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turtletaubwrites · 11 hours

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Numbers Game ~ Part 23

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4090

Ao3 Link

Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: Party's about to start. Can everybody pull themselves together amidst more untimely confrontations?

Author's Note: Heeyyy, so still hella drama, but not nearly as much trauma this time around. And of course, the smut! There's a new symbol for POV shifting. ⏰ paired with one or more of the boys will be a flashback of their past. I hope you enjoy! (Smutty flashbacks occur during adulthood of all parties involved!)

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

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

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Gods, he’s dull.

He stared at you from across the decadent table, though the candlelight dancing in the crystal glasses was all you wanted to look at.

“I hear you’re quite the mathematician,” the faceless suitor cooed, almost pulling you out of your daze. “That you’re actually working at a bank?”

“Yes, I—“

“What a unique hobby,” he patronized, making you fight not to roll your eyes.

Not worth it. Not even close.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

I love the way he touches me.

You stopped your mind, refusing to go down the dangerous road it was headed. Enjoying every last moment of pretend with them was all you needed. You couldn’t lose yourself in comfort and hope so deep that you forgot it was about to end.

Yet, those long, dangerous fingers were so good at making you forget everything.

Mihawk’s touch could be cruel, vicious, intoxicating. Yet, there was something different about times like these as he helped you get ready for the party. Right now, his fingers felt reverent.

He was a sculptor. An artist who valued beauty, and pleasure above all things. You were both his medium, and his muse. You were the clay, and the marble. His teasing, dancing fingers would call you forth, bringing you out to meet the world.

Bringing you to life.

Stop.

Just need to enjoy it. Enjoy his scent, his touch, his hypnotizing voice.

I’ll take these daydreams with me.

“How’s my little rabbit? Would you like an espresso?”

Huffing a laugh after he caught you in a yawn, you felt yourself slipping. Slipping into grief while you ached to savor every moment you could, but your body wouldn’t let you. Exhaustion was ripping you into useless pieces.

“Do I have enough time for a nap?”

The pity in his eyes turned your stomach.

It’s true. This is my last night.

“Of course, darling. I’ll wake you when it’s time to finish up.”

Gratitude couldn’t leave your lips, even after he wrapped your hair in silk, laying you gently on that massive bed. Even as he left you in the dark.

Yet, gratitude filled you for the sleep that came quickly, instead of leaving you to scream against the pain and rage in your heart.

No dreams.

Thank fuck for no dreams.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Mihawk snuck out of the darkened suite, flashing his golden eyes toward Crocodile’s heavy steps while he shut the door softly.

Scowling at the swordsman, Crocodile tried to shove down the unease that had been building all fucking day. Y/N. Red Hair. Y/N. Mihawk. Y/N. The stupid, fucking party.

And the thought of how Y/N would react to the party favors.

Crocodile chided himself, wishing he’d explained it to her before everything got fucked. Now his sweet girl was gonna see—

“She’s taking a nap.” Mihawk cut off that spiral, his hushed tone relaxing as he moved away from the door. “I’ll help her finish soon, she just needs…”

“Is she alright?”

Mihawk tried not to let the guilt in his gut pour out of him, meeting those silver eyes before nodding toward the middle suite. Noting the tension buzzing through Crocodile’s large body.

“Answer me,” he demanded, fighting to keep his voice down. The ex-warlord wanted to be farther away so he could let this feeling out, but he couldn’t go too far from her. Not when she needed him like this.

“Our numbers girl is not well,” Mihawk reported, sinking into self hatred as the image of her tired eyes haunted him. “Can we do this party without her? Can we let her sleep?”

Crocodile wanted to ride on his anger, but the weakness in the swordsman’s voice made him pause.

He cares for her.

“Let’s let her decide,” he rasped, resisting the urge to run into that room to hold her, to beg at her feet for her to stay. The thought of her staying because she feared his reaction made his bones ache, not sure of anything he could do that wouldn’t hurt her. He slumped onto the edge of the bed, his own exhaustion remarkably heavier than after a brutal fight.

The crack of wood beneath him made him curse, hoping he hadn’t woken his sweet girl.

“Did you just break the bed,” Mihawk choked, fighting a laugh as the terrifying ex-warlord ungracefully pulled himself up from the caved-in mattress, shards of wood scattered across the lovely carpet.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he sighed, nudging a hunk of splintered wood with a freshly shined shoe.

“I’m amazed that our little green couch has survived this long,” Mihawk teased. He walked toward the larger man, almost forgetting for a moment.

“I like that couch,” Crocodile grumbled, still frowning at the destruction he’d caused so casually.

I’m gonna hurt her without even meaning to. I hurt everything.

“I think we all like that couch,” the swordsman purred, resting his hand on Crocodile’s arm. Guilt was almost stuffing itself down while he distracted himself, focusing on the man before him.

“Is that where you and Red Hair were last night? Enjoying our couch while our girl needed us?”

The words came out in a quiet rage, but rage nonetheless. The fact that Crocodile hadn’t already hurt this golden eyed liar was making him dizzy.

She needs us. It’ll hurt her. Can’t hurt her. Won’t hurt her.

A constant mantra to keep himself from violence. Y/N’s gorgeous, frightened eyes were like a muzzle in his mind. The urge to bite wasn’t trained away yet, his body just one small push away from giving in.

Never again.

He still felt sick.

Mihawk removed his hand, a strange laughter struggling to leave his throat. After what he’d done to Y/N, he hadn’t given a thought to how his new lover might be feeling about his old one. It never even crossed his mind.

I haven’t changed at all.

“Shanks—“

“Your close friend,” Crocodile hissed, clenching his fist, trying so fucking hard to navigate anger without violence.

Fuck. Maybe she won’t miss this asshole if I kill him. Maybe.

“Yes, we—“

“You’re gonna leave with them, aren’t you?” His fears rocked through him. The ones he hadn’t let fully take shape in his mind. “You’re gonna take Y/N, and Buggy, and you… you’re all gonna leave the monster behind.”

Crocodile hated every pathetic sound that had just left his lips. He sat down against the wall to avoid breaking more furniture, but it only reminded him of last night. His sweet girl, trusting him with her deepest pain. Trusting him to protect her. Heat filled his throat, and he wanted to spit it out.

“It’s up to her,” Mihawk whispered, not sure what to feel as he watched this mountain of a man clench his eyes shut in pain, not from battle, but from the fear of losing…

Mihawk joined him on the floor, trying not to care about his coat. He leaned his head back against the wall, too tired to resist these new, uncomfortable urges. This new, uncomfortable need to stop hurting everyone. To care. To try.

“I’m sorry I brought him into bed without asking you.”

Crocodile sighed, too caught up to think about how many times Dracule fucking Mihawk had apologized to him the last few days. One time was wild enough, and it seemed to be a lie.

This time…

“Why did you act like he didn’t mean anything to you,” he whispered, letting this conversation take part of his mind away from his worries about her.

Mihawk let out a harsh laugh, covering those pretty eyes with his hands while he stretched and groaned, arching his back toward the ceiling.

Why is all of this so fucking hard?

“I acted like that because I am a liar,” he confessed, waiting for the sting of a hook that didn’t come. “I lied to myself. I was a coward, and a bad person.”

They both gave a tiny smile, surprised to catch that look on the other’s face when the two ex-warlords met eyes.

“Trying not to be a monster is proving to be a more difficult challenge than I had anticipated.”

Truth, painful truth filled the swordsman’s words, and Crocodile didn’t fight his new, uncomfortable need.

His need to care for all of his beautiful, little lovers. To keep them from pain.

“We’re partners, right? How about we help each other with that,” he offered, spreading his arm out wide, hoping Mihawk would join him. Needing it. Needing all of them. “Maybe mean ol’ Crocodile, and his selfish little prince can learn not to be monsters. At least not to everyone.”

“I thought you hated liars,” Mihawk teased, scanning the other man for hints of violence. Trying to process all of those strange words.

“I’m trying out this new thing,” he huffed, shaking his head while he waited for warmth beside him. “Don’t get used to it.”

Mihawk gave a real laugh now, cutting himself off to stay quiet. He scooted over, resting his head against Crocodile’s chest while that terrifying and comforting arm curled around him.

This is nice, they both thought.

“You know, I was still pretty naughty,” Mihawk purred, unable to resist. “You should probably punish me any–”

“Oh, you’ll get what you deserve, little prince,” Crocodile chuckled. He let himself have just this moment to relax. To feel like things were alright. “Daddy’ll take care of ya.”

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

“You can suck my dick after the show, Red Hair.”

Shanks loved Buggy even more for the laugh he’d managed to pull free from his rotten soul.

“Buggy, please,” he begged, shamefully begged. “Do you have any time to talk?”

The clown narrowed his eyes at his old friend, concern creeping around him at the strain in his voice, the tightness in his eyes.

“What’s wrong,” Buggy hissed, pulling him into the private dressing room. A light blush heated all the way up to his ears from the thought of their last rendezvous here. That heat died quickly, his blood running cold at the bitter laughter that left the red haired pirate’s throat.

What’s wrong with him?

“I’m so sorry, Bugs, I’m sorry I– fuck, I’m being so selfish,” Shanks started rambling, pacing and pacing while his hand flexed, gesturing out with a tension Buggy’d never seen before. “No, I shouldn’t do this now. Not before your show. Sorry, Bugs, you should go have a good show. I’ll just… I’ll talk to you after. I’m sorry.”

Buggy’s floating hand slammed the door closed when Shanks tried to leave, his other hand pulling him around by his cloak.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he hissed, eyes wide while he tried to figure out what sort of drug could have made Shanks babble like this. Made him look this scared, this sick. “You can’t do ominous shit like this, and then just leave without telling me what the fuck is going on! Did someone fucking die? Why are you freaking out right now?”

“You’re right.” Shanks let out a pained laugh, leaning his back against the mirrored wall. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The clown glared, but nothing else came loose. He shook the other pirate, shaking his shoulders until those desperate, brown eyes met his.

“What you’re doing is telling me what the fuck is wrong with you, shithead.”

“That was always my favorite nickname,” Shanks smiled, eyes going dreamy.

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🤡🔴⏰~~~

“You know it’s silly to keep blaming me for that,” Shanks teased, trailing his fingers along Buggy’s bare shoulders as the clown took off his shoes. Taking too long to undress while they had another fake argument about Buggy swallowing the devil fruit he’d stolen when they were kids.

“Well, I’m just a silly clown then,” Buggy grumbled, tossing a shoe against the wall without much force before kicking off his pants. “Just a–”

“Just my silly clown,” Shanks purred after propping up his straw hat on the nightstand. He pushed that lovely, blue hair aside to breathe kisses up Buggy’s neck.

“I’m not yours, shithead,” he argued, though the fierceness faded into need fast when Shanks’ hand reached around his side to tease along his chest and stomach. Buggy couldn’t handle anything Shanks did or said. Rivals, friends, or this, he was always overwhelmed.

Especially this.

Shanks’ compliments and flirtations had always flustered and infuriated him, but now… Now he couldn’t think anytime his new lover was near. His lover. His boyfriend? His Shanks. He would tease, and play, and make him lose his mind. Could hardly get through a conversation without his face getting hot.

It was amazing. Incredible. Still… unbelievable. Still waiting for his beautiful lover to fall for the next stranger they met. To meet someone as perfect as he was. To fess up that this was just a joke after all.

That I’m just a joke.

Just a silly clown.

Those fears were hard to remember with Shanks’ lips on his skin. With the lovely lies he’d whisper in his ear. With the way he said his name like that.

“Buggy,” Shanks rasped, sinking to his knees between Buggy’s legs at the edge of the bed. “How about I make it up to you?”

Shanks loved saying that. He loved watching Buggy’s eyes flutter, seeing his breath catch.

One day I’ll make him believe me.

The red haired pirate was determined to make his lover feel beautiful. He’d seen the world be cruel, he’d fought that cruel world for Buggy, with Buggy.

I’ll make him smile.

“Do you want me to tell you what to do, baby,” he purred, hands stroking down Buggy’s inner thighs. “Or does my silly clown wanna be in charge right now?”

“Shut up, and suck my dick already, idiot– mmn, fuck yeah.”

Shanks hummed, taking his lover’s balls into his mouth while he started stroking along that perfect length. Buggy always got so hard, so fast, and Shanks’ eyes rolled back at the feel of those thick veins against his skin.

“I said–”

Shanks grinned at Buggy’s order, cutting him off. He swirled his tongue around the tip, moaning softly at the taste of him. He teased and sucked that sensitive head, pulling away with a popping sound while he watched every little twitch Buggy gave him.

“Stop teasing.”

“But you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Shanks praised, his voice and eyes dark as Buggy’s head fell back, starting to beg. “So good for—“

“F-fuck, Shanks…”

“Sorry, Bugs,” he gloated, kissing the tip one more time. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Gods, don’t stop! Please.”

Feeling Buggy shake, hearing him beg, whimper, and whine for him, was one of Shanks’ favorite things in the world. There was no one like him. No one more deserving, no one who needed him more.

He stopped his rhythm just long enough to let Buggy shiver at the slow, tight pressure of Shanks taking him all in, his throat like heaven to the clown that had fallen back against the mattress. The rhythm built again, built until the clown’s still-gloved hands gripped the sheets. Shanks felt a momentary twinge that he hadn't noticed the gloves before, but then his mind was gone, drowning in Buggy, drowning in all that come down his throat, and the sound of his name on those red lips.

“Shanks,” Buggy cried out, back arching from the insane pleasure that Shanks kept giving him. Spilling his need down that gorgeous, eager throat would never stop feeling like a dream. Never stop feeling like this.

The red haired pirate couldn’t help but tease, making his clown twitch when he licked his tip again, drained of every last drop. He laughed at Buggy’s gasp, then crawled up beside him, not caring about the colors on his face when he stole a kiss.

“So,” Shanks smirked as he rested his head on Buggy’s chest. “Did that make up for–”

“No,” Buggy scoffed, struggling to keep a cheesy smile off of his face. “Not even close, shithead.”

~~~⏰🤡🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

“Hey, idiot! Are you on drugs? I told Mohji not to share with–”

The giggle that Shanks let out did not help his case, but he tried.

He tried to figure out how to do or say anything with this weight on him. He felt like he was being crushed beneath all this guilt, this disgust, this fear that he’d ruined his own happiness, and how selfish that thought felt after all he’d done.

And now he was piling it all onto Buggy before his big show.

How do I stop being such a fucking asshole?

Buggy was very close to slapping him. Really fucking wanted to. Why wait–

“I fucked up,” Shanks admitted, his arm hanging loose at his side. He paused again, and Buggy pulled his hands away from the red haired man’s cloak, releasing him, and readying himself to beat the shit out of his drug-addled friend.

“I have too many apologies to give you right now. I’m sorry. I should have said it sooner, and I shouldn’t have come and ruined your pre show yellfest.”

“There wasn’t much to ruin,” Buggy laughed, still watching Shanks like he was a cornered animal. “Apparently I’m good at my job now.”

“You’ve always been good, Bug–”

“Don’t fucking do that.”

Shanks’ breath caught at the sudden anger in Buggy’s voice. Real anger. Not the play anger they always had.

“I’m sorry, Bugs. What do you mean?”

“What do you mean,” Buggy mocked, stepping back as his body disconnected, pieces floating up and around while he snapped. “Your favorite fucking sentence. You always just swoop in, and act like nothing bad ever happened! You act all sweet, say all this shit, and fucking touch me like– It’s not fair! You’re too…”

Red Haired Shanks had never looked like this. All of Buggy’s pieces stopped moving while he stared his old friend. He’d never looked this wrecked, not even when he was blacked out, and throwing up over the side of the ship. He always looked dreamy eyed, or just too fucking relaxed, no matter what was happening. The most negativity he’d show Buggy was just mild, teasing annoyance, and even then, he’d slip into flirting almost instantly.

Right now Shanks looked like he was falling to pieces.

Buggy’s words were knives through the gut, tearing him down, almost dragging him to his knees. That anger that he’d always ignored was brutal. It was evidence of everything Shanks now hated about himself. Every ugly, selfish mistake was real.

He’d truly hurt Buggy.

Now he’d hurt the woman he loves.

And now he might be hurting this strange group of lovers that he’d been so determined to steal his clown back from.

Not my clown.

“Are you crying,” Buggy shouted as he grabbed Shanks’ face, squeezing his cheeks to force him to look up. Buggy’s head flew down, blinking at the tears in the Emperor of the Sea’s eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything, Buggy,” Shanks mumbled, struggling between the pressure in his throat, and the clown’s grip on his face. “I’m not gonna say I’ll make it up to you this time. I know I say that every time, Bugs… but I’d like to talk about it all later. If you want to.”

“Okay…” Buggy pulled his body together, slowly releasing Shanks’ face, and wondering if he was the one on drugs instead of his old friend. “You swear no one died?”

“I swear,” he laughed, finally a sliver of hope showing through his darkened soul. “Although the party hasn’t started yet.”

“Will you watch out for her for me?”

Buggy’s voice sounded light, but Shanks knew how real his request was. That sliver of hope felt pathetic.

I’m the one that hurt her.

“I will.”

Buggy kissed him before kicking him out, and Shanks stood there, frozen in shame until performers cussed at him for being in the way.

Can I fucking drink now?

~~~🔴🤡🔴🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Beautiful, they both thought while they looked at their numbers girl.

Mihawk’s guilt over treating her like a toy, and dressing her up like a doll was almost forgotten when she’d let him trail his hands over her skin, her hair, let him play with her. Y/N was always stunning, but he couldn’t wait to turn her around for Crocodile to see after he’d accentuated her features.

It was incredibly satisfying to watch that frightening face melt at the sight of her.

What a strange, lovely girl, to bring so many villains to their knees.

The swordsman was already on his knees for her, and would gladly do so again, smiling to himself at the thought.

“Are you ready, little rabbit,” he rasped, standing to offer her his hand. Crocodile could see her shaking at the vanity, and he had to move toward her, coming to stand beside his little prince.

“We’re right here with you, sweet girl,” he promised, wanting to take her and run, to leave the fucking guild behind just to see her real smile again.

“I’m ready,” Y/N cleared her throat, that perfect mask of a smile hiding his girl away. He didn’t even care that she’d lied.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

They weren’t supposed to touch you at the party. A firm rule you’d set in place, needing to be seen as professional to maintain respect with these contacts, even if they assumed the truth anyway.

It was always about the image you showed, not the truth behind it. No truths in this world.

Just need enough berry to paint a pretty picture.

You couldn’t decide if you regretted the no touching rule or not. Which option was less likely to make you cry in front of all the guests?

Here they come.

You almost smirked at the twitching in Crocodile and Mihawk's hands as they stood beside you, watching the line come closer. Buggy had to wait backstage for the show, so his executives and CFO would be greeting the guests.

The guest list was seared into your mind. You had obsessed, going over and over it, making sure that only the right people showed, making sure that their plus one’s were up to your standards.

Each guest could bring a maximum of two personal guards. Crocodile had fought you on that, but he’d finally agreed that not a single rich sleaze bag would be brave enough to meet with a bunch of pirates without security. He did insist that sea prism stone would be confiscated at the gate, and that all the guards would be tested to ensure no devil fruit users would be attending.

You knew every single thing about the guests heading up those steps, yet you still scanned each one as you turned on that Sylvad charm.

Mihawk and Crocodile seemed to radiate the opposite of charm, and you were glad you were part of the greeting party, otherwise the guests might have all run screaming.

“Do you have to be so scary,” you scolded with a laugh. “You’re making my job harder here.”

“Come now, rabbit. You have them all wrapped around your little finger,” Mihawk teased, his voice bringing a flush to your skin that you tried to ignore.

“That’s Mayor Kottley, isn't it?” Crocodile flicked his eyes toward the ostentatious man in a bowler hat that was taking his time strutting up the steps. “The one with the brothel–”

“Shh,” you swallowed a laugh, your eyes wide. You tried to get your face straight, but couldn’t resist asking. “How did you know that?”

“My sweet girl's notes are very thorough, and very entertaining.”

A true smile started.

Almost forgot. I almost forgot it’s over.

That thought made it easier to find your face again, the pride and warmth that had flooded your veins drifting away.

Guest after guest after guest. So many annoying people with condescending smiles. This was not the kind of pretend you wanted.

At least I get to help them all before it’s over. At least I matter that much.

“Sweetheart,” Crocodile interrupted your spiral, his voice reminding you to breathe and smile. “You know what this guild is for, right? Sorry, of course you do…. I just forgot to warn you. We're gonna be doing that tonight.”

“Doing wha—“

“Well, don’t you look lovely, Y/N. And here I thought you hated parties.”

That voice came from a tall, handsome man in a conservative, yet expensive suit. The scent of citrus and cedarwood moved with him when he kissed your hand.

It’s over.

“Hello, Uncle Cedrick.”

~~~~~~

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

a/n: Hi!!! How's everybody doing? Please don't kill me for the cliffhanger, there's sooo much going on with this party, lol. Also, I hope you don't mind that I decided against describing reader's dress, hair, and makeup (besides "accentuating features") for the party. I had some ideas, but I figured your ideas would work better for you! Numbers Girl will pretty much always be wearing dresses though since Daddy Croc likes them, and Mihawk enjoys the easy access 😅

Part 23

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

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