#I'm using the ship tag but their relationship is... well... it's sure a relationship alright

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 33

Keep Me Warm

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10,625

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Tainted Love ~ Holy Wars | Hatef--k ~ The Bravery

Summary: You're finding ways to cope, Shanks is finding ways to win, and the truth is finding its way out.

Recap: Emperor Shanks won the first hunt, and the first private date. The Cross Guild learned how you feel about about your red haired suitor, and the swordsman declared his plan to leave.

Author's Note: Hi friends! Just want to say that sharing this story with you means so much to me. I wish I had some Cross Guild backup in my life right now, but having y'all reading my obsession makes me so grateful! I'm trying to get back to interacting, I'm just having a hard time doing anything that's not writing this right now, but all of your words make me so happy, thank you!! 💜🙏🏼✨

Dark Content Warning: It's not the reader, but within this chapter there are references to suicide through engaging in dangerous and destructive behavior. The violent activities are mentioned within canon, but the emotional motivations are added. The situation ends well, but I'll bracket those sections with ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ in case that topic is triggering. Please, take care of yourselves, and know that you are not alone! 💜

Alternate POV Symbols:

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

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

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, 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, Threats, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Splinters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

“That’s one creepy ass boat.”

“Excuse me?”

Mihawk couldn’t be annoyed with his clown when that observation had their much taller lover nearly buckling beside him. Those large fingers dug into his shoulder while Crocodile laughed at his expense, his voice even rougher than usual at the early hour.

“Hitsugibune is a fine ship, and has carried me across the Grand Line for years,” Mihawk countered. 

Crocodile took the luggage from his hands to toss onto the one-man vessel. 

“It does have a certain flare,” Crocodile hummed, leaving a quick kiss to his temple. 

“It’s just your aesthetic, though, right,” Buggy shook as he prowled closer. “It’s not a real coffin?”

“Not yet,” Mihawk teased. It earned him an adorable frown that made him laugh, and the movement reminded him of all the delightful things they’d done to him last night. 

“Sure you’re gonna be alright all cooped up in your coffin so soon,” Buggy taunted with a few prods and pokes along the swordsman’s healing chest. 

Moans left those cruel lips, and he tried to back away, but ran into a wall made of muscle and heat, and wrapped in a purple, velvet smoking jacket.

“Promise you’ll be a good boy for me?”

Mihawk almost buckled then, loving the satisfied noise Crocodile made when he reacted to him. The three lovers kissed goodbye, until he was alone again. 

The World’s Greatest Swordsman drifted alone on his one-man boat, and wondered how long it would take for Crocodile to realize that he hadn’t answered his question.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~ 

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“King of Diamonds,” Shanks beamed at her, mesmerized by her every move, and getting caught on the gentle sway of her locket while she laid out the trick for him again and again. 

It was Buggy’s trick. Buggy’s locket.

The Emperor of the Sea didn’t realize how much he‘d needed this. Seeing Y/N’s enduring love for their lovely clown gave him a burst of hope that clouded his mind, but he kept up the front.

Maybe playing the villain won’t be so bad.

“I’m afraid you missed this one, Shanks,” she breathed, eyes fluttering a bit as they darted back to her hands. Her movements had to be practiced in front of a crowd like this, but he found himself drawn into her orbit, yet again. 

“That’s alright,” he teased, snatching the card from her. He huffed a laugh as he dropped the Ace of Hearts before taking her hand in his. Y/N’s lips parted in a soft exhale, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from them.

“I always win when it counts.”

The sound of bells filled the air.

“Do I count,” she teased, pressing those lips into a subtle, biteable pout for him. 

Hope and greed brought his lips to her skin, just a press against her wrist while he fought the urge to throw her over his shoulder and run. 

“I think she likes you, Chief.”

“What can I say,” Shanks smirked as he plopped down beside his first mate. Y/N’s eyes were following him so clearly on the huge screen that he didn’t need to glance back to check. “I think I might just win this little game.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

“I hear you’re the best there is!”

“That’s correct,” Dracule Mihawk deadpanned. He was only twenty-two years old, but the brightness shining off of the boy that had invaded his corner table made him feel aged and weary. 

Shanks didn’t think his eyes could get any wider. This dangerous, infamous man was so… pretty!

“Run along now.”

“No way,” Shanks laughed, leaning over the table. He froze for a moment under the glare of the strangest eyes he’d ever seen. “Come on, Hawk Eyes, I’m challenging you to a duel!”

The Marine Hunter didn’t spare him another glance, just returned to his book as though Shanks didn’t exist. 

“Come ooon, I bet you’re bored on this little island. I’m only here so my sniper can visit his wife, and they’re not open for company right now. Plus, my first mate already left me for the barmaid so I’m...”

Rambling. Why am I rambling?

Shanks didn't know why he couldn’t let it go, but he had to try. The young captain saw the chance to test himself sitting before him with a beautifully bored look on his face. 

“I wanna fight you.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood for slaughtering children today.”

“I’m eighteen, and my sword is ready, so let’s—“

“Let me see your sword,” Mihawk ordered. He had to stifle a smirk when the redhead obeyed him instantly. 

The saber was longer than was typical for that type, with an extended, green hilt that showed a subtle, but elegant artistry in its craftsmanship. Mihawk was tracing his fingers around the pommel before he remembered that he should have killed the idiot for handing his blade to an enemy. 

“Where did you get this,” he asked instead of stabbing the rookie, letting the young man take the exquisite weapon back. 

“Oh, uh…” Shanks’ cheeks almost matched his hair while he decided what to say. The image of this man laughing him off made sharing the full truth unappealing. “I’ve always had it. My mentor taught me how to use it. So, will you fight me?”

“You’ve piqued my interest. That’s often a fatal mistake, so if you choose to walk away now, I’ll let you go.”

“No one gets away from Red Haired Shanks that easily,” he winked, holding out his hand. 

Mihawk offered his own, and Shanks grinned as they clasped each other’s forearms for a moment. 

“I like your jacket.”

The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the compliment, but followed the young captain out of the tavern, and into the lightly wooded area outside of town. 

He could have sworn he’d seen that ugly, straw hat somewhere before.

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

You weren’t supposed to think about him. 

How could you hold up that perfect, doll face in front of all the leeches if they smelled any hint of weakness?

How could you keep yourself from crying when you remembered Buggy’s laugh that made you laugh, his touch that made you his, or his pain that broke your heart? 

Yet you kept surrounding yourself with every tiny piece you had left, a masochistic challenge to spice up this auction for your life. 

And here was the man that had hurt Buggy. The asshole that had left him wounded for decades. You had to convince him to apologize to the man he claimed to love, only for the traitor to abandon him when he needed him most. 

I hope they take care of him…

You didn’t have room for too much hope. Not when you could end up trapped with this viper, especially if Uncle caught a whiff of your disdain. 

He’s staring at my lips like he did that first day. Like I’m just something sweet for him to taste. 

“I always win when it counts.”

The sound of the ending bells felt like applause, and another smiling face filled your mind. Blood had dripped onto that stage like scattered petals, all for you. 

Pouting for the Emperor gave you a thrill of pride over how easy it was to make his eyes flash with heat. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist, and you didn’t have to fake the shivers it caused. 

The red headed pirate sauntered off, but your eyes were drawn to him again and again. 

The prey had its own target now. 

I’d rather die than marry that traitor, but if he traps me…

I’ll fucking kill him.

I’ll kill him for you, Buggy.

 ~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🗡️⏰~~~

“Holy shit,” Shanks panted as he narrowly avoided being cleaved in two by that tiny fucking dagger.

“Ha, already lost your confidence, boy?”

Mihawk hadn’t lied. He hadn’t planned on killing anyone on this boring, little island, but fresh blood on his blade had him losing himself. He’d had a few moments of hope for a real challenge, but the building disappointment was about to quicken his opponent’s death.

“Nope! Just– fuck!”

The red haired youth dodged too late, collapsing to the dirt. He clutched at his side, hardly doing a thing to staunch the blood that was slowly staining the forest floor. 

I can’t die yet. He didn’t even draw his sword… 

“You’re the strongest fighter I’ve met in awhile, yet you’re still such a pitiful creature,” Mihawk scowled, kicking the saber from the rookie’s weak grasp. “And here, I was almost having fun. What a waste of time…”

“W-wait, Hawk Eyes,” Shanks coughed, spreading more blood around. “You’re bored, aren’t you? You like fighting?”

“People can be so perceptive in their final moments,” he drawled. Mihawk brought Kogatana to the boy’s throat, the small blade poised to cease his blubbering.

“You said you almost had f-fun,” Shanks bargained, his eyes wider than ever while beautiful death loomed over him. “I'll make you a deal, alright?”

Golden eyes seemed to sharpen, just as the blade pressed into his neck a bit more.

“Don’t waste any more of my time,” came his vicious, yet waiting voice. 

“I won’t,” Shanks panicked, smiling under that cold glare. “It's too early for me to die, friend. There's so much for me to learn. I promise that if you give me a chance, I'll get stronger! Let me live, and I'll get strong enough to give you a real fun fight, I swear!”

One of the longest moments Shanks had ever experienced dragged on, while the unreadable swordsman above him hardly moved at all, until his head cocked to the side.

“Intriguing,” Mihawk frowned, still holding steel against that young throat. “I suppose I can hold off on killing you for now.”

“You can– ow!”

Mihawk removed the blade that Shanks had leaned into in excitement, and rolled his eyes with instant regret. 

“Don’t challenge me again until you’re ready. I’ll kill you slowly for making me wait.”

“No problem,” Shanks waved to the man’s back. Dracule Mihawk had already left him bleeding in the dirt. “I’ll get you back, Hawk Eyes.”

~~~⏰🔴🗡️⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

It felt so quiet with just the two of them, even with all the hustle and bustle of the guild getting to work.

He’s like a big, scary teddy bear.

“You alright little clown,” Crocodile soothed, rubbing softly between Buggy’s shoulder blades while he had a coughing fit. 

The clown gave a thumbs up, grateful that he hadn’t spoken the thought out loud. 

Mihawk had been gone for hours, and the afternoon was aging fast, but neither of the men on the couch had cared about dressing for the day. That soft smoking jacket made Crocodile’s warm body almost too soothing to lean against, especially while the clown listened to his star do their card trick again and again.

When the coughing stopped, Crocodile’s large hand pulled gently, guiding the clown back into that comfortable position. 

Buggy didn’t fight it. He knew he might be an idiot for getting used to this strange reality where Sir Crocodile cuddled with him, but he needed it right now.

Maybe he needs it too.

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

I’ll skin him. Boil him alive. 

“You look amazing,” Kat muttered, avoiding your death-filled gaze in the mirror. 

“Tell me,” you growled at the nearest staff, “why the fuck do I need to wear a swimsuit on a first date?”

They’d given you a variety of options, all of which were as red as that stupid hair. You’d chosen the one that came with a tiny bit of cloth to wrap around your hips, so you could at least pretend you were wearing some fucking clothes. 

“I’m so sorry you weren’t given more notice, Miss Sylvad,” she hurried, her empty words already draining your resolve. 

It’s not their fault. It’s his. 

“As you know, the hun– suitors, excuse me,” she coughed nervously, and you saw Kat’s eyes widen over her shoulder while you shoved down the manic laughter in your gut. “The suitors get to choose the themes of the first dates, and the Emperor stated that he enjoys long walks on the beach, so–”

“I can walk fine without–”

“There’s my lovely nieces,” Cedrick beamed, nearly hitting one of the staff with the door when he barged in. “Everyone out, even you, sweetheart.”

Kat stepped back from his touch on her shoulder, but you told her it was fine before her fruitless argument could leave her lips. 

He was going to get what he wanted, so she might as well save the energy, though she scowled at him all the way out the door.

“Nice pick,” he taunted, gesturing at your swimsuit. “I preferred the little, frilly one, but I’m sure the pirate can tear into this one just fine, even one handed.”

Nothing. Give him nothing.

“Did you have something to tell me, Uncle? I have a date to prepare for.”

“Atta girl,” your uncle laughed, lounging in the nearest chair. “Just wanted to check in on who your favorites are.”

“It’s too early to tell,” you reported, fighting to keep your voice even. 

“Well, be sure to keep me posted,” he ordered with a smirk. “Unfortunately there’s already one name that needs to be crossed off the list. I want him to have his little date though, and we should send someone else home before him. The last thing the family needs are accusations of racism if we boot the only Fishman first. Inclusivity bullshit is always a fucking headache.”

“Why…” 

Fukaboshi was overwhelming. He was two stories tall, and you couldn’t imagine leaving your whole world behind, or how any of that would even work.

Yet, he’d seemed truly kind. The prince had almost put himself, and his people, in danger with his earnest questions about your captivity. 

He’d come to this land of leeches looking for allies, but only cruelty lived here. Only gluttonous, selfish, hateful—

“Who would you like to send home first,” Uncle Cedrick asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’ll be rigging tomorrow's game so the Fishman should win the next date, then we can send him off with no worries. So who’s your least favorite?”

“I really don’t know, Uncle. I haven’t spent enough time with them to be sure.”

A little movement around his eyes, a little smirk. You weren’t going to fall for it. 

“Let’s remedy that, dear niece,” he declared as he moved toward you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He turned you toward the mirror, and his reflection was frightening. 

He was gleeful.

“I have put quite a bit of berry on your red haired date becoming the next King of the Pirates. Make sure you treat him like royalty tonight.” He left you there to wince while he called over his shoulder. “I know how much you enjoyed whoring for those pirates, Y/N. Now you could be their little whore queen!”

~~~

You were carted around like royalty in your uncle’s obnoxious carriage, already feeling the cool, gentle breeze through the wood paneling as you neared one of the only sandy beaches on the small island. The rest of the coastlines were rimmed with craggy cliffs at the edge of forests, and perching on those rocks was your preferred way to enjoy the ocean. 

Not shivering in a swimsuit at dusk, with sand already creeping up your legs.

“Wow, you look…”

All the staff scurried to the little trailers nearby, leaving you face to face with him while he scanned over your mostly bare skin. 

Shanks looked right at home on the beach. 

He’d managed to find a dark green version of his hardly-buttoned shirts that looked unfairly good against his skin, but his loose fitting pants were still covered in a headache inducing pattern. They were gathered below the knees, presumably to make his long walks on the beach in those lame sandals that much easier. 

And his cape. How could you forget the cape? 

He was still gawking at you while you tried not to fume at how fucking stunning he looked in his stupid clothes. 

“Why are you dressed like this?”

“You don’t like it, Emperor,” you pouted, playing pretend with a wobble of hurt in your voice. “I heard you wanted a beach date.”

“I like it very much,” he purred, bringing a gasp to your lips when he was suddenly inches from you. He trailed his fingers down your neck and chest, following the chain of your locket until he smiled. “I just don’t want my little bunny getting cold tonight.”

Shivering under the weight of his warm cape, you thanked the charming villain while he led you to a little table by the fire. Staff rushed up to serve you, but Shanks snagged the open bottle, and waved them off while you tried not to let your mouth water at the platter of hors d’oeuvres between you. 

He poured the sake, but said nothing while you toasted. Just stared at you, his little half-smile growing deeper when you accepted a bite of food from his hand.

At least you didn’t have to worry about your food with Shanks tasting everything along with you. No one would dare spike the Emperor’s drink.

I might. If I have to.

You faded in and out of daydreaming his murder, and nearly forgetting. 

Shanks was the perfect predator, luring in his prey with such playful joy and power. He was pure light, drawing in the moths until they burned to a crisp in his cruel, selfish flames. 

You knew this, yet there were moments when he made you truly laugh, and you clutched at your locket, silently vowing again and again that you would destroy this man. 

If he didn’t kill you while you made him pay, then his crew surely would. It was a last resort. 

You didn’t want to die, and it felt nice knowing that.

Yet if the only options you had left were being owned by this monster, or dying while you took him down, then you’d get him drunk and happy on your honeymoon, and gut him like a pig. 

Until then though…

“You feeling alright, gorgeous,” your prey checked in, guiding you to a trailer to wash up. The staff disappeared again, scattering like cockroaches, but the illusion of privacy never fooled you. 

“I feel good.” Your hum made his eyes glint for you, and he pulled you down the shore, away from the staff, and their snail-covered equipment. 

“Wanna dip your toes in,” Shanks ginned, wrapping his arm around your waist. It felt like he wouldn’t give you a choice either way. His strong fingers curled around your hip, teasing along the edge of your swimsuit, and your body ached when you remembered what they could do to you. 

You wanted to forget for a while. You wanted to pretend. 

Might as well enjoy myself before I kill him. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

He’d almost forgotten where they were. 

It doesn’t matter. I’ve got her, Buggy. Your shining star.

When she laughed, the Emperor of the Sea forgot everything. 

It was a perfect sound, a beautiful movement of her body, her head thrown back just a bit, as though he’d shocked the laughter out of her. 

She didn’t look like a wounded star tonight. There was fire beneath all of her flirting, and he had to feel it.

Greed crept back into his heart the longer he spent by her side, and he couldn’t help but reach for her, pulling her toward the gentle sea. 

He wanted her. He wanted all of them. 

Shanks wanted everything, and that sweet, little pout of hers seemed to promise it. 

“It’s too cold,” Y/N shivered, avoiding the soft waves that lapped along the shore.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

She snorted, clamping a hand over her lips when he cocked a brow at her. His lovely date dipped her toes in, then took off up the beach, her laughter filling every bit of his mind until he joined in, chasing after her.

“How are you going to— oh,” she panted, gasping when she turned to find him so close. 

“Bunny,” he laughed as she tripped on his cloak trying to run backwards. He caught her just in time to fall with her, bracing with his elbow to keep his full weight from pressing her beneath him.

Shanks forgot. 

That shining star was still gasping as she laid on his cloak, a perfect blanket spread out to watch the night sky she must have fallen from. The soft tint of the night made her skin seem unreal, intoxicating. 

He had to touch her.

She touched him first.

Y/N’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into his hair when she pulled him in for a kiss. He couldn’t hold in a low growl that grew when she drank it hungrily from his lips. 

Nothing else existed when she pulled him closer, tugging at his shirt to tease her nails along his back. She moaned so sweetly around his tongue when he grinded himself against her, barely any cloth to keep them apart. 

He almost forgot.

“Mmm… Hey, bunny,” Shanks purred, his eyes heavy lidded to match the lovely ones beneath him. “Are you sure—“

“Aren’t you going to keep me warm?”

Y/N was pouting, teasing, begging, her fingers still trailing over his skin.

Everything about her was giving heat. 

Everything was perfect. 

Everything except for a flash in her eyes that plunged Shanks’ heart into the icy depths of the ocean at his back. 

“Is something wrong,” beautiful death asked softly, her mask so exquisitely crafted. 

“No, not at all,” Shanks cleared his throat, pushing himself away. “I just… It would be a shame to have my first time with such a beauty in front of an audience.” 

The sound of bells saved him.

She tilted her head back, sighing when she saw the vehicles approaching. 

“Bunny, I—“

“Thank you for the lovely date, Emperor. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He helped her up, brushing the sand from her skin while he tried to figure out what to say. 

He didn’t think fast enough, and soon the staff had swarmed her, wrapping her in a fluffy robe before whisking her away.

The red haired pirate declined a ride back to the estate, waving the people, and their watching snails away. 

It was a long walk. 

There would never be enough distance for Shanks to cross to get away from the sickness that had seeped into his bones, into his every organ. 

Y/N’s empty eyes had branded guilt onto his heart before, and he couldn’t stand his arrogance. He thought he’d already made it all better, that his greedy heart was going to take everything it wanted. 

I wanted to own her, just like the leeches.

Tonight, Y/N’s eyes hadn’t been empty, but she was so good at hiding.

Or I just saw what I wanted to see. Until she…

What Shanks had seen in that flash, in that glimpse beneath her mask, was evil. It was frightening, sick, manic.

It was hate. 

I did that. I filled that lovely girl’s heart with hatred. 

The walk wasn’t long enough to shake off his self loathing, but Shanks knew what he needed if he was going to make things right. 

He needed one more chance. 

One more private date. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Look, I’ll taste it,” your mother sighed before taking a drink from the steaming mug she kept brandishing at you. “Now please, drink it, sweetie. You look…”

“I look like death,” you drawled, wishing the coffee would cool down so you could chug it. 

“Not at all, Miss Sylvad, you just need some brightening up! We’ll take good care of you,” chirped your mom’s favorite makeup artist. You couldn’t remember his name this early in the morning, but you were fighting not to throw the hot coffee at him so he’d stop being so fucking cheerful. 

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep last night. 

The scent of him had lingered around you, even after you’d tried to scrub him off of you in the shower. 

The whole night had replayed in your mind, making you dizzy with guilt over every moment when you relaxed, when you forgot.

Then it would cycle through again, rage building until you chewed your tongue to keep from snarling to the empty air around you. 

But your body…

Frustration nearly clawed itself out of you, and you’d had to hold your breath to fight the screams and tears it would have left in its wake. You’d been so fucking close to having something to turn your brain off for a minute, even if it was him.

All of your attempts to take care of that need on your own left you defeated, your guilty hunger twisting every image you tried to cling to.

You couldn’t imagine his fingers without picturing the gloved ones you missed so much. 

Couldn’t picture Shanks fucking you without remembering him making love to Buggy. You were trapped in silence on the edge of that bed again, but there was no one to rescue you this time. 

Last night, you’d fallen apart. It had to be it. You couldn’t afford these emotions. 

You’d bitten your pillow to stifle the wracking sobs while your mind tore you down, forcing you to mourn more than just Buggy. 

It felt like you were choking on their names, all the men you’d left behind. 

If loneliness alone could kill, you would have died there in that luxurious bed, aching to be smothered in the heat of bodies you’d never feel again.

Shanks was torturing you. His very presence was a reminder of the daydream you had fooled yourself into thinking you could keep. 

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

“What? Oh, I’m… I’m fine.”

The sound of tears in your voice was enough to drag you back. 

You let yourself fall away. 

Empty.

Empty’s good.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Benn literally kicked his ass out of bed this morning, ripping the expensive bedding off of his captain while he scolded him out of the dream world. 

“Quit complaining,” his first mate commanded him, rolling his eyes at the pathetic groans. “You’ve got a beautiful girl to win, Chief. You can sleep when she’s yours.”

Shanks’ morning mind was still soaked in last night's attempt to drown it in sake, so he couldn’t tell if he’d thanked or cussed out the older man for his help. Regardless, the red haired pirate was dressed for breakfast, luckily remembering his appointment.

After the first dates, the suitors got to have breakfast with the Sylvads. 

Maybe I’ll get a moment alone with her.

“There’s our favorite Emperor,” Cedrick called through the door, gesturing for Shanks to join them. “Make yourself at home!”

“Home” was strangely sterile, more of a conference room than a dining area. Cedrick sat at the head of the table, offering the empty seat beside him, opposite Y/N, and her practiced smile. 

I can do this. I can convince her I’m on her side.

I have to.

“I thought this was gonna be a family breakfast. You’ve got a little sister out there, don’t you, gorgeous?”

“I—“

“Don’t worry, Shanks,” Cedrick waved off the question. “There will be plenty of time for family get-togethers. Since you joined our game at the last minute, I figured we should have a little business talk before you get back to all the pleasure.”

Shanks almost shoved his fork through the man’s throat. 

The taunting glance he’d given his niece at the last word tested Shanks’ self control, and he couldn’t believe how calm she seemed. 

“Of course. I understand it’s not just love we’re fighting for.”

“Not love. Family,” Cedrick vowed. He emphasized his words with a firm grip on Shanks’ shoulder, and the pirate had to hold his breath to keep from shaking him off.

How does she do this all day?

“Whoever marries my dear niece will be family, and Sylvads take care of their own. I know there’s a lot we could do for each other.”

“It’s an honor to be considered,” Shanks toasted them both, aching to see anything real behind her polite mask. 

“You know, Shanks, it’s a real shame you went to the wrong brother all those years ago,” Cedrick mused, shifting his tone just enough to suck all the air from the room. “You might have been King of the Pirates by now if you’d asked me instead.”

“What do you mean?”

Shanks mumbled those loathsome words while the ground disappeared beneath him. The question in her eyes sparked his panic, but it was too late. 

“Please, Arbo loved to brag about drinking with Roger’s apprentice. I could never understand how he let a little girl spook him out of the deal of a lifetime.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her eyes were wide when she asked, but Y/N wasn’t looking at either of them. She was slipping further and further away with every word her uncle spewed, and Shanks had no idea how to stop it. 

“You know the family stories, niece, and you’re smart enough to figure out which ones are true,” he chided. 

Cedrick would have lost his hand when he tapped the tip of her nose, but Shanks was frozen. 

“Your daddy turned down the chance to help the Pirate King’s apprentice build the next ship to conquer the Grand Line. Arbo could have made history, but he decided not to because his ‘widdle numbers girl’ cried about some gods damned tree.”

…

“Wha-what?”

She was so good at hiding, so it felt like his soul cracked when her voice did. Horror and shame filled the Emperor of the Sea when a daughter’s grief shone in those beautiful eyes. 

“It had to be fifteen, nearly twenty years ago now, wasn’t it?”

He sounded fucking jolly while he ripped both of their hearts out. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Shanks coughed, caving when the man gripped his shoulder a bit harder. 

“Well, I don’t have the same qualms as my dear brother, so I might be willing to butcher an Adam Tree. Only for family, of course.”

Unshed tears were balanced in her eyes, and she seemed to be turning herself into a statue before she’d let them fall. 

There had been time to tell her. Shanks’ mind flew through a list of excuses for why he hadn’t, why it wasn’t a good time, how she’d been going through too much to tell her a story about her dead father. Yet this whirlwind of a woman had cleared away his old disguises, so he could no longer believe his own lies. 

I didn’t even think about telling her. All I cared about was getting what I wanted.

I’m no hero.

“I was wondering if that’s why you joined the game,” Cedrick smirked. He squeezed Shanks’ shoulder one last time before releasing him, but the relief was lost when the next words spilled from that evil mouth. 

Shanks watched every bit of movement on her face now. He watched his selfishness curdle around her, poisoning any slim chance he still had to gain her trust. 

“All the players are going for the One Piece, so Red Haired Shanks is back to get his miracle ship,” Cedrick taunted, his eyes glued on his niece. “And now he can finally teach the little brat that cost him his boat a lesson. I wonder if my sentimental brother would have chopped down that tree if he knew his favorite daughter would have to spread her—“

“What about you?”

“Excuse me,” Cedrick turned toward the growl, his brows raised a bit. 

He’s not nearly fucking scared enough.

Shanks paused too long, but the second the asshole started to tilt back toward her, the pirate started talking. He had no idea what to say, but he knew he had to keep that piece of shit from looking at her again. 

“Families help each other out,” Shanks flirted, feeling like he was swallowing venom with every moment he smiled at this monster. “So, what about you? How could I help out my new family, if I were so lucky?”

“I have a few ideas,” Cedrick purred as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were relaxed, and slow while they scanned over him, as though he had all the time in the world to make an Emperor of the Sea wait on his every word. “I think that’s enough business for today, though. Let’s get back to pleasure.”

Cedrick Sylvad forced them to toast at that, and Shanks couldn’t understand how his niece had kept all of those tears from falling. Y/N’s cheeks were dry, and she smiled at him when their glasses touched. It was a perfect smile, welcoming, alluring, and sweet. 

It was a death trap. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

Every time Shanks walked into a tavern, he knew he might meet his death. Would it be with his weight in alcohol, or with the slim hope for a golden eyed grim reaper tucked into a corner booth?

Shanks had gotten stronger before, but since a few stupid words had taken all the joy from his life last year, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Beautiful death sounded pretty good, but all he kept finding was booze. 

Until tonight.

“Hey, Hawk Eyes.”

“Hmm? Here to interrupt my lunch,” Mihawk noted, boredom radiating from him. “How delightful.”

The new Warlord of the Sea could feel the difference in power in his former opponent. He could see the muscles born of years of holding a sword in the redhead’s forearms while he carried two heaping mugs, invading his table again after four years. 

Mihawk could see the dim light of this sticky tavern glinting off of that lovely sword.

“I prefer wine,” he drawled, returning his gaze to his book while he tried to catch the man’s heartbeat over the noise. He’d have to get closer for that, but it was an unnecessary risk.

That sword deserved a true fight. 

“More for me then,” Shanks shrugged, gulping down one of the beers while his enemy sighed.

“If you’re not serious about challenging me, then kindly leave me to my reading.”

Shanks reached for the hand that held the book, but it withdrew so fast, danger in those golden eyes now as they narrowed on him. 

“There’s the monster I remember," Shanks raised his mug, drinking in the sight before him. 

Dracule Mihawk pulled his feet down from the table, and set his book aside, never taking his eyes off the pirate. Adjusting his jacket looked like an instinctual habit, the maroon fabric and floral patterns seeming out of place on a killer’s skin. 

“Do you shave your sideburns all pointy like that, or–”

“Are you suicidal, rookie?”

“What do you care,” Shanks scoffed. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to. “You’ve been looking forward to killing me, haven’t you? And I don’t see any blood on that big sword of yours, so you must be bored here.”

Mihawk wanted to stay bored, but this pretty pirate, and his ugly hat were getting on his nerves. 

“I’m sure one of the local drunkards could grant your death wish in a back alley brawl. I don’t need to dirty my blade on weak blood like yours.”

Oh, but he wanted to. 

And the red haired captain could see it. Just the slightest curve of those cruel lips, a faint intake of breath when he stretched his arms above his head, that dangerous gaze caught on every mark of training on his body. 

Shanks was fucking high on it, and he wasn’t going to let it end so soon.

“I’m here to challenge you, Hawk Eye Mihawk,” he smirked, finally free of thoughts as thrills shot through him. “I’m here to end you.” 

“You’re here to try.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

It’s okay. You’re okay.

Soothing words were bad.

Not real. It’s all pretend. 

Uncle Cedrick was talking again, lording over the lunch that had been laid out along the beach today. 

The beach where you’d begged him to touch you last night. 

Not real. 

Nothing matters. 

Fake is fine.

Not real. Can’t feel. 

“Come now, niece, don’t keep the hunters waiting!”

He handed you bit of cloth, and you had no idea what the fuck to do with it. Reality reformed around you, and you found your suitors lined up on the sand, watching your every movement. 

You held up the flag and dropped it down, grateful that you’d guessed right when most of the men started running toward the waves. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” came a deep, deep voice that almost pulled you free. 

“Hi, uh… Hello, Katakuri,” you shook beneath his gaze.

Oh yeah. Maybe this gentle giant will crush me to death tonight. That might make things easier.

“I was hoping that since it’s our night tonight, I might be able to sit with you today?”

“There’s no rule against it,” your uncle shrugged, snagging his drink to raise it toward the crimson haired man above. “Don’t ignore your other suitors though, niece. They’re putting in a lot of work to win you today.”

The portable screen that had been set up between some of the larger vehicles caught your eye. It showed Giberson lounging with a cocktail, sticking his pasty toes in the sand while he waved at the younger men running past.

Thankfully, the cam snails shifted their focus to your other suitors, their powerful bodies gleaming while most of them tore their shirts off before diving into the waves.

It was hard to enjoy the view with that glaring, red hair always hogging the screen. 

I bet he’s a fan favorite, that fucking—“

“Do you like sweets, Y/N?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked, head twisting to meet those stunning eyes. 

“I’ve noticed that you don’t seem to like the food they’ve been serving here, and since I was hoping to make something with you during our date tonight, I want to be sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Katakuri was shielding his eyes from the sun to look down at you, and you felt a stupid bit of guilt for ignoring this seemingly sweet man that came here to own you. 

“I love sweets, I’ve just been so nervous,” came another lie that was true. “It’s hard to eat when I’m nervous, but if you promise to share with me, then I can’t wait to—”

“Well, Emperor, that’s not quite what we were looking for,” Uncle Cedrick teased as he followed Shanks back to your table. 

“I found what I was looking for,” he rasped, going to a knee beside you. Your image on the screen held you prisoner, just as he planned to do.

Shanks’ title had never suited him so well. The Emperor of the Sea was drenched, his red hair gone dark, clinging to his face and neck. Drops of the ocean fell from the ends to pour down his body in hypnotizing lines. His chest was almost always bare, but the way his skin glowed under all that salt and sun turned his body into a work of art, something to gaze upon and enjoy, and you fucking hated him for it. 

Monsters should look as ugly as their souls. 

“I realized I didn’t bring you a gift last night, and I had to make it right.”

You heard the sand shifting as Katakuri moved closer, but Shanks held your gaze. 

Those soft, brown eyes held nothing but lies. 

“A beautiful shell for a beautiful girl,” he breathed, wincing slightly when your uncle joked for the crowd, lamenting how “lovey dovey” things might get if all the hunters tried to spoil you. 

You had to accept his gift.

It was a large conch shell, and it was beautiful, with spirals and spikes laid out in gentle colors. 

“Listen to it, Y/N. Can you hear the ocean?”

“I… Yeah, I can,” you nodded, holding the shell up to your ear. Distant music filled your mind, and you shoved the memories down. Luckily, a trail of dripping suitors was headed toward you, and you were grateful for any excuse to stop looking at him. 

You were so fucking close to smashing that spiky shell into his face.

“The deep, blue sea loves its creatures so much that it sends its ears along with them.”

“Uh, thank you? I–“

“And the winner of today’s hunt is Prince Fukaboshi!”

Shanks had no choice but to move when Uncle Cedrick grabbed your elbow to guide you to another small stage, riding it into the air beside you. 

The merman prince looked like the God of the Sea. 

His spotted tail made giant patterns in the sand as he floated toward you, shaking out his light blue hair before you came close to his glinting smile. His teeth.

Shark. He’s like a shark.

“For you, Miss Sylvad. I hope that whatever this treasure is brings you as much pleasure as your company brings me.”

So very carefully, Fukaboshi’s massive fingers placed an ornate wooden chest on the platform in front of you, and a look from your uncle sent you to your knees to open it up.

Salt water and seaweed poured out, sending chills over your skin before you reached inside. The treasure was hard to identify in the soggy container, but soon you held it up for everyone to see. 

Everyone could see you while you stared at the intricate ship in a bottle, your dad’s signature redwood still painted on one of the sails. 

“Thank you for finding this for me, Prince Fukaboshi,” you praised, teetering on the edge of tears again. “I… I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

You hadn’t seen one of his little ships since you’d smashed a few of them to pieces ten years ago. The rest had been hidden away before the spoiled heiress could destroy them all during another tantrum. 

More of dad’s perfect creations that he’d lovingly stuffed into a pretty cage.

The world swerved, and by some miracle, your shaky hands placed the bottle back into the chest, closing the lid with a soft thud.

“Are you feeling well, niece,” Unce Cedrick crooned as he laid his hand on your back, painting the picture of a loving family.

“Yes, uncle, thank you,” came your soft, gracious voice. Your Sylvad smile was the only armor you had against the onslaught of eyes.

“I feel perfect.” 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

It was the perfect fight. The perfect dance.

“Where was this fire back then, Red Hair? This rage?”

“You trying to distract me, Hawk Eyes?”

Shanks pressed all of his weight against that powerful blade, their swords scraping against each other like deadly instruments. Mihawk had that huge weapon tilted down for an attack he couldn’t finish, and the younger pirate laughed as he caged him in against a tree. 

“There’s no need,” Mihawk growled, his body singing with the first true challenge he’d faced in years. “You’re still an overconfident, little boy.”

“Well, this— gods damn it, really,” Shanks groaned, unable to rub the pain off of his face with all of his strength holding his sword against the other. “Aren’t you a fucking swordsman? Head butts don’t seem that honorable.”

“A true fighter knows when to be flexible,” Mihawk taunted, finally slipping from Shanks’ hold. 

Perfect. 

Any of his previous opponents would have been sliced in half by his quick recovery, Yoru gliding through the air like a bird of prey.

Yet this man parried the attack with hardly a second to shift after Mihawk’s escape. 

And he was smiling. 

“I told you we’d be having fun.”

“That’s what you’ve been training for all this time, Red Hair? You’re willing to die for a bit of fun?”

“Aren’t you?”

Their taunts grew breathier as the clash of blades went on, but soon they both carried feral grins, laughing at every near miss. They didn’t notice all the trees they knocked down, or the creatures of the forest that fled into the golden glow of the coming sunset.

This perfect dance had lasted for hours, but it could have been seconds or days to them. 

The dancers lost themselves in the sounds of bodies and blades, in the strength and will of their beautiful enemy, and in the sweat, blood, and dirt that only made them seem more like beasts, hungry for more. 

Until the end. 

“Do it.”

Mihawk couldn’t believe it. 

He’d slipped. Hours and hours of sweat and blood dripping through his fingers made him slip just enough for his enemy to slip through.

I should have wrapped the handle better. 

The swordsman huffed a laugh at his own arrogance. He hadn’t had to worry about sweating through that fabric in years. 

“Laughing in the face of death, huh,” Shanks asked, holding Gryphon to the Warlord’s throat. He’d pinned the man down, his weight pressing his enemy into the rough ground. 

“I’m waiting for death, Red Hair,” he sneered, stretching his neck to give the man a clearer target. “Get on with it.”

“Now why would I wanna do that,” Shanks rasped. The chaos in those pretty eyes was hypnotizing. 

Shame and fury almost broke the man loose, but all he could do was seethe while blood started to trickle down his throat from his movements. 

“If you don’t finish this I’ll—“

“Make a deal with me,” Shanks purred, leaning close to breathe his bargain over those snarling lips. “I want you to live, and get stronger, so we can have even more fun next time.”

“If you don’t end this now, I will kill you sl—“

“Slowly, right? Sounds like fun to me.”

He freed the monster, collapsing onto the ground beside him to laugh, and wince with the pain of their dance.

This feels good.

“Tomorrow. You die tomorrow, Red Hair.”

The Warlord felt pathetic spitting the threat from his back, but he tilted his head to find that shiny, bloody smile again. 

“Tomorrow it is,” Shanks agreed, before diving into even more dangerous distractions. “What about tonight, Hawk Eyes? You got any plans?”

“You are truly magnificent, you suicidal fool,” Mihawk laughed, a lovely sound from those cruel lips. The redhead wouldn’t stop beaming at him, and something in him snapped. 

Mihawk couldn’t stop laughing, even through the soreness, even when his ridiculous enemy joined in. 

“What do you say, swordsman, wanna go grab a beer?”

“I prefer wine.”

“Whatever you want, loser—mmnf.”

“I will kill you tomorrow,” Mihawk sneered, rolling to hold Kogatana to that pretty throat.

“Let’s go celebrate your victory then,” Shanks winked, his jaw shifting in playful challenge. “Do you prefer red or— It’s red, isn’t it?”

“So perceptive in your final moments,” Mihawk drawled after too long a pause, but he helped his enemy off the ground. 

He walked beside the man that could have killed him. That should have killed him. 

This isn’t safe. 

Mihawk tried to listen to his instincts, every muscle in his body screaming for him to take down the smiling threat at his side. 

Yet all he could do was follow that red, unable to look at anything else. 

~~~

“What are you doing,” Mihawk growled, shrugging off Shanks’ touch when they entered the tavern.

“Don’t you wanna clean your pretty clothes first,” he teased, before nodding his head toward the hallway he’d tried to pull his enemy down. “My room’s this way, and it’s got a nice bathroom we can use. We look pretty fucked up, Hawk Eyes.”

Shanks leaned in again, his lip scraping through his teeth just a bit. Just enough.

Fuck being safe. 

“Getting cleaned up is going to take awhile,” Mihawk gave in, returning that heated stare. “How many bottles can you carry?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

Shanks had finally figured it out, but the weight of nausea wouldn’t leave. Buggy knew she’d wanted him, he knew that breathing, but listening to Shanks touch her when he didn’t know how she felt was… 

“You need to get some sleep, little clown. Do you… Did you wanna sleep somewhere else?”

Crocodile tried to sound light, as though he’d be fine with an empty bed knowing that his clown would be whimpering in his sleep like he had every night since she left. There was a growing awkwardness in the air since that private date started, and he didn’t know how to quash it, or if he had any right to.

“No, I don't,” Buggy admitted. That scarred face seemed so careful, as though the man were holding still so he wouldn’t spook him. With a sigh, Buggy knew it was probably true. He let himself be swallowed by that comfortable, deadly warmth again. 

Holding him close, Crocodile fell through his own mind.

At some point, he had lost sight of his goals. The greed of how to reach them made him lose the vision, and ultimately lose it all. How many other things should he have protected instead of destroyed? How could he ever balance the scales with those he wanted to keep?

“Hey, boss,” Buggy cleared his throat, lips twitching nervously when he turned to look at that frightening face, unreadable as stone. The tension in his body was pretty readable though, and it didn’t seem like either of them would be falling asleep anytime soon.

“I know it’s late, but do you, uh… wanna call him?”

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

They set their swords down. 

Mihawk had almost walked away, but Shanks tossed his sword out of reach first before backing into the bathroom with a crooked grin, and an open bottle of wine in each hand. 

“You comin’?”

The Warlord followed, not knowing if he could see the other man as anything but an enemy, even for a night. 

The bottle of red helped. 

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“It’s fine, I’ve— fu-uck!”

An absurdly large splinter had pierced into Mihawk’s lower back sometime during the fight, and although the two men had been staring at each other while they showered, they hadn’t touched until Shanks saw him struggling with that invasive bit of wood. 

“This little thing hurt that bad, huh,” Shanks teased as he tossed the splinter, reaching for the first aid supplies the bartender had shoved at them when they walked in dripping with blood. 

He soaked a swab in alcohol, and pressed it to the small wound before the swordsman could dodge him, and the desperate noise he let out made Shanks’ jaw drop. 

Mihawk turned away, grabbing a towel to tie down his body's reaction before leaving the redhead in the bathroom with his mouth still hanging wide. 

“I’ve got some extra pants you can—“

“I’m not wearing your ugly pants. They look like an old lady’s couch.”

Shanks snorted, admiring the sulking Warlord that was cleaning his already clean blade. 

“No pants then. I can live with that.”

“Is this what you wanted all along, Red Hair? I would have have fucked you on the tavern table if you’d just asked nicely.”

Shanks had left his towel in the bathroom, and his body’s reaction to those words was on full display while he leaned against the doorframe. 

“I don’t think losers get to be on top, Hawk Eyes.”

Rage was back. 

“And I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to kill you.”

“Come on, friend,” Shanks dared, taking another swig while the hissing monster held that tiny blade to his throat again. “Let’s have some more fun.”

Who moved first? Neither could tell, but however it started, nothing in the world could stop them now. 

That kiss between rivals sparked another dance that would last for hours. 

Another fight that left them snarling and breathless, throwing taunts back and forth while they tore each other apart. 

Another battle of strength and will to see which man would fall to the other. 

“You truly believe you can take me,” Mihawk laughed, shoving his opponent against the wall hard enough for the wood to groan, and the dust to shake loose from the shelves beside them. 

“I believe you want me to,” the redhead taunted. It felt so good to be lost. “You keep hunting for someone who can. I bet you’re just dying to get fucked into the ground, aren’t you? Want me to hurt you?”

He fisted into that soft, black hair, yanking the man’s head back. That pathetic moan was music to his ears, and his cock was dripping with the need to shove it into the swordsman already. 

“And what about you,” Mihawk growled. He grabbed onto Shanks’ pulsing cock, and laughed when his knees nearly buckled. “You’re so obsessed with fighting me, trying so hard to fuck me. Willing to die for some fun? I’ve never met such a desperate whore.”

And they were kissing again, with Mihawk laughing into Shanks’ mouth while his cruel fingers made his enemy whine.

“Gods, if you’re gonna be such a sore loser, I guess you can take the win,” caved the redhead, breathless and aching to let this man clear his mind for as long as he could. He stumbled over to his bag, and tossed his rival a bottle of lube.

“Knew this was what you wanted,” Mihawk purred, already fisting the cool liquid over his swollen cock before bringing the bottle to his opponent’s waiting body. “You even came prepared.”

“Never know who you might run into at a— ooh, f-fuck. Mm, you’re so good at that.”

Mihawk smirked while his fingers tore so many noises from this gorgeous man, adding and stretching while he taunted him.

“I’ve never fucked someone I planned to kill the next day,” he threatened. That tiny smirk on the redhead’s lips was a challenge, and he needed to make this smug, little pirate beg.

Gods, he’s so pretty. He—

Shanks’ eyes rolled back, whatever he’d planned to say disappearing when the swordsman pierced him. Rough, angry, owning. Exactly what he needed.

“Hawk Eye— Hawk. Fuuck, you feel so fucking good, baby.”

“This it, huh,” he snarled, shoving Shanks’ thigh toward him with one hand, and grabbing that whining throat with the other. “Are you a little toy made just for me? Following me around until I sink my blade in you?”

Oh, those golden eyes. Shanks could have died right then, letting this man have him, but he didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want him to leave. 

And he just couldn’t help himself.

Mihawk had never made that sound before. He had his prey beneath him, flushed and desperate, those soft, brown eyes almost broken. 

Then there was pain.

He didn’t know what was happening until he saw that fucking smirk, but it was too late.

Shanks had found that little wound on his back, and dug his nails in. 

He looked so fucking smug before he followed his lover, arching his back while he came across his chest and stomach. It didn’t stop him from making Mihawk twitch and moan with sharp pleasure from the pain he kept twisting into his skin. 

They both whimpered and gasped while Mihawk kept fucking his come even deeper. Shanks’ nails in his skin were the strings of a marionette, controlling him, owning him.

It felt unreal.

The Warlord wanted to be angry, wanted to punish the grinning lover he still pierced, but he couldn’t think. 

Just a little while. A little while longer without thinking, until the enemies were taunting and teasing again, another round of showers to clean a different kind of mess away.

It felt…

It wasn’t safe.

“Where ya going, loser?”

Shanks’ high dropped fast, almost as fast as Mihawk climbed back into his fancy clothes. 

He didn’t want it to end.

“Sleep well, rookie. Tomorrow’s your last day.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~⏰🗡️🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

“Can’t sleep without me, clown?”

“No, shithead,” Buggy sneered, and Crocodile’s deep laughter poured through the transponder snail until Mihawk felt an almost smile touch his lips. “You’re an agent now, and we’d like an update.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” he teased, though he felt heavier with every breath. “This very late night update is that I’m floating on the sea.”

“Where did you end up heading first,” Crocodile interrupted Buggy’s grumbles, and his lovely voice sent guilt coursing through Mihawk’s veins.

“With these conditions, I should make it to Majiatsuka by this time tomorrow.”

“That’s the, uh,” Buggy groaned in thought, with the sound of rustling paper accompanying his noises. 

“That’s one of the island kingdoms around Dress Rosa, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Buggy answered Crocodile’s question, while Mihawk stared into nothing. “It’s right here, but that’s– You’re not gonna check out Whole Cake first? And Germa’s creepy boats are parked to the east. Which suitor lives–”

“Mihawk.”

He couldn’t speak.

“What’s wrong,” Buggy asked, quiet after Crocodile’s rage. 

Until he found his own. 

“Are you fucking STUPID? We don’t have a plan! I can’t believe you, you BATSHIT CRAZY fucking asshole. I’m gonna–”

“Explain,” Crocodile ordered, that dangerous purr ending Buggy’s rant. “Why are you going to the estate?”

“I’m going near the estate,” the swordsman cleared his throat, grateful that there was just enough room on his boat to pace. “I’m sorry I wasn’t truthful, but I didn’t quite lie. I’ll still try to gather intel to thin the crowd, bloodlessly if possible.”

“You do realize the sheer amount of manpower between you, right? The fucking surveillance?” Crocodile’s voice was edged with that dangerous disappointment, that waiting rage. “Hells, he probably already knows where you are with how much the Marines–”

“I can’t take it! I can’t take another fucking second of this!”

Nothing but the wind in the sails. 

Nothing but his ragged breathing, and his heart that was too fucking loud.

“Mihawk,” Buggy asked softly. True softness for the man that had tortured him, tormented him, taken and used his lover like a fucking whore. Mihawk couldn’t understand the forgiveness he’d been given.

He didn’t need it anymore.

“I’ll try, I will, I swear,” the swordsman vowed, not sure if he was telling the truth. “But I need her!”

“Little prince–”

“I don’t want to force her. I don't ever want to force her again. I want to respect her wishes, and wait until we know what she needs, what she wants… but I don’t want that. Not really.”

Mihawk gave a hateful laugh, nearly choking on his self loathing, but his rage would stop spilling out.

“I want to go in there, and grab her, and slaughter everyone on that island! I want to kill everyone that’s ever fucking looked at her! I want–”

“Hey, crybaby, you think I don’t fucking want that,” Buggy fumed, death in his voice.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” Mihawk slumped, not knowing when the tears began. “You deserve her. I’ll try not to go in there unless there’s no other way, but I need to be close.”

“What are you talking about,” Crocodile breathed. 

There wasn’t enough room on this boat to have these emotions, and Mihawk had to clench his fists to keep from tearing it to pieces.

“I need her, but I’d rather she hate me than… I’ll be the monster, so you don’t have to. I think I can live with her hate if I know she’s with you. With someone she loves.”

Nothing but the waves. 

“The security is still fucking vicious,” Crocodile rasped, anger draining from his voice. “And with the suitors’ people, and Sylvad’s pet Marines… That’s a lot of armies to fight.”

“I’ll be fine, and she already hates Shanks, so he can do whatever he has to,” Mihawk sighed as visions of violence soothed him. “The two of us should be able to tear the place asunder. The Cross Guild will need to relocate if it comes to that though. Probably disband, and go into hiding. You can take her somewhere. You can take care of her.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not doing this! She wouldn’t want—“

“Buggy, I’ll try to wait,” Mihawk pleaded, surprised that he still wanted permission. “Please, let me be the last resort. Call me if something happens, and I’ll bring her back to you. I’ll be the monster. Let me… please.”

The swordsman could hear his silent clown, those desperate breaths echoing through the night air.

That silence dragged on too long, and he couldn’t get her broken laughter out of his mind. Her uncle’s threats that Buggy had scrawled and crumpled in his rage and despair. The wound she had dealt him when she left. How perfectly cold her eyes had been. 

Until she wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

“I think she was telling the truth,” Buggy whispered, hardly breaking the silence. “She wanted to go, even though... I don’t think she’ll forgive you.” 

“I know. She shouldn’t.”

“Are you trying to be selfish, or selfless, little prince? Because either way, you’re fucking doing it wrong.”

The swordsman let out his own broken laughter, ducking into the small cabin to find a bottle of red. 

“Listen to me, bright eyes,” his business partner urged. “If you need to be out there, then do it, but don’t do this.”

“Don’t drink and sail,” Mihawk asked, popping the cork to pour the fine wine down his throat. 

He didn’t want to taste it. To observe the colors. He didn't want to notice the hint of plums, or the lack of his little bloodhound that he had wanted to taste the world with. 

“No, don’t be a fucking idiot,” Crocodile sighed. “Don’t act like you’ve already lost her. You don’t know what you’ll be able to do yet, or how she’s gonna feel. Our sweet girl is fierce.”

“Of course she is,” Buggy agreed, a steady faith in his voice that Mihawk envied. 

He had changed too late.

“Don’t throw your heart away because you don’t think you deserve it.” 

His scarred lover had touched the truth too close, as though the grief in those words wasn’t just for him. 

“You’re not gonna find a way if you think you’ve already lost, so if you’re gonna do this, then quit fucking around. Find out what our girl wants. Get her back. Convince her to stay.”

“But—“

“And you’re gonna work with us,” Buggy cut in, sounding brighter, his rage shifted back to annoyance. “We’re getting my star back, and I’m not gonna let you take all the credit, asshole.”

The World’s Greatest Swordsman was drifting alone on his one-man boat again. 

Not so alone. 

“You’ll call me if…”

“If we need a monster, you’ll be the first one I’ll call,” his clown promised, bringing a wave of sick relief at the thought. “But this whole sacrificing yourself for our happiness shit is fucking lame. Can you try not to be so dramatic?”

Silence. Nothing but the water. 

Nothing until the laughter started. Warm, deep laughter at their tearful swordsman, and their dramatic clown that joined in with a snort before they all forgot what they were laughing about. 

“I’m sorry I lied, daddy,” Mihawk breathed, suddenly cold at the thought of sleeping. 

“You’ll get your punishment. Just fly back home, little bird.”

“And stop being such a dumbass, please,” Buggy groaned, sounding squished as though a massive arm had curled around him. 

“No promises,” Mihawk laughed, “but I will try… Thank you.”

The Cross Guild said their slow goodnights, leaving the swordsman on that quiet sea.

He drifted alone on his one-man boat, but this time he floated between his distant lovers, knowing that he had always been right. Love isn’t safe. 

Fuck being safe. 

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

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

Author's Note: So I went a little wild here. Writing Mishanks' backstory felt like utter self indulgence, so I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! I love all of our fucked up boys so very much 😭 Who's ready to make some sweets with Katakuri though? 🍩😏

Fic Updates & Extras:

Special thanks to the commenter who referred to Shanks' pants as "grandma couch patterned" a few months ago, it has lived in my brain rent free. I can't find the comment on tumblr or Ao3, but you have my eternal gratitude for making me snort every time I see him and his stupid fucking pants now 😅🙏🏼

I've included a timeline below with OP Canon and Numbers Game events in case y'all would like to see where all the flashbacks line up. I left out any events that gave away the Reader's age for those that don't want to see that, but I'll make a separate post with more details for those that do.

You have no idea how much I reduced this timeline, lol. My actual timeline is full of a ton of canon details since I plan to reuse it for other fics, and I of course left out the Numbers Game spoilers. I only brought this version up to six years before the current time because I'm still cleaning up the rest of my notes, but I'm happy to share more later if you're interested.

I apologize that I don't have the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!

The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼

I'm basing the Numbers Game geography off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is absolutely stunning, holy wowzers! 😍

Do you know how little fucking time it takes to get between most of these islands? I thought my timeline was going too fast, but Oda really just had them speedrun their adventure while we take 25+ years to watch it. I love him so much 😅💜

Numbers Game Abbreviated Timeline ~ 6-52ish years ago:

I made this timeline using Miro if you're interested. It's got a free or paid version, and it's been helping me so much. (I completely ignore the AI (🤢) and collaborative features, but the mindmapping and such is just so good!) Writing this long of a fic with so much to keep track of was wild in my messy, poorly titled google docs list 😅

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

Part 34

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.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[escapetothelake]

Mr Crow & Mr Owl for the ship asks ;)

when i say this is one of my absolute FAVORITE dynamics (remember when i said it would be toxic? i made it way too sweet oops)

i'm gonna tag @callmegaith for this one as well because ik they are also an evil bird husbands truther >:)

btw sorry this took so long i'm on vacation and have spotty internet :,)

who made the first move: i think mr. owl likely first contacted mr. crow. we know that they were working together since at least the events of roots, so it's been a very long time.

who kissed who first: aldous started by kissing jakob's ring, and then graduated to his bare hand (it's about the homoerotic tension 🤌). eventually, jakob kissed aldous on the lips. aldous was all too happy to kiss back.

who started the relationship: mr. owl did, as mr. crow is technically his underling, and aldous is a man who is concerned with propriety.

who remembers things: both of them remember EVERYTHING.

nicknames for each other: jakob strikes me as a "my love" user. i think they both say it, actually. i don't think "darling", "dear", or "dearest" is out of the question. also "beloved", "precious", "my treasure", "lover", and "dumpling" cuz these bitches are OLD.

who is more likely to pay for dinner: i feel like they'd be the kind of couple to fight over the bill, calling it "my treat".

*they're eating out together and the bill arrives* "ah. let me get this one, darling." "no, you got it last time. it's my treat." "no, it's my treat. you know how i love to spoil you." "alright dear, but next time..." "hah! we'll see."

that said, usually jakob is more persistent.

who normally cooks: have i ever actually answered this question with "x person in the couple does it"? yeah, mr. owl runs a hotel, and he has mr. toad to cook for him. though jakob knows how to cook, considering that he was on his own for a while and we saw it happen onscreen and everyone else at paradise is incompetent. i'm sure aldous knows how to as well. i think aldous likes to cook for jakob, and he makes an art out of it, incorporating expensive wines and fancy herbs and the like. only the best for his beloved.

who remembers anniversaries: both, of course. they have minds like steel traps when it comes to each other.

what would they get each other for gifts: suits, expensive jewelry and pocket watches, taking each other out to eat, all kinds of stuff! i imagine they're the kind of couple to share a glass of wine to a job well done after they successfully harvest souls.

most trivial thing they fight over: i wouldn't call it trivial, but i think jakob was at least a little upset with aldous for fucking up that one time. i think that incompetence of any sort exhausts jakob after his experiences at home (like this post haha). not that he views aldous as incompetent in any way—after all, he chose him to be his right hand—but, i mean, he goofed in a pretty big way. regardless, jakob can't stay mad at aldous for long.

how often do they fight: they don't really fight much. i think aldous finds shouting disrespectful, and they mostly work in tandem, so it doesn't happen often. when it does, though, i feel like it's a big deal. i mean, a long time without speaking and a lot of pining, because both men can be stubborn. eventually, though, they can't stand to be apart.

who uses all the hot water: both.. together :)

who calls up the super/landlord when the heat’s not working: aldous. he doesn't want jakob to have to deal with that shit

who leaves their stuff around: they're both rather organized. mr. crow meticulously folds his clothes after washing them, even though it takes forever, and both men keep their suits nice and pressed.

who remembers to buy the milk: aldous gets it! he never lets jakob want for anything—the fridge is always stocked before jakob even has to ask.

who controls the netflix queue: i think they watch netflix together, cuddled up in bed or on the couch. aldous asks a million questions. jakob always answers, even if that answer is "i know the same amount of information as you, dearest".

who steals the covers at night: no one really can, since they sleep tangled together.

who cusses more: jakob when he was younger. now? neither, really.

who does most of the cleaning: aldous, or he sees that someone else does it. he doesn't like to let jakob worry about such things.

what’s their favorite non-sexual activity: talking! they really, really enjoy each others' company, whether that's over a glass of wine surrounded by candlelight, in the bath, or in bed. both of these men have had very long lives, so they have much to talk about.

who’s the cuddler: both! birds are cuddly :>

source

who’s the big spoon/little spoon: usually it's jakob big/aldous little. aldous likes to rest his head on jakob's chest (i hc that jakob is taller).

who’s more dominant: mr. owl.

who is the dirty talker: their brand of "dirty talking" imo is more like pillow talk. idk they're just pretty affectionate and like to praise each other. however, i'm gonna lean aldous for this one. i think aldous absolutely WORSHIPS jakob, and he makes it known both in and out of the bedroom.

what do they do when they’re away from each other: miss each other. a lot. both are mutually reliant on each other—aldous makes sure to make jakob's life easier, and jakob in turn gives aldous a sense of direction. therefore, their separation can be hard on both of them. they try to busy themselves with other things (there's a lot of work to be done), and remind themselves that ultimately, they serve the lake.

what would they do if the other one was hurt: both would be very worried, but the injured one would try to put on a brave face for the other. of course, both of them are seemingly immortal, but they also know what it's like to be mortal men, and the memories are all too fresh. they're very protective of each other.

a headcanon: i think that they both struggle to adapt with the times, even if they feel that they need to. for instance, they don't like to give up their old-timey pet names for each other, and mr. crow doesn't like the new-age suits. of course, he grins and bears it because it's part of being immortal, but he still believes that it doesn't matter because.. i mean.. they can turn into birds. being inconspicuous isn't exactly important to him. on the other hand, jakob kinda likes playing different roles to suit his needs. we see this in the white door, for instance. i think it allows him to live out some of the things he missed out on in his youth, whereas aldous got to live out a full life. regardless, as the times change, the biggest constant they have is each other.

[midgardian-witch]

snuggle with robbie<3

It took me a bit (I think I posted that perticular prompt list almost a month ago 😅) but i finally finished your drabble, anon 💙

I hope you like it. I did handwave the 'purposefully' part of the prompt a little - I hope that's ok.

A Lack Of Patience

tags: established relationship | Dom!Reader | sub!Robbie | dry humping | coming in pants | gn!reader

ships: Robbie Paulson/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

[SNUGGLE] Person A purposefully starts grinding against Person B while they’re snuggling.

With the sun setting outside, the last rays of sunshine peek into the bedroom. Freshly showered and cozy, you're lying next to your boyfriend. You had returned from work later than you had planned and while exhausted from the day you were not tired enough to fall asleep just yet. 

"I missed you," Robbie sighs against your neck as his arms pull you even closer into his embrace. The bed is big enough for the two of you and yet you're cuddled so close, your back to his front, as if you only had a twin size to share. 

"I've only been gone for a few hours," you murmur, a giddy smile on your face. Robbie always got so very clingy when you were gone for even the smallest amount of time and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the attention. 

"'s too long."

He's too cute. You can't help but laugh quietly at him. "Well, I'm back now. You have me all to yourself again, baby," you tell him, your hand resting on his as you snuggle further into his arms. You shift into a more comfortable position and as you wiggle against him he gasps. Before you can ask if he's alright you feel Robbie move against you, the familiar weight of his cock rutting against your behind. 

Robbie catches himself and stills his movements with an embarrassed whine. 

"S-Sorry. I didn't mean to. I just-" 

Before he can continue further you rub your ass against his clothed erection making Robbie gasp. With a wicked grin on your face you coo: "Missed me that much, hm? My poor baby."

Embarrassed by his own eagerness Robbie buries his face in the crook of your neck, whimpering at how good you make him feel. "So much. Missed you so much. Please, can I-" He doesn't need to put into words what he wants, his body already doing all the talking. His hips move on their own volition, grinding against you from behind, seeking that delicious friction. 

It’s a heady feeling being wanted, needed, craved like this. After your hard day at work you don’t have the energy for more than this: Robbie using any part of you he can reach in this position to get off. And yet you don’t feel used, not with the way Robbie is aching for it, broken moans filling your ears as he apologizes profusely for his neediness. It’s almost comical how he doesn’t seem to realize that this, his eagerness to have and please you, his blatant and unwavering attraction and desire for you, is what turns you on like nothing else. 

“Tell me how it feels, baby.”

His only answer is mindless babbling, broken off by gasps and hiccups. “Feels so good. I’m so sorry. You feel so good and I missed you so much,” he whines as he continues to grind against you from behind.

You feel his precum start to leak through his boxers as his movements become more erratic. Usually you would make him hold off his orgasm, keep him on that edge until he was really begging for it but you decide to have mercy on your poor boyfriend tonight.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well,” you praise him, his hips stuttering in response. 

“So close. I’m sorry- I can’t-”  

Sweet, darling Robbie. Even lost in his own pleasure he still doesn’t want to disappoint you by coming too early. Such a good boy. And what else can you do but spoil your babyboy rotten. At least for now.

“It’s alright. Come for me.”

You’re not sure if he actually waited for your permission or if it’s purely coincidental but as soon as the words leave your mouth you hear Robbie’s breath hitch and his cock twitch in the telltale signs of his approaching climax. You can feel his movements stutter as he spills his seed inside his boxers like an overeager teenager. He buries his face deeper inside the crook of your neck, desperately trying to muffle his whimpers. 

It takes a while for Robbie to come down from his high, all the while whispering endless thank yous into your skin and refusing to even part an inch from you, not even to change out of his completely soaked underwear. But you couldn’t really care less at that moment, too horny to sleep and yet too exhausted from your day to do anything about it. So as you return to simply cuddling with Robbie you plan on how to teach your babyboy some patience in the morning.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Meet the Writer Tag!

(Thank you so much to @mysticstarlightduck for tagging me! Sorry I took so long lol)

This is me!

(I don't normally wear this many accessories/jewellery lol. But I wish I did! I love it sm)

Three Fun Facts About Me:

I have never been in a relationship before. Ever. The only experience I have in that department is through other people's stories, not really my own. And by that, I mean that I'm used to watching my friends/people around me getting in and out of relationships, and listening to songs about romance and love and heartbreak... but not really relating to them due to not having any of those experiences myself (but it's alright, tho. It'll happen when it happens! In the meantime, I always have my made-up ships from my writing lol).

My favourite book growing up was "Matilda" by Roald Dahl. I thought Matilda was such a cool girl growing up lol. And lowkey relatable in a lot of ways. No, I wasn't a child genius. But she kind of fits into the archetype that I always found comfort in due to being that kind of person myself. Smart/intellectually curious, bookworm, introverted/independent, genuinely kind and has a heart in spite of being seen as cold by others (another example of this is Huey from Boondocks. Been rewatching some episodes of that show recently and wow... forgot how crazy it was lol. It's good, tho).

Christmas is my favourite holiday! 🎅❄️🎄I do get why some people may dislike it, I guess (like, my younger sister isn't a fan, and she's explained why... I get it. The over-commercialisation of it takes a lot of the "specialness" out of it, you know? Distracts from the actual meaning behind it and all. Plus, it can suck if you're just feeling sad and lonely during a time of celebration for everyone else. Aside from that, technically Easter is more significant if you look at it from the lens of which Christian holiday is most important). But I love the joyfulness and festiveness. Makes me feel all jolly and cosy inside. Plus, I love singing Christmas carols. And presents. And Christmas movies. I just love Christmas lol.

Favorite season:

Autumn. Or fall, as some others prefer to call it. That's when my birthday is!!

(Second place is summer because that's holiday season. Plus, that's when my sister's birthday is.)

Continent where I live:

I live in the UK, so Europe.

How I spend my (free) time:

Writing (duh)

Writeblr stuff (tag games, making OC playlists, answering questions, communicating with followers and having discussions with them about writing, etc)

YouTube (mainly watching videos... but I do want to start making videos myself at some point. Stay tuned for that, I guess)

Studying/school assignments (I'm in university)

Listening to music

Singing

Watching movies/TV shows

Reading

Eating lol

Are you published?

No. It'd be cool to be, though. Pretty sure I've mentioned this at least once before, but I want to self-publish the Stephanie Smith saga once I'm done with it.

Introvert or extrovert?

Introvert. 100% introvert lol. I feel most comfortable within myself when I'm by myself. As a kid, I was so painfully shy that the thought of going up to someone and asking a simple question would terrify me lol. As I got older, though, I was super duper lonely, and I realised that I had no real friends because I was keeping myself all closed off in a tight shell, so I'd literally force myself to open up and become more social and make friends with other kids. I practised it, like how you do with any skill. Now it's not so bad. I'd say I can carry a conversation with someone fairly well, even if I don't know them so well.

Favorite meal:

Ooooh.... this is hard. I love most foods lol.

I think I'll go with something a little bit more traditional. I'm Kenyan, and one of my favourite meals that I've grown up eating is chapatti and stew (any kind of stew, or soup. But my mum would usually make this stew with kidney beans. That was a big hit growing up). Haven't had it in almost a year, tho.

Aside from that, I love pizza. And Nandos.

Tagging: @clairelsonao3, @exquisitecrow, @mister-writes, @winterandwords, @mjparkerwriting, @e-everlasting-g, @erieautumnskies, @annethewittywriter, @writingwithfolklore, @ashwithapen

[orangeflavoryawp]

20 questions for fic writers

Ohhhh, haven't done one of these in a while. Thanks for the tag @esther-dot <3

How many works do you have on Ao3?

On Ao3? 91 But add to that, older fics on ffnet and other independent sites (oh Rolo Realm, my beloved), I think it's 102.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

1,020,258

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Naruto, X-Men, Star Trek, Record of Lodoss War, Sailor Moon, Harry Potter and several unpublished ones

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Almost all Jonsa, lol. - From Instep to Heel - A Violence Done Most Kindly - Wool and Tallow - Shepard Sees the Sky - Hallowed

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always, but it takes me time. I used to be very secluded, still am sometimes, and it took me effort to reply to comments and build relationships and community. I don't want to lose that. It's also important to me that readers understand how meaningful even a single comment is. So yeah, every comment, I try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Alright, so there's a lot of contenders for this one. I'm not even gonna try to list them off.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably either Interlocking or What Grows in Winter? I don't write a lot of 'happy' endings, I would say. Mostly I write endings that have either hope or closure, and that can come in a multitude of emotions, but those two fics are probably the most light-hearted of my works so I'm going with that.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sure, but honestly, not nearly as much as I expected. I've never really gotten someone trying to get into an argument with me. It's really just those one-line trolls that mass comment on a fic out of nowhere with stuff like 'Die parasite' or whatever.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I can actually say that now, lol. It's semi-recent for me, I guess. Considering how long I've been writing, at least. At the moment it's just het smut, but who knows what the future will bring!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope. Dislike crossovers, actually.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Several, actually.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I don't plan to. Don't think it would work well.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

I honestly can't answer this. Like... honestly. But the two couples I've spent the most time actively writing for would be Jon/Sansa (Game of Thrones/ASOIAF) and Storm/Wolverine.(X-Men), so there's that.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

It'd be between Rocks and Shoals and Sheparding Men, but I'm more hopeful that I'd return to Rocks and Shoals. Both are Mass Effect fic.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterization and emotive language.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Setting and exposition, for sure. Also, paring down a scene, lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've thrown in a commonly known phrase or two, but I don't like it being used regularly. There's too much variance on how to show translation in fic, and I find it often breaks the pace of the piece trying to do so, anyway.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh geez, thinking back, probably Xena? Though that was unpublished. First published fandom would be X-Men.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Damn, that's hard. But I'm probably going to have to go with Reckoned from One Midnight to the Next for the way it changed my writing style going forward. Perhaps the most formative of my pieces. Close runner up would be A Violence Done Most Kindly though, since it's also pretty formative for me in how I tackle plot now, and I'm really proud of the intricacies in that one.

This was pretty fun! Tagging for those interested @theoriginalsuki @jonsaslove @amymel86 @barbex @hawkeykirsah @vorchagirl @razerathane @tlcinbflo @foofyschmoofer @goddesstiera @joufancyhuh @sailorshadzter

[kaeyapilled]

Hey! :D I saw your post regarding Kaveh and Alhaitham fics so I was wondering if you have any recommendations. Correct me if I'm wrong, I think you said they're better as a yuri couple? I haven't read any wlw portrayals of them yet and I'm curious. No tags are too wild. Thank you and have a nice day! <3

hello! yes i do have a few kavetham fanfic recs!! however i am so sorry to disappoint you anon but i dont have any fem kavetham recs. i dont think ive read a wlw portrayal of them either. my apologies. the yuri couple thing was more of a joke since I was complaining about the way some people write them in this overdramatic 2000s yaoi manga way that im not super fond of and that happens w a lot of other mlm ships too. do you get me. when they make one of them (usually alhaitham) into the Dominant Masculine Man who's the knight in shining armor while kaveh is, for lack of better term, the assigned submissive and breedable one. and the entire thing is so unserious but the author isnt joking at all. and so i was using yuri as like the antithesis of that. Yeah. i AM interested in actual yuri kavetham now though so you have kind of enlightened me here.

anyways i hope my regular kavetham fic recs are good enough </3

a comedy of errors by strawberryblimp:

“My dad’s always in a hurry to head home to see my mom. They’re a cute couple like that. Kind of embarrassing at times, though…” His intern makes a face. “Anyways, I’m sure it must be like that with you and your wife too. Alright, see you tomorrow Scribe Alhaitham! Or…the day after? Next week?”

"...my wife?"

Or, Alhaitham hopes to have an uneventful day of work, followed by a peaceful dinner with his roommate. Of course, nothing goes according to plan.

this one is just haikaveh romcom. it's short and sweet and SO funny it was such a delight to read!!

...and they were roommates by warsena:

Kaveh is looking for his keys. Al Haitham is a brat. And Nahida? Well, Nahida knows her things. In words of General Mahamatra: being roommates always meant somehing more interesting.

this one is also a short delight!! it's from nahida's pov and it's so funny to look at their relationship from the eyes of an outsider

The Romanticism of Coffee-Making by sonotfine:

Alhaitham, Kaveh, the drinks Kaveh made them every morning, and Alhaitham's very deep but totally normal feelings about this domestic privilege.

Love without a name, visible only in similes and metaphors, tangible and all-consuming in the ways they orbited each other. Action for action, thought for thought.

alhaitham pining for around 3k words. so sweet. the yearning is palpable. i really like the characterization for both of them

Briars and Roses 'Round Your Heart by sonotfine:

Two fools, the impasse, and the disease that punishes the unspoken thing between them. Love is as cruel as you choose to make it for yourself. Fortunately, it takes two to love, in this case.

i hope you like the hanahaki disease trope!! kaveh has it in this fic and it's one of my favorite renditions of it ever was SO good. i loved how it developed and how it was concluded. this author is really good at writing kaveh and alhaitham

sunbird by caniculeo:

This is how Kaveh grows up—well-loved and loving, with a pencil in his hand and starlight in his eyes. This is how he grows up, until his father leaves for the desert one day, and never comes back.

kaveh, through the years.

okay this one isn't exactly a kavetham rec, more like a kaveh one. but there is kavetham!! plenty of it!! i just wanted to sneak this one into the list because it's my favorite kaveh character study, like, ever. trust me it's so good

i hope these are to your liking anon! sorry again for the lack of yuri haikaveh. i have failed you

[mythical-illustrator]

I am swooping in to ship Grace and Waxer, I can't explain - I just have a feeling.

Thots? 👀

Grace and Waxer.... 🤔

Grace (half twi'lek night sister turned Jedi healer) and Waxer( clone trooper of the 212)

Okay - so Grace would meet the Ghost crew when she would be assigned to the 212 for a temporary medical relief - mostly for Kenobi because he keeps getting kidnapped by scientists and has an aversion to medical.

She spends a lot of time training with Kenobi, sipping tea.

They learn she has a similar style of tactics as kenobi - using words and negotiations before violence.

Depends on when they meet up- but if she over hears waxer or Boil(cuz they're inseparable) call her a tail head - she's gonna have words with him and it won't be pretty.

But waxer would start talking about the little twi'lek girl he and his brother Boil adopted (adopted by more likely. He definitely Mando adopted her, that's his kid now) on Ryloth and it makes Grace smile.

She has a soft spot for children.

So they talk about her and how he exchanges letters with her and is trying to learn their language from kenobi (she has to break it to him she's from dothmir and doesn't know the twi'lek language)

She gives him pointers on little girls- head tail growth, etc and reveals she worked in the creche in the temple before the war.

She starts giving him and boils subtle tips on how to prank kenobi when the mood strikes them.

Eventually they move away from talking about kids and cadets and talking about other things. Planets they've been to, cultures they'd love to see again and study. Brothers.

I think Waxer would make the first move towards a relationship but try to be subtle about it.

Hey I found this cool planet/rock/object in this planet and thought of you. I checked it isn't dangerous.

Grace just now has a collection of strange odds and ends from him and she cherishes every single one.

Boil rolls his eyes a lot but will be his brother's wing man for the Jedi.

"its doomed brother of mine, you clone, she Jedi! Alright she can fight good and is really pretty, no it's fine I'll help. If Skywalker can make this work you can't fudge it up to bad."

Boil starts looking up how to woo a Jedi. Cody starts side-eyeing him in confusion. He has to awkwardly explain.

He gives up and tells waxer to keep giving her shiny rocks.

Waxer makes the mistake of telling Numa- and then sending her a picture and now Numa- is also trying to be a wing man and demanding to meet her.

I'm not sure how but definitely Grace gets permission to take waxer, and boil to Ryloth to visit Numa- and Numa- and waxer full sail parent trap these two.

Something something, she demand Grace stay with them for the visit. Then cuddles with her (waxer is already smitten and now this woman is cuddling his baby, he's done , ship him home ) and then she stows away on the ship.

Anyway, she draws them kissing and gives it to them just before she leaves and Grace blushes so hard her skin changes and then waxer smooth af

"well if the kids wants it" then just WW2 shoulder dip kiss her right there in the tarmac.

Numa- and boil high five.

Hope that tickled your fancy. Thanks for the ask.

This came out so much softer than I thought it would. 💜

Tag list

@anxiouspineapple99 @dangraccoon @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @secondaryrealm

[shadow-pixelle]

special challenge- each of these needs to be answered with a different fic

🌀

🌤

🌩

🌪

☔

Ooooohkay! Big ask. Let's see if I can do your little extra challenge too while I'm at it, I've probably got enough stuff.

Under a read more, because oh dear god this got long so quickly.

So for the portal; I'll go with 'something I haven't written yet', rather than haven't posted, because when it comes down to it I have no idea if I'll write something, but anything I've not posted I'll post eventually, so yeah.

The fic is called Run (Yourself) To Death, it's a Danny PhantomxDC crossover, it was one of the first things I came up with for this fandom, and is a solid 90% the fault of Clockwayswrite's A Broken Sort of Normal because that's what introduced me to the 'quick death' ship and I found it very very cute. Idea was that Wally West doesn't end up dead after the big twister thing from Young Justice (I don't remember enough about that show to give more details) and instead sort of... falls sideways, I guess? Into a natural portal to the Infinite Realms riiiiiight as he also fades into the Speedforce and kinda ends up in this very fucked up state of not-quite-Halfa but not dead but not alive either, no connection to the Speedforce, and a developing Ghost Core. The entire story would be focused on Danny finding him and trying to help him get back to his reality, which is really really hard, and takes several years, ending with them in a relationship and also Wally as a super liminal/basically a Halfa by the time they figure it out.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm calling it Run Yourself To Death, or just Run To Death, which is why the 'yourself' is in brackets.

Sunny cloud!; favourite piece of dialogue... ok, I've got a few WIPs ongoing at the moment. Normally I'd go with the one closest to being posted, buuuuuut that fic has no dialogue. So I'll go for the next one on that list, which is Strange Aeons, the Tumblr fic.

(I spent a solid like, half an hour looking through my various WIPs trying to choose a line, because I couldn't for the life of me decide on one that I liked enough.)

“Wait, so if you’re not- related, or whatever, to the Lazarus Pit, then what are you?”

I mostly like this one because of the cliffhanger-ness of it. It's not the last line of that segment, but it's pretty close to it.

For the thundercloud; something funny/cracky from your WIP. This is hilarious, because my WIP 1 isn't really funny- or well, it is, but more in the context of irony, and WIP 2 is. Uh. Not there yet. WIP 3 and WIP 4 both have some alright ones, so I'll take this one from Parhelion, because why not.

That scent was incredibly familiar. "Did you traffic me to yourself?" He asked, incredulity too strong for nervousness. "You haven't been trafficked." Wayne replied automatically, before stilling. "Excuse me?"

Tornado! Or as it appeared on my screen, cloud with a ghost tail. Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/AO3 tags. Uuuh ok. Let's use Ornithology for this one, because it's currently my main WIP. I'd sum this one up with Found Family, Cryptid Batfam, Gotham City Is Weird, Gotham City Rolls With Everything, and Wingfic as my main ones. I love this fic so much. It's nearly complete, too, which is a yay.

And finally, umbrella rain. Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it... hmm. Ok this is a fun one for me, because usually if I have a fic concept, I intend to write it, no matter what? But I've definitely got something somewhere that's so old that I probably won't end up writing it just because I've got so much else to write...

digs into the box of WIPs and ideas

Ok let's pull out two fun ones that I have in this old as fuck list- specifically ones that I actually remember what the fuck that note means (looking at you, 'guitar riff bad life decisions (also AA)' like what the fuck does that mean Past Pix. What the hell is that.)

So one of them is labelled as 'Tarre Kamino aka fuck the SW timeline'. I mostly remember this one because I started writing this, and it is in fact the reason I have a Word document with my own Star Wars timeline in it, because I got so sick of trying to figure it out via the wikis that I made some guesses and made my own. I didn't write more than maybe a scene of it because it was all driving me mad, and also I couldn't figure out where to go with things, but the idea was that the Force Ghost of Tarre Vizsla is on Kamino fucking around and finding out, and basically doing his best to keep the clones safe in the face of gestures at common fanon Kamino stuff and also like, the amount of rage he's got at Jango Fett and the other Mandos on planet. Cool idea, could not figure out where to go with it aside from probably having him interact with Shaak Ti at some point, but I had a solid 10 years to get through to get there and was lost.

The second one is 'Kamino is v angery (4546B)', man I love my naming system for things, and this one had No Plot Just Vibes. Fans of Subnautica may recognise that little number-letter combo at the end, the idea was literally that Kamino had once been the planet 4546B from Subnautica. The only real idea I had to go from there involved the Leviathans, specifically the Sea Emperor, but I had no idea what I wanted to do with it outside of that.

Maybe I'll come back to them sometime.

looks up wow this is a long post, huh. Damn. Hope you enjoyed hearing all these rambles, and ta very much for the ask! It was fun to go digging through things for quotes and stuff.

[cabbxges-and-kings]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍.

— BASICS! ♡

NAME: Everyone knows me as Bambi, but I'm also open to the name Eden. Bambi has just become my brand mun name lmao.

PRONOUNS:  She/her

ZODIAC SIGN: Scorpio sun, Taurus rising, Pisces moon

TAKEN OR SINGLE: Single.

— THREE FACTS! ♡

Almost always my hands are really cold that even I notice how cold my hands are, so if you ever wanted to hold my hand now you have a fair warning.

My birthday is Nov 14th

I've watched Turn for the first time in late 2019, made Lydia in 2020 because I wanted to see how her dynamics with the other characters would be, been in the tumblr rpc since 2018

— EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED: K.ik, w.attpad, a.mino, d.iscord.

PLOTTING / WINGING IT / MEMES:  Unless I already have an idea in mind, memes are the best way to start off something. I'm alright with plotting, but I'm not sure if I can offer much in ways of ideas unless I really know your muse. For dynamics, I love to develop them through plotting and see the growth from there, but I'm also open to winging things and seeing how things turn out.

— MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER: I write male and female, but I probably relate more to female just by my own experience. I think my female muses are also more complex than my male ones. Sadly, also, aversion to female muses is still a thing in the rpc.

MULTI OR SINGLE MUSE: I run both type of blogs. Single muse blogs are easier to manage, but I also like the variety with multi-muse. Especially if two multi blogs interact together, there's a lot more dynamics you can toy with than just two single muse blogs interacting.

LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S): I definitely have a few, but I don't see them all that often, so I don't feel like I need to state them outright.

— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡

FLUFF: Generally, yes, I love fluff. The only struggle with it that I'm usually not sure how to continue it since it tends to take up a thread of its own for that purpose: fluff writing. I still treasure the moment when a dynamic have been in the works and they finally reach that point in a slow burn. For Abe, specifically, fluff isn't so easy for him just with his general attitude and complicated relationships. I'm open to it, but it'll take some work in a dynamic (well depending on who it is and dynamic type)

ANGST: This is easier for Abe overall. Abe is probably one of my muses that can get into angst the easiest. For me, I enjoy angst, but depending on what it is, it might take me a bit to get to it. Really emotional writing can burn me out quickly and I have to be in the mood for it. So it honestly varies depending on the context. For some muses its easier than for others.

SMUT:  I'm open to it, but I prefer to engage in this on my other blog and with people I interact with regularly. Someone might say they are 18+, but I'm still wary about people lying about their ages. So I prefer to have a connection with the other mun. I also require chemistry for it and some muses are more inclined than others. I usually use smut as a way to explore characterization and characterization of a ship, so that's where chemistry comes in. For Abe, he might have a s.ex addiction, but that doesn't mean he will sleep with anyone. Even for a FWB scenario, he needs to know the other person. So I'm not into insta smut. With some of my muses, I'm more selective.

TAGGED: stole it

TAGGING: steal it from me

[violetsareblue-selfships]

Surprise!

Ship: Diluc x April | Word count: 1599 | Warnings/Tags: First Person POV, food mention, kissing, very sappy :3

A/N: Have this fluffy little thing for his birthday! (Technically it is not a birthday fic but it's pretty cute so it'll work~) I hope you all enjoy it and happy birthday, Diluc <3

"Thank you again for letting me use the kitchen." I say now that the cookies are properly baking. Sure, I could have baked them at home, but they would have cooled on the walk from Mondstadt, especially with how windy it's been today.

If I'm going to surprise Diluc, I want the cookies to be nice and warm for him.

Adelinde laughs softly, a warm smile on her face. "Of course, it was no trouble." Her expression turns a bit teasing and she says, "Besides, you have as much a right to it as I do. I doubt Master Diluc would like it if I tried to keep out his most beloved."

My face heats up at how she's referred to me, but it makes me smile anyway. She's been taking care of him for a long time, so for her to be teasing me this warmly, it clearly means she approves of our relationship.

Still, I laugh in response. "Maybe not. But again, it's approaching dinner, right? I wasn't sure I'd be getting in the way of that."

"It is close, yes, but you're not in the way at all, trust me." I nod, watching as she does start prepping for dinner while we speak. It's likely cutting it a lot closer than she wants to say aloud, but I'm grateful she's being nice about my sudden appearance.

I hum in response and something in that has her turning to smile at me. "Plus, it's always lovely to have you over for dinner. I'm sure the Master won't mind if dinner's a little later if you're going to be here." She says with a wink and I giggle softly, nodding my head.

"In fact, why don't you go to his office?" She suggests, laughing when I start trying to oppose her. "No, I insist. I'll handle everything and come get you when dinner's ready. I don't mind keeping an eye on the cookies for you as well."

I laugh as all the fight in me evaporates. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Adelinde." I say, giggling when she starts to shoo me out of the kitchen.

I follow the path to his office like it's second nature, knocking on the door just in case he doesn't want to be interrupted. "Hmm? Come in." He calls out and I smile, opening the door.

The angle the door's at gives me the perfect view to see his expression shift from a serious, somewhat curious expression to the smile that he gives me every time he sees me. It's enough to have me giggling. He really gets so excited to see me.

"Surprise!" I say and he chuckles, beckoning me into the room. I shut the door behind me and come over to his desk. He pushes back from the desk and stands up, pulling me into his arms in the next second.

His warmth washes over me and I let out a soft sigh, wrapping my arms around him in turn and burying my face into his chest. "I didn't know you'd be coming over today." He murmurs into my hair before kissing the top of my head softly.

I melt a little in his arms and look up at him with a grin. "It was a bit of an impromptu decision." I say and he chuckles.

"A welcome one, for sure." This time he kisses my forehead and it makes my heart flutter. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"Mhm. Adelinde insisted." I say with a giggle and he smiles at me.

"Good. Now, I'm afraid I do have to finish what I was working on, but I was planning to have a bit of a relaxed evening. I honestly don't know how you always have such good timing. I won't have to do anything after dinner." Diluc says, looking a bit apologetic that he has to work while I'm here and I laugh softly.

"It's fine, 'Luc. I can keep myself occupied while you finish up." I say and he nods. I feel a little cold when he removes his arms from around me and steps back, but I simply head over to the guest sofa and sit down.

I pull my lyre out of my satchel and start idly playing some instrumental songs we both like. When I glance over at him next, there's a small smile on his face while he works, making me smile as well. Good. It seems my occupying myself is also bringing enjoyment to him.

"And done." Diluc announces once he finishes and I watch as he stacks up the papers and puts them away. I play the song through until the end, setting my lyre back in my bag and smiling at him.

"So, does this mean I'll have your undivided attention tonight?" I ask, my tone more teasing than anything. He usually does give me attention whenever I come over, but if he was planning on relaxing tonight, that means he's likely out of obligations to worry about.

"Mhm, that's exactly what it means. Why? Have something you want to do?" He asks and I put my hand up to my chin, pretending to think it over for a moment.

"Hmm… Well, beyond getting to cuddle with and kiss my boyfriend?? Not really." I say and he chuckles. "Though, I wouldn't mind going on a walk with you."

"I think that can be arranged." He says with a warm smile.

I smile back and open my mouth to respond, but as I do, we hear Adelinde calling that dinner's ready.

"Well, shall we?" He asks and I nod. The smell of the cookies reaches us when he opens the door and I giggle when I see his eyes brighten. "She made cookies?" He asks, his voice soft and awed.

"…Not quite." I say and he looks at me confused. I simply smile at him and link arms with him, and we walk down to the dining area side-by-side.

"It smells delicious as usual, Adelinde." Diluc says. Adelinde smiles at him and we sit down to eat. Her cooking is always amazing and the atmosphere is amazing too. I've always loved eating here with them when I can.

After the main course, Adelinde smiles at me as she goes to fetch the cookies. "Thank you, Adelinde." Diluc says and she laughs softly.

"Mm, I'm not the one you should be thanking." She says with an amused smile.

Diluc looks at me quickly and I giggle at how surprised he is. "Wait, you made them?" He asks and I laugh softly.

"Yeah. I realized earlier that I had all the ingredients and thought up a little plan to surprise you. Thankfully Adelinde let me steal the kitchen for a bit."

"Well, they smell delicious." He says and I smile, letting him take one first. A bit of warmth rushes over me seeing him enjoy something I've made for him and it's then that I allow myself to enjoy one too.

Once we're finished with dessert, Adelinde returns to the kitchen to clean up. Meanwhile, Diluc looks at me and smiles softly, the look making my heart flutter. "How about that walk now, love?" He asks. "I'm afraid if we started cuddling first, I'd never want to leave the bed after."

My face heats up at how sweet that was and I feel a little like I'm melting. "Sounds good." I say and he nods, taking my hand and leading me outside.

----------

Somehow, I'm feeling even warmer and softer when we return. Something about walking with Diluc around the winery and surrounding areas on the cusp of twilight is perfect. Seeing the crystalflies that gather here makes the setting even more magical.

"Come on, love." Diluc murmurs once we enter the manor again, silently leading me up to his room. It's there that we both take off our boots and crawl into bed together.

A soft sigh leaves me as I'm hit with a warm, content feeling and I snuggle closer to him. His hand gently runs up and down my back and I melt against him, his warmth wrapping around me and leaving me perfectly comfortable.

Some time passes, long enough that I close my eyes and fully enjoy being this close to him, before I remember something. "Mm… I promised you kisses earlier, didn't I?" I muse, feeling a little sleepy from indulging in the cuddling.

"You did." Diluc sounds just as sleepy as I do and it makes me smile.

"I don't want to break my promise." I say, smiling wider as he chuckles. He pulls me to where I'm laying on top of him, waiting until I'm comfy again before cupping my face and bringing our lips together.

All coherent thought leaves my mind after that. All I can think about is how warm he is and how amazing this feels. And he's all mine.

How did I get so lucky?

When his tongue licks into my mouth, I go practically boneless in his arms, small shivers running down my spine as he runs his fingers through my hair.

"I love you so much." I murmur in between kisses, moaning softly as the next kiss is a little more passionate.

"As I love you." He replies, chuckling when my face goes red. It's not my fault when his voice sounds like that and he's pairing it with a loving expression!

"Less talking, more kissing." I say, making him chuckle again.

"As you wish."

He kisses me again and every part of me feels content and warm. This is so incredibly perfect.

[lucius-the-sinful]

9 ship songs

@omgkalyppso tagged me to post 9 songs for one or more ships! I think this will probably become multiple posts over my various blogs because I Have A Lot to Talk About. For my first post I'll start with my most recent brain worm: my OC Galethor and Astarion (full playlist appropiately titled killing and maiming). Songs aren't in any particular order other than what I listened too first when making this list, lol.

tagging any and all who wish to participate <3

9. On Melancoly Hill by Gorillaz

Are you here with me? Just looking out on the day Of another dream Well you can't get what you want But you can get me So let's set out to sea, love 'Cause you are my medicine When you're close to me

I'll try my best to avoid Astarion romance spoilers but both Galethor and Astarion being survivors of extreme abuse and after everything is over they are completely unsure of themselves... Other than they know they need each other.

8. Something Real by Post Malone

No cover fee At the gates of hell, no VIP Everybody waits in line So give me somethin' I can feel Light a cigerette just so I can breath Give me somethin', somethin' real

Act 2, Hug Scene. Thats really all you need to know.

7. Honey Whiskey by Nothing But Thieves

I think I better go before I try something I might regret I might regret But if you wanna free your body tonight Its our secret, its our secret

Act 1, Goblin Party. Galethor doesn't do well with large parties or with alcohol (both bring up traumatic memories). So when Astarion proposes getting away from it all, Galethor eagerly takes it.

6. Feeling Sorry for Us by Vegetables

Sad eyes in front of you And frozen arms around your neck If only there were something to find But I need my wounds cured So do you mind my staying here

Galethor feels pretty insecure in their relationship at times, he tends to disassociate. He thinks far to much about how messy things are. Astarion hasn't always been the best partner, but I think given their very similar trauma, Galethor could never confide in anyone else. No one else understands him like Astarion does.

5. Sing To Me by Missio

Its like all day my vanity is for sale Take it away, my head is in my own hell Sing to me, I am not doing well

Chose this one for similar reasons with the previous song.

4. The Valley of the Pagans by Gorillaz

Its so convincing, but something is missing The sun is kissing on my face and erasing my doubts I'm going out with a bang And the fangs of a parasite I'm feeling alright

Galethor is a bit of a sado-masochist and likes to be fed on, okay. Next.

3. Can You Feel My Heart by Bring Me The Horizon

I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone I long for that feeling to not feel at all The higher I get, the lower I'll sink I can't drown my demons they know how to swim

I think its fair to say that Galethor had just as much trouble opening up as Astarion did. Their relationship was extremely rocky in the beginning, but they never gave up on each other.

2. Trouble by Adam Jensen

Baby, you should look the other way Forget my name, 'cause I'm no good for you Is it living or dying that makes me afraid? Or is it that I know my soul can't be saved?

Not gonna lie, not sure if this is more about Astarion or Galethor. Their relationship is always teetering on the edge, where they know they cannot live without one another but that anything could tip them over the edge into catastrophic ruin.

1. Dead Inside by Younger Hunger

I'm all talk with a thorn in my side I got a real big heart that I'm willing to hide You ask me what I want from life I said to make a lot of money and feel dead inside

Charlatans. The both of them. Whenever Galethor tells lies and spreads misinformation I can see Astarion behind him, biggest heart eyes known to man. They can be a little toxic, as a treat.

[the-timeless-founder]

Ⓐ Here for my fav ship 🏃🏼‍♀️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Huehuehue ❤️ and also thanks for being here Lina, I really appreciate that 😭

Somewhat nsfw content below the cut (nothing explicit, but it's only fair to warn those who wish to avoid the content altogether). Additionally, suggestive content and explicit will be tagged as #nsfw-ish and #nsfw on this blog, so block those tags if you wish to avoid them!

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Mishiro: He's pretty nice to look at, with and without his veil on. I had no idea he had such a pretty face though. You can imagine my surprise when I saw it, haha~

Either way, it was a little embarrassing... That I was so, uh, I guess the word is awestruck just at the looks.

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

Mishiro: Truth be told, I find him somewhat annoying at times. But he's somehow always interesting at the same time. Besides, he's incredibly intelligent and well-informed, and he is kind of cool when he wards off people with a simple look of disdain~

I'll have him know that's not gonna work on me, though~

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Mishiro: Ahhh, well... This is embarrassing, but... I can't say I haven't considered it? Because I have... And I think it's a possibility depending on where our relationship is headed?

My God, I'm so awkward for no reason. Usually I have no trouble talking about such matters... Is it getting hotter in here?

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

Mishiro: It's... kind of strange, honestly. I am not sure whether we tolerate each other or... In a weird way, get along? I guess that lands us in sort of kind of friend territory? Haha, I'm honestly not sure.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Mishiro: I'm going to be honest, when I first saw him, he absolutely got on my nerves with his remarks. Condescending and even rude, I didn't think we would make it past the first hour...

But... The way he talked about his homeland and how devoted he is to his duties and home is... Admirable, at the least.

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Mishiro: I'm, again, not sure where this whole thing is headed... But I can say he still manages to be annoying every once in a while. At the same time, he's much more knowledgeable and dedicated than I first thought. And much smarter than I first thought...

Everything is so complicated about him, and it's kind of fun to see his reaction to certain things I do and say~ who knows? This might be even going somewhere more fun that now, haha!

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

Mishiro: We haven't touched lips just yet, but I do wonder how it will feel... Sometimes I linger on that thought a little too much-

Ahhh, I really need to stop talking now unless I want to embarass myself even more!

[clockworkspider]

I think Keito's devotion to Eichi is actually quite different from standard loyalty. It's different from the liege-subordinate or the god-devotee variation. The key here is that they mutually acknowledge each other as "scriptwriter" and "protagonist", hence, in a sense, Keito is Eichi's creator.

I mean, Eichi is very much his own person. Keito didn't make him up. But he did very much create a role for Eichi to play and distorted the world around them to make that a reality. That's what the whole war was for, and Keito was the scriptwriter for that.

Meanwhile, as much as Keito was invested in molding Eichi into the role of the protagonist, the hero, Eichi was also invested into maintaining his role (in contrast to Rei who rejected the role Keito gave him), because it's a role made for him. He also desperately wanted to be the protagonist. In Elements, Eichi monologues about playing his role in Keito's script to the very end. Their desire, in this case, is one and the same.

When Eichi said he swallowed up Keito's dreams in Quarrel Fes, Keito denied it, and said that his dream changed because he met someone more interesting than any manga protagonist. I don't think he's lying here. Eichi, in this sense, also made Keito who he is by becoming the protagonist to Keito's story, changing the narrative of Keito's life.

So like... Keito's devotion to Eichi is devotion to the story he created. That's why he equates Eichi's praise to narcissism in Concerto. He was devoted to Eichi because he made Eichi who he was. (It's Keito's fault and he needs to be held responsible.) Rather than king and subordinate, it's much more like how a creator is devoted to and defined by their work. Keito did all that because he wanted to create.

If you look beyond their scriptwriter/protagonist metaphor... Keito also had a lot of impact in Eichi's world view, showing Eichi that life shines the brightest close to death, transforming the fear of death into desperate lust for life. Before Eichi found salvation in Love, Keito was a driving force in keeping Eichi alive and hungry.

And like... the thing about Quarrel Fes is that it puts a period on that state of their relationship. Eichi became the character Keito had created for him and then grew beyond it. He dragged Keito into the story to be his rival not his creator. They're able to move forward beyond the role they defined for each other.

If I keep talking I'm gonna go in circles, but anyway this is why I think their feelings for each other is very much requited... They just had... a very particular view on their role to one another.

[harryhoney-bee]

I'm feeling really soft and fuzzy today, So if I can request something I want to do that abeja 🐝💓

#Concept: Nightly routine with y/n and Harry- parents of two little babies.

Tag me if you write this baby ✨✨

Adore you alot 💕

Night Routine

Warning: your ovaries might explode... mine did 🤚🏻 I would give this man 9 children if he asked.

Word count: 1.7k

I have a kofi, so please consider buying me coffee if you can <3

I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 😚

“But I want to take a beth with him, daddy,” Cecília whined to Harry, while he undressed her, putting her new pajamas and towel on the bathroom counter.

“My little darling, he is still little, he can’t take bath with you,” Harry explained, taking Cecí on his lap and putting her inside the warm tub, handing her some of her favorite toys. “Lorenzo is just 6 months, he’s not as big as you.”

Harry made a bowl with his hands, wetting her curly hair and applying shampoo, a pout still on her face. “Please, daddy?” she said, her chubby hand grabbing his arm. Cecí had already mastered her puppy eyes technique, and she knew how much her dad had a weak spot for her.

“Alright, alright,” He finally gave in, “but he will stay outside of the tub, he doesn’t know how to sit by himself.”

“Thank you, daddy!” The girl splashed water around in excitement, which made Harry smile. That’s how he always wanted to see her: happy and healthy.

Harry went to the door, keeping an eye on the girl in the tub. “Baby? Are you done nursing? Cecí wants to see Lorenzo,” he tried to call his wife as loud as he could while being mindful of Lorenzo, who could be asleep by now. He never wanted to alarm any of him or Cecília with his loud voice.

In a matter of seconds, Y/n appeared in the hallway, a confused expression on her face while Lorenzo was calmly laying down on her arms, his little hands resting on Y/n’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why does she want to see him? We just had diner together,” she asked, heading in Harry’s direction.

“I’m not sure, guess she just missed him,” Harry answered, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and bending down to talk to a very awake Lorenzo. “But who wouldn’t miss you, huh? Such a cutie, right buddy?” he was aware that using a baby voice wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t help, Lorenzo was just extremely adorable.

“Mommy! Enzo!” Cecília called, from the opposite side of the bathroom, “come here mommy, miss you too.”

Y/n sat on the bathroom floor, Lorenzo still with her. “Hey, my heart, having a good bath with daddy?” she asked at the same time Harry sat down by her side and hugged her from the side, laying his chin on her head.

“Yeah! Daddy always let me play,” Cecília took one of the yellow ducks and showed her mom, “This is Mc Duck.”

“Wow, he’s a very beautiful duck isn’t he?” She asked, giving Lorenzo to Harry while kneeling near the bathtub since Cecí still had to wash her hair, Y/n gently took the excess of shampoo from the girl’s hair, while Harry tried to keep Lorenzo entertained by singing him a silly song.

“He is, I love yellow,” the little girl admitted, “I think Lorenzo loves yellows too.”

“And why do you think that, Cecí?” Harry asked amused while pretending to eat the boy’s fingers.

“Because we’re are best friends,” She said as if the answer was obvious, “and friends like the same things.” Y/n and Harry looked at each other and laughed, for a five-year-old girl she knew a lot about relationships.

“Oh, how do you know that?” Y/n asked, finishing washing her hair, letting Cecília enjoy her time in the bath.

“Because you and daddy are best friends, you wear the same clothes sometimes, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies,” with every new topic she would count down on her fingers, it was quite a comical sight.

Harry’s chuckle filled the room, the baby on his lap giggled too. “Well, my little lady, you are right. But friends can also like different things, too,” he told her. “Me and mommy like a lot of similar things, but we also have our preferences.”

“Exactly, daddy loves bananas, but I don’t” y/n complemented, getting Cecília out of the tub, helping her into some warm clothes, “I don’t like to work out, but your dad always wakes up early to go for a run, see? We like different things but we still love each other.”

Harry got up from the floor, rocking Lorenzo softly, his heavy eyes indicating how sleepy the baby was. He took the combing cream in his hand and began combing Cecília’s curls with one hand, while his other arm held Lorenzo. Being a father of two made him very talented at doing two things at the same time. While he did that, Y/n was getting Cecí’s toothpaste ready.

“Daddy, do you love mommy even if she doesn’t go running with you?” Cecí asked, before opening her mouth so Y/n could brush her teeth. Normally they would let Cecília do it by herself, with their supervision, but it was already late and the couple desperately needed to get the children to bed, or else their routine would be messed up. Good thing Lorenzo seemed to be falling asleep already.

“Of course I do! We don’t love people just because they do the same things we do, we love people because they are kind and respectful to us, yeah?” Harry said, looking at Y/n and blowing her a kiss. This is what he loved the most about parenthood: watching the kids growing into their best version.

Parenting was made in many different ways, but the couple especially loved having these kinds of conversations. Even though Cecília was still young, she was already beginning to comprehend what love and friendships were, and Harry and Y/n had the privilege to teach her that.

Harry finished her hair, putting the brush and the products in their place under the sink while Y/n put on some socks on Cecí’s feet, the little girl was yawning, seeming tired. Lorenzo started to fussy on Harry’s arms.

“Guess it’s time to sleep, huh?” Harry said, caressing Cecílias head, “Tired, my baby? Want daddy to read a bedtime story to you? Or do you want mommy?” At the same time he mentioned Y/n, Lorenzo started to soft cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking down at the upset’s baby face.”

Y/n took his from Harry’s arms, cuddling him closer to her chest, “What do you want, Enzo? Mommy just fed you” she looked at her husband, “I’ll nurse him again on the bed, he’s probably just a bit agitated, will you put her to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The woman kissed Cecília on the forehead, “have a good night, ok, baby? Mommy will take you to the playground tomorrow, alright?”

“Ok mommy, I love you and little bro too,” she said, giving a hug to her mom before she disappeared through the door with the crying baby.

Harry took Cecília by her small hand, leading them to her room, just by the side of the main suite, where the couple slept. He guided the little girl to her bed, giving her all of her favorite stuffed animals, and covered Cecília in her Lilac duvet.

“What story do you want today?

“The pirate one, please,” she asked, laying her head on the pillow as Harry went to her bookshelf, picking the one with the title Pirate’s cove. He sat by the end of the bed and began telling the story.

“I have a story for you, a story of untold riches and a young lad who found them. And who am I, you ask? Well, I am the spirit of the sand-dollar, a pirate and a buccaneer, Captain of the seahorse, the finest ship to ever sail the seven seas…”

Harry would occasionally stop to answer any questions Cecília had, but after 15 minutes he was done with the book and the girl was fast asleep, hugging tight to her little lamb. He made sure she was tucked in and turned off the lights (besides the one on the side of Cecília’s bed, she was scared to sleep in a pitch-black room), he closed the door and headed to his bedroom.

To Harry’s surprise, Lorenzo was sleeping in his bassinet by the side of the mattress. He usually would sleep in his nursery, but today just seemed like an off day to the little boy. Harry got closer to him, stroking the chubby cheeks, “Oh my little bug, did mommy let you sleep here with us? You’re not feeling fine?”

“I think he’s teething,” Y/n said in a raspy voice, taking her head from the pillow, “he’s even a bit warmer than usual, I think his gums are itching.”

“My poor baby,” Harry mumbled, turning his head to Y/n, “I hate seeing him upset, maybe we could make some homemade Popsicle, it helped when Cecília was teething.”

“Yeah, we can try that, we can make them tomorrow.” she patted the mattress, “now please come to bed, he did a number on me, I’m so tired.”

“Alright baby,” Harry took off his shirt, standing only in sweatpants, he went to the bed, laying by Y/n side, one arm hooked on her waist as she cuddled to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Y/n said against his neck.

“Oh baby, I am the lu--”

“--I mean, how many husbands would still love their wives even if they wouldn’t go jogging at 6 in the morning?” she said teasingly, her giggles reaching his ear.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “you are making a lot of jokes for someone who is tired,” he kissed her temple. “I’m gonna wake you up at 5 am tomorrow, so we can be fitness together.”

“Don’t you dare! You do that and your plan of being a father to three it’s over.”

“Damn sweetheart, that’s not very nice, huh?”

“You’re the one who started,” she said, before closing her eyes, snuggling to Harry’s body. The man placed a hand on her belly, falling asleep minutes later.

Tag list: @sunandherflores @elenagilbert01 @bellelittleoff, @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

If you don't want to be in the tag list just let me know, please!! <3

[jamiewintons]

The Perfect Gift (Thomas Thorne/F!Reader)

Summary: It’s Christmas Day, and you’re excited to give Thomas his gift. You soon find out that the two of you think very much alike.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff. Established Relationship. Ghost!Reader. Christmas. Pet names. Thomas being sappy af. Implied spoilers for the 2021 Christmas special. Alison ships it.

A/N: I was so inspired by the Christmas special that I sat down and wrote this whole thing in one sitting. It's not that long, and I'm a bit tired so there might be some mistakes, but I hope it's still enjoyable!! As always, reblogs are appreciated.

Word Count: 810

(Gif by me)

** “Do you think he’s going to like it?” Alison asked, looking down at the gift she held in her hands, wrapped neatly in beautiful green and red paper.

“I’m sure he will. You did an amazing job, Alison,” you replied with a smile. Of course you wished that you could have made a present for Thomas yourself, but you knew that it was impossible. But together you and Alison had created something wonderful — well, it had actually been just Alison, all you’d had to do was sit there and look pretty. “I really appreciate all the work you put in for me.”

“Thanks, Y/N. We'd better go and see him, I know he's excited to give you your gift.” The two of you walked together towards the library, where you knew that Thomas was waiting.

“Merry Christmas, dearest,” Thomas said for what had to be the thousandth time that day, rushing over to kiss you on the cheek as soon as you’d entered the room.

“You too, Thomas.” You giggled a little, taking his hand in yours. Together you walked over to where Alison had placed your gift, along with Thomas’.

“Alright, who wants to open first?” Alison asked, indicating towards the two similarly shaped and sized presents.

“Ladies first,” Thomas insisted, and you looked closer at the gift, reading the tag that had been stuck onto the wrapping paper.

To my dearest Y/N,

Love from Thomas (with a small love heart at the end that Thomas convinced Alison to add)

It wasn’t as poetic as you were used to, but it was a very small tag. Thomas watched you with joyful eyes as Alison began unwrapping the gift, the paper falling away to reveal a portrait of Thomas himself. He looked incredibly handsome, even if he was posing in a rather silly way.

“Oh my God,” you said with a gasp, looking back and forth between Thomas and the portrait. Thomas grinned at you.

“A rather stunning likeness, do you not think? Alison is very talented.”

When you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly, Thomas still seemed somewhat surprised, regardless of how many times you had done the same thing.

“Yes, she definitely is. But this is so weird...” You looked up into Thomas’ eyes, and saw his confusion at your words.

“What is weird?” he asked, seeming a little worried.

“Well, you’ll find out once you see your present.” You untangled yourself from Thomas, turning back around to watch Alison tearing the paper off the second present. This time you watched Thomas’ face intently, wanting to see his reaction as soon as he realised what you had given him.

Thomas’ eyes went wide and his jaw dropped as the gift was revealed. It was a portrait of you, but not as you appeared now. Rather you wore a lovely pale blue regency era dress, your hair done up in a more period appropriate hairstyle.

Despite the changes Alison had made to your clothes and hair, it was very obviously you. Thomas stared at the artwork for a good few minutes, in stunned silence.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, placing a gentle hand on Thomas’ arm to try and bring him back to reality.

“It’s gorgeous! Utterly gorgeous!” he exclaimed, taking his attention away from the portrait to kiss you briefly. “And we both thought to gift a portrait of ourselves to each other? We think so alike, surely this is proof that we are soulmates.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling again, Thomas was just far too adorable for words. The two of you looked to the portraits sitting next to each other.

“How did you find the time to paint two portraits like this while keeping them a secret?” you asked Alison in awe.

Alison shrugged. “You know, I’m not really sure myself.”

“Thank you so much, Alison. They’re amazing,” you told her sincerely, truly amazed by what she had done for the two of you.

“I think they would look lovely hanging in our bedroom, so we could view them whenever we wish. Would that be alright, Alison?” Thomas asked.

“Sure, but you’ll have to give me a few days.”

“Wonderful.” Thomas turned to you, his eyes still shining with joy. “Shall we go and see the others?”

You nodded. You knew that Thomas would be ecstatic to tell everyone that you were so perfectly matched that you gave each other matching gifts.

“You go ahead, my angel, I shall catch up with you. I must ask Alison something.” As soon as you were out of earshot, Thomas turned to Alison. “I was just thinking, Valentine’s Day is only a couple of months away, but perhaps you could paint a portrait of Y/N and I together…”

Alison sighed. Perhaps she had made a mistake doing something so thoughtful.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I Stayed There - Eugene Sledge x OFC

Chapter 3 - The Child That Would Never Know Peace

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 /// Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Summary: Anna suffers the consequences of war, and Eugene yearns to return home

Warnings: Death, grief, strenuous mother/daughter relationship

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: @cagzzz107

A/N: Character's names in bold italics indicate a change in POV

-

Anna

I became accustomed to grief soon enough. By the third time it happened, I was almost numb to the way my heartbeat stopped and sour bile rose in my throat when I heard my mother's anguished wails echoing from the front porch.

Richard died first. Then John. They were killed on Guadalcanal, Richard only a few days after Charlie had shipped out and the last brother I had left had slipped through my fingers. They'd been killed so close together that I'd barely had time to learn to breathe again after Richard died, that the army was showing up at our door again to deliver news of John's death. After that it became a waiting game. My mother and myself sat on opposite couches, staring blankly at the floor, picturing all the things that could happen to Charlie in Europe. Every morning I woke up and realised he could already be gone - that they were on their way to tell us, and we just didn't know it yet.

I became so accustomed to grief that I had begun to feel it before they were even dead.

The life inside the house had gone, photos of my father and three oldest brothers lined up along the mantel like a tribute to the dead, Charlie's photograph framed on the side table as if it was just waiting to go up alongside the others.

Three months after John had died, in the early days of May, I headed up to my mother's room to wake her, as it was already more than an hour past when she would usually appear. The upstairs hallway was eerily quiet, lined with empty bedrooms that we hadn't dared touch since their inhabitants had gone. Her room was at the end of the corridor, and when I pushed the door open it took my eyes a moment to readjust to the dimness.

It was almost midday, but in that room, it was dark enough to be night. The curtains were pulled so tightly shut that not a sliver of light made it through, and my mother was lying on top of made sheets, fully dressed, curled up on her side in silence and breathing so slowly it was almost imperceptible.

"Ma," I called softly out to her. "Ma, you gotta get up, Belle and Larry will be here with the baby soon." My cousin and her husband were dropping by later that day, touring the homes of the extended March family in a bid to show off their newborn son.

"I don't want them here." My mother spoke, her voice hoarse and dull.

"Ma-"

"Can't they come back another day? I don't want to see anyone today."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. It was as if the roles between us had been reversed, as if in her grief my mother had become dependent on me, like I was the parent and she was the child making a tired plea for permission to avoid her obligations.

"They're going back to Tennessee tomorrow, they have to come today," I explained, in the tone that an exhausted parent might use with a child.

"Well, I'm not coming down."

I sighed again. "Alright. Alright, fine, I'll see them on my own. I'll go put on some tea - do you need anything?"

"No." She said quietly, rolling over so that she was facing away from me, effectively ending the dispute.

I was miserable. Completely, utterly miserable. Everything I'd so mournfully predicted the previous summer seemed to be coming true, and I had to turn away from the kitchen counter to stop my salty tears from landing in the tea I was preparing. I missed everything about the way things were. I wanted more than anything to hear Bobby's laugh again, to cheer from the crowd at one of Richard's football games, to feel John's hugs again. I wanted Charlie to come home, to save himself and spare us from the final loss that I wasn't sure my mother would ever be able to come back from.

Some mornings, when I woke up early to frost gathering on my windowsill, I imagined that Eugene was standing outside, throwing snowballs against my window, so vividly that sometimes I thought it was real.

But it wasn't. No one came around anymore except to offer their condolences. We were the family upon which the town unloaded their sympathy - posting cards under the door, leaving flowers on the porch, as if we would contaminate them with our losses if they actually spoke to us.

I'm pretty sure that everyone encounters one definitive moment in their life when they realise their childhood is over and that their life will never be tinted with that sense of innocence ever again. Mine was that day.

-

When our guests arrived, I set out three teacups on the table and made some excuse about how my mother had a cold and wanted to stay upstairs to avoid making the baby sick, and that she was probably sleeping so they should avoid going up to see her.

"That's a shame," Belle said. "Catherine always loved babies, I always thought that was why she had so many," She chuckled.

I paused for a moment, the teapot in my hand making my shoulder ache as I held it still in mid-air. "One would assume."

Larry hovered by the mantel, hands folded behind his back as he examined the photos. "Who's this?" He asked, pointing to one.

Belle cleared her throat loudly and shot her husband an uncomfortable look. "That's Richard, my brother," I said quietly.

I watched his face as he thought about my answer and seemed to remember exactly what made my family so fucking special. His expression fell sharply, and he bowed his head slightly, stepping back from the mantel.

At that moment it was hard to fight the feeling of resentment that threatened to prick at me. Hard to try not to scowl at the people sitting across from me because how dare they come into my house and not even bother to remember what had happened to my brothers - to their own family - as if they hadn't posted flowers and a hurriedly written condolence card. I realised then that they were so wrapped up in parading their new baby about the place that it had simply slipped their mind that they were supposed to care about my life in the same way they expected me to care about theirs.

I wanted them to get out.

But instead, I poured myself a cup of tea and took a long sip, letting the silence sit and settle in the room until they were just as uncomfortable as I felt.

Belle was the first to speak up and break it. "Would you like to hold the baby?"

"I suppose," I replied icily, setting my saucer down on the table as she stood up, the child letting out a gurgled coo as I held out my arms to receive him.

He was lighter than I had expected, and as I held him he blinked up at me slowly, his tiny fingers flexing, his whole body enveloped in layers of cotton and muslin. And my heart hurt for him. I ached for the innocence I saw in his eyes, in the face of a child born into a world at war, a world that was tearing itself apart all around him. It hurt to know that he would never be able to say he remembered life before war - that he would grow up surrounded by people like me who had been hurt and torn by it and never know it as anything but normal. He would see the world in a way I would never be able to understand, and I pitied him for it.

I felt his fingers close around my thumb, his entire palm scarcely larger than the pad of my finger, and I managed to crack a smile for the child that would never know peace.

-

Eugene

I remember being crouched in some shitty hole somewhere, shoulders hunched inwards when the mail came. Wiping the mud off my palms to avoid ruining the paper as I accepted my stack - four letters in total - and sifted through them. One from Sid, from Ma, my brother. And one from Anna.

Tearing into it without hesitation, I had to momentarily slow myself down to avoid ripping the letter itself. Reading the first few lines, I was interrupted by the sound of laughter.

"That letter sure seems special," Snafu grinned, crouched atop a rock outside of my hole.

I shrugged, trying to get back to reading. "Just a friend."

"A friend? What's his name?"

"Anna."

His interest seemed piqued, and I immediately regretted my response. "A broad? Well, tell me you got a photograph."

My hand twitched towards the breast pocket of my shirt before I could think, and Snafu made a dive for it, my dirty hand failing to tear the photo from him as he snatched it. He held it in both hands, brow raised a little and a mischievous grin beginning to spread across his cheeks. "A blonde friend," He chuckled. "Seems I misjudged you, Sledgehammer."

"Y'know unlike you I actually do have the decency to be friends with women," I spoke irritatedly, launching myself up from where I was sitting and grabbing it from him, shoving the photo back into my pocket with less care for keeping it uncreased than keeping it private. "Just mind your damn business."

When you return home from war, people always want to know what you thought about whilst you were there - what tethered you to home, what lulled you to sleep, what kept you sane when the sky lit up with fire. They expect answers filled with romanticism - that I imagined my childhood sweetheart or my mother kissing my forehead - but in truth, war twists your mind until it doesn't feel like your own, and it's hard for me to place myself in those shoes without feeling as if I'm looking in on someone else's life.

When I thought of home, it wasn't rose-tinted or peaceful. I could hear the sound of Anna's beer bottle breaking, shattering over and over in my mind as she got up and stormed away from me. When I remembered the pair of us bobbing up and down in that lake, I didn't think of the way the warmth of her skin had soaked through the sodden fabric of her dress and into my palms, or the way the water had rested in droplets on her eyelashes. I thought of the murky depths that had spread out beneath me, of the icy void that I could have sunk into had I not been more careful, the same way Bobby March had met his grim fate later that year.

I looked back on my life at home and saw the way things had already been falling apart around me without me even noticing, like wallpaper peeling away in the corner, hidden behind some bookcase and entirely unnoticed until you move everything around years later and find the gap where it fell away infested with dank, black mould.

And yet I yearned for home. It was easy to distract myself from it, but when I found myself waiting for the fighting to start, I felt hollow from missing it so dearly. I wanted to ride my bike down the long country roads with Sid the way we used to as kids, the pedals whirring round and round so fast that our feet blurred and our knees hurt, wind whipping past my ears so loud that I could barely hear him whooping beside me. I wanted to be back at the March's house the night of Anna's birthday dinner when she was eleven, slouching in an armchair, warmed by the fire as she lay contently on her stomach at my feet, her face lit orange by the flames as she poured over her book. I wanted to be everywhere, all at once - anywhere that wasn't here.

I can't remember what Anna's letter had said, and I shamefully confess to having lost a stack of them in Peleliu which were probably trampled into the thick mud before anyone noticed they were there. But I can remember the feeling of relief that I felt whenever I heard from her. When I look back on it I think that Anna was the strongest tether I had to home back then - stronger than Sidney, stronger than my parents, even. Her letters were always longer than everyone else's, and she had a knack for knowing exactly what I was interested to hear. Sidney only ever wrote about what seemed important, and my mother wrote about local gossip in arduous detail until I became so bored I only skim read her letters.

But Anna knew how to keep me tied to all the interesting things I missed about home. She only told me when our old classmates got married to complain about how boring their new spouses were, and knew how to toe the line between making home a place I ached to return to and somewhere I was glad not to be at present.

And then, one by one, I started receiving newspaper clippings of the March brothers' obituaries.

-

Anna

Charlie died in March 1945.

Somehow, in the two years since John's death, I had convinced myself that Charlie could make it. That he hadn't died yet, so he probably wouldn't, and people kept saying the war could end soon, so surely he'd be fine. That, unlike my other brothers, he had gone to Europe rather than the Pacific, and that somehow that might make a difference.

But it didn't. He took a bullet to the skull on the Russian front and died right there and then, his blood staining the snow a horrible scarlet. My mother and I had spent the last two years trying to heal ourselves, only for any semblance of peace we had found to be ripped from us again.

I had been the one to answer the door when they came to tell us. I had held myself together, my jaw clenched so tight I was scared I'd chip a tooth, and sent them away with a silent nod. I'd stood by the window and watched them walk away until they passed the end of the drive before letting out the most guttural wail I could muster, my sobs so coarse they left my throat raw for days.

Ma had known what it meant when the army knocked at our door, and it had been confirmed when she'd heard my cry. She locked herself in her bedroom and I didn't see her, even once, for two days. No one came down to wipe away my tears or to hold me close, no one's arms wrapped around me but my own. I can barely explain how much I wanted to hate her for leaving me down there alone, for letting the only child she had left sit and sob on the living room floor for three hours until the news reached Mary and she came running across town to see me.

Mary was the person who helped me into a chair, who stroked my hair until I was able to stop crying and then brought me a cup of tea to soothe my painful throat. Mary was the person whose shoulder I rested my head on as she spoke any words of comfort she could muster and stayed with me through the night when I couldn't sleep for the insatiable urge to cry.

Everything my mother should have done to help me in the days after Charlie had died, Mary did. She barely spoke, and yet she was what kept me sane. Years later I'm not angry with my mother anymore for leaving me alone, as I do not know the pain of losing a child and pray I never will. But back then I felt forsaken, forgotten. As if I had been disregarded in favour of her wallowing, as if the children she'd lost had become infinitely more important than the one she still had.

I think I hated her for a little while after that. She had made me feel alone in my own house when she could've allowed me to share in her pain, and I suppose at the time it had felt like a betrayal.

If those months between Charlie's death and the end of the war had been good for anything, it would've been for the bond then strengthened even more between Mary and me. And when Sidney came back it was almost as if I was offered the chance to go back to the way things were before.

But nothing would ever be the same as it was before.