#spoilers in the tags too 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

[blinksalot]

drs2p2 spoilers under the cut

jay after getting kicked out of the wolf clan and losing his job at the administration

[miharuhebinata]

you guys really weren't kidding about how fucking good lake mungo is

[stuckinmymind22]

On The Run (part one)

🚨🚨🚨MARINEFORD AND FISHMAN ISLAND SPOILERS🚨🚨🚨

shanks x afab! reader (she/her)

tags: lovers (intimate) to lovers (romantic)

tw: swearing (dialogue and narratively), drinking, violence (you shoot people and they shoot back), you nearly kill a person (intentionally), injury, graphic descriptions of pain, ptsd, you’ve killed people, previous kidnapping, celestial dragons and all of that, lmk if i missed anything

wc: 10.5k

a/n: this idea had me in a chokehold this past month, there's gonna be at least a part 2 (prob 3 too) maybe more little things idk, there's also a prequel in the works that is literally just smut so stand by for that

summary:

You were a barmaid on a small island in the new world with a big secret lying dormant in your past. Your island had been under the protection of Whitebeard, and after his recent death it was only a matter of time before pirates showed up, but no one expected it to be another yonko.

The bar you worked at was a popular spot for the locals and became one of the primary hang out spots for the pirates while they were in town (they couldn't turn down free booze).

The captain, Shanks, ever the charmer, had set his sight on you and quickly you found yourself in his bed (not that you minded). You knew what it was, a temporary relationship to pass the time, and that was fine with you. You weren’t stupid enough to try and get involved with a Yonko (that would be a mess and just end badly for you).

Everything was going smoothly, until the marines showed up. But they weren’t after the Emperor, they were there for you.

It was around midday when a handful of Red Hair Pirates wandered into the bar you worked at. They had been following the same routine for roughly the past week, as they had stayed on the island to get their ship repaired after a storm. In a matter of hours, the crew were going to be setting sail, an inevitable conclusion to their stay. You had grown rather fond of the crew over their time there, especially to their captain, Red-Haired Shanks, who you had a special relationship with (one that often had involved a bed). 

A part of you was sad to see you go, although you always had known they would leave, but you were grateful that they had stopped by once again so you could say your goodbyes to some of your favorite members of the crew. The night before, you had spent saying ‘goodbye’ to their captain over many hours, but it seemed that hadn’t been enough for the man.

“You’re looking extra beautiful today,” the captain greeted you with a wink. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the heat that rushed to your cheeks. “Let me guess, the usual?” You asked with a smile. "You know it, Doll," he said as he and his crew took their seats nearby.

Although there were fewer members than there historically had been, there were enough that you could not possibly carry all the pints over by yourself. You called over your coworkers from the other side of the bar for their help, while they did come over and help, they were very skittish around you. You thought that it was odd behavior, but you didn't push the matter; they’d been under a lot of stress lately, so you attributed it to that. They’d recently returned from another island where they had gone to get specialized treatment for their child’s illness, which put a lot of stress on their finances.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” You questioned the group of pirates as you passed out the drinks. “Getting the ship ready,” Yasopp spoke up. “I see,” you hummed, “Tell them goodbye for me then.”

“You’re not gonna come see us off?” Shanks asked, feigning hurt. You rolled your eyes at the theatrics but grinned regardless. “Unless you’re gonna wait for me to get off, then I can’t.” You realized the accidental innuendo after you said it. “I could get you off right now if you want,” Shanks whispered huskily into your ear. The offer was tempting but would make the clean cut you were going for more difficult. In response, you slapped his arm but laughed, which made the man beam with pride.

You conversed with the group of pirates for a while before a large group came in, clearly celebrating. Your coworker was nowhere to be seen, so you knew you had to get back to work. “It was nice talking to you boys, but duty calls,” you said apologetically, “Please come say goodbye before you leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Shanks said with that damn charming smile. “Don’t worry ‘bout us, go do what you gotta do,” Benn Beckman, the first mate of the Red Hairs, spoke up. You nodded and went to the other group to get their orders before returning to the bar to get their drinks.

Suddenly, something felt off with the air, putting you on edge. With practiced precision, you maintained your composure as you discreetly scanned your surroundings, trying to find the cause of your unease. White uniforms caught your eye, and you faltered, nearly overfilling the tankard you were pouring. This wasn’t going to end well.

There looked to only be a dozen or so marines — nowhere near enough to take Shanks and his crew. If there had been many more soldiers, that would’ve been news on the island, and you would’ve heard about it at that point. The navy was still licking its wounds from the war, surely, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to go after another yonko so soon… right? They could’ve gotten cocky after the death of Whitebeard and were trying to ride that wave to take out the rest of the yonkos, but that seemed far-fetched. 

No. There was no way in hell the Marines were here for him, you realized. Shit, they probably didn’t even know he was here. You looked at the man out of the corner of your eye, and he was as laid back as ever, head thrown back as he laughed at something you didn’t hear. The relief didn’t last for long, though, as you quickly realized that the only other person on this island that they could possibly be after was… you.

Shanks had chosen that exact moment to walk up to the bar, greeting you with his charming smile. You were only halfway paying attention to him as you stood on guard. Upon realizing that you were not listening to him, Shanks’ words teetered out, replaced by a curious look. 

You were hoping that the unit had stumbled upon your little island on accident and were just going to restock and peacefully head out fast. That dream had been promptly crushed when you saw your coworker walk up to them. You pieced it together, and your coworker’s suspicious behavior around you started to make sense. You had, mistakenly, attributed the odd behavior to stress. They had a chronically ill child, which was a cause of significant emotional and financial strain for them. You watched the entire interaction, how they had tried to be discreet about it, but your fears were confirmed when you were pointed out. The person in charge looked your way and nodded. Shit, he’s a vice admiral

“Fuck,” you spoke your thoughts. Shanks raised an eyebrow, but you didn't look his way, so he followed your gaze and saw what the issue was. He saw the Marines and they saw him. If you weren’t busy trying to find a way out of the situation, you would’ve been really amused by the unit’s reaction to coming face to face with a yonko in the wild.

Shanks, ever the lil shit, waved at the group with a wiggle of his fingers. “Don’t draw their attention over here, dumbass,” you scolded him as you whipped him with a nearby towel. “What? I know him,” the red-haired man laughed. When that explanation hadn’t pacified you, he tried again, “You can relax, they aren’t gonna do anything—“ maybe not to you, you thought internally “—and if they do, we’ll get rid of them, it’ll be easy.” To him it was problem solved, so he was confused when you growled out “The fuck you will. You sit still and look pretty. Don’t get involved.”

The man was unsure what had prompted such a severe reaction from you, but he raised his hand in surrender. “Promise me,” you begged with a genuine fear you hadn’t been able to hide. His eyes softened. He felt that he had owed you at least some level of trust, so he agreed. If things were to go wrong, it wouldn’t be difficult to step in, but he’ll let it be for the time being.

The bar was unusually packed for the time of day — that wasn’t good. They all needed to leave. 

If they had been there for you, as it seemed, you knew damn well that you wouldn’t be going down without a fight. However, the possibility of people getting caught in the crossfire was an issue for you. Never mind the fact that it had been instilled into you early on to minimize civilian casualties, you didn’t want to see these people getting hurt. When you had arrived at the town, years earlier, with no funds and very little to your name, the community had come together to help you. They had cared about you in a way you had forgotten people could. You would always be indebted to them. You had to ensure their safety at all costs.

With the Marines nearly at your door, time was running out. The building needed to be evacuated immediately. You hated doing it, but you had no other choice. “Leave. Now.” Your voice echoed in through the room, a powerful energy radiating off of you and your words — Conqueror’s Haki. It had been years since you had used it last, and it had been a little shaky as a result. But it worked. Right away, people had started to file out of the bar; you even had a Marine or two spinning on their heels at your command.

Confusion and shock followed in wake of your order. Wide-eyed patrons walked out, most of them clueless as to what was happening. Those who understood what you had done were taken aback. Conqueror’s Haki was rare enough on its own, but it was damn near unheard of for a random civilian to possess the skill. 

There was clearly something Shanks had been missing about your story, no way were you just some barmaid on a sleepy island. The question of who you really were was front and center on the captain’s mind as he watched you on the sidelines. He was intrigued to say the least. 

The Marines had gotten stuck navigating through the exiting crowd; you took the opportunity to examine them while they were still hung up. The unit was led by a man smoking not one, but two cigars, clad in an open bomber jacket and a Marine coat draped over his shoulders. His coat denoted his position as a vice admiral, which concerned you. While it wasn’t yet confirmed that they were there for you, you weren’t stupid; you knew. To the extent of your knowledge, the World Government had never sent such a high-ranking officer after you — even in the height of their search efforts. 

Still hoping for the best, you feigned ignorance to the situation. Pretending to be drying a tankard, you gave the approaching soldiers an award-winning smile, “Fancy a drink, boys?”

The senior official ignored you entirely. Instead, he opted to address the emperor in the room, greeting him with a curt nod, “Red Hair.” That annoyed you, but you had to keep your cool.

“Smoker,” Shanks said with a laid-back smile, like he was greeting an old friend, not a high-ranking military official. The white-haired man pursed his lips in annoyance, bored he continued, “We aren’t here for you. Leave before we have to be.” While it was a clear threat, the man had seemed reluctant to give it, probably fully aware that his men and him were no match for the pirates.

“Nah. I’m good here,” Shanks said as he sat down at the bar stool as if to prove a point. His response roused some laughs from his crew. The vice admiral, Smoker, was obviously irritated by the response but didn’t push the matter any further. For the first time, the man set his sights towards you, addressing you by your birth name. You cringed when he called out your name in full (title and all); it had been years since you had gone by it. You had grown to resent the name. It reminded you of all that you had lost: your family, your friends, your freedom. 

It had taken him a moment, but Shanks’ eyes widened when he finally placed the name. That was you? Your sudden disappearance many, many years ago had sparked a multinational search. Being the daughter of a powerful king, your apparent kidnapping had been a massive story at the time. If he could recall, the search for you had lasted for months, and, right when it had seemed like all hope was lost, you were spotted. You had reappeared suddenly to “commit acts of terrorism” then had dropped off the map entirely. Your poster had gone from “missing” to “wanted” overnight, but you were never seen again.

Under normal circumstances, this would be the part where you would cut your losses and run, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. You had realized that the unit you were dealing with was a part of the G5 — a branch that was notorious even within the Marines for their recklessness and cruelty — there was little chance that they wouldn’t leave some level of collateral damage. If you were to run, they would follow you with reckless abandonment.

Although you had gotten people out of the building, that didn’t mean that they had left the vicinity. A crowd was gathered right outside, some were trying to stealthily watch the encounter with varying degrees of success — not that you could blame them, this was undoubtedly the most exciting thing to happen in this village in years (the Red-Haired Pirates included). 

You needed to find a way to settle this then and there. There was also no telling what could happen if the pirates got involved. Just because they had connected with the community during their stay didn’t mean that they would be mindful of their surroundings (especially when they could just up and leave at any time). You prayed that the handsome, one-armed man would stay true to his word.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do, but luckily you had always been quick on your feet. You had to stall for time while you tried to find the best way out of this.

“Are we really going to do this?” You asked. “You could always pretend you didn’t see me. I’m not going to cause trouble for the government ever again. Plus it’s been, what? Thirteen years?” Admittedly it had been a Hail Mary, but you didn’t want to fight and it would be a disservice to yourself not to try. “I’m a whole new person now,” you said, gesturing to your body, which had changed considerably from when you were taken as a teen.

“Time doesn’t absolve you from your crimes,” the marine, Smoker, said level headedly.

“But what crime did I really commit?” You questioned him. In the past you had managed to talk yourself out of being captured; however, most of those times you still had the youth of a child and the pity that came with it. “Outside of destruction of property, it was all done in self-defense. Actually, even the destruction of property thing was too.”

“You know that it is bigger than that,” Smoker countered, not batting an eye. His words made you realize he had more pieces to the story than what had been made public. That stoked a fire within you — his complacency in the matter made what you had to do easier.

“You got me there,” you admitted, face and facade dropping. You were tired. Tired of running. Tired of having to look behind your back at every step. But what choice did you have? Fighting your way out was the only thing you could do at that point. “Hey Yasopp, can I borrow your gun please?” You’d seen the pistol on his hip when he’d walked in

The only snag in your plan was the fickle nature of pirates. You had your part down, but if they didn’t help, you were fucked. Well, not fucked, but you would have to flee, endangering the lives of the nice people who welcomed you onto this island and cared about you, which you wanted to avoid at all costs.

The sniper was surprised by the request, to say the least. Did you even know how to use a gun? Unsure of what he should do, Yasopp looked to his captain with an unspoken question. Shanks had been a little taken aback at the request too; this was a very different side to you than the one he had been familiar with. But he was curious. The emperor signaled the go-ahead to Yasopp, who immediately tossed the weapon your way.

While the pirates communicated, the woman next to Smoker spoke up in an attempt to appeal to your sense of better reason: “You don’t have to do this.” You wished that she was right.

“Yes, I do,” you said firmly. The universe had incredible timing as that was the moment you caught the revolver. “I’m not letting you take me back. And I’m not letting you kill me,” your words came out desperate and definitive.

After you spoke, you raised the pistol, but held it with such unfamiliarity — as if that was the first time in your life you’d held one, which was odd because you had explicitly asked for a gun. Smoker ordered the troops to take aim at your movement. For someone who had the barrel of a dozen rifles pointed at you, you were remarkably calm. Despite the fearful expression that painted your face, your body was relaxed.

You fired the first shot. It missed. By a long shot.

Shanks remained confused by your actions. He’d been watching you closely and had noticed that something was off. The question was what. One would expect you to be embarrassed or something by that performance, but the corners of your mouth were upturned. Oh, you had meant to do that. You had something planned. However, wasting a round when you only had six shots and twelve targets seemed like a shit strategy. What exactly were you playing at?

It worked. Your plan had worked.

The shot had been so bad that the order to retaliate didn't even come like it should have. Multiple soldiers had faltered in their aim at you. After all, you were just a weak barmaid on a sleepy island. What damage could you really do? Underestimating you was their mistake, though. When they’d lowered their guard, you pounced. You moved before they could notice their mistake, targeting the soldiers that held firm while the others would be ever so slightly delayed in their reaction.

You emptied the revolver in quick succession, aiming for the shoulder of the arm on the trigger to disarm and incapacitate. The gun was more powerful than you had expected; one bullet aligned so perfectly that it had been able to take down two marines in one shot, shooting straight through both of them. After hitting five soldiers, the pistol had stopped firing. That wasn’t right.

Dodging a barrage of bullets, you checked the gun to find all of the chambers empty. Well, that was inconvenient, you sighed and tossed the pistol back to its owner. You needed a new weapon. In the process of hopping the counter to ‘borrow’ a rifle, a sharp pain erupted in your side. Fuck. But no injury was going to have you back down — they’d have to kill you for that — so you kept fighting.

The rifle had been helpful. It didn’t take long for there to be only one man left standing. The vice admiral. This time, however, you aimed for the heart. The man knew what had happened to you and still had decided you were the one in the wrong; the world would probably be better off without him. Not considering the consequences of shooting a high-ranking official, you fired the shot.

The man never dropped — it didn't even look like he was hit. You were certain you had aimed right at him. You tried shooting him again and the same thing happened. That time, you saw his body turn into... smoke? It was clear to Shanks that you didn't know about the vice admiral's devil fruit. He had sat back and watched for long enough. You had proven that you could do more than hold your own, but it was time to intervene.

“I think it might be time for you to cut your losses and go, Smoker. Don’t ya think?” Shanks said, making eye contact with the man. It hadn’t been a suggestion; it had been an order. Smoker ticked his jaw, but he knew a losing battle when he saw one. His men were injured, and so was Tashigi — none of the wounds were yet critical, but they required medical attention. He ordered a full retreat.

“You put on quite the show, Doll,” Shanks said, his charming personality making a full return. He couldn’t deny that he’d found the whole thing to be attractive and quite entertaining to watch. He’d never guessed you had it in you — it had made him realize that he didn’t know much about you.

A noncommittal grunt was the only indicator that you had heard the man at all. But his voice had brought you back down from fight mode, which allowed the anger to kick in. You were pissed. You were so fucking angry, unshed tears clogged your waterline as you vigorously wiped them away. You knew that you’d just lost everything. 

Somewhere through the haze you heard the voice of Yasopp and, without thinking, you talked over it, "Do you always keep a chamber empty? You play reverse Russian roulette often?" Despite it being a joke, there was a bite to your words that the group had never heard before, regardless of that the quip garnered a hearty laugh. You started to get an explanation that likely boiled down to being drunk, but you weren't listening, you were spiraling.

Everything that you had built there was gone. You couldn't stay (you had a garden dammit). The government knew where you were and you were no longer safe — you could not go back at any cost, you could never let them catch you.

Staring aimlessly out the wide open door you recognized a familiar face, your coworker’s, and you saw red. Your feet carried you outside before you could second guess your actions, some marine's rifle still in your hand. Someone called out your name, but you spared them no mind. Steps followed behind you, who they belonged to didn't matter. You could only focus on the pounding in your ears and the anger in your heart.

As you approached your now ex-coworker, you raised the barrel, leveling it between their eyes. Your aim held steady as they collapsed on the ground in terror. You loaded the gun, ignoring the silent plea in their eyes. A crowd was still gathered in the street, watching your movements in disbelief.

A few steps behind you stood Shanks. He observed your actions, curious as to what you would do. He wasn't there to stop you from pulling the trigger; he would have already done it if it were him. Guns weren't for threats, but were you really going to shoot someone dead in the middle of the street? The only kill shot you had gone for was Smoker, who was a stranger trying to arrest you; this, however, was someone you had known. It was obvious that you had sent people out to minimize casualties, yet now you had a rifle to the head of a civilian.

Finger on the trigger, ready to pull it, but you hesitated. For the first time in a while, your father's voice echoed in your head. While a man of power, he had always stressed the importance of mercy, saying that you needed to really be sure of what you were doing when taking a life while yours was not at stake.

When you thought about it, you were more sad than anything. Just when you had started to really lay down some roots, it had been torn up entirely. You wanted to hate the person who had turned you in, but you knew why they did it. Your head had appeared to be easy money, and they were a desperate parent trying to help their child. The anger didn't subside, but you knew what you had to do.

“I should kill you. I want to kill you,” you seethed, “but I won’t.” Taking your finger off the trigger, you lowered the barrel. You were shaking in fury as you towered above them bestowing mercy. “Because I don’t like traumatizing kids. I’m not gonna make yours watch me blow your brains out. For your sake I hope this is the last time we see each other because next time I probably won’t be as forgiving. Now go comfort your child. They’re crying. Four buildings down across the street in that alley.”

When they made no move to get up, undoubtedly frozen in fear, you gently kicked their leg. “Go before I change my mind.” That had been all that it took; they scurried away in the direction you pointed out. 

You were still fuming, but you would have time to be angry later; you needed to disappear. You had no idea where you would go. The island was far too small for you to hide on — you had to leave and soon.

A faint plan was developing in your mind. Being on the run required cash, much more than you had on hand. The bar was empty — bar the pirates — and you knew the code to the safe, which made it your best bet. You spun on your heel and headed back the way you had come.

The crew's attention had snapped to the door when you entered, but you paid them no mind, too focused on your objective. Their captain trailed behind you, sending them back to the ship with just a glance. The Red Haired Pirates had been together for so long that they had practically mastered the art of wordless communication; they all knew what that look had meant. The men were quick to exit, leaving in silence, which was surprising given how rowdy they liked to be.

Shanks, however, lingered. He took back his seat and watched you. He didn't speak while you moved around — no words of comfort, no judgment; he was just... there. You had waited for any sort of reaction to come from the man, constantly eyeing him out of the corner of your eye, but there never was one.

Halfway through clearing the place out, the pain had finally made its reappearance. You didn't have time to deal with the injury, so you powered through it, ignoring its existence. You stuffed your pockets full of money and shoved some down your shirt with urgency, getting more berries than you had originally calculated. But there was no telling when that stroke of luck would end. 

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

Shanks had been following you the entire walk to your home. His presence stood out, so it had been obvious who it was. Initially, you had wanted to tell him to fuck off, but you had thought the better of it. Even if it bothered you, his presence was more beneficial than harmful — he was a deterrent for the marines, and you weren't sure of the extent of your injuries, but you trusted that if you passed out or something, he would help you.

Standing outside the door, you took a moment to grieve — you had been there for five years and would never see it again. It was the first place that had felt safe, that had felt like home, since before you had been taken, and you were losing it all.

When you entered, you hadn't bothered to shut the door behind you, and Shanks took it as an open invitation. He followed you inside and looked around, as if he hadn't been there before. 

You pulled out and opened a small trunk that you hadn't used in years — since you had arrived on that island. Even though you had been free for over a decade and settled for nearly half of that time, you didn't have a lot of things to your name. While you packed your belongings away, you brainstormed how you would get the hell off of the island.

There had never been a high-ranking ranking official to come after you. The government seemed to finally be putting resources into tracking you down, which must be because of the change in power, and so any commercial means were off the table. It would be hard to get out, unless…

You looked over at Shanks and held an internal debate. Initially, you had wanted to cut all ties with him, to make things easier, but you weren't sure if you had much of a choice anymore. He'd felt your eyes on him and turned around to look at you — there was nothing left to lose.

"Take me with you," you said, swallowing your pride, "Just to the next island, that is all  I need." The longer he responded, the more worried you became. The smile that formed on his face calmed your fears. "That's why I'm here, Darlin," he truly had intended to anyways, and if you declined, he had been ready to find a way to talk you into it.

He had motives outside of altruism of course, he was a pirate after all. Curiosity definitely had been a big one, he had a lot of questions. You were also a competent fighter. It would be mutually beneficial if he could convince you to stay with his crew (he would get your skills, you get guaranteed protection from the government). Another reason he refused to admit was that he just liked you, in ways that were unfamiliar to him. What he could admit, however, was that he would miss the time you had spent alone together, that had always been something he'd enjoyed.

He saw it while he was lost in thought. A large red patch on your side. It looked like you hadn’t dodged every bullet that had come your way. Your shirt was dark and disguised it well, but the stain was still there. You had done a good job at hiding it too; you hadn’t limped or shown any outward signs of pain. What the hell have you gone through? Bullets hurt, that he could attest to.

Shanks had walked over to you and lifted up the hem of your shirt in a way he had many times before to assess the damage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You questioned, slapping his hand away. Instead of answering, he did it again, checking your back, and you held your breath in fear.

There was no exit wound, but he could not remember if that was good or bad; all he knew was that you were still bleeding. “Why didn’t you say anything?” he said, putting pressure on the wound.

“Didn’t know I had to, and I’ve been through worse,” you answered, continuing your task. He believed you. He thought back to your nights together and had recalled the feeling of scars littering your body (the lighting had always been awful, and details were all fuzzy).

“How long have you been bleeding?” He asked, trying to determine how much blood you had lost. “Since I got shot, I think,” you responded. “Now let me finish packing.” Normally, he would have laughed at your quip, but for some reason this time it wasn’t that funny. His hand had been painted with scarlet, and he scolded himself for not noticing earlier. Over the years, he had seen worse injuries, but he needed to get you to Hongo as soon as possible. “We gotta go, you need a doctor,” he said. When you attempted to pull back from him, he told you to stay still.

“You are not my captain. I am not gonna take orders from you. Let me go,” you looked him dead in the eyes as you spoke and he returned your gaze. “You might wanna start listening to me if you don’t want to bleed out,” Shanks was no longer playing around, he sounded serious in a way you had never heard from him before. Your will had faltered a little bit before it came back strong, “I’m gonna finish, then we can go.”

"Like hell you are," deep down he knew that you weren't going to cooperate if this didn't get done. "I'll do it," in his mind it had been that or picking you up and taking you kicking and screaming, which he would really prefer not doing. “Not with that bloody hand you’re not,” you said, looking at the red spilling between his fingers. “It’s your blood,” he was getting tired. “It’s still blood,” you argued. Shanks wiped your blood off on his shirt, “There, now what do you need?” Thankfully, your hands replaced his, keeping your bleeding under control as you pointed out the few items that had yet to be packed. 

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

After Shanks had uncovered the bullet wound in your side, you had stopped trying to suppress or hide the impact the injury was having on you. On your way to his ship, you had needed to sling an arm around his neck to keep yourself upright (getting more of your blood on him in the process) while you tried to control the bleeding with your other hand. The closer you had gotten to the dock, the more obvious it had become that you had lost a lot of blood. Your movements had started to slow down, and Shanks knew that you needed to hurry and get medical attention.

Yasopp had been the first to spot you and the captain approaching. Then he saw the crimson all over the man's white shirt. "Oi, Hongo, c'mere," the sharpshooter shouted back to the doctor, sounding more amused than concerned, "Captain's gonna need you soon."

Shanks glared up at the man, not amused. Only then had Yasopp noticed that you were using the tall man as a crutch and clutching your abdomen. It was your blood. You had been bleeding profusely. "Oh shit," he said before shouting back to the doctor to hurry. Yasopp jumped down onto the dock to help bring you on board. There was only a rope that provided a way up; there had been no need for anything more than that as the captain had been the only one still on the island, and he had expressed his desire to leave quickly. 

The gunman rushed to greet the two of you and lend a hand. You refused to let anyone else see you in such an openly vulnerable state, so you brushed past him, refusing his help, and started to climb the rope by yourself. Some of your blood had transferred to the fibers of the rope as you climbed. Yasopp was taken aback by your sudden increase in strength, and while he was confused, Shanks shoved the trunk of your belongings that he'd been carrying into his arms. The one-armed man followed closely behind you.

It was a slow process for you, scaling the rope with one arm when you were so out of practice. Your struggle was clear, but you wouldn't let a little bit of blood loss stop you, so you powered through it, eventually reaching the top.

Hongo arrived out on deck just in time to witness you climb over the railing on your own. He had recognized you from the bar (and knew your relationship to the captain), but why were you onboard a pirate ship? The doctor, somehow, had yet to hear about the events that transpired less than an hour ago. As far as he was concerned, you were just an ordinary civilian, so why'd the hell had the captain brought you aboard the Red Force hurt and bleeding? Hold on, hurt and bleeding?

Shanks had followed quickly behind you. He scanned the crowd, looking for the doctor before his feet were planted on deck. When he found him, he made eye contact. "Hongo," he said with a faint nod and a glance your way. It was an order: to take care of you.

Immediately, Hongo rushed to your side to aid you, calling out for a stretcher upon seeing your condition. You, however, brushed him off, "I can walk. Where am I going?" You questioned, looking around. He had opened his mouth to insist otherwise when the captain gave him a look that boiled down to 'just do as the lady says'. Warily, Hongo led the way to the infirmary with a few men on standby, not entirely confident that you wouldn't collapse along the way. 

You were much more conscious than you should've been, that was the first thing about you that gave the doctor pause. Based on the size of the stain on your shirt and the combined red on both you and Shanks, you had lost a lot of blood — almost too much blood to be conscious, but there you were, walking. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell you had been through to be capable of such a feat. Perhaps you were one of those rare people who didn't feel pain, he contemplated, but the way you had been gritting your teeth proved that was not the case. One thing had become clear to him at that point: you were not an ordinary civilian. 

Along the way, you rattled off all of the information that he would need to know, unprompted: a gunshot wound to the abdomen (that much he could tell), you weren't sure if there was an exit wound, it happened around thirty minutes ago, even giving him your blood type. 

The doctor knew you would need a transfusion. Blood transfusions weren’t a common occurrence on the Red Force; the crew rarely needed them, so only a small amount was kept on hand as a just-in-case. When the bleeding had been too much, there were enough people to get on-the-spot donations. He knew there wasn’t enough of your blood type on hand, so the doctor sent someone back to collect two or three people for donations.

Upon your arrival at the infirmary, you requested that as few people as possible were in the room. It was an odd request, but he obliged. He instructed an assistant to go draw blood in another room. The other one got you hooked up to a transfusion while Hongo got started on the gunshot wound. Initially, you had been very adamant about keeping your shirt on under the bright lighting, even if it would hinder any aid, only lifting it to the point of injury. You had also refused to let him check for an exit wound, but in a way that could be excused with modesty and would not have raised an eyebrow had he not already been suspicious about you.

Once only the two of you had remained in the room, you stripped yourself of your shirt, telling the doctor that he could do whatever he needed to. Sat there on the exam table, shirt in hand, you kicked your feet like a child, in a vain attempt to redirect your nerves. Hopefully, he doesn't see it, you thought. In such bright light, the scar on your back was harder to hide. 

With full access to the area of the gunshot, Hongo checked for an exit wound, finding that there was none. After an assessment, he had decided that the best course of action would be to remove the bullet, and he told you as much. “Get it over with, please," you said, bunching up the fabric of your shirt to stuff into your mouth. "We have pain killers, do you want-“ you cut off the doctor's offer once again, asking him to get it over with. The man hesitated but proceeded anyway. He gathered the necessary tools and waited for your signal. After stuffing your balled-up shirt in your mouth, you gave him a nod.

You were not looking forward to the experience, but the faster you could get it over with, the faster you could cover up. A sharp, searing pain exploded in your abdomen as Hongo started his search for the bullet. No matter how hard you had bit down on your shirt, it hadn't been enough to muffle your screams, which, unfortunately, were heard as they echoed down the halls. The digging around your insides was not pleasant, and you started to wonder if it would be better just leaving the slug in there. Your screams, however, dimmed as he prodded deeper into the cavity of your abdomen. Even when the bullet had been retrieved, the process of disinfecting the wound was just as, if not more, grueling. By then, the only indicator of your pain was the tears welled up on your lash line — tears that never fell.

It had been while Hongo was finally bandaging you that he had noticed what you were trying to hide — the reason you hadn't wanted anyone in the room. He nearly had missed it too; the mark was faint, but it was there — the ghost of the hoof of the soaring dragon. A slave branding. The mark of a celestial dragon.

Oh, shit.

The doctor’s movements had faltered at the discovery. You knew that he had seen it, and that scared you. “Please don't tell him," you said, voice so faint it was practically like a child's. The plea had taken the doctor by surprise. He knew who you were talking about but was confused as to why you were begging him to keep it a secret from him of all people — surely he had seen it...right?

"I won't," he responded, the tension in your shoulders dissipating slightly. "Promise?" you asked in the same small voice. "I promise," he reaffirmed. The reassurance allowed you to finally relax; it was as if you had given your body the permission to show the extent of your injuries, and the world slipped into black quickly.

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

Shanks had known that returning to the ship with you, an injured civilian, before departing from the island would raise some eyebrows from the crew, which is exactly what happened. The captain, however, ignored the surprised faces and questioning looks, not even sparing them a glance. They could wait, preferably for a time when you were not actively bleeding out. 

He watched you leave, walking your damn self to the infirmary out of sheer willpower alone. At least your stubbornness from earlier hadn't been personal. You were limping and stumbling, but you were still upright, and that said a lot about you. Shanks felt someone walk up beside him; he didn't have to look to know who it was. His right-hand man, Benn Beckman, joined him in his observation. The gears in the yonko's mind were turning, trying to figure you out. Only when you had turned a corner did the first mate speak. "She coming with?" he asked. "Yes," the captain answered definitively, the decision already final. Beck took a drag from his lit cigarette and nodded, "She crew?" "No," at least not yet.

Shanks had been stiff since he arrived, which was noticed by people onboard. In attempt to lighten the mood, someone shouted, "We takin' fugitives now?" He cracked a smile and loosened up a little, a series of laughs also ringing out on deck. While the joke had helped to cut some of the tension he had been feeling, he was still worried about you, probably more than he should be. You’ll be fine. You’ve gotta be.

“Let’s get going, yeah?” the captain proclaimed, and the crew, like a well-oiled machine, quickly unmoored the ship and set off. Both Beckman and Yasopp had stayed by Shanks’ side; the first mate’s continued presence made sense, but the sniper’s didn’t. “Yassop, what ya doing? Don’t go deadbeat on your crew now too,” Shanks joked, the mirth in his voice was noticeably forced. “Haha, very funny Captain,” Yasopp deadpanned. The captain clapped his back to send the man off, but he didn’t move. “Now, where do you want this?” Yasopp asked, raising the trunk you had packed. Oh yeah, he had forgotten about that.

“Umm…” Shanks tried to think of a spot for you outside of the infirmary, where you would surely be staying for the foreseeable future, but he was drawing a blank. "Bring it to the guest quarters," Beckman said, the slightest twinkle of mischief in his eyes — which the captain was blind to as his back was towards the man, but Yasopp had caught it. He understood what Benn had been playing at and he smiled knowingly. The guest quarters were right next to the captain's. The sniper verified the option with the captain, who nodded in agreement before he walked away. 

"Make sure you get someone to clean it, I don't know the last time we used it," the captain shouted over his shoulder. Yasopp and Beckman shared a knowing grin before dissipating.

One of the newer recruits (newer was a subjective term as he’d been on the ship for a couple of years) came running out on deck. He had been one of the people to follow you and Hongo to the medical bay, so when he had come rushing back with urgency, Shanks’ heart had dropped into his stomach. He felt nauseous, fearing the worst.

Instead of delivering the dreaded news, the man called out for any donors with your specific blood type. Shanks didn’t realize it, but there was something threatening in his eyes that signaled if anyone had your blood type, they better fucking go. The look on the captain’s face had several men following the first to the medical area despite the fact that he had only requested two or three.

After that, Shanks had tried to go back to his captainly duties and help get the ship out to sea, but he was doing a shit job at hiding his worry. He didn’t even understand why he was so worried about you; you’d likely be fine, but he felt sick to his stomach regardless.

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

Shanks had been on his way to check on you in the infirmary when he heard screams echoing in the hallways — your screams. They were muffled, but they were still audible. He’d been around long enough to know that you were likely getting the bullet taken out. He thought about turning around, but the screams stopped before he could. The abruptness that the screams dropped off concerned him, and he picked up his pace.

He listened at the door just to make sure that you were alive without disrupting your privacy. Hearing your voice was a relief, but then he realized what you’d said: "Please don't tell him." He could put two and two together. He knew it was him you were talking about. What were you keeping from him? Oh no. You couldn’t be…? …right? But what else would you beg a doctor to keep from him? A part of him wanted to just barge into the room and find out for himself, but he had enough self-control not to. Instead, he would wait outside the door until he got word on your condition.

 A few moments later, when Hongo opened the door, nearly running into the man he’d just promised to keep something from. Shanks had been stood at the door, staring blankly, eyebrows furrowed in thought, which he had been so lost in that it had taken him a moment to realize someone was in front of him.

Shanks couldn’t help himself, he asked point blank, “What aren’t you supposed to tell me?” The doctor sidestepped him, directing a nearby medic to make sure you rested and let him know if anything changed in your condition. “You know I can’t tell you that.” The captain didn’t like that answer; he was worried about you in general and feared that whatever you were keeping from him involved him somehow. “I can keep a secret,” he tried again, falling into step with the man.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Hongo looked his captain in the eyes. “Respectfully, Captain, it isn’t for me to say.” Hongo stood firm on his position, but threw the emperor a bone when he stayed tensed. “It’s got nothing to do with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The information brought Shanks a little bit of relief. Although he wanted to know what was being kept from him, he let the matter go and switched topics. “How’s she?”

“She lost a lot of blood. I don’t know how she was still walking — most of our men could not have done that,” Hongo admitted. Shanks had recognized how far your sheer willpower went, it had been impressive. “We are insanely lucky that it just missed her artery or else no amount of will could’ve gotten her here.” That was a fact Shanks wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It scared him more than it should have. “Nothing too major was damaged, but she’ll need to be on bedrest for several days, possibly more, the recovery in total will take a couple of weeks. Right now, infection is what we need to watch out for.”

Shanks nodded in understanding before a bell rang out in the halls. Several years back, Lucky Roux, the ship’s head chef, had gotten annoyed — for probably the first time in his life — at people complaining that food was cold multiple hours after it had been cooked, so he had a bell installed to signal meal time (also used for booze). After that it was your own fault if your food got cold or you missed a meal. The two men changed corse, making their way to the mess hall.

Hongo hadn’t been entirely convinced that the captain was unaware of the brand on your back, even if you had believed he was oblivious. It was a delicate situation to broach. “Do you know her history? There’s gotta be something there for her to be able to take a bullet like that.” He’d chosen his words carefully as to not break his promise, plus, it was an actual question he had. “You didn’t hear?” News had always seemed to spread like wildfire on board so it surprised Shanks that the doctor hadn’t heard what happened back on the island.

Down the hall, Yasopp, ever the story teller, could be heard telling the story animately. “—and that’s when everyone left the bar. She even got a few marines—” A sizable crowd had gathered around him listening to his tale. "Go sit in, you'll see what I'm talking about," Shanks said to Hongo, clapping him twice on the back before leaving him there.

He spotted Beckman, who stood nearby against a wall enjoying the story despite having had lived it. “Just the man I wanted to see,” Shanks said, approaching him. “Can I have you look into—“ “Her bounty? Yes,” the man cut him off, both spoke in hushed tones.

“It always freaks me out when you do that,” Shanks said faking a shiver. Benn smiled, his cigarette still in his mouth, and shrugged, "What can I say? I know you best." 

“Just find out what you can and let me know. You’ll probably have to ask around ‘cause there’s no way in hell they shared what actually had happened.”  The red-haired pirate went to leave before returning. Speaking once again in a quiet voice he said, “And I think this goes without saying, but don’t let her know you’re doing this.” He had realized that you would not be happy with everyone knowing your past after you had gone to such lengths to hide it. “And the others too,” he added. “Of course, Captain,” his first made responded. Feeling satisfied with the answer, Shanks walked off.

“—and then she, with out thinking, asked me if I had a habit of playing reverse Russian roulette,” Yasopp had found that quip really funny, laughing loudly just recounting it.

“She got you good with that one,” Shanks chimed in as he passed by. “Maybe it’ll teach ya to keep your gun full.” Yasopp’s justification was covered by the captain’s laugh.

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

It had long been dark by the time you woke up. Pale moonlight streamed through the dark room; you blinked away the sleepiness and reoriented yourself. Memories from earlier streamed back into your mind as you recognized where you were and why. Lying in a hospital bed on a damn pirate ship. Oh god. One thing you knew for sure was that there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself be confined to a bed, injury be damned. 

You sat upright, swinging your feet over the edge of the mattress; the motion sent off your pain receptors, and you winced. Your arm got tangled in the IV line in your arm that you hadn’t noticed, so you ripped the needle out before looking around the room for your bloodied shirt.  There was no sign of the garment, but there was, however, a nicely folded (hopefully clean) shirt at your bedside. The shirt was much too big for you, but it was something, and you hated your back being exposed.

Exiting the confines of the stuffy infirmary, you set out to find people or just something to do. Truth be told, wandering around only worsened the pain, but it hadn’t stopped you. It didn’t take too long for you to stumble upon a small group of people gathered playing cards. Most of the players were people that you recognized, several of whom you actually knew the names of. Yasopp and Lucky Roux greeted you exaggeratively, an energy that you returned at a mere fraction. Unfortunately for you, Hongo, the doctor, had been one of the players with their back to you, and hearing your name, he turned around.

“You shouldn’t be walking,” he stated, rearranging his cards. “But I’m so good at it,” you joked, approaching the group. “Seriously, you could reopen your wound,” the doctor tried to reason. “Good thing you’re right here to help me then,” you said, patting him on the shoulder and taking an empty seat. “What’re we playing, boys?” You asked, rubbing your hands together, completely brushing off his concerns. Hongo recognized the signs that it would be a losing battle trying to get you to go rest, so he gave up trying to convince you.

“If you want something to drink, we’ve some sake and some rum over there,” Yasopp offered[slurring his words], pointing to some barrels with his glass. “Oh hell yeah,” you exclaimed, standing back up and waltzing over to the alcohol, your enthusiasm bringing about some laughs. You were glad to have something to undercut the pain of your wound and filled a cup practically to the brim before downing it. A large portion of the liquid had missed your mouth in your eagerness to down the drink. Then it was rinse and repeat for a couple of glasses.

The spectacle had one of the senior officials at the nearby table remarking how much your behavior mimicked a certain redhead they all knew, a consensus that was unilaterally agreed upon. You had heard them but just rolled your eyes, filling the cup a final time before returning to your seat. “Sorry ‘bout that, I wanted to catch up with everybody,” you joked, commenting on the varying degrees of intoxication.

“Want in?” The dealer asked, dealing you in before you nodded. “But what are we playing?” You asked, picking up your cards. Multiple people spoke on top of each other trying to answer your question or explain the rules. You laughed — it had felt good to laugh, other than the pain shooting through with the movements. “Ehh, I’ll figure it out,” you waved off the explanations.

You had, in fact, figured it out with no intervention, sweeping the floor with them. Your winning streak stopped after the third round, but playing was still fun. The good vibe had you forgetting the circumstances of why you were with the pirates in the first place — until your cup had run dry and your liver started putting work in. You needed more. Announcing you’d be back, you returned to the liquor only to run into someone along the way.

Shanks hadn’t thought of himself as a possessive man, but he had been momentarily distracted at seeing you in his shirt for the second time in twenty-four hours, and he had to remind himself that he was no longer allowed to think like that. Once his mind cleared, anxiety set in. “Whoah, where’d’ya think you’re going, sweetheart?” He questioned, wearing his signature grin, which was conflicted by the worry in his eyes.

You met his smile and raised the empty tankard, shaking it and said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I need a refill.” {You were being cute.} “I like the spirit, but you should probably be lying down,” he countered, the extent of his concern for you was, well, concerning to him. “I’m fine,” you smiled up at him. “No bleeding, practically good as new,” you reassured him, giving him a 360 as if that would prove your point. 

“You were shot,” he said, not buying it. “I’ve been shot before, I’ll be alright,” you tell him. Some bounty hunter years ago had taken the “dead” part of “dead or alive” a bit too seriously and had gotten you in the shoulder. It had been a bitch to heal, but you had lived through it once, you could do it again. Your reassurance hadn’t been reassuring for the man at all. You had a move to walk around him, but he blocked in your path, “Hongo said you need to rest, you should go lie down,”

“I tried to tell her, Captain,” the man in question piped up from the table nearby. It was clear that they had all been watching your exchange. “See? He said it’s okay,” you tried to justify. “Well, Captain’s right. You should be resting,” Hongo said, causing Shanks to give you the I-told-you-so look. “Whose side are you on?” You questioned the doctor, then returned your gaze to the man in front of you. “I am fine. You don’t need to worry your pretty little mind.”

Ignoring your words, he put his arm around you. “I’m afraid it’s the doctor’s orders, love,” he said, putting his arm around you. “Come on, Doll, I’ll walk you.” You shook his arm off you, stepping out from under him. “I told you I’m not doing it.” You looked him dead in the eyes with defiance. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “At least sit down,” he negotiated. “I will,” you said, and he smiled. “After I get a drink.” His temper was officially wearing thin. “I’ll do it,” he attempted a compromise. “I don’t need a man to get me a fucking drink, Shanks.” You stepped around the tall man, continuing your mission.

Shanks turned around and spoke with authority, stopping you in your tracks. “I am telling you, you need to rest.” His captain’s voice was much less sexy now that he had actually been trying to tell you what to do. “And I told you no,” you said with just as much authority and fire in your eyes. A silent battle flared between the two of you, neither side willing to back down. Deciding to be the one to end it, you walked off without a word, skipping out on the alcohol.

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

After walking away, you had found a quiet corner of the deck. The stars were so unbelievably bright out in the deep darkness of the open waters. You had always found nights to be more beautiful on the sea, but it had been years since you had the luxury of such a view. It felt peaceful, but looks could be deceiving. 

You leaned against the railing, staring blankly at the horizon. Waves crashed up against the ship, providing an ambient background noise as you lost yourself in thought. 

The ordeal from earlier in the day, particularly being called by your birth name, had brought back a lot of memories. Some were good, like the ones of your family and your father teaching you how to fight, but others — the majority of them — were ugly.

The night you had been taken, the last time you had a true taste of freedom. You cursed your younger self for letting her guard down so far. Everything that had gone wrong in your life could all be traced back to that moment. You knew it was unfair to blame yourself for it. You had just been a kid, but you had been old enough to be smarter, and you weren't. 

The thing that really haunted your mind as you stared out into the vastness of the sea was the night that earned you a bounty. The night that lived on in your nightmares. You could still hear the screams and smell the smoke. You had taken multiple lives that night. Some of them had deserved it, to be honest, but there were several who had been victims of both you and your captors. They hadn't deserved the death they received, but a sick part of you had always wondered if it would have been better than the alternative for them.

The Celestial Dragons had long been notorious for their sick and twisted ways. You had regretted how it had all played out, but you had never regretted what you did. But the blood still lived on your hands — no matter what you tried, it never washed off.

You were pulled out of your dark thoughts by the creaking of the floorboards. A quick glance to the side showed Beckman walking your way. He stopped a few feet away from you, leaning his back against the railing. You heard the click of a lighter as he lit up a cig. For a while, the two of you existed in silence. You knew that he knew that you should be resting or whatever, but he never said anything about your injury.

"You were impressive today, didn't know you had that in you," Beckman's deep voice piercing the stillness of the night. You chuckled, almost bitterly staring at the water, "I don't want to be impressive. I want to be safe." You heard him take a drag from his cigarette before he responded, "With the World Government after you, that might not be a choice." Admittedly, it was not what you wanted to hear at all, but you knew he spoke the truth. A new wave of silence overtook you both; it was hard to measure how much time went by until he broke the silence once again.

"You're a lot like him, you know," Benn said. That was the second time that night you heard someone say that. "What?" You knew who he was talking about, but you were confused as to why he was saying it. "I think that's why we all like you so much," he continued as if you hadn't spoken. "What do you mean?" you questioned him again, fully turning your body to face him. "Exactly what I said," he replied with a smile before he left, leaving you alone to figure out what the fuck he had meant.

end a/n: AAAAAHHHHHHHH i did it!!!!! very excited about this one, have a rough plan for what's next but idk when that'll happen.

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it 💕

more from me

[jeeblie]

I really want to share, a little tidbit from some of the stuff I'm working on

But you SYA fans have to keep it a secret from SYA fans that don't have tumbler- it'll be a little Easter egg secret for the ones that figured out I reside here 😈

Discord SYA'ers- go ham with it 👍👍

chapter bomb spoilers

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⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ spoilers ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

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⚠️s🚨p💥o📢i🚨l⚠️e💥r🚨s📢📢🚨💥⚠️

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"You are like, the softest cutest thing right now, idk where you got your idea about being big and bad-"

Still scratching the back of his fuzzy neck, the puttering in his chest is the loudest its been, and you can see him struggling to get his wits back.

You can't help but laugh.

"Literal kitten." You grin, "Technokitty."

He frowns at you, with his big boar face, and fuzzy eyebrows, and scar marred skin. His tusks are way longer then when he's human, and without much thought you switch from scratching the back of his neck, to grabbing both his tusks in your hand.

His eyes are intense, absorbing your every move with the dialated look of a wolf that found prey.

"Kittens can't break arms." He murmurs, hands sliding up the bed to circle around the joint of your elbow.

His hands were bigger then before, engulfing your biceps and halting all arm movement.

He lightly squeezes your elbow and it forces you to release your grip of his tusks.

"But kittens do go limp when someone grabs their scruff." You try to say confidently in reference to just moments before where Techno was limp with your touch, but his eye contact is incredibly intense and leaves you feeling skittish.

He puffs a hot rush of laughter at you, chin still perched against your chest, large ribcage still pinning your abdomen to the bed, hips still slotted between yours, and tail lazily waving like a flag.

Still completely flattening you to the bed.

You're suddenly more aware of the position you're in.

He doesn't say anything after his puff of laughter, but there's a clear idea in his head as he releases one of your arms, hand quick to slid up under your neck to palm at the base, fingers sliding up into your hair from the roots-

His hand tightens, a gentle but firm pressure that pulls your head upward, exposing your neck.

He scruffed you. By the neck.

As if to say, 'Who's really the kitten?'

A chittering noise in your throat bubbles up, and with your one free arm, you drop your hand onto his snout-

You felt embarrassed- you could feel the heat rushing to your face and his all consuming gods damned eyeballs wouldn't stop being deadlocked onto you

"Alright buster-" you thrash yourself, trying to fight back, "You need to learn your lesson."

You shove his snout off you, wriggling to get out from under him, and you can feel the laughter in his chest.

The hand behind your neck releases, like he can sense your fluster and knows to give you your space.

He's shifting back, human features quick to align themselves into a prideful and amused facial expression. Too cocky.

The urge to knock him down a peg or two is strong.

He relents, anchoring himself up off of you with a snarky laugh.

He won whatever this was- and out of spite, as soon as he was sitting on the side of the bed with both feet against the floor, you bumped your forehead against his arm and nipped at him.

Nothing painful, no force behind your jaw, but a clear drag of your sharper teeth against skin, ending with a pinch and release.

His eyes flick in your direction, and you're immediately filled with a giddy fear- the kind of fear that you get when you're playing tag and the chaser is right behind you as you run.

Your fight or flight flickers to life and it screams RUN.

You fucking flounder off the bed, squealing as you attempt to run by, dropping to the floor.

That lasted all of two seconds as Techno snatches you up before you even make contact. Before you can even get to your feet and start to flee.

His grin is downright evil, hauling your body up into the air, rising to his feet to really increase how much you were dangling.

One hand was against your back, fisting the fabric of your shirt and pulling you into reach of his other arm, which hooks around your ribcage and presses your back to his chest.

"Alright- okay- I show mercy and you pick another fight- I see how this is-" he grits, evil.

You're laughing so hard, flailing in an attempt to be released, but with how hard you're laughing your attempts are downright pitiful.

"Alright- where should I bite as payback- huh?" He huffs, glowering down at you as you grin in pure glee and giddy fear.

"NOoO-" you laugh, all attempts at coming up with an actual argument reduced to a single word.

"Forearm?" He says, using his free hand to grab your arm, forceably pulling it to his face, and you feel him press his closed teeth to the skin.

"NoOooo-" you whine- tugging your arm out of his hold and grabbing his wrist to try to keep him from further manhandling you.

"Shoulder?" He says, curling around you to press his closed teeth to the fabric of your shirt. You still feel his tusks through the fabric.

"TEchnoooo-" you shimmy, looking down at the floor in hopes that the arm keeping you held against him loosens enough for you to drop and run.

"Neck?" He says.

His voice drops to the most serious it could sound, and you genuinly can't tell if it's a part of the bit or if he's actually serious, but the next moment you feel his closed teeth gently resting against the outer layer of skin on your neck and you freeze.

Hot breath pans all across your neck, sending goosebumps scuttling across you.

No bite. Just a threat. Skin untouched other then the teeth resting against it.

You could feel his grin, feel as it started to drop into something more serious.

Hear as he took in an unsteady breath.

Hear his chest gently come to life with a deep rumble.

Before you could say anything, he nipped you, just as gently as you did, only his tusks dug at you, not breaking skin, but dragging in a way that almost hurt.

You audibly 'meeped'. Going limp in his hold and Techno proceeded to set you on your feet and peel himself off you.

When you turn around to look at him (your eyes all wide with how flustered you were) he's already laying on the bed, back facing you and curled into a ball.

"You win- scram nerd-" he says- refusing to look at you. Like he just embarrassed himself. You catch sight of his ears, flushed completely red.

You imagine you aren't too far off from the same.

[rhey-007]

The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P7 of Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader

• | social media au

Summary: You and Fernando finally make your relationship public.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader

A/N: Enjoy another part of The Mystery of Love. I know I was supposed to post it two weeks ago but I felt like shit and didn't manage to finish it... 😔 And I have to stop promising things, ik no one read them but still.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know! ☺

Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🥀 INSTAGRAM 🥀༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, maxverstappen1, landonorris and 15,824 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: finally managed to convince •fernandoalo_oficial for some dress up! 🤭🥰

•user1: Nando as a goth is something we all needed 😍

•user2: you guys slayed, as always!

•user3: real life Morticia and Gomes! 💞

•landonorris: DAMN! grandpa looking good!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: language!

→ •landonorris: sorry 🤭😋

→ •user3: Nando definitely mad over grandpa not damn lol

•user4: now the only thing we need is a goth family photo shoot! 😍

•user5: you're too old for this, it's just childish

→ •user6: oh shut up you know nothin

→ •user7: they're adults they can dress however they want

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☃️ INSTAGRAM ☃️༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by mickkschumacher, y/n._.l/n and 958 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, lance_stroll

•kl.au_s: ⛷️🏂🏔

•mickkschumacher: beautiful! next time I'm going with ya!

→ •user7: MICK NO!

→ •user8: HAVE YOU NOT LEARNT ANYTHING???

→ •user9: Fernando hasn't either....

→ •user10: no driver had.....

•lance_stroll: and to thinks pops still has strength for skiing 🤔

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: what are you talking about, I have lots of energy not only for skiing 😉

→ •kl.au_s: 💀

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌱 INSTAGRAM 🌱༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 85,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s

•aussiegrit: a little trip with friends 😃🏕🚴

•kl.au_s: UNCLE MARK NOOO BSJDHJRNDLSF

→ •aussiegrit: did I do something wrong? 😔

→ •user11: uncle?

→ •user12: just wait and he'll call Nando dad

•user13: IS THAT FERNANDO AND Y/N KISSING IN THE BACKGROUND???

→ •user14: oh my god it is!

•user15: 🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

→ •user16: Markie definitely should've put a spoiler alert 🫠

•user16: not Mark leaking what everyone already knew 😭

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍷 INSTAGRAM 🍷༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by aussiegrit, jensonbutton and 10,985 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lance_stroll

•y/n._.l/n: I'm not a fan of big birthday parties but I couldn't be more grateful for Fernie and the boys throwing a HUUUGE dinner just for me and accept me and my sons into their racing family. I love all of you, but especially my boo Fernando 🥰💞 Thank you once again!

(ans please don't come for Mark, he tried his best :) )

•user17: FINALLY

•user18: couldn't you announce it earlier? It was so obvious from the very beginning

→ •user19: chill, maybe they just didn't feel like it

•user20: exactly, not everyone has to be ready for something like this right away

•jensonbutton: for what this announcement? 🤨didn't everyone already know?

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🤦‍♀️

•susiewolff: Congrats on finally getting the courage to tell the world! 💞

•aussiegrit: amazing party!

→ •landonorris: of course it was! after all I was the one who organized it 💅

→ •carlossainz55: oi! you didn't do it alone! > : (

→ •maxverstappen1: exactly!

→ •oscarpiastri: kids calm down 🙄

→ •y/n._.l/n: exactly.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍾 INSTAGRAM 🍾༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, carlossainz55 and 105,627 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, carlossains55, oscarpiastri, landonorris, lance_stroll

•fernandoalo_oficial: sweet 40 🤭🥳🎉💝

•aussiegrit: best party ever!

•user21: that looks so fun 😭😩

•user22: Y/N looking exceptionally good! 💗

→ •user23: as she always does 😍👑

•y/n._.l/n: thank you baby! ☺😘

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: everything for you honey~ ❤

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💘 INSTAGRAM 💘༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lilimhe and 17,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official

•y/n._.l/n: I'm so glad I've met you 💞

•lilimhe: yes mama!!! you two are so cuuuute!

→ •y/n._.l/n: you and Alex too!!! 😘

→ •alex_albon: of course we are! 😁 <3

•fernandoalo_oficial: I'm glad I met you too mi gusanito ❤🧡💛💚💙💜 (my little bug)

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🥰

→ •kl.au_s: 🤢🤮

→ •y/n._.l/n: KLAUS!

→ •kl.au_s: 🫣

→ •user23: not Klaus ruining this cute moment xD

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💋 INSTAGRAM 💋༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, sebastianvettel and 156,256 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n

•fernandoalo_oficial: mi vida, mi alma, mi amor, mi hermosa, mi cariño 💘 (my life, my soulmate, my love, my beautiful, my sweety)

•kl.au_s: I swear to God you guys are GROSS 💀

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: could say the same bout you and Bluebell ��‍♀️

→ •kl.au_s: oh shut up, at least we ain't kissing everywhere we go >:(

•landonorris: I think I'm to young for such photos...

•maxverstappen1: jeez pops calm down! we know you love her!

•user24: that is a really nice photoshoot

→ •user25: those photos gonna be def used in fanfics XD

•sebasrianvettel: so happy for you two!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Tag list: @morgan-getty @lichterfee @ashy-kit @champomiel

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell 2

A/N: second chapter! no spicey here just yet. sorry!~ im not that good at writing yet. xP Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Warnings/Promises: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show, Vox, Attempted Manipulation, successful Manipulation

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

"so, tell me, what useful information could you, someone this new to hell, possibly have?"

Vox sits down and leans back in his chair, watching you with a bored expression on his screen. urgh. right. he probably watched you spawning (arriving?) in hell. this is gonna be a hard one to explain. fiddling with your fingers anxiously, you look everywhere but at his screen.

you already regret coming here first, and not getting yourself a fidget toy first or something. or some pills to help keep your anxiety down. shit, you probably look scared out of your mind right now. he's gonna think you're really weird and rude if you speak up like this. or straight up lying. but for fucks sake - you can't bring yourself to look directly at him.

instead - you take in your surroundings. Vox's office. you only know it's impressive size from the Screenshots of the show, and literally sitting in it now is even more impressive. it consists of a gigantic room, an equally gigantic shark tank below, and a big round platform in the middle, which is connected to the door with a long passway. no idea how this could possibly fit into the tower without having it collapse from the sheer weight of the water alone - the only logical answer would be it being underground.

your eyes wander back to the platform, which is decorated with Vox's emblem. illuminated by a bright array of screens behind it, a round control pult sits at the back end of the platform. infront of it in a spinny chair with it's tips pointing upwards, is a rather impatient looking Vox seated.

oops.

you better get to answering his question.

you clear your throat and swallow, unsure how to even start. thankfully, you get your own chair - manifested with a wave of Vox's hand - to sit into. hoping you aren't sweating too visibly right now, you collect your thoughts. if you know one thing, it's not to sell yourself short.

"well, you see, that's hard to explain. and, you, as the head of.. technology.., surely understand that information is a valuable resource. I can't just.. give it away for free."

taking a deep breath, you lean back a little, trying to at least look more relaxed than you actually are. nervousness isn't even close anymore, like, are you panicking already?? well, at least you can mask it pretty well, you think.

"but I can say this much: I have so much information on Alastor," you think you hear a slight glitch coming from Vox at the mention of the name, "and the others in the Hotel, it's not even funny. Just.. I have a few small questions for you first."

a short glance up into the TV Demon's face tells you he raised an eyebrow. is he interested?? you hope he is. with all you got.

"go on, ask your questions."

wait. isn't he usually more talkative than that? nono, you can't spend a thought on that right now. you need to focus.

"When did the last extermination happen?"

"about a week ago."

"okay.. any interesting or unexpected turns of events? I just have to know what happened and what didn't. I-I know this sounds cryptic, and maybe even crazy, but I need to know at what time I got here."

silence fills the room for a moment. you dare to glance at the Overlord again, and he musters you with an expression you can't quite place.

did you mess up?

But Vox interrupts your thought before you can continue it. "... the hotel members fought back against the Angels, and won. that's all." relieved, you let out breath you didn't realize you were holding. okay. that's good to know. so the extermination already happened. it makes a good bunch of your information useless, but still. you can work with that. now you just need to-

"I think I provided enough information to you now," the Overlord begins, interrupting your thoughts again. his voice is oddly sweet. "its time you return the favor, my dear." - of course, he's trying to get the info out of you without paying for it.

how greedy.

you adjust your position on the chair, crossing one leg over the other, before looking directly at him. he's wearing his signature smile, his digital eyes looking  almost affectionately at you, but you know better than to trust the façade he put on.

"I told you, I'm not going to just give it away for free. And don't even try to fob me off with stuff like any of your products, pins, an autograph or similar worthless knick-knacks. That won't work on me. Trust me."

you glance at him again to gauge his reaction, and he seems surprised to hear you use his own slogan against him, but he quickly regains his composure. good. now just don't get any hypnotizing ideas, Vox...

"No, what I want is... actually quite simple. I want to be able to come and go to the entirety of this tower how and when I please. and.." you can't help a small smile at the thought of the Moth Man, "I want to see Valentino. preferably after our conversation."

and again, silence fills the room. you watch him tap the armrest of his chair with his fingers, thinking about your demands. you can't tell if he's going to give in to them or just declare you as crazy and throw you out, but you hope dearly it's not the latter.

just as the silence begins to get uncomfortable, the TV Demon clicks his tongue and stands up. your eyes dart up, and you automatically stand up too. what's happening? is he gonna throw you out now? - "alright. I accept. you may come and go freely, I'll get you your meeting with Val, and in turn, I get all the information you got on the Hotel and it's residents. Deal?"

Staring down at the hand he holds out, your mind whirls for a moment, overwhelmed with the action. you never thought he'd also make deals like Alastor - another detail they're matching each other in. you always thought he'd just somehow get peoples souls with sneaky contracts being signed when buying a Voxtek product or something.

as soon as you take his cold hand, he gives yours a firm shake, his smile widening to a grin as his face glitches momentarily. bright blue electrical currents and sparks begin to flow around the two of you for a moment, together with an intense blue light and a metallic screech. but as soon as it came, it's gone, and before you can waste a thought on it, Vox lets go of your hand, instead placing his around your shoulders as he guides you towards the door. "fantastic. now that that's done, how about we go check if Val's got some free time for you, hmm?"

you're confused.

doesn't he want your informations now?

on second thought - you don't mind too much. this way you have more of a reason to stick around and return.

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist

─❲♡❳▷Main List

[eurodynamic]

🚨⚠️🚨 i will be tagging veilguard spoilers as #datv spoilers like i've been doing (adding some other spoiler tags too just to cover my bases) please use the filtering tools at your disposal! okay thanks bye

[jacksonmovers]

🚚 Moving Soon? Don’t Get Ripped Off! Here’s How to Compare Moving Quotes & Pick the BEST Offer

Planning a move but drowning in confusing quotes? 😓 You’re not alone! With moving scams on the rise and prices all over the map, comparing quotes can feel like decoding a secret language. But don’t stress—we’ve got your back. Here’s your step-by-step guide to comparing quotes like a pro and avoiding costly mistakes. Let’s dive in!

Step 1: Get Multiple Quotes (But Not Just Any Quotes!)

📝 Rule #1: Always get 3–5 quotes from licensed, insured movers. Skip the sketchy “too-good-to-be-true” ads on Craigslist. 🔍 Pro Tip: Reputable companies offer FREE in-home or video surveys to give accurate estimates. If they quote you over the phone without seeing your stuff? 🚩 Red flag!

Step 2: Break Down What’s Actually Included

Not all quotes are apples-to-apples. Compare these details: ✅ Services: Packing, loading, furniture disassembly, or just transportation? ✅ Materials: Are boxes, tape, and padding included? (Spoiler: Cheap quotes often skip these!) ✅ Insurance: Basic coverage vs. full-value protection? (Your grandma’s antique clock deserves better than 60 cents per pound!) ✅ Hidden Fees: Ask about charges for stairs, heavy items, or long carries.

💥 Hot Take: If a quote is WAY cheaper than others, ask WHY. Cheap often = cutting corners.

Step 3: Know the Pricing Models

Movers use different formulas. Which one are they pitching?

Hourly Rate: Great for local moves, but confirm how many workers/trucks they’ll send.

Flat Fee: Best for long-distance—just make sure it’s binding (no surprise charges!).

Weight-Based: Common for cross-country moves. Ask how they’ll weigh your stuff (scales can be shady).

🔥 Ask This: “Is this quote binding, non-binding, or not-to-exceed?” (Hint: Not-to-exceed is your BFF.)

Step 4: Play Detective 🕵️♂️

Before signing ANYTHING:

Check Reviews: Google, Yelp, BBB. Look for patterns like “damaged items” or “hidden fees.”

Verify Credentials: For interstate moves, search their USDOT number on the FMCSA site.

Get Everything in Writing: No verbal promises! A legit contract includes delivery dates, payment terms, and cancellation policies.

🚨 Avoid: Companies asking for a huge cash deposit upfront. Legit movers usually require 10–20%.

Step 5: Negotiate Like a Boss

Yes, you CAN haggle! Use competing quotes to ask for:

Discounts (especially for off-season moves!).

Free packing supplies or a storage waiver.

A price-match guarantee.

💡 Pro Move: “I’ve got another quote for $X. Can you match it or include free mattress covers?”

The Golden Rule: Cheap ≠ Better

Remember your friend who hired the cheapest movers… and ended up with a broken TV and a bill double the quote? 😬 Don’t be that person. Paying a little extra for a reputable company saves you time, stress, and money in the long run.

Your Quick Checklist ✅

Got 3–5 quotes from licensed movers?

Compared services, materials, and insurance?

Googled reviews and checked USDOT numbers?

Negotiated and locked in a binding quote?

Ready to Move Stress-Free? 💪 Jackson Movers offers transparent, no-surprise quotes for local and long-distance moves. We’ll even help you unpack that heirloom china! 📦✨ 👉 Get Your Free Quote Today: www.jacksonmovers.com

Got Moving Questions? Drop them below! 👇 Tag a friend who’s moving soon—they’ll thank you later! 🙌

#MovingHacks #RelocationTips #DontGetScammed

[peterbarnes]

We’ll Say Hello Again: Part 2

🚨*SPOILER WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN NWH*🚨

Summary: Post NWH. For the past few months, you’ve been consumed by loneliness. You felt like a piece of you was missing. But one day, you get an unexpected new neighbor: Peter Parker. And once he shows up, the puzzle slowly starts falling into place.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: i’ve had to repost this like three times bc tumblr hasn’t added it to the tags. fu tumblr

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Your last class ended around seven at night. You internally cursed yourself for scheduling a class so late as you pushed open the glass doors of the Humanities building. The wind roughly slapped your face and you thumbed the fabric of your jacket, pulling it tighter around your shivering frame. You buried your face into your scarf as you quickly made your way down the buzzling street. If you lived in one of the dorms, you’d only have to walk a block or two at most. But with Empire State University’s skyrocketing tuition and your crippling bank account, you had to shlep to your walk up apartment twenty blocks away.

A comforting warmth wrapped around you as you opened the door to your building. You thought about stopping at your mailbox, to see if any letters from Ned or MJ came in. It had been a thing you all came up with before you parted- always text and facetime when you can, but you had to write cute letters to each other detailing your days. Almost like a diary to make up for the absences in each others lives. But they’d stopped sending their letters a few weeks ago, claiming they were “too busy.” That memory stung at your chest as you walked passed your mailbox, ignoring the pulling urge to just go and check.

But what if-

There’s nothing there for you, [Y/N]. They don’t care about you anymore.

You groaned at the mental argument you were having before whipping back around to your mailbox. As the key turned in the lock you could’ve sworn you heard something shuffle, paper maybe? But when the small door to the metal box opened nothing was there to greet you. It was dark, empty, and cold.

“Well,” you mumbled to yourself, a lump in your throat growing. “Expect disappointment and you’ll never be disappointed, I guess.”

You sniffled into your scarf as you slowly turned toward the stairs, climbing up toward your apartment.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you spat as soon as you got in.

Even though the windows were closed, the room was freezing to the point where you could see your icy breath lace the air. You kicked the heater against the wall with a fury as you dropped your backpack onto your bed.

“Come on,” you yelled with each hit to the broken machine. “Fucking work!”

You went at it for a good minute, and when nothing changed an embarrassingly loud sob escaped your lips. You knew no one was there to witness it, but it didn’t make you feel any less pathetic. You fell down onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as you basked in your feelings of dread.

You’re barely passing your classes.

You’re broke.

Your friends hate you.

Your apartment’s falling apart.

You’re alone.

Tears tracked down your cheeks with each passing thought and you pushed your face into your pillow to hide your whimpers. You clutched onto the unwashed sheets as you sobbed out all the emotions you’d been holding inside for the past two months.

You’re alone.

A knock at your door sounded, startling you mid-breakdown.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, rapidly wiping at your bloodshot and wet eyes. You adjusted your clothes to look less wrinkled before you shot up from your bed and walked toward the door. Before touching the doorknob, you made sure to plaster the most convincing fake smile on your face. When you were satisfied enough with your demeanor you finally turned the knob.

“Oh, hi, Peter Parker,” you greeted, surprised to see your new neighbor standing in front of you. You’d figured it would be Mr. Ditkovich coming to collect rent.

“H-Hi,” he stuttered, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. “Are you okay? I, uh, heard a banging sound? And then something like a dying animal? I don’t know if you have a pet, but…”

Embarrassment completely overtook you, your face heating and fake smile turning to a real grimace.

“No, I don’t have a pet,” you responded slowly. “Just a rough day, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Peter let out. He always had this look on his face like he had something to say but wasn’t sure if he should say it. His lips kept opening and closing and his eyes wandered. After an awkward silence he finally went on. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in perplexion.

“D-Do you want to talk about it?” He repeated, his expression appearing increasingly nervous. “You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“No,” you interrupted quickly. “That’d be nice actually. Thank you, Peter.”

Your defeated frown and sad eyes bloomed into something happy. And it wasn’t fake this time. The upward quirk of your lips and the brightness in your eyes was more than real. And you had no idea how he managed to melt you so quickly with a few, stuttering words.

He nodded before nudging his head toward his door, leading you into his apartment.

“Thank god it’s warm in here,” you chuckled as you finally took off your coat. “My heater’s broken.”

Peter laughed with you before taking your coat and lying it over his bed post neatly.

“What a gentleman,” you joked, mentally high-fiving yourself when you saw his cheeks burn a bright red.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there, you know,” Peter spoke up as he saw you sit down on the window pane. He tapped the spot on the bed next to him, just like you had done the first time you met.

“So, why was your day so bad?” He asked. His tone wasn’t hesitant or cautious, but it was careful. He wasn’t scared of pushing too far, he just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You smiled in appreciation as you sat down on the bed.

“College sucks ass,” you blurted, throwing yourself backward so you could lay down. “I thought I would love it, you know? Everyone always talks about college as their glory days, but I’m pretty sure I peaked in high school. My only friends are in Boston, and now they won’t even talk to me anymore because they’re ‘too busy.’ My classes give way too much work for a single person to accomplish and…fuck, I sound like a child.”

You closed your eyes, covering your face with your hands as you let out a deep sigh. You felt something graze your skin when light peeked between your closed fingers. As your eyes opened you saw Peter gently prying your hands from your face, holding them in his own.

His hands were cold- that was the first thing you noticed. Cold and rough, with his fingertips covered in calluses. But you barely felt it as they still sent a shiver of warmth down your body.

You’d never been this close to him before. His face was mere inches away from yours and his eyes bored into your own. His eyes. The beautiful swirls of brown captivated you and you couldn’t help but get lost in them. So lost that you missed the way he looked at you- missed the captivation in his expression and the loss that hid behind it.

“You’re really pretty,” you whispered as you looked at him.

“You’re pretty, too,” he whispered back, smiling softly at you. “And you don’t sound like a child. You sound like you’re struggling.”

You nodded, embarrassed.

“But that’s okay,” he continued, his voice the most at ease and sincere you’ve ever heard it. “I’m struggling, too. First time I’ve ever really been on my own.”

“Me too…Can I ask you something?”

Peter nodded and a chestnut curl fell out of place down his forehead.

Oh, this guy’s adorable.

“Why’d you move here?”

And just like that it was over.

Peter jumped back off of you, untangling your hands and stepping away so there was at least a few feet of space between you. Your heart cried out at the loss of his touch and you sat up, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“Peter-”

“You should go,” he stated.

His eyes were trained to the floor, refusing to look even somewhat in your direction.

“Peter, what-”

“Seriously,” he snapped, tugging at his curls with his shaking hands. “Please, just go.”

He doesn’t want you either.

“Fine,” you flared, jumping up from his bed. You were glad he was looking away so he wouldn’t see the tears building up in your eyes at his rejection. Except you didn’t know why it hurt so much- you’d just met this guy, yet he had the power to either heal you or break you in two.

“See you around, Parker,” you choked before leaving his room, slamming the front door behind you. You were so consumed by your thoughts you barely noticed the freezing temperature of your apartment.

Someone please help me.

I don’t understand what’s happening.

Everything’s wrong.

I don’t know how to fix it.

I don’t know how to fix it.

I need to fix it.

Tag List:

@m-1234 @ameliejkl

@lizamango @i-has-no-lif3

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Universe Masterlist

Stark Spangled Man

Multi Chapter Story- Prequel to Stark Spangled Banner

Katie Stark first encountered SHIELD in 2010 after her bother’s capture in Afghanistan. Taking up Fury’s offer of a job, she is soon catapulted into a world of Spies, Gods and a certain blue-eyed Super Soldier that has returned after seventy years under ice…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark (Platonic…at this point!)

Warnings: Bad language, violence and angsty moments- Each chapter tagged appropriately so please read warnings and consume at your own risk.

Status: Complete

*********************

Stark Spangled Banner

Multi Chapter Story- Sequel to Stark Spangled Man Katie Stark and Steve Rogers are best friends, but what happens when that line between friendship and lovers gets crossed? Follow their story through the MCU and all the ups and downs along the way, as their forever unfolds.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language,  SMUT (NSFW, 18+) violence and angsty moments- Each chapter tagged appropriately so please read warnings and consume at your own risk.

Status: Complete

*********************

Stark Spangled Forever

A collection of interlinked Stark Spangled Forever One Shots and ‘What The Stark Spangled F**k’ drabbles, which continue the Rogers family story beyond Stark Spangled Banner

🚨 CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR STARK SPANGLED BANNER. I recommend that you read that series first! Raising a family is filled with ups and downs, in fact it’s Katie and Steve’s biggest mission yet filled with chaos, drama and a whole heap of love.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language,  SMUT (NSFW, 18+) violence and angsty moments- Each chapter tagged appropriately so please read warnings and consume at your own risk.

Status: Ongoing

*********************

Stark Spangled Destiny

Mini-Series: Part of the Stark Spangled Forever sequence Following the traumatic birth of her youngest, Katie has been struggling to cope, keeping her feelings hidden from Steve, until one day she snaps. Upset and ashamed, she decides to rake a drive to clear her head and finds herself at a very familiar place talking to two very familiar people- her best friend and her brother. Who better than to help her through her jumbled feelings? Only one problem: They’ve both been dead for seven years. And Katie doesn’t believe in ghosts…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language,  SMUT, violence and angsty moments- Each chapter tagged appropriately so please read warnings and consume at your own risk.

Status: Complete

*********************

Stark Spangled Rebirth

Mini-Series. Steve’s time spent in the 40s seems like a lifetime ago. And, whilst he wouldn’t change a single thing about his life, he has often been curious about how his story would have unfolded had he met Katie back then instead of seventy years later.

So, let’s find out! Follow their path through the CA-TFA storyline as they battle to take down HYDRA

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, SMUT (NSFW, 18+)  violence and angsty moments- Each chapter tagged appropriately so please read warnings and consume at your own risk.

Status: Ongoing

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Stark Spangled Social Media

A collection of SM posts from the SS universe.

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CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Multi Episode Story- CSI AU: Using OFC and plenty of references from the Stark Spangled Universe.

Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes are hot on the tail of Brooklyn’s latest criminal- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer. Captain Rogers assembles the best officers from the Brooklyn 101 Murder Unit. This specialist team, nicknamed The Avengers, are working in the dark as the killer leaves behind no clues, other than their choice of murder weapon- whichever beige cereal he/she chooses.

The team are in a race against time as the bodies begin to mount. Can they catch the perp before it’s too late?

Pairing- Steve Rogers X OFC Katie Stark (will they, won’t they, did they?)

Warnings- Dark Comedy. (CSI + Brooklyn 99 = CSI Steeb!) Mature themes, no under 18s. Specific warnings for each chapter.

Status-  Complete

[stuckinmymind22]

On The Run (part two)

part one

🚨🚨🚨MARINEFORD SPOILERS🚨🚨🚨

shanks x afab! reader (she/her)

tags: lovers (intimate) to lovers (romantic)

tw: ptsd, past kidnapping, past drugging, panic attacks, celestial dragons and sabaody, death (including violent), gore, nightmares (the fucked up kind), survior’s guilt, overall trauma

wc: 8.1k

a/n: soooo..... this was less than a third of what i had planned for this part BUT i realized i could make the parts smaller, plus this way theres not as much emotional whiplash. this one's gonna be hard but the next one is cute i promise!!!! okay love you enjoy <3 💕💕💕

summary: trauma has a funny way of coming back to haunt you,

Big reader lore drop lol 

Shanks wasn’t able to get any sleep that night. Far too much was on the man’s mind. Now, more than ever, the state of the future was full of uncertainty. Around two weeks had passed since the events at Marineford, and the consequences of Whitebeard’s death were finally being felt around the globe. The balance of power in the New World and the sea in its entirety had been disrupted deeply. Teach was finally becoming the problem Shanks had feared he would be, if he hadn’t already. Luffy’s condition was uncertain, while the yonko was certain the kid would pull through. The extent of the damage he’d taken (both physically and mentally) remained unclear. 

Also, it upset him how mad you had gotten with him — something he was fully aware should not be on the same level as the other issues, but it weighed on his mind nonetheless. Why it had bothered him so much he couldn't quite say.

At the smallest sign of daybreak, Shanks decided sleep was a lost cause. It marked the third night in a row with little to no sleep, and while the other two nights had been fun, this one had only been restless. Without a plan of what to do so early in the day, the captain aimlessly walked his ship.

While mindlessly wandering, the man nearly tripped over a pair of legs. He turned around, expecting to find one of his men passed out on deck, but instead he found you.

Shanks let out a sigh. He had come to realize how stubborn you could be over the past twenty-four hours. Propped up against an exterior wall, you were out cold. Speaking of cold, you were visibly freezing. Overnight, the ship had entered a new climate zone, and the temperature had dropped significantly. Without much thought, Shanks took off his cloak and draped it over your sleeping form. Immediately, your shivering stopped, and you snuggled into the warmth of the fabric.

The emperor didn’t know what to do with you. He debated waking you up — you really shouldn’t stay out in the elements like this, especially when you were so injured. Ultimately, he decided against it. He wasn’t sure if you would want to see him first thing in the morning after being so angry with him the night before, but you still shouldn’t be out on deck. Shanks knew from plenty of experience how unforgiving the wooden slats of the floor could be. 

If he wasn’t planning on waking you, he should at least move you. After your refusal to go to the medical bay the night before, he knew he ran the risk of you being upset with him, or more upset with him, but it was a risk he would take considering the alternative.

Gently, careful not to wake you, he looped your arms around his neck before sneaking his arm under you. In your sleep, you instinctively clung onto him as you left the ground. He left you at the infirmary, instructing one of Hongo’s assistants to let you be so you could sleep while also keeping a close eye on you, seemingly unaware of how those orders contradicted each other.

After dropping you off, Shanks returned to his pointless stroll. Nearing the sole office on the Red Force, which was his in name but not in practice, he noticed the light escaping under the door. The captain remembered, to his delight, that Beckman was certainly awake. It had been his turn for night duty — as a precaution, at least one senior officer (or the captain himself) would be awake at all times in case a problem arose.

As predicted, his first mate was in the office. The man had been reviewing a stack of documents with his reading glasses so low on his nose that they were one rough wave from falling off. Per usual, Beck was sat at the tiny desk on the edge of the room, which was littered with papers. Shanks never understood why he did that. His refusal to use what was technically the captain’s desk, which, by all accounts, was the better option, with more surface area and a chair that was far more comfortable.

Beckman didn’t seem at all surprised to see Shanks at such an unusually early hour. It was almost as if he had expected it, and he truly might've — the man's ability to know things could be frightening at times.

“Whatcha got there?” Shanks asked while entering the room with the intent to pester the poor man. Beck ruffled through the several piles of papers as he responded. “Got some of what you’re looking for,” his voice was gruff from the hours of disuse. Unfortunately for Shanks, talking to Benn Beckman always ran the risk of turning into business. Nevertheless, Shanks shifted into captain mode as if a switch had been flipped. The emperor sat down at the larger desk and nodded for the man to continue.

“I asked ‘round a bit and overnight got some responses back. ’S not too much more than what we already knew, but there’s a couple things you might find interesting.” Beck continued to sift through the documents as he talked. For all the things Benn Beckman was good at, personal organization was not one of them. It hadn’t helped the man that he’d been searching for multiple pages.

Finally, the gray-haired man collected everything he’d been looking for. He approached the desk Shanks was at, setting a page down in front of the man. It was a copy of your missing poster. Something that had been issued well over a decade ago. Shanks had no idea how Beckman had gotten his hands on it so fast while they were out on the open ocean, but he had long stopped asking questions. The man could just work wonders; his methods hadn’t really mattered.

“She was a princess, went missing, then managed to piss off the World Government,” he laid down a second poster next to the first. They were nearly identical, but had vastly different messages. Both were signs looking for you, but while one said “missing,” the other had “wanted” in bold letters. The same image was in the center of them, some sort of royal portraiture. The issue was it looked nothing like you — and not in the “you’ve aged” sort of way. It bared virtually no resemblance to you. Shanks had to examine it closer to be certain it was even you in the photo. That explained how you had been able to slip through the cracks for so long.

“Well, no shit, they never found her,” Shanks commented, putting down the flyer. “Did they not have another picture? Why’d they use that one?” Beckman, ever prepared, had another poster at the ready. “Couldn’t tell ya. It’s probably why they updated it.” The new poster was slid over to the captain.

“See, this makes sense for a bounty poster,” Shanks said, barely looking at it. He’d only caught a glimpse of a large fire behind you before making his point. Returning his attention to the image, a small frown carved itself onto his face. You looked so small. And sickly, you were pale and had deep bags under your eyes. But above all else, you looked terrified.

The picture as a whole was you running away from a burning building looking over your shoulder. The flames had been so intense that it was impossible to distinguish anything of note about the structure behind you other than it was large and on fire. Against his wishes, the yonko’s eyes kept slipping back to the panicked look on your face. He’d had enough. Shanks flipped the flyer upside-down and held it firmly against the table as if it would turn itself over to haunt him.

“What else?” The captain asked, firmly redirecting his gaze to his first mate.

“Specifics remain unclear, seems even the marine didn’t have it together,” Beck plucked out another page and handed it over. “Got an ex marine find send the internal report.” Shanks took a moment to scan the report, which was short and had very little information — surprising considering how much of a threat you had been deemed with such a high price on your head. All it boiled down to was an attack on a warehouse crucial for operations, nothing on the casualties, only a note on the worth of the damaged goods.

The remaining stack of papers in Beck’s hand were placed down in front of Shanks. “Same guy sent in a detailed personal account. Claiming the report was almost entirely fabricated.” Oh… that stack was one thing. If even Beckman found it to be too detailed, then Shanks was really in for a treat. He paged through the account — it was fucking double-sided.

“This is…through,” the redhead said. Beck let out a deep laugh. Both men knew that had been an understatement. Every minuscule thing the person could recall had been included, including irrelevant information like burning their tongue on the morning’s coffee. Shanks set it down, making note to come back to it later. It was far too early for him to be reading all of that.

“So… the internal report was bullshit, but that’s all we got? Other than this picture at the scene?” Shanks asked, holding up your new bounty poster away from him. “Pretty much.” “Damn,” the captain muttered under his breath.

“I’ll keep looking Cap’t. ’S been less than a day, more’s gonna come in,” Beckman paused to look the red-head in the eyes. “But if you’re really interested, it might be better to get it from the source.”

He should talk to you.

“Good idea,” Shanks stood up and left without so much as a goodbye — a behavior that didn’t phase his second in command at all.

~~~~~~~

You woke up in the same sterile environment that you had fled the night before. This definitely was not where you’d fallen asleep. Someone must’ve found you and brought you back to this dumb room, and you had a sneaking suspicion of who’d been the one to do it. If the familiar coat covering your body was any indication, it seemed that you were on the right track. At least the comforting, familiar scent undercut the harsh smell of sterilization.

Hold on. Comforting? It rubbed you the wrong way that you found his scent comforting, but there was no other way to put it. You sighed and decided to worry about that later.

With a groan, you sat up in bed. Aches echoed through your body at the action. Your first priority was to get the hell out of the godforsaken room as soon as possible. Being confined to “bedrest” or whatever it was felt too much like being trapped. And you were not going to be in that position ever again, even if it went against “doctor’s orders.”

Before you could leave, Hongo walked in and halted your progress. You froze like a kid who’d been caught sneaking out (your situation was not that much different) and offered him a sheepish smile. He shut the door behind him, looking disappointed but not surprised.

“Sit down. Let’s change your bandages,” he said. Reluctantly, you listened, knowing full well that it was what was best for you. Sat on the edge of the bed, you watched the doctor move around as he gathered his supplies.

“Why am I here? Who brought me?” You asked, wanting confirmation. Hongo exhaled and looked you dead in the eyes. “Who’d ya think? You know who.” He was right, you already knew exactly who had done it. The first time the man hadn’t listened to you with something, and you were pissed. “That fucking man,” you muttered. Deep down, you knew it was unfair to be as upset as you were, but that didn’t stop you.

“He did it with your best interests in mind,” Hongo said, coming to the defense of his captain. “It’s not good for you to be out in the cold, sleeping on the deck like that.” You snorted. “Neither are bullets.” The corners of the doctor’s mouth upticked at your retort while he brought what he needed over to you.

“‘M just saying he’s only tryna to look out for you.” Hongo clarified. “Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed him while raising whoever’s shirt you were wearing to take it off, ignoring the buttons.

As if on cue, Shanks came walking through the door following a weak knock. “Get out,” you told him flatly as you let the shirt — his shirt he quickly recognized — fall back to your body. “Yes, Ma’am,” the emperor said, understanding the situation he had just walked in on. “I’ll be outside.”

“Wait,” you said, stopping Shanks. “Take your coat,” you said, tossing the garment at him. “And, uh — thanks.” Although you felt awkward, the gesture was appreciated. “Anything for you, Doll,” Shanks winked before finally exiting the room. You rolled your eyes at the remark, desperately trying to control the heat that rose to your cheeks. 

“I’ll get you out of here soon as I can,” Hongo promised. In silence, he assessed the injury for any signs of infection as he redressed the area. Only once he had finished did he speak. “I doubt you’ll be coming back here without a fight or listen to me when I tell ya to take it easy. So, stop by twice a day to get the bandages changed, yeah?”

Grateful he hadn’t tried to push or guilt-trip you into anything, you agreed — on a caveat. “You have to be the one to do it. Nobody else.” It was bad enough that Hongo knew about the brand on your back; you didn’t want to risk anyone else finding out. “I know,” the doctor said with a tight-lipped, sympathetic smile.

With nothing more to say, you eagerly left the damn hospital room — only to nearly run into Shanks on the way out. You had forgotten he’d been there. He held himself differently than he had minutes before; you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him serious. “What’d ya need?” You cut to the chase, hoping to make it quick. “We gotta talk.” 

You shifted your weight uncomfortably. That could mean many things, and right now, none of them sounded good. “’S nothing too bad,” Shanks offered with a reassuring smile. “I know you can understand now that you’re gonna be staying with us, I got a few questions.”

A part of you wanted to clarify that you weren’t staying for long, only until the next island, but you held your tongue. He was right. He’d been so helpful to you already, with no benefit to him. You felt like you owed the man some answers at the very least. “I understand.”

“‘M glad. Now, let’s go talk somewhere else,” the captain said, and you followed his lead.

~~~~~~~

Shanks brought you to what was clearly an office. He offered you a seat, and you tried to hide how eager you were to take it. You would never say it, but the walk had hurt like hell and sitting had sounded like heaven. Sensing another presence in the room you went on high alert.

“Beck’s gonna join us,” Shanks informed you. You sucked in your lips, unsure how to feel about that. You weren’t dumb, you knew the conversation that was coming. While you trusted both men, almost innately, sharing anything about the period of your life in question was something you were highly cautious of. 

The two times you had confided in someone about it had both ended very, very badly. The first time, in your early twenties, you’d lost who you’d thought would be the love of your life. Only in hindsight could you see the foolishness in such a dream. The second time had nearly killed you, and you had the scars to prove it.

“I’m gonna be real honest with you, Y/N,” Shanks started, noticing your unease. “He’s gonna find out either way. Might as well cut out the middle man,” he said while he sat across from you maintaining eye contact. “But, if you would like him to leave, he can go.”

You looked over at the man in question, who nodded, reaffirming the offer to leave. You sighed. “’S fine, just wasn’t expecting an audience,” you tried to joke, but it had come out stiff — in fact, everything about you was stiff. It looked like you were one wrong step away from entering flight or fight mode.

Your subconscious had already begun building up walls, your brain fortifying itself in preparation for a deep dive into the most traumatic period of your life. You had never fully dealt with the experience, and if you had it your way, you never would either.

Crescent shapes began to form on your palms from how hard you clinched your fists, and your jaw was clenched so tight your teeth could shatter. Focusing on your breathing, you shut your eyes; you weren’t going to let yourself fall apart before you had even begun. Reopening your eyes, you nodded as a sign to start, as ready as you would ever be.

“Where’d ya learn to fight like that?” Shanks asked. It was an entry-level, merely testing the waters ��� you were aware of that, but you were grateful for the soft ball, even if it hadn’t helped ease your nerves.

“My father.” Your short response was met with a prolonged silence. Both men were seeing if you would elaborate if given the space to do so. It took a few moments for you to cave, when you saw how you could stall for time. Clearing your throat you continued.

“He was hell-bent on us, me and my siblings, being warriors that never saw war. The man had us training in damn near every type of combat you can think of.” Your hands unclenched, resting on the arms of the chair. When you reminded yourself where this was all heading, your shoulders tensed back up and any sign of progress vanished. “To get where you’re going, I got cocky. I thought I was untouchable, really. I also had a habit of sneaking out to go drinking. I didn’t quite understand my limits, and that’s what bit me in the ass. I was so far gone I couldn’t do anything when they, uh… took me…” Your words dwindled out. You couldn’t keep going.

Shanks was recognizing that this might not get them anywhere — if you were unable to talk about the basics of the situation then there was no way you’d be able to answer actual questions. The yonko filed the little nugget of information you had shared away for later, for now, he needed to make sure you were relaxed. Luckily, he was good at that.

“Tell me about your family.” Admittedly, the inquiry had come with ulterior motives. You’d been the most relaxed when you mentioned your family, which made it a good place to embark from. There was the added benefit that Shanks was actually interested in your answer. After yesterday, he had realized he really didn’t know much about you.

You opened and closed your mouth. That surprised you. Instead of asking about the kidnapping or what had taken place the night you earned a bounty, he wanted to know about your family. That didn’t make sense. But you had to admit, you missed talking about your family. You had been really close, but due to your situation, you hadn’t been able to talk too much about them for years. 

With hesitation, you answered with only the basics: the only daughter in a family full of sons, the third child out of five, even an honorable mention of the family dog. It took a while for you to give answers longer than what would answer exactly what was asked, but you got there when asked about how your training worked.

“Soon as I was old enough to join the military training, my older brothers were so much better than me. They’d been at it for a couple of years, and I was only — I think nine— but they wouldn’t go easy on me. It made me so mad. I hated losing. I tried so hard to catch up, spending all my time and energy training, but I could not compete. I was so frustrated, so my dad told me to pick one thing and focus on it. From a young age, like too young, like toddler, I had an interest in blades — the stories I’ve been told about my founder self, ’s a surprise I got all my fingers and toes.” You shook your head with a genuine smile. You had been a real handful as a kid.

“Anyways, cause of that I picked sword fighting, it was my dad’s favorite too and he was excited. He’d give me one on one lessons in the dead of night— to hide it from my mom mainly, there’s a whole story about that — Those lessons were so fun.  I was such a daddy’s girl growing up. With his help it took less than a year to defeat both of my older brothers.

“My oldest brother, [NAME], was so mad when I won. I thought I was a sore loser. But imagine being a teenager, damn near an adult really, next in line for the throne, and you get your ass beat by your little sister who still had her baby teeth. Repeatedly. Poor guy. Least when I left he gotta be on top again.” The hint of dark humor didn’t really land with anyone lol.

After you had mentioned the line of succession, it hit you that your brother was not the king — your father had died unexpectedly less than a year ago. In a sense, he had long been dead to you, along with everyone else you had known back then. Trying to see or even contact them would never be safe, for either of you. If they could only ever be memories to you, how far off was that from death?

Your face fell, and your hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt. It felt like you had shared too much. On one hand, it was nice to talk about your family again; sharing memories was what kept them alive, but on the other was your long, lingering sense of apprehension when it came to discussing your past on any level.

Letting your eyes scan the room for something to distract you, you spotted your old missing poster. Now that was something you hadn’t seen in years. Reaching over and grabbing the image, you looked at it closer. You still remembered the day it had been taken. You’d been so resistant to the entire process, but if you could go back, you would’ve complied. The entire day, your mom had spent fussing over you. If you had known it would be one of the last times you’d ever get to spend with her, you would’ve acted differently. However, the regret attached to the memory didn’t change how you hated the portrait. “I fucking hate this picture,” you said, flipping the image over to display it. “I look awful, like I lost a look-alike contest of myself.” That comment won you a little smile from Shanks, who had been awfully inexpressive for most of the conversation, well inexpressive for him.

“You see the new one?” Beckman asked from the side. He’d been so quiet you had nearly forgotten he was there. “There’s a new one?” Beck dug back out your recently reissued bounty poster from the pile of papers on the desk and handed it to you.

Your blood ran cold, and a wave of nausea hit you. The hand that held the paper fell into your lap, and you were stuck staring at the image.

“I don’t remember most of that night,” you admitted, not speaking to anyone in particular. Your voice was so incredibly weak it barely qualified as a whisper, but it was understood. “Or most of what happened after I was taken.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them from starting. “It’s all so cloudy. They kept me so drugged up for so long, I’m pretty sure I went through withdrawal after I escaped.”

Shanks’ gaze hardened and his nostrils flared out, but you didn’t see it. He wasn’t naive; when you had revealed that you had been kidnapped he knew nothing good occurred during that time, but knowing specifics made him feel murderous.

“That fucking man.” You remembered the devil fruit user who could put you under with just a touch. The worst was when he would incapacitate you but leave you in a state of relative consciousness. Your kidnappers had found some sick and twisted satisfaction in toying with you, trying to pull the fight from your soul. They never laid their hands on you — bar one incident where you were slapped — but that hadn’t stopped them from treating you like a stray dog. “I could’ve escaped if it wasn’t for him — I almost did too.” 

Memories from your time in captivity had started to come back to you in sharp fragments. Specific incidents that you would rather not think about tried to resurface, and you did everything in your power to not let them.

A tear drop fell onto your hand — you hadn't been aware you'd been crying. Unconsciously, you crumpled up the paper in your hands as you wiped away your tears. It had been years since you had thought in depth about it, even longer since you had cried about it. Pretending that it had never happened was a hell of a lot easier than accepting that it had. You probably would have chosen to live the rest of your life in denial if it hadn't been forced back into your mind. 

“Fuck,” you whispered harshly. Looking to the side, you tried to blink the tears away. You hated crying, but you preferred it to the all-encompassing dread you sometimes got. Both outcomes sucked, and showing it around others was worse. After a moment you had managed to collect your breathing. 

Unfortunately, emotions do not just disappear. Once the waterworks had stopped, a newfound rage blossomed inside you. You had to make them pay. You would make them pay. There had been so many times you had fantasized about getting your revenge, but you had always backed out in fear of the price. However, now, you had nothing left to lose. 

The thirst for blood you had suddenly exhibited unfazed the pirates. They both had blood on their hands. Violence was a fact of life with the way they lived it, and they couldn’t blame you for wanting to get your revenge. Shit, Shanks would probably drop everything and help you if you asked, but that wasn’t in your nature.

As quickly as the fire within you had been ignited, it was extinguished. It was scary how fast you reverted into your old form, or rather a significantly more guarded version of yourself.

You cracked a smile, one that was almost believable. “Anything else I can do for you, gentleman?” You hoped it was over, all you wanted was to be done talking and go back to a state of normalcy. Beckman opened his mouth to speak, a question clearly on his mind, but Shanks cut him off. “Think we’re good for now.” He did not want you to push yourself more than you needed to, and if you truly didn’t remember much, like you had said, your answers wouldn’t fill in the gaps.

“Alright.” You stood up, hoping that the old of pain you felt in your abdomen didn’t show on your face. “You know where to find me,” you paused — you wouldn’t know where to find you. No fucking way would you be heading back to the infirmary and the only other place you knew on the ship was the damned captain’s quarters, which was another no go.

“Actually, we got a room cleared out for you if you want,” Beck informed you. “Why don’t you go show her, Captain?” He grinned at the man. Shanks wasn’t about to object but, but he raised an eyebrow, curious of his first mate’s motive. “I’m still on duty or else I would do it. I trust you know can handle him.” The last part was directed towards you.

“Boy do I,” the double entendre slipped out before you could stop it. Immediately when you realized what you’d said you grew flustered. It was the first time you didn’t stand behind something suggestive, at least around Shanks. But if playing that way was gonna take your mind off of things, he was game. “That still on the table, Love?” The red haired man cheekily asked while he held the door for you. “No,” you said too fast. “Alright,” Shanks drew the response out as if he didn’t believe you, but you didn’t even believe yourself — not that you’d admit that.

“Thank you Beckman, see you later,” you said, ignoring the captain. With that you walked down the hallway like you knew where you were going. From behind you, you heard your sentiment being echoed in a mocking tone and the faint laugh it got from Beck and rolled your eyes.

“Hate to break it to you, Doll, but you’re going the wrong way,” Shanks called out to you with humor in his voice. “I’m taking the scenic route.” The man caught up to you, falling into stride. “Ahh, is that what this is? Gonna be a little bit difficult ‘cause this is a dead end.”

As you turned the corner, you saw the end he’d been referring to. You bit your lips to hold back a smile; you didn’t have to look at him to know his expression. 

Stopping in your tracks, you turned to the man, trying to stay as serious as possible. “Have you considered renovation?” He grinned at the question. “Wanna head that up?” You laughed at his offer. “That’ll take far longer than to the next port. I fear you’ll get sick of me,” you said playfully, as if the thought cut you deeply. “I don’t envision that happening,” Shanks countered honestly.

This was what felt comfortable. In such an unfamiliar setting in an uncertain time, stupid banter felt like a lifeline. The conversation continued as you kept walking (this time with Shanks leading the way). You started to recognize where you were — and it wasn’t near the medical bay. “Luckily for you, my room is right down the hall. In case you need anything.” Although it had started that way, his statement didn’t end as an innuendo — he had meant it.

“And, Doll? I wanna ask,” Shanks said, turning serious again as he looked you in the eyes. “Are you alright?” You did not know how to answer that. You had been shot, had your life turned upside down, were actively being hunted down, and were a hair away from a breakdown. In short, you were not alright. But that wasn’t for him to know.

“I’m fine, Shanks. Thanks for asking.” Your tight-lipped smile proved the opposite, and the emperor had seen the debate going on behind your eyes, but he wasn’t going to press you on it. He couldn’t force you to talk, and he didn’t want to.

Before you could excuse yourself to go sit alone in the dark with your thoughts, a bell rang. You looked around, checking for the source. The captain of the ship was unbothered by the noise; instead, he smiled your way. “You hungry, Darlin’?”

~~~~~~~

Late that night, Shanks was happy to finally be on his way to bed. He hadn’t been sleeping well for the past several nights, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him.

The extensive amount of paperwork he had done had left his eyes stinging. Shanks never would have thought that being a pirate involved so much paperwork, but it came with the territory, quite literally.

Bleary-eyed, he walked past your door only to hear a scream from inside. Suddenly, the emperor was much more awake. His protective instincts kicked into overdrive, and he burst through your door with his hand on his sword. There was no one in the room but you. Of course there was no one but you. The fact that he had thought there might’ve been an intruder or something was ridiculous — it would be damn near impossible for that to have happened with no one noticing. Knowing it was only you in the room calmed his nerves. His hand left the hilt of his sword as he relaxed.

In hopes of finding out what had happened, Shanks shifted his focus onto you, and his stomach dropped. Oh no. You were vigorously wiping tears from your eyes, and your knees were curled into your chest. “What happened?” Shanks asked in a soft, but noticeably tired voice. “Nothing,” you sniffled. “It was just a nightmare, nothing you need to worry about.” You tried to offer him a smile, but it was far from convincing. Still, you hoped he would accept the answer and leave. You didn’t want him (or anyone else for that matter) to see you in this state, especially when he’d already witnessed you cry earlier that day. You were not weak and refused to be seen as such. This was something you could handle on your own.

The man nodded, but hung around the doorframe as if he were weighing his options. “You know where to find me if you need.” It hadn’t been explicit, but you understood what he’d meant — it was an open invitation for you to talk to him. “I appreciate it, but that won’t be necessary.” He should have known that you would decline his offer. “Something to keep in mind.” “I will,” your fake smile made a reappearance. It was obvious you were lying through your teeth. 

“Goodnight,” Shanks said. He was slightly hesitant to leave, but there was nothing more he could do. Besides, he was exhausted, but a lingering sense of unease kept him at the edge of consciousness. He had meant what he’d said.

~~~~~~~

Everything was fuzzy when you came to. You were greeted by a red hot iron and a sadistic smile. An overwhelming panic rose in your gut. Restrained and unable to escape you screamed. To your horror people dropped, their bodies set ablaze. A wall of prison cells materialized through the flames. There were people inside, screaming for your help, but you were completely frozen. You caught a glimpse of your hands — they were covered in blood. Blood continued to pool in your palms until it was spilling out of your grasp and —

You awoke with a start. The previous nightmare along with the conversation that morning must’ve opened the floodgates. Memories you had managed to suppress for the most part had started to resurface as mangled versions of themselves. In truth, you should have been expecting this. Every time you had been reminded of your past, the ghosts of all those awful moments would gather around to haunt you in the form of vicious nightmares. They would lurk until your all consuming guilt was satiated for the time being.

Mistakenly, you had thought you were in the clear. The night before and your sleep during the day had both been dreamless so you had hoped that, for once, you would be spared. It had been naive of you to think. Your body’s desperate need for rest (along with whatever pain killers Hongo had given you) had probably been the reason for the deep and dreamless sleep.

Like the last one, tears streamed down your face as you were confronted with what you had done. Unimaginable survivor’s guilt gnawed at your insides. Everything was too much. You clamped a hand over your mouth to dampen the sobs that escaped while your shoulders shook violently. You couldn’t remember the last time it had been this bad.

When several minutes had passed and you were still unable to calm yourself, you remembered Shanks’s earlier offer. It sounded tempting. In this state, your pride was quickly being turned into dust.

You hated to admit it, but you couldn’t be alone right now. Asking for help was such a foreign concept to you. From the beginning, you had been undefended, but once you had been forced to go on the run, self-sufficiency became absolutely crucial. It was embarrassing to turn to others. 

It’s just Shanks, you reasoned to yourself. He’d already seen you fall apart, so might as well double down on it. What he thought about you didn’t really matter; come the next island in however long, he would drop you off and you would never see each other again. That thought stung a little bit, but the reassurance pushed you to leave your room.

A moment later, you found yourself at his door. You knocked lightly, unsure if you truly wanted him to hear you. If he answered, you prayed that the cover of darkness would conceal your undoubtedly tearstained face and hide the way you couldn’t control your shaking. Just when you were about to turn back and suffer through the rest of it on your own, the door opened.

You had absolutely woken him up. Voice thick with sleep and eyes half-closed, Shanks greeted you, stepping aside to let you in and shutting the door behind you. The last time you had been in his private quarters had been under much more favorable circumstances. That night, only two prior, flashed briefly in your mind before it was drowned out by the horrible images that had been keeping you up.

“Sorry for waking you.” Your voice was scratchy from all the crying. “I couldn’t be alone.” You’d taken care that he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to get a proper look at your face — as if that was the only tell of how fucked up you were. “’S ‘kay,” he mumbled, taking turns to rub his eyes.

Instead of going to bed or standing in the middle of the room, like he had expected, you moved to the desk in the far corner of the room. As if you couldn’t get far enough away. You practically collapsed onto the chair once you met it.

“Give me a couple of minutes and I can be out of your hair.” You tried so hard to sound steady. You hated that you even needed to be there and hoped that setting a time limit would make it easier somehow. If you had been of a clearer mind, you also would have thought to do something similar, to avoid bothering the man too much. You were sure that your being aboard the ship was enough of an inconvenience, you didn’t need to make it worse by disturbing the captain’s sleep.

Shanks took a few steps forward to get a better look at you. You were so much more shaken up than you had been. Despite the weak lighting, the puffiness around your eyes was glaringly obvious. Being backlit showcased your quivering silhouette. This was worse than he’d imagined.

Running his hand through his hair, Shanks sighed. “Go lie down.” He left little room for argument, but that didn’t mean you didn’t try. “You go lie down.” Even actively distraught, you maintained your stubbornness. He almost found it charming. Almost. 

“‘M not the one who was shot,” he countered.

“What’re you doing?” You questioned when he tossed a pillow to the floor. No way in hell. “Shanks,” you said firmly, capturing his attention. “I’m not gonna kick you out of your own bed.” You couldn’t believe he’d do something so ridiculous; you weren’t that selfish.

“Okay, fine. We’ll share,” the man compromised, picking up the pillow and flopping onto the mattress. He scooted to the wall, giving you plenty of space to join him, but you didn’t move a muscle.

“Come on. You know I don’t bite… not without permission.” His cheeky smile was laced with sleepiness. It was adorable, and that was annoying. It was odd, how being around him took the edge off, but that wasn’t something you were going to explore at the moment.

Fully aware that Shanks would continue to pester you, you caved. You climbed onto the bed but stuck close to the edge of the mattress. With his eyes already closed, Shanks sighed. “You’re gonna fall off all the way over there.” He waited for you to heed his warning, but, of course, you never did. “’S gonna hurt like hell if you fall off and land on your side.” That managed to get through your head and with a huff you complied.

Lying still as stone next to him, you damn near glared at the ceiling. The panic was doing its best to resurface, but you wouldn’t let it. Your inner turmoil worked to maintain all the tension in your body. “Wanna talk about it?” Shanks offered, breaking the silence after a few minutes. He’d known you hadn’t so much as closed your eyes. “No,” you said simply, but somehow the offer itself helped ease your mind. “Alright.” After the short exchange and with the understanding you didn’t need him awake, the man next to you practically passed out.

The warmth of his body was something you found comfort in. His light, rhythmic snores gave you something concrete to concentrate on. With time, you felt yourself coming down from the verge of a panic attack. 

Feeling like you had calmed down to a reasonable level, you decided it was time to go. But when you made a move to leave, an arm draped over your torso, landing in an unnatural position to avoid the bullet wound in your abdomen. Somehow, despite barely being awake, Shanks had managed to not only sense you leaving but be mindful of your injury. You didn’t like the way it made your heart skip a beat.

“Stay,” he mumbled, not opening his eyes. After a second of thought, you decided to follow his suggestion, and eventually, you slipped off into sleep.

~~~~~~~

A while later, Shanks was pulled back to consciousness by something. He didn’t know the time, but the moon seemed to be high judging from the beams shining through the small window. A light whimper to his left caught his attention. It’d come from you.

Your face was contorted into a grimace, the rise and fall of your chest irregular. Another nightmare, no doubt. Under your breath, you started mumbling words that sounded like pleas. Without really thinking about it, and still half-asleep, Shanks stroked your hair, trying to comfort you. 

“No, don’t,” your words clarified slightly, awakening the man to your side further. He blinked away some of his lethargy and focused his gaze on you. Your brow had furrowed more since the last time he checked. The sight prompted him to caress your face, soothing out the harsh lines. It seemed to work for a moment, but it didn’t last. Tears started to sneak past your lash line. Shanks hadn’t realized he’d been wiping them away until he felt you stir and he was far too tired to read into why he’d thought to in the first place.

“Stop!” Even unconscious, an aura of power radiated around you.

Panting, you jolted upright. You curled your knees close to your chest, mimicking the fetal position. Your hands went to your head and wove themselves into your hair before you tugged on the strands. Gently, Shanks called out your name as he sat up with you, but you didn’t hear him. No noise made its way through the panic. You couldn’t calm down. You clung to yourself, closing yourself off. Your nails dug into the flesh of your arms and you held yourself tightly, the stinging barely teetering you to reality. The thought of where you were didn’t even cross your mind until the tears slowed drastically.

Shanks hated seeing you like this. What was worse was knowing there wasn’t really anything he could do. He couldn’t join in on the battle in your mind or pull you out of it; all he could do was be there. Shanks pulled you into him and brought you both back down onto the mattress. Instinctively, you settled into the man. While you weren’t by any means better, you had stopped trembling and your hyperventilation had scaled back to ragged breaths — it wasn’t a lot, but it was something, and Shanks would take something.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing back to create some space. Craning your head up to look the yonko in the eyes to find that he already had his trained on you. His eyes were filled with concern, but that worry was entirely lost on you in your state.

“I did it —“ you started, interrupted by a sob you couldn’t hold back. Shanks, of course, had no idea what you were talking about. He had his suspicions, but they meant nothing in the moment. Your troubles being unknown to him didn’t change how you were struggling. Whatever you had been confessing to, whatever you had done, or thought you’d done, was crushing you. “—I-I— F-fuck.” You couldn’t get a word out.

The dam officially broke, the tears you had tried so hard to hold back forced their way out. Your hands clutched tightly onto the fabric of Shanks’s shirt as you pressed your forehead into his chest. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t fucking breathe. It had never been this bad before, but you were too far gone to think of what could have changed.

Bringing you closer, Shanks rubbed your back as you cried. For your sake, he tried to suppress the anger he felt, but it had tripped since this morning and was still growing. Someone had done this to you. You had gone through something that left you deeply traumatized — if you weren’t currently falling apart in front of him, the yonko would search the ends of the earth to find the people who’d hurt you… as he would for anyone else on his crew (lie)… even if you weren’t on it yet.

“I killed them.” That information hadn’t surprised the man; you had hinted at as much before. Your body went right as you forced yourself to continue. You stared and spoke directly into Shanks’s chest, muffling your already hard-to-decipher words. “I…hear the screams. I couldn’t do anything. I tried to help them, I really did… couldn’t find the keys. The fire grew too fast.” A string of sobs, more violent than the last, cut you off. Shanks tightened his grip on you.

“I can still smell it,” you sniffled with more composure, but it was obvious you were hanging on by a thread. “I can feel the heat.” Your voice was still unsteady, but your words were more defined. “I feel the heat. I-I told him to stop and he did — but he dropped it. And the fire,” you pulled back from the security of his chest to look at Shanks. Your eyes were dangerously glassy. “They begged me for help and I let them die.”

There was no other way to describe it — you looked broken. He watched you try to continue talking only to devolve into weeping. You didn’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about what was happening, so, for the time being, you’d let Shanks hold you as you cried.

Whispering words of comfort, Shanks intermediately placed kisses on the top of your head as you continued to cling to him. He felt his shirt grow damp from your tears, but that was the least of his concerns. He couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for your distress, like if he hadn’t asked questions, you wouldn’t’ve been hurt. He had seen the way you’d reacted to light questioning. You had probably been struggling like this all day, the thought made his heart clench.

He listened to you as your breathing gradually grew soft and steady, eventually evening out. Shanks sighed when you finally fell asleep. Luckily, you slept through the rest of the night, but he couldn’t say the same. As tired as he was, sleep never came to the man. He held you throughout the night, the image of you breaking down burned into his memory.

A new day would bring a fresh start but this ran deeper than that. 

a/n: should we (royal) be worried how easy writing the panic attacks came to me? should i talk to my therapist or something lol

good news!!! the next one is going to be even more fun (actual fun) and this time we actually have a plan (and over 10k written for it so far so 💀)

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it 💕

more from me

[arwamachine]

⚠️spoiler for most recent chapter⚠️

You are killing me slowly. I am clinging to my shock blankets, the NAWA tag, and my sanity whilst reading your story. I both hate this story and love it for making me feel.

Quick question: can Rosie not leave to get help? I know it’s in-character for her to stay and fight, but getting help might save them quicker. What was your idea behind this choice?

Anyway, many hugs, and toodles!

🚨⚠️Indefinite Lines spoilers below the cut⚠️🚨

Rosie as a character was definitely a factor here. Rosie's number one priority right now is to save John and Sherlock IMMEDIATELY, and her urgency is such that she literally has to be talked out of just rushing into the room to save them with no plan or weapon (and probably getting everyone killed in the process). Leaving the flat to find her way out of an abandoned building to maaaaaaybe find someone on the street (?) to call the police and THEN wait for the police to arrive is far too long of a process. It would also constitute leaving someone behind, and nothing in Rosie's DNA or upbringing would have her do that! TBH I'm not sure it even crossed her mind!

There are, of course, plot-related reasons for this decision because I know what the climax of this fic is and I need characters to do things that get us there. "And then the cops came" is an incredibly boring climax, imo! BUT I know I need to be sure that all the decisions characters make are logical given the situation and who they are as people. I view the decision to stay and try to rescue John and Sherlock herself as very in-character for Rosie...she has spent the entirety of this fic NOT getting help even when it is clearly needed, and her arc isn't really related to learning this lesson (but staying behind WILL allow her some experiences that are more directly related to her arc) ;)

[orphicpoieses]

hi Mimi!! You asked to play the ask game so here I am with questions :D

🤌🏼 what feels does it hit?

✨ random spoiler?

🥸 tag yourself, which WIP character are you?

🚨 any trigger warnings?

have a good day/night!!

(@ink-fireplace-coffee)

Yay! ✨

Thanks for the ask, @ink-fireplace-coffee 💕

🤌🏼 what feels does it hit?

I love that question! Wings of Fate is definitely on the despair side. Despair, sadness, hope and love. Chaos. Yes. These are the words I would describe it with.

It goes straight to heart...and then destroys it.

✨ random spoiler?

A twisted prophecy.

🥸 tag yourself, which WIP character are you?

Hm... I would love to answer that I am Asra, who simply doesn't give a fuck xD But I'm more a Raphael. Calm, humorous, believes in good and cares way too much xD

🚨 any trigger warnings?

Death, blood, torture, graphic description of violence, drug abuse, underage alcohol drinking, murder, explicit scenes and possibly anything to make it be rated 18+ by Netflix xD

[verocitea]

I posted 2,082 times in 2021

114 posts created (5%)

1968 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 17.3 posts.

I added 1,874 tags in 2021

#☆ queue ☆ - 1595 posts

#i speak occasionally - 70 posts

#idw sonic - 44 posts

#ask - 39 posts

#sonic spoilers - 26 posts

#sonic movie 2 - 25 posts

#my art - 21 posts

#fave - 20 posts

#sonic the hedgehog - 18 posts

#rise of the wisps - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 86 characters

#i can’t promise i’ll do all of them but i’ve been wanting to do this again for a while

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

All I have are doodles.

Only doodles.

873 notes • Posted 2021-02-28 21:20:33 GMT

#4

Animal Crossing: *has a huge update with loads of new content*

Me: ... I’m gonna draw two funky lil’ guys in the sand

1349 notes • Posted 2021-11-04 20:29:55 GMT

#3

For an art request: If it's not too much trouble, maybe you could draw Sonic holding Tails' hand when Tails was really little

Brothers!!!! ⭐️💙⭐️

1369 notes • Posted 2021-08-06 17:45:46 GMT

#2

Can you draw Team Dark?

💥🚨 Stealth - Omega’s greatest weakness. 🚨💥

1832 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 00:01:48 GMT

#1

Can’t stop thinkin’ about them…. 💙💛❤️

4715 notes • Posted 2021-12-11 02:58:56 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[eviltiddyprodnz]

The way I've been tagging whatever I wrote wrong lmao. It's season 12.

I'm skimming through the boring parts so I'll just write whatever I find amusing.

- Could this ghost lady not hide??? Like she's holding a gun as Rudra tries to open the lock. Like just hide? It's a dusty room with covers everywhere. What was her game plan? Shoot someone as the door opens 💀 How'd she escape then?

- I love how Gauri beat the shit out of fake man ghosts in Bareilly and Om beat the shit out of fake man ghosts in Mumbai-Lonawala road territory. #OTP4LYF #babeswhobeatghoststogetherstaytogether

- Omkara has the same reactions to finding out Gauri is the planmaker as he has to Rudy. 😭 Hey her plans work 4.5/5 times !

- Agent Gauri #yuh

- Violent Gauri favourite Gauri

- Um isn't that lady ghost too calm? She's like me like she just gave up under the blanket 😭 they put her in the chair and she's like I guess I'm sitting. 0 reluctance. 0 fighting back. And yet she was the one with the gun.....

- Gauri holding her down. Strongest bitch in the house.

- Omkara slapping Rudra in a light sibling manner is my favourite thing to laugh at. 😭

Carnival time 🤡🎉🎊 S12E12

- Rikara scenes make any episode worthwhile. Idk whose hair I'm more jealous of atm. Maybe Gauri's because I want my hair to fall like that too !!

'baal khule rakho, zyada sudar lagti ho'

1) the truth 2) he notices her a lot 😏 lmao who wouldn't 3) HER LINE TO HIM IN THE REDUX

carnival ke liye late ho raha hai 💀 babes voh tumhare peeche chal raha hai

MY WOMAN WAS TOO STUNNED TO SPEAK. compliment her more jatadhari

- sasuma Tej is here y'all. yes Pinky fight!!!

- Rikara dancing with the biggest smiles 🥺🥺🥺 wait I think I literally saw Kunal try to remember a step 💀

Tag yourselves I'm Rudra just shimmying around.

- why did the evil waiter look straight into the camera and break the fourth wall??

- YES OM PULL YOUR WIFE BACK. Woah how many times does Om get slightly burnt through this show? Isn't this like the second time this season 💀

- Veer channeling his sasta IT

- thumb rule to follow through life, if you see a clown, run in the opposite direction, always.

how is he kidnapping her so slowly and obviously in broad daylight??? what was the gameplan here

skimming because I've seen all this before but how long were Rikara there for the ointment lmaooo?! yalls bhabi got kidnapped and then unconscious in her own house for like half an hour with a man rambling next to her.

If there's one thing that's always going to be true in the IB mess, it's Svetlana being hot.

Spoiler 🚨

Maybe I watched too fast because he wants Anika but he also let's go of that want super fast in the next few episodes. Then it becomes all about the FAM and the lost rights. also Tia, Svet and Soumya are sisters and he's their half brother how??? considering Roop killed their dad (from what I remember) Maybe I'm remembering wrong wait 😭 I guess they share a dad.

E13

I know we're 12 seasons in and this never changes but I need these people to believe each other in a heartbeat after all the fuckery they've been through. she says she saw fake ghost lady again? It's true!

- Gauri saying chubby ka accident bhi abhi hona tha 😭🙏 lmaooo

- they're gonna make everyone dance again oh no. AAAAH GAURI CUTEST. her lipsyncing to the line about sacrifice. my girl 😭

- yes omkar hug your wife

- how many fake wives/wives does Veer have lmao. how many plot changes does he get by episode 🤔

- shivika morning kisses, Rikara absent😭

- sasuma Tej kinda called out Gauri's name sweetly. In dadi logic, aren't Pinky and Tej takkar waale ishqbaaz. She fights with him, doesn't let him win, keeps an eye out for his nonsense and they scheme evil shit. (Pinky is 7000 times better than him though and that says something but still 💀) the first episode hoodwinked me for a few minutes into thinking he was Shivaay's dad and she was his mom.

- Gauri makes a costly mistake is true and she's too smart to fall for it but plot kab characters ke saath match kara hai jo aaj karega.

- Om side eyeing Tia. (Also again considering how they forgive her again in the future plots, their heat truly is reserved for their partners because, although I love Tia too so who am I to judge them)

-Defend your wife Om! Sad that it's always a set up for something much worse 😭💔

Tia looking in the camera too, what is with y'all making eye contact with me!?!

[imjustwritingg]

🚨Friendly Reminder!!🚨

Tonight is the season finale of Chicago PD and I will be live blogging during the episode!! I’m not spoiler free, but I will try to keep anything too big and crazy that happens under the #chicago pd spoilers tag. I will also be over on Twitter if you wanna scream with me over there.

I am so beyond excited and can’t wait for all of us to freak out together!! 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼