#Sea Hawk x Bow

[bi-dykes]

Bye, guys!

[romancemedia]

[the-lesbian-of-too-many-fandoms]

I wanted to practice full body poses, so I drew she ra ships dancing.

[cindysparkle96]

Happy 5th Anniversary to She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

[hersterical]

Some of my favorite fictional friendships who I think would be willing to get platonically married (some of these I ship both platonically and romantically and some of these I ship purely platonically)

(Stranger Things) Robin & Steve: Do I even need to explain this one?

(MCU) Kate & Yelena: This is doubly true if Yelena is ace and/or aro. I could also see them getting married on an assignment or something and then just not getting around to divorcing while joking about being work wives

(MCU) Clint & Natasha: I honestly only see this happening in a situation where Laura dies in a non-Thanos related incident

(Seinfeld) Jerry & George: They sincerely believe that it was just for the tax benefits. Hard to say if they ever become self-aware enough for it to become romantic

(Community) Annie & Abed: Got carried away with the bit. Abed doesn’t take marriage seriously enough to get a divorce and Annie likes the idea of being married and being able to refer to someone as her husband. They do eventually both grow to actually enjoy being platonically married to each other. Annie might eventually want a divorce when she realizes she’s a lesbian and falls in love with a woman. Abed might want a divorce if he sees how sad the marriage makes Troy

(Lotr) Legolas & Gimli: Same reasons for why they’d get married romantically but if they had no romantic feelings for each other

(X-Men Evolution) Rogue & Kitty: I could see them actually following through on an “if neither of us are married by the time we’re 40” kind of arrangement, though it’d take quite a bit of convincing on Kitty’s part and wouldn’t happen until their 50’s

(The Good Place) Jason & pretty much anyone except for Michael (and Janet): Literally canonically happened with Tahani, kind of canonically happened with Pillboi. Eleanore would definitely go for it if it got her out of a tough situation (and depending on her relationship status with Chidi). Would probably be able to guilt trip Chidi into it if it was really necessary to get Jason out of a bad situation

(SPOP) Bow and Sea Hawk: I don’t think this requires an explanation

(Willow) Kit & Elora: Only if there’s something that stops Kit from marrying Jade or if it’s on accident

Honorable Mentions

(Psych) Shawn & Gus: Shawn would no hesitation platonically marry Gus but Gus would not be up for it

(BBC Merlin) Arthur and Merlin: Would they be platonic life partners? Yes. Would they be romantically married? Yes. Would they get platonically married? No.

(X-Men Evolution) Kurt & Kitty: They would also have an ‘if neither of us are married by the time we’re 40’ kind of thing but Kurt’s too much of a romantic to go through with it

(Community) Jeff & Britta: It wouldn’t be romantic, and it wouldn’t be platonic, but a secret third thing (probably related to spite). We already almost saw it happen in the season two premiere

(Schitt’s Creek) Stevie and David: They would consider it in the pre-Patrick era, but David’s too much of a romantic to go through with it (did they have an ‘if we’re not married by the time we’re 40’ thing in canon? I can’t remember)

(New Girl) Winston and Cece: A classic Winston and Cece mess around would go too far and Cece would demand an immediate divorce (though dependings on the timing she might let it go longer than necessary just to watch Schmidt’s head explode regularly)

(BTVS) Tara and Oz: Sincerely don’t know if either of them would actually be down for this but I think it’d be tons of fun

(SPOP) Bow and Adora: I think they’d be perfectly happy to be platonically married but Glimmer would blow a gasket and Catra’s passive aggressiveness would be reaching very dangerous levels

[frickingnerd]

She-Ra Masterlist

Adora

sparing with adora - headcanons

Catra

rivals to friends with catra - headcanons

Glimmer

late night strategies - drabble

Bow

bow teaching his s/o how to use a bow - headcanons

Perfuma

strong for you - drabble

Mermista

jealous mermista - headcanons

Entrapta

entrapta crushing on a popular reader - headcanons

Scorpia

bad friends and good enemies - oneshot

Sea Hawk

yandere sea hawk - headcanons

[mustardflavoredbear]

God damn it, I love gay men

they are gay your honor 🎖 This is my first time editing something it was fun :3333 I gave seahawk a big sexy nose. hmmmm I'm still figuring out how to draw it XD

Damn gay months tomorrow XD

[domxmarvel]

Request are open-She ra

Guidelines

I've recently been re-watching She ra and I've decided to add some new characters

Mermista

Sea hawk

Bow

Queen Glimmer

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 2

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8k this part

description: after joining the straw hats on board the going merry, you're confused as to what to do with your life from now—and you can't help but get closer to zoro.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, patching of wounds

author’s note: second chapter! i hope you like it <3 out of the three this one's probably my favorite personally, i really like the wound-stitching scene & i think it's one of the best scenes ive ever written. i'm suchhh a slut for the patching up of wounds trope.

You rose before the sun, careful to pack your belongings all in one sack. Considering the very little amount you’d brought, it was a relatively easy task—leaving the sloop would be fine, too, as you paid for the slip for a few months longer at least. Your father had so many ships across so many seas it hardly mattered much anymore. 

You double-checked that you had all of your things before shutting down and leaving the sloop, consulting some of the dock men to transfer a boat lift under the berth. You moved carefully across the east port, making quick time as you returned to the Straw Hats’ ship in slip fifty-two. 

There were apparent signs of life when you reached the ship, even with the sky cast over in dark hues of navy. All of the dead bodies had been removed, for one, and dock men were loading barrels up on the deck while Sanji watched over them. His expression brightened as his gaze fell across you. 

“Lady Dracule!” he called out, slipping off from the barrel on which he’d been perched to meet you at the pier. You gave him an unimpressed look. 

“I have a name, you know.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” Sanji answered, a lopsided grin pulling up the side of his face. You rolled his eyes and introduced yourself, which only prompted a brighter smile and a steady pat of his hand on your back. “A fine name, for a fine woman.” 

“Sanji, stop flirting with the crew.” You glanced up to see Nami, one hip cocked to the side with her hand on her waist, staring down with an exasperated glint in her eye. “Welcome aboard the Going Merry. Sorry I was a little grouchy last night. I don’t like having my sleep interrupted.” She leaned down to offer you her hand, and you took it, climbing aboard the ship. 

“The Going Merry?” 

“Fits it, don’t you think?” Sanji asked from behind you. Nami eyed him again, volume dropping as she tilted her head towards yours. 

“He’ll quit with the sweet talk eventually. I’ll give you a tour once we’ve cast off. We’re just waiting for Zoro to get back from town, and then we’re all set.” She turned to bark out another few orders to Sanji— “Finish up with the crates already!” 

“Anything you want, madam,” Sanji said with a little bow. Nami let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Luffy already prepared a room for you. I’ll show you to it.” She led you below deck, back towards the ship’s aft. There was a collection of rooms all crammed together, one beside the other. “These are the women’s quarters. Men’s’ are all the way at the front of the ship.” She nodded behind her. “You get this one here. Sorry, it’s small.” 

She opened the door to the very last room, and you stepped inside, surveying your surroundings. It wasn’t much; the cabin barely scraped by as a room, consisting of only a wardrobe, a hanging bed, and a small table and chair stuck in the corner. A round window at the very edge of the room revealed the water just a mere few feet below. 

“It’ll do fine, thank you,” you said. Your room back at home was far more ornate, but you’d never been picky. 

“You can sleep for a few more hours,” Nami said, lingering by the cabin mouth. “Come find me when you’re ready for a tour. We should be setting off in a few moments, if Zoro’s back.”

You gave her a smile, and she left, the patter of her footsteps dying off as she walked further and further away. 

It didn’t take you long to get arranged, and afterwards, you gingerly sat down on the bed, the rope tied to the ceiling causing it to sway under you. You were still uncertain about boarding the ship, but you couldn't exactly return to your sloop now. And it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you tried to convince yourself. 

You felt the ship start moving just a few moments later, and you stood up, walking across the rocking ship to get up to the deck. You were making fast time, Loguetown’s silhouette rapidly getting swallowed in the gulp of the horizon. 

Nami was bickering with Zoro and Luffy when you found her. “What even took you so long? We were due to leave a half-hour ago.” 

“I was getting new swords,” Zoro said calmly. Nami eyed him, then yanked something out of his hand. A wallet, it looked like, stuffed with bills of berry. “You can’t be mad at me. I spent less than half of your budget.” 

“They scammed you,” Nami scoffed, eyeing the katanas at Zoro’s hip. Zoro simply shrugged. “A sword for free? It’s probably made of plastic.” 

Zoro snorted. “I’d be able to tell.” 

Nami cast him a look, gaze unimpressed under the line of her eyelashes. “You can’t tell the difference between a ship mast and a tree.” 

“Yeah, but I know swords.” 

“Oh, hey!” Luffy, who’d seemed tuned out of his crewmates’ conversation, said as he spotted you. “Glad to see you here. Officially part of the crew.” 

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not so sure if I’ll be joining you forever.” Luffy looked confused by that, but not particularly offended—Nami and Zoro had turned to watch you, too, argument dying on trembling legs. “Right now the plan is to help you get to the Grand Line. From there you can drop me home. And then we’ll part ways.” 

“If you change your mind…” Luffy trailed off, then patted you on the shoulder. “Nami, were you going to show her around?” 

“I was, but I’ve got some mapping to do.” Nami glanced over at Zoro. “Hey. Make yourself useful.” 

“I hate you,” Zoro muttered. He brushed past you, just barely motioning with his head for you to follow. “Afterdeck.” 

You stepped into the small space. It was easily the most secluded place on the ship deck, decorated with three young tangerine trees in white boxy planters. “I like your trees.” 

“They’re Nami’s trees.” Zoro gestured with his head again, and you followed him. The tour was brief; Zoro didn’t have much to say, generally just showing you a room before telling you what it was and departing for the next area. 

You were about halfway through the tour when Zoro spoke again, the words abrupt in his throat. He spat them out rather than spoke them, and you got the impression he’d been mulling over talking for a while— “You ever beat your dad in combat?” 

You snorted. “No.” 

Zoro didn’t look at you, opting instead to push through the next doorway and gesture vaguely around him to show you the surroundings. “Gotten close?” 

“Never.” You shrugged. “He taught me the basics, but I wasn’t the best student. He’d try to be strict and everything, but… sword fighting isn’t really my thing. You’re probably better than me.” 

Zoro gazed at you skeptically. “He taught you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you—” He paused, mouth open for a moment before resuming his sentence. He didn’t sound particularly hesitant, but the pause had you stifling a smile anyway, knowing he was at least a little bit flustered. “We should train together.” 

“Was that a question?” 

“Not really.” Zoro’s lip quirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in an odd semblance of a smile. He didn’t seem the type to smile often, though, so it didn’t look out of ordinary on his face. “Have you seen enough of the ship yet, or do you want me to show you the bilge too?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered primly. “Now did you want to fight me or not?” 

Zoro actually smiled at that. 

You decided to train on the main deck, in an area wide enough to not bump into anyone else. You shed your jacket, pulling Hiru out of its scabbard. Zoro winced as the sun hit the silver blade, reflecting a blinding gleam off its surface. “That a stylistic choice?” 

“I polish things when I get anxious,” you answered. “So not really.” 

“Right.” Zoro untied a black bandana from where it was fixed on his bicep, fingers working fluidly against the knot. Once he got it untied, he wrapped it around his head, tying it carefully around his head. Afterwards, he slid one of his swords out of its scabbard, holding it with his fingers to follow with the other. “How low should my expectations be?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you answered. Zoro let a soft sound out through his mouth, but he said no more, transferring one sword to each hand. He moved carefully, arms arching over his head to lower to each of his sides. You lifted Hiru up, more casual in your movements than Zoro was. 

You paid more attention to Zoro than the actual fight when you started moving. You figured you’d have time to genuinely practice later—you hadn’t kept a close eye on the swordsman in the battle against the pirate hunters, and your curiosity was eating at you. Zoro was all angles when he fought, elbows lifted and limbs pin-straight. That wasn’t to say there was no flexibility in his movements, though—he dodged your oncoming attacks easily, sidestepping with a light twist of the torso so your blade cut air instead of flesh. 

Just a few seconds in you could tell Zoro was far, far better than you. You parried one of his attacks, gasp ripping from your throat as you just barely managed to block off a slash from his katana with Hiru. He spun towards you, careful not to actually cut as his blade came for the throat. You managed to dodge just in time, moving backwards with a quick patter of your feet against the wooden deck. 

There was barely anything skewed in his motions, you were soon to realize. He was perfect in every sense of the word. Your styles were vastly different, of course—Zoro mainly relied on his blades, and his physicality was carefully practiced, no curves or bends apparent in the straight lines and slants of his body. In comparison, you were much more slippery, focusing mainly on your agility to carry you throughout a fight rather than your strength. 

“Your elbow,” Zoro said. You barely managed to respond, letting out a grunt of effort as you blocked Zoro’s oncoming attack. 

“Hm?”

Zoro’s katana came from the left. He used the other one to knock your arm up, nearly gentle in his movements, and you were reminded of how Mihawk used to train you—stopping mid-fight to reposition your limbs, using his sword to carefully push your hands in the right places. “You’re dropping it.” 

“I don’t care much for angles,” you answered, ducking under Zoro’s incoming blade and sliding off to the side instead of trying to shove against it. Zoro seemed startled by that, struck off-balance as he stumbled, turning to face you. 

You jerked your sword towards him, one leg coming up to shove against his torso whilst doing so. You managed to knock him fully off-balance then, and he staggered against his feet, teetering precariously backwards. “Your center of gravity is screwed.” 

“You dad kept flinging me around the pier,” Zoro said. You raised your brows, the phrase nonsensical to your ears. But it did sound like Mihawk. “It run in the family?”

“Very funny.” You dodged another slash of Zoro’s swords. “The only thing I picked up well in our lessons was about keeping balance.” 

“And dodging, apparently.” You snickered at that, parrying another one of Zoro’s attacks—but it was getting harder and harder, what with the immense strength of his body you simply couldn’t keep up with. As flexible as you were, you weren’t quick enough this time, and Zoro swept you off your feet so you fell to the ground, wind bursting out of your chest all in one rush. Hiru clattered a few feet away, your fingers unfolding from their grip and letting it move freely.

Zoro slid his swords back in their sheaths, letting them close with a satisfying click. “You fight too defensively.”

You lay there for a moment, trying to gather air back into your lungs. “Never found a point in attacking others, really.” You got up, straightening your shirt before bending over to pick Hiru up from the floor. “Good fight.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, but his voice was weak, tapering off to blend in with the wind. He had an uncertain look on his face, big brown eyes all fuzzy around the edges, like there was some cloudlike film covering him from seeing properly. You frowned at him. 

“Is that because I’m worse or better than you expected?” you asked, gesturing vaguely up at his expression. Zoro blinked, the fog over his eyes clearing as he glanced down to meet your gaze. You waited expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “Zoro?” you prompted. 

“Sorry,” Zoro said. “I’m—I’m going to go to my cabin.” 

You watched him leave, growing more quizzical by the second. Well, you’d gotten what you’d come there for, anyway. Roronoa Zoro was a great swordsman. And he certainly had the potential to be the greatest in the world, too—a realization that shook you a little, heart trembling from where it was fixed in your chest cavity. You swallowed hard, mind replaying the firm motions of his body from the fight. He’d been confident, sure of himself. You had even forgotten he still hosted Yoru’s slash along his torso from just a week or so prior, he’d been so… perfect. 

“He’s good, huh?” 

You startled, turning to see Usopp sitting atop a pile of crates like a king on a throne. He was picking at his fingernails. “Zoro,” he clarified. “Best swordsman in the East Blue.” 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at where Zoro had left. “He is.” 

Usopp eyed you for a moment. “Your shell phone is ringing.”

You startled, patting down your figure before finally unearthing your phone from where it was tucked safely away in your pocket. You opened it, pushing the den den mushi in your ear as it vibrated, little mouth making soft rumbling sounds to catch your attention. Usopp clearly didn’t know a thing about privacy, though, because he kept watching even as you picked up— “Hello?” 

“Back home yet, darling?” Mihawk asked over the line, and you relaxed, your entire body going slack with comfort as you heard the familiar low hum of your father’s voice. “I figured you’d go back as quickly as possible.” 

“No, actually,” you said. “Luffy roped me into coming aboard his ship.” 

You could practically see Mihawk’s brows lift up in surprise. “You joined the Straw Hat pirate’s crew?” 

“No. They’re bringing me home. I’m helping them get to the Grand Line,” you corrected. Mihawk hummed, the sound a crackle of monotony through the den den mushi’s mouth. 

“And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

You chewed at your bottom lip, glancing off the side of the Going Merry to the East Blue. The sun had risen fully, fixing itself in a warm beam in the sky. “I was curious about Roronoa Zoro. You never told me why you left him alive. Or why you let Luffy go.” You could still feel Usopp’s gaze on you while you spoke, and you just knew he’d be telling the rest of his crew this after your conversation finished. “So I wanted to figure out your reasoning.” 

“Ah,” Mihawk said. “Has he healed from Yoru’s wound yet?”

“It’s not like I tore off his shirt to check, dad,” you muttered. Mihawk barked out a laugh, and you startled at the sound before settling down again. “He walks fine. I saw bandages.” 

Mihawk seemed pleased by that. “Wonderful. He’s a hardy one. You should fight him.”

“Already did,” you answered. “He beat me.”

Mihawk considered that for a moment. “Eh, I saw that coming.”

You scoffed. “You have no faith in me. Where are you now?” 

“South Blue, still,” Mihawk replied. “Are you at least enjoying yourself there? It’ll be good for you to make friends, sweetheart. You don’t get much social interaction other than me and the villagers, after all.” 

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a ride home,” you said insistently, but your voice was weak, and Mihawk clearly didn’t believe you. Your mind wandered back to Zoro—the firm muscle of his body, the hushed tone he spoke in, and you found your face pinkening. “One of them—one of them wants to kill you. That’s his entire life’s purpose. To murder you.” 

“I think you’re being a tad bit broad, darling,” Mihawk said with a click of his tongue. “You seem rather enamored with this particular young swordsman. Something to say?” 

“I—” your words fumbled in your mouth, and you were certain you were entirely pink now, the sun’s glowing rays only making your face warmer than it was rapidly turning. “Stop. I’m hanging up now.”

Mihawk’s voice was tastefully dry when he responded. “I’m sure.”

“Shut up, old man,” you grumbled. 

“Right. Remember the rule, dear,” Mihawk trilled, and despite his voice being as monotone as ever, you could still identify the undertones of it—laced with syrupy mocking, all teasing and dramatic. “No dating unless he can beat you in combat!” 

You actually did hang up this time, practically tearing the den den mushi out of your ear. You huffed out an irritated breath, rubbing a circle into the shell of your snail as an apology just a moment later. “Sorry,” you murmured. “My dad’s a bitch.” 

The snail just let out a little grumble in response. You tucked it back into its case and snapped the phone shut. 

“Aw, we’re not allowed to say hi?” You spun around at the new voice, glaring upon seeing Sanji and Luffy having joined Usopp in his eavesdropping. Sanji bore a gigantic grin on his face. “Sounded like an interesting conversation.” 

“None of you know what boundaries are,” you muttered, but it was light-hearted. 

You didn’t see Zoro until suppertime, a fact that rang odd in your head. It seemed like he’d completely evaporated from the ship, disappearing around every corner as you spent the rest of the day getting to know the rest of the crew better. Something had happened, but you weren’t exactly sure what—and you weren’t exactly sure if you were close enough to him to even ask, yet. 

Sanji had cooked up a dinner so fine you doubted it could even quality as ship food. From your time traveling with your father, rations on-board hadn’t been much of anything—a few scraps of bread or dried meat, old apples, perhaps some fish if you were lucky. Mihawk hadn’t the biggest priority on eating well, but the Straw Hat crew seemed to have the exact opposite opinion. You were served a bowl of miso soup along with a bowl of rice, and dishes of tofu and oyster sauce stir-fried vegetables were carefully laid out all across the table. 

“Bon appétit,” Sanji said, taking a half-bow before slipping into the last seat around the table. “I hope it’s to your liking. Yours especially, Lady Dracule.” He gave you a little wink at that. You just stared at him. 

“I thought I told you my name.”

“Well, you did, but I thought Lady Dracule had a nice ring to it.” 

“It doesn’t,” you said. Nami stifled a snort, the hand not holding her chopsticks coming up to cover her mouth. Sanji didn’t look the slightest bit dissuaded. You turned your attention on Zoro, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the whole meal. He was rather studiously focused on his bowl, eyes picking apart the grains of rice like they’d reveal the world’s greatest secrets. 

Carefully, you leaned towards Nami, voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “Is he okay?” 

“He gets like that sometimes,” Nami answered, her words drowned out by Usopp and Luffy’s cheerful conversation. “Nobody can crack him except for Luffy. I’d just leave him be.” 

“You don’t know why?” 

Nami just shrugged. “Hell, we’re all depressed sometimes. Not within my rights to question him.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t move away from Zoro’s figure. There was a particular squeezing sensation deep in your chest—a little flip-flop thing, a sort of panging you couldn’t quite place. He glanced up, dark eyes meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. But he didn’t flinch away. He just returned your gaze, strong and unblinking. 

To your surprise, Zoro was the first to look away, craning his neck to study his bowl again and continuing on like your extended bout of eye contact hadn’t even happened. You watched him, dumbstruck, until Nami nudged you in the shoulder. The rest of the group’s idle chatter had died down, and Usopp and Sanji were staring at you, low murmurs falling out of their mouths. You cleared your throat, finally dropping your gaze from the green-haired swordsman and attempting to ignore the fact everyone had caught you staring. 

You didn’t do much of anything after supper—you just returned to your cabin, carefully walking across the creaking boards of the ship. Luffy assigned you mid watch, so you had a few hours to sleep before waking up at midnight to look out for any enemies. 

You couldn’t find yourself falling asleep even after you’d slipped into bed. You’d changed, a loose blouse light against your skin, black silk shorts grazing your thighs. It was cold out, so you shrugged on a robe as you headed out into the darkness of the Going Merry. You emerged out on the deck, taking in a breath of the night air as you glanced to see who had the night watch. 

Just your luck. It was Zoro. 

He seemed tranquil, lounging across a hammock with his white sword—the Wado Ichimonji—cradled in his arms. In the dim light you couldn’t see if his eyes were open or closed, but as you got closer, he cracked one of them open, a gleam reflecting off his right iris. “Hi,” you said, moving over to the side of the ship to watch the waves on the water. 

Zoro didn’t deign to respond, so you just stood there, watching the sea lap at the side of the ship until eventually the hour struck twelve. Zoro left soundlessly. You stayed awake all throughout your watch until Usopp came to relieve you of your duties. 

Zoro was avoiding you. 

A few days had passed since you first boarded the Going Merry. They hadn’t been of much interest—just days of practicing with your sword and chatting with the crew, for the most part. You helped around the ship, completing various tasks apparently none of the members knew or cared enough to do. You were just emerging from the bilge, having done basic maintenance to ensure everything was working properly, when you bumped into him. The man was apparently taking a nap, though you couldn’t figure out why the storage area was a very good place to sleep. Still, he seemed comfortable enough, long body splayed along a grouping of crates. 

“Hi,” you said, for what seemed like the hundredth time over a few days. Zoro just averted his gaze and let out a little grunt in response. You stared at him for a moment. The realization had dawned on you ever since the first day, but it was growing more and more apparent, and you were baffled as to what you’d done to incur the silent treatment. 

“Hi,” you repeated, more purposefully this time.

“Hey,” Zoro said, though the word was clearly bitter in his mouth. You propped your hands on your hips and stared down at him. 

“You’re avoiding me.” 

Zoro closed his eyes, expression not even changing. “You’re not that special.”

“Ever since we fought that one time, you’ve been ignoring me,” you barreled on, entirely ignoring his quip. Zoro cocked a brow, eyes still closed, and you glared down at it. “I’d like to know why.” 

“Why do you care? We’re not friends.” 

“Isn’t it natural to want to know why someone is mad at you?” you demanded, perplexed. Zoro sighed then, shifting around on his boxes. 

“I’m not mad at you.” You heaved out a sigh even more irritated than Zoro’s. Your experience in the realm of dealing with close-lipped men’s personal issues was, unfortunately, rather well-seasoned. You’d had to coax situations out of your father, one hand pressed against Yoru’s hilt to prevent Mihawk from lashing out his frustrations rather than explaining them. But that didn’t mean you were all too fond of it. 

“Okay, well, why else would you be ignoring me then?” 

Zoro’s response was annoyingly frank. “It’s not really any of your business.” 

You pursed your lips, trying to suppress the irritated noise that threatened to burst from your throat. “I don’t like being on bad terms with people,” you started. “If I did something to piss you off, I’d very much like it if you—” 

The floor slipped out from underneath you before you could finish your sentence. You fell with a graceless clatter, lurching forward into the stack of crates Zoro was leaning on, words dying on your tongue. The entire boat trembled, quivering from side to side as if the ocean waves had suddenly propelled a thousand more ripples at its surface.

Zoro sat immediately up, one hand pushing you off of him as he scrambled off the crates. “What was that?” 

“I don’t—” Just a moment after regaining your balance, there was another dull thud and a row of quivers. You remained steady this time, glancing carefully around you before you and Zoro were both hurrying up towards the ship deck. The Going Merry was in chaos when you emerged, Nami at the helm while Sanji was firing up a cannon beside her. 

“What’s going on?” you demanded, the tails of your coat lapping around your calves as you hurried up besides Luffy. 

“Pirates,” Luffy said grimly, nodding towards a ship that was quickly gaining on you. “They blew through the stern railing. Do any of you recognize the jolly roger?” 

You glanced up, taking in the billowing sail boasting a pure-white jolly roger with a top hat and mustache. “Nope. These things are getting more and more ridiculous,” you muttered. 

“Yeah,” Luffy agreed, affronted. “Ours is way better.” 

You turned your gaze up at the Straw Hat crew’s aforementioned jolly roger. “...No comment.” 

“We can’t outrun them!” Nami shouted from her place at the helm. Sanji had successfully nailed a cannonball into the railing of the oncoming ship, but they had a dozen more men. “I’m going to try to get closer. Best chance we have is one-on-one combat.” She turned to fix the small grouping with a glare. “Don’t just stand there. Get to it!” 

You launched into action, hurrying to climb up the rigging to get a better view as Nami veered hard to starboard. The enemy ship had dropped their cannons, and you could see them preparing to board the Merry, grabbing onto loose ropes of rigging. “They’re going to swing over,” you reported, watching as the ship tilted in your direction, gaining on you. “I see maybe two or three dozen men.” 

You hesitated, glancing around at the rather stationary crew around you. Your lip tugged between your teeth, and you stood there for a moment, unspoken words heavy on your tongue. You could see the captain yelling out orders on the ship across from you, and you turned abruptly, fixing Sanji with a look. 

“Sanji, trade with Usopp. I want you to nail a cannon at their port stern.” 

“W—What? Me?” Usopp stuttered. You nodded. 

“I want Sanji on the frontlines. That should be close enough now.” You gazed out at the rapidly thinning gap between the two ships. One final cannonball whizzed towards, and you ducked, watching as it just brushed the side of the Merry. The ship rocked, and you tightened your grip on the rigging, satisfied to see it’d barely left a mark. 

“They’re coming over,” Sanji reported, and you nodded, sliding Hiru out from your scabbard as enemy pirates started swinging over on ropes. Luffy was the first to react, an arching, rubbery limb catching one of them midair and yanking them down into the ocean. Boots thudded on the ground as the enemy pirates landed aboard the Going Merry. 

“Time for a fight,” Zoro murmured, barely audible from your left. You jumped down from the rigging, sword coming down to crash against one of the enemy pirates. He reacted slowly, pistol cocking towards your chest—but you just brushed it to the side with Hiru, cutting it straight out his hand and following up with a flurry of sword thrusts. 

Besides you, you saw Sanji sliding into battle, spinning on his palms to deliver a mean right hook to someone’s jawbone. An audible crack pierced the air, and you winced, breezing backwards on your feet as two pirates closed in on you. 

Luffy seemed to have engaged in a one-on-one with the enemy captain, who was easily identifiable due to the gigantic top hat perched upon his head. He had thick black hair tied neatly back in a ponytail, and a mustache and beard to match. A thick cutlass was tightened in one fist, thrusted towards Luffy—but every sweep was dodged with unbelievable bends of the torso. 

You turned your attention away, whipping your sword at the pirates that surrounded you. Hiru clashed with their blades, gleaming silver scraping against theirs. You leaned forward, and the blade before you broke with the pressure, sword snapping under Hiru’s will. 

The sword dropped out of the pirate’s hand, and you took the opportunity to pull your leg up, kicking him squarely in the jaw. The other lunged for you, and your fist dug into their torso, hands gripping tight to their belt. You bent over, twisting into his body to push him over your shoulder in a sweeping throw. 

He fell to the floor all in one, and you landed a kick to his chest just to ensure he wouldn’t get up again. Another man—bigger, this time, probably half your width and inches taller—gunned for you. 

You sidestepped him easily, agility tilting in your favor as you escaped his grasp. It was harder to take this one down—while you could dodge him well enough, and parry his oncoming attacks, he was simply too strong to compete with. Strength isn’t everything, little hawk, Mihawk would always tell you. Everyone has a weakness. Get them off balance. Use your points. 

The man delivered a stinging left hook to your torso, and you gasped. He took the opportunity to grab onto your wrist, grip so tight you couldn’t move your hand. Hiru clattered out from between your fingers. You directed a hit with your elbow towards the pirate’s sternum, but it was oddly-placed, and he just sneered down at you. 

One of his large fists rose to thud against your skull, and you braced for impact, but the blow never landed. A warm squishing sound of a sword against skin made your entire body shudder, and you turned to stare as your assailant’s head slid cleanly off of his neck. 

Zoro was behind him when his body collapsed, sword slick with blood as he spun it lazily around in a hand. “Careful,” he said. 

You gaped up at him for merely a second more before you realized your jaw was ajar. You flushed, bending over to fish Hiru up from the floor. “I was fine.” 

Zoro just thrust his sword cleanly into the torso of an incoming pirate, eyes not breaking away from yours. He slid it out with a sickening sound, flicking the blood off the blade with a motion of his hand. “A thank you might be nice.”

“Behind you,” you said instead, but Zoro was already reacting. You watched him, an incurable sigh perched on the tip of your tongue. He was good. He was really, really good, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. “Is that most of them?” 

“I think—” Zoro cut himself off, glancing over his shoulder as you both hear the familiar yell of Luffy’s voice screaming out one of his final moves. You both watched, soundless, as his foot smashed into the top hat pirate’s face, flinging him all the way across the water straight into the mast of his own ship. Only mere seconds later did the mast crack, the wooden pole falling down in a glorious, wooden heap. 

“...Yeah, we’re fine.” Zoro said. He leaned down, grabbing the shirt of one of the fallen pirates to wipe his blade with before sliding it back in its scabbard. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“On it.” Nami snapped her bo staff closed—when she’d jumped down into the battle, you were unsure, but she was already returning to her place at the helm. “Toss these bodies off our boat, would you, Zoro?” 

“Right.” Zoro bent over, easily picking up the fallen pirate and chucking the corpse overboard without another thought. You watched him the entire time, the strain of his biceps against his skin forming solid ridges up his arms. 

“I can clean your swords,” you said, words a bit too late out of your mouth. Zoro glanced up, brow creased. “While you’re doing that.” 

Zoro looked uncertain, but he unstrapped the scabbards from his hip, handing the twin katanas to you. You took them, glancing over his figure again. He moved with difficulty, and while you’d originally thought that was because of the bodies’ weight, you now saw the real reason. Lines of crimson were seeping through his shirt, a pool by the left side of his lower abdomen the biggest injured site. You took an involuntary step forward. “You’re hurt.”

“I can treat them later,” Zoro said dismissively. “Gotta clean up the Merry first.” 

“No, mosshead, the lady is right,” Sanji said. You startled, not having noticed him slip up beside you. “Usopp and I can manage with waste control, eh?” He winked. “Go clean up.” 

Zoro glared at him, the look dripping with malice, but he didn’t argue past that. “Fine,” he said, chucking another body—this one alive—off the side of the ship before straightening. You heard the hitch in his breath as he spoke, along with the near-imperceptible wince of his face. “You good, Luffy?” 

“A little hungry,” Luffy responded truthfully. He was still watching the other ship. Fire had started aboard it, and soft billows of black smoke drifted in the air. “Can you cook something up later, Sanji?” 

“Got it,” Sanji said. “Tell your first mate to patch up his wound before he bleeds out all over our beautiful deck.” 

“The deck isn’t beautiful, it’s got blood and guts all over it,” Zoro muttered. 

“Well, have a little respect and don’t add to the mess.” Sanji fixed him with a stern look. Zoro bared his teeth at him in a grimace, extracting a sharp little laugh out of your throat. His eyes brushed over yours, a glimmer of surprise dancing in his irises, before he ducked inside. 

“Why are you following me?” Zoro asked flatly, as you entered the cabin he’d gone into. You’d hastened to keep up with him, only a few steps behind before finding the room he’d gone into. Zoro had propped himself up on the hanging bed, loosening the ties of his wrap shirt to expose his bare chest. 

“I was wondering if you needed any help with your wounds.” You deposited Zoro’s swords, along with Hiru, on the table in the room, moving closer to him to survey the scene. “If you wanted it.” 

Zoro’s gaze met yours, and he said nothing for a moment. “First aid kit’s over there,” he finally said, nodding to the table. You moved towards it, opening up the small box to expose supplies of bandages, needles, stitch string, and disinfectant inside. You carried the box over to the bed, sanitizing your hands before carefully parting the folds of Zoro’s shirt. The cloth stuck to skin, coagulating blood making the shirt peel rather than move. Now that his entire torso was bared, though, you could fully inspect his wounds. There were still bandages from Yoru’s cut, all dirtied up now from his other injuries—you’d have to take them off and re-dress them, so he’d be in the bed for thirty minutes at least. 

You turned your attention to the cut by Zoro’s abdomen, deciding it was the most important thing to focus on. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was gushing a steady flow of blood, and you picked up a towel to press against the wound. “Hold,” you instructed, and Zoro’s fingers brushed against yours as he took a hold of the cloth. “Thanks. I’ve got to take your bandages off, then I’ll clean and dress all the wounds. That one down there might need stitches.” 

“How do you know how to do this?” Zoro asked, watching as you unwrapped the previous bandages from around his chest. You were careful to touch his skin as little as possible, distracting yourself with the blood and gauze. 

“My dad,” you answered. You’d spent too many late nights patching up a wound Mihawk had brushed off as unimportant, only to wind up bleeding out on your couch. Zoro raised a brow. 

“Dracule Mihawk gets injured?” 

“Of course he does,” you said with a huff. “Don’t be stupid. He’s a man, just like the rest of you.” The gash from Yoru had fully scabbed over, revealing a long, trembling crust of dark ochre. You finished peeling off all the bandages, and cast them to the side. 

“You know a lot.” 

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” you quipped. You moved away from the desk to fill a bucket with warm water, dipping a cloth into it and squeezing out the excess. You dabbed around Yoru’s scab with the cloth, careful not to break the shell while still cleaning it of any extra gunk. Then you focused on flushing out the other wounds, wiping across his skin and getting all the little nicks on his chest and arms. Zoro didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes boring into your skull, watching you with a hardened intensity that made your insides churn. 

You nudged his hand away, examining the big cut. The rag he was holding had filled up with blood, white cotton dyed red and sodden with liquid. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have lessened. You wiped up all the last of it with your towel, swiping it against the pills of blood that had caught along the waistband of his trousers. Zoro hissed as you came into contact with the wound. “Sorry,” you murmured. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

You frowned at that. “Because it hurt?” 

“I thought you were mad at me,” Zoro said stiffly. You raised your brows. “Since… you thought I was annoyed at you, or whatever.”

“Just because you feel a certain kind of way towards me doesn’t mean I reciprocate the same feelings,” you answered, setting aside your towel after deciding everything had been cleaned out well enough. You picked up another cloth, dabbing this one with some alcohol to disinfect the wound. “This is going to sting,” you warned. 

Zoro’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as you flushed out the wound. His torso clenched, and your eyes fell across his exposed midriff, watching the tight skin that was seemingly sculpted into muscles. You glanced away just a moment later, a dusting of warmth brushing over your cheeks. “On that topic,” you hastened to say, trying to distract yourself from the half-naked man in front of you, “Why were you avoiding me?” 

Zoro let out a sigh, the sound stuttered as he clenched his jaw again when you brushed your towel against his wound. You waited, taking out a fresh cloth to dab at the other nicks on his body. You examined the wound near his left side again. “Stitches.” 

“Great,” Zoro muttered. You ignored him, searching in the kit for some needle and thread. “Can you take the stitches out from your dad’s yet?” 

“Ha ha. You’re going to need those for a few more weeks,” you said, without even looking at the scab to check. “Ask me again later. Yoru cuts are deadly.” 

Zoro let his eyes flutter closed. “It’s a great sword.” 

“Yeah, it is,” you said. You paused from where you were threading the needle, glancing up at Zoro’s face now that you knew he couldn’t catch you staring. He looked so peaceful in this state, eyelashes splayed along his cheeks, dark umber freckles that you hadn’t noticed before splattered across his face. There were dozens of them, skin sun-worn and bearing the marks as proof—constellations of dark brown stars, so similar to his warm, glowing skin it was easy to miss. A five-o’-clock shadow traced around his mouth, and at his left ear, his golden earrings gleamed bright. 

“I don’t feel anything,” Zoro said, and you snapped out of your reverie, fingers fumbling to finish threading your needle. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” you hissed. Zoro snorted.

“Yeah, one I don’t have.” You rolled your eyes, tying off the string and bending down to examine the cut again. It wasn’t too wide—maybe five or six stitches at most. You gave Zoro no warning except for the light brush of your fingers against the wound, and he hissed again. 

You glanced up. “Do you want something to bite on?”

“I’m not a toddler,” Zoro sneered. You mouthed his words mockingly, though you didn’t actually speak them, not wanting him to catch you doing such an immature action. You fixed your gaze back on the wound, free hand resting flat against Zoro’s abdomen to steady you—his skin was warm under your palm, and you expected him to say something, but to your surprise, he didn’t even flinch. 

The first puncture came carefully. Zoro hissed, the sound of a low rumble in his throat as you felt his abdomen clench under your palm. You forced yourself to continue, pulling the thread fully through the skin before moving onto the other side of the wound. You did it again, carefully to keep the string untangled as it ran through Zoro’s flesh. 

“It wasn’t because I was mad at you,” Zoro said abruptly, and you paused, glancing up to look at Zoro’s face. His eyes were still closed, brows contorted tight and mouth bared down into a grimace. “Don’t stop. I wasn’t avoiding you because I was angry. Or because of anything you did.” 

“Why, then?” you asked, lowering your head to continue with your stitches. Zoro took in a sharp breath at the next one, the edges of a scream cutting into his breath but not fully escaping from his throat. You were rubbing a comforting circle into his stomach before you could stop yourself—muscle memory from patching up your dad’s wounds. You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop the motions—Zoro didn’t seem offended by them. 

His voice was raggedy when he spoke again. “Fighting against you. It reminded me of—my friend, from back then. I told you about her.” 

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t stall your actions, running the thread through the hole you’d pricked. “The one you made the promise to?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, the word falling out all in one breath. You fixed the string tight along the wound, fingers splayed across his stomach warning him for the next puncture. He continued speaking despite it, and your needle hovered over his skin. “We were training together—fuck.” 

“Sorry,” you said again, still running your thread through his skin as he heaved out a long, ragged groan from low in his throat. 

“We were training together,” he repeated. “Haven’t done that in a while with a girl. So it—” His voice tapered off in another breathy groan. “Reminded me of her. I got bitchy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said. You were getting close to the end of the wound now, but your actions slowed, just to keep him talking—the words came out all harsh and hesitant, and you got the feeling speaking about his past was a laborious task. Might as well let him have the safety of avoiding your eyes like this while he spoke. “Do I look like her or something?” 

Zoro huffed out a laugh. “Ha. No.” 

“Okay,” you said. You pierced his skin again—he took this one better, muscles clenching as he sucked in hard. You waited until you finished the stitch to speak again. “Are you going to keep avoiding me?”

“No,” Zoro said. His words pierced the air, weighed heavy with a gasp of pain and a hiss, but it still rang sharp in your ears. He eased out a breath, long and soft. “It was unfair. Can’t help it sometimes, that’s all.” 

“That’s fine,” you answered carefully. You threaded one last stitch, both of you mute as you tightened the wound closed with the suture and tied it off. You snipped the string with a pocketknife, using another damp towel to clean up any of the excess blood. “I’m going to dress everything with bandages now. Almost done.” 

“Okay,” Zoro said. You reorganized your supplies, tucking away your stitching things to replace with bandages and dressing pads. You washed your hands again, then returned to bend over Zoro’s torso. When you did, you were surprised to see Zoro’s eyes had opened, soft brown irises boring into yours. You swallowed, feeling the burn of his gaze into your skin as you stared at the skin of his midsection. 

“I’ll do the big one first, then everything else,” you said carefully. You worked in silence, pressing a dressing pad along the wound and tying it off with some gauze to fix it in place. You moved around his body, bandaging up any cuts you deemed worthy until you finally were left with Yoru’s cut. 

It stretched the entire expanse of his torso, from shoulder to hip. It’d been well done, the cut deep but not deep enough to kill as long as someone was fast enough with treatment. You recognized the shape of the cut, the very tip of it thin before Yoru’s mouth caught the skin with the center of his blade. “He did it like this on purpose?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s methodical with most things.” You wrapped gauze around the scab, tightening it up and then finally tying it off by his hip. “I’d keep that on for a few days before replacing it. Keep dressing it for another two weeks or so. It’ll probably start swelling soon, so I can help you drain whatever fluid develops.” 

“I’ll let you know,” Zoro said. He was still watching you with those big brown eyes, and a soft shiver traced down your spine. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for saving me from that pirate earlier,” you said. You surveyed him again, though you were careful not to meet his eyes. A long silence filled the space, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You ducked your head, busying yourself with putting away the first aid kit. The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them— “I like your earrings.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. Nothing else. 

You were pretty sure you liked more than the earrings. You liked the way he fought, even if it scared you sometimes—even if you knew one day he’d probably be able to beat your father. You liked his face; those big brown eyes, soulless at times but holding the world in those glistening irises at others. Those freckles, adorned with the entire galaxy, stars and planets and constellations dotting his cheeks like a mural of life. The way he talked, soft-spoken but utterly real, voice low in his throat, words disturbingly honest. 

You didn’t say so, though. You stuck with the earrings, because those were safer.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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[goddessofmischief]

      RUNNING SCARED, I WAS THERE (YOUNG SHANKS X MIHAWK X READER)

A/N: This is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately. Also, I highly recommend listening to the song linked in the title while you read.

It was the twilight eve of the execution of Gol D. Roger, and sadness ruled your heart, body and soul.

The crew had disbanded, scattering themselves to the seas with little more than fond good-byes. Roger had turned himself in three days earlier. There had been a trial - a rushed, convoluted sham of a trial that you hated every second of, but it didn't matter anymore. At least there would be an end to his suffering.

And at least Buggy and Shanks were with you. Small blessings. You knew that Garp had no real interest in persecuting a bunch of kids like yourselves, but hanging out on a pirate ship in the harbor seemed to be an unwise action all the same. So you'd booked three rooms at a nearby inn, close to the town square, and been disheartened to see that the inn was almost filled with out-of-towners thrilled to witness such a historical event.

Buggy got settled in his room, while Shanks sat down on the bed in yours.

"It's strange," he said. "All of this."

You nodded, unable to look at him.

"Hey, we're going to be fine. You know that, right?"

"I know," you said, and then there was a sudden banging at the door.

You and Shanks exchanged glances, and his hand rested on the sword at his side. The door thundered again.

Gripping your pistol, you approached the door, opening it the smallest crack, and trying not to show surprise at the face that greeted you.

"...Mihawk?"

"I heard that Roger would be executed," said Mihawk, out of breath. "I returned to witness. I had to see you."

"I don't care."

"Please let me come in. I know what I did was terrible. It was terrible. But you have to know that it's not because of lack of love for you, I do love-"

You swung the door all the way open, letting Mihawk in. As you did, you pressed your finger to his lips.

"I don't want to hear it," you said, shaking your head. "Roger dies tomorrow. I'm not interested in exploring what happened between us. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Please-"

Shanks appeared behind you, arm looped around your waist.

"Out, Hawk-Eye," Shanks cautioned, "Or I'll duel you for real this time."

Mihawk stared at you, lip trembling a bit. You had never seen him show so much emotion before.

"Please," he stated again. You were silent. Shanks stared him down.

After a moment, he nodded, did a small bow in your direction, and walked out.

Shanks groaned, turning back to his room.

After a moment of consideration, you stared at the hallway where Mihawk had left, and ran after him.

"Mihawk, wait," you called out, and he turned around immediately, a smile ghosting over his face. "Look, I... what you did hurt me. It did hurt me. But it doesn't matter now. All of this... has made me realize what's important."

"...I'm so glad," he said, trying to speak around the lump in his throat. "Truly."

You smiled, pulling something out of your pocket. He realized with a pang that it was your wedding ring, the one he'd designed for you. You handed it back to him, leaving it in the palm of his hand.

"We were much too young to be married anyway. You were right."

Mihawk nodded, closing his fingers around the ring.

"Would you accept my proposal, again, if we were older?"

"If you asked again... when we are older... I may consider it."

He nearly blushed.

"May we part as friends?" Mihawk offered, hopefully. "I know I do not deserve that much, but-"

"Yes," you agreed softly, reaching your hand out to him. "Friends."

Friends.

You made your way back down the hallway, hesitating in front of two doors: yours, or Shanks. You twisted the doorknob on his, wondering if he had left it unlocked for you.

He had.

"Hey," he called out sleepily, sounding completely unsurprised. "You alright?"

You nodded, twisting your hands.

"I don't want to be alone. Do you?"

"No," he said, and the night faded to black.

...

When Shanks got up that morning, he thought of the last time he'd spoken to Roger. Just the two of them.

"It's yours," Roger said. "Our ship. You're the oldest. You're the one who has to look after them. Keep them from killing each other. Keep Buggy from killing you."

Shanks was at a loss for words, and could only bow his head in gratitude.

"One more thing," said Roger. "Another gift and a confession. I never married the woman I loved. I never will."

Shanks could see the toll this was taking on the older man, could see the grief drawn across his face. Roger took something out of a drawer and held it out to Shanks.

"This is Rouge's ring. Now it's yours."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to, Shanks. All I'm saying is that if there is a girl, one day... and you don't want to let her slip through your fingers... you have this."

Roger held the ring out again, which was strung from a loose chain. Shanks bent his head, and Roger draped the ring over his shoulders. Shanks tucked it under his clothes, where it could lie unseen, and wait.

Shanks knew then that he had so much to say to Roger, too much, and there would not be enough time, not even if he had a thousand years. He wanted to tell him everything, and have Roger tell him what to do in return. But he couldn't.

"Thank you," Shanks managed, and then he felt he had said enough.

...

It was a warm day with clouds when the crowd huddled in to view the execution.

You clung to Shanks' arm, your hand shielding your eyes, while Buggy stood several paces behind you. Mihawk was somewhere in the crowd, too, watching, wearing a new coat - new, at least, to you - embroidered with amaryllis flowers. You had thought to go and stand beside him, but you realized this felt much more right. Shanks had never abandoned you. You were sure, in that moment, he never would.

"It's about to happen," Shanks murmured.

"Oh," you whispered, just 'oh.' You had seen people die, but never someone you loved.

You buried your face in Shanks' shoulder, unable to face these jeering, spectating people around you, gleefully witnessing the pain and destruction and ruination of your lives.

But wait, a pause. And it was then that Roger uttered those words, that speech, the thing that incited the Great Pirate Era. The thing that broke the world, and made you proud.

And then, as the previously laughing crowd stampeded away around you, desperately taking to the water like fish, the act was done.

Roger was gone. A sin had been committed by the world today that could not be forgiven. The sky had, fittingly, turned dark and rainy.

"Let's go home," Shanks said, quietly, and it was then you realized that your face was still buried in his shoulder. He didn't attempt to dislodge you.

"I don't know where home is."

"Course you do. It's in the harbor now."

The Oro Jackson, Roger's ship, the ship you had lived on for the past decade. Why didn't it feel like home, like it had before? Because everyone was gone?

Not everyone. Not Shanks, and not Buggy.

Mihawk, you realized, was still planted where he had stood before, unable to dislodge his gaze from you.

"Hey, Hawk-Eyes," Shanks called out, beginning to steer you towards the ship. "You heading out?"

"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Yes, I should be going."

Mihawk nodded to you as Shanks wrapped his coat around your shoulders.

"We'll see each other again," you whispered, tears pricking your eyes. "I believe that."

He gave you a rare smile, and then he was gone.

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[damndamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part vi)

If Princess Rhaenyra were to be self-indulgent, or perhaps someone willing hoped to spoil her for wishes, she would only ask for one. Not a ship full of gold or a thousand dragon eggs would satisfy her. The one wish was her children. To keep her children happy and safe, and where they would be unassailed would be in their mother's arms. And when it concerned her only daughter, Princess Aemma, she did not wish to be parted with a single silver hair on that girl's head.

But such was the necessity of marriage. Aemma and Aemond's would be no different.

The Red Keep was obscured by a mist of sorrow that afternoon. Prince Aemond watched like a hawk from nearby as the Dragonstone Targaryens began to take their leave. He couldn't bear to see Aemma this way, sharing goodbyes with her family, out of sorts and close to tears. There was a frisson of jealousy, how Aemma had so much to turn back to—it was stabbing castigation to even think it—if something were to have unwelcome repercussions for them. Be it this voyage or their matrimony, Aemma had indemnity in her times of desperation. Aemond had nothing except fire and blood. His family would merely use him as a weapon to wage against in an oncoming war.

Out of the disquiet, Prince Jacaerys flanked Aemond's side silently, his hand tightly gripping the pommel of his sword. Aemond set his teeth, continuing to vigilantly stare at Aemma, who was circulated around her family like a pitcher of wine.

Jace's voice had a sharp edge. "My delirious sister, so caught up in outworn fantasies that my mother allowed to fester, held her tongue when I forced an apology. She believes that eloping to wed you is right and that flouting expectations to do what she wants is justified."

Aemond kept his eye on Aemma, summoning back his control.

"I respect that," Jace sighed.

His amazement only slightly caused him to dart a glance.

"Aemma has been toiling with the grief of losing our father for far too long. If this puts her at ease, I can not refuse. She is most precious to me," Jace said. Then he faced Aemond's tense eye. "I hope you look after my sister well. There should be no reason for her to suffer on the broadside. She loves you deeply."

Jace thought of him as a callous monster. Perhaps he was, but Aemma was the exception. No matter what, his fondness for her never wavered. It even outweighed the contempt he'd spent dwelling in all these years. He'd rather spend an eternity in pain than be hated by her.

Aemond had it in himself to bow his chin vaguely. "Safe travels... nephew."

Meanwhile, Aemma watched the interaction between Jace and Aemond in silent satisfaction. Jace eventually met her eyes, his expression softening, but made no move to come toward her. It would take some time for his rage to wane, and she could wait all he wanted. Jace nodded at her once, lips slightly tilted. Aemma's smile nearly broke into her ears. Perhaps the wait would be shorter than expected.

Her mother ambushed her once more to press a deluge of wistful kisses over Aemma's cheek. Her little brothers, Luke and Joff, simply refused to let go of her, imploring her to make promises of her return. It was Luke who held onto her the longest, the first to tattle to their mother when she slipped off from the Sea Dragon Tower, now wishing she stayed a little while longer.

"I'm going to miss your lullaby," Luke murmured sadly. Aemma had sung that cradlesong to each of her brothers but Luke was yet to grow out of it.

She laid a soothing kiss on his head. "You could sing it to the new babe for me."

It wasn't until Daemon playfully teased the lot of them for monopolizing the new bride that they broke away from her.

Aemma leapt up to swallow Daemon's shoulders in an inflexible embrace. He was the only one who, in every respect, held her assertive independence in high regard. He saw her firmness of purpose and didn't write it off as unrealistic, instead urged her to remain unshakeable.

"You forget yourself, little terror," Daemon told her, an augury lacing his voice. "Our one true queen will require her heir by her side when she ascends the throne."

"Jacaerys is her heir," she stated.

"If you say so."

Aemma let his words hang in the air, feeling something amiss. Daemon merely winked and headed for the Dragonpit.

When the last of the Blacks had left the court, the Keep had reverted back to stillness. There was no hum of uncertainty in the air anymore. No one held their breath to see if anyone had let the axe fall. The calm before the storm, so unnatural and false, it seeped in like a craze waiting to flare.

While Aemond oversaw his usual princely burdens, Aemma stayed by Helaena's side, dispelling herself from the sights of those around the palace. Aemma saw Helaena as a ray of sunshine, a safe harbour amid the raging ocean. She talked only when she saw fit, or otherwise, she would pipe up with enigmas that would confound Aemma. There's a beast beneath the boards, she'd say. A piece of her silvern dream shines in the cave, she'd say. She meant no harm, she was simply expressing herself to someone who cared enough to accompany her.

Nonetheless, Aemma sensed a subtle estrangement from Aemond for a little while. Upon daybreak, as was routine, the couple broke bread together whereas Aemond simply went forth without a word or glance, lost to his thoughts. She attempted to regale him, took his hand, and led him to the Keep's secret tunnels directed into Flea Bottom, but he one-upped up her with a glorious morning of twisted bedsheets and hushed moans. He loved the intimacy with her—it wasn't mindless fucking, he wanted to make love. He wanted memories. He wanted more. It only got better with every effort.

"My queen," he had whispered to her when she rode him. She was too spellbound to care. "My true queen."

Aemma, breathless, had fallen over on his chest, laughing aloud. His spend was left thick in her as he rolled her over on her back, impassioned into another silencing, deep kiss. Aemond understood the consequences of spilling his seed into her, and how it would complicate matters.

He did ask her, for precaution's sake.

Abruptly, dread rushed into her expression. "Do you think I am with child right now?"

Aemond rubbed her waist soothingly. "Think nothing of it, my love. It's only been a few days—I will see that the maesters brew you moon tea on the morrow."

"Tea?"

"It'll rid you of... unplanned circumstances." He brushed her hair from her brows. "We will be more careful next time. I'd like you all to myself before our babes keep you busy."

She leaned on her elbow, amused. "Babes in plural?"

"So eager," he jested, poking her cheek. "I am a terribly greedy man, Aemma, with an insatiable appetite. I want to enjoy every last inch of you."

"Except you," she dug her playful fist into his hardened chest, "are the one with the probing inches."

"My, my, princess." He chuckled. "Such filth from a sweet mouth."

She roamed her lips around his jaw, ghosting kisses over his skin. "You love my sweet mouth."

He caught hers between his lips, biting down on the plumpness. "Very much."

It couldn't be disenchantment, surely not. But to be suddenly cut off from his unending promises of travels and pursuits for the past few weeks once the good deed was done, spurred a sourness in her mouth. Like a beautiful flame that died out from burning too bright. The map of the Shadowlands he gifted her started to gather dust on her dresser.

An expectant Aemma sat by Aemond's feet on a brief encounter before bed, voicing out a list she had spread out on the carpet.

"Once we reach Pentos, I wish to smell spice flowers and taste saffron. See crabs on the sand. And swim in the warm seas." She let out an excited shriek. "Paradise awaits!"

He unseeingly smiled at her, too immersed in thought, and gently stroked the back of her head.

Aemma imagined Aemond as an accurate Targaryen prince in his prime. This man, clothed in all-black, not a silver strand out of place, honing a warrior's grace, belonged to her, that much nobody in this realm could deny. Even if the mere shape of him lounging on his chair in front of the fire made her unreasonably nervous, her heart distending to her throat. His storm-ridden eye watched the burning embers in the fireplace, jaw taut, rolling something small on his palm. A coin, perhaps.

She crossed her palms over his knee and rested her chin on them. She gazed up at him, through her lashes. His uncanny distance continued to gnaw at her mind.

"I almost shiver at your cold eyes. Have I said something?"

He brushed her cheek silently, alternating between his knuckles and fingertips. "Of course not. I've had to tie up some loose ends regarding our departure from the continent."

Aemma simply tilted her head. She didn't need to say anything else; her presence and her touch were reassurance enough. He held her wedding-scarred hand to his lips, garnishing her long fingers in kisses.

"Aemond."

He hummed in response, that soft dulcet voice stirring him on. He eventually glanced at her when he noticed her silence. Her dark eyes shone with unshed tears, gripping a terrorizing fist around his neck.

"Aemma," he whispered his alarm, stroking her jaw softly. "You're breaking my heart, dearest. What is it?"

She hid her eyes in her palm, shaking her head. Of course, she would never let anyone see her cry, and Aemond didn't compel her either.

"I have been awfully selfish, my friend." Her voice was a mere rasp. "You should not have to renounce your title at court or your Faith to suit my needs. Relinquish your good life here. Helaena, the children. Perhaps we have been unwise."

He snickered, somewhat appeased. "In that case, I have succeeded you in triplicate."

She peeked at him with reddened eyes. "What?"

He dragged his fingers through her hair, from the roots to the ends, slowly. "Marrying you the way I did? It was the act of a possessive, reckless man. I craved you madly, and in my desperation, I claimed you as my own before the Valyrian gods."

She sniffed. "Yet I agreed to it."

"I suggested it," he triumphed. "Now I have you here, before me. You are my real future, Aemma." He ran a thumb across her fingertips. "And you've been bearing it up for so long. Between this delicate grasp." He touched a line down her forehead to her nose. "In this visionary mind."

A side of her lips lifted along with her spirits.

He cupped her face between both his palms, staring her in the eye, complete with resolve and love. "My world is you and for you. Nothing will ever change that."

Having said that, unbeknownst to most, Aemond was eventually made aware of King Viserys', his wayward father's, much-expected demise. At that moment, Aemond didn't care about the whys or why not. He had never felt so close to absolute authority, he nearly could taste the sweetness of vindication. A step closer to apotheosis. An unstoppable power on the back of Vhagar.

The small council conferred their questions of settling the succession until the arrival of a bloody dawn, while it was evident that their only plans shined a light on the usurpation of the throne. The Iron Throne would pass to the trueborn son of Viserys, Aegon, his drunken cunt of a brother.

This was, of course, backed by Ser Criston Cole's constant reminders of the viper of Dragonstone and her brood of half-breeds. "If the princess were to rule, her bastard daughter would reign after," he had claimed. "Are we to give the Red Keep to the brothel keepers?"

So it was no surprise to discover Ser Criston that same night, spoiled by his retribution, his sword drawn to the neck of the snoring princess, prepared to draw first blood. Poor prognosis on his part for Prince Aemond waited in the darkness, his dagger primed, aimed at Cole's jugular. As he predicted, the first threat to Aemma's life.

"You would murder your own, Cole," Aemond said, his voice a gust in the night. He despised that he spoke of realities, of Aemma's bastardy, and if there was a single justification there, it rang true in his outlasting devotion for her. Bastard or not, he had promised that girl his future, and she had promised him hers.

Aemma stirred over her pillow, blind to the waiting blade. Aemond's heart sank like a stone in his chest as the weight of that realization bore down on him—he had come terrifyingly close to losing her forever.

"She's my own as much as the scum beneath my boot," Cole spat. "I should've strangled her in that crib. Compassion got the worst of me."

Aemond's dagger pressed deeper into Cole's neck. "You dare utter heresy before your prince."

"You endorse the whoresons now, my prince?"

"Aemma is my greatest privilege. I will not see it squandered by the likes of you."

"The longer she breathes, the further she brings me disrepute."

When Cole glanced at him, Aemond felt bile rise to his throat. Those eyes—Aemma's exquisite eyes—stared back at him with nothing short of contempt. It gave him a taste of what would come if he were to ever forsake her.

Aemond spoke each word separately, a quiet command. "Sheath your steel before I am tempted to spill your sullied blood over my wife."

Cole's hand fisted against his hilt to consider the consequences and lowered his weapon. His scheming eyes never left Aemma as if he were thinking twice about using that pillow to end it for good. Aemond silently dragged him out of her apartments by his chest plate and shoved him away.

"Next time you cross me, I'll open your fucking throat and leave you for the crows to feast," Aemond warned and shunted the doors close.

The signal the end of King Viserys' reign, the bells of King's Landing tolled nearly three days after his death. Ravens flew to all distant houses and kingdoms, carrying the announcement of Aegon's ascension—one that Aemond had toiled hard to disgustedly bring to bear—and knights of the kingdom galloped on the streets, spreading the word to the smallfolk. There were exclamations, screams, weeps and hoots whilst nearly a hundred thousand of the city dwellers were escorted to the Dragonpit for the coronation.

Remorse unfurled like a waking babe in Aemond's stomach as he stood beside his sister and mother on the dais, under the towering dome. His mind was far away, with Aemma, possibly taking to the wind on their ship. His heart was torn between power and adventure, vacillating between duty and love. What would Aemma think of him if she saw him up here, partaking in treason against her mother, unfaithful to their pursuits? It felt like his one good eye was being ripped out by needles.

"You should've left with her," Heleana hummed ominously; quietly. Aemond found her eyes, seeing nothing but broken links.

His right arm remained empty, where he was supposed to proudly embrace his wife before the masses. It almost seemed as if he were invalidating their wedding's occurrence. Instead, Her Grace had ordered Princess Rhaenys and Princess Aemma's doors to be bolted and guarded until the coronation was over.

Within the Keep's Holdfast, Aemma was anything but oblivious. From frenzied rage, a strange sort of clarity arose. Her vengeful mother and her even more vindictive husband—they would rain fire and blood over this city. There was never truly a home for her here, not even when she was younger. This was a land for the covetous, so what was Aemond's part in this? Had they forced him there? Dangled her life as bait to tug at his strings like a puppet? Or... was he all too willing to see his usurper brother ascend the throne?

From her balcony, she could witness the festive celebrations within the Dragonpit. Before she could broil into thoughts of Aemond's knowledge of this happening, the door to the Maegor's tunnels in her room shuddered open.

Ser Erryk Cargyll appeared, a shining knight robbed of acclaim, concealing simmering rage beneath his white cloak. He had defected from the Kingsguard to support the dragon queen's claim.

"Princess," he said urgently, taking off his helmet. His hair was slicked with sweat. "The heir's safety is of the highest priority. I must see you to Dragonstone immediately."

Aemma stepped away, in dire straits. Her heart was with Aemond, she couldn't leave without an explanation. Not when the weight of their promises loomed over her head.

So she asked the only thing that mattered to her—"My husband."

"I fear he has withheld information from you, princess. Prince Aemond has lent his support in this treachery," Erryk disclosed.

"No." Aemma was left winded, slouching into herself. A sharp pain started between her eyes.

Of course, she tried to desperately justify his accusation. "He must've been deceived. Tricked by his mother—it's not like him. I know Aemond, I have all his life."

"Princess, please," Erryk interfered, more pleading now. "A fishing boat waits for us at the postern door. If we hurry, we can make it to your home before nightfall."

"No," she said again, shaking her head. "I must speak with him first."

Impatience broke the knight. "Your husband is a traitor, and I will not stand by while his family dishonours your mother's birthright!" Armour clinking, he marched up to her and seized her arm. "I am sorry, princess, but there is nothing left for you here anymore."

Tears blurred her vision, his face twisting to sorrow. A million hooks sunk into her endless promise and balanced her on a well-oiled rope—one side was her loyalty to her kin, and the other was her future with Aemond. Her life hung on a balance.

"If I come, I'll be betraying him," she whispered.

"He has betrayed you," Erryk triumphed. "He chose his family. You must choose yours."

X

Panting hard and dazed in senses—Aemond ran, his feet kissing the ground. Meleys breaking loose from the Dragonpit with Princess Rhaenys on her back was an admonition; to him, to his marriage, to his ideals. If the blocks had fallen right then Aemma was at his crossroads. She'd see him as what he was now: a turncoat, another power-hungry madman, a renegade.

And it would only be hate. He wouldn't stand it, not from her.

When he reached Aemma's room, he did so through Maegor's tunnels. His defences went up when he heard another set of footfalls from the corridors of her floor. He instinctively drew his sword.

Like a kick in his teeth, a flustered Aemma made the scene by Ser Erryk's side. Aemond swore his heart fragmented in his chest, plunging the sharp edges into whatever was nearby. He faltered in his step when he saw her disguise. He had finally done it—he had driven her away. He had driven his future away.

Aemma's doe eyes widened, mounds of consolation surging into them. She twisted her arm out of Erryk's and rushed to him in a heartbeat. A flicker of hope reeled in his distraught when she flung her arms around him to pull him close. He didn't hesitate to drop his sword and crush her to him as if she were slipping away. She would, and he would not be able to stop it.

"I don't care for what you did. I don't, it is mere politics. Let's leave, my friend," she dissolved into pleas and hysterics. "Let's take Vhagar and leave this instant. We don't need this. We have each other."

Uncaring of his audience, he pressed his face into her warmth. His favourite spot in the world. No place compared. One last time before he destroyed them. His whole world, the air in his lungs.

"Aemma," he murmured.

"Come with me." She dropped to her heels, wiped the tears from her eyes before he could see and took his hand into hers. She forced a tenacious smile on her face. "We will find our own way to Pentos. It's about time we left. We've already said our goodbyes, let's—"

He clasped her chin to interrupt her. Aemma's remained confounded underneath his anguished stare. He tried to channel all of his love, hope, dreams and promises when he set his forehead against hers. She stared back, uncomprehending, into his eye.

"Come with me," she mouthed again quietly.

"Take her," Aemond announced to Ser Erryk, his voice a ragged growl.

"What?" A broken whisper. Awareness seeped into her and it trickled acid into his veins. He could see her break, no lover or husband has to witness this ever. "No. No, I—I will remain beside you—"

"She is not safe here anymore. Make sure my half-sister knows that my goodwill saved her heir and my wife from certain death," he continued, pulling away from her. His body went numb, he couldn't feel anything even when she tightly fisted her hands at his collar.

"Aemond, no. Don't do this," she objected weakly, tears gathering under her eyes. You promised me, she tried to say through her trembling lips.

He circled her wrist, feeling her panicked heartbeat beneath her skin. "I have not forgotten our promise," he murmured, only to her. "Wait for me. Please."

She seemed to relax a little, her fingers easing their grip. She got his hand instead, squeezing it tight. She seemed to condense all her resolve and understanding into it, just enough for him to let her go. I love you, he thought. I love you, I love you.

Distance returned to his gaze and he nodded once at Ser Erryk. Swallowing down nothing, the knight ushered Aemma toward the exit of the winding staircase. She wouldn't stop looking back, stop sparing him the hurt, but he was doomed to the bitter sight of Aemma's tears and reluctance to leave his side.

Aemond pinned his quivering hands to his back and watched her go. If he was to snap, he would do so in private. A deep and unfamiliar pain clawed at his chest, emerging at the sight of her heading farther and farther away from him.

There was a blur of silver hair behind the wall, heartsick brown eyes then nothing.

X

[bi-dykes]

Flexing on ya with that last meme 💪

Note: I’m aware that Willow is pan, not bi, but the text was the same for the meme format, so instead I added the pan hearts on her half of the meme to ensure I don’t erase her identity <3

[baggebythesea]

What if character X became She-Ra?

Adora - the show

Glimmer - All the powers she ever dreamt on PLUS the political power as defacto leader of the princess alliance PLUS the one everyone looks up to for moral judgement calls and the one everyone expects to save them from all the ills of the world. I'm sure that responsibility and call to her overwhemling hubris won't target her crippling insecurities or anythying.

Bow - Wait, who's that masked stranger? It's BOW-RA! HERE TO SAVE YOU, CITIZEN. Plays really well at defence but not the offensive force for the Princess Alliance that Adora was. Also, you know how stressed he is to be the Friend Guy that tries to keep everything together? Now he's the friend-guy with the entire WORLD.

Catra - The Horde is fucking WRECKED in a week. Hordak is dead. Catra sits on the throne. Shadow Weaver… bows for Cat-Ra in deepest respect. She tells her that she was wrong to treat Catra the way she did. She always, secretly, respected Catra. She… YOINK! SWORD STOLEN! HAH, CAN'T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT.

Shadow Weaver - Run. Just run.

Angella - Finally she can keep everyone safe. The sound of cannons outside the wall? If she tries REALLY hard sometimes she can block that sound out.

Micha - Would turn out pretty much like Adora, I think.

Lonnie - the war is over in a day. I hope your opinion of "peace" is "magically enforced military dictatorship", because that's what you are getting - regardless of which side she is on.

Entrapta - SCIENCE! Forget heroics, someone just handed ENTRAPTA the master admin password for the entire PLANET! She can run Doom on this thing. Just look out for when she starts overclocking.

Mermista - SEA-RA! (Being a hero is too much like work, once the heroics grow stale. But everything considered the war wouldn't be TOO different from the main show. Also - Sea Hawk would be even more insufferable, singing her praise).

Perfuma - Good vibes for EVERYONE. She would try SO HARD to find peaceful solutions, but once in awhile give in to the temptation of hitting people with flowers.

Frosta - WINTER'S BANE WILL PUNCH EVERYONE UNTIL THE GROWNUPS STOP BEING IDIOTS ABOUT EVERYTHING!

Scorpia - Oh, gosh... um, sorry about breaking stuff?

Hordak - On no, magic is heretic. Not even Horde Prime… can… stand… against it… punches a hole in reality, stomps up to the Velvet Glove "HI FATHER-BROTHER, ARE YOU FINALLY PROUD OF ME?"

[coderedblood]

So I love She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. It is beautiful, and I adore both how it handles relationships and redemption. No relationship is a perfect fairytale, but a plate of spaghetti; messy but wonderful. And redemption can come to anyone, as long as you’re willing to work for it. And sometimes it takes a lifetime and sometimes you aren’t forgiven, and all of that is okay. (Once Upon A Time also does it in an exemplary fashion with Regina Mills, who may’ve been the blueprint for complicated redemption in modern television.)

Anyway, I love the show, and its relationships, and today I’m doing…

ANGEL’S TOP 5 SHE-RA SHIPS!!

5. Scorfuma (Scorpia x Perfuma)

This ship is so wholesome. It is a huge refresher in SPOP; yes, like I said, the relationships here are worthwhile, but also difficult. Scorfuma is not that ship. It’s a beautiful femme lesbian falling in love at first sight with a magnificent butch lesbian. Another reason I love SPOP is because it subverts character stereotypes; Scorpia is butch as all hell and I wish she were real, because she is soft, sensitive, kind and sweet. Perfuma is assertive, self-confident, speaks her mind and does whatever she thinks is right regardless of what others think. (Although, she’s far from perfect and I don’t like how she treats Entrapta for a lot of the series.) Perfuma sees Scorpia for the wonderfully good person she is, and she falls in love with Scorpia for it. They are similar people, in which they’re both kind and sweet, but they are also noticeably different people. My mom says that a couple cannot be too similar or too different otherwise they won’t work, and Scorfuma is a perfect example of her wisdom.

4. Spinnetossa (Spinnerella x Netossa)

Spinnetossa should be every married couple’s endgame. I am sad that they didn’t get more screentime or lines, because they have the ideal marriage (next to the Addamses from The Addams Family and the Belchers from Bob’s Burgers and every marriage counselor should have these three couples in their waiting rooms as the couples to be like). This is a couple who loves and respects each other, and who are (rightfully, hehe) obsessed with each other. My favorite thing about them is their devotion to each other - as much as they wanna save the universe and magic, they are each other’s primary goal. They want to be together and want to keep each other safe and happy above all else. My favorite moment is where Spinnerella wins their bot-slaying contest and instead of getting annoyed, Netossa happily kisses her wife and calls her “my girl”. MELT LIKE 🧊 BABY!

3. Seamista (Mermista x Sea Hawk)

Oh my. If Spinnetossa are obsessed with each other, then Seamista is the definition of insanity. Sea Hawk is not immune to the flaws of Mermista, he loves her for all she is and celebrates her, singing her praises and building her up even if it just seems like silly simping (need me a person like that). Mermista is not immune to the positives of Sea Hawk even if she doesn’t act like it. She knows him to be a moral, kind, devoted, loving, caring and affectionate man, and shows it accordingly even if it seems to annoy her. (If it really did, you think they’d be a couple? 😉 ) She loves him, and I hate how people say she’s abusive to him. If their genders were flipped, it would be the definition of the gentle girl, brooding boy trope. Mermista has a whole kingdom (a crumbling one as she adds) on her shoulders, it would get to anyone! She appreciates Sea Hawk for sticking by and loving her, and they obviously care about each other very much.

2. Glimbow (Glimmer x Bow)

Glimbow is childhood friends turned romantic partners done RIGHT! Originally, I didn’t see it, but the hints were always there and they weren’t hints. They are legitimately friends but imo every good romantic relationship begins with and maintains friendship as the base. They go through hell together, with the loss of their parents (which Bow finds his and Glimmer finds hers, but for awhile, they’re alone together), an invasion and attack caused by Glimmer, and regaining magic in the universe. This ship shows that apologizing and working towards forgiveness is important part of any relationship. Glimmer will do anything to fix her mistake, and Bow forgives her because he loves her for every part of her, and deep down knows her guilt will always be the price she pays for that mistake. I love this ship for these reasons.

1. Entrapdak (Entrapta x Hordak)

My favorite ship in SPOP and it is above and beyond an ideal relationship for me. Like Glimbow, they were friends before they were lovers, but they wholeheartedly accept each other from the get-go. It isn’t about accepting flaws and positives - Entrapta sees Hordak as beautiful and wonderful because of his imperfections and she adores all of that in him, while Hordak worships Entrapta (oh you know he does) because she is the first person to accept him so readily for who he is. Not as a clone or a tool, as a person. He accepts her autism and immediately knows how brilliant and creative she is. They are constantly on each other’s minds as each other’s best friends, and they fall in love because of their imperfections. Just how they like it.

[barbex]

happy Friday to you <3 I'd love to see: “come here” *leaps into lover’s arms for a kiss* for any couple you feel inspired to write <3

Thank you for tonight's @dadrunkwriting prompt. A little Isabela x Hawke story.

---

Isabela scans the post of Jader for the tenth times in the last 15 minutes. The crow's nest isn't her usual place, but as long as the Dancing Siren lies in port, she might as well use the higher vantage point to look over the busy port. It also gives her an excellent view of her crew down on deck. Which she likes to remind them of, sometimes.

"Oi, Vollen. You call that coiling a rope?" She yells down, grinning at Vollen jumping like a schoolboy caught at picking his nose.

"I'll do it again, captain," he yells up to her, picking up the rope again. 

"You better," Isabela says, more to herself. The crew is good, she doesn't expect any trouble. But they need reminders, occasionally. She watches the deck for a while, just to make sure that everyone knows what they're supposed to be doing and that they actually do it. The deck looks good, freshly scrubbed and sanded. She should probably let them go for shore leave soon. 

As she glances back to the port, something catches her eye. A rider on a horse. Not that horses are so unusual, but still, few people ride a horse directly towards the ships. Horses are nervous creatures and a spooked horse among cargo, sailors, and ropes, spells disaster. 

This horse seems to be calm, though. Extremely calm, actually, not even baulking at a wooden box escaping the netting and crashing down right next to them. Isabela looks at the rider. They wear a long leather coat, their face hidden. One hand rests on the saddle, only loosely holding the reins, the other strokes over the horse's neck. A calm rider and a calm horse. In front of the Dancing Siren, the horse stops and the rider looks up, directly at Isabela. 

"Hello, captain. Permission to come on board?"

That voice. So familiar. Could be a problem, she's made plenty of enemies in her life. Isabela climbs down, jumping onto the deck and puts her hand on the railing. This is her ship. Nobody will take it away from her.

"I don't let just anybody come on board of my ship."

The rider slides off the horse, whispering to it, and ties the reins to a pole. It doesn't look like a good knot, Isabela would never accept that kind of knotwork on her ship. The rider steps towards the plank and bows, red hair spilling forward from the hood. As they rise again, they throw the hood back and Isabela can finally see their face.

"Hawke?"

She still has that stupid red streak of kaddis on her nose, and she grins like a cat who caught the fish. "Captain Isabela, may I come on board?"

"You damn fart of a mabari!" Isabela holds out her arms. "Come here, you."

With a laugh, Hawke runs up the plank, and throws herself into Isabela's arms. She laughs, Isabela laughs, and then their lips find each other and then it's just the two of them, holding each other. 

"Maker, I've missed you," Hawke says, at last relaxing her urgent hold on Isabela.

"I've missed you too." Isabela watches her, wondering where they stand. The wind never blew in the same direction for both of them, but winds can change over time. "What's your plan?"

Hawke presses another kiss on Isabela's cheek. "Isa, love, can Fish and I stay on your ship?"

"Fish?"

Hawke gestures to the pier, where her horse has pulled the knot open and has his head inside of a bag of grains. "That's her name, Fish." 

"A horse named Fish, and you want her to come on my ship?"

Hawke uses her best puppy eyes on Isabela. "Please?"

"You think your horse can handle the open sea and storms?"

A dark shadow passes over Hawke's face. "This horse doesn't even flinch when breaches to the fade open right next to her with demons pouring out, she'll be fine."

There's a story here that Isabela wants to hear. And even if there wasn't a story... she wants Hawke to stay.

"Well, let's see how you landlubbers do on my ship." 

"Oi, Fish," Hawke calls to the horse. "Get up here."

There's something funny about watching a horse walk up a plank. It makes Isabela smile. And when she looks at Hawke, she smiles even more.

[call-me-double-trouble]

I have polls now!!!