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sankttealeaf · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x gender neutral reader #; tealeaf's writing

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m1d-45 · 1 year ago

Text

dead leaves

summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. so… what went wrong?

word count: 1.2k

-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but it’s not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know it’s him but now that i’ve said that you know it’s him so-)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist > || next >

it wasn’t meant to happen like this.

it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?

the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not see—perhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.

you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and that’s where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatos’ statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.

mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.

so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.

you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.

the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.

leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didn’t know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as it’s archon wanted you dead.

mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?

you couldn’t die. literally, you couldn’t. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archon’s feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?

elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.

liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didn’t walk toward the city. you’d learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of course—the adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.

as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.

and it began anew.

teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didn’t, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.

how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.

the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.

you were everything.

every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didn’t have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didn’t have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.

…and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.

but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.

it’s alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.

anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you don’t bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.

eventually…

2K notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

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

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

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

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

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

Fic Updates & Questions:

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

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

Alternate POV Symbols:

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

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

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

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

The white stag. The hunted. The prey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the fear was back.

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

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

Don’t cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ran.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

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

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

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

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

She’s not breathing!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I, yes…”

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

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

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

Gone.

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

No, baby, don’t say that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to be safe?”

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

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her?

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

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

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

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

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

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

“No, doctor.”

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

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

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

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

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

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leeches…

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

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

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

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

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

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

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

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

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“FUCK!!”

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

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

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

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

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

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

Her words were worse though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

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

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

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

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

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

“What if they hurt her?”

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

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

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

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

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go.

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again.

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

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

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

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

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

Eternity.

One fucking second.

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

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

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

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

You wished they would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m not here.

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

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

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

Your uncle had caught a white stag.

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

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

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

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

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

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

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

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

They’re trying to distract me…

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

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

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

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

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

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

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

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!”

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

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

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

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

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

“But she–”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chase?”

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

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

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

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

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

‘This isn’t a dream…’

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

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

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

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

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

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

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

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

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

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

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

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

Cedar leaves.

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

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

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

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

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

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

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

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

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

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

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

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

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

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

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

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

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

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

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

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

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

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

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

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

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

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

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

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

“Venison…”

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

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

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

So they had to guess.

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

Always trapped.

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

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

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

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

As though he already owned you.

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

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

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

~~~

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

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

A stage.

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

“Seven of Clubs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop. Don’t think about…

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“What card is—“

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

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

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

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

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

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

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

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

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

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

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

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

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay!”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

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

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

“Why is that?”

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

“What do you— oh!”

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

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

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

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

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

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

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

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

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

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

No.

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

Bells.

“That is—“

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

“Monsters?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway.

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

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

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

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

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams.

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

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

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

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting?

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

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

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

~~~

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

Those eyes…

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

He’s too fucking pretty.

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

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

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

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

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

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

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

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

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

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

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

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

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

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

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

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

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop.

There you go. Just smile.

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

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

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

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

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy.

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

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

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

This man…

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

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

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

The words were enough.

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

The swordsman felt like a fraud.

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

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

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

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands…

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

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover.

“Come here, little clown.”

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

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

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

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

“Good boy.”

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

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

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

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

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

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

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

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys.

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

“I’m going to play.”

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

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

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

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

Gods, that fucking cock.

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

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

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

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

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Music to the ears of his sated lovers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

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

The traitor.

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

He looked so fucking smug.

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

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

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

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

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

Just smile. Just pretend.

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

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

Author's Note:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 33

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

108 notes · View notes

mimsynims · 1 year ago

Text

Fool For Love

part 8

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry this took longer than usual, it was a stressful week at work and I didn't have time or energy to write as much as I wanted. There will be at least one more part, but I'm hoping I'll wrap things up next time (but honestly who knows with these two)

More act 2 spoilers this time!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, non-explicit injuries, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

Up until now, you’ve not been handling it very well, but you make an effort to move past it. Past him.

~~~

You keep your promise to yourself fairly well in the following days. The Shadowlands, as expected, keep you busy with new mysteries and clues — and plenty of battles — and most of the time, you manage to remain focused on the task at hand.

Perhaps your heartbeat picks up a notch every time Astarion is near, but you ignore it. And maybe, just maybe, you stare at him a smidge too long when he’s not looking, but only when you know it doesn’t pull your attention away from something important.

You’ve caught him watching you too, but you keep your distance. No distractions, not even for a quick roll in the proverbial hay.

Everything is going relatively alright — until it doesn’t.

Thanks to the psionic detector, the Githyanki ambush doesn’t catch you off-guard, but you learn quickly that you have underestimated the danger they pose.

Perhaps you all got too cocky these last few days — too many easily-won battles that have boosted your confidence into thinking that this too will be readily handled.

In retrospect, you should’ve returned to stock up on scrolls and potions before taking them on. Too late now.

It’s a drawn-out battle, wearing you all out little by little, but if it’s anything you and your friends are, it’s tenacious — and after what feels like an eternity, you’re down to one foe. It’s their leader, but even with all of you severely injured, you should be able to take them out.

You grin as Karlach deals a critical hit with her halberd, finishing the Githyanki off with a savage roar.

“Gods, that was close.”

“Too close,” Astarion says as he sheaths his swords. Things aren’t exactly good between you, but it has been getting better. “Next time we contemplate doing something this stupid, how about we don’t?”

“You’re just cranky ‘cause you didn’t get to bite either of them.” Karlach nudges him with a grin. “Isn’t that right, Fangs?”

You’re still laughing when something behind the others steals your attention.

One of the other Githyanki. You saw them get felled by one of Shadowheart’s spells, but perhaps they only got knocked out.

You stop breathing when you realise that not only are they alive — but they have an arrow notched, ready to fire.

And it’s aimed at Astarion.

It’s too late to stop the arrow as they, at that moment, let it fly — so you do the only thing you can think of.

“Tav, what–”

You push him out of the way, but it’s not fast enough.

The pain of the arrow piercing you is blinding; you think you might be screaming.

“Tav!”

You sag to the ground, and the last thing you see is Astarion looking at you with a panicked expression. At least he’s okay, you think.

After that, everything fades to black.

“…Calm down, Astarion, Tav will be alright.”

“They don’t look alright! Why aren’t you doing more?”

“The only thing we can do now is wait. If you can’t behave, leave. We’ll find you when Tav wakes up.”

You’re vaguely aware of the voices, but you’re not quite capable of parsing what they’re saying.

“Hah! And leave them alone with you lot? I don’t think so.”

Why does everyone sound so upset? You can’t remember, and before your mind is clear enough to figure it out, you drift back into unconsciousness.

Your mind still feels like a blur when you come to next. You think someone might be holding your hand, but it’s difficult to be sure when you’re groggy with pain. And you’re not ready to open your eyes just yet.

“Why, oh, why, must you always play the hero? And for me, of all people?”

You recognise the low-pitched voice. Astarion. Why is he here?

“So stupid.” What feels like hair brushes against the back of your hand. “I’m not worth you losing your life.”

“Sure you are,” you press out, because it’s that simple. “I’d do anything for you.”

He inhales sharply. “Tav? Tav, darling, open your eyes for me.”

You reluctantly do as he asks, and it surprises you to find him looking uncharacteristically dishevelled.

“There you are. You had us worried, you know.”

“Astarion.”

“I’ll go and get the others.”

“Astarion.”

Before you can stop him, he leaves, and when he returns with the rest of your friends, he sticks to the background, letting the others dote on you.

You want him to come back, want him to hold your hand again. If the others weren't around, you might have asked him to. Instead, you see him sneak out of the tent when Karlach starts admonishing you for your brave yet careless stunt.

You love them all so much, but in that moment you’re this close to telling them all to leave. You would have, if you didn’t know that they probably need this to ease their own worries.

Still, you’re eternally grateful when Shadowheart ten minutes later shoo everyone out of your tent. She’s about to leave too when she turns to give you a secretive smile.

“You said his name, you know. More than once. When we carried you back to camp.”

With a bone-deep groan, you hide your face in your hands. “Please tell me he didn’t hear.”

“Oh, he most definitely did. But you know how he is, after the initial surprise, his expression turned blank. But his eyes never left you after that.” She huffs a laugh. “Not that he let you out of his sight before that. The only one allowed to carry you was Karlach.”

It sounds too good to be true. “Really?”

“I thought he was going to attack Halsin when he bent down to pick you up.”

“Why would he do that?” It truly makes no sense.

“Jealousy, of course.”

“Astarion? Jealous?”

Instead of answering, she just gives you a wink. “Seems like you two have that in common. Now make sure to rest, alright? I’ll come by with something to eat later.”

“Right.” Your head is spinning, and not only because you're recovering from an injury. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

You want to process everything you just learned but your body is not having it; in mere minutes, you’re back under again.

No one is holding your hand when you hours later rouse from sleep. Strange that, how your mind seems to have expected it just because it happened last time. When Astarion was sitting by your side.

Astarion.

You have to find him.

It still hurts like hell, but the pain level is manageable. Perhaps a grunt or two slips out of you as you drag yourself up to standing, but no one’s there to give you grief about it so it’s fine. It’s nothing you can’t handle.

It’s dark outside, but you should’ve known better than to think that that would be enough to let you sneak away unnoticed.

“And just where do you think you’re going, soldier?”

Karlach.

“I need to see him.” She already knows, so you might as well get right to the point.

She sighs. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“No.”

“What if I go and find him for you?”

“Karlach.”

“Fiiiine. But only because I was already heading that way, anyway.”

“Dammon?”

Her besotted smile is a fetching look on her and you would hug her if you didn’t think it would hurt too much.

“Yeaaah. And last time I saw Astarion, he was heading in that direction.”

You don’t talk much on the walk over to the inn, your mind too busy going over and over what you want to say. What you want to ask him.

“You alright there, soldier?”

“Mmm, yeah. Maybe a bit nervous.” Because it’s truly dawning on you what you’re about to do. What if you’ve got it all wrong?

“Hah, trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Her gentle squeeze on your arm feels reassuring. At least a little bit. She glances over her shoulder at the smithy where a fire is still burning. “And this is where I leave you.”

“I’m happy for you, Karlach.”

“Thank you, Tav. I’d say good luck but I don’t think you’ll need it. Now go and shake some sense into the vampire of yours.”

“Will do,” you say, even though you’re not sure you mean it. Every plan you’ve made so far involving this man has gone sideways, so who’s to say it won’t this time?

Taking a deep breath, you find yourself remaining where you are. Stalling.

“Should you really be up and about, Tav?”

“Jaheira.” You are so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t hear her approach. Turning around to face her, you give her a small smile. “I have something important I need to do.”

“I see.” With a slight bow of her head, she acknowledges your wish for privacy. “It’s good that you’re here, I wanted to thank you for your help the other day. I’m not sure we would still be standing if it weren’t for you and your friends.”

“Trust me, I’m just as happy as you are about that. And you made quite the dent in enemy forces yourself, taking down several of those winged horrors.”

“Their deaths wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t dealt with Marcus.”

“Still.” Jaheira is a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about it. “We could use someone of your calibre in our party.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m needed here.”

“I understand.” Something in her expression tells you that she’s tempted. “Consider it an open invitation. In case you change your mind.”

“I will, thank you.”

“You don’t happen to know if Astarion is here somewhere?” You decide you might as well save yourself some time and ask. “Karlach told me she had seen him head this way.”

“He came here a while ago, yes. I think he’s down by the water.” She nods in the direction between the inn and the barn.

“Thank you.”

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #fic wip

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aves-rook-laidir · 2 days ago

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Here are my live notes that i typed out on the Sticker App while playing the game for the first time. - MAJOR SPOILERS -

They are slightly out of order because I was just jumping in typing wherever:

Holy shit it’s on TWO DISCS?!!?

Not me staring at the press any button screen for ages

I like that Neve is like Cassandra, your no 1

Davrin Rook bonded so fast because they were immediately thrown into a dragon battle together and it got really tough real quick

Did Gilhanain just say YOUR BLOOD KNOWS YOU’LL DIE HERE?

Absolutely loved bringing harding as the extra companion, she’s just so exasperated by it all

I do feel like the va tone didn’t always fit with certain more serious situations.

Staring at Solas in photomode, so mixed emotions, mostly exasperation.

So what was he doing at the strart? Putting evanuris in a stronger prison, then tearing down the veil, or? Because if he was just putting them in a new prison, and exlained himself to Varric non of this would be happening.

God damn, someone ask Morrigan about the fith blight, actually, is it even public record who journeyed with the Warden? Was it kept hush hush?

Can wardens still hear the calling if all the high dragons are awakend? Whos calling them in the deep roads?

I wonder if Davrin has a hard time talking about the elven god reveal because he has a special relationship with Halla and Ghilanain was the god of Halla?

Oh, why would we have Varric's shaving mirror?

Lucanis so fucking weird haha

Davrin - “Couldn’t have asked for a better day” Rook immediately, ungracefully slides down a cliff

Emmrich is making a mistake, why would he want to be immortal, like look at these three imortal clowns running around.

Ok so The Ancient Elves were spirits who took physical forms using the lyrium, which is the blood of the ancient titans, They became the first mages? This caused a war between the elves and the titans

I wish they had shown more of Emmrich getting her out of the fade, because that is his very specific skill, like all the attention Lucanis got about using the dagger, to cement Emrrich's role in all this, I wanna see him being a badass in a direct story point.

The Butcher was scarier than Elghanan, should not have been,

Elghanan should have been wayyyy scarier, less talking.

“The gods they give strength but all they ask in return is everything” dope

Literally fuck off no scene getting her out of the fade, her reacting to getting out, the grief? The Relief? Helo?

“Though Harding also told me” LMAO Emmrich

I feel like it makes more sense for Harding to sneak up on Ghillie, This is her moment, tragic because we’ve seen her whole journey. Harding saying ‘should I take the shot’ at the start of the game then taking guaranteeing Ghilanains death with her simple bow and arrow. and to have this little dreamless thing, created out of the desicrated titans be the last thing she sees, fuck yes.

The first thing they did was retrieve all the bodies. They found Harding and Leliana and the Inquisitor brought her back to her village

Solas: How did you even get out of the fade? Rook: gestures vaguely to Emmrich standing behind her ‘He knows more about the fade than you.'

I wish there was a bit more dialogue with Dorian at the end, saying ‘Do it for Varric and or Harding, won’t you? They were just so…oh, you…know...’

Taash everyone I loves dies NONONO I love you!

‘Everything dies, its what they do’ Including imortal gods

Is solas fucking losing??? fucks sake cant even do one thing

Solas assisting the Shadow Dragons at the end paint a funny picture, like, imaging Dorain trying to evacuate the city and Solas is just also there, after like 10 years. How did that reunion go?

It had to be bellara that got blighted, those gods were hers, that history is hers, and she's just so innocent, it was a great character arc

me the whole time 'its fine just go grey warden'

Shaved her head after coming out the fade to feel something

What if it’s not enough? What if it is?

I really though time travel was going to be a thing, after the dorian stuff?

Leo represent my Inky because in my AU she is too weak to travel as the mark is still sucking the life out of her, arm or no arm, but she dragged her ass up for that final scene with Solas. Leli and Josie spread a misinformation campaign around thedas, so unless you meet them directly its really hard to know if Inky is a female Elf, Male Human, and whoever else.

I hope Morrigan is ok

#dragon age #the veilguard #da: the veilguard #dragon age the veilgaurd spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #datv #da4 #dragon age veilguard #dragon age spoilers #dragon age 4 #da4 spoilers #da4 tag #datv rook #datv spoilers #veilguard

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bluecanvasshoe · 5 days ago

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Runaway

Part two of Arthur Morgan & teen!reader

Warnings: BIGGGGG Rdr2 spoilers, mentions of racism, after the gang gets split up, big time jump, no beta reader, i tried to be historically accurate!!!, descriptions of a panic attack

Summary: It's been a few years since the gang split up. You don't know anyones whereabouts, nor do you know if they're alive or not. But in your new, mundane life, you find a lead to your past. (PS: the most of the story is snippets of the gang splitting.)

AN: sorry this took so long.......... stuff is happening in my life and i found this in my drafts while looking for a distraction. i also didnt know if this was good or not, and idk if u guys would like the big change in the story but i hope u guys like this!!!

word count: 1.9k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3?

------

Beaver Hollow sucks. Everything sucks. Honestly, maybe this entire gang sucks.

Dutch sent you two out, acting as messengers for Eagle flies and his father. Neither of you agreed that what Dutch was doing would benefit their tribe, but Eagle Flies was determined. His courage, although strong, blinded him.

After you and Arthur had gone on that fishing trip not long ago, you’ve found yourself hanging around him more often; not that he minded. Naturally, you two started talking. You opened up about your past before the gang, and he told stories of his youth that hadn’t already been shared around the campfire.

However, this came with some downsides.

You and Arthur had an argument the other day. Well, you tried to have an argument, and Arthur listened.

You and Arthur went hunting this time. The sun was setting, and crickets emerged along with god-awful amounts of mosquitoes. After countless tries at Arthur’s bow and arrow you grew more and more frustrated. Turns out, it’s not as easy as pull and release. Because of the added factors of your now seemingly constant anger and the frustration of each failed attempt, you blew up at Arthur.

This included the usual, “people are worried; Dutch is insane; do something,” pleas coming from you, and Arthur’s “i know, kid; kid, I know; we’re trying our best; keep it down the camp’s gonna hear,” replies.

You went to bed that night fuming. ’We’re doing our best’? Come on! After all that’s happened, the best is far from the current situation of the gang. He’s just lying through his teeth, and for what?

You can take the truth.

The path below you two crunched as gravel dug deeper into the earth, your horses occasionally huffing as they walked along the trail. Tall, top-heavy trees were scattered amongst pine, birds chirping and singing on sturdy branches. Wildflowers that sprouted in vibrant shades of orange and purple were scattered along the sides of the path, mingling with short grass that wasn’t entirely green, yellowing as the year grew old.

Critters, mainly squirrels or chipmunks, ran across the beaten path. It gave both of you quite the scare as you rode along, not wishing to kill the poor creatures for no inherent reason. The air was chilly, but not cold. It wasn’t warm, but it was stuffy. From the ridge, you could see more trees separated by a shimmering lake in the distance, which was surrounded by… more trees.

“It’s been a weird few days,” Arthur spoke up, his voice gravelly, rough. He sounded hesitant and almost awkward, like he was trying to talk, but couldn’t find a good starter.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah. Do you… is Dutch… Does this sorta thing happen often?” you asked vaguely, glancing at Arthur in your peripheral vision.

“What do you mean?

“...This. Y’know the runnin’ east, and… people dyin’. It’s makin’ me worried, Arthur.”

Arthur fell into a short, thoughtful silence, disrupted by a harsh cough to the side. He cleared his throat and looked forward again, reaching ahead to pat his horse on the neck. “This ain��t happened before. Lots of folks are worried, but… We’ll do what we can, kid, just try to stay strong.” He replied, using the same excuse he’d use for every other person at camp.

You hesitated. The gang had been doing what they could. They had for a long time, but it only seemed to kill people. Dutch lead the gang with determination, mowing down anyone standing between him and his unachievable goals. These decisions, however, came with sacrifices. Sacrifices that stood behind him, praised his actions and followed his lead like a lamb, because they wouldn’t be able to do such a thing if it weren’t for him. Sacrifices that never stood in his way. Sacrifices that were lucky to have a grave, to be spoken of afterwards.

What if you became one of them?

“But Dutch, he- he made these choices, and… I don’t… he’s not right in the mind,” You reasoned in the nicest way possible, praying that the man beside you wouldn’t be ticked off by your remark. Judging by his opinions on the gang’s recent affairs, though, you don’t think he will.

Arthur, again, was silent. You took this as an opportunity to continue.

“I’m scared, Arthur. I’m really scared.” God, that’s not how you wanted to sound. Saying those words sounded like a plea, like you were a child. But what you said was partly how you felt, and maybe honesty was what was needed at the moment. Anxiousness and anger bubbled under your skin, the seeds of upcoming dread sprouting from when they were sown at the Blackwater robbery. “It- this ain’t normal. This is bad, Arthur, there must be somethin’ we can do.”

“I know, trust me, and I wish there was,” Arthur sighed, adjusting his gambler hat. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I weren’t scared, too. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It ain’t fair to you; you’re just a kid.” He finished, neither agreeing or disagreeing with your previous statements. “But I’m… look, we’re all doin’ our best.”

Now, you know that’s true. You’re not stupid; but really? I mean, the gang had been on the run for months. So many people have died, and now Arthur’s saying that’s the best that they could do? Bullshit. Frustration simmered in your chest, like an urge that needed to be quelled. It itched and burned, your jaw tensing as he spoke.

“I know, but that’s- we wouldn’t be here if we were doin’ our best, I mean, God, come on, so many folks are dead, and it ain’t gettin’ better-” “Kid, please-” “and people are worried! People have died, Arthur, and Dutch won’t give up. Please, Arthur, just listen-” “I am listenin’, but-” “nothin’s getting better, people are scared, and- and what’s wrong with you? You ain’t been actin’ like you usually do, people are worried-” “That’s enough. We’ve already discussed this,” Arthur interrupted, his voice serious and hardened. It cut through the sound of birds chirping, the sound blurring into the background as your stomach practically dropped. Arthur never spoke to you in that way, meaning you likely crossed a line; with the tensions and questions coming from the members of the gang, it’s not surprising he was a little fed up.

You took a deep breath, glancing at him before looking forward once again. “I just- Arthur, we’re worried. We wanna know what’s wrong.”

The two of you fell into silence once more. This time, though, the sound of birds, leaves, or wind didn’t fill it.

“Kid, look, this isn’t your business. You shouldn’t be the one worried about this stuff, this ain’t what you should be spendin’ your time on.”

“Arthur, please-” “No, and I ain’t gonna say it again.”

So that was that.

In the back of your mind, something screamed that you had to do something, anything. But Dutch was so on edge, and after Micah did who knows what with the dog, Cain? You’re a little scared to step out of line.

But when Molly was shot by Ms. Grimshaw, you screamed at her. Then, when everyone chose sides, you went with Arthur.

Dutch stood at one side of the camp, shouting at Arthur with Micah by his side. With him stood Micah and Javier, though the latter was aiming his gun towards the hazy, darkening sky. You, despite the fact that the others told you to go, stood with Arthur, Sadie, John and Charles. Without a gun to aim at the others, you simply stayed to show who your loyalty lay with.

And then the men came.

The law.

You ran, and you ran hard. But horses were no match for a scrawny teenager's legs, and you didn’t get far before a lawman tackled you down.

At the moment, the only thing running through your head is that this has got to be a nightmare. No, this is a nightmare. Your vision almost seemed to darken, everything around you growing suffocatingly close. The lawman’s shouting drowned in the dark abyss of tree shadows and your cotton filled ears. Your heart beat out of your chest, and in the back of your mind, you knew that this was happening. That this isn’t a nightmare.

They dragged you away kicking and screaming, away to the shit filled streets and swampy air of Saint Denis. You could’ve sworn you’d seen John before you were taken away from the gang’s campgrounds.

Now, your life lay in the biassed hands of the law, and not a mentally ill middle aged man and the snake in his ear. You thought that you would’ve been sent to the gallows without another thought, but despite being an ‘outlaw’, you never truly committed crimes. At least, no one saw you commit your crimes. Therefore, the law deemed you a kidnapped child in need of a ‘civil’ way of life.

So, you were taken to what they called the “orphan trains”. An ominous thing that you were not thrilled for. They were trains that’d take orphaned kids from big cities to the lonely midwest, a place you were so unfortunately familiar with.

-----

It had been years.

Years of helping the woman you were supposed to find maternal collect eggs, of tilling crops, of scrubbing dishes with rowdy, annoying kids you were meant to call your siblings. Of birthdays past without the gang; and now, you were almost an adult.

But one day, your foster dad left his newspaper on the dining table, a mistake he would regret later. The newspaper said something that, after months of mundane and domestic boredom, piqued your interest.

Morning light streamed through the lacy curtains of the kitchen’s windows, the wood of the house creaking under the pressure of the wind.

Your foster dad, David, was reading the daily news, an ankle on his knee as he went about his morning routine while you were sitting at the dining table quietly. Your foster mother, Anne, was washing dishes from breakfast when one of the boys you’d been living with barged through the door of the house.

The woman startled, dropping a dish into the water. “Jeremy!” Anne scolded, looking at the boy.

“I think one of the horses is having a baby!” he shouted, two of the other kids following him and saying things along the lines of ‘hurry up, come on!’ at the man and woman. David shot up from his seat and Anne dropped what she was doing, telling you amongst the chaos to finish up the dishes as she left the house.

You stood from your seat, watching everyone rush out with slight annoyance. When the door shut, you pushed out your chair, the wood making a screeching sound as it slid across the hardwood floors. Standing up, you walked over the creaky wood to David’s newspaper that sat on the dining table.

It was full of boring deals and uninteresting stories, but one stuck out. It was about an underground fighting ring, which wouldn’t have caught your eye if it weren’t for the witness statements.

One in particular said some very distasteful things about a man of mixed race, but the summary was that he was Indigenous and African-American.

Indigenous and African-American.

You only know one man who is of those two ethnicities. Granted, you don’t know many people; but still, Indigenous, African American, and an outlaw? Come on.

The second after you read that passage, you made a plan. You’d leave at the dead of night, as soon as possible. Maybe it’s not solid, nor is it well thought through, but there’s no time for that. That night, you pack your things as light as possible.

And then, you finally start your journey back to Saint Denis.

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ellilyre · 8 months ago

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I finished ToA not long ago and I wanted to write down some thoughts/scenes that stick with me

(in chronological (ish) order, watch out for spoilers)

Theres an italian girl at camp ! It means Nico gets to practice and speak italian ! (which probably haven't happened in about 70 years)

Will introducing Nico as "my boyfriend". I already knew they would be canon, but reading that line felt weird /pos

Apollo sees Solangelo and think of himself and Hyacinth

That night when Kayla and Austin disappeared and Apollo left to look for them, it probably was the first night Will ever spent alone in his cabin

Apollo's insane body dysmorphia. He's a god, he can always take the physical form he is the most comfortable and confident in... Until now. He is stuck in a body that isn't his, he feels ashamed, when he sees certain traits in others he find them charming or pretty, but when it's on him then it's disgusting. He complain that everything is this body's fault (ex. he wouldn't have been touched by the Eurynomos if it wasn't for his chub.)(I could go on for hours)

Lityerses ! I love that guy. Idk why i love him that much. He is my best guy.

Apollo's reaction to Commodus' name. His flashback of him. So painful he was physically sick.

Apollo talking Helios out of killing them, because he just want to be free, not to hurt them.

APOLLO ATTEMPT TO KHS TO STOP THEM ?? IM A SUCKER FOR SOME GOOD PAINFUL SELF SACRIFICE.

Jason. I'm not talking about Jason. I can't speak about Jason.

Frank and Apollo ! They are so fond of each other !!!

Apollo heard all of Frank's prayers when he was unclaimed and wished he could've adopted him.

And Frank respecting Apollo as a god although he is *vaguely gesture at Apollo/Lester*

Reyna saying aloud that she doesn't want nor needs romance. It's so rare to see aromantic representation and Rick did it so well.

Literally Apollo singing his way out of situations.

FRANK'S SELF SACRIFICE!!! (He already had one of my favorite character development before that)

APOLLO KILLING COMMODUS ??? why do never talk about that it's one of the best deaths I've ever seen that was BADASS AND FULL OF EMOTIONS.

Apollo slowly dying out of poison and the Dodona Arrow doing everything it can to keep him conscious.

I hope Dakota didn't get killed off just to give Lavinia the role of Centurion. I love my boy Dakota, and his death felt kind of meaningless, except for her rank up :/ also i feel like it doesn't suit Lavinia. Some ppl are strong and good and trustable but just not made to order others. (ill prop make a full post about that)

Dionysos confirmed to be an annoying little brother!

Nico. How does Rick manage to always give him more issues. Leave the kid alone.

When Will glows, Apollo is genuinely impressed and tells him how proud he is.

Nico destroying Nero's door with his giant zombie bull. That was cool.

When Apollo gets stabbed in Nero's tower and think it's the end, he prays "Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anyone"

And in general the few parts he talks about Leto, he's such a momma's boy and I love it.

When Apollo left for Delphi... I was fully expecting Meg to go with him. I was so worried that he went alone while already feeling that weakened from the previous events.

DODONA ARROW. FOREVER IN MY HEART.

Artemis is here when Apollo wakes up. She's by his side, she's the first person to tell him he succeeded, she hold him while he sobs...

The first thing he does is to greet his horses :) and then to see his friends.

When he gets back to the Dodona bush ! To tell them all how brave and heroic the Arrow have been !

I could spend hours talking about the character developments of Apollo, Meg and the Dodona Arrow (i love the arrow so much you have no idea) but its for another day

There's many things I didn't talk about, but the post is already long enough. I love those 5 books, and Apollo is an amazing narrator.

I love the Arrow of Dodona with all my heart.

#when ill finish tsats ill maybe make the same kind of post #writing down all my most memorable thoughts #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #nico di angelo #will solace #trials of apollo #apollo pjo #toa #meg mccaffrey #frank zhang

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chongoblog · 6 months ago

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Animal Well Update: I spent a good amount of time playing it when I get home, and this game has some DEPTH. I stopped playing once my total Animal Well playtime hit 12 hours, and here’s my progress.

-I have 51 Eggs. 13 left until I get the True Ending, from what I understand

-I got the 3 Medals and Accessed all the Circular Recesses

-I think I’ve gotten all of the items, although there are a couple spots that make me think maybe theres a secret item I’m missing because I can’t think of how to get to them. Then again I JUST got the UV thing, so I’m sure there’s a lot to reveal with that.

-I believe I’ve found 4 or 5 of the bunnies. I would list them here, but I’m trying to not spoil for others. (And I think I know how to get another one)

And while I tried to do as much as I could without looking things up, I may as well share what I did have to look up (mostly due to being impatient). I’ll once again be speaking vaguely to prevent spoilers

-I had to look up what the 5 Arrow Codes did, but I found them all myself.

-I looked up the Kangaroo locations since wandering until it showed up was gonna take forever, especially since I was never ready when it showed up

-I looked up the solution to find one egg because I was confused and it was late

-Looked up the location of the last match.

-I know that the secrets go deeper than the bunnies but dont know what exactly they are (I didnt spoil the true ending dw)

My next order of business when I get home from work today is probably going to be backtracking the map with the new items and seeing if I find anything. I have a sneaking suspicion about what kind of ability I’ll get for finding all 64 eggs that’s kinda taunted me since the beginning of this game.

One of the most rewarding experiences of this game so far has been allowing myself to become familiar with the world of Animal Well to the point where I feel like I know the place like the back of my hand. I’ve been charting out fast travel on the map like a subway system. And despite how well I feel like I know this world, there are still 13 hidden Eggs I need to find.

I’m probably gonna watch other people’s streams of this game today. Will probably watch the Any% Speedrun too (in hopes there arent any spoilers)

Needless to say, this game’s been growing on me more and more and more. I can’t imagine how crazy it must’ve been to play this game on launch day. I guess I’ll post another one of these tomorrow morning.

#animal well #journal i guess

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yennefer-of-vengerbergs · 3 months ago

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Elven Storm - Chapter 1 - The Nautiloid Crash

Well, here it is. My attempt at a longfic. Includes a whole lot of HCs, a lot of filling in the blanks, a lot of combined dialogue options and a mixture of all my Syanna runs so far, which I'm hoping will make up a nice canon for her and Astarion.

Some general fic information (may be updated as more chapters are posted):

Rating: E

Pairing: Astarion x Syanna (The Dark Urge OC)

Summary: Syanna knows nothing of her life from before waking up aboard a Nautiloid ship. All she knows is that there is a tadpole burrowed in her head and that she needs to get rid of it. And maybe her newfound companions can prove to be useful in this endeavor. Or maybe she grows to be a different person, someone who is capable of kindness, of overcoming her own nature, of valuing the friendships she found. And maybe, she and Astarion learn how to love and be with each other along the way too.

Overall fic tags (will be updated as more chapters are posted): Astarion/F!Durge, Canon compliant, Canon typical violence, During canon, Post-canon, Act 1 spoilers, Act 2 Spoilers, Act 3 spoilers, The Pale Elf spoilers, The Urge spoilers, Explicit sexual content, Mentions of Astarion's trauma, Appearances from the other companions

Genre(s): Adventure, Romance, Smut, may include angst and comfort at times

Divider from here

Read below or on AO3. Comments are appreciated so please feel free to leave them 💖

Chapter 2 ->

The pod had opened.

The blood in her head thrummed and pounded.

Who she was, how she found herself amid hellish flames, all of it, obscured by an overwhelming loss of memory.

Everything was hidden to her, apart from a vague notion of her name.

Syanna.

Whoever that was.

She wanted, no, needed, the truth about herself, and she would claw it back if it came to it.

She cursed whoever was behind it all; however many they may have been, they would certainly meet her malice once she escaped.

Kill them. Pave a path made of their corpses.

She had to admit, killing certainly seemed like a good idea. Perhaps her very first.

Even so, if there was one thing that Syanna knew, it was that staying there would be dangerous. Too dangerous.

So, first, she would get out of wherever she was. Then, she would find a way to shed light on the dark matter of herself. But before any of that could happen, she would need to arm herself at the very least.

Magic. She had magic. She could feel it, tempestuous and crackling.

Still, it would have been advantageous to have a weapon as well. Who knew what she would run into on her way out of that wretched place.

Searching the room she was in, Syanna found a discarded dagger, alongside a shortsword.

Good. She would enjoy using them on whoever was behind this mess.

A little further ahead there was a discarded longbow, alongside a quiver filled with arrows.

Perfect. Raining arrows on whoever caused this would bring her great satisfaction.

Picking those up and equipping them, she set off, fueled by both her desire to escape, as well as the anger and determination she felt, only stopping occasionally to look through whatever belongings and slates that had been discarded or thrown about, hoping to find something, anything that might give her the smallest hint about herself.

No such luck. The only information she had found consisted of the histories of the world, of humans, elves, dwarves and many others, even illithid, all of them flashing in her mind as she picked up and examined the eldritch tablets they had been inscribed onto.

The more peculiar discovery however, proved to be a brain, still in its owner’s sawed open skull. A psionic presence from within it spoke to Syanna, beckoning, asking her to save it from that place.

The body twitched, the exposed brain quivering in expectation as Syanna examined it.

“Please, before they return…they return.”

Interesting. Perhaps whatever that presence was could shed some light on the situation she found herself in.

“You sound afraid. Why is that?”

“The enemy. So many enemies.”

There was a growing anxiety within the presence. It was almost palpable.

“And what enemies are those? Who are they?”

“Attackers. So many of them. Please. Free Us from this place.”

Useless creature.

“You do realize that you seem to be past the point of saving, don’t you?”

“Remove Us from this body - from this case free Us. Please!”

Taking a closer look at the exposed brain, she noticed how it was swollen, straining against the shell of the skull.

All the better to destroy it, to poke it full of holes, much in the same way her own brain was. The mere thought of inflicting the same fate on that creature, of crippling it, delighted Syanna.

She didn’t know when she had extracted the brain from its skull.

Or when she had started to dig her fingers into it, effectively lobotomizing it, all with a twisted smile on her face.

What was wrong with her?

Despite everything, the creature seemed unaware of what had been done to it, even relaxing in her hands. Then, it jumped, landing on the floor, where it had transformed. Long tendrils sprouted, soon followed by four legs, its feet clawed.

An intellect devourer, Syanna realized.

It began to speak once more.

“We are free. Our freedom is ours. Friend!”

The creature paused, as if listening to something only it could hear. At the same time, Syanna felt something move behind her eye, as if seizing in recognition.

“We must go to the helm. At the helm we are needed!”

Suspicion made its way into her thoughts, unsure of what could happen next, or who could have passed that information along to the intellect devourer. It was certainly something that she would need to find out more about.

“Why? What is happening at the helm?”

The brain tensed for a moment, but did not reply. It was as if it was querying an unseen advisor, most likely the same individual that had first reached out to it.

“Do you not hear it? We will not survive here. We are needed to navigate - we are needed to leave this realm.”

Odd. It sounded…worried almost.

Deciding to play along for the time being, Syanna agreed to follow the creature to the helm, careful to avoid any falling debris from the destroyed side of the ship. From where she was, she could see dragons flying in the distance, preparing to attack. It was clearly too dangerous to linger there any longer, with too many risks and too many unknowns.

Before she could take another step, Syanna found herself at the wrong end of a sword, a strange woman holding it, threatening her, even calling her an abomination. She had no time to react, as her skin tingled, her head had started to throb, the same movement - no, the same squirming - behind her eye returning, accompanied by visions that rushed past each other.

A dragon’s wing.

A silver sword.

Lae'zel of Crèche K'liir, intent on proving herself to her queen by presenting her a mind flayer head as a trophy.

Her own face, seen through the woman’s eyes.

Judging by the reaction she had, the woman had experienced something very similar to Syanna.

“My head. What is this…ngh.” Panting, cursing, she continued. “Tsk’va. You are no thrall.” Pausing to sheathe her sword, she then continued. “Vlaakith blesses me this day! Together we might survive.” The relief was obvious in her voice.

Syanna raised an eyebrow at the immediate change in her attitude. It was quite apparent that whatever was squirming around her skull was a shared affliction between them. Useful, she supposed.

“What made you think I was a thrall?”

“We carry mind flayer parasites.” Frowning, she then continued to explain. “Unless we escape - unless we are cleansed - our bodies and minds will be tainted and twisted. Within days, we will be ghaik. Mind flayers.”

No. Surely not.

It was Syanna’s turn to curse and mutter to herself.

“As if everything else wasn’t enough, now I find out I’ll be turning into a mind flayer?” Syanna had begun pacing. “There has to be something we can do.” Stopping for a moment, she looked at the other woman. “Do you have any suggestions?” She certainly seemed knowledgeable of the situation they were both in, perhaps she knew of a concrete solution as well?

Pointing to something in front of them, the woman began speaking, determined and confident.

“First, we exterminate the imps. Then we find the helm and take control of the ship.”

She then lowered her voice, briefly looking at the intellect devourer.

“As for that thing, it will remain tame as long as it believes we are thralls. It may be of use in the fight to come.”

A very practical approach, if Syanna had ever seen one.

Between the two of them and the intellect devourer, the imps posed little challenge, what with Syanna’s spells making short work of them, alongside the other woman’s prowess with her sword. The intellect devourer also proved useful, its claw attacks damaging their enemies effortlessly.

Once the fighting was done, the trio continued making their way further into the ship, finding another chamber, where more kidnapped people had been taken, one - another woman - still in a pod further back, struggling to get free, pounding against it with her fists, shouting for help. In the middle, there was a console, along with other prisoners laying down, who, as far as Syanna could tell, seemed completely unaware of their presence.

The trapped woman turned her attention towards them.

“You! Get me out of this damn thing!”

Syanna walked towards the pod, ignoring Lae’zel’s protests of not having time for stragglers. In her mind, it would certainly have been beneficial to have another ally on their side, at the very least for the time being.

As she approached the pod, Syanna could feel the magic of the warding runes that were sealing it shut, drawing energy from the apparently dormant console that was nearby. It was only after inscribing the glyphs she had sensed from the pod that it hummed to life, the pulsing glow, alongside its organic lines making it appear more as a beating heart and less as a machine.

Placing her hand on the console in an attempt to open the pod, she felt the parasite in her head squirming once again, a hideous sensation which only brought on more discomfort. As quickly as the sensation came, it then faded, allowing for an entirely new sensation to wash over Syanna.

Connection.

Authority.

Acting on instinct more than anything else, Syanna focused, willing the pod to open. As she did so, she swore she could feel the console processing her command and then yielding to it.

A shiver ran across her. Across her mind. She felt…sated.

A groan, followed by a thud were what snapped her out of her thoughts. Looking in the direction of the noise, she noticed the woman from the pod on the ground, muttering to herself.

“At last…I thought I was done for. I thought that damn thing was going to be my coffin.” She then looked up at Syanna and got up to her feet. “Thank you.”

Much like before, Syanna’s mind lurched into the other woman’s thoughts, and hers with Syanna’s. She could feel her gratitude, though it was mixed with wariness, caused by her companion being a gith. Then, the sensation was gone, just as quickly.

“You keep dangerous company.” She observed, with a frown.

Syanna simply shrugged.

“It’s what you need in a fight.”

“Fair point. Looks like there’s plenty of fighting ahead.”

She then proposed that she come with them, as they could watch each others’ backs as they escaped the ship, which is what Syanna had intended from the very start.

“Very well, let’s get going.” She paused for a moment. “I’m Syanna.”

“Shadowheart. One moment…”

Syanna waited as she went to pick up her own gear, alongside an oddly shaped object.

“Time to go.”

They had finally reached the helm of the ship, where it seemed that the fighting was at its thickest, cambions and imps fighting mind flayers and intellect devourers. One of the illithids issued a command to them after killing one of the cambions.

“Thrall. Connect the nerves of the transponder. We must escape. Now.”

Lae’zel in particular was disgusted by the being. Even so, she managed to set that aside for the time being - one problem at a time.

“Do it. We will deal with the ghaik after we escape.”

Reaching the transponder would certainly prove to be challenging, as there were still plenty of enemies between it and the group. Fighting every single one of them would take too long and there was no guarantee that more would not come to join the fight. No, it was by far more preferable to focus on reaching the transponder as quickly as possible, only stopping to fight if it was absolutely necessary.

Then, a thought occurred to Syanna - if she could get herself to a more advantageous position, she could cast a spell on herself and simply teleport to the transponder, which would hopefully end things much quicker.

It could work.

It had to work.

She knew somehow - through instinct, perhaps - that she could do it. She knew the magic needed to do it.

So she moved and sliced her way through, aided by both Shadowheart and Lae’zel, until she reached a better position, her view of the transponder clear. Focusing, she spoke the words of the spell and found herself surrounded by silver mist one moment, and the next she was in front of the ship’s transponder.

Acting fast, she connected the nerves, though Syanna then worried she was not fast enough.

A dragon had appeared, breathing fire, the flames aimed directly at the transponder. Dodging out of the way, she fell to the ground, managing to avoid the dragon’s flames.

Then, there was chaos.

The ship had left whatever hellish realm it had been in, but was too damaged by the dragon attacks to remain in the air much longer. As such, once it had arrived in another realm entirely, it began its fiery descent to the ground.

Then, Syanna fell.

She was not sure how long it had been since the crash. At the very least, she had been unconscious for several hours, as night had turned to day when she finally woke up, finding herself alone on a ravaged beach.

She still remembered nothing. It was clear that expecting her memories to return once she found herself free of the mind flayer ship had been a mistake.

Syanna took a deep breath.

She could not afford to linger any longer. No, she had to find a way to remove the tadpole that was burrowed in her brain, lest her future be as blank as her past.

The gith woman, Lae’zel, had seemed knowledgeable about their condition and even hinted at knowing a way to rid themselves of the parasite. Although she didn’t know where to find her or how long it would take, it was a promising lead at the very least. Nevermind the fact that it was her only lead.

Best get going.

Getting up to her feet, she scanned her surroundings. The gear she had picked up on the ship was scattered about so she gathered it once more, inspecting it for any damage before re-equipping everything. Satisfied, she set off.

Moments had passed and Syanna found her attention drawn to the pungent corpse of a mangled fisherman. Ever since she awoke on the ship, her mind had been cold and empty, her only thoughts being those of escape and revenge. But something within herself stirred at the sight of that body, a half smile flittering across her face even.

Syanna tried to remember something, anything, about why or when she had stood above a corpse like that, but was only greeted by flashes of…dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? All different, all dead and all rotten. She did not understand how or why, but she knew, she felt that something unknown and unspeakable was deep within her.

It was vile. She knew it was vile and she understood nothing of it. She even began to have doubts about having her memories come back. If whatever glimpses she had seen and felt and thought of were any indication of the kind of person she was before, then perhaps it would have been better to simply start anew. But a part of her wanted to know, wanted to remember.

She began walking again.

Not long after, she had found Shadowheart, seemingly unconscious, with no injuries that she could see. Checking for a pulse, Syanna did indeed find that she was alive and shook her awake, which startled the woman.

“...You’re alive. I’m alive. How is this possible?”

Both women got back up on their feet.

“I was hoping you might know that.”

Shadowheart shook her head.

“I remember the ship, I remember falling…then nothing.”

Syanna nodded.

“I know exactly what you mean.” she looked around briefly before continuing. “You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you?”

“No…I don’t recognize this place. But anything is an improvement on where we just came from.”

“You can certainly say that again.”

“Well, we should probably start looking for supplies, shelter, and most of all, a healer. We might have escaped, but we still have these little monsters in our heads.”

Syanna raised an eyebrow at that.

It could certainly work in her favor though.

“We? You want to stay together then?”

“We need each other, and we both know what’s at stake. I can’t think of better company.”

Of course, Syanna agreed with her.

“One thing, just before we go.” Shadowheart paused briefly. “I wanted to thank you again, for freeing me. It would have been all too easy for you to run right past my pod, but you didn’t. I’ll remember that.”

Syanna found herself smiling at that. It was…nice, to have someone feel gratitude towards her.

Fool. She’s only a means to an end. And once she stops being useful? Then there is only death.

Syanna winced at the thought.

Things had certainly taken an interesting turn as the two women continued exploring the area of the crash.

First, there had been the intellect devourers they had come across, which they had easily defeated, weakened as the creatures were from the crash.

Then, further ahead, they had found a man calling for help.

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.”

Syanna approached, cautiously.

“There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

She couldn’t help but smile at that, the idea of killing, once more making its way into her mind.

“Easily. Stand back.”

Moving closer in, she observed the area, looking for signs of the intellect devourer.

Except, there was no intellect devourer in sight, just a boar, which had run away once it sensed Syanna approaching.

“Oh yes, intellect devourers, so easily confused with–”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before being grabbed by the man, pulling her down to the ground, a dagger at her throat.

“Shh, not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”

She felt furious. To be caught unaware by someone so easily would not do at all.

“If this is a robbery, you’re off to a bad start, friend.” she spat.

Shadowheart immediately approached, weapon drawn, a fact which the pale elf had also noticed.

“You - keep your distance. No need for this to get messy.”

“I need her alive - stow that blade, or I’ll show you just how messy things can get.”

“Ah hah, promises, promises. But I have other business, I’m afraid.”

During their exchange, Syanna tried to reach for the dagger, but it was another thing that didn’t escape his notice, his grip immediately tightening on it as he pressed the tip of it to her throat before speaking again.

“Now, I just need information. I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

Syanna nodded. Better to play along until she could catch him off guard.

Then she’d make him eat that damn knife.

“Splendid. And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.”

Well, someone certainly had their facts backwards.

“What in the hells are you talking about? They took me prisoner, just like you!”

“Don’t lie to me, I– agh!”

Yet again, Syanna’s mind twisted and lurched, and she found herself looking out of unfamiliar eyes, prowling dark, busy streets. Then light. And fear.

Then the connection broke and she was once more perfectly aware of the dagger at her throat, though it was no longer pressed as firmly, the man’s grip not as strong as before.

Perfect.

“What was that? What’s going on?”

Without hesitation, Syanna whispered a cantrip to try and burn his hand. It was enough of a distraction that allowed her to push him off and to quickly roll away before getting back to her feet.

“Argh, damn it!” He looked at her, clearly displeased by the quick turn of events. “I saw into your mind. They took you, just the same as me.”

“Glad to see we’re all caught up now.”

“Hmph.” He certainly seemed amused by her. “And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies.”

“I can’t say I blame you, seeing as I probably would have done the same thing if I were you. So, apology accepted.”

A pity, she was so looking forward to seeing his innards on the ground instead.

“Ah, a kindred spirit.” he then continued by introducing himself. “My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

“I’m in quite the state, but I’m Syanna.”

“A pleasure. So, do you know anything about these worms?”

“Yes, unfortunately. They’ll turn us into mind flayers.”

“Turn us into…” Astarion started laughing, bitterly, no amusement behind the sound. “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

Then a thought seemed to occur to him.

“Although…it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert - someone that can control these things - there might still be time.”

That was certainly an…odd way to go about things.

“Control them? We need to get rid of them.”

Astarion shrugged, nonchalant.

“Well yes, of course. But first things first…”

Syanna couldn’t help but feel that he was expecting something.

Interesting.

“You should probably travel with me then. Our odds would be better that way.”

“You know, I was ready to go at this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a useful person to know.”

Bowing ever so slightly, he then continued. “Alright then. I accept. Lead on.”

Syanna found herself smiling at that, pleased at the outcome. Having other crash survivors joining her so willingly would be advantageous, for many reasons.

As for Astarion?

He would certainly make a perfect, pretty corpse.

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