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turtletaubwrites · 4 months ago

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Numbers Game ~ Chapter 38

I Like Those Odds

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 5.7k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Fly (feat. Super Cat) ~ Sugar Ray | Waves ~ Dean Lewis

Summary: Tonight is the last "First Date." The Hunters each get their moment in the spotlight, while you get to know the royal family that's been trying to win you.

Ch. 37 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!

Author's Note: Heeyyyy, look at that. Still a hermit, but fictional dialogue has to count for something 😅 I hope y'all enjoy this one, there's a lot of things in here 🥰

Dark Content Warning: I haven't marked any dark content for this chapter, but it's full of villains, and the plot is doing things. Please remember that this story has and will always contain dark content and themes.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for current OP plotlines!!! As we get further into/past Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small or vague details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

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

Ch. 37 Recap:

Buggy and Crocodile languished as the date with the CEO of Galley La began. Buggy imagined what he would do if reader was truly happy, while Crocodile fought not to let his rage spill onto the only lover he had left by his side.

Shanks confronted his enemy again, but no matter how villainous he tried to act under the constraints of the hunt's rules, Iceburg gave him no ground.

Reader let herself enjoy the date with Mr. Iceburg, only to discover that he came there to save her from her Uncle's wicked plans. He revealed the guilt he felt over not checking in on her after her father died, and that he looked into her previous loves when he became suspicious of why she hadn't taken over the company yet.

Reader convinced her favorite shipwright that the only safe way for him to help her would be to marry her, and she was happy to learn that it could be more than a marriage of convenience when he accepted her desire for intimacy.

Reader was not able to hold onto those feelings of hope after the date ended, crying herself to sleep. Then breakfast came, and Iceburg revealed to her family that part of his motivation to marry her would be to gain the resources needed to help save Water 7 from the storm that plagued it. She decided to face that fear later, after she survived the hunt.

I Like Those Odds

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The feel of that charming smile on his own lips was starting to burn, but Shanks kept it up. He’d fucked up too many times since greed had taken him over. Since he’d stolen those stolen clues to the One Piece from the rookie that he’d forgotten about the second he imagined Buggy by his side again.

Always been a fucking villain.

“So, Emperor Shanks, how are you enjoying this hunt for true love? Are you planning to take your new bride to find the One Piece for your honeymoon?”

“What can I say,” he flirted with the reporter, hating how much he enjoyed the way her skin flushed under his attention. “I’m here to find myself a Queen.”

The courtyard seemed to shake beneath the weight of so many leeches sighing, their pleasure like sticky heat on his skin.

Sylvad had announced that there’d be no hunt today since the last, first date would take place this evening. Instead, he forced each hunter under the microscope, letting his greedy audience soak them all in.

Y/N sat between Cedrick and her sister, a soft smile never leaving her face while her lunch remained untouched before her. That wounded star just gazed at her hunters, and Shanks could feel those empty eyes stripping him bare, exposing him more than the massive screens against the manor.

Shanks’ shitty smile was blown up beside another screen that showed reels of the hunt. He had to fight not to stare at all the pathetic, desperate, and wicked moments the snails had captured.

His failures kept playing on a loop.

“Were you expecting to find such fierce competition?”

The Emperor’s smile deepened at the sight of his failure from last night. Luckily it was distant, but he could see his own useless rage while he leaned toward his enemy, and his eyes flicked toward the man in the moment.

His enemy’s face was still as cold and immovable as his stupid name.

“I enjoy a challenge,” Shanks nodded at Iceburg before winking at the reporter.

The girl shook herself after biting her lip, tugging her newsboy cap down a bit while the villain laid eyes on his prey again.

The wounded star was still smiling.

“I always win when it counts.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

“He’s there to help her…”

Buggy had braced himself for his star’s pleasure, held his breath through her rage and emptiness, until his voice came out soft, unbelieving, while Crocodile’s warmth never left him.

The man not known for his patience had waited so quietly, afraid his voice would break things again. Y/N’s pain was too sharp when her old lover’s betrayals were revealed, but his little clown shared her painful story, as though giving him a target to focus that rage on.

“More people to add to our list.”

“She thought I’d be like them,” Buggy stretched, removing himself from Crocodile’s lap so he could let pieces of him shake around the suite, hands flapping and tapping, but nothing could shake these feelings out of him. “Those assholes gave her up for ShitFuck’s money. She’s so…”

“We’ll find them,” his scarred lover promised, stamping out his cigar as though he could burn it into the flesh of his enemies from the comfort of this pretty loveseat that could barely hold him.

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Numbers had gotten you through so many boring events, so many mind-numbing parties and dates.

You rarely did it on purpose, but you’d often catch yourself counting, adding, multiplying. So many random things to count, to figure out, to focus on. It was relaxing, something to do while you kept that Sylvad smile on your face. Especially since you decided to keep your locket hidden today, sitting against your skin under the fabric of the dress he’d chosen.

Uncle had looked like he might snatch it from you yesterday when you were fidgeting with it in front of the crowd, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken away something that soothed you.

So, without that warm metal beneath your fingers to drag back and forth, or to flip over and under the chain like a coin over your fingertips, you gave in to numbers to keep you sane.

~~~🌲~~~

One.

“How are you feeling about your odds, Prince Ichiji,” Chinode asked, the young reporter seeming a bit too excited to be interviewing your suitors.

“It’s not a question,” the red-haired prince bragged, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm onto his knee while he gazed at you. “Y/N will be a Vinsmoke soon.”

~~~🌲~~~

Two. He should be ‘four’ though. I wonder why their ‘three’ didn’t come to woo me?

“You’re the last to have your first date,” Chinode smiled, just a hint of tease in her voice. A dangerous game. “Do you have something special planned for your potential princess tonight?”

“Of course,” Yonji boasted, “I’m gonna sweep her off her feet.”

His eyes drank you in, greedy and full of an excitement that might have made you shy if you hadn’t lived through the last few months of your wild life.

Kat cleared her throat, and you caught the smirk she failed to hide. You poked her thigh under the table before she could break your concentration, your stupid, empty smile.

I guess he’s not her favorite anymore, you thought while you caught sight of Reiju’s pink hair a few tables away.

Green’s not so bad…

~~~🌲~~~

Three. Third time’s the…

Having no favorites was an impossible feat when the man of your dreams smiled at you. Iceburg did so well under the spotlight. You hardly heard a word while you schooled your features, forcing yourself to smile at him the same way you smiled at the others.

Uncle Cedrick’s eyes were always on you, watching every emotion you let slip when he wasn’t caught on his own image on the screen.

Hope was poison. Even if you followed this dream, you’d be sailing into the storm that haunted your nightmares.

You used that fear to balance your hope, hoping that your Uncle could sense none of those dangerous truths.

~~~🌲~~~

Four. The gentle not-a-giant.

A lovely death wish.

“Charlotte Katakuri,” Chinode squeaked from that little platform you’d gotten used to, although watching it swaying in the wind from your spot on the ground made your mouth dry. “Your family is known for making matches. What are you hoping to gain from this powerful pairing?”

Just as you’d known you’d been right about his smile; you were certain that your crimson-eyed suitor was scowling at her beneath that mass of feathers.

He waited long enough to reply that he interrupted whatever words she was about to try next, ignoring her to look at you with that knowing gaze.

“Family.”

~~~🌲~~~

Five. The traitor.

How was it that everyone could adore such a monster? Shanks had everyone laughing, sighing, practically prostrating themselves before him just to get some attention from that red-haired piece of shit.

That Emperor of the Sea.

Yet through all that charm, you could see the cracks.

He’s just like Uncle. He always gets what he wants.

And when he doesn’t…

“I always win when it counts.”

His threat sent a chill over your skin, but you kept smiling.

Even if he won, if he stole you for his own selfish goals, you had a plan.

Let the monster use you until you could kill him for your star. If you failed, he’d kill you, but you’d be free of him. If you succeeded, either his crew, or the wicked sea would end your life.

Numbers caught you again, calming your thrashing heart.

Five. He’s one out of five.

Hope was reckless, but…

I like those odds.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

A quiet gratitude had been building for the man that was caring for his love when he couldn’t, until that peace came undone.

He knew that breathing.

“She’s okay,” Buggy choked out at his scarred lover, the man far too patient while Buggy reacted to those faraway sounds.

“I thought you said… They’re—”

“Yeah.”

The stopping and starting was making him dizzy, and soon the clown was pacing, failing to remove his body’s reaction to her need.

I’m sick. Fucking twisted.

“Little clown—”

“He’s not gonna hurt her,” Buggy snarled, tearing the plug from his ear. “I shouldn’t… She doesn’t know. I’m so fucking wrong, GODS DAMNIT!”

“Why don’t you listen to me instead?”

Sand faded, but the swell of it around Buggy had formed into that frightening man, who breathed his question along his only ear. Crocodile fisted into his hair, and the clown was surprisingly distracted for a moment when he pulled their bodies together.

“Mm, my little clown is so needy,” Crocodile rasped, dragging the lovely, desperate man toward the bed. “Didn’t I already tell you? Just tell Daddy what you want, I’ll take care of you.”

Crocodile held his breath. He had to find some way to help, something to do to keep his brave little clown from breaking, but he feared he may have pushed too far.

Buggy’s mind had gone blank except for the sweet sting of Crocodile’s grip in his hair, and the sound of his star about to come on another man’s fingers.

“I want you to take care of me,” Buggy confessed, almost laughing at those words that had started such a filthy, delicious adventure for them all.

When Buggy had said he wanted to watch, he’d already felt a taste of this, but when she said those words, when she let them have her, Buggy had learned how sick he was. Watching those villains fuck his girl dumb, tear her into little pieces while she begged for more should have filled him with rage.

Yet, that twisted clown couldn’t get enough.

This was different though. She didn’t know he was listening.

Guilt nearly dropped him again, until that very distracting Daddy shoved his tongue down his throat.

“Good boy,” Crocodile praised before lying on the bed, gently tugging his lover along with him. “You gonna let Daddy taste that ass of yours before I ruin it? You gonna sit on my—”

“Yes, Daddy,” Buggy gave a breathless laugh before dropping his pajama pants, and climbing up that frightening, welcoming face.

“Mm, come here, pretty boy,” Crocodile hummed, pulling the man down with his hand, his hook already resting on the dresser.

He’d gotten so comfortable with this little guild, but Crocodile couldn’t force himself to stress about it while those needy, crystal eyes stared down at him.

“Touch yourself for me.”

“Fuuuck,” Buggy shook while that wicked, huge tongue teased him open. He obeyed, fisting himself while he sat on that frightening face, only to realize their mistake.

Crocodile made delicious noises while he worked, but it was hard to listen to his muffled moans over the sounds of her screams.

Star, I’m sorry, I—

“Gods, Daddy,” he finally returned, that tongue taking him over the edge that guilt had barred him from.

His Daddy went wild at those delicious words, fingers digging into his hip so he could shove that tongue deeper, toying with his clown until he could feel that pulsing need.

His star had to take her pleasure quickly, her breath almost distant while she moaned.

Iceburg was fucking her so well, Buggy could almost see her beautiful face all wrecked with need.

The clown managed to grab a pillow to catch his mess, letting out a pathetic moan while that tongue kept playing.

He fell to the side in bits and pieces, amazed by the pleased look on his scarred lover’s face.

“You didn’t need to spare me,” the man laughed, pulling him against the warmth of his body. “I’d like to feel my pretty clown’s come on my skin next time.”

“Fuck,” Buggy shivered against that warmth, earning a wicked chuckle. The sudden memory of the danger that awaited him would have stolen his mind again, if not for the lack of that sacred heartbeat.

“The locket,” his clown choked, sending fear through him.

“What is it, little clown?”

Holding onto his pretty, little lover, Crocodile managed to hold onto patience. Barely.

“He gave it back to her,” the clown sighed, more guilt riding him that he’d soon hear her fulfill Iceburg’s command.

His star wanted that man so badly, it stilled his blood again, until he remembered.

“I’m sorry,” he coughed, trying to turn in Crocodile’s arms to finish their distraction, but the man held him too tight. “We can— “

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” Crocodile soothed, breathing along Buggy’s neck until his clown shivered again. “Unless you want— What’s wrong?”

No. Baby, please.

“She’s safe, she’s just… She’s crying,” Buggy confessed, those comforting arms stiffening around him for a moment.

“Let’s get cleaned up and get some rest, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, that large hand smoothing down Buggy’s skin. “We need to stay strong for her.”

“Yeah.”

Buggy followed along, accepting comfort while a different kind of guilt trapped his heart.

He could feel the heat of her around that locket, her sobs muffled as though her fist was gripping the metal around his listening ear.

The fact that Buggy felt comforted, felt closer to Y/N while she fell to pieces, made him feel sicker than his perverted pleasure had.

It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.

~~~🤡🐊🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I don’t know…”

“You look pretty badass,” Kat declared as she trailed her finger over the strange, slick fabric along your arm. That smooth, shiny fabric covered everything but your head, your body encased in black and green.

It barely looked like clothes. It looked like you’d been dipped into a vat of paint.

“Well, it’s more comfortable than that leather outfit,” you sighed, glad for the silly cape this time.

At least my ass is covered.

Kat raised a brow at your snort, but she couldn’t keep her face straight.

Soon you were both laughing, wheezing, still giggling when mom returned to lead you to your next date.

Your locket was a lump beneath that skintight suit, but you hoped the number “4” on your chest would distract from it.

The youngest prince could barely speak when Cedrick presented you to him, letting the leeches drool over you almost as much as Yonji seemed to be.

It was ridiculous, but the sight of pink hair making its way toward your sister made it all worth it.

“You ready, princess,” Yonji managed to beg, kneeling at your feet.

“Yes, Prince Yonji— Oh!”

Laughter spilled from you once more, fighting not to squeal while he carried you through the air.

That suit was surprisingly comfortable against the wind beneath this golden sky.

“Just wait, Princess,” Yonji threatened, “I’m gonna show you the world.”

~~~🌲~~~

The thrill of flying sank fast once he set you down.

“Relax, pretty,” the prince ordered as he trailed a thumb over your cheek. “You’re safe with me.”

A gorgeous, green couch had been bolted to a wooden platform, but the comfort of that plush seat couldn’t hide the sway or stifle the strange need that eccentric piece of furniture had stoked in you.

Yonji had brought you to a couch at the top of a redwood tree, and sitting just above the forest was mind numbing. Somehow, sitting there was more dizzying than being carried through the sky.

“I had something made for you,” the green-haired man purred, grinning from his spot on his knees before you. His eyes dragged over every shiny piece of you until he pulled a large pouch from beneath his cape to dig through. “I hope you’re not too hungry, princess. It’s not a good idea to eat before your first go.”

“My first… No, really?”

“Please, gorgeous,” he begged, puppy dog eyes doing you in. “I’ll show you how. Just let me take these off for you.”

Fuck. Anything to get me off this stupid, green couch.

Yonji wasted no time when you nodded your consent, and soon you were giggling at his frantic, creeping fingers. He undid the shiny boots you’d been stuffed into, tickling you slightly as he trailed over your knees, your shins, tracing softly over the tops of your feet.

“Is my pretty princess ticklish?”

Wicked, curly eyebrows raised at you while he kissed just below your knee, but his fingers still held your squirming feet.

“Prince Yonji, please! You’re making me dizzy,” you pouted, holding in your smirk when you saw that you’d been right.

Making this prince melt was too easy, and watching his mouth go slack with need made your toes curl where he held them trapped against his chest.

“Sorry, princess,” Yonji rasped after catching his breath, still gazing up at you like you were his favorite treat. “I got distracted. Let me show you how to fly.”

~~~🌲~~~

“Holyshitholyshit!”

“You’re a natural,” Yonji beamed while he held your quivering hands, making you spin slowly in the darkening sky, getting too dark above the deadly tops of the trees. “I knew you’d be good, already a Vinsmoke princess, aren’t you?”

“Yonji, I— Wait!”

“I’ll catch you, princess. Show me how brave you are, baby.”

Fuck. Holy fuck.

“Fuck!”

“Look at you,” Yonji praised from below your hovering body, shifting to catch you with every stuttering move you made. “You’re flying, gorgeous! Doing so well for me. I’m gonna teach you so many things, just wait.”

So dizzy. So high.

So free.

Maneuvering still didn’t make sense, but your fear started to shift into thrills while you let yourself move through the air.

Nothing holding you down.

“This is fucking awesome!”

“Told you, princess,” Yonji bragged, still floating beneath you.

“How do I go down— Oh, fuck!”

You’d plummeted toward the ground for one terrifying moment, until you were caught, but Yonji groaned along with you. Your thin, shining suit protected you from the wind, but not from the achingly hard cock you’d slammed into when you fell, straddling him above the trees.

Heated laughter spilled from you while you let your death wish out to play.

“That felt amazing, Yonji, so good,” you purred, grinding yourself against the heavy need he carried. His whimpers and his fingers digging into your thighs made you cry out.

That lovely pressure on your clit nearly had you forgetting where you were.

“D-don’t stop, princess,” the green-haired hunter begged, keeping you both afloat while he gripped your hips, dragging you over his cock again and again.

“Please, Prince Yonji,” you moaned against his neck, nibbling on the only piece of bare skin you could find. “Your cock feels so fucking good. I’m going to come if you keep— “

More whimpers now, delicious when he let you taste them with a desperate kiss.

Your eyes rolled back when you felt him pulsing, twitching, coming in that suit of his.

“Yonji— “

“Don’t stop,” he whined. This poor, desperate prince wouldn’t let you move away, grinding against you while he twitched until you joined him.

Your body spasmed against his, moaning until you lost your breath at the sight of the stars that were too close.

“Mm, my perfect, little princess,” he hummed, making you squirm all the way to the ground while he covered you with kisses. “I can’t wait to bring you home.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐈🐈🐈~~~

Luckily there didn’t seem to be snails in that golden sky, so the screens lost sight of the hovering couple soon enough.

Kat relaxed in her seat, until her mother shot her a look.

“I’m going to take a walk,” the sister of the star drawled, standing instead of straightening her spine at that shitty table.

“Kathryn, don’t you want to spend time with our guests?”

“It’s just a walk.” Kat took a slow breath instead of snapping.

I thought I’d gotten better at this.

“I could use a walk, Miss Sylvad. Mind if I join you?”

The pink-haired princess beamed at Delaine Sylvad, and the whiff of royalty was enough to quiet her nagging.

“Thanks for the save,” Kat whispered once they were beyond the courtyard, beyond the glittering lights and greedy laughter. “You don’t need to— “

“I brought something for you,” Reiju teased, leaning close while she lifted a large purse from her shoulder. “But let’s get away from all the eyes before you open it.”

How the fuck do her lips look like that?

Kat shook herself free from the pull of those plump, teasing lips long enough to realize what the princess had said.

“Sure, my, uh… My suite isn’t too far from here.”

It was far, but the princess only teased a little when Kat had to ask for directions to her own fucking room.

~~~🐈~~~

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what your favorite color was first. I hope you don’t mind purple.”

Kat’s face went hot at the slow smile Reiju gave when she stepped out from behind the dressing screen. This shining suit, a more reserved version of the one the princess had donned, left Kat trying not to waddle like a duck.

Especially when the princess nudged her into an armchair while she sat her royal ass on the floor at her feet.

“Purple’s fine,” Kat breathed, holding in a shiver while long fingers tickled over her shins, fastening those miracle boots into place. “Yellow’s my favorite though.”

“Really,” Reiju raised a brow, earning a frown. “You’re always in black or green, and you don’t seem— “

“Catty bitches are allowed to like yellow, you know.” Kat couldn’t stop herself, earning a surprised laugh from the royal woman she’d just snapped at.

“Catty bitches, huh,” she smirked, offering her hand once she climbed to her feet. “Come along then, Kat. Why should we let our siblings hog all the fun?”

~~~🐈~~~

Ohfuckohfuck.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Kat shouted, her eyes going wide as she scanned the ground for listening ears. “This is so fucking cool!”

“I’m impressed,” Reiju praised, floating effortlessly while Kat shifted and bobbed in the air over the beach. “Do you want to go glide over the water? It’s been a long time since I remembered how fun this could be.”

Kat’s eyes kept scanning, her true smile wilting at the edges a bit.

“Come on, gorgeous,” the princess tempted, flying close enough to share breath. “You’re not trapped on this island too, are you? We won’t go far.”

Those royal lashes batted up at her, and Kat was powerless against them.

“Okay,” Kat gave in, “but if I drown, I’m going to sue you so fucking hard.”

Pretty fingers interlaced with hers while even prettier laughter filled the darkening sky around them.

~~~🐈🐈🐈~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

A fluffy robe stole you from the breathless prince, but all you could do was laugh. You were carted past the courtyard, leeches still partying away before they cheered for you. Reels of the Hunt were still plastered against the manor, and those numbers filled your mind again.

Kat was nowhere to be seen, and you grinned at the thought of her having something for herself. Something that didn’t belong to you or your Uncle.

You wouldn’t mind being a princess now, especially if Kat might find a place in that world.

Two princes. One shipwright. One lovely, leather boy, you thought with a giggle, wondering if flying had made you high.

One out of five. Eighty percent.

Stay focused.

It was hard to scold yourself tonight. Hope would kill you, but it kept pulling at your lips while you washed your windswept hair, while you sipped on tea you’d made your mother gulp, while you laid out cards across your bed.

You knew it was never going to be your choice. Uncle Cedrick was going to pick his favorite, so you couldn’t let him see, but now there were only five suitors left.

Counting was relaxing, so you gave yourself that gift, counting cards until your eyes started to flutter closed. A pleasant exhaustion filled you, and you held that secret comfort close, the metal of the locket always warm against your skin.

No love for someone like me, but maybe… Eighty percent is nice.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

So many failures, and they wouldn’t fucking stop.

The red-haired pirate was wasting his advantage, too focused on the man that had no flaws, until he’d drank enough to train his sights on another enemy.

“Your family must need a win,” Shanks gave another pathetic attempt. “I heard all about that little wedding. Linlin got you guys good, huh? I couldn’t—”

“Don’t waste your breath, Emperor,” Prince Ichiji sneered, holding his glass over his lips while he let out his next words in a whisper, barely audible in that noisy courtyard. “We’ve already won. I hope you enjoyed fucking our little princess while you could. She’s gonna be real busy when we bring her home.”

“Hey, chief,” Benn wrapped his arm around his shoulders before Shanks could crush that smug prince into dust. “Why don’t we get some rest? The Hunt starts up again tomorrow.”

“Good night, old man,” Ichiji taunted as Shanks walked away, hating himself far more than that pompous prince.

Benn guided him to his suite, crossing his arms while he offered silent support, unable to offer true advice in this slimy, snail infested shit hole.

“Don’t stress so much, chief,” Benn soothed, patting his back when he refused to leave the couch, just pulling a pillow over his tired eyes. “You’ve got this in the bag. Just be that charming asshole everybody loves, alright?”

A mix of a laugh and a groan escaped his throat, but Shanks couldn’t think of winning.

All he could see were those empty eyes, and the looks on his lover’s faces when he would fail to bring her back to them.

That selfish Emperor almost risked it all just to call them. To hear their voices. To beg for forgiveness.

There were only four suitors left to beat.

Four obstacles to tear down.

Four men that the Great Red Haired Shanks dreamed of slaughtering that night, fitful sleep leaving him a mess, once again.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐈🐈🐈~~~

Kat trailed her fingertips along the calm waves, disrupting the reflection of the sky that was creeping toward night.

“You really are a natural,” the princess lifted her chin, guiding her to float higher and higher above that dangerous sea. “Kat, I have something I—”

Fuck it.

Nothing was hers.

Every time Kat tried to find something for herself, some freedom, something that didn’t belong to anyone else, it was bought, or sold, or stolen away from her so she could earn her place in the family.

The sister of the heiress had stopped trying to find her own way. Nothing would come of it, at least not until the family drama played out, but there never seemed to be an end in sight, until now.

Maybe they could be happy. Maybe sis can be safe, can take up her place.

Maybe I can have something.

Kat Sylvad pulled that beautiful princess against her, managing to stay in the air while her heart seemed to tear through her chest.

Those plump, tempting lips were sweet when Kat kissed the words out of Reiju’s mouth. Reiju was so sweet, like fruit, like candy, like that shade of that stunning, pink hair.

The princess answered Kat’s moans, and desperate hands traveled over each other’s bodies until they both yelped at the touch of the ocean at their feet.

“If I drown—”

“I’ve got you,” Reiju promised, pulling higher and higher until everything was small.

Everything but her.

“Wait, Kat, please,” she begged, breathless while she trailed her fingers down Kat’s face. “I need to tell you something.”

Kat dreaded whatever words were about to spill out, because the look in Reiju’s eyes had sent her stomach plummeting to the ocean floor.

“What is it,” she hated asking.

Those royal, violet eyes were wide, and those long, lovely fingers dug deep into Kat’s forearms while poison spilled from her lips.

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” Reiju begged, until her voice turned fierce. “I really do like you, but I’ve been trying to get you alone. I can’t get close to her, and I need you to tell your sister something for me. Please, it’s—”

“Of course,” Kat hissed, dipping toward the waves until that pretty princess dragged her back up to meet her eyes. “I’ve never been a royal errand girl before. Do I at least get a fucking tip?”

Violet eyes almost looked hurt, but they turned to steel too fast for Kat to believe it.

She didn’t want to believe this.

“Kat, you can’t let her marry a Vinsmoke,” the princess demanded, her grip painful now while her strong hands shook with what seemed to be rage. Fear. “You must convince her not to choose my brothers. Please, I can’t get close to her, you need to tell her.”

“Why,” Kat pulled away, though she could tell the princess had let her go. The strength she’d just felt made her throat dry. “Why do you care?”

Reiju flew in so fucking fast that Kat lost her hold on the air. Lovely fingers pulled her close again, and the youngest Sylvad struggled and snarled, wanting this beautiful woman to get the fuck out of her sight already.

But she was trapped, this superhuman princess clamping her arms behind her back while those poisonous lips came too close to hers.

“I care because I don’t want to have to kill your sister,” Reiju urged, her voice nearly flat, empty while she went on. “I vowed that I will never let my family create another monster. I won’t let them use Y/N like they used my mother.”

The sound of the ocean below seemed to stretch on and on, too much time in that frozen moment.

“Tell me.”

The princess let out a breath at Kat’s demand, releasing her before moving, almost pacing in the air.

“My mother killed herself trying not to birth those monsters. Dad learned from his mistake though,” Reiju spat, hatred nearly burning the air around them. “And my brothers are thrilled. They’re going to breed more monsters, and they won’t risk their brood mare fighting back this time.”

“What are you saying,” Kat hated to ask.

A wave of heavy darkness seemed to suffocate them now.

“If Y/N marries a Vinsmoke, she’ll be chained to a bed until they can tear more monsters from her belly. They’ll experiment until they make their ‘perfect’ specimen, unless she dies first.”

Kat couldn’t speak now, terror filling her throat until bile burned with it.

“They’re not going to let her escape like my mother did,” Reiju whispered now, those perfect lips quivering, the tears in her eyes seeming weak against the fury in her next words. “They’re monsters, Kat. They’ll kill me too, but I’d rather die than let more of them be born. Y/N will thank me for killing her. Please, don’t let your sister choose a Vinsmoke. Please, don’t make me kill her.”

“There’s no way in hells they’re going to take my sister,” Kat breathed, wrath sending her flying across the water to make sure that green-haired piece of shit wasn’t touching her.

“Wait,” Reiju caught up easily, joining her flight. “We need to be able to communicate, just in case. There’s too much surveillance, and my family is—”

“Yellow means things are good,” Kat panted, annoyed with the suit now that she was sweating, panic only building the closer they got. “Purple means we need to talk.”

“Got it, but what if—”

Kat rounded on her, wishing that this princess had only been a dream.

“Pink means that you grab my sister and take her somewhere safe before I tell your daddy how you plan to betray him,” Kat warned, nothing but ice in her voice. “You got that, princess?”

“Got it,” Reiju muttered, before she let Kat fly home alone.

Home.

It was never her home. Nothing about Kat’s life felt like home, except for her tragic sister that tried so hard. Her sister that didn’t mean to be the center of attention, the favorite, the star.

Kat had grown up to see things clearer than she used to. It was so very clear that Y/N was struggling, and that she’d do anything for her.

But somehow this stupid Hunt had brought out those old childhood jealousies, that shitty, selfish feeling of hating the shadow.

Fuck that bullshit.

None of that was her fault, and Kat was glad for one thing on this shitty night. Those assholes reminded her.

Nothing was hers, except for her sister, and Kat wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her again.

No matter who the fuck they were.

~~~🐈🐈🐈~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Sis, I need to talk to you.”

“Why,” you groaned, hissing softly when she nudged you.

You tried to move away from the light, only to find a playing card stuck to your face. A snort left you, helping you wake up to find Kat sitting beside you where you’d passed out on the covers.

“I already checked, but just in case,” Kat hushed, pulling a few tonedials out of her purse. Ignoring your question, she pressed them all until the suite filled with too many angry songs she’d been saving since high school.

If it wasn’t so fucking loud, you might have smiled.

“Sis, I need you to promise me not to marry a Vinsmoke.”

“Oh,” you yawned, still extricating yourself from the pile of cards. “I told you I can try not to marry your favorite. Just—”

“Listen,” Kat hissed, and the panic in her eyes shook you awake, your body almost thrumming with fear. “You can’t marry them. Reiju told me about their plans, about how their mother died. They’re going to strap you to a table and force you to give birth to more fucked up superhuman pieces of shit.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t fucking, ‘oh,’ me,” Kat grabbed your shoulders, trying to catch your eyes before they could droop. “Promise me that you won’t choose a Vinsmoke, okay? Promise me!”

“I won’t,” you told the truth. “I won’t choose a Vinsmoke.”

“Fuck,” Kat panted while she hugged you, giving a small, tired smile when she pulled away. “I’m glad you’re not a complete dumbass.”

Laughing the thoughts away, you let her tackle you again at your musings on dumbass fractions, until you teased her over her purple suit and windswept hair.

You let yourself be her sister, stuffing that other truth down deep until she drifted off.

I promise I won’t choose them, but I won’t get to choose.

Two out of five is…

Hope is fucking stupid.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

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

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this one! I hope you enjoyed the whiplash, and our lovely sister, Kat. Always nervous to throw new POV's in, but I've been looking forward to this one. I'm also just wildly jealous. I would faint if I tried to talk to Princess Reiju, let alone hiss at her. 😍🦋🐈

Chapter 39

This world is hard, and finding ways to help can be overwhelming. Operation Olive Branch is a volunteer, grassroots effort committed to the collective liberation of all peoples, and they prioritize transparency and community. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of fundraisers, as well as other ways to help.

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fractal-unfoldment · 2 years ago

Text

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder of Abandonment

Post-traumatic stress disorder of abandonment can range from mild to severe. It is a psychobiological condition in which earlier separation traumas can interfere with current life. You experience emotional flashbacks that flood you with anxiety in response to triggers that you may not consciously perceive, and this often leaves you with the overwhelming sense that you're no longer in control.

Signs and Symptoms

An intense fear of abandonment (overwhelming insecurity) that tends to destabilize your primary relationships in adulthood

A tendency to repeatedly subject yourself to people or experiences that lead to another loss and another trauma

Intrusive reawakening of old losses

Heightened memories of traumatic separations and other events

Conversely, complete or partial memory blocks of earlier events

Feelings of emotional detachment from past crises

Conversely, difficulty letting go of the painful feelings of old rejections and losses, which generate ongoing emotional conflict with your parents or siblings

Episodes of self-destructive behavior

Difficulty withstanding the normal emotional ups and downs of an adult relationship

Difficulty working through the normal levels of conflict and disappointment within a relationship

Extreme sensitivity to rejection

Tendency to emotionally or sexually shut down, but n ot be able to identify why

Difficulty naming your feelings

Difficulty feeling the affection and other physical comforts offered to you by a willing partner

A pendulum swing between fear of engulfment and fear of annihilation

A tendency to avoid close relationships altogether

Conversely, a tendency to rush into relationships and clamp on too quickly

Difficulty letting go because you have attached with emotional epoxy, even when your partner is unable to fulfill your needs

An excessive need for control, whether you're controlling towards others or overly self-controlled; a need to have everything perfect and done your way

Conversely, a tendency to create chaos by avoiding responsibility and procrastinating, and feeling out of control

A tendency to have unrealistic expectations and heightened reactivity toward others, creating conflict that can lead to alienation

A tendency to act impulsively without being able to put the brakes on, even when you know there could be negative consequences

A tendency toward unpredictable outbursts of anger

Source: The Journey from Abandonment to Healing by Susan Anderson

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bellasmumblingsandmusings · 1 year ago

Text

What Could Have Been

Chapter 5: Neither seen nor heard

Previously: Prologue Tumblr Link for Prologue, Chapter One; Chapter Two, Chapter 3, Interlude Chapter 4

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. NSFW, Ethical and non Ethical BDSM, noncon, some allusions to sexual violence, flashbacks to sexual violence, discussions of sexual violence, dubious boundaries, attempted sexual violence, dubcon, blood licking/blood kink, reference to cheating behavior, emotional trauma, group sex, sex, smutt, anxiety, negative thinking, sexual trauma, recovery, healing, angst,

Word count: 37K total

Status: Ongoing Note: Brief Smutt!

Song for this Chapter: Cloak and Dagger - Eternal Eclipse: Spotify Link

A03

Entire Story Link on AO3

Spotify Playlist

After the Jump!

Chapter 5: Neither seen nor heard

"Sima, don’t."

Astarion’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and unwavering, a current of desperate defiance running beneath. He couldn’t allow her to cross this line, not after all they had endured. Guilt churned within him like a storm, but he couldn’t let it overshadow the lengths he’d go for her love.

She needs to understand how much she means to me, he thought. I keep failing her, stumbling over my own wretched instincts. If I can't prove my worth, she’ll never choose me... never choose vampirism. Fool.

"Do not make it seem like I only care about the strength of my domain,” he said. “I would tear this entire city down to get to you. My life is meaningless without you."

Sima's heart ached at his words, love and bitterness swirling within her like a tempest. She wanted to believe him, to let his words soothe her wounds, but the shadows of their past cast long and dark over her trust. Could she trust him again? Could she let him in after all this?

"So you stopped me because you didn’t want me to die? Is that it?” she asked. “Did you think I wasn’t strong enough to do the spell?" Her voice trembled with disbelief, an echo of the pain that lingered between them.

Astarion grasped her chin firmly, pulling her closer until their faces were mere inches apart. His tone was sharp, edged with a restrained fury that vibrated through his words, barely containing the tempest within. How could she not see how much he cared?

"How dare you. How. Dare. You. Your courage and cleverness have carried us through every trial. You are determined, dedicated, resilient—I never once thought you weren’t strong enough. What I feared was that you would sacrifice yourself for me, and I was right. I would never let someone I care about throw their life away."

Sima lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes. The truth in his words was undeniable, but the weight of their shared pain was too great. Was it really worth the pain?

"I have nothing to live for, Astarion. I’ve lost myself. You want this... world-ending love... and I can’t even bear to be touched by anyone."

Her words cleaved through the remnants of his resolve, laying bare the depths of her despair, and Astarion’s heart ached as he witnessed her suffering. The fury that had fueled him slowly ebbed away, replaced by a sorrow that mirrored her own.

"You’ve endured such terrible things. It’s no surprise that you can’t bear to be touched," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress in the silent room.

"I can’t bear to be touched by you... It makes me feel things, awful things," Sima whispered, wincing. The weight of her trauma pressed down on her, a relentless reminder of all she had endured. Every burning touch of his was a cruel reminder of who he’d become.

Shock and sadness flitted across Astarion's face, a canvas of dawning realization. No wonder she recoiled from my touch, he realized. I am part of her trauma.

"What awful things?" he finally asked, his voice low. He feared the answer, but had to know.

"Shame. Regret. Hatred... for you and for me, because you keep saying things that sound like you want to force me into something I’m not physically ready for. Because I feel... tainted? Used? When you talk to me like that?" Her words spilled out, raw and unfiltered, painting a vivid portrait of her inner turmoil.

Gods, Astarion thought, blinking. This is why she pushed me away. I’ve made her feel objectified and diminished. How could I have been so blind? Yet, before he could reply, she went on.

"You think it feels... good to be told that you will be taken? By force? Do you think that makes me feel safe?"

It was then, with her question hanging between them, a chilling reminder of the distance his desires had created, that Astarion finally felt the true impact of her words. His efforts to seduce, to claim her, had only instilled more fear, more isolation. And all this time, he had misconstrued her withdrawal as reluctance, not as the protective shield it was meant to be.

A sour taste settled in his mouth. I’ve been such a fool.

Sima was watching him, he knew. Watching desperately for a sign that he’d finally realized the extent of his actions.

"Why do you think I didn’t want you to tend to my wounds—the wounds you inflicted on me?” she asked softly, hollowly. “Why I flinched. Why I was scared to have you see me naked?"

With every word, Astarion felt the sting of his missteps, his misjudgments echoing back at him. He’d cast blame where he should have offered understanding. He’d seen her strength, her resilience, not as the protective armor it was, but as a challenge to his authority.

He observed her now, her motions deliberate and weary as she turned the faucet again. The sound of rushing water was a temporary respite from their painful discourse.

"It’s gotten cold," she murmured, more to herself than to him, her voice catching on a sniffle. "It’s the only thing that helps sometimes... with the soreness of what happened to me. I don’t even know if it’s my mind or my body that remembers."

Astarion remained silent, his presence a quiet sentinel as he watched her navigate her pain alone, not daring to break the fragile peace that the sound of water offered. The silence between them was a chasm, filled with unspoken words and unhealed wounds. He had to find a way to heal this rift.

"Sometimes I just have to take a bath a day. The... men in Calimport, they really hurt me, and the healer says it’ll be some time before I’m completely alright. So I had to figure out how to take care of myself. Honestly, I would have gone to Shadowheart, but I didn’t want her to know..." Sima’s voice trailed off, and her expression tightened with a quiet, internal pain as she drifted back into the water of the tub.

The tension in Astarion’s jaw was palpable as he processed her words, his fury building at the thought of those who had wronged her. His own role in her continued suffering was becoming painfully clear. He was both her tormentor and her protector. How could he claim to love her when he’d caused so much pain?

"I’m so tired. I didn’t sleep very much in the dungeon last night. I might get some rest after my bath. What will you do?" Her query was almost mechanical, the numbness in her tone painting a stark picture of her exhaustion. I’m so tired of fighting, she thought. Tired of feeling alone.

Astarion’s heart tightened at her weary words. "I will... stay with you. Just in case you need me. I cannot leave you alone," he responded, his voice steady. Every word was laden with an unspoken vow of protection which she could not hear, but that he was desperate to fulfill—a commitment to amend his past wrongs.

As Sima turned to her shampoo, slowly massaging her dark ringlets, the length of her hair flowed down her back like a river of night. Astarion watched, a silent observer to her quiet strength. Each movement, each hum, was a reminder of the enduring spirit he’d fallen in love with. Her resilience was a beacon in their shared turmoil.

"Could you pass me the jasmine oil, please?” she asked. “I assume you have it, because you remember I like it. Do you have some in this bathroom?"

It was a simple request, yet it spoke volumes. He was almost bewildered by it. Simplicity. Trust. Just as it had been, once.

"Yes... I have some." He handed her the bottle, his gaze lingering. Truth be told, he was captivated by the mundane yet profound act of her self-care, a moment of normalcy in their twisted reality. She popped open the cap, and the scent of jasmine enveloped them—a delicate reminder of the sweetness they once shared.

As she hummed softly to herself, working the oil through her curls, a small smile graced her features, and something about it sent a pang through Astarion’s chest. It was different from any expression he had seen on her before. Not the flirtatious, manipulative grins she was accustomed to donning, but one that seemed genuine, untouched by her usual facades. This smile was a glimpse of her true self, a beacon of hope amid the darkness.

He observed her quietly, the steam from the bath casting a soft halo around her. The moment felt delicate, almost sacred, as he watched her cleanse herself, each movement graceful and intentional. I want to memorize this, he thought. I want to hold onto the purity of her smile, but the allure of her presence—her scent, her curves—draws me closer.

Finally, as she rinsed off, Sima turned to him. "Could you turn around? I’m getting out now."

Her request broke the spell. Without hesitation, Astarion turned, closing his eyes to respect her privacy. He stood still, battling the impulse to glance back. More than anything, he wanted to respect her wishes, to prove that he could be trusted. His own restraint surprised him; the desire to look was strong, but his will was stronger. It felt like a test, one he was determined not to fail.

Sima stepped out from the bath, water droplets cascading down her skin like tiny diamonds as she reached for a towel. She wrapped her hair, then dried herself off before slipping into a new silk robe that fell just past her knees.

"I’m decent now," she called out softly, her voice carrying a hint of relief.

Turning to face her, Astarion caught his breath. Even in the modesty of her robe, her presence overwhelmed him. The contours of her body, veiled yet hinted at by the fabric, stirred a deep desire within him. He yearned to close the distance—to envelop her in an embrace. Still, after knowing how much he’d hurt her, he decided to hold back. It wasn’t his place to breach the space she’d guarded so carefully.

Sima, meanwhile, perused the assortment of lotions and perfumes arranged meticulously on the shelf. The array was a testament to luxury—glass jars that caught the light, ceramic containers that promised exotic contents, and bottles of every shape filled with colorful elixirs. Each piece was more than just a vessel; it was a promise of scent and sensation, a collection that turned the air rich with fragrant possibilities. These small indulgences were her way of reclaiming some control, some sense of normalcy.

Reaching for a large glass jar just beyond her grasp, Sima stepped up onto the counter. The action defined the muscles in her legs, a glimpse of strength under the silk. Astarion's gaze was drawn irresistibly to the play of muscles, the subtle reveal of her form beneath the robe that ignited a fire of desire within him.

"Godsdamnit," Sima muttered, her fingertips brushing against the elusive jar.

A quiet chuckle escaped Astarion as he stepped forward, deciding to intervene before her frustration grew. He reached over her, his presence close and warm, and gently placed the jar within her reach. As his fingers lightly brushed against hers, a spark of electricity shot through him.

Sima shot him a look as she tightened her robe. "I almost had it… but thank you," she said, her voice mixed with annoyance and gratitude.

"I saw that. Your efforts were most valiant, darling," Astarion replied, his tone light and teasing.

Rolling her eyes, Sima retreated to the bedroom, the jar of jasmine cream in hand. "You know, you were going to leave me be, remember? Let me have a bit of privacy?"

Astarion followed her into the bedroom without a word. He leaned against the doorframe, not crossing the threshold, watching her sit down. The robe was even more revealing from this angle, and he could see the shape of her thighs beneath it when she sat. His eyes were drawn as if by magnetic force to her curves, and his breath sharpened. Then he looked at her face—it seemed she was not willing to allow things to move forward without protest.

"Honestly… I really would like the privacy of grooming and taking care of myself at the least,” she said. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I don’t know… terrorize a nunnery? Frighten some patriars into signing laws?" Sima hissed at him, her brows pinching together.

"What am I supposed to do? Allow you to sit in there by yourself—to plot some scheme to escape? I hardly think so," he countered.

"I’m literally just… putting cream onto my skin. Not a damn thing more."

Astarion felt his breath quicken with anticipation. His eyes roamed her body, her curves, the way the robe clung to her skin. The robe was so short, just slightly past her knees. He knew that under its confines, she was fully visible from neck to thighs. "Can’t I watch you put it on, at least?"

Frustrated, Sima pulled a dressing visor and wooden privacy screen in front of her, effectively obscuring herself from view. "Astarion, you cannot."

Astarion's breath hitched, his fingers curled into tight fists. The constraint imposed by the semi-opaque curtain between them was maddening—a barrier both physical and metaphorical that challenged his restraint. He inhaled sharply, struggling against the raw impulse to shred the delicate fabric and wood separating them. For now, he abided by her rules, respecting the boundary she had drawn, yet it felt like a silent rebuke. With a deep exhale, he tamed the tempest of his desires, his resolve steeling once more.

Behind the veil, Sima let out a relieved sigh and loosened the front of her robe. She gracefully lifted a leg onto the sofa, the action revealing the smooth, deep caramel canvas of her skin. With deliberate motions, she began to massage the jasmine-scented cream into her flesh and soothed the sore muscles beneath. The ritual was both intimate and healing; her fingers danced over her skin with practiced care. The feeling of peace would have pervaded, if it had not been for the flickers of shadow she saw from below the divider. Astarion’s form cast a shadow across the divide; she could feel his gaze piercing the tenuous protection she had, and every movement she made felt like a covetous caress.

Meanwhile, Astarion's imagination raced, fueled by the shadows and sounds. The barrier did nothing to quell the vivid images that flashed through his mind. He envisioned her movements, the graceful arch of her back, the gentle curve of her hips. Her ass as she worked the cream into her thighs. Her lips as she lifted that cream to her face.

Each imagined detail sharpened his lust and brought vivid recollections of her taste and touch. His heart thundered in his chest as if ready to burst. It also frayed the little control he had gained with the realities she had shared of her own pain. He reprimanded and repulsed himself, and yet the dulcet tones of her peaceful sighs brought him back to moments of their shared pleasure. He closed his eyes, wrestling with the desire to see her, to touch her—to claim her as his own. His body burned with the desire to dip into the velvet of her folds and the wetness he once inspired. His cock hardened and the ache made manifest by the weeping he felt at the tip. Yet, he remained still, a statue of patience, allowing her the privacy she insisted upon.

As she continued, Sima spread the cream across her neck and shoulders, then down to her breasts and even across her perked nipples, her movements fluid and unhurried. The cream disappeared into her skin, leaving a subtle sheen and a fragrance that hinted at hidden depths. She extended the treatment to her legs, her hands caressing her thighs, tracing lines of relaxation and care that she had long denied herself.

The soft sounds of her self-care sent Astarion's senses into overdrive. He imagined the curve of her hips as her hands reached around to soothe her back, the silhouette of her form bending and stretching in quiet grace. He was utterly captivated, entranced not by grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but by the simple act of her caring for herself. This mundane intimacy, so private and personal, stirred a deep longing within him—a yearning not just for her body, but for the quiet moments of solitude she guarded so fiercely.

Finally, as Sima finished her ritual, she covered herself once more, the silk robe sliding over her skin with a whisper. The mere thought that she had just anointed her body, particularly her breasts—the thought alone set his blood aflame. Sima's breasts were one of his favorite parts of her. They were perfect to him, round and full, and the thought that he could simply watch them covered in cream, with the mere shadow of them visible for him to gaze upon, drove him mad. The notion of her, veiled yet vivid in his mind’s eye, was both exquisite agony and exquisite bliss.

Finally, she spoke, her tone weary yet firm. "It can't be like this every day! Astarion, you haven't given me a moment's rest!"

“Sima…” Astarion murmured gently, stark against the tempest swirling inside him. The silhouette of her curves, the fluid grace of her movements, and the fleeting glimpses of her skin he'd caught—each detail conspired to dizzy him with desire. His heart ached with a longing that was almost painful in its intensity. Gods, she was so tempting... and all his.

"I'm serious. If you actually want me to take this... week-long trial period seriously, we need to discuss some boundaries," Sima retorted, her voice echoing a firm resolve. The leering from earlier from his eyes even though she was obscured, left nothing but a feeling of exposed raw skin to her circumstances; the loss of control over her surroundings felt like yet another shackle in the beautiful space.

As her words filtered through the haze of his desire, Astarion felt a sobering chill. He had overstepped, pushed too far—more than once. It was crucial now, more than ever, that she trusted him, that she chose to come to him willingly. He exhaled slowly, his breath a soft sigh in the quiet room.

"You have no idea how tempting you are. But I suppose you are right, we should discuss boundaries."

"Privacy. Privacy for god's sake. How would you feel if someone was following your every move, hmm?" Sima’s voice carried a sharp edge, a clear signal of her distress.

Astarion paused, carefully considering her words. He knew he would be furious in her place. But their circumstances were unique, and she required a different approach.

"I would be annoyed—angry, even. But you are no ordinary woman, my dear," he replied.

"Equals my arse! I'm still a person! Don't you care how uncomfortable I am at this very moment?!" Sima snapped, her frustration radiating from every word. Anger and desperation seemed to burn through her veins, and her breaths felt sharp and shallow in her lungs. She wanted to scream, to throw the cream at him. Anything to take his suffocating gaze off of her body.

But then… his face. It held something possessive, but something else, too. Confusion. The realization hit her like a wave, cold and sudden—he genuinely didn't understand the depth of her discomfort. He had no idea what he was doing to her.

"Of course I care..." Astarion responded softly. For a moment, he wondered if this might be a ploy to unsettle him, or to test his resolve. Then, as he studied her, the voice of reason in his head took over. There was genuine discomfort, both in the tenseness of her posture and the defensive edge of her voice. He was going too far, yet again.

Sima wanted to believe him. The gentleness of his voice was enough to stir some hesitation within her; it had been so very long since he’d really seen her. More than anything, she wanted to trust. But then, deep down, she knew she could not. Getting him to give her even just a touch of basic privacy had been like pulling a tooth. He saw all of this as a game, some twisted form of foreplay. She had to remember that.

"You are a woman of exceptional beauty and grace," he murmured, his tone almost reverent. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. From now on, I promise I shall not watch you as you dress or bathe."

"Thank the gods," Sima exhaled, a measure of relief washing over her features. Again, a flicker of hope stirred within her, only to be quickly snuffed out. It wasn’t enough. All of this time, he hadn’t truly seen her, so why should she trust that he would now? His twisted sense of affection, his inability to see her pain, made her feel more isolated than ever. She needed to find a way out, to escape this suffocating love before it consumed her entirely.

Astarion mustered a smile, trying to infuse it with reassurance. "Anything else, my dear?"

"Could I please be left in peace for today? I'm just going to wander the Palace. You've changed much in a year. Maybe I’ll visit the library... I need time to think. The end of this week, everything. I need to be alone," Sima pressed, her voice laced with a pleading undertone. She needed to find herself again, without his constant presence.

"I..." He began to protest, then halted, considering her request. Perhaps it was indeed for the best that she had some time alone, away from his persistent attempts to sway her. "Of course, my sweet. You have the whole Palace to yourself. Do enjoy yourself," he conceded graciously.

She visibly relaxed, the relentless pressure of his attention easing. "Wonderful. I'm going to get dressed. Alone. Here, in the bedroom. I shall see you at dinner... it is only... 3 PM now, so that's in a few hours," Sima announced.

"That should be perfect. I will be thinking of you, my love. Rest well," Astarion responded before he left the room to retreat to his study. The day had been unexpectedly draining; he was exhausted and struggled to calm his restless thoughts. It took every ounce of his willpower to grant her the space she requested, but now, he needed time to reflect.

Once assured of his departure, Sima leapt into action with a sense of urgency.

First, she enveloped herself in a protective aura, casting Protection from Good and Evil to shield her from any compulsion or charm that might sway her resolve. Her heart pounded, a rhythmic reminder of what was at stake. She would not let him control her, not again.

Next, she swallowed a draught of Mind Fortress, fortifying her mind against any domination spells that could be cast to control her. The liquid burned down her throat, a fierce symbol of her defiance. Her mind was her own, a fortress he would not breach.

Then, she cautiously took out the Sending Stone for Shadowheart. Clutching it tightly, she wrestled with disbelief over her friends' lack of confrontation with Astarion. Could they really perceive this as merely a lovers’ dispute? They seemed utterly oblivious to the grim reality that in just a week, she would face a profound loss of choice in her transformation. She decided it was too premature to act—more time was needed to devise a foolproof plan. The weight of impending doom pressed down on her, every second ticking down like a bomb.

Meanwhile, Astarion was besieged by a tumult of emotions—frustration, desire, doubt, and concern gnawing at him. His study, once a sanctuary of arcane knowledge, now felt like a lavish iron maiden. Her words haunted him. Had he been too forceful? He clenched his fists, knuckles white with the effort to maintain control. He was determined to win her heart, and he set his mind on crafting a grand romantic gesture: a feat to capture her affection once and for all. He had to show her his love, to make her understand how much she meant to him.

In the guest room, Sima found a gown that seemed crafted for espionage—a deep violet silk, embroidered with golden filigree that whispered of royal secrets and shadows. The dress clung to her form, emphasizing her silhouette while allowing room to move, a perfect blend of elegance and utility. If she was to escape, she must do so with grace and cunning.

Adorned thus, she ventured forth, her stride a silent dance through the palace corridors. The air itself seemed electrified as she moved, Astarion's omnipresent aura pressing against her like a heavy velvet drape. Despite her defenses, a warmth tinged her cheeks, his unseen gaze almost tangible against her skin. Every step felt like walking a tightrope, the weight of his presence a constant reminder of the danger she was in.

Her path wound through the palace—a chessboard of light and shadow. She first entered the opulent dining room, its white marble walls stark against deep purple drapes and golden sconces. The plush velvet chairs stood like sentinels around the pale mahogany table, and through arched windows draped in white, the expansive grounds beckoned. An oil painting of a stern-eyed man watched over the room, his gaze seeming to pierce through time and space, adding a chill to the air. Every corner of this place felt like a prison, and each step, a gamble with fate.

She glided past, her movements fluid, barely disturbing the air as she entered the expansive solarium. Here, stone paths led to an arching marble gateway, framed by lush greenery in ornate pots and a symphony of frogs and goldfish providing a deceptive serenade of peace. The thick black carpet underfoot guided her steps towards the looming arch. She needed to find a way out, a safe path that would lead her to freedom.

Finally, Sima explored a lavish study, its walls lined with bookcases and a large dark mahogany desk at its heart. Comfortable seating was arranged for quiet contemplation, and a long wall of glass doors opened onto a balcony that overlooked the extensive Palace grounds and beyond to the sprawling city of Baldur's Gate. Here, in the quiet solitude of the study, Sima paused, allowing the weight of her impending decisions to settle as she considered her next move. Failure was not an option. This was her only chance.

Stepping out onto the balcony, Sima's gaze swept across the landscape with the precision of a hawk. Every detail mattered; this was no innocent tour.

The outer courtyard below offered no quarter, its walls formidable and the guards' eyes sharp. Turning away, her gaze caught another possibility—a nearby balcony with a trellis dressed in vines and flowers, a potential secret passage veiled in nature's own disguise. There it was—her way out.

She noted the large stone stairs arching down to the courtyard where the trellis awaited her possible descent. Though direct, the path was exposed—a gambit that required timing and shadow to succeed. Timing was everything; she couldn't afford a single mistake.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of fire and night, Sima calculated her window of opportunity. With nightfall imminent and the palace soon to be swallowed by shadows, the conditions were aligning for her escape. Two hours. That was all she had.

Dinner awaited in four hours; dusk would cloak her movements in two. Deciding against the library, she returned to her quarters. Beneath her regal attire, she donned leathers, sleek and close-fitting—a second skin that whispered of stealth and speed. Her boots, understated yet functional, complemented her attire without drawing attention. She secreted a bag of holding into her bodice, preparing for any eventuality. She had to be ready for anything.

As twilight embraced the palace, Sima traversed its halls once more, every sense attuned to the pulse of the place—each footfall, each shadow cast by the dying light. And when the world outside had dimmed to just whispers of what it once was, she returned to the balcony. This was it. Her only chance.

As the veil of night deepened, Sima felt the pulsing silence of the palace settle around her like a thick cloak. The stillness was palpable, interrupted only by the methodical steps of an elderly elven footman securing each door until dawn. His rounds echoed through the corridors, a reminder of the tightening noose of security. In the shrouded dimness, only the moon offered a faint luminescence, casting ghostly shadows that danced along the palace walls. She couldn't hesitate now. One wrong move and it would be over.

Seizing the moment, she whispered an incantation, cloaking herself in the veil of Greater Invisibility. With her form unseen, she descended the stone steps gracefully, navigating towards a secluded balcony overlooking an inner courtyard, where a lush trellis draped heavily with vines and flowers beckoned to her from across a wooden archway. This botanical ladder could be her escape or her end—it all hinged on her next moves. One step at a time. Just breathe, she instructed herself.

As she reached the base of the trellis, Sima paused, her breath misting in the cool air. Her invisibility shielded her from prying eyes, and the world around her seemed to hold its breath. The courtyard was a canvas of shadows and silhouettes, each one concealing potential dangers and promises. This was her moment. She could do this.

Meanwhile, Astarion was ensconced in the sanctuary of his study, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows across his brooding features. The pages of an ancient tome lay open before him, whispering arcane secrets into the heavy air. A goblet of wine sat untouched, its contents dark as blood. The silence that once comforted him now gnawed at his nerves, an oppressive force that grew with each passing moment. Something was wrong. His intuition flared—a silent alarm that something was amiss.

Sensing the void where Sima usually resided, Astarion's foreboding tightened his chest. Rising swiftly, he commanded the ambient light to brighten, chasing away some of the shadows that clung to the corners of the room. He strode from his study, his steps a silent echo on the plush carpet as he began a systematic search of the palace. She wouldn't dare try to escape... would she?

He moved like a shadow through the hallways, his presence barely a whisper. The common areas offered no sign of her; the guest rooms, when checked, revealed nothing but the lingering scent of absence. With each empty room, his frustration mounted, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Where are you, Sima? he thought.

His search grew frantic as he swept through the kitchens, the storerooms, even the sacred quiet of the library—each space as devoid of her presence as the last. A simmering anger began to seethe within him, the sharp reality of her disappearance slicing through him like a blade. She can't escape me. She is mine.

In a fit of rage, he grabbed a decorative vase and hurled it across the room, the shattering of porcelain echoing his internal turmoil. A nearby mirror caught his reflection, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. With a swift motion, he shattered the mirror with his fist, the glass splintering into a thousand shards. He would not let her slip through his fingers.

High above the ground, Sima began her precarious ascent. The trellis creaked softly under her weight, the vines sturdy yet reminding her of the danger with every slight movement. Her hands gripped the wooden frame, her body pressed close to the foliage as she climbed towards freedom. Just a little more. Almost there.

As Sima straddled the ancient wall, ready to descend into the embrace of the city, the cold stone beneath her contrasted sharply with the potential warmth of freedom that beckoned just beyond. Below, the silhouette of Astarion’s dark figure emerged. He stood stark against the courtyard, a predator on the brink of action, facing the unwelcome dawn of her absence with a menacing resolve. She's trying to leave me, he thought, half-crazed with rage. She will regret this.

Reaching the pinnacle of the wall, Sima's eyes swept over Baldur’s Gate. Below her, the Temple District loomed, its clustered spires and sacred edifices etched starkly against the night sky, a sanctified haven set amidst the bustling expanse of the city. From this height, the entire Upper City unfolded like a map under the stars, the silent buildings calling to her with secrets of freedom and peril. So close. She could almost taste it.

As the night air stirred her hair, the distant murmur of voices rose from below, blending with the sound of the sea lapping at the city's edges. It was a quiet, peaceful view, deceptively serene, belying the tension of her precarious situation. This was it. Now or never.

Surveying her escape route, Sima scanned the landscape for a viable descent. Though hard to discern in the dim light, several shadow-drenched spots promised a safe landing. It seemed straightforward enough—if she could just reach a darkened corner, the city's labyrinthine streets would offer shelter and anonymity. She had to make it. She couldn't stay here.

Glancing back, Sima's heart pounded as she spotted Astarion at the base of the trellis. His attention was riveted on the discarded dress, and his expression darkened—a mixture of confusion and dawning clarity playing across his features. His gaze then lifted, scanning the trellis with a sharp intensity. The moonlight cast his face in stark relief, highlighting the grim set of his jaw and the fierce determination in his eyes as he tried to pierce the veil of her invisibility. He was looking for her. She had to move now.

At that moment, Sima leapt. Mid-air, she cast Feather Fall, her spell shattering the cloak of invisibility in a cascade of ethereal sparks. The magic softened her descent, allowing her to drift towards the cobbled freedom of the streets below. Please, let this work, she thought.

Astarion's head whipped around at the sound of the spell, his sharp eyes catching the briefest glimpse of Sima's form before she vanished into the night. A surge of urgency propelled him forward. He was not just a jilted lover or a watchful guardian now; he was a hunter in his own right, his every sense sharpened by the chase. She wouldn’t get away. Not this time.

With predatory swiftness, he surged forward, his silhouette a menacing blur against the moonlit stones of the courtyard. Sima hit the ground running, her leathers melding with the darkness as she dashed through the Upper City. The cobblestones echoed beneath her frantic steps, each sound a drumbeat in her nocturnal symphony of escape. The city unfolded around her in a whirl of shadows and starlight, every alley and avenue a potential refuge or trap. Keep going, she thought dizzily. Don't stop.

In her wake, Astarion burst from the palace grounds, driven by a potent mix of determination and looming dread. He knew the streets she might take, the paths she could choose, but catching her was no longer merely a matter of tracking—it had become a desperate race through the night and against the haunting specter of losing her forever. I can't lose her, he thought. Not again.

As Sima dissolved into the winding maze of Baldur’s Gate, the horizon remained cloaked in the deep embrace of night—a forewarning of a fate she might have eluded had she remained captive. Above, the stars held their vigil, casting a faint glow on her path. This was no mere escape; it was a defiance against a lover transformed into a tormentor, a stand against a destiny that sought to erase her very soul.

Racing through the shadow-strewn streets, her heart thrummed with a mix of terror and exhilaration. Every fleeting shadow might be her undoing. Yet, Sima pressed forward, tearing herself from the oppressive clutches of the palace, fueled by a fierce determination to wrest back her life from the dark fates conspiring to chain it.

She was free. She wouldn't let him take her again.

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granulesofsand · 1 year ago

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🗝️🏷️ trauma, past and present

Mother’s Day didn’t bite so hard in the usual way. We get the

Mommy issues/mommy doesn’t love me;

I have kids out there and they might be dead or wish they were; and

The world is a shit place where loving mothers don’t get to raise their children and maltreatment is rampant but allowed

flavors of Bad Vibes, but the last two years the second one has been the worst. Currently it’s mostly the first, and we’ve been so busy with ongoing trauma that we don’t really have time to dwell on flashbacks and icky feelings from before. Don’t know if it’s a good thing, but it is a thing.

#ramcoa #tw ramcoa #tw child abuse #tw child death #traumagenic system #adaptive system #cdd system #osddid #complex dissociative structure

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mybodyisaflowerbed · 1 year ago

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wip intro ; operation get it right

about...

genre •/ fantasy, supernatural

setting •/ the world of erapiae, starting in the year amber 98.

overall goal •/ undetermined, ongoing series of short multi-chaptered stories, to be posted on ao3 as written.

narrative •/ third person, alternating pov, present tense. past tense will be used in flashbacks.

target age range •/ 18+

themes/tropes •/ found family, memory, healing, revictimization, breaking cycles, doing what you need to instead of what you want to, dreams and nightmares, childhood and what it means to not have had one, grief/mourning, learning who you are for the first time, making peace with unhappy endings, all kinds of love, platonic soulmates.

content warnings •/ depictions of trauma and mental illness, past child abuse, self harm, suicidal ideation/behavior, violence, manipulation, sexual assault, past dehumanization, suggestive content.

taglist (ask to be added/removed) •/ none yet!

the story...

• centers around a group of six amateur Selhuni; mystics who lead spirits to rest and who tame rogue automatons (excess magick that has gained sentience).

• this group is known as the Lator Amores Selhun.

• as these Selhuni conquer more and more supernatural cases, they begin to encounter more and more mirror images that force them to face their own traumas.

• they are left with two choices; get it right or be crushed under the weight of everything they've experienced.

the lator amores + co ...

• lyssa saulsbury (she/her): a 22-year-old human and dreamwalker. co-founder of the lator amores selhun. brave, assertive, and protective, the role of leader tends to fall naturally to lyssa.

• stitches (they/them): a 23-year-old mimic. co-founder of the lator amores selhun, and the only member to be legally recognized as a selhuni. quiet, stoic, and highly observant, stitches is resolutely devoted to all they care for.

• zellia denia (she/her): a 23-year-old human and a soulsinger. a clever wordsmith with a devil-may-care attitude, zellia's reckless and careless behavior masks a wealth of insecurity.

• faeldil (she/her): a 22-year-old adynamos, descended from an eclectic collection of naga, nymphs, and faeries. though undeniably kind and sweet, faeldil has a clear-headed bluntness and firmness about her that makes her hard to step on.

• silver verniron (he/him): a 22-year-old human with a deep connection to the spirit world. despite his best attempts to remain aloof and cold-hearted, silver cares very much and feels very deeply.

• piggy (she/her): a 19-year-old human and an untamable. though she is unabashedly empathetic and enthusiastic, piggy is far more easily frightened than one might expect - and has not yet been given many chances to mature.

• blaire hawthorne (she/her): a 27-year-old human. a respected occult/supernatural journalist who takes a special interest in the lator amores after some... odd encounters.

• thera gyrhuia (she/her): a 22-year-old human. an aggressive brawler and a self-conscious poet. silver's girlfriend.

• bonesaw mintzdotre (she/her): a 24-year-old human. edgy, tough, and somewhat antisocial. a once-friend of silver.

• vendetta (he/him): the corrupt who is currently inhabiting a corner of silver's mind.

• the girl (she/her): possibly a figment of lyssa's imagination.

• elias seyixes (he/him): a demon. don't worry about him right now.

• snicket (he/him): an annoying, conceited ghost who is, unfortunately, just as knowledgeable as he gives himself credit for.

• teddy longview (he/him): a 7-year-old boy that warrants a sign reading "don't speak to strange children" in his neck of the woods.

#FINALLY!! I MADE THE INTRO #writeblr #writers on tumblr #my wip #get it right #wip intro

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starwarsultimateseriesproject · 1 year ago

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star wars the peacecoming

star wars the peacecoming, the story focuses on the tragedies involving the jedi order conscription in the pre clone wars, and the jedi super soldiers coming to terms with their origins, the story of daisy who, after years of manipulation, escapes the jedi order on coruscant, the story is told in a non linear fashion, jumping back and forth between daisy's past escape from the jedi order and her present involvement in a battle against the cis battle droid army, art style: live action/cgi/reality 3d art style, rated: the teen rated.

Star Wars: The Peacecoming

Overview

Setting: Pre-Clone Wars era, with significant focus on the Jedi Order's conscription and the creation of Jedi super soldiers.

Plot: The story revolves around Daisy, a former Jedi super soldier, and her journey of self-discovery and rebellion. It explores the tragic consequences of the Jedi Order's manipulations and the struggles of coming to terms with one's origins.

Narrative Style: Non-linear storytelling, alternating between Daisy's past escape from the Jedi Order on Coruscant and her current battles against the CIS Battle Droid Army.

Art Style: Live action/CGI/reality 3D.

Rating: Teen.

Main Characters

Daisy: A former Jedi super soldier who escapes the manipulative grip of the Jedi Order. Her character is complex, showcasing both vulnerability and strength as she navigates her past and present struggles.

Jedi Masters and Trainers: Key figures in Daisy's past who were responsible for her training and manipulation. Their interactions with Daisy are pivotal in understanding her trauma and motivation.

CIS Battle Droid Army: The antagonistic force in the present timeline. Daisy's battles against them are a metaphor for her internal struggles and her fight for freedom.

Supporting Characters: Fellow Jedi escapees, members of the CIS, and other allies who aid Daisy in her journey, each adding depth to the overarching narrative.

Story Arcs

Daisy's Past:

Conscription and Training: Flashbacks to Daisy's induction into the Jedi Order, showcasing the rigorous and often brutal training she underwent to become a super soldier.

Manipulation and Control: Exploring the psychological manipulation Daisy experienced, including moments of doubt, fear, and the breaking points that led to her decision to escape.

The Escape: A detailed account of Daisy's daring escape from Coruscant, highlighting her ingenuity and determination.

Daisy's Present:

Battle Against the CIS: Daisy's involvement in the ongoing conflict with the CIS Battle Droid Army, showcasing her combat skills and strategic mind.

Coming to Terms: Her struggle to reconcile her past with her present, finding allies and facing old foes.

Resolution: The climax where Daisy confronts the remnants of her past, leading to a resolution that brings peace or further conflict, setting up potential future narratives.

Themes

Identity and Freedom: Daisy's journey is a powerful exploration of self-identity and the quest for freedom from past traumas.

Manipulation and Control: A critical look at the darker side of the Jedi Order's practices, questioning the ethics of their conscription methods.

Courage and Resilience: Highlighting the strength it takes to overcome manipulation and the resilience needed to fight for one's beliefs.

Art Style

Live Action/CGI/Reality 3D: The blend of these styles aims to create a visually stunning and immersive experience, bringing the emotional depth of Daisy's story to life with realistic and captivating visuals.

Summary

"Star Wars: The Peacecoming" offers a unique and emotionally charged narrative set in the Star Wars universe. By focusing on the inner turmoil of a former Jedi super soldier and her journey towards self-acceptance and freedom, it provides a fresh perspective on the impact of the Jedi Order's practices. The non-linear storytelling enhances the depth of the plot, making it a compelling and engaging story for fans of all ages.

#star wars #star wars art #star wars fanart

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drkarenhawk · 4 months ago

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Healing from Trauma with Dr. Karen Hawk’s Compassionate Counseling

Trauma is a deeply personal and often life-altering experience that can leave lasting emotional, psychological, and even physical scars. Whether it stems from childhood experiences, abuse, loss, accidents, or other distressing events, trauma can shape how individuals view themselves and the world around them. Without proper support, the effects of trauma can persist for years, manifesting as anxiety, depression, trust issues, or even physical symptoms.

Dr. Karen Hawk, a compassionate and skilled clinical psychologist based in Arizona, specializes in helping individuals heal from trauma. With her warm and empathetic approach, she guides clients through their recovery journey, offering them the tools and support needed to regain a sense of peace, empowerment, and emotional well-being.

Understanding Trauma and Its Effects

Trauma can be categorized into different types, including:

Acute Trauma — Results from a single distressing event, such as an accident, natural disaster, or assault.

Chronic Trauma — Occurs over a prolonged period, often due to ongoing abuse, neglect, or domestic violence.

Complex Trauma — Involves multiple traumatic events, usually interpersonal in nature, which deeply affect an individual’s emotional and psychological state.

The effects of trauma can vary but often include:

Flashbacks or intrusive thoughts

Emotional numbness or detachment

Difficulty trusting others

Anxiety, panic attacks, or hypervigilance

Depression and low self-esteem

Trouble forming healthy relationships

Unexplained physical symptoms such as headaches or fatigue

Healing from trauma requires patience, self-compassion, and the right therapeutic approach. Dr Karen Hawk psychologist provides a safe space for individuals to process their experiences and develop strategies to regain control over their lives.

Dr. Karen Hawk’s Approach to Trauma Recovery

Dr Karen Hawk psychologist Phoenix tailors her treatment to each individual, understanding that trauma impacts people in different ways. Her compassionate counseling focuses on:

1. Creating a Safe and Supportive Environment

Trauma survivors often struggle with feelings of vulnerability and mistrust. Dr. Hawk prioritizes building a therapeutic relationship based on trust, respect, and empathy, allowing clients to feel secure in sharing their experiences.

2. Trauma-Informed Therapy

Dr Karen Hawk psychologist uses trauma-informed care, which means she considers how past experiences shape current behaviors, emotions, and thought patterns. She ensures that therapy is sensitive to triggers and empowers clients rather than re-traumatizing them.

3. Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT) for Trauma

CBT is a proven approach that helps individuals challenge and change negative thought patterns linked to their trauma. By reframing thoughts and developing healthier coping mechanisms, clients can begin to break free from the emotional grip of past experiences.

4. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR)

For those struggling with intrusive memories or flashbacks, EMDR is an effective therapy that helps the brain reprocess traumatic events, reducing their emotional intensity and allowing individuals to heal.

5. Mindfulness and Grounding Techniques

Dr Karen Hawk psychologist teaches mindfulness strategies that help trauma survivors stay present and reduce overwhelming emotions. Grounding exercises, such as deep breathing, visualization, and sensory awareness, can provide immediate relief from distressing thoughts.

6. Addressing the Physical Impact of Trauma

Trauma is not just psychological — it can also manifest physically. Dr Karen Hawk psychologist Phoenix integrates techniques that help individuals reconnect with their bodies, including breathwork, gentle movement, and stress-reducing activities.

7. Strengthening Resilience and Self-Compassion

Healing from trauma is not just about processing past pain but also about rebuilding a sense of self-worth and resilience. Dr. Hawk helps clients cultivate self-compassion, set healthy boundaries, and rediscover joy in their lives.

Stories of Transformation

Many individuals who have sought Dr. Karen Hawk’s guidance have experienced profound healing.

Lisa, a survivor of childhood trauma, struggled with trust issues and anxiety for years. Through therapy with Dr Karen Hawk psychologist, she gradually learned to process her past, build healthier relationships, and regain confidence in herself.

James, a combat veteran, experienced nightmares and severe PTSD after returning from deployment. With EMDR and CBT, he was able to reduce his triggers, reconnect with his family, and find peace in everyday life.

Megan, a survivor of an abusive relationship, felt trapped in cycles of self-doubt and fear. With Dr. Hawk’s support, she gained the strength to heal, establish boundaries, and embrace a future free from her past trauma.

Taking the First Step Toward Healing

If you or a loved one is struggling with the effects of trauma, know that healing is possible. Dr. Karen Hawk is dedicated to helping individuals navigate their recovery journey with empathy, understanding, and evidence-based therapeutic approaches.

Reclaiming your life after trauma is not about forgetting the past but about learning to move forward with strength and hope. Through compassionate counseling, Dr. Hawk helps clients transform pain into resilience and fear into empowerment.

If you’re ready to take the first step toward healing, reach out to Dr. Karen Hawk today. Your journey to peace, self-discovery, and emotional well-being begins here.

#dr karen hawk psychologist az #dr karen hawk az #dr karen hawk psychologist

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thedreadvampy · 3 years ago

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so today's learning from therapy (and yesterday's hospital appointment) is

my trauma lives in hospitals

it wasn't born there for the most part but it's taken up residence there apparently bc hospitals are consistently triggering for me in a way that I don't think any other environment is

like it's borderline hallucinogenic. it's a bad trip. just being in hospitals.

and when I say I'm scared of hospitals people act like I'm scared of something in hospitals. doctors. surgery. illness. death. pain. bad medical news. but honestly all of those are bad in an entirely chill and easy to manage way.

I am scared of hospitals because my trauma lives in hospitals. all hospitals are the same hospital and it's where my madness lives.

this sounds hyperbolic and it's not. I am aware that a hospital is a normal building doing understandable things. I understand how hospitals work.

also exam rooms and doctor's offices are fine in the same way death and illness and sensory overload are fine. it sucks but it's a normal kind of bad.

but hospital corridors, waiting rooms, wards, receptions and other non-immediate-practise spaces are nightmarishly wrong for me. time and space don't work right in them and there's a pervading wrongness to all of it. corridors go on too long and change when I'm not looking and then people say they've always been that way. all wards are the same ward. time doesn't work right and clocks move in fits and starts or disappear entirely. colorful fabric and artwork and "cosy" touches make everything feel worse and more unstable bc it's like draping flowery fabric over Cthulu we're all just pretending that we don't know that this space is deeply distressing and unstable and malignant. hospitals in my world operate on nightmare logic where stuff suddenly changes or becomes more threatening and now it was always that way. but you have to pretend everything's fine or it gets worse.

that's not hyperbolic or metaphorical that's my literal experience of hospitals. that's how hospitals actually are for me. and that's particularly disconcerting because everywhere else in the world is a normal amount of real, I don't have schizophrenia or unreality issues anywhere else. the world is just thin and wrong in hospitals and understanding why that is doesn't make it less true or make me more capable of making people understand that I'm not scared of what might happen in hospitals. hospitals are just a nightmarescape for me. because my madness spent too much time visiting hospitals in childhood and decided to take up residence there.

#i didn't realise how much i was still holding it together after my appointment yesterday #but talking to my therapist made me realise how exhausted i an #like i got through it i managed to pretend to be fine #but i really really really noticed how bad my hospital horror is #in that waiting room i was in 4 different years 5 different waiting rooms and an inpatient unit #overlaid flashbacks but also an ongoing awareness that the space ITSELF I WAS CURRENTLY IN was multiple spaces that weren't flashbacks #when i left my appointment the corridor was laid out differently and all the art in the walls had changed #and it turned 4 right turns and for a moment i was sure that i was going deeper instead of getting out #the air is wrong. the light is wrong. nothing makes sense.#and even seeing outside but being on the other side of glass makes me viscerally unsure it still exists #anyway the secret context clues for why this is are a) i have spent a lot of time from relatively early childhood in mental health units #not as a patient but in a position where like. i have the responsibility to be a stable and supportive influence. starting at like 9yo.#b) a late term abortion is a great way to accumulate medical trauma #especially in Tory slash bnp central where everyone's a reactionary prolifer #c) autism #d) invisible disabilities! doctors hate her!#e) maybe hospitals actually are hell dimensions and YOU'RE the weird one for NOT melting down as soon as you get past the entrance hall #red said

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superleeleehipster · 4 years ago

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Theories on Season 11

Hey! So, as I’m sure you all are very aware, Find Me is out, and I can honestly say that I’m somewhat relieved it did. I was tired of all the theories and anxieties I was feeling about it. At least now we know what we’re working with officially.

I don’t want to make a review, as most blogs have already done their own. For this post, I’m going to jot down some theories on what Leah’s role will be in Season 11. Some of these theories I’ve thought of and others I’ve seen from other bloggers, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down.

Of course, it’s just my opinion, and if you don’t agree, that’s perfectly fine.

Spoilers and theories under the cut...

So is everyone ok after 10x18? Yes? No? No worries on whatever your answer is; your emotions are valid.

Anyways, even though the episode was a bit painful to watch as Caryl shippers, I really don’t think it sunk the Caryl ship. If anything, the subtle (not really) parallels between Caryl and Daryl and Leah just showed that Caryl could very possibly happen despite all the naysayers saying they could never sleep together.

Also, can I say that the whole fish scene was freaking hilarious.

But I digress... I have a few predictions on how Leah’s going to fit into the storyline for season 11. I might hit the nail on the head, or I might be so off that I break my thumb instead, but that’s ok. It’s what makes it fun.

1) I’ve made this first part into a group of theories instead of just one. These are theories that I’ve heard about or read, but I really don’t think are going to happen. They’re just interesting enough for me to list them, but they’re unlikely in my opinion:

- Leah is in Season 11 but in flashbacks - I don’t think they would go this route, because it would be even lazier writing than what we’ve gotten, and it would be more interesting to have her in person instead of being in flashbacks. If they went that way, it would be incredibly obvious that she is a plotpoint for Daryl and that’s it, and that’s pretty crappy writing even for TWD.

- Leah is in Season 11 but she isn’t real - Now this one is an interesting concept admittedly. What if Daryl was in such a crappy mood in the woods, and is thirsting for companionship, so he makes someone up in his head that is pretty similar to Carol, but doesn’t look like her b/c he wouldn’t want to be that kind of creepy friend. Then in Season 11, the viewer realizes one way or another that she was made up, that he made her up in his head to help with his woes, but now that he’s better and with Carol he doesn’t need her anymore. Really neat theory from a mentality standpoint, but I highly doubt that’s where the writers would go.

- Leah is in Season 11, but she dies - I know some folks have said this before, and I get it. Some of us are so done with the drama, we’re just thinking the worst case scenario at this point. What if Leah comes back and Daryl’s all happy and thinks that he’ll spend the rest of his life with her but then Leah dies somehow and he decides to go on a roadtrip with Carol to help with his man pain. I know some peeps feel like that would happen, but in my opinion, I really don’t think so. Angela Kang does have a lot of respect for Daryl and Carol (I know we don’t feel that way right now b/c of 10x18 but bear with me), as she’s said that this is about their story and their journey I really don’t think she would have the story go as low and as misogynistic as that. I honestly don’t.

Now these next two theories are the ones that I believe have a much higher chance of happening in season 11:

2). Leah is in Season 11, and is a part of the new antagonist group (Reapers) - So it wouldn’t be a season of the walking dead without some sort of antagonist being around. The Reapers have already made their presence known with the first extra episode, and I’m sure is going to cause issues throughout the season. An interesting theory that I’m a fan of that people have thought up already is that Leah is part of the Reapers. Whether she’s the leader or one of the followers, it doesn’t really matter, for she’s still a plot device for Daryl.

The current fantasy I’m having is that Leah comes back and tries to get close to Daryl, which Daryl isn’t necessarily against but is still wary. But then Carol notices things about Leah and catches her doing stuff and she’s like “wtf?” and she tells Daryl her concerns but he brushes her off because he doesn’t trust her judgment very much right now. Most ASZ peeps think Leah is a good person but Carol’s like “mehhh something’s off”. Then the reveal happens where Leah is a double agent of sorts and betrays them all by having the Reapers infiltrating Alexandria or some crazy shit like that. Then it looks like she kills Carol in some way and Daryl’s absolutely gut wrenched because his Carol just died at the hands of his crazy ex girlfriend that he believed more than his best friend and what the fuck is wrong with him?? But then Carol comes back and butchers the Reapers cause she’s a goddamn queen and Daryl looks at her like she could fart fairy dust and gives the biggest smile we’ve ever seen him give on the show. Then he hugs her fiercely and starts sobbing, telling her how sorry he was and how relieved he was at her being alive and... same old story that’s happened on MULTIPLE occasions with other shows and books.

Now considering how Leah is made out to be in 10x18, I would say this theory is ‘less likely’ than what I thought it would be originally, but there’s still a decent chance. I don’t think Leah’s a cold blooded/narcissist, but it’s possible she could get roped up with the Reapers... and lets face it, Daryl isn’t the same person from who he was in the woods, so there’s a good chance she won’t be either when she comes back.

3). Leah is in Season 11, and pushes for a relationship with Daryl - Admittedly, this one would hurt to watch, but I think it’s a fair possibility we can’t rule out. Daryl is arguably at a better headspace now than he was way back when in the woods, and he knows he belongs with his family. But then Leah shows up and wants to start things over with him, and it could go multiple ways. He could realize right away that he doesn’t want that, and maybe he and Leah both get closer together. Or maybe he will give it a try for old times sake, but then he realizes that she’s not the person she was, or whom he thought she was, and they’re not actually a good pairing, and then he realizes “you know who I really want? That grey haired queen”... it would probably more emotional than that though.

I mean, we’ve all been there. We break up from a long term partner and it hurts like hell but we heal and we’re stronger for it. But then the ex comes back and is wanting to be with you again, and you’re at the very least tempted to give it a go b/c you were happy with them at one point. But then you’re with them and you realize that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, and maybe you should’ve listened to your goddamn gut all along b/c it was warning you that there’s a reason why it didn’t work out the first time.

Arguably, this theory would be more satisfying than the last one, because it would be Daryl who would choose who he would want to be with in the end. Think about it. We were initially bummed that Ezekiel wasn’t going to get his comic death in season 9 (and of course we were pissed about Henry), but then it turned out for the better because Carol willingly chose to leave him instead of being forced out of the relationship via death. So for Daryl to choose Carol over Leah in the end would be incredibly satisfying, albeit looooong overdue...

I still very much think Caryl is endgame despite the tough road we’re facing. I know folks are taking this last hurdle really hard because it’s been ingrained in our heads that Daryl is a “one woman kind of guy”, but... maybe that’s still the case. Maybe his heart is a “one woman kind of organ”, but Daryl’s been able to move past his traumas enough to be physical with more than one person. At least that’s how I’m seeing things at the moment. Obviously, it’s not good taste to go completely backwards on what is “known” about a character and assume that the audience would catch on as to why it would happen (like how Daryl reading the “children of abuse” book was never addressed in the show, but we’re having to assume he did b/c Norman said he did). Hoping the audience assumes the things that the writers are thinking of has always been an ongoing issue with TWD, so this whole shindig wasn’t necessarily surprising to me.

Anyways, that’s my two cents on things. I still think they’ll happen, and I still trust Kang. I’m just thinking of this as just the angsty part of a fanfic that I love and adore, and I just have to grit my teeth and wait for the author to finish writing the next chapter before hauling ass to my computer to see the update and breaking my desktop in the process. We’ll get to the healing part, I promise.

And if the spin is anything like the playful banter between them in this episode (albeit more mutual and fun), then sign me the fuck up and let me be a voyeur in their passionate travels.

Cheers my loves!

#caryl #caryl positivity #twd spoilers

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crown-anon · 4 years ago

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hi!! I write things sometimes :)

I'm gonna revamp this post soon. I'm working on a google form for requests so you don't have to go through all the rules every time you want me to write something. I know they're easy to forget!

general rules

I write most genres. even if I've never heard of it before, I'd probably like writing it

I write AUs, but I'm not very knowledgeable about them. I'll ask you to explain an AU in more detail if I've never heard of it before

I write for existing ships and reader inserts. I'm neutral on the pro/anti ship discourse, and whether or not I'll write a toxic relationship is really on a case-by-case basis. ask first

I write headcanons (bullet list format), imagines (short with several paragraphs, dialogue, continuity, etc.), and one-shots (like imagines, but a lot longer & more structured). specify your desired format in your request

I write multiple separate relationships ("multiple characters") for headcanons and imagines, at your request. in general, the more separate relationships, the shorter each headcanon/imagine will be

I write poly relationships! when requesting multiple people for headcanons and imagines, specify if you mean poly. otherwise, I'll assume you mean multiple mono relationships. I also write poly in one-shots

I write references to past abuse ambiguously in the context of healing and recovery. flashbacks included

I write self-harm and gore, past and present, if you want. I find it cathartic

I don't write for woman or she/her readers. it makes me really dysphoric. I assume readers are gender-neutral, so specify if you prefer something else, please

I don't write for OCs. I'd like to keep my reader inserts as inclusive as possible for any audience who desires to read them, not just the original requester

I don't write ongoing abuse. yandere is abuse

constructive criticism is welcomed and desired!!

if I produce any content that makes you uncomfortable, ask me to tag it and I will :) we do not have to be mutuals, reader comfort is my top priority. I'm starting out with the AO3 rating and content warning system for now. eventually this post will contain a tag list for your convenience

if there is a request that I don't want to write for whatever reason, I'll answer it and address it. I know it feels bad to be left waiting and wondering

if you as a requester want the reader to, or pointedly not, express their gender a certain way (like makeup and dresses, or suits, or whatever, especially if it's GNC for their gender), let me know so I can incorporate your preferences in the writing!

I'm still in school, so…go easy on me, haha. but I graduate this spring so fucking POG. even so, my posting will be irregular and unscheduled because mental illness 💔 so be prepared for that

in the future, I want to write for many fandoms! they will all have their own subsets of rules, as follows:

minecraft youtube (MCYT) rules

I currently only write for the dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound, and Sapnap. this is subject to change in the future as I consume more MCYT content and become more acquainted with other creators. I don't think I could do them justice at this time

if a content creator sees this and is uncomfortable with something here, 1. I am so, so sorry, & 2. DM me and I'll remove it :)

I haven't had the time to watch dream SMP, so I can't write for the characters, I only write for the real life people right now. this is subject to change. I will, however, write for them in a minecraft setting if it is wanted, just not in the actual SMP. and no spoilers, please!

I use their real names (unless they've said it makes them uncomfortable). if you're requesting something and you want me to use their screen names instead, please specify

enjoy your stay!! xoxo

edited 10 March 2021

explicit content will be tagged "#limeade-zest," so block that tag if you don't want to see it.

explicit rules (under the cut)

I write dubcon in most cases, usually only with implied consent (e.g. anything that was negotiated in advance, like somnophilia)

I write most kinks. if you're requesting smut, specify which, if any, kinks/dynamics you wish to include

I don't write dom/little, as it is a trigger of mine

I don't write noncon or CNC. you can thank the trauma for that one!

I don't write tickling. I refuse to associate that with sex. I just can't do it

I don't write unsanitary kinks. (is spit-as-lube unsanitary? spit-as-lube is alright.) I specifically mean things like coprophilia, emetophilia, and urophilia

on the subject of anatomy, if you as a requester want me to use certain language when referencing the reader's body, please specify! I do write for readers with AFAB bodies, as well as (obviously) AMAB bodies and transmasculine bodies at any stage. I would love to include intersex, but I am not very knowledgeable on that, so bear with me, please

enjoy your stay!! xoxo

edited 10 March 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #george davidson x reader #sapnap x reader

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lesbianfeminists · 5 years ago

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“Besides simple and complex trauma, there is also a third, less often discussed type of trauma, which I feel is highly relevant to chronic illness, likely more so than the concept of PTSD. It is trauma that is ongoing and known as continuous traumatic stress (CTS). In some sources, the acronym refers to a continuous traumatic situation, as by many authors it’s not considered to be a mental health issue, but a normal response to highly unsafe living conditions. Most studies on continuous trauma have been done in areas with ongoing conflict, but that does not mean that only those people can develop CTS, there is just a scarcity of research.

The difference between PTSD and CTS is crucial, even though some trauma literature conflates CTS with cPTSD. Ordinary trauma, whether caused by a single incident or multiple ones, is a past assessment of unsafety that generally has ceased to to be true. Some parts of your brain are stuck to the past. On the other hand, continuous trauma is more about our current life and the future than the past, and it is not an inaccurate assessment. Even if we experience flashbacks, we tend to be much more frightened by future medical care. We don’t have post-traumatic stress, we live among constant trauma.”

#women’s health

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turtletaubwrites · 9 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 34

Can You Pretend?

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

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 11.3k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Taste of You ~ Rezz Feat. Dove Cameron | Crazy On You ~ Hidden Citizens

Summary: Getting to know the hunters is getting to you, especially when your own past gets too much attention.

Ch. 33 ~ Recap: You decided that you would kill Shanks for Buggy if he forced you to marry him, and Shanks realized that there was hatred behind your eyes. Mihawk confessed his plan to be the villain so that he could bring you back to Buggy. Crocodile and Buggy encouraged him to try to find another way.

Author's Note: I can't believe that all of these random thoughts I braindumped months ago are finally getting into the story 🥰🥰

Dark Content Warning: There's plenty of fun in this chapter, but there are some extremely potentially triggering scenes. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these might be triggering for you!!! I’ve included a summary directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scene. The summaries will be bracketed with ~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~ Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️ I didn't bracket that scene, but please remember who they are! I still love my sweet, bad boys 🥰 but you have been warned!!!!

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if childhood trauma regarding parents fighting could be triggering. Flashback of very small children witnessing/hearing their parents having a very heated argument, from the child's POV. The topic of the fight is a bit of a spoiler, so if any kind of relationship trauma could trigger you, you can check the summary first before diving in.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness episodes, treatment, or hospitals might be triggering for you.

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat wasn’t here.

Your sister wasn’t here with her wide eyes that were usually sharp with disdain, but always held concern for you. Always held an attention to your needs that you didn’t want her to carry.

But not tonight.

“How is this supposed to be protective? Shouldn’t you be giving me some fucking oven mitts?”

Your sister was nowhere to be seen, and you were trying extra fucking hard not to scream at the staff while they squeezed you into this too-tight, leather get up. The endless straps and studs seemed to be purposely placed in the least comfortable places.

“I assure you, Miss Sylvad, this outfit will be highly protective.”

That voice came wafting over from the corner, Uncle’s favorite assistant finally breaking her silence when she slinked toward you. Her unnervingly straight hair was almost hypnotizing as it swayed with her movements.

You scowled at her.

“Funny, I’ve never seen a chef in leather before.”

“Then you haven’t been in the right kitchen,” she teased. “Bethany, please demonstrate to Miss Sylvad how to undress on her own, just in case. Baking can be so messy.”

Darla reached out to touch one of the dangling zippers along your side, and you almost gave in. Almost lunged for her fucking throat.

“It’s been almost two years now, hasn’t it,” you asked instead, letting true pity coat your voice.

“Since what, Miss Sylvad,” she smirked. She was still too fucking close.

“Since you became his favorite,” you soothed, patting her shoulder. “Better set aside all the berry you can now, Darla. When Uncle drops people, they tend not to get back up.”

“There’s no need to be cruel, sweetie,” your mother breezed in with a smoothie. She took a sip while she walked up to you, giving the assistant no choice but to move out of the way.

You were too busy getting a brain freeze to spit one of your usual retorts, although the urge to ask about your sister nearly pushed past the discomfort.

~~~

The courtyard filled with applause at the sight of you, and your Sylvad smile deepened when you imagined the most satisfying ways to silence the vultures. The huge screen showed you strutting down the path, which was the only way you could fucking walk in that domestic dominatrix outfit.

They’d even given you a tiny, studded apron.

Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let it in.

There she was.

Kat was staring at you, her face comically shocked, and you hoped your own shock didn’t show.

Your sister was seated with the Vinsmoke family, and the brothers seemed to be caught in a loop of gawking at you, and returning their attention to her. Their lustful, puppy dog eyes were comical on their own, but watching them look at her like that flashed too many feelings through you that you didn’t have time to name.

Yeah, it would be weird to marry her favorite.

“May I offer you a ride, Miss Sylvad?”

“A ride,” you asked, almost squeaking when that velvety voice draped over you. You’d been so distracted by your sister, you hadn’t realized that the massive pillars you were heading toward were covered in leather and spurs.

And waiting for you.

“A ride...”

Your head barely reached above his knees, which happened to have deadly looking spikes on them, pointed straight for your throat. Thankfully, Katakuri shifted them away before he kneeled down. He waited for your nod, then grabbed you so gently around the middle, and it took everything in you not to squeal when you soared through the air.

“You can hold onto this if you like, but I promise that I will catch you if you fall.”

“Mhm, thank you,” you hummed nervously to the side of his face, clinging to another large spike on his shoulder that was hidden beneath his scarf.

It was surprisingly warm this high up as you perched on the heat of his body. The feathers of his scarf were comfortable, slightly tickling around you.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“I think I’m supposed to be,” you joked, earning what you thought was a smile beneath all those feathers. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be taller than these trees.”

“I’m not a giant, Y/N.”

What a voice… If you weren’t scared of getting knocked off of his shoulder by a branch, you might have passed out.

“Just, uh, king-sized then?”

That crimson eye turned its attention to you, and his next words almost did knock you out.

“I hope that you’ll find me… husband-sized, Miss Sylvad. May I set you down?”

“Mhm,” was all you could manage, until you were clinging to his hand again. Your date held you aloft while he sat cross legged on a grassy hill, setting you down in front of the strangest kitchen equipment you’d ever seen. There were two sets of everything for your different sizes, all in neon colors that looked surreal under the golden sky.

Your grin faded for a second when you noticed the staff and their snails in the surrounding trees, but you shook it off.

“What are we making?”

~~~

You were so messy.

“They don’t have to be perfect, Y/N,” Katakuri chuckled while you struggled to shape your dough into circles. “And we need to let the dough rise for an hour before we fry them.”

“An hour?”

“Good things take time.”

He motioned you toward the sink, and you washed yourself up before giggling while you held out the hose for him. His soapy water slid down the side of the hill, and your mind flashed an image of you leaping onto it like a water slide.

“This is a good laugh. I hope to hear more of this one from you.”

Katakuri had frozen you again, your laughter fading while you watched him dry his hands on a towel the size of a rug.

You never thought you’d feel smaller than you had with…

No.

Buggy had a real name.

You’d gotten rid of the names from before. “First love.” “Second love.” They weren’t real.

But what should you call them?

Nothing. Stop thinking about them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” you took a breath, fixing your fucking face. “I’m just thinking about our doughnuts. We really have to wait an hour?”

“Would you like to go somewhere while we wait,” Katakuri’s voice rumbled over you until you shivered. “I can give us some privacy so we can speak freely.”

Privacy.

With this “not a giant,” giant man. A very pretty, giant man.

“I’d like that.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

They had all known this was going to happen, that Y/N would have to date the other men before she could leave with him.

Yet Shanks couldn’t stop feeling like a failure, so he latched onto any idea that might help him fix this.

His current idea was making him sick, but not as sick as Buggy must feel, listening to—

“Looks like we’re not the only ones hoping for a peek,” the red haired Vinsmoke laughed to his brothers.

Shanks needed to get his shit together. He’d noticed the three men before they emerged from the trees, but he’d forgotten why he should care about them.

Normally, they wouldn’t be a threat to him.

The blue haired one stepped up to smirk at him, and Shanks was almost sure his name was Niji.

“The Emperor of the Sea wanted another look, eh,” the blue one asked. “Didn't get enough of our little princess last night? Well, that’s a good sign. I’m looking forward to having a taste for myself.”

“Looks like we’re out of luck,” the green one— Yonji complained, pointing through the trees toward a large hill.

Shanks looked away from the princes so he wouldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t risk getting kicked out.

He couldn’t see her through that dome of mochi the massive pirate had caged her in.

She’s okay. She has to be.

“There might not be enough left of her to taste when he’s done with her.”

Shanks had to leave before he killed them, finding his own reclusive spot to stare at the giant wall between him, and the woman his two lovers loved.

Buggy was listening. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing the locket?

It was a small hope that did nothing for his guilt, or the well-deserved hate he’d planted in her.

Mihawk’s golden eyes filled his mind, tears making them impossibly beautiful when he apologized.

When he finally said it back.

It felt like hours went by while he watched that unmoving room. Useless.

I’ve never had… She helped Hawk open up. She made Buggy feel loved. It was her.

Shanks hit the back of his head against the tree he’d leaned on, until he remembered all of those cam-snails in the forest.

So the Emperor tried his best to imitate her. To put on that face. To pretend that everything was alright.

He had no idea how she hid so well. Shanks’ own hidden truths were stuffed so far down that he almost didn’t believe them himself, but she had to lie with every breath.

Y/N has a strength I never knew someone might need. Not like this.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

He wondered how many hours of his life had been drained away in dingy taverns just like this one. Hiding in the darkest corner, a book with a dragon on the cover still unread in his hand, the World’s Greatest Swordsman listened.

Mihawk didn’t expect to hear anything of note here, but he’d landed at Majiatsuka just early enough to book a room for the night. He couldn’t think about anything besides his need to protect her, and resisting his need to hop back on his boat, and go straight there.

“Hey, did you catch the feed tonight,” a red faced patron called out as two other drunks joined his table.

“Shh, Jacob, don’t say that shit so loud,” the one on the right laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know the whole thing’s illegal, right?”

“Yeah,” the one on the left spat, “and I know for a fact those assholes would only get a slap on the wrist, but poor folks like us? I don’t wanna know what kinda fine we’d get if we’re caught watching.”

That unread book was shut.

“I really hope they show the good stuff soon,” Right complained, leaning forward with a hushed, slimy tone. “Can you imagine what that giant dick must have done to that rich slut’s cunt?”

“Oh yeah,” Left agreed with a laugh. “I imagined it plenty of times after the feed last night. Can’t wait for that whore to—“

“Jacob, was it?”

Mihawk shoved Left’s headless body to the floor, stealing his chair to sit across from the whimpering man. He ignored the screams while the place cleared out, and he ignored Right’s headless body that was leaking blood onto the sticky table.

He had dirtied Yoru on their weak blood, so he cleaned his blade while Jacob pissed himself.

“Would you like to tell me everything you know about that feed, Jacob,” Mihawk drawled, more death waiting to pour from him. Endless death until he held her again. “Or…”

“I-I’ll tell you, please sir, p-plea—“

“Don’t waste my time, Jacob. Tell me about the feed.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

"I'd like that."

His eyes looked even prettier when you said those words.

He’s still a hunter. He’s still using you. Don’t forget.

“I’m going to use my devil fruit power to create a room around us. No one will be able to see or hear us, but I promise to lower it whenever you wish.”

He’s so careful with me. This leech must really want to win.

Your consent had hardly left your lips before your world became soft and pale, his power enveloping the entire hilltop, including the little kitchen and lamp posts that came with it. He'd kept everything except for the rotating pedestals that the nearest cam-snails had been perched on.

The smell in the air was slightly sweet, but the feeling of being trapped still crept in, almost leaving your throat in a scream.

“It’s alright, Miss Sylvad. I’ll drop it right now if you want me to, but I’d like to talk without the surveillance. I won’t move. I won’t touch you.”

Katakuri’s voice had lost the slight tease he’d been giving you, speaking in an almost businesslike tone.

So he’s good at pretending too.

“Thank you, Katakuri,” you mirrored his tone. “What would you like to speak with me about?”

Here it was. The old, familiar rhythm of negotiation that your dad had spent so many years making sure you understood.

“My little sister has been kidnapped by Emperor Blackbeard. Since my mother was defeated, I am ashamed to admit that we are not equipped to get her back on our own. Pudding is only sixteen, Y/N,” he urged, enough emotion in his words to make you pause, even with your determination to keep him out.

“I’m so sorry, but how can—“

“My family needs this marriage to happen, but I wanted you to know my true intentions. Please, marry one of us, Y/N. With the financial support your uncle has promised, we’ll be able to afford to bring an army with us to get her back.”

Those pretty eyes were urgent now. Almost desperate.

“There is nothing more important to me than protecting my family,” he whispered, although his voice was too large to feel quiet. “I swear that we will care for you. We will protect you with our lives. I’ll get you away from these people, Y/N. You’re an older sister, are you not?”

“Yes, but I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t make any promises yet. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

A heavy fear gripped your heart, your whole body fighting not to shake beneath this man’s fierce request.

He needed this.

What will he do to get it?

“I understand,” he nodded, taking a breath that could have sucked the air from the room. “We need you, but our relationship doesn’t need to be for duty alone. May I return to showing you the kind of husband I will be?”

“I’d like that.”

The truth of that surprised you, and you would have scolded yourself, but he moved. Stretching out his long legs, he laid on his side, propped up on his elbow.

“You didn’t choose these clothes,” he noted, almost a tease.

“How could you tell?”

Sarcasm, seriously? I really am insane.

“Leather molds to your body when it’s worn regularly. You don’t look very comfortable in that.”

Heat shivered through you, and his eyes went a bit wide.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—“

Laughter filled that sweet, soft room, a dam of tension breaking loose, and you would have joined him on the ground if your outfit wasn’t so stiff.

“Oh,” you caught your breath, “I’m laughing because you were right, not because I wouldn’t…”

Holy shit, I want to fuck him. There’s that fucking death wish again.

“What have you heard about me, Miss Sylvad?”

Absolutely nothing. Totally blank. Your brain couldn’t recall a single thought until you looked away from him, pacing over the soft ground.

“You’re a Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates,” you started listing the few details you could remember. “You ate the Mochi Mochi fruit. Your bounty is over a billion berries. Uh, you’re not a giant.”

You shrugged when you turned back toward him, and almost lost your thoughts again.

“Oh, and you never lie on your… Are you a side sleeper, then?”

Tingles danced over your skin while Katakuri laughed full out, an overwhelming sound. He leaned his head back, the feathers that covered his face moving with his breath.

“Why didn’t I think of that,” he rasped, still chuckling. “Would have been more comfortable than all the walls I’ve slept against.”

He sighed at the confusion on your face before rolling onto his back.

“So, you do lie on your back, but you sleep sitting up,” you frowned as you walked closer, almost reaching out to touch him.

“It was a lie I told to protect my siblings. A sacrifice that has made me strong for them, but always alone.”

“I’m sorry, Katakuri,” you reached out now, smoothing your palm over the pink skull tattooed on his arm.

“Don’t be,” he hummed, seeming so relaxed while he laid before you. “I recently lost a good battle, and it’s made me wonder if there are better ways that I can be a good brother.”

“Must have been one hell of a fight if Charlotte Katakuri is on his back for a stranger.”

You leaned against his arm, hoping that he’d take the playful tease. All the talk of protecting his siblings was taking your mind to places you’d rather not go.

You’d rather be following that death wish of yours.

“I don’t want you to be a stranger,” he whispered as he rolled back onto his side to look at you. “I want to take you away from these people. I want you to meet my sister, and we can bring yours with us. We can protect them both.”

“I don’t—“

“But my goal for tonight is to help you relax.”

There was absolutely no way you could relax.

“You’ve been doing so well, carrying whatever this weight is that your family has given you,” Katakuri praised. The touch of his fingers along your arm, and stroking down your back, felt dreamlike. Everything was strange and fuzzy.

“Thank you.”

“I have one more thing to share,” he rasped, taking back his hand to touch his scarf. “Hiding was something else I did for a sister. I think that reason is gone now, so all I’m left with are my own fears.”

“Is it fangs,” you breathed, trying to be light. “That’s what my guess is, which is totally fine! I’d be more freaked out if you had puppies under there or something.”

“Puppies,” he huffed a laugh, cocking his head.

“I don’t know,” you squeaked, unable to shut yourself up. “Is it scars? I thought I saw… you know, I actually think that scars are—“

“Cute.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you froze as a very large finger tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “That’s not the word I was thinking of, but they can be…”

“You are very cute, Y/N,” Katakuri hummed, and your mind blanked out again. “May I show you?”

You remembered how to nod, and luckily you’d already prepared yourself for what your suitor might be hiding.

That scarf was a small mountain of feathers when he removed it, all that softness gone, and replaced with sharp fangs, and scars that stretched from the corners of his lips to above his ears on either side. His fangs seemed almost like tusks, jutting out to stretch over his lips.

Then he opened his mouth.

“So I was right on both counts,” you gave a nervous smile at the sight of all of the sharp teeth in that mouth, not just the four large fangs that he couldn’t hide. “Do I win a prize?”

You knew that you’d been right about when he’d smiled before as you watched his whole face move with it now.

“Well, I believe it’s almost time to fry our doughnuts.”

~~~

“Mm, fuck! That’s so good, Katakuri.”

He laughed at you then, tossing the rest of the massive doughnuts into his wide mouth that seemed just a little less dangerous when it was filled with sweets.

You still had a plate of the smaller, glazed pastries, but the numbers were dwindling.

“This has been a lovely date,” you hummed, honestly feeling good for the moment. Katakuri had taken your mind away for a while, and it was a gift.

“Would you like it to be over,” he checked in, his brow arching even higher while he scanned you.

He’s still so pretty.

He made you shy, but you were bold enough to shake your head.

“Then would it be alright if I looked at you, pretty thing?”

Holy shit…

Katakuri had barely grazed your hip with his finger, but his voice went so deep, so dark, that you threw your head back, knees almost buckling.

He chuckled, helping you stay balanced while you struggled with all of the stiff bits of leather strapped to your body.

Your locket fell out from where you’d stuffed it into the tight material, and you tried to leave it on the ground. You really tried to leave it behind.

It was a chain of guilt and brightness around your neck, and the best you could do was carry it with you while you tried not to think about drifting further and further away from that daydream of a life.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N. May I create a bed for you so that I can see you better?”

Soon you were lifted up, perched on a mattress made of mochi that was too high for you to relax completely, until you forgot all about it.

“You want me to touch you, don’t you, Y/N,” he asked in that tone that sent you reeling. He had set you up a little higher than his shoulders, and he leaned over you, his face so close as he took in a breath. “Gods, you smell so sweet.”

Why am I already whimpering?

“I’m going to touch you now, but let me know—“

“Touch me, Katakuri, please!”

The sound he made when you begged made you arch your back, but then you were gasping, fear creeping back in as he spread your legs. He held your thighs apart with his hands while he stared at you like you were a treat for him to eat.

“I’ll be careful,” he breathed, a soothing threat while his sharp mouth hung open at the sight of you. “I’ll keep my head right here. Let me taste you, please. Let me fuck my tongue into you. I’ll be so—”

“Please! Gods, please— oh gods, oh f-fuck.”

Katakuri…

Katakuri’s tongue felt so good, so insanely good. You’d never thought to imagine what a tongue that size could do, but the press of it, the strength, the size, had you twitching and begging within seconds.

And he’d told the truth. He was so careful. Careful to hold your twitching legs so they wouldn’t go near his fangs. Careful to keep his mouth away from your skin, just his tongue reaching out.

That was all he needed.

“Kata-Katakuri…”

The precision he had was unbelievable. The flick of that huge tongue kept finding your clit over and over, and his pleased moans vibrated through you like a toy, an incredible toy. Then he did what you’d begged for.

Your nails looked so small digging into the back of his hands. He went slow, but soon his tongue was inside you, making you forget the world again.

“Don’t stop,” you begged weakly, surprised you could speak at all while the mochi bed sank toward the ground.

“We don’t have to stop,” he promised, smiling down at you while he traced his fingers over your skin. “But the bells are ringing outside. I believe our time is up.”

You whined.

“Does this mean that you’d like to see me again,” he laughed while you still struggled to move.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to answer that,” came your grumbled response.

“Mm, what about now?”

Katakuri had brought you one of those giant towels, but he dropped it to trace his finger all the way up your thigh, barely touching the twitching, needy flesh he’d just tasted.

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. My cute, little bride.”

~~~

No favorites. No least favorites.

Over and over and over.

You hadn’t expected to have any favorites, and you were pissed that you already seemed to have them mapped out.

Uncle Cedrick would use it against you, so it was better not to care either way, but your stupid brain wouldn’t stop.

Katakuri had joined your family for breakfast, so polite as he sat on the grass by the patio.

“What is your role, Kathryn?”

“Role,” Kat frowned at him.

“Position,” he tried again, glancing at you. “What do you do?”

“Kathryn is invested in her family,” Cedrick bragged, before scowling at you for speaking at the same time.

“Kat’s been studying business. Have you started your masters program yet,” you asked cheerfully, hating yourself for not asking sooner.

“No,” she mumbled as she caught your uncle’s gaze. “Too much family stuff going on.”

…

“I brought you all some doughnuts.”

~~~

Today’s hunt was for the “truth.” It had been your choice, but you were sick of this shit already.

“You’re a dog person,” Niji declared while his eyes traveled down your body.

“Well, I love dogs, but we’ve always had—“

“You don’t like spicy food.”

Oh thank gods, the bells.

~~~

Each hunter had to submit a list of their own questions, along with their guesses at what your answers would be. A lazy idea, but it was giving you a glimpse into what they thought of you.

“You really like my brother.”

“I don’t think it’s fair for me to answer that either way,” you teased.

How does he keep his hair from burning with those sparks?

Cracker gave you another maniacal grin, his bare chest like a wall that kept you from checking your Uncle’s expression. Yours was on display again, spread across the side of the building, so you did your best to school it.

“That’s alright. Everyone likes my brother. But you… You’re a picky eater.”

You gave him the win. It was true enough when it came to the food your family served.

~~~

“Redwoods are your favorite trees.”

“That’s right, Mr… Iceburg,” you smiled. You still hadn’t trained yourself to hate him for being here, for being a leech. He was still Mr. Iceburg in your mind, and that held too much weight.

He’d guessed the most truths so far, and that teenage crush of yours wanted to crush all of your caution away when he patted you on the head at the end of his turn.

Stupid brain.

~~~

“You like cookies.”

“I’m not sure if that counts, Emperor Shanks,” you flirted while you planned his gruesome death.

“You’re right, who doesn’t like cookies,” he smiled that infuriatingly charming smile. “I think that you like to dance, but might need a little more practice.”

More images flashed in your mind. Too fast. Too real.

His pulse against your skin. His strong fingers controlling you, digging into your hip while he pressed himself—

The ringing of those bells was your new favorite sound.

“I’ll give you that one, Shanks.”

You covered your hate with fluttering lashes, and a gentle bite to the lip that he always loved to stare at.

He wasn’t staring at it today.

Hot rage turned to icy fear when you saw that look in his soft eyes. Like he was seeing too far, too deep.

What did he see?

~~~

Giberson already smelled like whiskey when he folded his lanky body into the chair across from you. You were more jealous than anything else, wishing that you could numb this shitty lunch away.

“How are you doing, my dear?”

“Well, thank you, sir.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, that sharp smell getting stronger when he opened his mouth too wide. “Just call me Gibby. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Of course, Gibby,” you smiled. You knew you could do this. You could feel all the eyes on your skin. Appeasing an old man was nothing.

Just boring.

“Alright, where should we begin?”

The old man cleared his throat loudly, squinting at a notebook he’d pulled from his jacket, the silk lining gleaming in the sun.

“You received your degrees from Pucci University. Excellent school,” he hummed while you tried not to frown. “I would have expected a Sylvad to attend an older institution, given your connections, but I’m sure that the food alone had to be worth it. Did you enjoy your time in the Gourmet City?”

“I did...”

“Well, let’s keep going. We are on a time limit after all, and I’ve been looking forward to having you all to myself,” he winked before diving back into his notebook.

The Concealer. Information broker. Emperor of the Underworld.

What the fuck did he find?

“Ahh, you worked at Polestar Principal Bank, I believe? Upstanding establishment, and just a ferry ride away from Loguetown too. Did you meet any interesting pirates when you weren’t making the rich even richer?”

“W-well—“

“And I noticed that your family always moved with you when you went to a new island,” Giberson beamed, flicking the paper while he nodded. “I just love those strong family bonds. Shows true value.”

Smile. That was a compliment.

You didn’t believe the lie, but hoped that your face sold it while shame poured through you. Your eyes darted over to your sister against your will, finding her strained smile to reinforce your guilt.

Wherever you moved, your family had followed, dropping Kat’s life away every time.

“You enjoy reading fantasy novels, eating spicy food, and you’ve always loved cats.”

“Yes, I—“

“St. Poplar is your family’s original home. I saw that you attended St. Poplar Private School, but took a year off for independent studies before you returned to graduate at the top of your class. It’s strange though, I couldn’t find a scrap of information about that year, and it’s been bothering me for weeks now. Were you traveling abroad? I didn’t find any records of travel, or salaries for home tutors, or…”

Breathing. Were you breathing?

Eyes. So many eyes.

“Oh, dearie me,” Giberson sighed, setting down his evil notebook. “Please, forgive an old man his forgetfulness. That was after your father passed, was it not? Well, I’m grateful that you were able to take that time to be with your family, and I’m so sorry for—“

“It’s fine,” you lied in a voice that was too high, and too fucking fragile. “Do you have any other truths to guess?”

“It’s not a guess if it’s the truth,” Giberson teased while he raised his boozy drink, the ringing of bells coming to your rescue too late. “You are the loveliest, little lady in the New World.”

~~~

Having private conversations in front of servants had never felt comfortable, but this shit show kept leaving you with no other choice.

Tonight’s outfit was thankfully close to “normal” clothes, but hair and makeup were still taking too long to wait for privacy, and Kat had started first.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

You snorted at her little grimace, knowing that you were probably the only person she ever apologized to.

“Sorry, it’s all good,” you appeased her narrowed eyes.

Your sister had clearly been making an effort to be positive around you since you arrived, but it was comforting to see her being more herself.

“Did you have a good time with the Vinsmokes?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Kat brushed off, but she pinched her fingers together in her lap, and that odd guilt crept back in. “How was your date with Katakuri?”

“It was surprisingly lovely,” you rushed, ignoring her raised brows while you pushed on. “Do you not want me to marry a Vinsmoke? Because I can try not to end up with your favorite. I wouldn’t want you to—“

“Stop worrying about me,” your sister scolded, shaking her head while she huffed a laugh. “I actually wouldn’t mind being their sister-in-law. I’d love to go see their tech. Fucking hover boots? Honestly, you should marry one of them just for the shoes. I think you’d like their sister too, I hope you get to meet her soon. Their dad seems like a dick, but…”

The lead makeup artist caught your scowl when he blocked your view, so he turned your spinning chair, letting you see your sister’s flustered face.

“Are you sure,” you checked in again, too much guilt to stamp out so quickly.

“Would you shut the fuck up already,” Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re about to go on a date with a two story tall merman. I don’t need you to protect my feelings. I don’t even have any feelings about this, alright? I promise.”

…

“Cut it out,” she groaned at your searching eyes, “and tell me all about your lovely date with that giant, leather boy.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

kitty kat’s gonna wake up.

Loud noises had woken you. Loud, angry noises.

“You really think I can’t do math, Delaine?” Daddy’s voice sounded scary. “Whatever that thing is in there, it’s not mine.”

“Please, Arbo.” Mommy was crying. “Kathryn was premature, you heard what the doctor said.”

Mommy and Daddy were fighting about little Kitty Kat.

“Doctors that accept bribes tend to accept even higher bribes, wife.”

You couldn’t open the crib, and you knew you shouldn’t. You weren’t strong enough, or tall enough to climb inside with your little sister, so you dragged one of your chairs over to stand on, and reached your hands through the bars.

“It’s okay, Kitty Kat,” you whispered as you covered her tiny ears, pressing your face between the wooden bars to watch her breathe.

You didn’t want Sissy to be scared.

“Since you’re done denying it, why don’t you tell me who you were out fucking when you should have been with our daughter? How often did you leave her with the governess so you could go sink your claws into some other poor bastard?”

Daddy sounded mad, and sad.

“And where were you, husband?” That didn’t sound like Mommy. She sounded mean. “You expect me to wait around for months while you're out working, only for you to bore me to death when you grace us with your presence? Oh, please, Arbo! I just need to hear another one of your math stories. Please–”

why are they hurting each other? why won’t they stop?

“Shh, Kitty Kat, everything’s gonna be okay.” Sissy was starting to make little noises, and you couldn’t let her hear.

“Who was it?”

“Arbo–”

“WHOSE BABY IS THAT, DELAINE?”

“Daddy… Shh, Sissy. We’re okay.”

“S–Samson. It was Samson. Please, don’t hurt him, Arbo.”

“I’m not going to hurt the fucking chauffeur.” Daddy laughed. Scary laughs. Sad laughs. “I’m going to do him a favor, and make sure he never has to see your face again. Set him up with a nice job on the other side of the fucking planet.”

“Thank–”

“Don’t you dare thank me. You know what? You’ve got two choices, Delaine. Take his baby, and go live out your happy life with that unlucky chauffeur, or get your shit together, and pretend.”

“What–”

“If you want to keep being ‘Mrs. Sylvad,’ which I know you love more than your own family, then you need to put in the fucking work. Think you can do that, Delaine? Can you pretend to be a loving mother? A happy wife? That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, since I know there’s no real heart in that hollow chest of yours. Can you pretend?”

…

“Of course, Arbo, dear.” That sounded like Mommy. “I’ll do anything to make things right. Whatever will make you happy.”

“Just keep pretending. I’m taking my daughter to the East wing.”

“But… of course, husband. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

~~~

“Hi, sweet– oh, angel, no! Shh, shh, Daddy’s here.”

Daddy rushed toward you, wiping your tears as he pulled you away from Sissy’s crib. He looked scared, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

He carried you out before you woke her up, walking so fast until you were far away when he set you down.

“Daddy’s so sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to scare you. You were protecting your– protecting Kathryn, weren’t you?”

“Why were you and Mommy so loud?”

Daddy was crying.

“We were just talking, sweetheart, we’re okay. Everything’s okay, Y/N, I promise.”

Daddy was lying.

“Okay, Daddy.”

i can pretend for daddy. i can help him be happy again.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above is from the reader’s POV as a small child. She woke up to hear her parents arguing loudly about her baby sister, so she reached through the bars of the crib to cover Kat’s ears so she wouldn’t wake up, and get scared.

During the argument, Arbo accused Delaine of cheating, and asked who Kat’s father was. She admitted to the infidelity after Arbo implied that he had bribed the doctor she had bribed to keep it a secret. She told him that it was Samson, their chauffeur.

Arbo accused Delaine of neglecting the reader during her affair, while Delaine accused Arbo of expecting her to wait for months, and of “boring her” when he returned from business trips.

Arbo gave Delaine the option to take Kat, and go live with the chauffeur, or continue to be “Mrs. Sylvad,” by pretending to be a good wife and mother, and stated that he believed she cared more about that than her own family. Delaine agreed to pretend.

From the reader’s very young POV, she noticed that they both cried at different times, that Arbo often sounded mad, scary, or sad, and that Delaine sounded mean, and then “like Mommy again,” after she agreed to pretend.

Arbo came to get his daughter to stay with him in the East wing, and found the reader with her hands over Kat’s ears. He panicked and carried the reader away. He apologized for scaring her, and told the reader that they had just been talking, and that everything was okay.

The very young reader knew that he was lying, but decided that she would pretend too, so that she could help her dad be happy again.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This prince was already out of the game, but you were good at pretending. It helped that your costume for Fukaboshi’s date made you feel like a princess instead of a sex doll.

The crowd was still applauding while the platform lifted you into the air. Your light, flowy dress moved like gentle waves in the breeze, matching the shifting, ocean colors of the fabric.

You could have gone without all the shells in your hair, and the iridescent scales that were painted around your temples, your shoulders, and along the backs of your hands and wrists.

Fukaboshi’s soft smile was worth it though, as soft as shark teeth could be.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he tilted his head toward you, his mane of hair falling forward like glittering curtains. “You are as beautiful as sunlight on the water.”

No favorites. No least favorites.

~~~

“How did you know this was my favorite spot,” you beamed, trying not to feel woozy on the platform that had been perched atop your favorite cliff.

“I merely searched for the most beautiful waves on the island. You must know these waters well,” Fukaboshi praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a small thing.

You did know them well.

Fukaboshi’s people treated you like a princess, doting on you like you were already theirs. They caught and cooked your food before the sky grew dark. There was music, and stories, and dancers, and it should have been lovely, but with every moment, the tide crept further in.

Soon the waves were crashing loudly along the staggered cliffs, just barely reaching over the edge in a cascade of white that would grow and grow.

It had always been your favorite spot to scream.

“They are no longer listening to us.”

“Hmm?”

“I spoke too loudly the other day, didn’t I,” the prince sighed, glancing around at the now empty cliff. “My mother was never quiet in the face of injustice, but it seems that I have lost my chance now. You will be sending me home soon, will you not?”

Your mouth opened, but you took too long to lie.

“They are not listening, but I understand your caution. I want you to know that even if I do not get the resources my people need, I will still help you. We can leave right now, if you wish.”

Fear, hope, grief, and guilt all hit your veins like poison until you almost cried out in pain. Yet, you smiled. Not your Sylvad smile, but a true, sad curve to your lips before you could answer.

“I am so grateful for the offer, Fukaboshi, but I have to stay. I have my own responsibilities, and I won’t abandon them again.”

Silence rolled in, gentler than the growing tide.

“It may seem a strange thing to say given our situation, but you remind me of my mother.”

“Oh?” You didn’t know what kind of smile to give.

The merman pulled a locket the size of your face from a satchel at his side, and you turned to let the soft lights of the lanterns below show you what it held.

“That’s your… mom?” You’d left out the rudest word in that shocked sentence, but there was absolutely no way that tiny woman could have physically birthed him. No way she could have been with the person who had to be King Neptune, his face not even in the picture because he towered over her so thoroughly. “She was beautiful.”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, looking at the picture before tucking it away. “But she was also strong. Fearless.”

Your memory finally kicked in, and Queen Otohime’s assassination formed into something real, not just words on a page.

“I apologize,” Fukaboshi smiled. “You are carrying a weight, and I have added more.”

“No, it’s fine,” you didn’t lie. Sometimes just seeing pain that looked like yours felt like relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. Still, you tried to make things light. “I’ve been wondering about that bubble around your waist. Is it like the ones at Sabaody? I didn’t think they could last this far from the mangrove.”

Why am I so bad at making things light?

“So you’ve been to the archipelago,” the prince questioned. There was just a hint of anger in his words, but that hint felt very large as it shook through his enormous form.

“I… we have a home there. It was mainly for business, but my dad would always bring me so I could see the trees. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”

Sweet memories of bubble rides turned vile when you remembered how privileged you were.

“Well, I hope that you did not have to witness what my people are subjected to there. Children should be protected from such ugliness. Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to ignore or relish in that ugliness, and my people suffer the price.”

“I’m so sorry, Fukaboshi.”

The stars were difficult to see on the water now, the tide slamming against the cliffs again and again until the air was filled with salt. The prince stared at the spray, his fists clenching, almost shaking, and you hated that you could do nothing for him besides letting him leave, or getting him killed.

“My sister was chained while the celestial demons laughed at her tears,” he growled, shaking the wood beneath your feet. “I was forced to watch in silence with the crowd of cowards that are meant to govern this world. They were going to make her their pet!”

This terrifying, two story tall prince bared his teeth, raging at the sky, yet you were still far more afraid of the people he despised.

“The Dragons…”

“There is no way for me to salvage this, is there,” Fukaboshi implored, his breath heavy.

You took too long to lie.

“Let me help you, at least,” he begged, dipping his head toward you. “I cannot see your chains, but I know that they are there. These monsters are using you for their entertainment. I don’t want to leave you here like this.”

Living under the sea might have been nice.

“Thank you,” you choked out. You couldn’t afford to feel this. Even without the eyes on you, you couldn’t afford to cry anymore.

You might never stop.

“I’m sorry, but I have to stay. I left before, and…” Stop it. That crack in your voice was too much. You had to stop.

Bells.

They were distant, but ringing closer while you stared into the eyes of a truly good man that you wanted to send home this instant. He didn’t deserve to rot with these leeches. This prince needed to get as far away from you and your Sylvad smile as possible.

“It has been an honor to meet you, Y/N,” Fukaboshi hummed before the leeches and their snails arrived. “If you ever need a friend in the water, you will find a country’s worth when I tell my people of your kindness and strength.”

“Please, I haven’t done anything to deserve such high praise.”

“I would not survive a challenge such as this, yet you face it with a warrior’s will,” he praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a lie. “I hope that your responsibilities do not keep you from finding true happiness.”

There was no time to answer before your privacy was stripped away again, so the prince joined you in silence. The tide carried your rage for you, violent sprays of white dancing along the cliff.

It would have felt so good to scream, but at least you knew that another kind soul existed in this world.

At least you knew that he’d be free of you soon.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“What the fuck are you doing, mom?”

“Y/N, please, calm down,” your mom tried to soothe while you grabbed her nearest belongings to throw against the wall.

You hadn’t been in this manor since you were little, and hated that you had to step into it now. College was supposed to be your escape, but they’d all just picked up and followed you to the nearest family property. You tried to pretend they didn’t exist, but your last call with Kitty had sent you into a rage.

“She’s only in high school, mom, she’s still a kid! I really thought you cared more for her, but you don’t give a fuck, do you? All you do is pretend.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what the world is really like,” she condescended, her chin lifting just a bit. “You have no idea what I have had to–”

“Save your sob story for someone who gives a fuck, mother,” you snarled in her face.

It probably should have worried you how satisfying her gasp felt when she backed up against the wall. Nowhere to hide from your anger now.

“If you let him marry her off, especially to a fucking Dragon, then you won’t get a single berry from me. So figure it out, mom. Will you get more money from selling your youngest daughter or your oldest daughter, because you can’t do both, you greedy bitch.”

All that satisfying fear on her face melted away, leaving Mommy with her perfect smile.

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll try to convince him to wait, but your uncle just wants what’s best for her, and for our family.”

“I don’t care,” you breathed rage against her mask. “I’ll kill you both before I let one of those monsters touch her. I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!”

A satisfying hint of fear showed in her eyes before you walked away, harsh laughter following you through the halls.

Your laughter.

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

That was a lot.

A giggle left your throat at the dumb thought, and at the sound of all the shells falling from your hair beneath the too hot water.

I’m not strong. Not kind. Not brave.

The sick guilt in your heart made you want to run across the island to find the prince and beg his forgiveness for making him think that you were anything more than a selfish, entitled, rich girl. You weren’t doing anything special.

Just trying to fix your mistake. Your failure.

Trying to run from the cowardice and selfishness that had haunted you since you tried to run the first time.

Then the second time.

And the third time was the charm.

So selfish. Selfish piece of shit. I just left her. Abandoned her.

You tried to take the locket off. It was comfort and torture.

It was proof that true love existed, and it was a reminder of what a disgustingly selfish bitch you were. You had left your sister to the wolves, so you could go have an adventure, and let a bunch of pirates fuck you like a whore.

The warm metal dug into your palm as you gripped it, but you couldn’t take it off.

My last selfish thing.

You pleaded with yourself, bargaining with your own thoughts as you crumpled to the floor in defeat. Sobs built up in your throat, and you didn’t have the strength to fight them.

Never again. I won’t be selfish again.

I’ll protect her.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

“So what were your big, evil plans?”

“What are you asking me,” Crocodile arched a brow at the man. He tugged on Buggy’s hair, his lips curving into a smile before he caught a hint of fear in those crystal eyes.

He didn’t want to see that fear anymore, especially since his brave, little clown kept trying. Buggy had even told him about Red Hair’s shit with Y/N’s father yesterday, because “secrets keep fucking shit up.”

His clown had made him promise not to kill the pretty boy, though. Not for that, at least.

“Sorry, that’s a dumb question. What, uh…” Buggy panicked, remembering how grumpy the man got whenever someone mentioned Baroque Works. “Where did you grow up?”

“You wanna get to know me better, so you start with my evil plans,” Crocodile stopped laughing enough to tease. He had to hold his breath when he saw the clown grinning at him, practically glowing.

“Well, we are bad guys after all.”

“We’re not the true villains of this world,” he rasped, taking a swig of scotch before returning his hand to that lovely, blue hair. “But now our guild gets to hit back.”

“I thought Mihawk was the one with a grudge. ��The Marine Hunter,’ right? I wonder what that’s—“

Buggy turned to ice when that large hand gripped under his chin to tilt his head up, but he melted under Crocodile’s soft gaze.

It still didn’t make any sense.

“What about you, little clown?”

“Me? I just,” Buggy cleared his throat, heat moving up his neck, his face.

This man was overwhelming.

“I wanted to find treasure,” he shrugged, the lightness leaving his voice too fast. “Now I just wanna find her.”

Crocodile’s chest felt tight every time Buggy’s voice dipped like that. Everyone was hurting. He hadn’t kept any of them safe from pain.

“I wanted to build a place, a home, where I could protect everyone I cared about from those true villains,” he recalled, the shame of that failure hitting differently now. “I wanted to keep my people safe, but I got too… All I cared about was my big, evil plan, until I didn’t have anyone left to protect.”

The silence between them was soft, and Crocodile let out a breath when a gloved hand touched his.

“Well, daddy,” Buggy soothed with a laugh, “you’ve got a bunch of freaks to look after now. Do you—“

The snail.

The one for agents. And Mihawk.

Buggy’s hands flew toward Crocodile’s giant desk to answer while they clambered off the couch.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Zala,” Crocodile relaxed, still pulling out his notepad. “What’s the mission status? Is Marianne—“

“Hey boss, it was amazing! We should definitely go on more heist missions after some PTO.”

“Are you saying the mission’s complete? You only arrived in San Faldo yesterday. How did you infiltrate it so quickly?”

Crocodile reached out to gently nudge Buggy’s nervously bouncing body parts behind him so he wouldn’t be distracted while he stared at the snail. The clown mumbled his apology, sending his fidgeting limbs to the corner of the room while his head floated above the desk.

“All I had to do was cry, and scream a little, and they locked me right up,” Marianne reported, cheerfully. “Creepy place to put an asylum, though. Every time I looked out a window I saw people in masks. Yikes.”

“Masks,” Buggy asked quietly.

“It’s that carnival city near Water 7,” Crocodile hushed, returning to his own questions. “Zala, what’s your report?”

“Marianne is right, we made a great team.”

“It was so badass, you should’ve—“

“She was able to use the fingerpaints during art therapy to color trap the staff while I used my spikes as lock picks. It was child’s play.”

“I didn’t wanna mess with the patients though, so I hope you don’t mind that we let them out. After I made all their mean nurses cry and drool first, of course. They really liked that.”

“She’s scary,” Buggy praised, impressed with the terrifying teen.

“Well, what did you find on him?”

“Oh, we didn’t find anything on the doctor,” Marianne drawled, and the sound of frantic snapping came through.

Luckily, Zala’s voice cut in before Crocodile’s veins could pop.

“There wasn’t anything useful on Dr. Vorsan, but we did find something on the CFO.”

“A lot of somethings actually.”

“Marianne, why don’t you go check on them? Make sure they're alright?”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Buggy growled, his whole body connected now as he spoke too close to the snail.

The scarred man reached out to calm him, but felt his own sickness start to fester, coiling in his stomach.

“Well, Miss Sylvad was listed as a former patient, so we looked for her files, and she had two cabinets dedicated to her.”

“You didn’t read them, did you?”

Buggy wasn’t breathing right.

“Of course not, Mr. President,” the agent assured, some fear coming through her voice now. “We brought all of her files with us, but there’s more.”

“Definitely more,” Marianne noted, her voice sounding closer as she went on. “I’m glad we stopped for more food, they look hungry.”

“Explain.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Yes, Mr. Zer—Executive Crocodile, sir,” Marianne stuttered, finally sounding serious, but Zala took the lead.

“Some of the patient files included cam-snails with their initials and dates on the shells. I assume they’re recordings of sessions. Most patients that had recordings only had one or two snails in the group enclosure.”

“How many does she have,” Buggy choked out. He was shaking, even with Crocodile’s warm hand on his back.

“At least thirty, Mr. President,” Marianne said gently.

Gentleness couldn’t ease the chaos inside him.

“ETA,” Crocodile managed, having to pull back his own shaky hand.

“About fourteen days. The soonest would be eleven if Daz can snag us a coated ship before we meet at Sabaody. We picked up the other agents too, so we shouldn’t run into any issues getting through.”

“That’s too late. Buggy, whatever’s in there could–”

“I’m not letting random people watch Y/N’s–watch whatever’s on those snails! It’s bad enough that I’m already listening, and all those people are watching her all the time. It’s not right!”

“Sir, we did steal their encryption snail,” Zala offered. “They must have used it for patient privacy, but the white snail is ours now, and it’s already set up to transmit.”

“Transmit…”

“Yes, Mr. President. If you have a healthy pro-snail, we could securely transmit the recordings to you one at a time. We wouldn’t need to watch them ourselves.”

“No,” Buggy sneered at the larger man, who grimaced before giving orders.

“Wait for our call, agents. We’re gonna talk it out.”

“No, we’re not watching them. It’s too much!”

“Sir, there’s one more thing you should know,” Zala hurried, not pausing before she let it out. “There were instructions on care, and data transfer from old to young snails, as well as backup transmission logs dating back years. Someone else has all of these recordings.”

…

“Sir, are you still there?”

“We’ll call you back.”

~~~

“She keeps getting violated! No fucking PRIVACY! We can’t watch them without her permission, we can’t do it. Please, Crocodile,” Buggy raged through the air, until she started to cry, too far away for him to hold.

Buggy was learning how to go empty like she did, and it chilled Crocodile to the bone. He guided his clown to slump onto that green couch again, wanting to take away the pain that kept making that painted face crumple.

“Let me do it, little clown,” he whispered, kissing his temple.

“No, she wouldn’t want…” Buggy’s voice broke.

Those distant sobs were too much to take.

“Remember that night you helped me carry our girl out of Adam’s room?”

“Yeah,” he frowned, not sure if he should go along with the distraction.

“You said you wanted–”

“I am taking care of her,” the clown snarled, pulling away from the comfort his star couldn’t feel. “We shouldn’t watch.”

Crocodile leaned back, resisting his old ways that had earned him nothing but pain and loneliness.

“Our sweet girl told me something that night, Buggy,” he confessed, watching his clown’s face shift from rage to confusion. “I don’t think she meant to tell me, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“So don’t–”

“I’ll never tell,” he vowed again, and might have smiled at the way Buggy’s head tilted if he didn’t need him to say yes so badly. “But I’m pretty sure I know why Y/N was in that asylum. I’ll watch the recordings, so you don’t have to, and no one else will.”

Crocodile begged now, choking on his old, miserable soul.

“Please, let me help her too, Buggy. Let me help my sweet girl.”

Buggy stared up at that frightening man, and at the hint of tears that threatened to spill down that scarred face.

He really does love her.

Now Buggy reached for the comfort that his star couldn't feel. He clung to that warmth, squeezing tighter when those hums of surprise and satisfaction vibrated through that massive body.

“Little clown…”

“Protect her,” Buggy gave in, exhaustion nearly stealing his voice. She was still sobbing in his head, still losing her fight to keep her pain inside.

“Our girl needs you. She needs her Daddy.”

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

The ex-Warlord didn’t want to do it in here. He’d helped Y/N fall apart right over there, so beautiful in the dress Mihawk had picked out. Always so beautiful.

But it would take too long to set up another room, and he couldn’t make her wait over his own selfish wish to keep that memory untouched. Even if she never said it back, never felt it, she had opened him up. Crocodile had told his sweet girl that he loved her in this fancy conference room.

Now he’d locked himself inside that room with two snails, and a bottle of scotch, about to ruin that memory.

He couldn’t think about it while he waited. Just let the thick smoke of his cigar fill his mouth, the feel of it unable to calm him while he doodled a little bananawani in the corner of his notepad.

He never got to show her…

“Zala?”

“Yes sir, are–”

“I’m ready. Send the first transmission.”

“Right away, sir. I believe this is the oldest recording. We’ll try to go in order, but it’s a little difficult keeping them all lined up.”

“Just send it.”

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

Fifteen. She said she was fifteen when he died, so this can’t be too long after that.

The image was cleaner than it should be. All the care and transfer to young snails must have kept the recording from degrading, even after all these years.

Y/N’s young face was so clear on the projector screen, so clear that he almost walked to it, until the snail backed away from just her face, showing her at a table, slumped against the wall. Her eyes were almost crossed, staring into nothing.

Then a voice came.

‘Good morning, Y/N, it’s Dr. Vorsan. Could you repeat your name for me?’

Sick laughter poured from the child’s lips, and Crocodile felt his long-neglected heart breaking more with every second it went on.

‘I don’t need to repeat it. You know it. You all know it.’

‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N. We want you to get well.’

‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!! You think you can– FUCK YOU, don’t fucking touch me! DONTFUCKINGTOUCHMMMN—‘

Nurses had swarmed her, blocking his view, but not before he noticed the restraints at her wrists. Her skin looked raw, like she’d tried to tear herself free with her nails, tried to tear through her own flesh.

Crocodile didn’t notice the long lines his hook had already torn into the conference table.

He could see her again, and he memorized every face around her, every hand that held her trapped. One nurse even covered her lips until she bit them, only to let out another vile laugh before she cried.

‘No, please, don’t. Don’t touch me!’

‘It’s okay, Y/N. You’re not well. Just breathe, we’ll help you through this.’

The doctor’s offscreen voice didn’t stop her from snarling and pleading while another nurse stuck her with a needle.

Y/N’s eyes started to flutter, her rage slowing until she was practically drooling, barely able to hold herself up in the wheelchair they dumped her in.

‘daddy, please…’

She was so quiet.

‘why’d you leave me here, daddy?’

~~~

Crocodile stared into nothing when the recording faded out, his ears ringing with a rage that could have drained the whole island of life.

He couldn’t think. Almost charged through the door to find a fucking boat. Almost destroyed everything in sight.

My girl. My sweet girl.

The scarred man chugged half of the scotch since he knew he’d break the bottle soon, before making the call.

“Hello sir, did the–”

“Send the next one.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The above scene is from Crocodile’s POV as he watched a recording of the reader. The recording showed the reader at the age of fifteen, not long after her father passed.

She was restrained at a table, and Dr. Vorsan’s voice came from off screen. He told her that they were trying to help her get well. The reader reacted with unsettling laughter, cursing, and death threats.

Nurses were shown holding her down while she resisted, and ultimately gave her a shot that made her slump into a wheelchair. She called for her dad softly, asking why he had left her there.

Crocodile struggled with fury at not being able to help her. He drank, and called Zala to transmit the next recording.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N, what happened? Did he hurt you?”

Kat growled her rage, her fingers digging into your skin while she struggled to pull you onto her lap.

“N-no, he didn’t,” you coughed, then sobbed, then tried again. “He’s a good p-person.”

“Well, if good people make you cry like this, I’m glad we don’t get a lot of them around here.”

Laughs and sobs.

And shame.

So fucking selfish. Making her take care of me again. Always about me. Fucking entitled brat, selfish bitch, weak—

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” you begged. Your pathetic sniveling came out muffled as you wrapped your arms around your head, curling in on yourself.

“Sis, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. Why do you keep apologizing?”

Her fingers stroked along the side of your face, the parts that weren’t hidden by your shaking arms. Every memory of your failures as a sister filled your throat, threatening to spill and burn the world like lava.

“I left you.”

Kat blinked slowly. Then frowned that perfect frown before she shook you, shocking your sobs away for a moment.

“Don’t fucking do this! I’m a full ass adult, sis. I told you I didn’t want to run off with your clown, remember? Hey?”

Her words should have found their way inside, but you had already slipped out of yourself, your body limp, and useless beside her.

Your sister sighed, returning to gentle touches that didn’t feel real.

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” she whispered, somehow reaching that floating part of you as though she knew where your mind had flown. “And if you only came back for that, then I need you to get the fuck out.”

A soft whine hit your throat, your body moving slowly.

“You really want to be with those pirates,” Kat asked, voice soft and low while she studied your heavy eyes. “I don’t want you here if it’s going to tear you up like this. Maybe we can… I’m not watched like you are. Do you want me to try to call them? If I tell them you want to go back… I don’t know what they could do, but we can try.”

A million years were held inside you now. A million years to make the right choice.

“I’m sorry, Kat, I didn’t want to tell you... You were right. I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again. I shouldn’t have left. I should have listened to you.”

The best lies were true, but when truth was lost, you had to use what remained.

You used the agonizing grief of losing your love to sell your tears, and you used every shred of hate you held for that traitor to make yourself believe your own rage.

“Did they hurt you?”

You took too long, letting silence lie for you.

“I’m going to kill those fuckers. I bet we could hire someone to do it. Let me talk to Uncle—“

“Please don’t, Kat! I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want to forget it, all of it.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.

“Are you okay,” she asked after staring at you for long enough that you were afraid you'd failed again. Exhaustion fell on you, but you gave a weak smile at her question.

Another Sylvad specialty.

“I’m trying.”

You had missed those narrowed eyes so very much.

“Really, I want to be here, Kitty Kat,” you told the truth, laughing at the instinctual eye roll she gave at the old nickname. “I’m just having a rough time right now.”

“Have you ever not had a rough time? It feels like I’m related to a tragedy sometimes.”

Kat looked so pleased with herself when your jaw dropped, wiggling away from you when your shaky fingers started to poke at her ribs.

“Real nice, sis. Thanks!”

“I am extremely nice,” she deadpanned while she climbed to her feet. “There's a box of cookies in my suite if you want some. I ate like four of them before I came in here, so they should be—“

“Gimme!”

“Just don’t eat all of them,” she scolded, laughing as she walked away.

“I would never!”

Your mock outrage made her laugh harder, and then she was gone. That lie of a smile fell from your lips while you stared at the empty space she had just left.

Kat wasn’t there. She doesn’t know. She can’t.

Slipping away… but it was a different kind of lost. No more limp and useless limbs. No more tears unless you needed them to lie for you. You knew what you had to do.

i can pretend for you, kitty kat.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

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

Author's Note: I've still been disappearing from the world. I've received some very recent help that might make things a bit easier IRL, so I hope I can talk to humans again soon. For now, I'm just so very very grateful for all of you. This story is helping me through some tough shit, and it wouldn't exist without all of the support, encouragement, and inspiration that y'all give me. I know this one was heavy. I hope that if it hit you hard, you know that you are not alone. Sometimes just seeing pain that looks like ours is a relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. I hope that my words can be that for you, and that we can all get through the tough times with just a little less loneliness. 💜

Fic Updates & Extras: I've included a map below with OP Canon and Numbers Game locations in case y'all would like to see where everybody's at and where the reader's memories occurred. I only included relevant locations and this is definitely not to scale. This map began as my need to ensure that the travel time between Karai Bari, Oak Roots Estate, and then Alabasta and the asylum made sense within the One Piece world. (Although that world doesn't make sense, lol. I added up just the travel time of the Straw Hats journey between islands, and with no stops it would take approx. 22.5 days to get from Alabasta to Egghead 😅) I apologize that I don't have the map or the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!

Sources: The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼 I'm basing the Numbers Game geography mainly off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is so gorgeous and helpful! 😍 I also referenced This Map from the One Piece Wiki, and This Map from ClayStage.com. I made this map using miro.com.

Numbers Game Map ~ Chapter 34

Chapter 35

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

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