kept you right there with him as he scooped up your luggage, and then he had his arm around you until he got you to the Bronco. With a kiss to your perfect cheek, he opened the door, helped you in, and buckled your seatbelt.

"Thanks, Roo," you sighed, eyes closed as you leaned back against the headrest, already looking more serene now that you and he were together.

"I would do anything for you." He stroked your belly with his fingertips. "Both of you."

Five minutes into the drive home, you were sound asleep, your fingers laced with his.

------------------------

I can already feel how much calmer she is just knowing she doesn't have as much to worry about with Bradley by her side. And he's going to be so much less stressed with her at home. It's looking like next chapter could be the last one in this series!!!! I'm hoping to do some one-shots for them and then pick up with another series? Please let me know what you'd like to see during and after her pregnancy. And thank you for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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mapileonxputellas · 1 year ago

Text

Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

727 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 31

Could Never Stop

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7853

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: The Emperor of the Sea sets sail from Karai Bari Island. Can he make it to the banquet in two days? More importantly, can Shanks regain his confidence, and do what needs to be done to save the woman that both of his lovers love?

Let the games begin! 🏹

Author's Note: Thank you for the wait! This month has been extra, but I also spent a ton of time and research writing this one since the game is getting started. I hope you enjoy it! I have soo many plans 🥰😈

There's a yucky Uncle Cedrick scene, but from now on we'll just have to expect that. I will continue to bracket sections if heavier situations come up, but at this point, I hope that Uncle Cuntdick will be his own warning 😬 We are meeting Dr. Vorsan this chapter, and I've bracketed the scene with these symbols ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ so as not to jump scare everyone!

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to the end of the Wano arc, and potentially current arc minor details.

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, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Uncle Cedrick might just be his own warning, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

“Go away, old man,” groaned a frighteningly hungover pirate captain, who was still face down on the floor of his quarters. Sheets with too many smells had already been stripped from his bed, but the night had held too much liquor for him to replace them on his own, so he’d slept on the rug.

“I’d love to,” Benn snorted, rolling Shanks onto his back. “Is my captain done drownin’ his sorrows?”

“Dunno what you mean.”

He cringed while he pushed himself up to lean against the wall, and couldn’t meet his first mate’s eyes.

“You’re too kind hearted for this, captain,” the older man sighed. “Why don’t you find a sweet, little barmaid to dote on like a respectable pirate, eh? What about–”

“I don’t want bunnies. I want…” Shanks growled, but his anger fizzled out at the thought of predators and prey.

“Nah. The Great, Red Haired Shanks just wants ungrateful brats that leave him crying on the floor a few times a year.”

The Great, Red Haired Shanks pulled himself to his feet, only to stumble over to an uncorked bottle in the corner, taking a grateful swig when he found it full.

“Just had too much fun is all,” he laughed, the bitter taste drowning out the sweetness of the wine.

“Well, next time that creepy asshole gives my captain too much fun, I’m gonna make sure it’s him that’s crying, ya hear me?”

“Sure, old man,” Shanks snorted, letting his first mate guide him to the shower, still downing that wine to fight off images of wicked, beautiful eyes. He wondered how long it would take this time for the cruel hint of gold to leave his mind.

The Great, Red Haired Shanks didn’t need bunnies or hawks. He just needed the sea, his crew, and another fucking bottle.

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“It’s been some time since our last session. How have you been feeling, Y/N?”

Dr. Vorsan’s pale eyes always felt sticky. Puddles of too much glue, waiting to capture anything you let slip from your shaky fingers, your trembling lips.

Breathe.

“I’m feeling well, Doctor,” you lied, keeping your voice soft. “I’m sure you've heard about my recent behavior… I believe the experience has offered me some much needed clarity.”

Everything about this man was pale and watery, and you reminded yourself not to frown at his beige suit. It would have seemed like the doctor wanted to fade into the background, if every boring detail about him hadn’t been so exquisitely tailored.

“That’s good to hear,” he praised, though the emptiness in his voice had you fighting to stay present. “Why don’t you tell me about it. You’re going through a lot of transitions, Y/N. Major life changes, even positive ones, can cause a lot of strain. Have you been feeling strained, Y/N?”

“Mmssorry,” you slurred, fighting your lips that had already frozen, not even five minutes in.

“You stated that your time with the Cross Guild brought you clarity,” Dr. Vorsan noted. Those sticky eyes seemed to warm while your body left your control, until you couldn’t meet them anymore, couldn’t look higher than his elbows. “By putting yourself in such a dangerous–”

“I wasn’t–”

You were heavy and loose now, your whispered denial draining the last of your energy.

“You’re in a safe place, Y/N,” he promised while he pulled a shiny, gold pen from his jacket, propping up a notepad on his knee. “Do you know where you are?”

He asked again, voice so soft, until you nodded in agreement.

“Good, Y/N. Just take some deep breaths, and we can stop whenever you need to. We’ll help you get clarity, so you can stay well. Do you want to stay well, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, Doctor.”

“Wonderful,” he purred, scratching a note onto the top of his page, the movement of his manicured hands holding your gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about the clown?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

“With Sylvad’s cowardly level of security, I believe this would be too risky to use, but you should take it, in case the opportunity arises.”

“It’s so small,” Shanks hummed, inspecting Mihawk’s earpiece transponder snail, its tiny eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Maybe if I–”

“Save it,” Crocodile ordered, pushing away his untouched meal before closing the ornate shell container in Shanks’ palm, shutting those little eyes away. “Right now, the safest way to save our girl is for you to marry her. Don’t put that at risk by acting suspicious.”

Shanks stared at the closed shell before tucking it away, looking up to find his old friend winking at him.

“Don’t fret, love. We can have a belated bachelor party when you return,” Mihawk teased, combing his fingers through that bright, red hair.

“But Buggy—”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Crocodile sighed, standing to usher the other man out of the suite, “but it’s our best chance. That’s your mission. We’ll be listening, we have the location, and we can reach out to your crew if we need to share something vital. Can you do this?”

The two men stared each other down again, the swordsman’s hand dropping away to give them space.

“I’ll bring her back,” Shanks swore again, offering Crocodile his hand. The larger man shook it, but the press of time killed their peaceful moment.

The Emperor made his way into Adam’s room, waiting for Buggy’s permission to speak, but his clown looked pained, and Shanks couldn’t wait.

“What’s wrong, Bugs?”

Buggy’s hands were cramping from recording the pros and cons of the men that might marry his star. His throat was tired from swallowing nasty fears and guilt at the thought of Y/N actually finding someone she wanted to be with.

“You’re leaving,” he whispered, letting out a sigh when Shanks nodded. Strong fingers were so gentle as they brushed hair behind his ear, pens not doing enough to hold up all of that blue.

“I’m gonna fix this, Bugs.”

“She doesn’t believe…”

Though jealousy had turned him into someone he didn’t recognize, now when he saw that look of love in Buggy’s eyes for Y/N, Shanks wanted to burn all the oceans to bring them back together.

“She loves me, but she thinks it’s over, Shanks. My star’s really looking for someone else.”

“That’s not gon–”

“Make sure it’s you, alright, shithead?”

Buggy pressed his last piece of hope into Shanks’ palm, before letting himself hold and be held by this beautiful man that had been so many things to him over the years. He sank to the floor, allowing soothing kisses to be left along his unraveling hair while slow, exhausted tears escaped him.

Shanks opened his mouth to comfort, to promise, to share, but Buggy reached for the notepad again, mumbling about her “favorites.” After a rushed, bittersweet kiss, the red headed pirate was on his way, met by his golden eyed lover in the hall.

“Making sure I don’t run off with all your booze,” he tried to smile, feeling the weight of distance already crashing over him.

“Something like that,” Mihawk teased. “I thought I’d send you off.”

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“How was your session with Dr. Vorsan,” Uncle Cedrick taunted, filling the dining room with ice.

“It went well.”

You’d managed to bring yourself back, to find your body and voice again before dinner, knowing that he’d be waiting to poke at you.

“Excellent,” he purred, killing your appetite again. “He’ll be staying until the wedding, just in case you need the extra support.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you hummed, forcing down a bite.

“So polite,” he laughed, touching your moms chin to lift her face up. “See, Delaine. A little time with the doc, and your daughter’s already feeling better. Maybe she’ll even stop asking her mama bird to chew up her food soon.”

“She can stop after the wedding,” you said coldly, not enjoying the cruel laugh he gave at her expense.

“Such a high maintenance bride,” he taunted, towering over you all when he stood from his seat, offering you his arm. “Come on, smarty. Let’s take a walk.”

Kat started to argue for you, but it was a pointless battle, so you left the other Sylvad ladies at the table, letting Uncle Cedrick guide you out to the lavish courtyard.

“I know you’ve been reviewing the details with Kat, instead of your mother, but I expect you to be prepared tomorrow. You know the rules of the game?”

“The suitors have a month to win me,” you recited while he led you through the tables, dragging you to the beautiful, carved bench where the introductions would be held. “They’re not allowed to fight amongst themselves unless it’s for the game, and they have to leave grudges aside until after someone wins my heart. They’ll all have time with me as a group and in private, and they can woo me however they like, so long as it doesn’t endanger me, or take me off the island.”

The pride in his smile wasn’t for you, but he beamed it at you, nonetheless.

“Since you’ve been doing so well, I’m sure you can remember a few more rules. Think you can handle that, smarty?”

“Yes, Uncle,” you agreed, sending your rage down into the stone beneath you.

“You need to remember that choice is a fucking luxury, Y/N,” he threatened, brushing the hair back from your face while he leaned too close, his cologne filling your lungs. “After the fiasco you could have caused, and after all these years of abusing my patience, you’re lucky I’m letting you play this little game at all.”

His hateful words were drawn out with lazy pleasure, and he kept his fingers in your hair, stroking you like a pet. Like his pretty doll.

“You’re going to give all of your suitors a fair chance. They’re here to enjoy themselves, so I won’t have you chasing anyone off too soon. You’re going to whittle them down slowly, and carefully, and with my approval. Your final two suitors will be offered a deal, and if they don’t accept it, they won’t get my blessing.”

“So…”

“So, do whatever you need to do to convince the men you like the most to take that deal.”

Nodding so you wouldn’t spit, you seethed when he tugged at your chin the way he’d touched your mother’s earlier. Your eyes were forced to his, and the stars above seemed to burn like acid as your face tilted up toward them.

“I’ll do anything to protect this family,” Uncle Cedrick vowed as he rubbed his thumb across your snarling lips. “If there’s a man that can offer a better deal, then he’ll get my blessing, no matter your preference. So get ready to use this smart, little mouth of yours, niece. I wonder if you’re a good enough whore to convince anyone to stay? Though I have to confess, after all of your tantrums, I think my spoiled brat of a niece might deserve a man that can put her in her place.”

He laughed at your stifled hatred, wiggling your face before releasing you.

“Give them all a chance to win you,” Uncle ordered, satisfaction dripping from his parted lips.

He enjoyed watching you suffer. Enjoyed it in a way that made your skin crawl, but you could never fully hide your rage from him, no matter how skilled you became. He could fucking sniff it out.

“If I catch you sabotaging any suitor’s feelings for you before I’ve given the approval to drop them, then I’ll make sure you get some extra special time together. It’s only fair.”

All of the acceptance you’d been building up was crashing down around you, and you held in your tears, not wanting to see the pleasure on his face if he tore them from you.

You wanted to run away.

He found me. He could have had Karai Bari wiped off the fucking map, and Buggy…

“Well, niece, do you understand? Or do I need to—“

“I’ll fuck the one’s I like to make them take your deal,” you growled, almost losing your vision from the rage that was coursing through you. “And I’ll fuck the one’s I hate so you won’t know which piece of shit to trap me with.”

Cedrick Sylvad threw his head back, bellowing his cruel laughter up to the twinkling sky.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he wheezed, before leaving you there with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t stay up too late, niece.”

He didn’t leave you with a guard. There was no need.

I’ll never get away. These are my choices. Pros and cons.

The silent courtyard felt like a cemetery while you struggled to move, to head off to bed, and end this shitty night. Your fingers found their way to your locket, the touch of warm metal helping to calm your breathing while you stared at all the cold, shining stars above you.

“At least I have all those pretty daydreams,” you whispered, feeling like an empty doll as you floated off to bed.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

“Hawk Eyes.”

It had been a couple of years since Mihawk had stepped foot onto the Red Force, but his body had memorized every step toward the captain’s quarters, and they walked there without a thought.

Until a tall, scowling man blocked his path.

“Good afternoon, Benn. How—“

“How about you get the fuck—“

“Hey now,” Shanks laughed, stepping between his first mate and the swordsman, who’d raised a brow at the threatening tone. “We’re good, Benn! He’s just seeing us off.”

“Well, I’ll see him off a fucking cliff if he makes you—”

Shanks cut him off, pulling Mihawk into his quarters while Benn narrowed his eyes, his arms flexing as he crossed them over his chest.

“If I make him…” Mihawk asked, focusing on the hint of pink that was blossoming on Shanks’ cheeks.

Cute.

“Benn, get the crew ready. We’re heading out soon.”

“Aye, captain,” he agreed, still leaning toward the swordsman through the doorway. Benn jerked his head to the side as unruly strands of long, gray hair escaped his tie, getting in the way of his glare. “If you ever make my captain cry again, I’m gonna turn those pretty, gold eyeballs into pretty, gold earrings, ya hear me?”

“Thanks, Benn,” Shanks shoved the man out, locking himself into his quarters with his wicked, old friend whose mouth was hanging wide open. He might have laughed at the sight if he hadn’t wanted to crawl under the floorboards.

Fuck you, Benn…

“Cry?”

Shanks had watched those lips move. He’d heard that voice speak.

Yet his mind couldn’t connect that trembling word to the deadly rival before him.

The sweetness that had echoed through Mihawk’s bones with every step beside his lover had curdled again, guilt and shame scraping up his throat, strangling the words he’d hoped to share.

I don’t deserve it.

“You’re shaking,” the red haired pirate breathed as he reached for one of those dangerous hands. Everything was unsteady. Nothing in this world fit anymore, but Shanks tried to laugh it off. “Is Dracule Mihawk feeling jealous? I never had you pegged for the marriage type.”

“No,” he choked a laugh, brittle and stinging as he sat on the bed. The same, old bed they’d shared countless times. “I’m so sorry, Shanks.”

Those words again.

This “vacation” of his had felt like the most outrageous, delicious dream held hostage by a nightmare, and Shanks felt a sudden terror that he was about to wake up to find it was all gone.

In case it was about to disappear, Shanks sat beside his vicious, old friend, and pressed a kiss to the man’s temple. Mihawk wrapped his arms around him, clinging, feeding into the unreality of this soft, lovely dream.

“Are you alright, Hawk,” Shanks breathed.

Instincts would have sent the swordsman out the door by now. Every thought pushed him out, guilt, and fear, and lies, no longer strong enough to outweigh the need to keep holding Shanks against him, to keep inhaling his comforting scent.

The need to run was fueled by his new piles of shame. An unconscious demand to leave. Leave. Leave.

“I’m done…”

“What’s that,” Shanks tensed at the whisper. He fought his rising dread, tracing his fingers through that pretty, black hair. As they always had, Mihawk’s hypnotic eyes made his world pause, yet in this moment they seemed like true magic. The swordsman had once been blank, unknowable, giving no depth, though Shanks had reached and delved as far as his old rival would let him.

Now those golden eyes were hypnotizing not for their blankness, but for the swirling depths that pulled him in. Pools of molten metal, pain, and need, and other things Shanks couldn’t think clearly enough to try to understand.

Mihawk couldn’t understand how this beautiful, glorious man could still stand to look at him, let alone offer him comfort. He almost talked himself out of the room again, but vowed that he was done being a coward. He would fight. He would never run.

Never again.

“I know I…” Mihawk started, losing his train of thought while he stared at his old friend that could have been something so much more.

What’s the point of being safe if I can’t even…

“Hawk?”

“I love you. I know it’s too late. I’m sorry, I–mmn!”

All that dread exploded, leaving Shanks absolutely fucking high. None of this could be real, but what a dream.

“Took you long enough, old friend,” he purred. Mihawk whimpered beneath him, shaking under his touch after Shanks had pushed him onto his back, kissing him as though he’d disappear if he stopped.

“I’m s-sorry, Sha–”

“Are you lying? Manipulating me?”

He gripped Mihawk’s face, wanting to throw this fear off the ship. Gods, he wanted to believe it, to feel it.

Mihawk let out a breath, a weak sob, as the gold of his eyes was dressed with diamonds. The monster was even more hypnotizing when he cried.

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. Memories flooded the swordsman now, filling the air around him with regret, and with the hope he was fighting to keep. He reached up, cupping Shanks’ face while he blinked away his salty fear. “You loved a coward, old friend, but I’m done running. I love you. I’m so sor–”

Shanks couldn’t tell if he was laughing, or crying as he fell onto the wicked, intoxicating man beneath him.

“I love you too, Hawk. I still love you. Could never stop.”

“Shanks…”

“Say it again,” Shanks breathed while he kissed along Mihawk’s throat, dizzy while one of his dearest fantasies played out before him.

“I love you, Shanks.” Mihawk shivered, clinging, reaching, falling to pieces. Shameful parts of him still screamed to run, still thought so many cruel, ungrateful things, but there was nothing like the satisfied sounds his lover made when he said those words. “I have loved you in my cowardly heart. I’m sorry I– fuck!”

The red haired pirate fisted his hair with vicious force while he rutted his clothed cock against him, chuckling as he watched those hypnotizing eyes flutter with need.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I…”

Mihawk was already lost in him, and Shanks let that sweetness pour over his body, his breath relaxing as he decided how to take care of his lover.

“You’re sorry because you didn’t say you love me, right,” he purred, kissing tingles into Mihawk’s skin as he breathed along his temple to his jaw. The swordsman gave a weak nod, and a little whine, so Shanks nibbled at his ear, telling his boy how to please him.

“I don’t wanna hear another ‘sorry,' you hear me,” he threatened, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s hip, dipping down into those low riding pants. “You’d better keep telling me what you should have back then.”

“Shanks,” Mihawk moaned, undoing the lacings of his own clothes before clawing at Shanks’, desperate beneath the sway of that crooked smile. “I love you.”

The Emperor of the Sea forgot.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to be.

Shanks just had to make this man say those words again and again. It had been so fucking long. They touched and kissed every inch of each other in their mad rush to claim every moment before the dream faded away, until the swordsman looked over his shoulder, begging so pretty. So perfect.

“I need you, daddy,” Mihawk relaxed, ready. “Need you, love you, want… mm, please…”

“I need you too, bright eyes,” Shanks hummed, fingers finding their way in, cool lube easing the stretch while he made his lover moan into the wrinkled sheets. “I need my pretty boy to let me love him. You finally gonna let me, Hawk?”

“Please,” he begged. The press of Shanks’ cock teasing at him was too much, and he writhed, shoving himself back until he cried out, earning the full force of that powerful body.

“Look at you. Knew you’d be so good for me, baby.”

His fingers caressed while he pressed that pale skin into the mattress, and Shanks let everything go, praising, taking, and hurting his lover until they both went fucking mad. Mihawk let himself feel safe in the pleasure and the pain.

Safe.

His lover made him cry, and bleed, and come, before laying his own claim. Shanks’ heavy cock filled him, on and on, leaving Mihawk twitching and whining. There they stayed, breathing, sweating, and whispering those words until they remembered.

“I’ve gotta go, Hawk... Will you still love me when I come back,” Shanks asked as reality returned, failing to hide all the true fear in his voice.

“My lover gone away to sea. I shall await thee,” Mihawk hummed, moaning when Shanks pulled away, his body still craving his touch.

“Are you writing love poems already?”

Mihawk could have stayed in that bed for days, but she was there in his mind. Still trembling from love and pleasure, fear followed him while he helped Shanks clean the evidence of their selfish lust, low chuckles still warming the air around them through it all.

“I’ll write poetry for you, my love,” he breathed, eyes fluttering at the new touches he’d earned. “But you’re right. You need to leave.”

Demands felt wrong, so the swordsman finished drying and dressing his lover, until the Emperor pulled him close, their foreheads pressed together while he tried not to succumb to his own selfish terror.

“I love you, Hawk Eyes,” Shanks let out one more time, while the memory of empty eyes burned through his soul. Y/N had helped both of his lovers, had helped him find them again, to hold them again, had helped them open up.

I owe her everything.

“I love you too, Red Hair,” Mihawk gave a true smile, shaky though it was. The voice calling for him to run was easily ignored with the gratitude and desperation rolling through him now. “Please–”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Shanks laughed, kissing those lips again before leading his deadly lover off the ship. “If I can win over Dracule Mihawk’s icy heart, then there’s no beast I can’t charm.”

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

Kat managed to pull a laugh from you while servants buzzed around, swarming like bees as you waited in the courtyard for your new life to begin.

Whenever a big tree fell on Sylvad property, it would be easy to cart it away, to sell it into little pieces, but this courtyard was built to show off one of your favorite family traditions.

The last few generations of Sylvad’s had refused to let a fallen tree be scurried away like something to be ashamed of. If a tree fell on a Sylvad estate, it was to be celebrated to honor the hard work and creativity that made your family’s name synonymous with power, wisdom, and enough wealth and status to rival nobility.

You sat on one of those dead trees, the trunk carved into a formidable, layered bench along the base of the manor, while the lantern lit courtyard stretched out toward the forest. On and on the bench seemed to go, covered with lifelike, and even life size animals trying to spring into your world from the fallen wood.

Childhood memories trampled over you for a moment, just like your little body had once tried to climb and claim this wonder of the forest. The obedient bees brought you back to the present, doing some last minute touch ups to your hair and makeup while they fluffed up your giant gown.

Asking why you were in a white dress before your wedding day had sent you into rigid silence once the rest of the ensemble was forced onto you.

Don’t bite the help. Don’t bite the help… Do deer bite people?

“I’ll be right over there all night, okay,” Kat’s voice pushed through the mass of bodies. “Make that face if you need me to step in.”

“There’ll be no need for that, ladies,” Uncle scolded, his presence scattering the hovering pests around you. He beamed at your sister while he patted her cheek, before sending her to sit with your sulking mother. Kat gave you a weak smile, leaving you on that extravagant bench while your uncle managed to sit beside you without mussing your dress.

The music may have been pretty. The lanterns lighting up beneath the golden, darkening sky might have been enchanting.

It was even possible that one of the men in that crowd of guests breaking through the treeline onto the stone pathway would make a lovely husband.

You tried to breathe, tapping nervously against the locket you’d stuffed into the corset of your dress since it hadn’t “fit the theme.”

What a feeling it was to finally know that love was real. Yet, such was your fate that you had to keep killing and burying the futile wish that you could have kept it for yourself.

All of these men are here to own me. Every single one.

“Don’t forget to smile, dear niece,” Uncle taunted, leaning close enough to warm your cheek with his words. He laughed at his little joke, while you tried to obey.

You were the white stag.

You were his helpless prey, whose sole purpose was to be hunted, mounted, and displayed. Nothing more than a tasty trophy.

The stupid, white antlers in your hair felt heavier with each moment while you watched your hunters stalk ever closer. The men had separated from their guests who were being seated so that everyone could watch your uncle’s little show, while the suitors formed a line.

“If you–”

“You already won, Uncle,” you cut him off, eyes scanning the edge of the forest while more figures appeared. “I’ll be well behaved venison from here on… what the f–”

“Smile.”

No fucking way.

Kat had followed your line of sight, and if your face matched the look on hers, you needed to shake it off now. The last thing you needed to do was offend one of these men that could squash you like a bug.

Sis was right. We should have asked for measurements.

Swallowing manic laughter at the thought, you split into pieces, becoming the hunted. The truest part of you watched the show from a deep, dark hole within while you smiled at Uncle Cedrick, although your body couldn’t hide the shivers that broke through.

“Smart girl,” he hummed, curdling your stomach before he pressed your hand into an old man’s wrinkly grip.

Your suitors had arrived.

“Giberson, lovely to see you. Let me introduce you to my niece. She’s—“

“The Cross Guild’s young CFO, if my sources aren’t mistaken? I can’t imagine there’s another Y/N Sylvad gallivanting about.” Giberson caught you off guard, and you were a deer in the headlights when his scratchy, white mustache tickled across your fingers.

His words had left you frozen, and he released your hand, seeming a little wobbly while he balanced with his jewel encrusted cane. The old man adjusted his pin striped hat, making his tall body seem even lankier in the matching suit.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Uncle Cedrick laughed, clapping the old man on the back. “You probably know more about the competition than I do. So, have you decided to join the game, or will you just be staying for the entertainment?”

This old man is one of the Emperors of the Underworld…

Giberson’s dossier had been the lightest you’d received, yet somehow that made him more frightening, along with his epithet; The Concealer.

“Hopefully I’ll have more luck at this wedding than I did at the last one I attended. Bodies just don’t recover the same when you get to be my age,” Giberson chuckled as he tapped his knee with his cane a few times. “Still, I may be old, but I can’t resist the offer to join in such a delightful game.”

“Happy hunting, good man. I’m confident that some time in Y/N’s company will put some pep back in your step,” Uncle encouraged, pulling an intricately carved arrow from a quiver at his back, adding to the vision of the dark hunter he exuded tonight. He handed it to you, giving you the illusion of choice.

You’d been told not to stand unless you absolutely had to, so you looked up at him through your lashes. Your painted doe eyes needed no help looking helpless, but you obeyed just the same. Giberson smelled of whiskey when he leaned down to accept the arrow from your grasp, a satisfied smile on those aged lips.

“Just watch out, little lady. These young boys aren’t done fighting yet,” he stepped back, nodding subtly over his shoulder. “It would be a shame to see such a precious thing get caught up in the crossfire. I’d rather like to avoid that fate myself this time around.”

“Not to worry, Giberson, we’re all here to enjoy a more civilized kind of battle. Although, the betting pools have already added a few extra categories for all the possibilities this month presents.”

The men ignored you now, but you had to keep your face mildly pleasant while you reminded yourself not to scratch it, so as not to risk fucking up the subtle deer makeup across your nose and cheeks.

Humiliating.

You were the only animal at the banquet. The only thing on the menu. Everyone else got to be human.

Well, maybe not everyone…

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Are these supposed to be this fucking tight? This can’t be right…”

Shanks tugged and pulled at the dove gray pants he’d been gifted by Sylvad’s attendants, his head snapping up at the choked sound coming from his first mate’s throat.

“What’s wrong?”

Benn had changed quickly, the banquet already getting started when the two of them had stepped foot onto the private island. The older man had lucked out, easily fitting into the borrowed suit that was such a dark blue it was almost black, although he’d rolled up the sleeves, and traded the jacket for his purple cloak. Having some breathing room around his muscular arms made him seem slightly less annoyed since their weapons had to remain on the Red Force.

Benn was too distracted to care about their weapons at the moment though, wheezing while he watched his mighty captain try to stuff all of his bits into those tiny pants.

“Did you try the other pairs?” Benn failed to hide his laughter, having to clear his throat and look away.

“They're all the same size– He can’t really expect me to wear this?”

His eyes were wide, unconsciously shaking his head while he gaped at his reflection.

The tight, gray breeches seemed designed specifically to showcase every curve of his cock and balls. The soft fabric was tucked into black, knee high boots that a certain swordsman would have coveted, but Shanks felt like he was going insane with the urge to light the borrowed clothes on fire.

“No. I’m not going out there like this,” Shanks resisted.

“You said you’d do anything for her, captain. Don’t you wanna get on the uncle’s good side?” Benn’s laughter vanished while he draped a black cloak over his Captain’s shoulders, fastening the high collar around his throat. His thick fingers trailed down over the frilly, white shirt, checking the small, black vest that was little more than a girdle, before tying off his captain's sleeve. “This bunny of yours worth the tight pants?”

“Emperor Shanks, sir,” came a soft voice beyond the door. “The banquet is underway, is there anything I can assist– Oh I– Oh…”

He forgot what he was about to ask this poor girl when he opened the door, because the look on her face gave him everything he needed.

“You doing alright, darlin,” Shanks purred, touching one of the girl’s bright, red cheeks.

Benn chuckled, pushing through the doorway, and onto the stone path, ordering his captain to hurry it up.

“Y-yes, I am, sir,” she trembled, letting out a giggle when Shanks winked, and the sweet sound brought him back.

“Good girl. Why don’t you show us where to go?”

~~~

“You always strut, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you strutting like this,” Benn smirked.

“I can’t help it! These boots have heels.”

Shanks stuck out his tongue before they passed beyond the denser trees.

“You have been invited to join the game, Emperor Shanks.” The servant bowed her head while she gestured toward the center of the decorated courtyard. “I’ll lead your guest to his table now, unless you’d rather not accept the offer?”

“Why not,” Shanks beamed at her, though the sight of his competition made him fight not to sway on those uncomfortable heels.

“Looks like you and your tiny pants might be outmatched, captain,” Benn whispered, patting him on the back before following the pretty girl to a table full of enemies.

Shanks had barely made it here in time, and felt a twinge of guilt return while the last suitors moved out of the way, but the sight of her stopped the blood in his veins.

Twilight had crept into dusk, and the dancing light of the lanterns bathed her painted skin, her white dress, and ethereal antlers, seeming to glow from within. Y/N shone like a wounded star, bleeding out her light for all of these monsters to drink.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor,” Cedrick purred, making his niece flinch. She hid herself away before Shanks could decipher what he’d seen behind her mesmerizing eyes.

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” he charmed, stalking closer and closer until he caught her cold hand in his. “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?”

She stared while he pressed his lips to her knuckles, and he took in every detail, wishing he could just grab her and run.

She’s not wearing Buggy’s locket…

Before new anxiety could set in, Shanks had to swallow his rage at the sound of that voice.

“Either would make for a good hunt. The nice Emperor asked you a question, Y/N,” Sylvad taunted, tapping her thigh with a decorative arrow.

“It’s alright, bunny.” He gave her a crooked smile while she gave him nothing, so he turned to the smirking piece of shit by her side. “From what I’ve gathered, we might get to spend some more time together soon. Do I have that right, new friend?”

“I treat my friends very well, but family is everything,” Cedrick vowed. “There'll be plenty of time to discuss details later, but if you’d like to accept the offer to join this little game, then you may get to enjoy more than just our famous Sylvad hospitality.”

Shanks bought himself some time by letting his eyes rake over her again.

I’m a villain. I’m not here to rescue her.

“How could I resist?”

“Go on,” her uncle beamed with triumph, shoving the arrow into her hand.

The woman that had captured the hearts of the only two people Shanks had ever truly loved met her Uncle’s cruel gaze before looking back up at the Emperor of the Sea. Her eyes fluttered while she offered him the arrow, keeping her hands close to her face so that he felt her breath on his fingers as pulled the symbolic weapon from her grip.

His lips parted as he became trapped in her eyes again, although that haunting pull had been replaced by a desire so hot, it rivaled the stars. Y/N's bare need felt like a gift from the heavens.

“Thank you,” he breathed, twirling the arrow in his fingers while he bowed his head at that fallen star, before winking at her captor.

“Happy hunting, Shanks.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson had finally stopped gossiping with Uncle Cedrick, so you became the prey again, smiling up at your next suitor.

Suitors.

You couldn’t help glancing toward Kat while her favorite pick stepped up alongside his brothers.

These men should have been intimidating, and they had been, for a moment.

Yet now, the three princes of the Germa Kingdom were all staring down at you like hungry puppies.

What the fuck?

“Welcome, Ichiji, Niji, Yonji. This is my niece, Y/N. It is an honor to welcome you to our humble estate.”

“The honor is ours,” one of the princes crooned, laying a kiss with almost too much pressure against your knuckles.

Ichiji. The red head is Ichiji.

Your mind rattled through everything you could recall while his green and blue haired brothers took their turns, their loose shirts and billowing capes moving prettily in the light breeze.

Somehow the word “prince” had made their blatant lust seem shocking, and you almost laughed at how fucking naive that was.

They were here to buy you, just like all the rest, and their royal hands lingered on your skin when they accepted their arrows.

~~~

“There you are, old friend!”

“Cedrick. It’s good to see you.”

“Mr. Iceburg?”

Excitement tore through you, and you almost leapt to your feet so you could hug your dad’s old friend.

Your uncle’s old friend…

Iceburg, the Mayor of Water 7, and the CEO of Galley-La.

You’d had an embarrassing crush on the man, even before he brought all of those shipbuilding companies under one name seven years ago, creating his own empire. Water 7 was your company’s most powerful, and profitable connection, so you’d spent a lot of your childhood on that watery island while your dad made deals with this handsome entrepreneur.

He’d always been kind, and funny, and had never ignored or patronized you like so many of the other business contacts dad had made you spend time with.

“Well, Y/N, don’t you look stunning,” Iceburg hummed, leaning down close to kiss your cheek. It was something he’d done many times, but your skin still flushed with heat as it always had. “I hardly recognized my little numbers girl.”

With your mouth hanging open, you felt like a child come face to face with her dream, only to find that the dream carried a bitter aftertaste.

But it still looked fucking good.

Your eyes traveled up and down his tall frame, snagging on the black, leather pants tucked into knee length boots. He had rarely buttoned his shirts all the way before, but now the loose fabric of his rust-colored tunic hung wide open, and you found yourself blinking up at the lovely frame it made around his tanned skin, and dark, blue chest hair.

“Don’t keep our dear friend waiting, Y/N,” Uncle Cedrick urged, tapping your hands with the arrow until you snapped out of your teenage fantasy.

“May I,” Iceburg asked, his eyebrow raising just a bit while he watched you nod.

He’s here to buy me. He wants to buy his friend’s daughter. Wants to…

His thumb traced over your wrist before he pulled away, the rough touch of a carpenter's hand making you shiver.

“See ya, girlie,” Iceburg winked, wrecking you for the next hopeful.

~~~

Luckily the next hopeful didn’t matter, although it felt like you’d just lost a safety net.

“I do apologize,” whined the most ‘boring’ candidate, Mr. Halvens. “I’m afraid I will have to decline. There are certain elements here that I cannot have my name associated with.”

“Not to worry,” Uncle laughed. “You’re welcome to stay for the banquet, although I'd recommend keeping your voice down if you plan to disparage my other guests again.”

The poor man went pale, and you were disgusted with your urge to laugh at his pathetic scrambling when your uncle’s laughter rolled over you first.

~~~

“Prince Fukaboshi,” you projected, staring up at the massive merman. There was a ring of what looked like a bubble around his waist, and his blue, spotted tail seemed to float just slightly above the ground.

You had prepared yourself for a merman.

Not for a fucking giant.

“I am looking forward to winning your heart, Miss Sylvad,” he charmed, although the effect was strange from almost two stories up. Fukaboshi's regal voice rushed toward you when he leaned down, and you tried to smile under that sharp face, that cloud of light, blue hair.

The arrow seemed to shrink once his fingers pulled it so carefully from yours, before he joined his guests at the edge of the courtyard. You could still feel the prince's gaze, like a cool weight over your skin.

~~~

How the fuck…

The fact that the next suitors weren’t even the tallest people you’d met tonight was insane, and you had to fight not to let panicked laughter escape while you were introduced to these two brothers.

“Thank you so much for coming. This is my niece, Y/N. I know she’s been looking forward to meeting you both, Cracker, and Katakuri.” Uncle Cedrick smiled at the frightening brothers, seeming almost giddy when he handed you their arrows.

Cracker leaned down first, and he had to be a couple of feet taller than… He also carried a fierce scar on his face, scraping across his right eye. When he grinned, his bright, pink irises seemed to eat you up, a near manic look behind them.

You couldn’t make sense of his clothes, so you tried not to look at the giant fucking crackers hanging around his belt, or at his light, purple hair that was tied into long buns that seemed to be crackling with fire.

Katakuri was even taller, almost as tall as the merman prince, but he went to a knee to get closer to you. His clothes were all leather with scratches and spikes artfully placed to look even more ready for violence. Pink tattoos kissed along his bare chest and arms, and the color went well with his crimson hair and eyes, but you couldn’t see more of his face below the fur scarf he had wrapped up to the bridge of his nose.

His eyes were intense, knowing, and the sheer size of him amplified his frightening, but lovely, features.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I hope that our families can join their strengths soon.”

The Charlotte brothers left you breathless while the courtyard buzzed with the sounds of guests enjoying their drinks as they waited for dinner to start, celebrating the thought of you being claimed by one of these lucky suitors.

~~~

Twilight had crept into dusk, and you let yourself take a breath, knowing that the line must be coming to an end. Everyone in your mom’s book was already here, plus Iceburg, and there couldn’t be too many last minute…

Shanks?

The Emperor of the Sea stood framed by the growing night, dressed like a wicked horseman on the hunt. He stared at you as though he were surprised to find you there.

As though this fucking traitor hadn’t broken his promise as soon as Uncle Cedrick had shown up. The image of Shanks leaning close, smiling, and flirting with your uncle at the Cross Guild’s party felt like molten metal through your gut. Then he’d run away. You’d seen him, that stupid, red hair slipping through the crowd, fleeing the vow he’d made to you.

Liar. Liar. LIAR!

Somehow you stayed very deep inside yourself after Uncle’s voice made you flinch, even while this filthy leech touched your hand. You couldn’t hear what he was saying while he talked to his new best friend.

You’re just another bitch for my uncle’s money, aren’t you? Disgusting trash.

You almost laughed. Almost let it out.

Uncle Cedrick tapped your thigh with the arrow, and the visceral image of shoving it into one of Shanks' poisonous, “soft,” brown eyes felt intoxicating.

Pathetic. You’re just like all the rest. The Great Red Haired Shanks is no hero. Just another piece of shit that would betray his love for some berry.

Rage and nausea battled for more space within you, until your uncle shoved the arrow into your hand, and you remembered.

I can't let Uncle see how much I hate him.

A wave of desire and power burned through you, and you let yourself feel nothing but need while you offered Shanks that weapon instead of using it against him. It felt as though you were possessed, but you welcomed the chaos of mindless lust, relishing in it when those soft eyes went dark before he finally got the fuck away from you.

Did he just fucking thank me?

Uncle started to address the crowd, and you knew you should be listening. You tried to be here, to survive.

Traitor. Liar. Leech. Trash.

Breathing felt impossible. Your corset seemed tighter now, making the hidden locket dig into your skin, reminding you that Buggy was all alone.

There had never been a chance for you to have true love in your life. Not the cursed heiress of Sylvad’s. Not with your Uncle’s plans.

Your sweet, lovely clown deserved better.

But Shanks betrayed you both. He'd abandoned Buggy after one conversation with Cedrick Sylvad, just as weak and worthless as your first two "loves."

Uncle offered you his hand, and you stood without knowing what was next, but all that came next was applause. Happy, little vultures excited for their next meal.

“Did you hear me,” he hissed at you before shrugging for the crowd. “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!”

Chase?

“Run along now, niece,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, nodding toward the trees. Night had officially fallen as he led you down that stone path, the eyes of all the hunters following your every step toward the darkened forest. “You’ve got a ten minute head start, Y/N. Better decide which arrow you'd rather be pieced with tonight.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

Author's Note: Yes, I dressed Shanks up like Jareth the Goblin King. No, I am not sorry 😅

Who do you think is going to catch our white stag? I'm having so much fun with this game! 🥰🏹 Check out the poll below, or you can just tell me what you think about our lineup! I've been going crazy over it, especially since I try to stick as close to canon possibility as I can for some weird reason, lol.

Part 32

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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historical-fashion-polls · 5 days ago

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hello lovely curator! i would love to know how you find your images? google has been abysmal for finding historical clothing these days

hi dear anon! 💕

thank you so much for this question! ☺️☺️ I'll begin my answer by saying that currently the blog is mostly running on submitted images, which come from lovely folks who have generously sent in images to be used as polls, so I won't be able to speak to those specific sources, but when I source my own images for the blog, here are some resources I use:

the Met has a great collection of digitized fashion plates! however, the search function is not great and they've grouped things into categories that aren't always accurate. so I guess the content is really good but I've found that browsing the collection isn't always super user friendly

the costumes from the 1890s that I've been posting a bit lately are all from the V&A's digitized collection of costume designs for pantomimes! the V&A is another great collection that I personally find easier to browse, although the search function still isn't great

so I guess I'll make this bullet point "museum collections in general" since there are also a bunch of other museums and library collections that have digitized fashion plate images. if you have a favorite museum or even a local one, I'd definitely recommend checking out their website to see if they might have anything!

wikimedia commons also has a pretty substantial collection of mostly 19th century fashion plates. they have a category titled "fashion plates by decade" that is really fun to browse! the one downside here though is that there's not always good provenance info, so if you wanted more details about the plate, they're not always as easy to get as they might be on a museum website

lastly (and a bit unfortunately), is pinterest. this is really not my favorite site to use since it really is a free-for-all out there and there is no verifiable provenance or even dating info, so it's extremely hit or miss. however, I do often have to trek into the wilds of pinterest for mid to late 20th century stuff, since most of that isn't old enough to be in museum collections. the nice thing about pinterest is that it will sometimes link out to other sites that actually are reputable and have good info, but it's still worth treading with caution there lol

I hope this was helpful! ☺️💕 the vast majority of my images come from these sources, so I hope these are useful for you as well! ☺️☺️ additionally, if anyone has other places they like to search for historical fashion images, feel free to drop them in the comments/notes! 💖💖

thank you again for this lovely question, and I hope you're able to find some cool new sites to browse through some fun historical fashion! 🥰🥰

#the curator speaks #curatorial correspondences

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year ago

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PINNIE I WANNA PUT BELO IN AN AMAZON POSITION, is that what it’s called,,,? I DUNNO DONT CARE I WANT THIS ANGEL BOY BENEATH ME—DOMINATE HIM AA!! Also it’s funny imaging a small human bending a large angel :}

[YOU'RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE OOOOOHHH-💨 Fem reader. You are not Admin in this.]

TW: Reader is slightly pushy at first but it's entirely consensual.

" I want to try something different. " You muse out loud.

" ... My Lady? "

Sex with Belo is great.

Upon first meeting the angel, you had one or two assumptions in your head that you thought held true. That angels are asexual, incapable of carnal desire. You thought he'd chastise you for expressing attraction to him, that he wouldn't make for a pleasing bedmate anyway.

You couldn't have been more wrong. Belo is none of those things.

In fact, the signs were there from the start. Belo had been struggling with containing his own desires for a torturous amount of time. You simply didn't want to interpret reality for what it was. Didn't want to believe that lingering touches meant more than just a different perception of personal boundaries, that his longing staring wasn't just a tendency of angels to be vigilant... Even as he confessed to finding you the most gorgeous lesser there is, you didn't believe that attraction could hold within itself the selfishness of lust.

Obviously, you know much better by now.

You know Belo craves to please you at any capacity he can, that your approval and ecstasy in bed is something he always seems to put before his own. And you love the sensation of his body atop yours, his sheer size, his warmth, the trembling need barely contained in his limbs when he sinks into you and that unforgettable softness experienced when your hands roam around his furred figure. It's bliss from beginning to end, your own little Eden provided by the angel that somehow proclaimed you his savior.

And yet...

Sometimes, it feels repetitive.

Like Belo is somewhat scared of doing something you would consider inadequate, so he sticks tightly to what he knows. Especially positions and gestures you have initiated in the past. You initially understood this as a sign of Belo's timidity and slight apprehension regarding such intimacies, but as time passes, you're fairly certain he himself is longing to try different things.

And you've been plagued with a certain mental image for a while.

So why not try your hand at it?

The power stares expectantly at your seated form on the couch by the doorway, having previously been in the kitchen, busying himself with chores you didn't assign or request of him- As usual. He dons on his front one of your aprons, the cloth looking ridiculously tiny on him, covered with stains you assume belong to sauces.

He's always wearing that black tight suit, it almost makes you feel bad for preferring to put on loose-fitting and comfortable clothes in your own home.

" I want to try something different, Belo. " You repeat.

There's a humorous pause wherein the angel tries to calculate what you might be talking about, your poker face and neutral tone betraying absolutely nothing. His eyes widen, and the non-human straightens immediately.

" Yes, of course my Lady! I've been looking at those uhm... " Belo gesticulates oddly, searching for words he doesn't necessarily understand. " Those digital cookbooks you have, and I spotted this very good-looking dish- "

Oh. Oh the poor thing.

He thinks you're talking about dinner.

The laugh that erupts from your throat is hearty and genuine, startling your devoted celestial into ashamed silence. Maybe he assumes you're mocking him for trying to use your social media bookmarks to cook. It's a genuinely sweet and loving effort from Belo, one of very many, provided he doesn't require nourishment in the form of actual food like you. You don't want him to feel self-conscious about something so considerate.

Rising from the comforting cushions, you approach the taller monster with a dubious little grin on your lips, hands dipping behind the apron to tug the long open collar of his outfit forward, down, your eyes meeting his two naturally engorged ones. The angel's tilted eyes have always been a touch too intense, but you know that's in his kind's nature, especially since he told you his specific cast specializes in combat and protection. Still, it's ever easy to get lost in those pools.

" I said something new. "

This time, there can be no type of misunderstanding. Even if Belo had the thickest skull in all of existence, the way your lids bat coyly and your head cants leaves zero to the imagination. An index flirts idly with neat clumps of fur as his chest begins fluffing in tension. He has no saliva to swallow down, but you wouldn't blame him if he gulped at this moment.

" Ah- I... I see. "

With a gentler smile, you undo the apron's knot, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of Belo's face, hearing him coo a noise out, before carefully removing the garment in a way that causes the least discomfort possible to his smaller pair of wings.

" Did you leave anything on in the kitchen? "

" No, my Lady. "

He doesn't quite know what to do with himself, hands previously twitching by his sides now holding each other at his front, before he decides the pose isn't appropriate and holds them at his back instead, straightening- As if you needed another reminder of how he towers over humans. Three eyes bounce everywhere in the room, avoiding you as he always does when nervous, yet occasionally fleetingly checking for some type of approval in your gaze.

Cruelly, you allow him to remain in that riled up stasis for a few precious moments, standing on the tips of your toes to further crowd him.

" Good. Leave dinner to me tonight. "

When you take that lightly furred pale hand in yours, Belo follows obediently after you like a lost puppy.

" Undress. " You begin as soon as you're inside the bedroom, not even bothered to look the angel's way as you start arranging the sheets and pillows.

You're going to put him in a position that might be a little stressful for a being with wings, so there's a lot of caution to be exercised here. You figure support for his lower back and neck should help. After all, he takes similar measures with you regularly.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor has you finally looking back, faced with your angel now bare, flexing his wings gently. You've always wondered how he doesn't struggle with taking off clothes given his large wings, you'd certainly consider it a chore, just as many demons hate sweaters that get caught on their horns.

Belo presents himself to you, standing straight and spanning his wings a certain distance -Careful not to hit the walls- And spreading his legs the slightest amount in spite of his ever present slight nervousness. You've always liked that little tuft of fur above his slit, the way it feels against your fingers when he neglects to trim it for a while.

" My beautiful angel. " You praise. " Come, undress me. "

And really, if there was one request you could make of the all-powerful beings Belo so frequently raves about, it would be the ability to see the way his furious flush spreads from his face to his already fur-covered neck.

Supremely gentle and dexterous fingers work at your clothes with the same reverence he continues to extend your way no matter how much time passes. You'll never get used to this level of sweetness, this worship, Belo touches you like with a love so profound you can swear you somehow feel it in the tips of his digits. Even in his moments of seemingly greedy pursuit of gratification, Belo doesn't seem to know how to be anything except devoted. Maybe it's because he's angelic, but you can say for certain that you've never been treated this nicely, and you've never longed for anyone's embrace as much as you long for his.

The power doesn't let his fingers roam too much when he follows your command, intent on getting things done dutifully as opposed to demonstrating lack of self-control. His eyes however, swirling windows to the soul of a celestial, reveal everything he refuses to voice or act on out of respect for you. Belo's pupils dilate immensely as soon as your bare breasts are exposed, his digits acquire a slight tremble as he makes to fold your top and set it down on the drawer, until you playfully bat it out of his hand. Belo sinks to his knees in front of you, and the view is so paradoxical -A holy creature kneeling to its gods' mistake- That you nearly burst out cackling. Instead, all that leaves your mouth is a silent gasp when he catches the hem of your sweatpants and drags it down, hooking over your panties as well. The trip down is slow, measured, and you know it's not an intentional tease but you still shimmy to have it fall faster, catching a twitch in his largest eye, while the one beneath it has fixed itself on your naked pussy.

When his task is completed, Belo remains kneeling obediently, palms flat on his thighs.

" Thank you. " You purr. " Sit on the bed. "

He does, albeit on the very edge, quickly correcting himself when you make a "further" motion.

Seeing the way Belo's eyes widen as you move to almost straddle him is as intoxicating as it was the first time. You remember the luxurious roll of your hips over his own, recall his fingers twitching as he tried to grab onto you without bruising frail human skin. Delightful and memorable.

" Lay, my sweet. "

Ever the glutton for obedience, it's not long before the angel is on his back, and you immediately take the opportunity to flatten your palms to his furred chest, fingers threading between that familiar softness like second nature. Your head soon joins, nuzzling yet careful to avoid the extra eye stationed there. You trail a path of lazy kisses upwards, tracing the edges of his built-in halo you can reach and dragging your teeth across the root of his left pair of head wings.

The response is instantaneous and intense, this sudden cooing moan hopelessly erupting from Belo's throat before he seems to pale even further in shame and muffles the noise. Tsk, it seems he'll never learn to sing freely, no matter how many times you reassure the power that his angelic vocalizations are half the fun. Those smaller wings twitch and flap, the ones on his back fanning out humorously.

" You're adorable. " It's said in a mocking tone, followed by laughter as the angel fails to suppress more noises when you offer the remaining wing equal attention.

You love that he's already matting his own fur in slick by the time you reach down to part it and play with his pretty pink slit. It's engorged, his length already brushing against the fingertips that brazenly dip inside. With a gasp, the power spreads his legs slightly and tenses. You can feel his effort to keep still.

As soon as you begin crawling back to settle your head between snowy legs, he gathers enough wit to start babbling the same old drivel.

" M- My Lady, you need not- "

" I don't need to, I want to. "

Belo looks at you like he doesn't quite get the point. And frankly, some concepts seem to have been drilled so hard into his mind that you worry he will never understand other views of the world.

" You want to please me, right? " You start, kissing at his sheath until the very tip of him shows itself.

" More than anything. " The male pants.

" Then you should know that pleasing you pleases me. "

And with that, you take what's available of his rosy length in your mouth, coaxing the rest of him out almost impatiently.

Belo's choked groan of surprise has you smiling around him, amused by the impulsive horse buck of his legs before he garbles and apology and tries to melt back onto the sheets, poorly. He won't hold your head. Not from lack of desire, but that ever-persistent sense of inferiority, fisting his hands on the fabric beneath him instead. When one of his arms does rise, all he does is shakily pet your hair, inhaling sharply at the swipe of your tongue across his head, before dropping it again.

" Lady... "

He moans pitifully, a delicious sound coming from a creature so supposedly holy.

As much as you'd enjoy keeping him between your lips, your goal this time is much more fun, so you pop off him lazily. There's a moment where he twitches and his fur bristles in what anyone can guess is instinctual irritation, but Belo doesn't say a peep.

Seeing his eyes bulge when you grab Belo's thighs and start bending them up is hilarious enough that you giggle openly.

" What- What are we doing, my Lady? "

" Relax, I promise you'll like it. " Or at least you assume he will, what with his desire to always be below yourself. " Now please, hold your legs up for me. "

The title would get repetitive if you didn't enjoy it so much.

The angel does, grabbing the back of his knees and sliding his legs back with the help of your guidance, until they're basically glued to his chest. He's fit, you're not surprised he can easily hold that position. In fact, you get to see the exact moment it clicks in his bird brain, the nature of the position he's in. His cock bobs aimlessly and his wings move almost as if to cover his figure sides in shame. And, admittedly, the view has all sorts of chills taking hold of your limbs, your own womanhood singing.

" My Lady, this is so... So...! "

Eyes roll slowly at his stuttering, though you relish the tremor of his pupils when you move to hover over him, as if your much smaller body could ever constitute as a minimal threat to his.

" Filthy? Lewd? Scandalous? " You kiss directly beneath his eyes. " Yes, just how I like you, my debauched dove. "

With a soft command for him to hold still, you rearrange the pillows beneath his body properly and take a moment to figure your own position correctly. After all, as much as you've thought about doing this before, you never actually got to make that wish come true, so it'll take a bit of experimentation.

Belo continues to be mildly confused. " No- No offense, Lady, but are you sure this is correct? "

You scoot to line Belo's member up with your entrance, rubbing him against you to spread the angel's arousal and facilitate things. He shudders in anticipation, the lowermost eye on his face already rolling in pleasure.

" Why wouldn't it be? "

He's not given a chance to respond before you gradually sink onto his girth, causing such a reaction that he nearly releases his legs before holding them ever tighter.

" Gghn-!! O-Oh... "

Sparing him the smallest mercy, you're slow to rock yourself on him, letting the first shock of heat flow through him before you're flush to his pelvis. It's a wonderful position, he's hitting you deeper than usual already, ripping a soft mewl out of you as your cunt clenches greedily around the intrusion.

" See? " You huff, slightly out of breath when you experimentally bounce a little on him. Belo whines long and low, unsure what else he can do to ground himself. " It works just fine. "

The first few rocks are entirely random as you try to quickly work out a rhythm and motion that works well enough, settling for straightening up and grabbing Belo's ankles for support, careful not to twist the tiny feathers there. Finally, you're able to get into it properly, a sickly delight on your face as you watch Belo's figure shift beneath your thrusts.

Is this... What you look like to him? Not a bad sight at all.

Belo's eyes, previously closing at the first taste of rapture your walls brought him, widen like the dinner plates at the notion that he's being well and truly fucked by his human. There's a pause where it looks as if his mind has truly been fried, one eye fixed on your face, another on the sway of your tits, and the other memorizing the way your pussy swallows him.

You won't lie, the rush of dominance, of having something so much more than human willingly present themself for you, allowing a tiny human to ride them into submission- It has you beside yourself with want, and your smirk crashes into a pleasured "oh" as you join Belo in his stunned marveling.

You'll be doing this a lot more often, for sure.

" Hhn- Oh lords please- I- " Belo melts and shivers, his chest fluffing itself further and his wings twitching sporadically. " Humans have- Developed such odd mating customs... "

He's talking like he isn't throbbing madly inside you right now.

" Mhm, you need to catch up on a lot of stuff, pretty boy. "

Though of course, you'll be personally helping with that.

When your mind starts blanking in bliss and your body gives its first warning signs of an approaching peak, you look down at Belo, whose head has tossed onto the pillow supporting his neck and whose wings fan out in a tense crescendo of pleasure. His legs and feet spasm periodically and he moans the wetter his fur becomes with your slick.

Another reason you like his fur is the surprising amount of friction and texture it can offer your clit when you're intimate. It's the soft brush of a feather almost, but enough to bring you closer to orgasm all that quicker! Honestly, the only downside to Belo's incredibly soft fur is that vacuuming is a little more frequent and pesky.

In moments, you're bending to be flush to his body, batting Belo's hands away so you can hold his legs back yourself. It's an even more intense angle, making you feel even more powerful as you hold the angel down and piston his cock into you as hard as you physically can, sweating and panting in exertion.

You're sure you must look downright beastly right now, but all Belo does is whine and mewl, still gazing at you as if you were the most entrancing thing to ever exist, a wonder of the universe above him. The power gathers enough motor coherence to brush strands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear, before his arms flop uselessly at his sides once more, fingers curling in delight.

All those lavender eyes begin to roll, his hips rising off the bed yet smacked back down viciously by the weight of your body thrusting him down, in the midst of his mindless crooning noises, Belo utters your name like a plea for mercy and wraps his arms around your back, your breasts sliding on his chest and his legs reflexively fighting your grip so he can presumably wrap them around your smaller figure too.

He's a vision of the sweetest dream like this.

" Gods please don't stop- Please please- I'm sorry I can't- " The angel cries, tears beading in the corner of his three eyes, absolutely helpless and hopeless beneath you.

All of it comes together to send you well over the edge, throwing you into a climax so shockingly strong that you fuck yourself on him one last leg-shaking time before tensing and crying out to the ceiling. He follows instantly, having been holding himself for a while. You relish the sensation of Belo's cum shooting deep into your hole, only to have no choice except to drip back down and stain him, slip between his legs and yours in grossly warm globs.

Seconds of you two catching your breath silently and fondly pass, until you slowly release Belo's legs and rub his thighs in gratitude. He seems content to remain holding you, though avoids your gaze now that the post-orgasm clarity has him bashful again.

" Thank you for humoring me. " You sigh against his neck.

His wings close over the two of you gently. " Always, my love. "

#Belo oc #yandere angel #monster oc #terato #monsterfucker #terato tag #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #not sfw #minors dni #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster

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