MJ D. Simp

Qifrey understood that feeling all too well. He didn't have a family that he knew of. (They were probably dead.) He couldn't tell anyone where his home was. (Any time he tried to think, all he could think of was that cursed box.) He didn't even know simple questions about himself, like what was his favourite colour? (Blue – at least he thinks it is. But not blue like the ocean; but like the bountiful sky he was barred from seeing.)

(In his darkest moments, where he lies awake at night, he often thinks about how Qifrey was not even his true name. He thanks Beldaruit for gifting him an identity, but there will always be a hole that he won't be able to fill. He has learned over time to make a name for himself – He is Qifrey the Apprentice and no one would be able to take that away from him. Yet the mind, as wondrous as it is, is also the heart's most dangerous ally, for only it can think about the alternate universes where he is not Qifrey but a boy with a family.)

(Please don't take my life again, he begged, but there would be no one who would listen. He would soon learn to make that decision for himself.)

Beldaruit was certainly wise, and with his age comes a certain way to manipulate the truth to fit his narrative. And he wasn't wrong; technically, Qifrey can't be an Unknowing if he doesn't know anything to begin with. The other sages agreed, although Vinanna was always wary of him. He supposed that it couldn't be helped as the 'Wise in Principle'. It was her job to keep all of witchkind in check, and he stood as the biggest threat to their security as of late.

Even after an extermination attempt, if one cockroach survives and is left alone, another infestation is bound to follow.

Perhaps one day, Qifrey would be a grand enough witch so that he may drown out all of the scum that has infected him. Maybe then he will find his eye and all the memories stolen from him.

But for all his effort, he couldn't make these spells work for the life of him. They would technically perform – the fire will burn, and the wind will blow – but it never takes the form he needs it to be. Nor go in the direction he wants for it to go. Even with Beldaruit's gentle encouragement, there always seemed to be something that would go awry.

(He just wanted to create a spell that would keep him dry.)

It seems as though the olden witches were right in their decision to create the pact. If magic were truly for everyone, shouldn't everyone be able to use it intuitively? Instead, he was struggling just as a child would struggle to write. Vinanna was right to be suspicious of him; he truly was an unknowing.

But it wasn't fair – not his stolen memories nor his distaste for water. Qifrey was barely a man, and he was sure that if his mother were around, he would still have been considered her child. Except he would never know what his mother was like, or if he even had one. His entire life was ripped away from him, sitting somewhere next to his missing eye.

Qifrey gripped his hair, ripping it from his skull. His head seared with pain as the ache of his ignorance and the sound of the rushing water around him. It unfortunately didn't help that the entire assembly felt like his little box, except this time, he had plenty of people to share his personal hell.

Did he even need magic? Qifrey thought to himself. Part of him was willing to run away to the outside world, away from the rules and regulations that bound his hands and silenced his tongue. He was quite young, and there were always ways for him to grow – both in stature and in spirit. Perhaps if he focused on his body and not his penmanship, then perhaps he could brute force his way through the Hats.

But if they can use magic without creating a magic seal (if his research is to be trusted), then simple knives wouldn't fare all that much against his most loathed foe. His frustration was even enough to mask the scent of roses that appeared. Weren't they under the ocean? Were flowers that fragrant even survive down here?

"Your lines are sloppy." A curt voice spoke over his shoulder, haughty in tone and confident in nature. Qifrey jumped in his seat, surprised by the uninvited voice. He was often used to people letting him wallow in his misery, so this was a change of pace; he just wasn't sure if it was welcomed or not.

He looked to his side to see a child's face, probably someone around his age, whose eyes were glaring at his magic seal. With a raised eyebrow and a disgusted look, he could only imagine the type of person you were. Haughty and all-knowing, like the other apprentices who shame him for his lack of knowledge. It took a lot of restraint and coaching from his master to not lash out when he was taunted. 

The second thing he noticed about you was the clothing you were wearing. They were simple in colour, the solid white being a standard for most apprentices. Yet yours were adorned in golden and red accents. The crest on your chest was his final clue that you were someone of importance. Whose life would matter if you went missing.

Unlike him, so forgotten by the world that even he is left ignorant of his own existence.

(Qifrey wasn't wrong. It was just a shame that no one could find you in time.)

When he didn't react to your taunt, eyes focused back to his paper and pen, you scoffed. You placed your body between his focused face and the desk he was hunched over. Qifrey – ever the menace but still a gentleman at heart – pushed away from your invading frame, glaring at the intrusion into his personal space.

"What in the devil is your problem?" he sneered, trying to push you out of his way. All of the assembly apprentices were the same; if they weren't fearful of him, then they were trying to pester him to leave. At least he had the conviction to stay and learn; that's more than what he can say about those who had magic handed to them. 

"Your magic isn't stable, which makes the flame weak." You turned away, looking back at the desk. Once you have deemed his seal sufficiently scrutinized, you point at it. "See? The lines are shaky, and the sigils aren't centred. You're never going to get your desired result if you rush like this."

"Aren't the best witches supposed to be able to draw their seals with speed?" Qifrey asked with an annoyed tone. It was one thing to hear Master Beldaruit's gentle criticism, but here you were lambasting his poor attempt at magic.

"Yes, but they also master precision first." You turned back around to look him in his eyes – or eye in his case. You squinted, and he could almost see the slight recognition on your face. "You're the unknowing stray Uncle Beldaruit brought in." Damn it, of course you knew who he was. Now he had to face the same ridicule that he's been receiving from everyone else.

"Quite the harsh way of putting it?" he said with a sardonic smile. Qifrey was finally able to push past you and went to gather his belongings from the little desk. So much for being able to work in peace away from the bustle of the Assembly. He often found himself by the outskirts and near the water barrier in order to find some form of serenity. The occasional droplets that burned his skin made him good at preventing him from letting his guard down. "Now, if you excuse me, I am going to work elsewhere."

Before he could turn away, you managed to surprise him.

"My apologies, I understand how that term can be insulting." You didn't make an excuse, nor did you mince your words to downplay what you have done. Perhaps you had more sense than most of the apprentices that he's had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. "Unfortunately, there isn't a more… kinder way to explain your kind."

"To your dismay, we are not some otherworldly creature that hides under your bed." Was it truly strange to have people who weren't born into magic enter your world? If knowledge was best shared so that it could be innovated and improve the lives of people, then why were you witches so hellbent on keeping it a secret? He would follow your fallacious rules if only to keep learning about this magic that has ruined his life.

"Well forgive me that I've never had to interact with an unknowing– I suppose human would be a more fitting term." Your insufferable tone returned, long gone any regret from your voice. Qifrey was always confused when the other witches referred to the 'unknowing' as human, as if everyone wasn't made of the same flesh and blood. There was a story in his heart of how the world came from clay, even if he couldn't picture where exactly it came from. 

Yet before he could continue this banter – that Qifrey begrudgingly found some enjoyment in – the Sage of Distrust fell from the sky and landed behind you. Great, not only did he have to deal with you and your insufferable voice, he now had to pretend in front of Vinanna that he was a functional member of magic society. Not that he isn't, but he knows that she is looking for one chance to put him on trial once again and cast him out into this cold and unforgiving world. 

"Dear grandchild?" Her voice was still stern; he wouldn't dare call her soft. But when the great Sage spoke to you, there was an exasperated fondness in her eyes. Like a person who watched their cat knock down another vase. Perhaps you had more of an edge than he gave you credit for.

"Come now, it's almost dinner time, and your parents are worried for you." She turns to Qifrey, and with all warmth drained from her heart, she acknowledges him for the first time during this interaction. "You best return to your master, young one. Beldaruit tends to worry for strays that wander too far from his care."

Qifrey understood quickly where you get your blunt tongue from.

He nodded, bowing slightly with respect. As much as he thought respect should go both ways, he wasn't about to create a scene with you present. He didn't have the chance to make a clean exit when you turned back to call out to him.

"Using fire magic to create a drying spell is needlessly difficult. Try using water magic and use a sigil to repel it away from you." Qifrey internalized the advice, actually finding it quite helpful. Logically, it would make the most sense to try to repel water rather than to loop the fire magic to endlessly keep him dry. But bless your heart, you weren't aware of his aversion to liquid, and he'd rather not practice with something he was petrified about. 

Although maybe it would be best for him to become a master at it. It would be the best way for him to overcome his fear. His poor, unfortunate heart, you gave him much to ponder over this evening. 

Despite the growing distance between the two of you, Qifrey could still hear your grandmother chastising you for speaking to him. Whispered warnings about how you must stay away from that boy and how he might drag you back to that group again. It was the again that caught his attention, wondering what Vinnana could possibly have meant by that. Perhaps the two of you had more in common than he thought, but he shrugged that thought away. There were more important matters at hand, like implementing your advice into his spell.

After he composed his thoughts, he gathered his things and rushed back to the centre of the Assembly, but not before running into another nuisance.

"I see you've met the Great Sage's grandchild!" Olruggio's voice perked up from the side. Qifrey observed him, and with the way he was leaning casually against the wall, it seemed like he watched that entire bastard. What a nosy bastard, and he didn't have the decency to even step in and save him from his humiliation.

"I didn't know the Sage even had a child, let alone a grandchild." He stopped to acknowledge his fellow apprentice, because calling him a friend made his heart creak and his eye ache. 

Olruggio hummed with acknowledgement. "Yes, they don't tend to make an appearance often, letting the more public spectacle fall onto the Sage and their parents. But from what I've heard, they're a prodigy at their craft and every master has been begging them to join their atelier."

Qifrey would hope that you would be half decent at magic. Perhaps that's why you were judging his own seal – probably to see where you would have been had you been born to a regular family. But then how much of your success could be attributed to you as a person rather than the family crest you carried on your chest?

"Besides, they're quite a beauty aren't they? Dare I say they're the prettiest witch in our cohort of apprentices?" Olruggio started to daydream about being your knight in shining armour, and Qifrey could see what he held for you was a childish fantasy at best. He refused to feed into any more delusions that his peer would come up with.

Qifrey does agree, though, that you were quite pretty – pretty annoying that is.

(He dares not think about the way his heart quickened and creaked when you stared at him. Your stare was so heavy that he was tempted to spill all of his secrets at that moment. Whoever you were, you were dangerous to him – your beauty, the most complicated spell and your tongue, the sharpest knife. And he realized all of this before noticing that his left eye started to function less and less as the days went on. The smell of those sweet roses that permeated from your skin was going to haunt him for the rest of forever. Or at least if he was a weaker witch, that was what he thought would happen.)

But it was alright, because he would never have to see you again. The two of you hovered in different social and magical classes. Sure, he was the apprentice of the great Wise in Teachings, and the two of you were apprentices; but that didn't change the fact that you were of noble blood – practically royalty in the eyes of his peers and elders – while he was just some eyeless boy the Sages took pity on.

So when the next day, you plopped down on the bench where he was eating lunch, sitting in the spot where Olruggio usually occupied, he raised his eyebrow with suspicion. You had no food with you, so you weren't looking to sit and have a meal. And if you were, he was sure that any of the other tables would have pushed their own to have you grace them with your presence. He could feel the envy radiating off of the other apprentices – not that he minded all that much. Still, his curiosity was piqued. Why were you here with him and not somewhere else?

"I heard that you have a history with the Brimmed Hats?" From the way you were so sure of yourself, Qifrey didn't know why you even bothered to ask. If he had to suspect, you probably heard from the conversations your grandmother had with your parents. How aggravating that his lack of life was reduced to table-side gossip for you and your family.

He didn't respond to that allegation, just simply nodding to confirm your already confirmed suspicion. You hummed, placing both of your hands onto the table to lean closer and whisper once again into his ear. He tried to keep a straight face, but once again the alluring scent of roses almost lulled him to comfort – a dangerous thing for his poor heart.

"You would be best if you stayed away from those wicked fiends." Your face was solemn, with none of your usual charm– or lack thereof. Qifrey understood why your words held more weight than usual. The talk of the Brimmed Hats was almost forbidden in the assembly, where the adults would rather live in a false reality where everyone followed the pact to the letter of the law. But when it comes to human laws that were treated like natural rules, there will always be those who argue against them. Perhaps it is where their convictions lie, or perhaps they simply wanted to break from the norm.

Yet this agreement not to acknowledge their existence made his investigation harder. No one was willing to speak to him – even after the 'I lost all of my memories' pity card he abused to get what he wanted. But his pain, albeit a little exaggerated for maximum emotional manipulation, wasn't enough to unlock the silence forced upon the people. Even Olruggio would subtly veer his curiosity away towards the more childlike wonder that came with magic.

Except for you. You didn't flinch nor looked away with guilt.

"Who are you to stop me from confronting them?" Qifrey never did like when anyone told him what to do, and he certainly didn't like being condescended to. A quiet anger simmered under his skin, the way a tree would radiate scorching heat when out in the sun for too long.

Your hand goes to the base of your throat like you were going to clear your throat, but there was a slight tension in your neck. It almost looked like you were struggling to breathe. You tried to open your mouth to say something, but all Qifrey heard were choked gasps and a frustrated groan.

"Just… heed my warning," you said after taking a deep breath. You stood up and walked away as if nothing had happened. As if he didn't get a small peek behind your facade, of a young child who was terrified of others making the same mistake as you did. But he wasn't going to listen to you – he couldn't. Not when, for the first time since he begrudgingly called this underwater prison a home, he found a lead for those dreaded Brimmed Hats. 

Qifery apologized to you in his head; he was about to keep you close for the most selfish reasons. It will all be worth it if he can get his eye back. Then, he would be able to properly admire you and all your glory with both of his eyes.

(He didn't need to know that you had your own reasons to keep him close. You weren't naive; the minute you issued your warning, you could see in his eye that he was not going to let this go. That was alright by you, as long as he didn't bring your shared past close to home. You clutch your necklace, praying that the magic seal inscribed upon it will last another day before it needs to be redone.)

When you had started joining the disaster duo on their hijinks and adventures, Olruggio had asked Qifrey why you had started to join them. "It's not that I'm complaining," he said, hands up in surrender. "But isn't it a little odd that the Sage's grandchild has decided to join two nobodies?" 

"You're the prodigy of Godfrey, and I am the apprentice of the Teaching Sage; we're not exactly nobodies," Qifrey clarified. You had brought a certain calm to his reckless plans and Olruggio's constant panic. Whenever either of the young boys veered too far on either end of the emotional scale, you brought them back to centre. It was refreshing having someone be normal – well, as normal as you could be.

The Knights Moralis were tasked to tail you in your everyday life. You weren't even able to walk inside a humble store without having at least two guards standing outside of it. Qifrey found it absurd; yes, you were a child of a Sage, thus were privy to extra protection; however, if the Great Hall was as safe as everyone claimed, then why were you in need of such surveillance? Even if a conflict were to arise, it wasn't like the Great Hall was in a shortage of witches to lend their aid. And even then, he would begrudgingly mention that you were a talented enough witch on your own to handle yourself. 

Qifrey watched as you tried to run away from your guards, your little strides failing to outrun the pace of the Knights. It was almost sad seeing you like this, and in his kindness (really pity), his arm shot out from the alleyway and dragged you to him.

"What are you doing?" you whispered harshly, refraining from yelling so that the Knights don't find you. You didn't resist his hold, following him to wherever you thought he was going. 

Qifrey didn't say a word until the two of you stood in front of his humble abode. Beldaruit had offered a place inside his own home, but Qifrey thought it would be best for him to have some level of independence. 

(The less attached he was, the better it was for his health anyway.)

"You can stay here if you ever need to run away from the Knights," he offered, opening the door to his room. It was less grand than what you were probably used to, but it was his, and he would take pride in it.

You stood there, head turning back to where the Knights were. After taking a moment to ponder – really, it was an obvious decision from the start, you had walked inside his room. Qifrey then walked in himself and closed the door behind him. 

Neither of you had spoken a word, content to sit in the awkward silence. Qifrey had tried to speak up – at least ask how your day had gone, but you had raised your hand to silence him. He huffed, not even knowing why he had offered his room as a sanctuary. Yet it was obvious in the way your shoulders sagged and your breathing deepened that this was the first time in a while that you were able to relax.

(At least, relax as much as the two of you could.)

The first time that this happened, you had let him know that this was never going to happen again. Fine by him, he thought. He couldn't spend another moment with your pompous self. But then the second time, you wandered in because you were in the neighbourhood. The third time, you were breathless and in need of a break from running. By the fourth, Qifrey had stopped believing your excuses.

"You're allowed to admit that you missed me," Qifrey teased, poking your heated cheeks. You didn't confirm his accusation, moving to sit on his bed. But you didn't deny it either.

Qifrey had once thought that this was part of his plan – a ploy to have you lower your guard and give him information on the Brimmed Hats, but he soon got distracted by other conversation topics. Slowly, he realized that he'd learned a lot of things, but none about the Brimmed.

Over these interactions, Qifrey had come to learn more about you beyond the basic information he heard on the street. You specialized in wind magic, creating gusts to help you float or harsh blades in the name of self-defence. That wasn't to discredit the other forms of magic you knew, but it was clear you prefer to wander in and out of the room, like a breeze in the wind or a ghost haunting the living. He had also come to learn that despite your refined upbringing, it often took you half a moment to remember what emotions were. In a room full of laughter, yours would be the last he would hear. Qifrey supposed it was just a quirk of who you were, so drilled with the idea of etiquette, you didn't dare breathe if it wasn't the correct thing to do. 

He'd also come to learn about the things you disliked; the knights were an obvious one, but you also disliked the general crowd and the performed flattery that they provided. The two of you had a shared dislike for the watery walls that surrounded you, and he was surprised to learn that you didn't care for physical touch. It was a shame considering how often he found people granting themselves access to your body.

Qifrey, for what it was worth, had tried to reciprocate the information that you had shared, but the more he tried to think about the little facts about himself, the more rage he felt at what was robbed from him. But still, that didn't stop him from finding peace in these mundane conversations; you were not the Sage's blood, nor was he Beldaruit's stray. Just two children who were able to find friendship with each other.

(Yet after every meeting, his eye would sear with pain, and your heart would be left aching. A phantom pain of what was to come.)

Qifrey had learned through the hard way that the thing you hated the most was when people would spit gossip about you when your back was turned, which unfortunately was quite a common occurrence for you. "I don't understand why people are entitled to information that serves them no purpose," you had once complained to him.

He remembered the one time he had to witness it.

Whispers tend to follow regardless of where you go. It was to be expected given that you are a descendant of a Sage, yet willingly surrounding yourself with those who were below your status. Those rumours didn't bother you all that much, always holding your head above the water. But there was once when someone had asked you about an event a few years ago – a disappearance of sorts. They taunted you, asking how a witch of your calibre could have been taken, even if you were too young to hold a stable pen.

When he saw that person again with a black eye and missing teeth, Qifrey asked you what had happened. He really meant to ask what did you do to that poor child.

"They were prying into business that didn't concern them. I merely gave them a reason to not look any further." Your tone was absolute, and your voice was casual, as if you had done something like this before. In most cases, taking violent action such as this would have landed you on trial with the Knights Moralis, but when your grandmother was the head of it all, it made sense why you hadn't faced any consequences.

Still, he didn't ask you any more questions, lest you decide to take his remaining working eye. 

Despite your refined and sharp edges, Qifrey noticed that it wasn't your natural state of being. You were blunt and enraging at points, but you were never rude on purpose. Whenever he would struggle with a spell, your advice would come in absolutes – do this, and you won't fail. For better or worse, you never hid the knowledge that you knew. It took Qifrey a few months to learn that's how you show your care.

He even saw it in how you interacted with the younger apprentices, taking the time to earnestly answer their questions regardless of how simple they were. You helped them use the right sigils and gave them advice to keep their little hands steady. Qifrey thought about how you would have made a fantastic master and how wonderful your atelier would be. He'd volunteer to be your watchful eye – fiercely protecting your borders from any threats that would dare to lay harm. Somewhere far away in the valleys in the Zozah Peninsula, where you and he can be far away from the stiff air of the Great Hall.

Qifrey hissed in pain, hand clutching his missing eye. You looked over with your eyes furrowed and mouth open to say something. He waved you off, letting you know that it was nothing and for you to attend to your makeshift students. It didn't stop you from keeping your eye on him. 

(He couldn't forget a conversation he heard in passing between two fruit vendors. Of course, they were talking about you because it seemed that the Great Hall didn't have anything else better to talk about. But for once, they weren't criticizing you for some minuscule reason. "It's quite strange to see them like this," one of them spoke in hushed whispers. His eye kept glancing toward the Knight stationed not too far off. "Ever since… their incident, they haven't been the same.")

("Quite a shame too, they were such a bright child. The only ray of light in this underwater city.")

He often wondered what had happened for you to become so jaded. Was it the expectations unfairly placed on your shoulders? The ones you carried with such grace, it was as if you were born with it. Or perhaps it was something darker – something that he knew too well yet couldn't remember.

"Couldn't sleep?" Your voice had broken his concentration, ending another night where all of his thoughts led back to you. You sat beside him on the log – a makeshift seat used to sit around a campfire. Under the light of actual stars, your eyes weren't as dull as usual, and your shoulders weren't as stiff. He liked to see you like this, a glimpse of the child that you kept protected in your heart.

The two of you sat in silence – another thing that he loved about you. Unlike you, many of the other people he's interacted with in the Great Hall would ask him countless questions, from his magic to his past to even about his master. Qifrey didn't have your patience to answer all of them, giving the shortest answers so that he may exit as quickly as possible. Even Olruggio, despite being one of his closest friends, would often fill his silence with his thoughts. He has come to enjoy hearing Olruggio speak, but sometimes, he just wants quiet. Silence that didn't demand to be ended.

You and your darling heart had granted him that peace.

Olruggio snored off to the side, lying on top of a portable sleeping cot that he had brought with him. Qifrey smiled as he watched his friend, both amused and baffled as to how he could fall asleep so quickly. Did he not have dreams that would leave him awake and unsettled? Until the next time he has to fall asleep? He watched his beloved friend as he breathed the air like it wasn't a struggle. Perhaps one day, he too would never feel that rush of panic.

"Do you ever wish you could sleep as peacefully as him?" Qifrey asked, eye turning to look at your face shining in the moonlight. 

You pondered for a moment, letting his question linger in the air. In that quiet moment, Qifrey took his time to observe you. Under the watery prison of the Great Hall, it was clear that you were missing some colour in your face, always tinged a soft blue. But you glowed under the glow of the sun and the light of the moon, colour coming to your face. Utterly ethereal and completely divine, if he had to ascribe a face to the Star who fell for the Silverwood Tree, it would be yours. 

(Wood creaked under his bones and he winced at the pain in his head, begging for his heart to become the seed it was always meant to be.)

As much as he wished to confess to you – despite the odd pain it would bring whenever he thought about it  – he kept his mouth shut. Even on the small chance that you actually felt the same towards him, your status was too much of a difference between you. He would never want to drag you down with him, lest you become subject to even more gossip and vitriol.

A domesticated stray was still a stray at the end of the day.

"I do, though it's quite concerning to see him lose his guard so suddenly." Your criticism was softened by the fondness in your voice. "Doesn't he look like a tired cat who spent the day lazing around?"

"He does," Qifrey chuckled, his own care for Olruggio tainting his voice. He often wished that he could spend forever with the two of you – the most important people in his world. "I do wonder what kind of nightmares a noble child such as yourself would have to suffer. Did your tailor bring you clothing in the wrong shade of red yet still worth more than the gross earnings of the  peninsula?"

You scoffed, opening your mouth to retort to his claim, but nothing came out. Yet again, Qifrey saw the words you desperately wanted to say get stuck in your throat. But this time, you didn't cough like you usually do. Instead, you took a deep breath and continued with a forced deflection. "Do you often have nightmares of what the Brimmed Hats did to you?" 

Qifrey took in a sharp breath. He never spoke about his time with those damned witches, and to your credit, you never asked him about it further after that lunch. Even when Olruggio would become curious as to why Qifrey was so intent on hunting the Brimmed down, you would expertly redirect his attention to something else. You never asked, and he never answered, even if he didn't have anything to go off of.

"It's hard to have nightmares when there isn't anything to remember," he spoke honestly. His hands shook at his vulnerability, and his head seared in pain. After years of repressing his emotions, it somehow felt worse to let it all out.

"I suppose we can count that as a small blessing." You didn't say anything after that, continuing to amuse yourself with the odd sound Olruggio would let out. As much as he wished to agree with you, Qifrey needed answers to everything: his past, his eye and where his future would take him.

A true blessing would be to remove this veil of ignorance. If no one else was going to do it for him, then he would have to do it himself.

After taking his third test, Qifrey had known what his next course of action would be. It was only natural for him to head towards the Tower of Tomes. They say that every single book and writing relating to magic appears in the tower, and surely that would have to include any notes the Brimmed Hats wrote about him. Even a single page would be enough for him to deduce what had happened to him all those years ago.

Qifrey explained the thought process behind his plan with a manic glee, pacing around the room as though he were a mad scientist. "It's a perfect plan!" he exclaimed, ignoring the concerned look his friends were giving each other.

Olruggio, always wanting to be supportive of his friend, was concerned with how obsessive he was becoming. The adventures they were going on, the sneaking out to the outside world and the discoveries they would make were all good fun for him. Yet the minute Qifrey reminded them that his sole focus was on the Brimmed Hats, his mood would sour. Learning about magic to better their skills and help the Unknowing – that had been his reason to become a witch. To see his most dearest perverse such a dream into something that focused on vengeance pained him.

"Promise that once you discover your past in the Tower, you leave it behind to focus on your future," Olruggio pleaded. What was the point of a future if it wasn't one where the three of you were together? To his credit, Qifrey had agreed to his request. He, too, desperately wanted to be free of a burden he was ignorant of.

You, on the other hand, were more hesitant to let him go. Constantly, you would ask if this was truly as he wanted and that perhaps the result of his pursuit of knowledge shouldn't be the answers he desired. That the journey was enough for it all to be worth it, even if he never got the answers he sought. Perhaps even letting the Knights continue their pursuits and putting his need for revenge aside.

"How dare you ask me to leave all of this behind?" he snarled at you when you made your concerns known. You were sitting in your tower, so high that the suffering and plight of those below were unknown. You would only care for the water flooding your people if you were inconvenienced by the smell of their rotting bodies. "The Knights Moralis were never going to grant me the justice that I deserve. Unlike you, I don't have the benefit of being missed." There was enough disdain in his voice to make you step back, but your face didn't lose its composure. 

"Fine, go and discover their secrets. But do not come crying to me when the answer isn't what you wished it to be." With that, you walked away, leaving behind a resolute Qifrey. His heart panged against his better judgment, for he truly wished that you would come with him. For support? For comfort? He wasn't sure – Qifrey just has come to realize that he needs you more than he's comfortable with admitting. With another headache and a heart that was ready to burst, Qifrey walked away to find Olruggio and come up with a plan.

It was a disaster. Despite how many scenarios Qifrey had simulated, there had been no feasible reason for him to expect this. 

A Silverwood Tree. The Brimmed Hats not only took away his eye and past, but they had also violated him so heavily that he cannot have a future. They had decided to rip him into shreds, dig their hands inside of his body for their sick need of knowledge. The Tower of Tomes had plenty of stories on this topic; some myths and legends of people turning into Silverwood Trees and some fact-based research about why this phenomenon occurred. But the information he needed was not there, even after pouring through every page and volume.

There was no cure – his only option was to wait out his days until his skin turned to bark or he died before then.

His head sears with pain. His fingers turned into branches and his hair into leaves. Olruggio's sacrifice spares him a few more years. All in a blur that he would remember for the rest of his waking days. Yet for now, he blocks the memory like a dam in a river, opting to just wait for Olruggio to wake up. There would be time to ruminate and examine his memory, but now he wished that he were back in his room.

He wishes that you were there with him– no, he can't think of you like that. Unless he wished to see Olruggio's pain go to waste.

"Have you come to find your answer, Qifrey?"

Qifrey's head perked up when he heard your voice, whipping his body to see you standing at the edge of the forest. You might have been a figment of his imagination, given that he wished for your presence a few moments before. But as you walked closer, covering Olruggio's unconscious body with your cloak, he came to realize that you were very real.

"Well?" You raised your eyebrow, stopping just short of the edge of the cliff. You didn't sit down next to him as you'd usually do – deciding to loom over him like the ancient statues of bygone witches.

"I didn't learn anything." He couldn't look you in the eyes as he lied. So Qifrey decided to look over the horizon, jealous of the birds flying above with no care in the world. Were they not empathetic to the fact that his entire world had been uprooted for reasons he cannot remember?

"Qifrey, if you are going to lie to me, be a man and do it to my face," you scoffed, kneeling down to meet him at eye level. Your hands gently held his chin, and you moved his face, petrified eyes meeting calm ones. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"There is nothing to tell!" he jerked away from your comforting touch and stood to move away from you. He heaved with rage that he would never be able to bask in your warmth – that someone who wasn't aware of your disdain for the small closets and your love of stars would have that pleasure. He isn't physically able to be the man that you deserve. Even if he was able to shed the title of pitied stray, he couldn't love you in the way that you deserve.

There would be no loving words that would make poets blush. Nor would there be grand romantic gestures with the help of his magic. It pained him to admit it, but he loved and respected you more than to trap you in a stagnant marriage. It would hurt to see you with another man, but perhaps that pain would do him some good.

"How did you even find us here? I thought you didn't want any part of our plan today." Qifrey crossed his arms and stood a few feet away from you. Perhaps if you hated him, it would make this forced separation more bearable.

"I happen to be in the area and saw Olruggio run around in distress," you explained, keeping your voice level despite his indignation. Qifrey often wished that you broke a little more of your shell, to step further away from the dignified noble persona that you were boxed into.

("Quite a shame too, they were such a bright child. The only ray of light in this underwater city.")

"Well as you can see, everything is alright here. You know how Olruggio is, always passing out at the most inopportune times–"

"I'm aware of the parasite that you are afflicted with."

What? Qifrey's mind had gone blank at your statement. What had you meant by that?

Neither of you said anything else, and every time you tried to open your mouth, you stopped before you could let any of the words out. He pleaded with you, begging you to answer the plethora of questions that bombarded his psyche, yet you didn't answer any of them. Qifrey was starting to believe that you couldn't answer any of them.

Instead, your hand slowly went around your neck, fiddling with the necklace you had guarded fiercely. You refused to take it off, despite the amount of teasing the two boys had put you through. Qifrey even once tried to snatch it away from you, before you scratched him with a crazed look in your eyes. It was the most emotion that he'd ever seen on your face. He wished to see more of that side of you.

When your necklace fell from your neck, he would come to realize why you were so protective of it.

From the roots of your hair to its ends, your hair slowly transitioned from what he thought was your natural colour to white with a silver hue. The same as the snow that Olruggio spoke fondly of when he thought of home. The same as the leaves of the Silverwood Trees in the various magical shops.

The same as his own hair, and he had come to realize the reason for his hair. There must have been a magical spell on the necklace – an illusion spell perhaps, that kept your hair a different colour.

You were like him. You were also infected with a Silverwood Tree.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? Why keep it a secret from me?" he cried, eyes tearing up at the betrayal. You had known what his problem was and perhaps you even knew of a solution, yet you kept your mouth shut. And for what reason? Because the entirety of witch society was so content with turning a blind eye to the suffering of others because it wouldn't fit their narrative? 

What is the reason for compiling all of the knowledge under this starry veil if it is only good for it to be locked up in a tower?

"I thought we were friends– I thought you cared about me!" Anger had become a familiar friend to him, always sitting right under his skin, waiting for a day to be released. You shouldn't have been the recipient of his rage, but you were a representation of everything he had come to hate about the magical world he was forced into. You were privileged enough to be born into a magical family of high status, and you would never understand why there were people who hungered for answers like a starving dog. Not when the whole world was open to you at the tip of your pen. 

You did not take kindly to his accusation, stepping forward into his personal space. "I never kept anything from you! It's not my fault that they–" a violent cough interrupted your speech, leaving you keeling into the ground. You tried to continue to speak to defend yourself and your decision, but you continued to choke and cough, to the point where you spat out blood. It was only when you tried to stop speaking did your pain end.

Qifrey stood above you, concerned and confused. There were points over the years you had known each other where he noticed this odd quirk, but this is the worst he had ever seen it.

You didn't say anything else; your throat was probably still raw from the coughing fit. Kneeling onto the ground, you beckoned Qifrey to come closer, to which he obliged. He knelt in front of you, still keeping his safe distance. You still beckoned him closer, and even with every cell of his body saying otherwise, he still listened to you.

Qifrey sat so close to you that he could see every detail about your face, from the little imperfections in your skin to the ways your eyes had dimmed, despite the sun hanging above you. Olruggio was right, you were absolutely beautiful, and he had been a fool to convince himself otherwise. Now, he would never have the chance to let you know.

"What I am about to show you, you must promise me you won't tell anyone else." Your voice was hoarse, borderline threatening in tone. It wasn't fear that had made him comply, and he didn't want to put a name to that feeling. He nodded, letting you continue.

You tipped your head back and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He thought that this was an odd position, and he was about to stand out of embarrassment, but his eyes noticed a little scar underneath your tongue. Except it wasn't little. There was symmetry and sigils to it. 

It was a magic spell etched into your skin – something that even the freshest of apprentices knew was deeply forbidden. Qifrey stared at it, taking note of the sigils that formed on your skin. He may not know much about forbidden magic, but given his knowledge, he could probably deduce what the purpose of the spell was. It was to keep you silent, and he had an idea about what.

If the Silverwood Tree inside of him was placed inside of him, it was because of the Brimmed Hats… and you had the same parasite, and there was someone who was trying to silence you…

"If you cannot verbally answer my questions, then could you nod an answer?" he asked. An affirmative nod had urged him to continue.

"Was it the Brimmed Hats?" You nodded.

"Did they wipe your memory after?" You shook your head. Why had they spared your memories but taken away his?

"Could you recount your time with them?" You shook your head again. The magic seal on your tongue was put there to keep you quiet, causing you to agonize in pain, and then to talk about your experiences. It was a shame that he wouldn't be able to use your memories.

"Where was the Silverwood Tree implanted in you?" Your hand went over your chest, where your heart was– or supposed to be. Those damned Brimmed Hats took away the heart of the most caring person that he knew. He was going to get his eye and your heart back so that you both could be whole once again.

(Your lack of emotion had started to make sense. How could anyone expect you to emote like a 'normal' person when you didn't have the function to do so. If he cannot see without an eye, it would make sense that you would not be able to feel without a heart.)

Qifrey stood up, eyes cold with rage and focus. He held his hand out for you to hold, pulling you up to your feet.

"Thank you kindly for letting me know of your secret. I promise to hold it dear in my heart, so long as you do the same with me." It warmed his heart knowing that he was the only one who knew you and granted him a sick satisfaction that he would be the only one who did. And he even knew that you would do the same for him.

"Your secret will be safe with me. But we cannot be as close as we once were," you say, an apologetic smile on your lips. He could see the remorse in your eyes and the guilt in your heart. You were right, neither of you could be in the same room together, alone and with no one with a buffer. Lest the tree sprout again, and poor Olruggio would have to lose his memories once again. The permanent ache in his heart left by your absence would at least do well to quell the comfort.

He tried to memorize your face as much as he could, not knowing when the next time he would see it would be. It was awful that he couldn't see you grow into the elegant young adult that you were born and bred to be. Nor would he be able to take you to his dream atelier in the Zozah Peninsula, far away from the nonsense of the Great Hall.

"I understand," he said, nodding solemnly. He walked back to the edge of the cliff and sat back down, waiting for Olruggio to wake up and to pretend that everything was alright. Qifrey hadn't known when you walked back to the Great Hall, just that eventually, when he turned around, there was a sign of you or that you had even come all this way.

Into the wind, he whispers a confession that his heart would never admit. He hoped that the winds would be kind and carry it all the way back to you.

(When you arrived at the edge of the forest, your path had been blocked by tangled vines. You weren't sure where they had come from, but this was no issue for you. You pulled out your little book of premade spells, finishing the seal to summon the wind and slice your way home. It did the trick, and you went on your merry way. But there was a voice in the wind from the boy you had come to care deeply for, despite every reason to not.)

春

To be plucked, nurtured, raised, and presented on a platter all for the sake of securing someone's position for the throne. To be placed beside said person and never used. To be nothing more than a tool perfected only to be abandoned before use.

Your lashes flutter as you wander around the palace, pausing to stare at the lotus in the pond, and you ponder the whereabouts of your betrothed. The wind flutters behind you as you stare pitifully at the lilypads, stepping down from the path and onto the grass to touch the water. The dress around your body is tucked behind you by a maid as your fingers brush the water, and you pause, heart rippling in your chest. Something. Anything. You have fulfilled your duty as the most ideal woman in the palace, and now you were to be wed and desired. Yet, one whom you were prepared for did not desire you.

You stay crouched by the pond, and the maids to the other palaces bustle behind you as you stare into nothing.

A quiet woman is to be desired. A gentle woman is to be adored. An obedient wife is every man's dream.

You get up after a while, and you stare at the robes on your body. Pink for the lotus flowers. You wonder how many times you have worn the dresses prepared by the late empress for her ideal daughter in law only to never have been seen by the man you were nurtured for. You hear word of your betrothed and his new maid, and you hear tales about how he desired her and approached her with all these thoughts in mind. You cannot help but wonder what you were created for prior to being picked by the empress.

The wind rustles the leaves above you as you get up, and someone bangs a pot in the background.

Somewhere, there is a rope fraying.

You step back onto the pathing, and you head off to continue wandering. You know the path, each stone and slot of wood stained with a memory that you could never erase from the back of your mind. In your palace that you are to share with your betrothed, there is something staining your fingertips and heart. In the palace of your future and past, there is a drop of your sweat on each tile and piece, each plank and pillar, every color and china. In the palace of the present, you embody everything you can touch and feel. Your skin and body lives in the palace, a shell for your hollow heart.

You wonder if your courses on decorating a house according to what is best for fengshui were helpful. What was the point of decorating a residence if your betrothed never visited you? You wonder and think, fingers swiping to check the maids' cleaning, and you leave the room to return to your tea room, enjoying a cup of tea. You plant so many flowers only to never be visited. You decorate each room to perfectly only to be never seen. You fan yourself with your hand, almost as though you were fanning such pointless thoughts away. A house is to represent its owner. It is not a shell for your hollow heart, it is an abode that will be filled with love one day.

It is an abode that will be filled with love one day, an abode that is currently hollow.

You retire for the night, and the maids leave you to rest as Jinshi enters his corner of the palace, lashes fluttering and his heart souring as he looks at you with something akin to pity. He brushes your hair to the side as he looks down at you, closing his eyes to listen to the summer breeze whisper secrets of his into his ear. The flowers blossom outside, and his shoulder sink, his head heavy as you breathe quietly without a care in the world.

His bride to be.

His wife to be.

A girl picked carefully out of a field and nurtured to be the greatest empress one day. he pities you. You will never be chosen, and it hurts him that you were promised something you could not have nor be loved by. He glances around the room at the decorations, and he hums, lips curled into a sweet smile. It's homey. It's clear you had put thorough thought into where you were told you were to spend your future with him in, but it hurts him that he would not be here with you in the future. Too selfish to throw you away, yet too selfish to fall in love with you.

His heart belongs to someone else.

So, as he slides the door shut behind him to head back to his room, he can't help but wonder what is to become of you when he finally marries someone else. Perhaps you will find yourself, or maybe you will become a shell of what you were made to be, hollow from the inside out and unsure of what to do with the rest of your life. To be a doll and to be grown all for his sake only to be never touched... Jinshi wonders if you know what you want to do if you were to have had a choice in the matter. You did not pick to be as delicate as a flower, after all.

The moon is gorgeous, just a shame that he could not make you the center of his affections.

So Jinshi leaves, wind rustling the tree you planted in your sixth year of life's branches, the lotus flowers planted recently bobbing in the water as the pond rustles from the goose lands on the water, and he closes his eyes, listening to the crickets and noticing the lights in the hallway. A maid nods at him as he passes, and the wood of the residence creaks under his feet, almost as if to warn him to stay away if he would only hurt you.

It was neither of you's choice to end up where you are.

So his only choice made will be to pick his wife.

夏

In summer, you swap the warmer blankets to silk, and you change the coloring to something brighter. It did not matter if Jinshi did not visit you. It only mattered that the residence were still run like a residence. So, the maids swap everything out as you are left to your own again, and you wear lighter clothes, drinking tea alone in your tearoom as you watch the ducks kick in the pond. The residence lacks life. You have no child as you are unmarried, and you are stuck in some sort of crossroad of destiny as you wait for your betrothed to do something.

He does not want you. You know that at the very least.

So, you spend your days drawing, brush wet against the paper as you draw, and you spend your days singing, hoping that somewhere along the lines, you would find something that made you shine in a glass cage. You are nothing if Jinshi does not treasure you. Yet, you do not speak or dare to make more of a sound whenever the maids from the other palaces drop by to request of your presence for their consorts. You are something. You are worth something. You are only worth something because you are still Jinshi's most anticipated betrothed. Yet, all the consorts know that you are not the ideal choice.

You glance at Maomao, lips spreading into a smile as you greet the consort Gyokuyou.

You have tea with her, updating her about the latest news that her maids cannot reach, and you blink at the flower in the tea, smiling apologetically as you ask if you could share another drink. Your eyes trail to her developing baby bump, and you switch topics to how her health has been lately. She tells you it has been fine. A green tea is brought in, and you press the drink to your lips as she continues talking to you.

"Ah, did you hear? Your betrothed has recently taken in a new maid."

"I know." You smile, eyes landing on Maomao. "I heard he had been making unwelcome moves on her as well."

Maomao nods.

"Well, the man's want needs to be placed somewhere." She smiles. "I do hope you take no offense in that."

You laugh. "None taken. He does not want me. I am aware of that much."

Maomao looks at you almost with pity. You do not mind, much used to the look already. Neither of you chose to end up where you currently are. You suppose the difference between her and you is that she is knowledgeable in something specifically while you are knowledgeable in everything generally. It is who you are, and it is who you were raised to be. There is no you without the title of betrothed attached to it. You will be forced to live how you were raised unless you had a reaction and changed. What is there to change in an unchanging environment? Even if you were to change, there would be no difference around you. You are born and raised to be Jinshi's wife. That is all you ever will amount to.

"Then, what do you suppose will happen?"

"The betrothal is simply a formality." You smile bitterly. "I shall simply wait for him to break it."

"He is far too selfish to let go of you."

Your gaze averts to the teapot on the table. "I know."

"Do you truly wish to stay here forever?"

There is no amount of improvement you could pour into yourself to possibly be set free from the palace. You are Jinshi's betrothed. You have been his betrothed, and you will continue to be his betrothed. You have never belonged to yourself as one would have belonged to themselves. You were simply created to be a person that was never your person. You are everything to be desired by the noble worth nothing to the people. You were groomed, grown, nurtured, and ruined for the sake of someone who would never touch you. You are a porcelain doll trapped in a wooden cage with the key around your neck.

You are worth nothing without your title of betrothed.

You have been taught to never escape even when given the chance. You are not to touch the key around your neck. For if you don't, you will be rewarded with riches beyond the comprehension of the common man. For if you don't, the boy you were coerced to crush on will look back at you for once. For if you don't, the world will be a better place all thanks to your small sacrifice. You are to hold the earth up to the sky and die in order for everyone else to live. Then, you will be remembered for the rest of your life.

You are an obedient doll on display for the dignity of the royal dynasty.

"So?"

You laugh dryly. "Where else do I have to go?"

A nameless bride from a nameless family. A dressed up doll on display.

The consort's face weakens in pity.

You can only smile bitterly at her.

There is nothing else you can do. There is no one else you can rely on. You have the key around your neck but you do not know how to use it.

That night, you return to your room, resting on your bed under the summer warmth, silk cool against your skin as the moon shimmers, stars twinkling as you grimace, heart heavy in your chest. You are not loved. You are not loved, nor chosen, nor cherished. You were picked from an empty field and nurtured to become someone you were not simply because there is never a person you were. You are put into the skin of another because you do not have your own. You will never be yourself is there was never a you to begin with. You will never know the warmth nor happiness of being your own person. All you know is to devote yourself to Jinshi.

All you know is that in a field of flowers, you will never be picked by the one you were grown for.

秋

Colored leaves detach from the branches during the season of fall. You change back to warmer blankets, clothing a little more warm, and you arrange for the incense scents to be changed to something else. The bedding becomes thicker, the colors become redder, and you watch the flowers around the residence lose life with each day. The winter is getting colder, and your heart is only further breaking, cracking ever so slightly with each creak of the wood when you step around the place. You are not loved— not by the maids, nor by your soulmate. You are not loved.

You do not have a soulmate.

It is painfully evident when you visit the noble consorts, lips curled into a sweet smile when you drink tea with them. It is painfully obvious when the emperor refuses to let you leave Jinshi when you bring it up as a joke. You are not allowed to do anything in the palace. You are handed a key as a necklace but you do not leave. You are the display at the center of a traveling performance crew. You are a doll that will never be purchased because of your value. A doll that will never be touched because you are too prideful to offer yourself to anyone who is not Jinshi.

The sun may rise and set and the stars may twinkle and sparkle, but you will never be worth anything in the eyes of Jinshi. You are worth nothing. In the eyes of the emperor, you are worth nothing. In the eyes of the other consorts, you are a pitiful child that will be inevitably thrown away. In the eyes of Maomao, you are Jinshi's unfortunate betrothed whom she wishes he would pay more attention to. In the eyes of your maids, one day Maomao will take over as the owner of the residence and you will be left behind. You do not matter in the eyes of anyone.

Somewhere in the distance, a rope frays further.

Somewhere in the distance, in another universe, in every universe, you are cursed to love and never be loved. You are forced to hold the hand of a man who does not want you. In this universe and every other one, you are stuck wallowing in self-hate, pitied for the way you are treated, despised for being the one who stands next to your husband. You are not a person. You exist only as a shell to embody other people. You will never be yourself. In every other universe and yours, you will be the shell that a hermit moves into only to be abandoned when they outgrow you. You will never be someone of value.

You call the maids to remove the tea, and you wander out into the streets of the capital.

Warm colors of red yellow and orange litter the streets with each step you take, and you purchase a quick snack, chewing on the sugar as you consider how you would need to starve yourself in order to lose the weight gained from the sugar. It makes you sick. You do all these things because you were conditioned for no outcome. You love Jinshi with your whole heart only for him to be in love with someone else. You cannot compare to her. She cannot compare to you. You are too different from her. You wonder if Jinshi simply desired a woman who could not be attained. You were too easy. Too simple. You were created and made in order to be perfect for him.

You purchase peanut treats, chewing on the treat as you watch the sun start to set.

A maid tells you it's time to go home.

You only nod.

You stare at the courtesans in the brothels, and then at your own skin. Perhaps that would be a way out. Perhaps if it were ever to come to it, you would pick that. It is not undignified. You would be sold for a good price, and you would have a rich husband. Perhaps the only downturn would be that the man would sleep with you day and night, but you wonder if that would be better than the bitter loneliness that your years of solitude have left you with. Perhaps you would be worth something in the eyes of another man if you just let go of your pride. Perhaps you would be of worth.

You are just an empty shell, after all.

You find yourself stuck in place as you blink quickly, realizing there are tears on your cheeks and splattering onto your chest. Your maid hands you a handkerchief, and you wipe them away, wiping again and again and again until the fabric is drenched and you no longer can wipe your tears. You stay like that, an anomaly in a bustling street of happy people, your emotions tucked behind your mind as your eyes form a mind of their own as you cry. You are not sad. You do not know how to feel sad. You only know how to cry. You are a doll. You should not know how to cry. You were erased of that ability years ago.

Yet, the tears do not stop, and you cry until the sun is no longer visibly, tears splattering still even when they wash you up for the day. It makes you unwell. It makes you feel sick. You should not know anything so unbecoming of a lady like this. You should not know how to cry. You should only know how to smile and wait for your betrothed to come home. You should not know how to be human. You should not know anything in this wretched world other than the happiness that being married could bring you.

So, as the maids clean you up and let you rest for the night, you dream of a happy marriage with Jinshi.

It is the only thing you know, after all.

冬

Winter comes and you dress warm. The fur rests on your shoulders as you sit down for tea with Consort Ah-Duo, wine pressed to your lips as she lets out a heavy sigh.

"It is a pleasure to receive your visit." You smile.

"Jinshi, that child, he's quite the handful, isn't he?" She gets straight to the point, mumbling. "Had I been more upfront about it, perhaps I could have stopped your demise."

You laugh, lips curled into a bashful smile as you try to hide it with your sleeve, but Ah-Duo sees right through you.

"You are hurt."

"It is hard not to be." You hum, letting your sleeve down as you stare at the drink. "But I have grown used to it."

"The residence must be empty without a master."

You shake your head. "I have grown used to it."

"I could ask the emperor to give you to me." She offers, hand held out to you.

You turn her down. Your role in this world is not to be a servant to the late consort. Your role in the world was already predestinated. It is fate for you to end up with Jinshi in every universe. "I would become a servant. That is not my role in the palace."

Ah-Duo grimaces. "Is your role to wait until Jinshi is forced to throw you away?"

You laugh, lips curled into a gentle smile this time. You do not bother hiding this one. She shakes her head in disagreement, but she does not speak up. You are stuck in your role just as she is stuck in hers. She has retired from the main palace now. You will retire from being Jinshi's betrothed when he deems it fit. You will not be the decider of your fate.

"Let us drink. I missed this."

You are her daughter just as Jinshi is her son. You are the child she watched grow up in another consort's palace, your pinky linked with Jinshi's when the two of you were scared of official events, your shoulders straightening through the years as your education furthered, until you were an undeniable presence in the royal court, your words like law, just and righteous as you argued against the old men who would stop at nothing to prove a woman like you wrong. You are her daughter the same way Jinshi is her son. You are her daughter simply because you grew up with her son.

"I did too." You press the wine to your lips, bitterness sliding down your throat as you swallow, that faux happiness dropping almost instantly. You are not a lightweight. You are trained to drink well in order to talk to guests well. You despise it. You have learned that. You have learned to despise things.

You despise yourself.

You despise the people who pity you.

You despise the maids who whisper behind your back about how you would be replaced one day.

"I do not expect you to forgive Jinshi." Ah-Duo speaks. "I would not forgive him either."

"There is no forgiving to be done. He is simply making his own choices." You nod as the maid refills your drink. "I am not a woman to be desired by him. He is the type to pick a chicken leg over an abalone. He is the type to pick a stick rather than a flower. I am simply what the late empress thought of as desirable to him but ended up not to be. I am not something that Jinshi believes is desirable in his eyes. It is that simple."

"You are desirable." The consort refutes you. "You are educated in everything there is to educate someone in. You are smarter than the majority of eunuchs and workers in the palace. You are someone who is the most desirable person there is to be. Your worth does not lie on Jinshi alone."

"That is what I have been conditioned to believe."

"It is not the truth. Ah-Duo presses the liquor to her lips. "You are just as much of a person as Jinshi is. Perhaps, because of your upbringing, you are more noble than him in antics."

"He is more noble than I." You shake your head. "He is more noble simply because his position allows for him to make his own decisions regardless of who he hurts in the process."

"You may make your own as well." She hums. "Regardless of who you hurt in the process."

"I do not know how to do that." You close your eyes, exhaling. "I am not someone with that capability. I must carry the weight of being unwanted for the dignity of the royal family. I am the doll created to keep the royal family desirable. I am an exotic flower planted in a field of domestic ones, dying to be picked, only to never be touched."

"That is a lie." Ah-Duo frowns. "You are not a doll. You are just a girl."

You laugh. "I am not just a girl."

"You are just a girl." She repeats herself, staring into your eyes. "You are a just a girl. You are a girl who does not deserve anything that is happening to her. You are a girl who was picked out of the hundreds of thousands of girls abandoned on the streets because your family could not afford to raise a girl. You are not a flower curated for the betterment of a boy who would never pick you. You are a girl, not a flower. not a doll."

Your eyes do not waver, and you break the silence with another dry laugh.

"I am a doll on display with the key around her neck." You smile. "But I thank you."

You miss the way her features soften with the pity you despise.

春

When spring comes back, you watch the merchants bring in new silk and the streets fill in with the season's specials. You pick out the fruit and ingredients for the newer dishes, testing them out after they are made, and nodding in approval for them to be tasted by the rest of the consorts. Maomao helps you compile a list of ingredients that are not healthy or safe, and you look through them. Then, you send the ingredients out to the rest of the palace alongside the supplier.

Some days, you forget that you are an existence. Some days, you forget you have influence in the palace.

"Madam, what about this one?"

You turn to Maomao, and she shakes her head.

"No." You reject right away.

You wonder what made you change your mind about Maomao. You suppose it is pity that you do not have to give. You pity her for having to put up with Jinshi. Yet, it is not something you worry about for the time being. You squat down as you take your feet out of your shoes, grimacing at the sores on your feet from the shoe size that is too small.

Maomao takes note of it, shaking her head.

"You do not bind your feet, but you force them to stop growing."

"It is no different." You smile. "Your feet remain unbound, do they?"

"They do. I have no need to bind them. Granny did not request of it either."

"That checks out." You smile. "I do not bind them but keep my shoe size small out of my own volition.

"You should stop doing that." She pauses. "Not to sound presumptuous, but shoe size does not matter to Jinshi."

You blink, eyes going wide in amusement as you laugh. "You are as straightforward as the maids warn me."

Maomao bows her head in apology.

"Don't worry about it." You smile. "You are to be the lady of this residence soon, after all."

"I do not wish to." She shudders. "Ever since he... I do hope he regains interest in you."

"There is no way he was interested in me in the beginning." You hum. "It is really that simple."

"You have stopped deluding yourself—" Maomao slaps a hand over her mouth. "Apologies."

You laugh more, lips pulled into a wide laugh. "I quite like you."

She blinks at you cattily. "Please do not."

You shrug. "I understand why Jinshi would find you entertaining. I heard he proposed to you. One of the maids overheard it."

"I do not want him, if that soothes you. It is an honest statement as well." Maomao nods.

"I know that much." You hum. "Unfortunately, men in power tend to coerce women for their gain. If you do not wish for it, you may always let me know. I hold little power over Jinshi, but I hold heavy power over the words heard by these walls."

"You are powerful." She points out. "Yet you are so empty."

"So I've been told." You hum. "Those go over there. Keep that one away from the pure consort. She is unable to have those."

"Yes madam."

"Is there a reason you lack?"

"I do not know how to be anything but empty." You shake your head. "It is one of the many reasons Jinshi does not desire me."

"I believe he seems parts of you in me."

"No." You reject the idea near immediately. "We are not similar to that degree. Jinshi does not have the brain to think of us in that way. He is better than his father."

"The late emperor."

"The dead one."

Maomao shudders. "Children."

"Those poor children." You snort. "I was almost one of them."

"You are not that old."

"The late emperor saw me in the same way he saw the late empress. He was on his last years when the late empress took me in and raise me beside Jinshi." You shake your head. "Had I been born just a little earlier, I would have been sent in as a poor girl to be defiled by the emperor."

Maomao grimaces. "Did you fall in love with Jinshi at first sight?"

"No. I had just been taught that the only man I should look at is Jinshi." You hum. "Halt. What is that?"

The merchant shows you the signed form and hands you a sample, and you frown at the taste, handing the other half to Maomao.

"No."

"You heard her. No." You wave the merchant off, and he gasps, frown on his face.

"It is incredible." Maomao looks at the guards drag the man away. "A single word from you is the equivalent of a royal decree."

"The late empress had this power bestowed on me, after all." You mumble. "I am not someone who has ever had power that belonged to me."

"Can you eat poison?"

"The vast majority of them." You hum. "I was fed them while growing up."

"You seem to be everything at once. You are constituted with all the knowledge there is to offer, yet you are empty inside."

"I am composed of materialistic things." You hum. "I am composed of knowledge. I am the closest thing to perfection, I suppose. Whatever that means."

"A subjective perfection of the late empress regnant."

"Yes." You laugh. "I am a shell created to hold things. I am not constituted of anything that makes a person a person."

"Other than the physical features, I suppose." Maomao mumbles. "Yet, you are quite the enigma. You have a personality and something. You are like a dam that is waiting to explode. You are a pot of medicine simmering, waiting to boil over and become what you need to be. Ah. My apologies. I must have come off as rude."

You shake your head, lips in a smile. "So? Did you understand what to do?"

"I did." She nods. "My greatest appreciations for you for showing me. I hope I never have to take over this position."

You only laugh.

That is inevitable. The pin had already been passed on to her, after all.

But as your eyes trail to her and then to yourself, you wonder. Perhaps the two of you are just parallels of each other.

Maybe you are.

Who knows.

夏

In summer, you see Maomao again, going for tea with consort Gyokuyou.

"I missed you." She smiles. "Sit."

"How is the baby?"

"Good." She nods. "Ah. Your shoes have changed."

You smile. "You can thank your maid for that."

"They must be much more comfortable."

"Yes." You nod. "I will never be desired by Jinshi, yet he will never throw me away, so I may as well give myself a little more leeway."

"That is good. "She smiles. "The new dish you approved for eating was delicious, for your reference."

"I'm glad." You smile. "Maomao helped make that one."

"Oh, really? I am so lucky to have such a capable maid next to me." She giggles.

"Yeah." You hum, lips curled into a smile. "She's great. I'm sure she'd make for a great lady of the house."

"Are you to leave?"

"You heard of the proposal, yes?"

She doesn't react, but that itself is an answer.

"It is only a matter of time." You hum.

"I speak for all the consorts, but we will miss you."

"Thank you." You smile pitifully. "I am grateful for your care over the years."

"We are grateful for your management." She smiles. "So? Have you planned for where to go?"

"The streets." You wink at her, laughing.

She does not reciprocate, and you stop your laughter, eyes closed and lips pulled into a smile as you hum. "It's a secret. Though, I will be around."

"Will you?"

"You will see me in the trees, the breeze, and the wheat." You hum. "I will be in the wind, the sky, the clouds. You will see traces of me everywhere, simply because my blood and sweat has been poured into the imperial palace."

"Perhaps it is time for you to be freed." She hums, lips pulled into a smile. "A journey for the self."

"Rather than that." You hum. "Perhaps it is simply time to let go of Jinshi."

"Does the empress still haunt you?"

"No." You hum. "I am slowly unlearning the need for a husband."

"Then you will become a courtesan?"

"Perhaps I shall simply be employed as a maid instead." You mumble. "I would not be against such."

"Dress as a man and become an assistant." She laughs.

You smile. "Perhaps that is my new role in this narrative."

"Or, perhaps it is simply time for you to be freed from the grasps of the palace." She smiles. "Please take care of yourself."

"I will. After all, I am still a doll for the royal family."

"Darling. You are just a girl."

You do not answer to it this time.

秋

In fall, you have tea with Maomao.

The two of you sit in your tearoom with snacks, and she looks around anxiously, almost as if she were worried about something pouncing on her.

"There have been more assassination attempts on Jinshi lately." She mumbles.

"And you?"

"and I." She mumbles. "I do not understand why."

"Perhaps the emperor is making a move." You hum. "Or perhaps it is one of the consorts."

"I do not know." Maomao mumbles. "It is almost as if it were the calm before the storm."

You hum. "There is a storm brewing, alright."

An arrow pierces through the window as you knock the tea to the ground to hide Maomao with your body. Another one misses you narrowly, and you reach for the blanket on the bed, thick with cotton and warmth as it stops the arrow. Maomao stares up at you, heart racing in her chest, expression unchanging. This is what she meant. You are a force to be reckoned with. You possess the knowledge far beyond the abilities of the average consort, yet you are not acknowledged simply because the one to acknowledge you does not do so. You reach behind her for the sword under the bed, unsheathing it with ease as you slide out of the blanket, jumping out the window to chase after the assassin.

You are everything at once.

Your footsteps are light with each jump, and you swing from the branches as you knock him onto the ground, sword pressed to his neck, slicing through clean as you land with a thud in the pond. The ducks fly away as you land, water all over your robes, the blood from the decapitation bleeding into the water. The water stains your dress red from the blood, and you pant above him, pulling the sword away as you stand up to run a hand through your hair. The sun burns against your back as you throw your head back to breathe, eyes closed as Maomao's footsteps catch up to you.

"Are you injured?"

"No." You shake your head, showing her your hands. "though, these are roughed up."

"I will prepare ointment." She nods.

"Madam!" The maids yell. "Are you alright?!"

"Fine." You nod. "Fetch a change of clothes."

"We shall prepare it. Do you need to be bathed?"

"No." You shake your head. "No need. Perhaps just wash my feet."

They nod, and you hold your hand out for Maomao to apply ointment.

"Maomao!" Jinshi calls. "There you are! What are you doing here?"

You glance at him, nodding, head held down as he excuses you.

"Your sleeves are bloodied!" He reaches for her wrists, and she pulls away with a harsh tug.

"An assassin was after me." Maomao continues sliding the balm against your palm. "Your betrothed saved me."

"...thank you." Jinshi nods at you.

"You owe me one now." You nudge Maomao with a raise of your brows. "Better find a way to pay me back."

"I'll let you marry Jinshi." She deadpans, shuddering.

"Maomao!" Jinshi's jaw drops in hurt.

You laugh. "He won't let me marry him."

"Tsk. Worth a try." Maomao grumbles.

"Madam! The clothes!"

You nod in response, smiling as Maomao is taken away once the maids pull you to rid you of the blood.

You do not despise Maomao, but you do not deserve that lack of attention that Jinshi gives you either.

You are just a girl. You do not deserve this.

冬

Jinshi talks to you this time.

He comes to the residence after being ordered to by the emperor, and he stares at you with your sleeves rolled up in the winter snow arranging the flowers. He does not know what to feel for you. You are his betrothed whom he does not visit, but he is your betrothed whom you do not talk to first. Perhaps it is simply excuses on his end. You do not know what he would think, after all. He was clearly in love with Maomao.

"You could have a gardener tend to such flowers." Jinshi speaks up, and you jump in your skin, visibly surprised to see him in the residence.

"J-Jinshi." You mumble, eyes wide.

"You are dirtying your clothes." He mumbles.

"Is it despicable?" You look up at him, eyes tired.

"It is foreign." He whispers back. "Though, it is not unwelcome."

"I see." You go back to the plants, tending to the roses.

"The emperor... is requesting the two of us for tea."

"I figured you have come for something and not for me." You stand up, dusting off your dress as Jinshi offers his hand to help you back onto the pathing.

You do not take it.

"What have you been up to?"

Jinshi tries to make small talk. You chuckle.

"Not much. I have only been tending to the plants in the garden."

"What about the rooms?"

"They have been filled with warm blankets for the winter." You hum. "The lanterns are all lit since it would be darker earlier in the day, and the walls have been repainted for the season."

"I see." He pauses. "And the salaries of the maids?"

"I have already taught Maomao. Fear not." You glance at the passing maids whisper to one another about you. "When will you be announcing it?"

"I will not be announcing it." He shakes his head. "Once my position is stable, then I will announce it."

"I see." You hear something rustle in the distance, choosing to ignore it as the two of you stop before the emperor's tearoom.

"Announcing the arrival of the second prince and his betrothed!"

"Enter." The emperor speaks from the inside.

The two of you step into the room, bowing to the emperor as he orders for you both to rise.

"Princess." he nods at you. "You have grown yet again."

You nod back. "I have."

"It is great to see." He nods. "Take a seat."

The both of you sit as the doors are shut, and you wait for the emperor to drink his tea.

"Did Jinshi tell you what we are discussing?"

"No." You shake your head.

"Jinshi wishes to marry Maomao." The emperor addresses the problem immediately, and you are reminded of Lady Ah-Duo.

"I am aware." You hum.

"Yet, he does not wish to break off your engagement."

"I am not as open minded to accept a second wife despite the allowance of a harem for the royal family." You chuckle dryly. "Besides. Jinshi only wishes for Maomao to be his wife."

"Yes. I only wish to be wed to Maomao."

"Well, Jinshi." The emperor sighs. "It's a shame, but we cannot break off your engagement to..."

"I am aware."

You hear something rustle again, and a flurry of footsteps rush outside of the door.

The servant yells.

"Maomao has been kidnapped!"

Somewhere in the distance, a rope snaps.

You are a girl You are just a girl You are just... a girl.

You get up and apologize for Jinshi's behavior as he runs out of the room to grab the servant to ask for details, and the emperor shakes his head. You hand Jinshi the seal of his army to him from your pocket, and you watch as he rushes off without a thank you. You stare at him bitterly and miss the way he turns back to look at you. Instead, you turn back to see the emperor staring at you pitifully, and you nod as you call for a maid to bring you into the bathhouse. You need a massage and a break. You need a moment to yourself. You need to relax. Your blood pressure was rising and you were struggling to gauge your importance.

You can say you know Jinshi does not care all you want, but living it is still a different experience.

So, as the maids leave you alone in the bathhouse, you cry, hurricane of tears breaking past your eyes as you cry into the bathwater, years of pain and anguish ricocheting off the walls as the birds outside the bathhouse fly away from your heartbreak. You are just a girl. Why does it have to be you? You are just a girl. You are a girl with no background or home or past but you are just a girl and you should not have to let the world be carried on your back just because you are a girl. You should not be defined by the feelings of a man who does not care about you. You are a girl. You are a simple girl who does not deserve anything that is happening to you.

You are a girl who was stolen from her family because the royal family desired a perfect empress. You are a girl who should not have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders just because she was unfortunate enough to be picked for a job that did not suit her. Why did you have to be the one who has to fall in love with a man who does not love you back and be stuck being in love with him? He does not want you. He has made that clear enough. It does not matter if he would turn around to look at you one day. You would never be picked first.

You are just a girl.

You do not deserve any of this.

So, you stand up in the bathwater as it splashes with your movement, and you rearrange your robes into something moveable before you break past the doors of the bathhouse, footsteps heavy and undignified as you run through the pathing that you've stained with your sweat and love, past the gates that had welcomed you since birth, and you run, wind in your hair icing your scalp in the summer breeze, panting and gasping for air as you run through the streets and cry, losing a shoe on the way, tears still spilling past your eyes, mouth open to breathe, ignoring all the weird looks from the people on the streets as you run into the pathing in the forest and leave. You are free.

Free from the cage you had been locked in since birth, key left behind on the door as you end up somewhere you know will be better.

It does not matter to you anymore.

You are free.

冬

Jinshi does not know what prompts him to visit you when he returns with Maomao. Perhaps it was because of the pain on your face when he had run away from you in order to go save Maomao. Perhaps it had been the realization while saving Maomao that you had given him one of the only powers you held over him without hesitation. Perhaps you had just handed it to him because you wanted him to see you once he returned. Regardless of your mission, he visits you.

When Jinshi steps foot into your residence after saving Maomao, your maids are rushing around the palace yelling at one another.

"Jinshi-sama!" A maid catches him, grabbing onto his armor in a panicked state as he blinks down at her in surprise.

"What?"

"Do you know where the young madam went?!" She cries, genuine fear and worry leaking all over her face as her cheeks are red from the cold and running around. "We've been searching all over for her since she disappeared from the bathhouse while we weren't looking! She's been missing since your leaving, and we assumed that she would return since she had been visiting the streets more and more often and perhaps had gone to visit her parents' graves, but it has been long and she still has not returned! Do you know where she could be?!"

Jinshi furrows his brows.

Missing. You're missing. You are missing.

You, who did not step foot outside of the residence unless it was to have tea with the consorts, was missing.

"I do not know." Jinshi shakes his head. "Where does she frequent in the streets?"

"We sent maids, but they—"

"We finally found the madam's shoe!" A maid yells from the entrance, holding up something in her hand. "Come!"

The maids all crowd around her as she reveals your shoe, and Jinshi grimaces.

It is your shoe. Your shoe, muddied, bloodied, wet with water. Your shoe, that was typically a size too small.

The maids all grimace at the sight, staring up at Jinshi for confirmation.

"Keep searching. She must be there somewhere." He turns away, brows furrowed. "She could not have gotten very far. She has been nurtured by the palace, so surely she is somewhere within reach."

The maids scramble to look, the sun turning it morning, Jinshi searching with them, quietly praying that you would return once the sun did. The sun returns once, twice, and then too many to count with his hands. The sun returns time and time again, and you do not.

You do not, and the maids sent to the streets also come back with no avail.

Even with Maomao asking the lower-ranked maids, you do not return.

You are gone.

Whether it is you have passed or you are missing, it makes no difference.

You are gone.

"I shall prepare for her ceremony." He closes his eyes, brows furrowing.

That is all they need to hear.

春

You haunt every corner of Jinshi's life.

He moves into the residence you left behind shortly after your burial ceremony, and he brings everything with him. He touches nothing you arranged, only bringing his personal items and work, and he sits in your tearoom each afternoon to work on the papers handed to him by the emperor. He drinks your favorite tea because he finds himself slowly losing his sanity with each passing moment that you do not manage the residence.

He is fully capable, but he is just not as well-versed in it as you are.

It drains him more than he'd like. Maomao is still a maid despite the purchase of her as a consort, and he does not wish to overwhelm her. He still very much loves her, he believes, but he supposes losing a huge part of his childhood is even worse in some way. He had chosen to neglect you, but it did not mean he did not cherish you. He could not count the times when you had linked pinkies with him at formal events with the emperor and empress while the two of you stood tall all because you were to be a certain way at a certain place.

Eventually, the two of you had outgrown the need to hold hands or pinkies in official events.

Though, that wasn't the only thing he had to thank you for. He was not a gifted child. He watched you speed through the materials and still have time to play with him, and it made him bitter. He was bitter. You had always been groomed to be perfect and desirable, and it only made him despise you more. Perhaps he had avoided you because you were too put together and perfect. He did not despise you. He does not despise you. In fact, dare he say it, he might have even loved you and forced himself to bury it away.

He could not love you the way you deserved to be loved. You deserved the position of empress, not the position of a eunuch's wife. You did not deserve to be warped into the madness of the royal family in the way that you did. He had made the mistake with you, so he would not make the mistake with Maomao. His heart sours in his chest. Perhaps he had been a liar. He had only avoided you to avoid the pain in his heart. He had been a coward afraid of hurting you only to hurt you more. He is a coward.

He groans, head buried in his papers as Maomao comes in with his dinner.

"You look awful."

Jinshi shifts his head to the side to look at Maomao, closing his eyes again afterward. Her filter around him had disappeared ever since you had left. He does not know if he is thankful or not.

Things have changed since your disappearance.

The maids have all stopped referring to anyone as the madam of the house, only waiting for Maomao to officially give Jinshi an answer to his proposal, and Jinshi has become the master of the house, much different to when they referred to him as Jinshi-sama. He is no longer someone underneath you in the residence that he was to live in with you. He is now the only person who was given a proper status in a palace of such. He groans when he remembers that he has more paperwork. Perhaps you should have been given less to do in the residence.

"Still no news?" He grumbles.

"No." Maomao hums. "She would hate you if you starved yourself like this."

"She did not even know I skipped meals occasionally."

"She did." Maomao refutes. "All of your meals were looked over by her. Your meals had the highest nutrition out of all the meals."

"She did not do that." Jinshi sighs, getting out of your desk to sit at the table. "She did not do that for me."

"She did." Maomao sets the food before him. "It could have only been her. She was the one who let things in and out of the kitchen. She had your allergies memorized like the back of her hand."

"I was such an asshole to her." Jinshi groans.

"You were."

"You're supposed to comfort me as my betrothed!" Jinshi cries.

"I am not your betrothed." Maomao shrugs. "Please get back to work once you finish eating. Gaoshun is asking when this month's report will be ready."

"Please tell him his master is going to kill himself." Jinshi groans. "I can't even bring in an aide because this residence is so secretive."

"I may introduce someone to you." Maomao offers.

"You know people other than me? It cannot be a woman."

"It will not be." Maomao affirms.

Jinshi contemplates it. You had been bred and raised for the purpose of being an ideal wife, so you managed all the numbers and reports of your shared residence despite Jinshi being in charge of a handful of matters. They seemed trivial to him back then, but now that he has to wait for those numbers to reach him, he finds that perhaps you were going through much more than you letting him know about. Not even the maids would tell him how often you were holed up in your office.

Though, according to your maids, you had barely struggled with it, your estimations always on point, even when Jinshi handed you bills late.

For you to be so much better than Jinshi.

How infuriating of you.

夏

"Jinshi." Maomao speaks from the door. "I have brought a eunuch as your new assistant."

"I do not need one." He grumbles. "I am fine on my own."

"No. He is to help manage the estate." Maomao doesn't let him argue, opening the door to reveal his new aide.

The man nods at him, bowing his head. "I greet my new master. My name is Diu."

"There is no need for that." He shakes his head. "Are you well versed in the matters of the house?"

"There is no person who is better versed than I am." He nods. "I assure you."

Jinshi sighs. "Training shall start tomorrow."

"Yes, master."

Jinshi finds that his new aide is just as quick with numbers and things of the residence as you were, fingers fast and calculations smooth, speeding up the process for Jinshi. When he asks how he knew, he smiles at him, telling him that he had helped his wife with her household matters in order to alleviate the stress of being pregnant. Jinshi doesn't pry, but his aide looks too young to be a man capable of such wise thought. He looks too delicate, jaw too smooth and lashes too long. Had Jinshi been any more manic, he might have accused his aide of actually being a woman.

He tilts his head as he watches his aide look over the papers and speak up.

"Master Jinshi, do you have the scroll for the reimbursement report?"

Jinshi nods, handing him the scroll as Diu scribbles down the numbers, handing it to Maomao with a nod as she wanders off to hand it off to another official.

"Please call for me when the next report is due." Diu nods, about to follow her out.

"Are you not a personal aide?"

"I was told by Sister Maomao that I am only to help with the matters of the mansion."

"You... should arrange the guest rooms." Jinshi grumbles. "Please. Are you well versed in the other matters of the house?"

"I am." Diu nods. "Leave the matters of the estate to me."

"Maomao." Jinshi calls for her as she appears at the door. "Diu will be helping you with the affairs of decorating."

She nods. "Shall we go?"

"We shall." Diu smiles, and Jinshi's stomach churns uncomfortably.

He smiles the same way you do.

How nauseating.

How long had it been since you had smiled at him? You had only smiled at Maomao, lips curled into a teasing one, never staring at Jinshi when you had. Perhaps that was his flaw. He was cursed to see parts of you in other people until he could own up to his own emotions. Perhaps he was much too similar to you. Perhaps he is just a boy. Perhaps he just misses what you could have been had he spoken to you. Perhaps he should have reminded you that you were not alone.

You left him, but he forced you to the door, giving you the key you had been taught to never use.

Perhaps he had been the push to force you to leave.

How sickening.

秋

Jinshi finds that Maomao gets along with Diu much more than makes him comfortable.

Maomao discusses and lingers around Diu often, fingers brushing his skin as he leans down to let her wipe the fallen lash from his cheek, a flirty smile on his lips when she pulls away. Maomao does not react. She never does. Yet, it makes Jinshi uncomfortable. He no longer knows if it's how eerily similar Diu is to you or how Diu keeps making a move on Maomao, but it makes his skin crawl uncomfortably each time he comes to Maomao's aide, reprimanding you and reminding you to keep your hands off of her as she was his only love.

"My apologies."

It is the same thing over and over again.

Jinshi finds that the more Diu flirts with Maomao, the less he wants Maomao, his jealous streak overtaken by habituation, and eventually he finds himself just staring until the two are uncomfortable. Maomao seems far too comfortable with Diu's movements, and Jinshi finds it infuriating. So, Jinshi steps in one day, pulling on Diu's wrist as he cages Maomao into the wall.

"Perhaps the master would prefer for me to romance him instead?" Diu pins Jinshi to the wall instead, tilting his head with his fingers, lips curled into a teasing smile. Jinshi flushes red, a shudder rippling down his back at the sight of the shorter pining him to the wall. Maomao watches from the side in amusement, lips curled upward with a cheeky grin as Jinshi eyes her for help.

"My eyes are here, young master," Diu tilts his head again, lips curled into a sweet smile. "Cheating on me already? I'm your servant before I am hers, you know?"

Jinshi shudders, cheeks red as Diu turn to Maomao, a victorious smile on his face.

"Master, it is time for..." Gaoshun trails off, pulling Diu off of Jinshi. "What are you doing?!"

"The master got jealous I was hitting on Maomao." Diu smiles.

Jinshi leaves, glancing behind him at Diu, heart racing in his chest as he tries to calm his cheeks. He is breathtaking, that eunuch. His aide has a beauty that could rival his. He would stop interfering. If he were to get hit on again... heavens knows what kind of atrocities he would commit. Diu is too strong. No wonder the maids in the palace had been flocking to get a look at his face. Maybe that was why he was dethroned as one of the most attractive men in the court. Diu was simply too attractive for his own good.

God, maybe he is a homosexual.

The thought rips through his body as his lips pull down in concern, blinking slowly at the revelation. Damn. Has he stooped this low? Was he willing to go so low as to fall for a man who reminded him of you? Maybe Jinshi was losing his mind. Perhaps this is what the matchmaker meant by he would suffer greatly if he were to lose his yin. He had tried not to touch you, but he had only hurt you instead. He was losing his mind to the point that he was getting flustered over men.

Diu really does things to him. You do things to him.

The man's fingers remind Jinshi of yours as well, reminders of years that are lost in his memory, years when the two of you would hold hands under tables and before the empress, years when he would watch you practice dances with your teachers, hair fluttering in the wind as you moved like a princess. It reminds him of years when you would be able to fit in your shoe size and walk without pain, when you were still young and a child, crying about not wanting to bind your feet.

You got your wish, but your shoe size had still been shrunk one size down to try and prevent your feet from growing.

Sooner than later, you lost your ability to dance.

Jinshi wonders if Diu would be able to do it. His body is slim enough for the dance, and had he been there when the foreign envoys were visiting, perhaps he could have taken Jinshi's place. Swimming in the dress was a nightmare. Perhaps Diu could have worked the same. He has the face for it. Oh, how convenient. Jinshi would no longer need to dress up as a woman with Diu around.

"The next time we have to do female imitation... we are calling Diu." Jinshi shudders.

Gaoshun raises a brow.

Jinshi shakes his head.

Perhaps if Jinshi were desperate enough, he could doll Diu up to resemble you and hold him for the night. As long as the words did not get out, he would be alright. If he were desperate enough, he would sleep in your room, covered by your blanket, engulfed by your faded scent. The scent of summer flowers and a young love. If Jinshi were desperate enough, he could send more soldiers to find you. But Jinshi is not desperate enough.

Not yet. He is not desperate enough yet.

He may be sick to his head thinking about you, but he is not desperate.

冬

There is a crowd of consorts outside of Jinshi's window.

No. Not for him, surprisingly. For Diu.

"Diu-sama!! Look our way!!" The women yell, and Diu looks up from his desk, a smile on his face, waving gently. Both Jinshi and Maomao grimace, frown on their faces at his friendliness. Jinshi finds that Diu has an effect worse than he does. Perhaps this is his karma for playing along with the consorts every now and then. No wonder Maomao found him infuriating when he did so.

"Diu." Maomao hisses.

The man nods, leaning out the window to smile at the women, sighing. "Do you mind giving us some space? We need to finish the report for this month and my master is having quite the moment, you know?"

A girl faints, but the rest of them ultimately scatter off, and you hum, shutting the window.

"The total has been written down."

Maomao hands Jinshi a scroll, and Jinshi nods.

"Diu, is there a reason you never write the reports?"

"Whatever do you mean? I wrote them during summer, no?" You tilt your head. "Master Jinshi, you told me to stop writing them because my writing was not legible."

Jinshi does not remember that, but doesn't argue.

"Let's go for a break today." You pull Maomao out of her seat, smiling at Jinshi. "Master, will you be joining us?"

Jinshi groans. "please."

Diu offer him a hand, and he takes it, his hand strangely familiar in his grasp. It makes him feel nostalgic, almost. It feels like when he used to hold your hand during ceremonies with the royal court. Yet, he is not you. Diu is not you. So, Jinshi pushes the feelings back as he is led through the streets, lights vibrant as he stops at stalls for snacks and food.

Maomao runs out of coins at one point, and Diu offers him more, but she shakes head. She has some things she could trade for coins. She does so, pulling a pin out of her pocket and exchanging it for a bag of coins, a grin on his face. "let's get going."

"What do you even need so many coins for?" Diu raises a brow, picking one up.

"Master doesn't have copper coins."

"Excuse you! I do!" Jinshi tries to argue.

"It's why he has not yet bought anything."

Diu purses his lips in amusement, laughing.

Jinshi thinks he sounds like bells ringing.

How nostalgic.

Almost as if you were there standing there before him. He misses you, perhaps. He misses what the two of you were, and what you could have been had he picked you first. The guilt eats at him more and more, and it seems as though he could open his mouth and confess that he had a burning desire for you. It was almost as if he could have picked you from the start and none of this would have occurred.

"Diu." Jinshi calls. "Are you married?"

"Why? In love with me already, master?" Diu winks, blowing him a kiss.

Jinshi shudders, cheeks red, head ringing. Flirt.

"No. You have the same mannerisms as someone, and many say that a husband resembles his wife." Jinshi shakes his head. "You remind me of someone."

"The one that got away? I will be." Diu laughs as Maomao grabs him and runs off as Jinshi chases them. "Perhaps that is simply my role in this narrative!"

You.

Diu reminds him of you. So Jinshi finds it ironic that he chases after a man who resembles you in the streets of the city outside of the palace walls. Perhaps the two of you would have done something similar in another universe. He would have chased you in the streets, and the two of you would have been free to do whatever without the weight of the palace. Perhaps you would have been worth more in your own eyes, and he would have cared more for you during the time you would have been with him.

Perhaps you would have chosen to stay with him in that universe.

Perhaps he would be less bitter then, too.

春

In spring, the silkworms produce new silk, and the products from the merchants come in. Jinshi observes them, ultimately unable to tell the difference between certain ones because of his lack of practice, and Maomao can only stand and blink, unused to picking them herself. Instead, she steps back for Diu to look at them, the man's fingers feeling at the fabric as he raises a brow.

"These seem to be cheap quality. Are you trying to rip off the palace?" The man raises a brow.

"N-no way!"

"The threading is different one from the one currently present." Diu clicks his tongue. "This is the one commonly used for the middle class."

"A-are you not middle class? The funds mentioned to me a-are less than before." The merchant cowers slightly as Maomao hands Diu the invoice.

"No. The funding has not changed this season."

"Ah, well, surely the inflation has—"

"Nope. The economic state of the capital has not changed either. If you want a couple extra coins just say it." Diu groans. "We can always change suppliers. My family has quite the good one, you know?"

The merchant rolls his eyes. "These are the same blankets as the rest of the palace. If you don't want them—"

Maomao steps up. "The empress uses different ones from a different supplier. Had we needed low-quality textiles as this, we would have talked to the maids."

The merchant scoffs in offense. "What do you know—"

"I know that the palace uses a different supplier because you started cheating the main palace years ago." Diu speaks up, stepping close to the merchant. "Would you like us to switch too? We could formally decree you to be banned from the palace."

"Y-you're a mere servant. You wouldn't dare!"

Diu gives the man a closed-eye smile, and he grumbles, handing over the better blankets buried under the bad ones. The servants bring them in as Diu handles the money, and Jinshi blinks in surprise. He did not know the rest of the palace started using a new supplier. He had only known that Gyokuyou had changed merchants. Diu must have done very thorough research prior to picking up blankets.

"How could you tell?" Jinshi raises a brow.

"It wasn't imperfectly perfect." Diu shrugs. "Also, hand woven silk by the skilled is bound to have flaws, but this one had too many. They may have flaws, but their edges do not fray to this extent."

"Wow." Jinshi hums. "That is impressive."

"In order to be a husband deserving of my wife's noble title, I have to make up in other ways."

"Does your wife not have brothers?"

"No, she simply fell for my charm." Diu winks.

Maomao gags from the side. Though... not surprising.

"A shame you are a eunuch..." Jinshi trails off, eyes wandering. "You seem to be the type to have many sons."

Diu holds a hand over his mouth and his crotch, pretending to be scandalized. "Master! Are you... into me?"

"Nope." Jinshi turns on his heel. "Let us go."

"Where to?" Maomao follows anyway, shrugging when Jinshi doesn't answer Diu's question.

"Who did you hear palace affairs from?"

"I was wandering." Diu shrugs.

It's suspicious, but Jinshi doesn't pry further. After all, Maomao brought him in.

No matter how much Diu is suspicious, Jinshi could never bring you back anyway.

So even if Jinshi begged and sobbed and cried to the moon to return his lover, he could not have it. You had left him. You were gone. No matter how hard he looked, your body could be out in the cold and abandoned, eaten by the wolves or some other sort. It is awful. He could search all he wanted, sending all the guards he wanted, but he would not have you back. He could not live in such a way. You were gone, only your shoe left.

Perhaps Diu was sent by the heavens to remind him of you for the rest of his days.

It is his fault, after all.

夏

There are reports of your ghost haunting the walls.

First, one of the younger ranking maids hear a girl crying in your old room, then an older maid sees a woman rush through the halls at night. Eventually Gaoshun spots a woman clothed in white dancing on the outer walls with Maomao. It is truly a terrifying sight. Jinshi tries his best to ignore it, but ultimate he sees you dancing on the outer walls of the palace as well. It is same position of the moon when Gaoshun and Maomao saw it, but you are dressed in red this time, wedding gown fluttering from your figure, phoenix crown pinned in your hair.

Jinshi stands and stares.

You dance, footsteps light as they used to be when you were but a child and Jinshi watched you in your classes, and your dress flutters in the wind, silk probably cool against your skin, and Jinshi stops to stare, some wretched form of longing on his face. It is nostalgic. It is everything he had once seen in you, your art, your beauty, your existence, all tucked into the back of his mind, threatening to spill over and ruin him. He watches you as you make the same steps you had so many years ago, your memory burning into his mind through his eyes as his conscious forces him to engrain every detail of your ghost into his mind.

The paleness of your skin to the sunken eyelids, to the bloody red that was on your lips with the red on your body. The makeup is fitting of a bride, yet the moon shining behind your body makes you look a mixture of grief and regret in Jinshi's eyes. You do not look down at him, almost as though lost in your own dance, too enthralled with the moon and its secrets as you kick your leg to spin and flutter through the air. Jinshi can do nothing as he look sup at you, exhaustion creeping up his body slowly, almost as though you were the moon herself despite the red on your body.

Your ghost is haunting him as a reminder that you are his wife. Your ghost is dancing to remind him of the day the two of you had been told to bed, but had not. Your ghost is driving him into a corner the same way he had driven you out the entrance. His mind is stuck staring and engraving it into his mind to forever regret you. His mind is stuck holding his chin up to stare at you as the metal in your hair jingles in the wind. His mind is stuck, and he refuses to fight against it.

Instead of stopping you, he stares, fingers stuck to his side as you spin and fall off the wall, and he climbs up, lashes fluttering as he stares down at where you would have fallen, only your dress remaining. He stares down, legs hanging from the wall, something pulling him to fall down with you, something urging him to leave with you. Your ghost tilts its head to run your fingers through his hair, lips brushing his as it urges him to fall down with it— fall down with you. Maybe that would be a way to right his wrongs and wash away his sins. He leans forward into your touch, fingers loosening on the wall.

"Master." Diu's voice breaks him from your trance, the man climbing up the wall after him. "Is something wrong?"

Jinshi blinks at where your ghost was, your fingers no longer on his cheek and your lips no longer brushing his. Ghosts do not exist. He was simply falling to an evil spirit's intentions. Diu had simply freed him. You would not have wanted him to pass away as easily as this. You would have wanted him to suffer through what you did. "I saw the madam."

"The previous owner of the residence?"

"Something like that." Jinshi mumbles. "Do you miss your wife?"

"More often than not." Diu sits next to the man, pulling out a bottle. "Wine?"

Jinshi accepts it, pressing the wine to his lips, legs hanging over the railing as he stares down, blinking slowly at the fabric. Your ghost is gone, yet the fabric still reaches for him. He could see you wearing it. Perhaps it was just a heavy memory of seeing you in all red, gold embroidery on your gown, lips pulled into a sweet smile despite the ever crumbling relationship that was threatening to snap between the two of you. Perhaps Jinshi had a rope somewhere as well.

"How do you cope with missing your wife?"

"She writes me letters." Diu smiles. "I simply reread them when I get lonely. Or, I send a bird for her."

Jinshi grumbles. "Must be nice to have a loving wife."

"A happy marriage goes both ways, master." Diu offers him more. "You must take care of your wife before she takes care of herself and leaves you."

"Do you think someone is doing this to mess with me?" Jinshi rests his cheek on his legs, pulling them closer to his chest as he holds his cup to the man. "I grieve for her loss. Is that not enough?"

"Perhaps they simply miss their madam." Diu hums. "Did the madam teach the servants?"

"There is no servant in the house who could dance the same way she did." Jinshi closes his eyes, wind rustling the branches behind him. The summer breeze is warm but not too warm. In the distance, in the residence, he can still hear the sound of your laughter as a child. You did not laugh enough as an adult around him. He does not know what you are. What does your laughter sound like now? Maybe you stopped laughing because of him.

He misses you.

"Master?"

"Diu." Jinshi mumbles, eyes closed. "If she comes, please wake me."

"Will do, master."

You never return after that, and Jinshi feels sick.

秋

In fall, foreign envoys bring new mirrors. Diu accepts them and lead them to Jinshi, lips curled into a sweet smile as the mirrors are placed within the residences. The old mirrors had been ruined by a maid on accident, but it was not something worth fretting or worrying over. Jinshi stands in front of the mirror, looking at himself, raising a brow when Maomao and Diu peer from behind him at the reflection.

"I have not seen one in a solid minute." Maomao mumbles. "Diu, how about you?"

"My wife has one at home, but this small mirror would be helpful." Diu hums. "She will like it if we have a covering made for her as well."

Jinshi huffs dramatically loud at the word wife.

"What is not too light?" Maomao raises a brow.

"Perhaps a hollow metal." Diu hums. "I shall check the items she owns."

Jinshi huffs again.

"Sorry, master." Diu smiles, eyes closed, teeth out. "I forgot the madam is gone."

Jinshi is going to have an aneurysm because of Diu.

"I am convinced you are mentioning your wife to drive me insane."

"Perhaps." Diu hums. "I miss her very much, after all."

"Then why did you work here?"

"Master." Diu deadpans. "The pay here is incredible. My wife now has the ability to spend my wealth rather than her family's. Is every husband's dream not to spoil their wife rotten?"

"No." Jinshi grumbles. "Perhaps I should do that for the madam."

"The madam is gone." Maomao deadpans. "Perhaps focus on repainting the walls of the residence first."

"Was the report sent?"

"Not yet." Diu shakes his head. "We are missing a fund as the money has grown to be less."

"Perhaps it is for the repainting of the walls."

"I would assume that the repainting must be done during spring." Jinshi frowns. "Was it during fall?"

"I am not sure." Diu shakes his head. "Did the madam ever mention such?"

"It was fall." Maomao hums. "She complained that it should have been spring once, but she never changed it since it rains more in spring than in fall."

"How do the foreigners put it? April showers do bring May's flowers." Diu hums. "Perhaps the Madam had a reason."

"We can repaint it some other time."

"She would kill you." Maomao deadpans.

"She is not here."

"Does not change that she would kill you." Maomao deadpans. "Perhaps her ghost will return and ruin your life again."

Jinshi pauses. "Well, I do miss her."

Maomao blinks at him in concern.

"I shall put it on the report." Diu nods. "Anything else?"

"I believe that is it."

"Then, may I be released after? I would like to drop by somewhere."

Maomao raises a brow, but Jinshi does not question it.

"Of course. You are free for the rest of the day."

Maomao springs up in her seat. "May I follow?"

Diu nods.

"Going without me?"

"You will stand out too much." Diu deadpans. "We are visiting a teahouse."

"You have a wife!?" Jinshi shrieks, confusion all over his face.

"Not that kind." Diu deadpans.

"What will you be trying?"

"I heard they have a new treat." Maomao hums. "We have been saving for it."

"If you let me go I will pay."

"Hard pass." The two of them grimace.

"We don't lack the funds."

"We can pay."

Jinshi gasps, frowning as he watches the two leave the room when Diu finishes the report.

A plate of the new pastries rests on his desk the next day, but he still pouts and frowns.

He later realizes it's because you had once made the treat for him as kids. That was why he was so upset. Your memories with him haunted him each step he took in the mansion. Perhaps he should have reached for your ghost that day and fallen. Perhaps that would have sped up his fraying string, holding onto nothing as he had lost you.

Perhaps then, he would feel less awful.

冬

In winter, Diu and Maomao help set up the new blankets. The wool is warm, and Maomao sighs, cheeks red from the cold. Diu takes off his coat, wrapping it around Maomao as she blows into her hands and sighs.

"Thank you." She mumbles. "It is cold."

"It is." Diu stares at the floor, pulling out a stone from his pocket to hand to Maomao. "A heated stone, perhaps?"

"Thank you." She mumbles, pulling her clothes open to pop the stone in with the rest. "It is cold. I do not remember the palace being this cold."

Diu goes quiet, glancing around.

"There used to be heated bricks underneath the wood here."

Maomao's eyes widen, neck snapping to look at her coworker.

"That was what I heard from the maids, though. I do not believe the maids told the master either." He shrugs. "How's the master?"

"It is report week." Maomao grimaces.

Diu shudders. "I am surprised he has not called for me yet."

"You remind him too much of the late madam." She shares a look with the man, only turning away when Jinshi yells from inside his office. "He prefers to not—"

"Someone call Diu!" He sobs, and Diu snorts.

"Late madam or not, perhaps desperate situations call for desperate measures." Diu nods, knocking on the door. "Master, I am outside."

The door opens, and Jinshi groans. "Diu! Why is this season's reimbursement report so much lower compared to the previous ones?!"

Jinshi's hair is disheveled, the poor man looking as though he hadn't slept in days. It is a new look to Diu, and it makes Maomao laugh. Diu steps next to him, observing the differences, pointing at the cost in insulation. "I heard from the maids the late madam heated bricks for winter underneath the wood."

"She did?"

"The maids mentioned it." Diu shrugs. "So?"

"Is that the only cost? Who is in charge of the bricks?"

"I am not aware." Diu shakes his head.

"The head maid refuses to tell me. Diu, please." Jinshi cries. "I am not well versed in this."

"In my residence, my wife would hire one of the servants to do so. Perhaps it could be found in their salaries."

Jinshi flips through the book as Diu checks everything over, and he cheers when he finds the maid. Jinshi misses you. You did this much better than he did, and though he had neglected you and the whole situation was his fault, it did not stop him from missing you. Your presence in the residence had simply been enough to him. Now, he had to live without you or your presence in a residence that was meant for two.

"Thank you, Diu." Jinshi grumbles, writing down the note on heating bricks, head slamming into the wood of your desk as Diu takes the report. "God, I miss her."

Diu smiles back, eyes closed, almost as though he were insincere.

In the shadow of Diu, Jinshi sees you.

That smile with his eyes closed reminded him of all the times you had smiled at the officials insincerely, abusing your power as the empress' favorite in order to get them rid of. Perhaps Jinshi is simply going insane because you are gone. The ghost of you haunts him everywhere, including in the body of the new aide. Perhaps it is simply divine punishment from the heavens above.

In the closed-eyed, tight-lipped smile of his new aide, he sees the ghost of you whose smile had changed from a sweet smile with your eyes on him, cheeks flushed, to a smile in which you had not even bothered to look at him, eyes closed and lips pulled upward, lacking the flush that he had grown up seeing. His fault. It is always his fault. There had not been a single moment in which he was right when it had come to you. He is to be despised. You had been right to run away. He will never deserve the love you had given him in the past.

Even if he were to cut his own string and tie it to yours, you could always cut him off of you, simply running away as you had previously. Perhaps it was simply his curse to be this way. He could never love you now that you were gone, and he was the only one to blame. He is the culprit of his own demise.

How loathsome of him.

春

In spring, Jinshi attends the royal court's meeting, lashes thick and full, blinking quickly to blink away his exhaustion. Waking up before the sun was never something worth it. He eats the dishes prepared, listening to the ministers and eunuchs talk about everything. Had you been next to him, he would have had a better time, at least focused for the sake of you, but you are not. Instead, he has Diu who has been testing his dishes, pretty face charming even the married men of the court. Had Diu been born a woman, perhaps he would have been stolen away instantly. Tis a great day for his personal aide to be a man.

Now that Jinshi thinks about it, it was the same with you.

You would be busy reading the material and participating, and the rest of the men would be busy ogling at you. You, who had been raised to be the palace flower, a woman in power worthy of standing next to the second prince. You had been worth far more than what those men could have paid to own you for. Perhaps the late empress was right to make you unattainable to the men of the court. It was disgusting— the way their eyes raked Diu's figure the same way they raked yours at the time. In his eyes, the men are no better than rabid animals. At least rabid animals were put down.

"Master?" Diu's voice snaps Jinshi out of his thoughts. "Is the dish not to your liking?"

"It is." Jinshi shakes his head. "I have not much an appetite."

"I see." Diu hums. "Shall I request something else?"

"No need." Jinshi finishes the rest of the dish, sighing as he puts his chopsticks down. "What is the next dish?"

"I believe it is pheasant."

Jinshi frowns staring at Diu's lips.

"Did Maomao put lipstick on you?"

"Hm? Is it strange?" Diu smiles, holding his cheek. "She said I should doll up a little as your personal attendant. Though, this isn't lipstick. I believe Maomao simply put something on my face."

Jinshi blinks slowly, mentally swatting away all his thoughts as the next dish arrives and Diu presses it to his lips, biting and chewing slowly. Jinshi stares at his lips, pale and pink, and he swallows unconsciously as Diu licks his lips, lips curled into a smile similar to Maomao's. The men of the court pay attention too, a strange charm emitting off of the servant's body. Enthralling. He looked enthralling, lips curled into that sinful grin. Next thing Jinshi knows, Diu is probably going to tell him it's poisonous like Maomao did years ago.

"You can't have this, master." He hums.

"Why not?" Jinshi swallows, throat dry all of a sudden.

"It is poisonous."

Called it.

The royal court goes into chaos as all the men spit it out, fooled by the way Diu had looked so elated at the flavor, and a handful of servants rush to their aid. Jinshi lunges at Diu as he bites the rest of the meat, punching him in the gut as Diu spits the meat out into Jinshi's hand.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Master, poisons do not affect me." Diu tilts his head, eyes wide. "Rest assured. The one who has tried to harm you will not get off free either."

Jinshi stares at him incredulously, lips pulled into a frown as he calls for a doctor to check the man. He taps his table impatiently as he waits for Diu to return, a new poison tester confirming that the pheasant was indeed poisonous. Jinshi watches as the new guy passes out and white foams from his mouth. How did... how did Diu almost swallow the pheasant without issue? Jinshi tries his best not to think about it, closing his eyes. Perhaps Maomao is just accustomed to people who taste poison without any effects.

Diu returns a little before the final dish is served, giving Jinshi a closed-eyed smile before he tastes the new dish. It is a palate cleanser this time. Jinshi watches in worry as Diu presses the spoon to his lips, eyes opening as he raises a brow. Jinshi cannot tell if it is a good raised brow or a bad one.

"Servant, is it poison?"

"No." Diu smiles. "It is simply delicious. You may have it, master."

Jinshi only has half, cheeks flushed as he hands the rest back to Diu, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he mouthes words at the man.

'Finish the rest.'

Diu does not complain, drinking straight from the bowl as he licks his lips, eyes bright and happy as he hands it to another servant.

"Thank you, master." He beams, smiling.

Jinshi's heart skips a beat.

How dangerous.

The rest of the court proceeds as normal, the report given by the workers, and the emperor nodding at the report. Nothing out of the ordinary. though, he notes the new numbers in spending. When you were there, they were lower. Perhaps a handful of officials are using the chance to steal money from the royal family now that you no longer look over the ledger before each payment. Jinshi should start investigating. Surely the crushing of the Shi clan should have served as a fair warning. Perhaps not.

Jinshi looks back to glance at Diu, the servant's eyes oddly sharp. Usually servants would have gotten bored at this point. Instead, Diu looks almost intrigued. He wonders what kind of an upbringing would have created a man who cared so much about monetary affairs of a palace. Though, it should have been clear since Diu had been the one hired to help with monetary affairs. His mathematical ability was incredible. Had Jinshi a child, he would have hired the man to teach his young his ways.

But in the same, Jinshi knows he would have not needed an outside teacher when you were right there. Should he had kids with you, you could cover the vast majority of teaching have you the time. You know the palace better than him at times. He wonders how you are, lips pulled into a frown as he focuses back on the minister. Perhaps Maomao had given Diu the same makeup you used to wear to mess with him. How mean of her. It pains him in the heart that he had been the one to cut your rope and now was burning his own.

He misses you.

夏

Summer is great.

Jinshi has less work during summer as a result, and Diu and Maomao cover the affairs of rearranging the residence. The two are still close. It makes Jinshi bitter, but not bitter in the way he would have been seasons ago, he is bitter that Diu is spending less and less time with him. Perhaps he is bitter that Diu, a man who reminded him of you, spends more time with Maomao than he. It is a reflection of himself, yes, but it does not stop the childish jealously that bubbles in his chest.

"Diu!" Jinshi whines, calling for the servant as he throws open the man's room.

The room is empty, but a familiar scent flutters through the air, knocking the nostalgia right into his lungs. The incense sticks burning are the ones you used to put in the residence. During the few times Jinshi would visit, this scent would always be present in your room, your hair, and your being. This scent was you to him. He finds it strange that Diu would have it in his room, but he does not question it. Perhaps it reminds him of his wife.

"Master? What are you doing in my room?"

Jinshi freezes, caught red-handed. "...I was looking for you." He coughs. "Where were you?"

"I went to run errands with Maomao." Diu bows. "Is something wrong? You were looking at the incense sticks."

"They remind me... anyway." Jinshi tries to stroll out casually. "Is that your favorite scent?"

"My wife." Diu smiles. "It reminds me of my wife."

"I see..." Jinshi trails off. "Whatever! Be sure to tell Maomao to bring me dinner."

Diu calls an affirmative after Jinshi as he rushes out of the room. Too much like you. The scent smelled too much like you. You, who had used perfume oils because you liked it. It reminded Jinshi of your scent for as long as he had known you, the signature smell that brushed his nose apparent for as long as his memories with you would run. Perhaps he would forget about you at night.

Night strikes slowly.

The grief of losing you hits Jinshi slowly.

First, he looks around the room you had prepared for the two of you, the room you had stayed in alone, fingers brushing on the paint on the wall, a reminder that he needed to call for the painters to repaint the residence. Then, he sits down in bed, robes warm on his skin, eyes tired as he lays down. His fingers brush the silk the same way you would have while inspecting the quality, the same way he had seen Diu do so to the blankets, and he holds it to his forehead, heart stuttering and stumbling, pain in his chest too much to bear. It was simply too much.

Then, he cries.

Jinshi cries, tears slow as he lays in your bed, holding the blankets to his chest as he whimpers, missing you. You. You who had lived in the residence for years without a visit from him. He is undeserving of you. Perhaps he would be cursed to live the rest of his days crying in the same bed you had to cry in. He would be dammed for all of eternity to never see you again. Perhaps that is his curse. He is simply too weak to admit his love, too prideful to bend down first, too lost to find his way again. He wanted nothing to do with you when you traded the whole world for him. His curse would be to never hold you again, even when he needed you the most.

He sniffles, brows pulled together as he clings harder onto the blanket.

He does not notice the footsteps outside the door nor the knocking from Diu.

"Master Jinshi? Are you alright? I hear crying." Diu's voice rings from the door. "I may bring tea if you would allow it. That helps me when I am hurt."

"It is fine." He speaks, voice oddly even.

"I shall bring you a cup of tea and towel to help freshen up. We could not afford to let the master of the house's beauty be wounded." Diu speaks, stepping and walking off.

Jinshi wipes his tears with his fingers, heaving. When Diu returns, he opens the door after a quick knock, setting the tea on the table as he sits by his bed, helping Jinshi up, eyes gentle, hands wiping at his tears with the cloth, and Jinshi sniffs. Diu's eyes remind him of yours, even. The same gentle shade he had grown up seeing, the same shade that sparkled under the sun's light or the moon's reflection. It is a haunting memory of you. Perhaps the two of you are from the same lineage. Or perhaps Jinshi was simply losing it.

"Diu."

"Yes, master?"

"Are you this gentle with your wife?"

"But of course."

Jinshi sighs dramatically. "Maybe in another life I was born your wife."

Diu snorts. "That would be quite hard, master."

"Why?"

"What if I were born a woman as well?"

"Then I would be born your husband." He pouts, eyes red as he stares at the man. "What tea did you bring?"

"Green tea." Diu hums. "Will you drink it?"

"Please." Jinshi frowns. "Could I meet your wife one day?"

"That would be quite hard." Diu frowns, carrying the tray over and setting it down by the bed.

"Why so?"

Diu does not speak, handing the cup to Jinshi instead, smiling.

"Is she gone?"

"It is hard to explain." Diu hums. "Master, let me know if you require anything else."

"No." Jinshi shakes his head, drinking the tea. It's slightly sweet and brewed to perfection.

It tastes like the tea you used to brew.

It brings tears to his eyes unconsciously, a frown on his face. You had learned to brew tea to perfection. The temperature had been right, you had served them in their little cups, lips pressed to the edge of the cup as you tested it for heat, and then set it before Jinshi, offering him a drink. You had brewed green tea without the bitterness that other consorts had, and you had served tea to even the emperor when it was permitted. Jinshi might just be losing it. No, he has not been in a regular state since your disappearance. He is simply reaping the seeds of his actions.

"Is something wrong?"

"You brew tea like someone I used to know." Jinshi shakes his head. "It is a shame she is gone."

"Maomao is not gone, though?"

"My wife." Jinshi purses his lips. He had mentioned it perhaps once or twice, but it had never been more than that. It is not the madam of the house this time, it is his wife. He misses his wife. You, his beloved who had been betrothed to him. He misses you. You were his wife, not his betrothed. He had seen you in red twice now, that was surely confirmation. Even if you were to forget, he fears that he could not. You are his wife, that much is clear. "That is enough for the night. Thank you."

Diu nods, taking the tray out and closing the door with his foot, leaving Jinshi alone with his thoughts.

It is scary— how much Diu resembles you.

Perhaps your ghost is really haunting him through his aide.

秋

"Maomao." Jinshi hisses.

"Yes, Master Jinshi?" The girl turns to look at him.

"Where did you find Diu? He seems as though he yields from an elite family, yet there are no records of him anywhere." Jinshi raises a brow. "He is far too trained in arithmetic to be from a middle-class family as well."

"Oh, his family records were burned." Maomao shrugs. "He helped me once when I was about to be scammed by a merchant, so I decided to pay him back by employing him. He is good, is he not?"

"He is, but it is highly suspicious." Jinshi grumbles. "Who is his wife?"

"I have never met her."

Jinshi blinks. "You know nothing about him other than that he is good at math and has a wife, and you hired him?"

"Master Jinshi, he is not good at just math." Maomao argues. "She—"

"She?"

"I mean," Maomao sighs. "He is good at arranging the interior of the residence, is he not? He is highly trained in both what the women wield and what the men do. I hired him because he was capable in such areas. Are you doubting my loyalty? I value my head, you know? Diu is a great servant."

"That cannot be refuted, but—"

"I heard my name." Diu flicks Maomao's forehead. "And heard myself get misgendered. I am a man, Maomao. Must you hurt my pride further? I am already a eunuch. My poor wife will never get to experience penetrative pleasure from me because of the profession I have taken."

"Do you have children?" Jinshi raises a brow.

"No, master." Diu shakes his head. "My wife and I are perfectly content with no children. After all, I married into my wife's family."

"Oh, so you yield from nothing?" Jinshi interrogates, leaning onto his palm as he stares the man down.

"Yes." Diu nods. "I yield from nothing. Apart from my wife, I am nothing."

"Suspicious."

"Master." Maomao sighs.

Jinshi holds a hand up to signal for her to stop speaking. "Are you sure you do not yield from money?"

"I do not." Diu nods.

"Then why did Maomao call you a she?"

"Perhaps because I am pretty as one?" Diu winks at Jinshi, blowing a kiss.

Maomao hunches over in laughter as Jinshi fans his face.

"Fair point."

"You are gorgeous too, master." Diu hums. "Pretty like the lilies in the pond... dazzling like the stars in the sky. Surely, if you were a woman, the men would flock to your like bees to a flower."

Jinshi takes a moment to recover, holding his hand up. "The same would go to you, Diu."

"They already do." Diu hums. "I have submitted the report for the season."

"That is good." Jinshi sighs. "Maomao, do not hire random people from the street next time. I am starting to believe you only hired Diu because he is attractive."

"Attractive people need an attractive servants." Maomao shrugs.

Jinshi can't argue with that one.

"Or, perhaps similar people tend to flock to one another." Diu hums, picking up the flower pot with ease.

"Or haunt each other." Maomao mumbles, nodding as the two of them leave the room with the flowers.

It does not take two people to arrange flowers.

Yet, Jinshi pays attention to Maomao's words.

Haunt. Similar people haunt each other.

Maybe that is why he sees you in Diu.

冬

Jinshi finishes the affairs for the day, groaning and rolling his shoulders back as he returns to your office, expecting the rest of his papers to still be there. Instead, he finds Maomao knocked out on the tea table, a finished stack of paper next to her, completed and only left behind for him to sign and seal. He takes the papers, reading through the contents, writing eerily similar. You are not here, yet the writing mirrors yours perfectly. It is your writing down to the bone. It is the same writing that he had read in your reports and invoices for the residence's monthly fees. Furthermore, it was not Maomao's handwriting.

Something is wrong.

The writing is yours. You are present in the mansion. You had danced on the walls, haunted his life, brewed him tea, and done so many things to him. It was not your ghost. You were there to haunt him. It infuriates him to no end, but you had to have a hand in the residence to be able to do so. You may not be there physically, but surely someone would have been sent to do the dirty work for you. There seems to be someone new doing the dirty work for him, and who else than his new aide? Perhaps this was some twisted divine punishment in the worst way. Perhaps he would not see the end of the world as he knows it, and you would crawl out of your grave to wrap your fingers around his ankle and drag him to hell with you.

Or perhaps Diu was out for revenge on your behalf.

"Hm?" Maomao wakes up first, jumping in her skin when he stares into her eyes harshly.

There are three people in the residence allowed to write reports.

"Who is Diu."

It is not a question. A command. It is a command.

Maomao stares into Jinshi's eyes, sighing, clicking her tongue in disdain.

"I shall rid of him."

"No. Who is he. Answer." Jinshi curses out. "You brought him in. Who is he."

"I owed him a debt so I hired him." Maomao speaks. "It is that simple."

"Who is he."

"Someone you lost."

"Master!" A maid calls. "Come out to the entrance! There is a maid claiming she knows the madam's whereabouts!"

Jinshi glares at Maomao, pointing down to make sure she stays put.

Maomao watches Jinshi rush out, and she sighs, taking the ointment from her pocket. Now to find you. No way in hell she was listening to him in this situation.

Jinshi meets the maid, and he sees through her immediately. A ploy. This is a ploy. This is some cruel set up by fate who wishes for him to be miserable, and the maid did not know where you were at all. Maomao did. Maomao probably knew exactly where you were, and she had probably known for a while now. He was foolish not to realize it, but he knows it now. He is no longer mad, simply exhausted. He misses you. How he wishes you would just appear out of nowhere. That would fix him.

Jinshi looks up when he hears something above.

Something snaps.

冬

Your lips quirk up from the roof, humming as your voice returns to normal and Maomao wipes the makeup off your face. Your brows are less bushy and your lips turn more delicate. Your lashes remain the same, and you thread your fingers through your hair, smiling as Maomao stares down at the random woman. Talk about timing.

You're sure Jinshi is somewhat aware by now.

You stand up, the tiles clattering under your feet, and you laugh as you stretch your arms above your head, catching the way the woman at the gate pales in horror at the sight of you on the roof. Maomao sits behind you, same wind in her hair, leaning on her palm as you look down at Jinshi with a brow raised, Diu's clothes still on your body. Jinshi's eyes widen as he yells for you, leaving the other woman.

"With that, your debt is paid." You smile at Maomao. "I'll see you around, Maomao."

Maomao watches as you jump over the wall to the residence and Jinshi chase after you.

You sprint through the streets, Jinshi hot on your tail as you weave through the crowds swiftly, leaving Jinshi no chance to catch up to you. You really did think dressing as a man was fun, however much of a shame it was that Jinshi found out that you were the same eunuch hitting on everyone in the residence. You wonder if he'll catch you. At some point, you manage to ditch the outer coat to your shirt, only pants left and the wrap around your chest, throwing the coat at Jinshi to stop him as you rush into the forest.

It does not stop him, and when you dive into the water to get to the cave, a hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you to the surface with it as you kick to be freed. The hand lets go, but not before grabbing your face with a second hand, lips pressed to yours, the two of you float out of the water as Jinshi holds onto your face, legs kicking to keep himself afloat. His grip on your face is solid, no strength spared as he keeps you in place.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? Stupid?!" You scoff, hands gripping his wrist to try to pull him off. "You're the one who said you would marry no one but Maomao! I simply left because you left me behind!"

"I went back for you!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?!" You scream, thrashing against his grip as it tightens, your nails digging into his wrist as he remains unbothered. "You've left me behind so many times! You left me during tea with the fucking emperor so you could save Maomao you nitwit!"

"I needed to save her! You would have done the same! You gave me the army seal!"

"But I would not have neglected you in the outer walls of the palace!" You shriek, finally breaking from his grasp as you dive underwater to swim away.

Jinshi follows after you, hand wrapping around your ankle to pull you to him, hands finding your waist as he pulls you with him to the cave, holding you down on the ground as water drips from his hair onto your face, his vision blurry from something he doesn't know anymore. You make him feel things. The dam holding back all of his emotions for you shatter as he pants, mouth open and chest heaving as he cries, hot tears splattering onto your face, his head hung as you resort to your fate, annoyance all over your face as you wait for him to cry it out.

"Jinshi. You love Maomao. We both know—"

"I don't." He whimpers. "I don't. I don't love her."

"Jinshi—"

somewhere in his subconscious, a rope snags.

"I love you." Jinshi whimpers, tears hot and warm on your cheeks now, dark eyes murky and cloudy, desperation bleeding past his fingers onto your skin as his grip on your tightens, a sob breaking past his lips, almost as if he had been in the same boat as you, the two of you both needing to break in order to be fixed. You had jumped off first, leaving Jinshi on his own as he had to figure out what he needed to do to get you back. You had floated off, lips curled into a peaceful smile and your eyes full of light, only to leave him behind. "I love you." Jinshi repeats again, voice cracking. Deep down, he is still that same child that held hands with you. Both of you were born and bred in order to grow quickly, not spared by the rapids of the palace as you both grew and grew and grew until you were perfect on the outside and hollow on the inside. "I love you." He sobs. "I have loved you for longer than I have been conscious. I did not pick to love Maomao because she had been perfect for me. I had picked her because she had been so full of life and full compared to the both of us. I can't love the same way everyone else does. I have given up my right as emperor, do you not know?! Do you know why you had to treat my wound when Maomao was gone?! I gave up the title! I cannot offer you what you were born and raised for. You deserve—"

You slap him, breathing heavy as the sound echoes through the cave.

"I deserve far more than you can give me." You speak, voice oddly even. "I deserve the world, but there is no point taking someone else's world when all I have ever been raised to know as my world is you. You should have spoken up and done something to communicate. I deserve the title of empress only because I was raised to become one. Beneath the title, all I deserved was for my childhood friend and the anchor of my life to stare at me just once outside of the royal court."

Jinshi whimpers, head still hung, cheek stinging from your slap.

"I was scared. We both cannot afford to have such weaknesses in the royal palace." Jinshi's voice goes quiet. "If I had revealed that I had an attachment to you, then the assassinations would have targeted you. I do not wish for you to drink more poison than you can take. I already know the previous empress made you swallow and swallow until there was nothing left. You are not a doll to me. You are something precious."

"Well you didn't choose me." You sigh. "We are getting nowhere—"

"I love you." Jinshi says it again.

"You do not—"

"I love you." Jinshi stares you in the eye, breathing slowing down and his eyes clear. "Until I stop chasing you under the sun and until the world ends, I love you. Until the heavens themselves strike me down, I will be in love with you. I do not deserve to love you right now, but it does not stop me. I will keep loving you until we return to the dirt of the ground. You may hate me for the rest of your life, despising everything that the royal name I own has put you through, but I will love you. Until I am bleeding my heart out and I become a star in the sky, I will love you. The moon is only gorgeous because it reflects the light from the sun. I am only the moon prince because the sun stands next to me in every event. Without you, I am worth nothing."

"That is a lie and you know it!"

"It is not!" Jinshi yells, lips pressing to yours to shut you up, even when you thrash against him, he holds you down, want and passion rippling through his lips to yours, and even when you accept his kiss, he does not stop, teeth gnashing against yours in something akin to a burning passion. He loves you. You are the sun to his moon, the light that he reflects in his day to day. He may have despised you, but the want that bled through his body at the sight of you was not something he could have ignored either. He loves you. He loves you until he returns to the dust of the world and both of you are lost to history. He loves you until the world caves in on itself and the royal family collapses.

When he finally pulls away, he notices the tears in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

"I love you." He whispers.

"Your mother was right." You whimper, voice frail and broken as you cry. "I am just a girl. I did not deserve the fate of the universe to rest on my back. I did not deserve for you to neglect me only to cry to me about loving me all alone. I do not deserve this, Jinshi."

"You are just a girl. I am just a boy." He whispers. "Neither of us deserved what we went through. I have never been in the right when it came to treating you. I will spend eternity trying to win you back after losing you. It will be my divine punishment, and the two of us may enter the afterlife, but I will continue to follow you. I have never been right when it has come to you, and I will spend my life regretting that."

And you cry, chest hurt from the years of pain, heart free from the years of hiding.

You are just a girl, and he is just a boy.

Neither of you deserved what you have been put through in the name of a better nation.

And as he ties his burnt rope to your frayed one to fix the gap, neither did he.

You are just a girl, and he is just a boy.

Alone in a royal palace with no real family.

You did not deserve it.

春

Jinshi brought you home.

His hand on your lower back as the two of you were drenched from head to toe, he brought you back. Maomao wiped your hair down as you thanked her, same dignified smile on your face as always, thanking Maomao for bringing you back. She helped you clean up, and you were returned to your room, the papers of the residence now split between you and Jinshi. Jinshi helps with what he is capable of, papers on his desk split with yours as you help him sort through the affairs of the residence. You are much more well-versed in it than he is.

"Beloved." Jinshi groans. "I need a drink."

You snort, sliding a paper to the side. "Ask Maomao for a drink. I need to make a round in the residence. The new blankets are coming today."

"When will we be wed? We must celebrate your return."

"I find no reason to if I never left." You hum. "You are still yet to propose to me. Not to mention how Maomao still has the hairpin you have given her."

"She does not." Jinshi raises a brow. "She traded it for wen at the pawn store when we went to the streets to get coins."

You raise a brow incredulously.

"You can ask her." Jinshi goes back to whining, Gaoshun sighing.

"Madam." Maomao knocks at the door. "Do you have time?"

You nod, closing the door behind you, and one of the maids hands you something with a bow and runs off when you accept it. It is a treat. Your lips quirk up as you unwrap it, handing Maomao one as you press the other one to your lips. The two of you chew quietly, and you stare at the pond. The red is all gone. You're not sure how Jinshi did it, but he had gotten rid of the blood you stained in it three winters prior. It had been gone for a while now. Yet, you do not say much, chewing on the peanut treat, tossing some at the ducks in the garden as you squat down.

"When is your wedding?"

"There is no need for one." You mumble. "Jinshi may not remember it, but we had been wed already."

Maomao blinks. "You were?"

"It was a simple ceremony. I had no family, so the empress had the two of us wed in secret before her death." You hum. "They dressed me up in red and proceeded with customs, but we continued to refer to each other as betrothed simply because it would be been troublesome for us to be married with no children."

"I see." Maomao mumbles. "Does he remember?"

"I do not believe so—"

You jump in your skin when Jinshi brushes his fingers over the nape of your neck.

"How could I not?" He pouts. "Though, you deserve a bigger wedding. It is the least I should do after putting you through so much."

You grimace at him. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning. Best of luck sending a proposal letter to my nonexistent family, Jinshi."

"No, we should pick up from the wedding." He frowns. "The bed. We never shared a bed."

"Because the empress passed away that same night so no one was there to watch us to rest together." You roll your eyes. "Treat?"

He takes one, humming. "I would prefer to host the wedding again."

You shrug. "The one to plan shall be you, despite the traditional way to go about it. It is not like I can bed you, anyway."

Maomao blinks slowly, cogs turning in her head. You watch, lips curled into a smile when it clicks for her.

"He's a eunuch." She pauses. "Which is why they did not make him bed you."

"Bingo!" You grin. "The second prince officially has one spouse. Master Jinshi has none."

"...then why do the maids here refer to him as master?"

"We force them to be tight-lipped." Jinshi hums. "Anyone who lets a word slip is executed. You live longer when you are tight lipped in this residence."

"I kill at least three maids a year." You hum. "You should watch. I line them up and shoot arrows at them."

Maomao blinks at you in concern. She supposes it is adequate since revealing Jinshi's true name would be like selling him out, but the idea of you wielding a bow... She pauses. No. You've cut a man's head off clean before. It is not out of character. It is simply out of character for the persona you display in front of the royal palace. Huh. Amusing. The contradiction of your quiet personality and the reality of your abilities. Perhaps you had been groomed in such a way to prevent your turning on the late empress.

"You are strange."

"Yes." You smile. "Very strange."

"You know what is strange? The fact that you are not my wife yet." Jinshi sighs dramatically.

You snort.

"Shall we get married in fall? When the harvest is most bountiful?"

"Perhaps." You yawn. "Though, you are to prepare everything."

"Except the dress?" Jinshi pauses. "No. It would be best if I pick the dress. I would simply—"

You smack him in the back of his head. "Bad. Leave the dress and decorations to me. You will simply plan the day and time."

"Yes, beloved." He pouts.

In the distance, a maid waves her hand, and you nod at Jinshi heading off.

Maomao's gaze lingers on you, only speaking up when you are out of earshot.

"Perhaps a new hairpin for her would be good as well."

"Well obviously." He pouts. "Perhaps you know what gem she would prefer?"

"Perhaps out of jade." She turns to look at Jinshi. "And hand carved."

Jinshi spits out blood.

Alright. For you.

Jinshi finishes the hairpin surprisingly fast, going home with ash on his face more often than he liked, but the hairpin is finished, jade shiny under the sun, pearls fastened with red silk, perfect for you to wear. It weighs light in his hand, but the metal is precious. So, he waits for a nice spring day, the sky clear and blue, sun in the sky, and he calls you out for tea.

This time, it would be his turn to chase after you, and he was determined to get you back.

After all, by the stars and the moon, by your birthdays and luck, you were destined.

And even if you were just a girl and he was just a boy, at least he was your boy.

If you would let him, of course.

“I don’t really feel like living in a society today.”

“Let’s run away, then”, was Shanks’ response, an alternative as easy and attainable as breathing. 

Things tended to be that way with him. No muss, no fuss. Just you, him and the infinite blue sky above you.

That’s how you found yourselves in a small deserted island, hammocks tied around coconut trees. The paradisiac beach was beautiful, the sea in a shade of blue you didn’t even realize existed.

How simple it was. Running away with him. 

…And his entire crew, but it was fine. 

You never needed him to save you. But he did nonetheless, without even trying. The freedom, the peace that your heart felt — it was all very rare in this world. 

The sun came up slowly, traces of orange and yellow emerging in a dark blue sky. You two were the only ones on the ship, the rest of the crew out and about, hunting or asleep on the beach with the coming and going of the waves as a lullaby. 

Droplets of sweat ran down your forehead as you moved against Shanks on his bed. Riding him was always pleasant, exquisite and just good. He would move his hips upwards sometimes, others he preferred to just lay back and enjoy the view. Right now, his one hand travelled on your side, squeezing your hip every now and then, as you rolled yourself on him, your clit stimulated in every movement.

Was it really that simple? Life, that is. The ruffle of white sheets and his red hair splayed out in front of you. All of the world faded to nothing when you shared moments like this with Shanks. 

Never had you expected such simplicity from someone who, from the outside, seemed like such a complex character. 

You knew he had his past, and you had yours, but it didn’t matter. Not when you were tangled amidst his sheets, feeling oh so good. It all faded away.

With a sigh and your hands on your breasts, you came. When your breath stilled and your body stopped contracting, you looked down at him and were met with starry eyes and a lazy grin. 

“That’s one way to wake up”, he said, grinning like a child, grabbing you and throwing you on your back so he could continue making love like it was the only necessity he had. No water, no food, no sleep. Only you and him. 

As he moved, the sun began to cast light on all corners of the room, turning the cold into warmth. 

Running away was always frowned up where you came from, but Shanks never let you feel bad for it. For needing time away, for hiding when it all felt just a little too much. He cherished the parts of you you weren’t sure you yourself liked. And, when all hell broke loose, he would use the clothes on his body as wood to make a fire for you if it was cold. 

Certainty was never a given in your life, nor was an uncomplicated ease that flowed through you such as the waves flowed to the shores. Still, with Shanks, it was possible. It was possible to just pick up and run, run, run, and have someone with you through it all.

His cheek rested on collarbone as he lazily thrusted into you, kissing your neck and wherever his lips could reach. Your hands were all over him — his hair, his back, his arm, and your legs were hugging his waist, trying to bring him impossibly closer. 

The silence, the sun, his body consuming you was everything you needed. 

You were aware of the rumours surrounding your relationship. After all, Shanks was a public figure, whether he willed it or not. Many whispers would follow wherever he went. You had heard it all, from strangers saying you were a mermaid to other pirates complaining the Red-Haired Pirates should share their delicious treasures as a measure of bona fide.

No sound reached you now. No whispers, no yells. There was only the feeling of the man you loved so dearly spilling himself on you, all protection long forgotten, in a quiet morning in the most deserted place you could find.

They could call it what they wanted. It didn’t change what you had with the sunny, unbelievable, shooting star of an Emperor. And what you had was as easy and trustworthy as the sun that would rise on the East. 

You marvelled at how you caught lightning in a bottle with Shanks. Although you doubted yourself constantly, and found yourself questioning whether or not you deserved him, those moments were fewer and fewer with each passing day. 

Hours later, sitting on the warm sand beside him, he drew both your initials inside an ill shaped heart with his forefinger. You giggled like a school child as someone called your names back to the ship. 

A part of you wished to complain and just stay here on this island a little more. However, the other part of you was interested in the adventures your future held. 

“What are your ambitions in life?”

The question caught you off guard. It’s not like you and the man besides you had heartfelt conversations constantly. No, it was much more relentless teasing and a whole lot of work. 

Looking straight ahead, you felt the presence of the seemingly infinite ocean in front of you, the smell of salt water, and the slight sway of the ship as the waves moved around and beneath — the combination had you at ease. The sea was your home.

The people asleep on the ship were the closest thing to a family you had nowadays. And a massive thank you to every deity for that. 

Ever since you joined them, the benefits were mutual and the connection was instant. It was easy to love them, and you made yourself valuable. One of them, playing with his own name, called you their “lucky charm”. All of that due to your navigation skills that got them out of trouble and into profit more times than one. 

However, you kept to yourself. The pain, the heartache, the loss… They haunted you, even if they belonged in the past. And here, you were moving towards your future. 

“Y’know, your dreams, your ambitions…”, the man by your side continued, given your silence. You remained quiet, teasingly, which only enticed him more. “Surely you’ve heard of those”, his smile was unfaltering and his one arm was on the bulwark, bottle of rum in hand. 

You took a sip of your drink. The two of you were the last ones still awake, drinking and staring into the endless water and dark sky, trying to see where they met — at least, that’s what you were doing. He was just yapping. You’d grown used to your Captain’s tendencies of lightheartedness and mischief, and it was safe to say you were friends. Good ones, even if you weren’t eager to share your deepest secrets. You were certain he didn’t want to share his as well. You liked each other regardless because of it. Perhaps more because of it.  

“C’mon”, he drank a generous gulp, smiling still. “Gimme a drag”, as he only had one arm, he didn’t have the capacity of holding the bottle in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. So, you held it for him between your fingers, sometimes moving it towards his mouth so he could inhale. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt so intimate. 

You liked your Captain. Very much so. And, as one of the few women on the Red Force, of course you noticed that he checked you out every now and then — all men did. You didn’t mind, in fact, you rather enjoyed checking them out right back.

It was extremely rare for the two of you to have a moment alone like this, and you cherished it immensely. The man was an Emperor, after all, and you still found yourself yearning for one on one time as if he was a school mate. 

Even now, in this whole new world, he still made sure his crew had a moment to party every now and then, when things were calm. Hence, why everyone was passed out drunk and you were still standing, at guard. Or as much guard you could be in this half drunken state.

“You know, it’s bad manners not to answer your Captain, not to mention a clear act of rebellion…”

You took a deep breath, laughing quietly. “I know”, you spoke only to shut him up. You knew he wouldn’t push you too far, and that’s why you felt comfortable enough to talk. “I remember having dreams and ambitions as a little girl. I just… Don’t know where it all went”.

“I reckon it’s still in there”, he pointed at your chest, your heart — skillfully balancing his bottle of rum without the pointed finger. 

“I once said I wanted to be an assassin”, you smiled remembering the child you once were. Your Captain smiled too. “I didn’t know what an assassin was, of course”.

“Of course”, that smile was still there, perfect. As perfect as an imperfect pirate Captain can be, at least. His gaze inspired you to continue. 

“I loved reading and history. I remember my father”, your voice altered slightly, mentioning the flawed man who raised you, more emotional than before, “finding new books for me every now and then. He abdicated everything for our little family… And for knowledge. I think at some point I wished to carry on his legacy”.

The question of ambitions and dreams was a hard one. At this particular place in your life, all you wanted was to be safe, to be comfortable, to be around your found family… Around Shanks. 

“What happened?”, he persisted, interested. 

You took a deep sigh. “People. Expectations. Life got in the way, I guess”.

“But what would you want if there were no expectations, no people?”, he asked, and, although he directed the question to you, it seemed like he was looking for guidance for himself as well.

You shrugged your shoulders and smiled. “I think I would be a librarian in a small village… Have a lot of cats, and maybe horses, too. Be free, with the open skies above me and the infinite sea near, too, but with a place of my own. In another life, maybe”, you looked over at him, “All that after I travelled the world and found the One Piece with you, boss, of course”.

“Naturally”, his smile lit up the night, and he took a sip of his drink, a little lost in thought.

“What about you?”, you inquired. You didn’t shy away from returning the question to him. After all, if you answered, so should he. Although he was the boss, he still maintained quite a balanced environment. You could just talk to each other about anything, and if one wanted out of the conversation, there would be no questions asked from the other. 

His body was turned towards you, eyes on you and not on the sea. It was clear his focus had shifted from inside his mind to outside, to the night, to this moment. His attention was almost too much. You returned your gaze to that water below, the sound of the waves a good substitute for silence. 

“Honestly?”, you nodded as he spoke, “As a kid… I just wanted to be a carefree pirate with…”, he stopped himself, shaking his head lightly. It was his turn to look away into the distance. “My friends.The freedom of it all called to me”, he finished, after taking another long sip of his drink. 

Silence ensued. Yet, the quiet with your Captain was comfortable. Even though he was propense to partying and laughing, he seemed in his element in the silence too. A man of his stature with an ability to feel deeply was a rare thing. You felt immensely proud to be by his side, to be a part of his crew. It was no lie that you wanted to see the world, but you weren’t sure you would have allowed yourself to want it this badly had you not joined his crew. They made this possible, and, even though there was violence and discomfort sometimes, it was good. 

Even though you tried not to, your glare kept returning to him. Perhaps your thinking was too loud, because the man turned to you again. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he did so often. 

“Did you lose something similar to my face or am I just too handsome?”, the amusement in his voice was tangible. 

“Oh, shut up”, you tried to cover your smirk by drinking some more, but he caught on, clearly having fun.

“No, seriously”, he took one step closer, “am I really so beautiful that your gaze just falls on me naturally?”

You laughed, but you felt your face redden nonetheless. You could try to play it cool, but this interaction had begun to make you nervous in the best way possible, and the part of you fueled by rum wanted to see where it would lead.

“Yes, Shanks”, you playfully responded. Calling him by his name was a dangerous move, especially in the mocking tone you had on. You brought the cigar to your mouth, lighting it again and taking one long inhale. You breathed out the air, still smiling slightly, your Captain’s eyes now predatorial. “I do think you’re that beautiful”.

Another step, this time you took it. The two of you were so close you could feel his warmth. His body towered over you, all six foot seven of him. It almost made your neck hurt looking up to him, but the thrill of this situation made anything bearable. 

“Care to share?”, he motioned to the smoke between your fingers with a raise of eyebrows. 

You just lift your hand close to his mouth so he could breathe it in. When he exhaled and you began to lower your hand, he stopped you, holding your wrist and the bottle at the same time. Then, he did the unthinkable. He kissed it. 

His lips were rough, but they felt amazing on your skin. Perfect. As if they belonged there. 

Even this small gesture, this little kiss on the inside of your wrist, the smoke still coming from the cigar, caused an inexplicable rush. Body on fire, burning as red as his head of hair.

His gaze never left your face, not even when your glare flew from his eyes to his lips, still lingering on your skin. 

Your poor heart, beating so quickly for a man so unattainable. Yet, a voice inside you, most likely drunk as well, whispered softly, if he could be attained, it would be by you.

A loud noise came from inside the crew’s quarters. You jumped, but Shanks simply moved away softly. 

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone. 

The cigarette in your hand went out. 

***

It had been a few months since the hand incident, if it could even be called that. The Captain acted pretty much the same most of the time, composed and natural, but you felt changed in your very core. 

Sometimes, you’d look for him and find him already staring at you. Every now and then, during a party or celebration, some drinks in, you’d flirt with him and he would flirt back, all charm and charisma. 

You brushed the incident off as a drunken reaction, but there was a part of you that couldn’t get rid of the sensation that something between the two of you shifted, and that you might want more. 

The slight shift in his demeanour came not only from his gaze, or the flirting. There was a new found protectiveness, as if his shadow was towering over you as more than a Captain. One time, when the ship was docked on a random island, you felt him come behind you during an argument with a shopkeeper. You hadn’t realized he went in after you, and yet, there he was, by your side. You didn’t even have to ask.

The conversations you had around others were different now too. The Captain valued everyone’s opinion, but you could tell by the way he wouldn’t take his eyes off of you that he wanted to know yours, not the filtered version you carefully crafted for others, but your true, honest opinion.

Either that, or you were hallucinating from scurvy.

The night fell swiftly, and the crew was scattered in this small fishermen’s island. You were probably the only one on the ship still, and your intention was to enjoy the quiet night alone on the ship with a book you picked up at the shop the day you had anchored. 

A ruffled noise came from behind you as you made your way to the common room. You reacted instantly. Book in one hand, dagger on the other, you were ready to defend yourself and the Red Force. 

“Jeez, at rest, soldier”. The voice came from behind you, all fun and giggles. You could recognize that sound anywhere. “At least I can sleep soundly knowing you are guarding us all”.

“Heavens, boss!”, you put the dagger back in your belt and held your book close to your chest. Turning around to face him was a natural reflex, but a part of you wished you hadn’t done it. He was quite the sight — deep red hair, built like a god, even his scars were attractive. “You scared me”.

“You look adorable grasping your book like that”, he said, letting his body fall on the wall. Back against it, one leg up to balance himself. There he was with the flirting once more. That smile could stop a war, you were certain.

Your head fell to the side, in a way you hoped was sweet and charming, and you had to hold yourself not to smile. Part of you wanted to maintain a strong facade for him, tease him, make him work for it a little. 

He was your Captain, but he was also a man. 

There was a flame behind his eyes and an energy in the way he tilted his head, matching your movement, which had your chest moving up and down more strongly. Air felt rarefied, and suddenly you were aware of every part of your body — the red in your cheeks, the white of your outfit, the shaking of your legs, the sweating of your hands.

This should have been simple. It was just a Captain chatting with his mate. 

It could be just that.

However, you realized this was the first time you and Shanks were alone together since the incident. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I simply have no adequate response”. Your mouth was faster than your brain. Maybe, in another life, you were more eloquent, like your father, or maybe elegant, like your mother. But no. You just stared at the man who was your Captain and the object of all your desires, and said incoherent nonsense.

“You haven’t quite figured out what I want you to respond, huh?”, he read you like an open book. “You can just speak your mind, you know”.

The cover of the book was endlessly interesting. The night smelled like salt, and the lighting in the corridor leading to the common room was dim. 

You felt him take a step closer before you saw it. Once more, you were in a compromising position — with your Captain towering over you, dark cloak almost shielding the both of you. You remembered this feeling, this that came as easily as breathing. 

His one hand moved up towards your chin, lifting your head so your eyes would meet. You knew you could be seductive and blink innocently and just lure him in if you wanted, but this was Shanks. 

He was more experienced than that, and he would be able to tell if you were doing something only to please him or because you thought he would want it. 

In your mind, you constantly found yourself thinking about what your Captain would do to you. Of course you had heard many stories about his conquests, his one night stands, his lovers — all of whom seemed more than willing to go back for more. All made it seem like sharing Shanks’ bed was a dream.

You were far from virginal, but any involvement with your Captain had the potential to be complicated, so you were a little hesitant — even though the tension was palpable, even though his hand remained on your chin. The hesitant part was bigger than the people pleaser part. 

And the attraction was stronger than any hesitation.  

So, you did the one thing you could think to do. 

One hand moved to hold his wrist, and you moved it slightly closer to your lips. With a suaveness that was strange even to you, you kissed it. 

It was the very first time your lips touched Shanks, and it was magical. 

If this was an answer to the questions you had, it was a good one. 

His shock was evident in his face and in his body. He tensed up immediately, not used to having someone treat him with such fondness, hold him with such care. Even though he was the furthest thing possible from chaste and coy, his endeavours were, more often than not, much too raw. 

The Captain usually didn’t have a problem with his dominating, charismatic personality — he constantly used it to his advantage, and it worked. Although he would much prefer being carefree, life happened and he had to play the hand he was given. But there was not a single part of him that expected this. 

He wasn’t in control, for once. After all, this wasn’t a one night stand or a hookup with no strings attached. The two of you were connected by something greater than life, and your entire livelihood would be affected if it ended poorly. 

It wasn’t in Shanks’ nature to worry this much, and it wasn’t in your nature to do something this recklessly. 

And, somehow, your lips still didn’t leave his skin. 

You blinked once, twice, hoping for a reaction. The seconds dragged on for days, it seemed. His mouth was slightly open, and his eyes never left yours. 

His big right hand moved, cupping your cheek, and your eyes instantly closed, relishing in his touch. Was it you who let out a moan? You couldn’t tell, so lost in the moment. He murmured your name, a warning, and you opened your eyes to find an expression you’d never seen before in his face.

“Tell me to stop”, he said. 

“No”, was your murmured answer. 

He used his strength to push you against the wall behind you, now in control again, where he belonged. The hand that was soft on your cheek moved harshly to your neck. He pulled your hair back, just a little, not excessively. Your neck was exposed, and he would have to lower his body a lot to touch it with his lips, and damn, you hoped he would.

You dropped your book, which fell to the wooden floor with a loud thud.  

His signature red hair was covering his eyes, but you could feel the predatory gaze on you. 

You half expected him to kiss you, take you to his chambers and claim you in the most animalistic way possible. But that wasn’t him. The man standing in front of you was calm, lighthearted and fun, albeit domineering. Easily taking charge of the situation and making it what he needed. So, it was no surprise that he lowered his head to press his forehead against yours, and said “You smell so good”.

You just chuckled, now holding his waist. He sniffed your hair like a puppy would. 

“Seriously, is that driftwood?”, you could hear his smile when he spoke. Perhaps it was insanity. But having Shanks close to you like this, his body attached to yours and his attention solely on you was insane, so you didn’t see any harm in playing along. 

“Shut up”, you giggled. You looked up to him, trying to memorize his features. 

The moment suddenly became serious. Your giggles stopped, and his smile vanished. The rest of the world vanished, too. No sounds, no light, nothing. 

There was only you and him. 

The built-up tension was a solid block above the two of you. You wanted nothing more than to break it, but, at the same time, the agony was delicious. Waiting, anticipating and yearning somehow made this moment all the more precious. 

Closer, your mind screamed. You shared his air, coming from his parted lips. There was an unspoken need for more closeness, for less space to be between you two.

Closer, closer, closer. 

Just like clockwork, a noise came from the door, interrupting. You didn’t want to be parted from Shanks, not in the slightest. Yet, to preserve this moment and others that might come, he let you go, kneeling to pick up your book. 

A drunken Yasopp made his way down the corridor right after, barely speaking to you or the Captain. You heard him murmur something about showing them who’s aimless when he went inside. 

Your Captain, still looking at you, but further than you wished, nodded once in a silent “I’ll see you later” movement. The legend, the myth, standing in front of you. All those stories about his doings, all the fuss and glory and bounty. It constantly amazed you that, even though he was indeed legendary, he was still a man. 

A man who, despite having a complicated past and an even more complicated present, remained kind. 

His kindness was shown once more when, before leaving, he approached you and gently kissed your forehead. You could feel his agony, his yearning — a twin to your own.

There was a part of you that wanted to follow Shanks as he left, long steps towards his chambers. In fact, you wanted nothing more than to follow that man and continue your interaction, to finally feel more of him. But there was a force stronger than nature, an intuition, a voice that whispered you should let him go and come back to you when he’s ready. 

So, you did.

***

As the days went by since your last encounter with Shanks, you felt more and more afflicted by his absence. Nonetheless, you felt certain you did the right thing. 

Your body was on fire just remembering the way he held your hair, the way his eyes looked at you with delicious anticipation and warmth. 

It had been a long time since you felt this way, if you ever did. Sure, every now and then you craved sex and you didn’t mind finding someone in whatever port you were anchored to satisfy your needs. It was carnal, and it was good, mostly. 

However, this longing was different. It was a kind of interest you had rarely felt. The more Shanks you got, the more you wanted. 

And it wasn’t enough. Stolen glares, a touch of hands, laughing at the dinner table surrounded by the crew. It just wasn’t enough. You needed to smack that smirk right out of his face and then kiss it better. 

A couple weeks after that night, you could still feel Shanks’ hand on your cheek, you could sense his arm around you… The attraction was mutual, of that you were sure. 

You wondered if the agony of these days apart was mutual as well. 

Will it be long before he comes once more?, you were tossing and turning in your hammock, thoughts of Shanks flooding through your head.

The night had fallen quietly, and most of the crew was asleep. You only heard the slight snores and the waves crashing against the Red Force. The ship had not anchored since you last set sail, moving through the sea at a comfortable pace. 

You stood up quietly to not wake up anyone, and moved up quickly. Going out on the upper deck, getting some air and smelling the ocean beneath you. That was what you needed before trying (and most likely failing) to fall asleep once more — it would be good to have the air cool you down when you felt like you were burning up with need, with yearning. 

After passing through the corridor where you last spoke with Shanks, memories surrounding and consuming you like embers, you made your way out into the night. 

The relief of seeing the endless sky and the infinite waters surrounding you was immensurable. 

That thrill only lasted for a moment, however, because your eyes landed instantly on the figure covered by shadows, but whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. 

You began to turn around, intending to leave him be, when he said, “I can hear you”, nonchalantly. 

Your face contracted as you turned around, smiling and embarrassed. “Sorry, boss, I was just going to enjoy the silence for a while. Didn’t see you there”.

“Please”, he motioned to his side. An invitation and a promise of peace.

You walked towards him with as much caution as you could, your mind still hazy. His body was supported by the bulwark, and there was a cigarette half smoked in hand. 

He didn’t look over, respecting your need for stillness. 

You had no idea how long you stood there. It could have been hours, days or years. 

When you finally turned to him, he was turning to you too.

“This is weird”, you said.

“The sky is beautiful”, he said at the exact same time. He took a second to process your words, then smiled. “What’s weird?”.

You pointed to yourself and then to him. In his usual fashion, he just shrugged jovially, corners of his lips upward. “It’s good weird, you know, but still a little weird”.

“But seriously, what’s weird?”, he turned around, back facing the sea. “The fact that I wanted to hump your leg like a puppy?”

You laughed, happy to be met with the same humour as always. At least, you had a friend in him, regardless of the rest. 

“I would’ve let you”, you lifted your eyebrows in a knowing manner, teasing him. He was smiling, too. “The sky really is beautiful tonight”.

Obviously, you still wanted him. Damn, you would really let this man hump your leg if he was into it for real. You were a little kinky yourself and, truth be told, you were willing to try anything once. And to try with Shanks, of all people? What a privilege that would be.

Out of all the dirty, unholy things you wanted to try out in your life, you were lucky enough to have done most of it. There were a few times it just happened, and others you planned out with some partner. 

This whole situation made you think of the Captain’s kinks. What does he secretly wish for in the middle of night like this? Did he come up to the deck for air from the hotness of imagining a tad too much?

“You look like an ass guy”, you blurted out before even understanding what you were saying. Oh, the things insomnia and horniness can do to a girl. 

Shanks almost choked on smoke. “What makes you say that?”

You tilted your head like an interested dog would, trying to see any sort of disinterest or repulse in his features. Instead, all you found was genuine surprise and curiosity. “It’s a little controversial, right?”, he nodded, smile growing. “And it seems like you’re the kind of guy who likes it a little dirty”, he chuckled as you spoke, “and who would love to have it tight and a little painful”. His silence was deafening, even if his smile was still there, so you hit him playfully with your elbow. “Am I wrong?”.

“Oh”, only that sound came from him. You were still smiling. A pirate Captain, an Emperor of the New World, the legend, the myth. Right now, he was simply the man before you. Red hair, red cheeks. “Woman, are you trying to kill me?”

You didn’t answer, containing your laughter, amused by the situation. Hell, if it was weird, you didn’t mind making it weirder. At least, you both were having fun.

“Just wanted to check how blue your balls can get”, you turned around, elbows on the bulwark. 

“The answer is very”, he copied your motion, turning around as well. With you crunched over and him standing at full height, you felt like a devotee worshiping a god. Come to think of it, you wouldn’t mind worshiping this man. 

The sea wasn’t as agitated as usual on this night. A good counterpoint to your heart, that was almost beating out of your chest.

“I would love to see it”, you joked. It wasn’t that much of a joke, actually, but the situation demanded some humour. 

“Come get it, then”, was his response. He looked so calm in this whole situation.

You opened your mouth to speak, but words would not suffice. You were never that great at conversation anyway.

There was nothing left to say. Only to do. 

That’s why you stood up, adjusting your posture. Shanks immediately turned his body to yours, giving you his full attention, almost as if good posture was alarming — you could tell, by the twinkle in his eyes, that he was having as much fun as you. You got on your toes and threw your arms around his neck, in a dramatic fashion he certainly admired, and, at long last, brought your lips to meet his. 

Although Shanks was a little surprised you actually followed his instructions and went and got it, he reacted quickly. He kissed you back passionately, using his one arm to pull you closer. 

He kissed just like you thought he would — full of feeling, dominating but not aggressive. Intense. The kind of kiss so unbelievable that it would haunt you forever. His experience was clear in the way he kissed, not messy, not too much, just fully him.

He was much taller, and even though you were on your tip toes, he still had to lean down. That didn’t stop either of you. One hand moved through his hair — you had always dreamed of doing this — and the other held his neck as if he was getting away. By the way he held you, however, you could tell he wasn’t going anywhere soon. 

Warmth flooded you. Him, him, him. 

Heavens. For a man with only one arm, you could surely feel him everywhere. 

Your belly was turning with excitement and a feeling you didn’t really want to admit you felt. Right now, all that mattered was this proximity, this intimacy. 

The Captain, always aware of his surroundings, turned you so your bum hit the bulwark, and he lifted you with ease. When your eyes met his, you could tell he was looking for an answer, that he needed one.

He mirrored you this time. He would take anything you could give. He was choosing you, for whatever reason, and he wanted to give you all the time to choose him back. Never pushing you, never pressuring. 

There was no need for time. You had him right now. 

Your hand moved on his shirt, half-open in classical Shanks fashion. You felt his chest rise and fall beneath your hands. Taking advantage of the position, you pulled his white shirt towards you, bringing your lips together once more. 

How easy it was to kiss him, how very natural. It amazed you how instinctively you knew to wrap your legs around his waist, even if you were out on the deck. It was remarkable how his body moved with yours, matching every movement before you moved at all. His lips never left yours, his tongue rhythmically asking for passage to your mouth. It wasn’t as messy and guttural as one might think, but calculated to the point of making you wonder if this man was carefully made for you.

You moaned against his mouth, not able to control yourself. That made him bolder, hand moving to your leg and squeezing. You opened your legs more, allowing his body to come closer to you between them. 

“Fuck”, he muttered when your lips separated. You already missed him, already craved him, more so than before. You bit your lower lip, holding in a smile. His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged much like your own. “Let me fuck you”.

Yes. 

“Wow”, you said, trying to remain serious instead of taking all your clothes off and bending over in a common area of the ship, “Won’t even buy me dinner first, huh?”

He laughed loudly, even though you were acting all serious.

Although Shanks’ laugh was no cause for concern at the Red Force, it was the dead of night in the middle of nowhere. You shushed him and put a finger to his lip, the universal “shut up” sign. 

“Are you crazy? People will come here!”.

“Who cares?”, his voice sounded like a smile. Was that even possible? He kissed you gently as his hand caressed your thigh, making your sleeping gown raise and show more and more skin, which seemed to enchant him greatly. “I own everything around here, in case you haven’t heard”.

You let out a surprised sound. “You don’t own shit, boss”.

“Yeah, baby, talk dirty to me”, he gripped your thigh and kissed your neck playfully. You were giggling, happier than ever. The air was cold and the fantasy of moaning “boss” as Shanks was inside you had you hotter and even more bothered. 

You two were giggling and kissing, enjoying this moment, not wanting it to end. 

“Come to my chambers”, he said between kisses. His hand held you tightly, moving down towards your bum and squeezing every now and then. You always had a hunch the Captain was an ass man. 

“People will know something’s up when they wake to see I’m gone and then see me coming out of your room”. 

Your response only brought indifference. “And?”.

“Well, boss, I think having forty grown men prying won’t help us in any affair”, you separated from the kiss, holding his chin so his eyes could face yours. He was beyond beautiful, and a part of you, a possessive, unreasonable and irrational part of you, could only think mine, mine, mine, mine, mine. “And I’m pretty sure I’ll come back for more once I have a taste of you”.

“Don’t worry about them”, he replied. At this rate, with the hotness of your body, it would take very little talking to get you in his bed, despite your concerns. “We’re all that matters”, he kissed you lovingly, “Come with me”.

He took a step back and stretched out his hand.

You took it. 

***

You had been in Shanks’ quarters more than once, but never in a situation like this. One time, he was so drunk he threw up and you found yourself cleaning up as he fell asleep on the floor. There was this other time, when you were so nervous after losing a stupid game, that he just locked you in the room as punishment. He said you were grounded or something, and you had to stay until you were no longer in homicidal mode. Everyone laughed, and you broke a couple things out of vengeance. 

Now, however… This was different.

Shanks sat on his bed, not a care in the world. His cigarette went out, and he motioned to get another in his pocket, but thought twice. He looked at you, who were observing the maps on the walls, seemingly trying to play it cool, and chuckled. 

You turned around and met his gaze.

One step and you were standing in front of him, between his legs he so gloriously man-spread. 

He didn’t have to tell you to make yourself at home. You were home.

His hand touched you behind the knee, and you almost jumped in anticipation. He travelled upwards slowly, almost touching your butt and then not, just to go down your thighs again and repeat it all over again. It was torture. It was delicious.

You let your hands rest on his shoulders. His big, hard, muscular, manly shoulders. Damn, had he been working out? 

He finally stopped playing around and pulled you closer. You straddled his lap, letting your core dangerously close to his, as his hand stayed on your butt.

“I’m definitely an ass guy”, the way he laughed was surprisingly wholesome. You couldn’t help but to laugh back. 

“I knew it!”, you celebrated, raising your arms above your head.

Shanks took advantage of the movement, eye level with your tits, to kiss your chest gently. “But I have to admit, these make me wonder if I’m not a boob guy too”.

Your breath got caught in your throat.   

You wanted him to do something, to just tear your clothes and take you. Your eyes were closed, savoring the moment, and your hand moved down to his signature red hair then to his shoulders and then back. 

There was a beat of silence, of complete stillness. You were not even breathing as Shanks approached your chest and open mouthedly kissed your collarbone. 

You looked down and met his gaze, a serious expression on his face. His eyes searched for any hesitation, any doubt in yours, but he didn’t find any. He wouldn’t find any. This was irrevocably what you craved, intensely and deeply. 

You moaned when he resumed his ministrations on your skin. A gentle kiss near your chest, a peck on your neck. He explored with the expertise only a pirate could have.

Finally, he moved his hand to the front of your clothing and began to pull down. Once more his eyes searched you for a sign to stop. 

You mouthed more without making a sound.

Ever so sweetly, he pulled your night gown down and freed your breasts. You let out a whimper as he let out an animalistic sound. His hand gripped your thigh as a lifeline as he drove right in, kissing the skin and then licking where his lips just were. 

He nibbled at the soft skin of your chest, in a way you were sure would leave bruises, even if there was no force. The ghost of his lips would haunt you forever.

Without any warning, his hand pulled your clothes down to expose more skin. You moaned as he sucked one nipple, your pussy already clenching. At the same time you desperately wanted him to move south, you wanted this moment to last. 

His hand was on your waist, holding you for dear life as you rocked your hips lightly, experimenting. The motion caused a positive reaction, you realized as the man let out a sigh. 

“I have wanted this since I first laid eyes on you”, he confessed, moving to the other breast, licking and kissing and involving your nipple in his mouth. You moved your hips against him again, hoping to gain some relief, and he let out the prettiest moan you’d ever heard. 

“You had me since you first laid eyes on me, boss”, you replied. 

Your confession in between a shortened breath seemed to entice the man, for he lifted you off him with ease and threw you on the bed like a ragdoll. Then, almost as if he had read your mind, he ripped your night gown in half, exposing you to his fully clothed self. You gasped and his eyes darkened. 

There was something about the power dynamic… Something about being on display for him whilst he was clothed. The need you felt was brutal. He was up on his knees, opening your legs to make space for him, with excellent balance for a man with only one arm. 

Just like a damned clockwork, came a knock on the door. 

Shanks growled in frustration. “I’m busy”, was his harsh response as he resumed his ministrations on your body. He lifted one foot and kissed it with such care and adoration it made your heart flutter and your pussy to clench around nothing. 

“Just making sure everything’s alright, boss”, Benn’s voice came from the other side of the door, “You were nowhere to be found”.

“I’m in my room during the night! What’s wrong with that?”, he replied, still holding your leg up. You giggled at the situation, trying to remain quiet and failing. 

Beckman’s scuff was followed by his footsteps, moving away from the room. 

Truth be told, you had a hunch Shanks suffered from insomnia since long before you two had met. Meeting him in the dead of night, him offering to stay guard, all the parties that went well into the morning… The signs were clear.

It took one to know one, right?

Your heart was beating fast, but not only for the horniness. No. This had become something else the moment all the pieces of a puzzle connected in your head and you saw your Captain as not a myth, not a legend, not an Emperor or a pirate, but as a man. A flawed man, who had suffered so much in such a short life span. A man who looked at you and saw a version of yourself you’d grown to love. 

“Where were we?”, he smiled down at you, still teasing and charming, but you just rested your leg down and pulled him in. He looked surprised, almost confused, for a moment, before you joined his lips and yours once more.

You hoped the kiss would convey the desire and all the feelings you couldn’t quite name. 

The man murmured a ‘what’ as you pushed him down on the pillows and straddled him. 

It was different, to say the least, to be on top fully naked as the man beneath you was fully clothed, but you didn’t really care, not when Shanks opened that smile. The one that had the entire world stopping just to see it for a second.

You rocked your hips and made a sound you couldn’t recognize as you began to kiss his chest, opening his shirt to see more of him. More, more, more. 

You moved your body south, to the waistband of his pants. “These are ugly ass trousers, boss”, you commented, earning a laugh from him. “Maybe we should take it off… And then throw it into the ocean?”. 

It was true, you really did hate those pants. But that was not the reason why you wanted them off. 

Shanks scuffed jokingly. “You can do anything as long as you take ‘em off right now, love”.

The pet name caused your brain to short circuit for a beat. Love was a really strong word in your books. Yet, somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

You put a pin in those thoughts because there was something hard and hot calling you. 

The pants were quickly discarded into the floor, along with his white shirt. The laziness in Shanks took over and he let you do most of the work, but you didn’t mind. Not when there was something so interesting hiding in those ridiculous pants. Not when every word he said was a holy command to you. 

Your mouth went dry at the sight of Shanks, naked, laying in front of you like a five course meal. Not only that, but oh, his cock. You had no idea a dick could be that pretty. Long, thick, with a cute pink tip and veins that seemed put there by a skilled artist and not some randomness of nature. 

All of him seemed straight off a painting, to be honest. Even his missing limb, the place where your gaze stayed for more than a second. Enough to make him touch it, trying to remain lighthearted but a little tense nonetheless. 

“It’s an adjustment, really. The whole missing arm thing”, he said, tone playful, but you saw underneath it. There was pain lingering in his eyes. Physical pain, yes, but emotional pain too. There was a story there, one you hoped he would share whenever he was ready. 

You just kissed his entire body, from his legs to neck. You purposely skipped his cock, hard and glistening with pre-cum. Your hands followed your mouth, until you felt you had touched him everywhere. 

The last place you were going to caress was his left shoulder, the place where his arm used to be. As your mouth moved to it, he held your hair gently, stopping you. 

“You don’t have to”, his voice was a whisper. There was a lot of emotion in his eyes, and you hoped he could see it in yours too. 

“I want to”, you replied, confident he would stop you if he was uncomfortable. As long as you were concerned, though, all of him was made for your kisses, for your touches, for love. 

He let go of your hair, hand still on your head when you pressed your lips there for the first time. 

You looked at him to make sure everything was fine, and you were met with adoration. You proceeded, cocky smile growing in your face as you moved down his body again.

“Tease”, he messed with your hair, biting his lower lip. 

If he hoped for an answer, he would be waiting for a long time. After all, you were face to face with his dick once more, mouth watering and the unholiest of thoughts going through your mind.

Surely, he had made another snarky comment by now, but you were too far gone to listen. You licked a stripe from his base to the tip, and he gifted you with a delicious moan, one that went straight between your thighs, adding to the wetness. 

The licking and kissing part was easy. His dick was just too good and he even tasted good, too. But the sucking part could be a challenge, considering he was big and thick. You wouldn’t back down from a challenge, though. Oh, no. 

You remained relaxed as you wrapped your lips around the tip, using your tongue to stimulate him even more. You used your hand as well, softly rocking the part of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth yet. 

Even though you were relaxed, this was hard. Pun intended. 

Words of affirmation showered from his mouth, ‘so good’, ‘that’s it’, ‘you’re so pretty’. But you were far too focused on making him lose his mind. You looked at him best you could in this position, and fit more of him in your mouth.

More, more, more.

His hand was caressing your hair before tugging on it, mindlessly trying to make you take more. 

Captain’s orders, huh?

From the sheer size of him, you didn’t know if it would be possible, but you just relaxed your throat as you took more of him. Almost deepthroathing, almost all of him. 

There was saliva everywhere, but neither you nor Shanks seemed to care. He was far gone, muscles contracting as you moved your head up and down a little, turning to the right and to the left simultaneously. 

Finally, his eyes met yours again. 

The sight was too much for him. He pulled your hair away from his cock and pulled you to him, kissing you with so much intensity your teeth hit his in one moment.

Your body was above his, and his one hand was everywhere. When he finally touched you between your legs, you separated the kiss to breathe. Just one touch and you were already melting in his hand. 

“Not gonna last?”, he murmured in your ear, continuing to move his fingers through your folds, teasing your clit and then moving away, not letting any part of him go inside of you just yet. Your moan was a mix of a cry and a prayer. Him, him, him, it was all you could think.

You rocked your hips against his hand, trying to get more. More of something, more of anything, you just needed him. 

Thankfully, Shanks was an experienced man and knew how to read a body. He lift himself, sitting against the headboard with you on top of him, both your hands holding his shoulders and legs on either side of his thighs. Your entrance was dangerously close to his cock, and you felt your pussy pulsing and your heart beating with anticipation, with want. 

“You’re sure?”, Shanks whispered, searching for your eyes. No hesitation would be found there.

“What would you do if I said no?”, you joked, taking his cock in one hand to pump it once, twice, three times. He was half laughing from your comment, half moaning from the pleasure. 

“Probably cry”, his words were playful, but his eyes were lustful, “and then jerk off”. 

It was your turn to laugh, but the amusement was short lived, because he took advantage of your distraction to line himself and thrust his hips upwards, finally entering you. 

A gasp from you. A grunt from him. You threw your head back as you lowered your hips slowly. It was a good thing you two had been flirting forever and the anticipation got you wetter than the entire freaking ocean, because your Captain had a big dick, and it was hard to take him.

Your cunt was pulsing, craving more of him. His hand rested on your hips, and he began moving and instructing you to move too. You tried rocking your hips, but it was too much. Your clit was right on his pelvis, and it was just too good. 

Noticing you were a goner, Shanks took matters into his own hands. He pulled your body down, chest flushed with his, and began thrusting upwards in a delicious speed, starting out slow and the building. You let out little whimpers close to his ears, and each time you did he seemed to go even deeper. 

You wanted nothing more than for this man to bury himself in you. 

It would have been amazing to just lay on top of him as he fucked you with the precision of a professional. But you wanted more. 

You lifted your torso, sitting on him. In doing so, both of you moaned loudly. For a second, you worried someone might hear. To Hell with them. There was only this moment, only this feeling. 

You began riding him as if your life depended on it. Back and forth, hips dancing on top of your lover. The sounds were a perfect soundtrack to the moment. 

You reached your hands from his chest, where they had been for support, to your own breasts, twitching your nipples and grabbing them to maximize the feeling. 

The man looked starstruck to see you chasing your high, pleasuring himself, on his body. His mouth fell open the more you moved. He pressed his feet on the bed, grating you more stability as his thighs were behind you. 

You let your hands fall behind you, to where his thighs were. The new angle was explosive. 

The release you both craved so much was magnified by how long you both waited for this, to finally touch and feel each other. Once more, you found yourself desperate to get more but wanting the moment to last. 

How does a moment last forever? You weren’t really sure, but when Shanks took advantage of the position to draw lazy circles on your clit, you were sure time stopped. 

There would be a before and an after this. 

No sound came out of your mouth as you surfed the waves of your orgasm. You didn’t even have time to let him know you were cumming, you just did. And it was a coreshaking, unbelievable feeling.

As your body trembled from the stimulation, Shanks lifted himself up, sitting more than laying down now. He hugged you, bringing your chest close to his face and seizing movement as you came down from your high. 

Both your hands held his hair, and you opened your eyes to meet his. 

You thought there’d be a before and an after because of the crazy orgasm, but you were wrong. The before and after would be from the look in his eyes. 

You had seen adoration there before. Mischief, anger, annoyance, amusement. What you now saw, as he slowly began to thrust his hips upwards, were the four little letters that made a word you rarely said. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive. Not when he made you feel this good. 

“Stand up and bend over”, his tone left no room for discussion. 

“Ay ay, Captain”, you joked, sad to break contact but eager to see what was coming next. He scuffed and stood up too, going behind you and jokingly slapping your ass. 

You caught a glimpse of his dick when he stood, all pink and glistening with arousal. Your mouth watered. Perhaps you should’ve thought about protection, but, eh. Once again, who cares? Your mind was far too hazy for worry. 

His one hand touched your hips, forcing your face into the mattress and making your back arch even more. You turned your face, pressing your cheek on the soft blanket and putting both your knees on the bed, opening yourself up even more for him.

He stopped touching, and for a second, everything was quiet. Not even the ocean outside dared to make a sound.

When Shanks’ index finger moved gently through your entrance, collecting arousal, all the noise came back at once — the crashing of waves against the Red Force, his ragged breathing, something outside the room, your moans and whimpers. 

He seemed pleased with your reaction, collecting your juices and his on his fingers before pushing two of them in. This man’s goal might just be to kill you. You tried looking back further, to catch a glimpse of his face. 

He was so gorgeous it actually hurt. Sweat on his forehead, red hair falling on his forehead and eyes. Pecs so delicious it reminded you of a five course meal. His scars, his missing limp, all of it just made him more precious. 

Your eyes met when his fingers left your pussy, and, without a word, he lined himself and pushed. Even a few moments without his dick made it harder for him to enter you again. He murmured something along the lines of ‘so tight’ before he began thrusting again. 

Hips colliding against yours, time and time again. The force was almost brute, but you loved it. Was it possible to feel so passionate for a cock? Maybe, and if not, you were surely making the groundbreaking discovery that it was.

The position allowed him to go deeper, harder, and you both loved it. You were moaning, he was saying mumbled words affirming just how good you were for him.

“This cunt was made for me, love”, he said. “All mine”.

You shivered at the statement. Dear God, you felt the knot in your lower belly tightening again. 

Shanks’ thrusts were sloppier, uncoordinated and impossibly harder. You loved the intrusion, the aggression. For all you cared at that moment, he could just tie you to the bed and fuck you until you melted into a puddle.

You clenched around him, purposefully. At that, he reacted with the prettiest moan you’d ever heard. 

“Where do you want it?”, he asked and you loved that he did. 

“Inside”, your voice was shakier than you expected. “Please, inside”, you just didn’t want him to leave you. You wanted all of him in you.

He squeezed your hips, pushing you flush on the bed and laying on top of you. Having a two meters man with his full weight above you was hard, but even more so, it was fun and warm and dirty. His hips kept pistoling into you.

His mouth was pampering kisses on your ear, and you could feel and hear his breathing. 

He didn’t announce he was coming. Instead, he just thrusted so hard and so deep it made you let out a little scream. Ropes of white shot in you, and he kept moaning as his long release marked you as own. 

It was the perfect moment for a declaration, but you needed to stay in this bubble where nothing else other than you two existed. You needed to just feel his chest against your back and his softening dick inside. 

When he began moving to lay by your side, your hands flew behind you to keep him in place a little longer. “Stay”, you managed to say. “A little more, please”. 

He didn’t answer, instead, he just complied. He just kissed the side of your face, gentle and loving. 

A moment passed. Maybe two. It could have been years or seconds you stayed put beneath him, just feeling his body and his kisses. 

When he finally left your body, you whimpered. He laid by your side, stomach up whilst your chest was down. 

You were face to face, feeling each other's breath.

“Hi”, nonchalantly he said, a smile already growing. 

“Hey”, you were able to let out. You felt absolutely destroyed and ready for more. 

“Sleep here”, he begged, reaching for your hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed it. Romantic. 

You nodded, moving towards him, curling up on his chest. His cum was dripping, probably making a mess on his sheets. At least they weren’t your sheets.

The air felt lighter, somehow. His chest was moving up and down beneath your head when you cuddled even more in him. 

The moonlight cast a pale light in the room. 

***

“My thighs hurt”, was the first thing you said when he woke up and opened those beautiful eyes. You were already awake for a few minutes, and you had more than enough time to go to his mirror and check out the red bite and hand marks on your bottom. 

Promptly, he guffewed. You took one of the many pillows on his bed to hit him with it. 

“Shut up! Everyone will hear!”

“I think that ship has sailed, darling”, with only one hand and laying on his back, he still managed to be dexterous. After taking it from your hands, he threw the pillow away, smiling. “I wasn’t the one screaming last night”.

“Oh, that could be anyone of your floozys”, you brushed him off, crossing your arms and pouting like a child. 

He played the offended part, gasping. If only there were pearls around his neck for him to clutch! You rolled your eyes, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a smile and failing miserably. 

He pulled you closer, bringing your chest to his back, cuddling. An Emperor, cuddling. You never thought you’d see the day, and yet, it felt so natural. You let him adjust himself behind you, and you felt his morning hard on deliciously on your back. 

His lips first met your shoulders, then your neck, and finally your ear. “You can be my floozy any time you want”, he whispered. The words themselves weren’t all that seductive, but the way he said it, morning voice raspy and the ghost of last night all over you… That was something else. 

A part of you wished you could be more mysterious and hold in your laugh. With Shanks, you just couldn’t. Your smile, your laughter, it all came naturally. He had that effect on you, apparently.

You weren’t one to share your dreams and ambitions that easily, but, with your Captain, it felt as simple as breathing.

You rolled your hips against his morning wood, teasing him. 

“Time for round two?”, he asked. His voice was all the stimulation you needed. 

You turned to meet his face and join your lips. 

“Out of how many?”, after a few pecs, you inquired. After all, a girl had a right to know if it was a one night and morning after thing, or more. 

“How many numbers are there?”

“Infinite, as far as I know”

“There’s your answer”, he barely finished saying the words before kissing you deeply. He moved over you, towering over you the best he could with only one arm.

It wasn’t long before you were a mess of moans and orgasms again. 

***

The morning came with an unbearable heat. You managed to sneak out of the Captain’s room and go to your chambers quietly, avoiding any prying gazes. Since he destroyed your clothing, you borrowed something of his. Now, out on the deck covered in sunlight going to the kitchen for a late breakfast, your tank top and shorts were soaked in sweat, and the entire crew was complaining when you joined them. 

“Somebody opened the gates of hell”.

“I haven’t felt this hot since I snuck into an oven as a kid”. 

You laughed as you reached for a muffin at the breakfast table. 

In more ways than one, you were immensely grateful this was your life. Grown men bitching about the weather and all. 

The door to the kitchen opened with little noise. If you weren't so deeply aware of Shanks’ presence at any given minute, you might have missed his quiet entrance. There were no good mornings, only a calm smile as he walked to the head of the table, passing through his trusted mates and yourself. 

What you didn’t expect — and probably no one did — was that the Captain would stop behind your chair, hand on your shoulder, and lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

Intimate. Lovable. 

Public. 

Lucky Roux’s food fell from his fork. For a couple seconds, one could hear a pin drop. Perhaps they heard your heart too, almost beating out of your chest.

But then, as quickly as the silence came, it was gone. 

The clinking of silverware, chairs moving and footsteps around the room, the laughter from Yasopp as Benn pointed to Roux and said “you owe me one hundred berries”. Shanks simply moved with ease through the room.

Oh, you were going to find out what were the terms of this bet later. 

You looked over to where he sat at your side, at his usual place at the head of the table, and the look you were met with made your heart melt. You were sure by now your face was redder than his hair, but, to paraphrase your Captain, who the hell cares? 

Amidst the common chaos, he mouthed in silence three little words to you, reaching out to hold your hand. Eight letters, so simple, yet it was everything. Your heart stopped for a second and, time again, the entire world faded. There were only you two. In all the years you’d known him, there were only ever you two. You held him back, smiling and blushing upon his gaze. 

A pirate takes what they want, whether it’s legal or not.

It wouldn’t matter. Laws were chains to most men of the sea. Rules were a joke, whispered warnings, and the taste of freedom was far too sweet to surrender. Most pirates were selfish, self-serving, greedy, chasing power, wealth, or notoriety.

Shanks was not most pirates.

Selfish, perhaps. Self-serving, maybe. Greedy? Never. He was a different breed entirely. He was adventurous. Free. Freedom was the treasure he lived for and the same freedom he offered to those he cared about. His crew, his friends, his allies and even you.

You had been nothing special at first. A girl stuck in a small East Blue village, a life of predictable routines and unfulfilled dreams. But Shanks saw something others never did. A spark hidden behind your quiet demeanor, a fire in your eyes when they met the horizon. You stared at the sea as if it were a challenge, a promise, and perhaps a question: Would anyone dare follow?

Shanks did.

He approached you one evening as the sun dipped below the waves, painting the sky in streaks of gold and crimson. Your hair caught the wind, your eyes shimmering with the reflection of the open sea. “ Ever thought of sailing? ” he asked, casually, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Not as a command, not as an obligation but as a possibility.

You laughed, thinking he was joking. “ Me? Sail? I- ”

He smiled, the kind of smile that made the world pause for a heartbeat. “ I’m serious. You can choose. Stay here, live as you’ve always lived…or come with me. See the world, and meet its wonders. ”

The fire in your heart answered before your lips could. That was the moment you became a part of his story, and he a part of yours.

Life aboard his ship was nothing like you imagined. It was messy, chaotic, and beautiful. You learned to climb the rigging, navigate by the stars, and laugh, because Shanks would laugh louder than anyone else, proving that nothing could ever be taken too seriously. He celebrated life in its purest form, and he made sure you did too.

Yet, amid all the adventures, he never lost sight of you. Not in the way that suffocates or confines, but in the way that sees and cherishes. He respected your freedom as fiercely as he did his own. Every choice was yours to make, every path your own to take. But he was always there steady, unwavering, a touchstone amid the storm of life at sea.

Months turned into years, and the bond between you deepened like the sea itself, vast, unpredictable, and enduring. You laughed at the same jokes, braved storms together, and shared quiet moments beneath the stars. And slowly, unspoken but inevitable, a promise took root.. a love not bound by land, not confined by chains, but forged in trust, and freedom.

It had been unexpected. Neither of you planned it. You thought yourselves too wild, too unmoored to settle. But here you were: two hearts intertwined, two souls daring to carve a life from adventure, laughter, and loyalty.

You had each other, and that, Shanks believed, was the greatest freedom of all.

The sea had a rhythm of its own, a pulse that seemed to sync with your heartbeat over time. Days blurred into nights and nights into days, but the ocean never felt the same twice. Waves whispered secrets against the hull, gulls cried overhead, and the wind carried the scent of salt and freedom. And through it all, Shanks was there.

He wasn’t the type to hover or fuss. That wasn’t him. But if danger ever crept close, his presence was immediate, sharp, and unyielding, like a sudden gust cutting across the deck. You could feel it even before your eyes met his, an instinct, honed over years of life on the edge of lawlessness.

One morning, the sun had barely begun to warm the horizon, and you were leaning against the rail, the chill biting your cheeks. A smaller ship appeared in the distance, sails taut, approaching fast. Your first instinct was excitement; the thought of a potential raid or trade made your pulse race. Shanks, however, moved differently.

“ Stay close, ” he said, his voice low but carrying over the wind. He didn’t sound alarmed, just alert. Protective. His eyes scanned the approaching vessel like a hawk watching prey, calculating, measuring. And in that moment, you realized it wasn’t ownership you felt from him, not control but a fierce, almost instinctual care that made your heart swell.

The crew scrambled as the ship drew nearer, weapons readied, orders barked, but you noticed something odd. Shanks didn’t shout. He simply moved among his men, guiding, redirecting, subtly positioning everyone, and yet always aware of you. One of the crew caught your sleeve, worried about the approaching pirates, and you felt Shanks’ hand brush your back, a small touch, grounding, saying silently, I’ve got you.

The enemy ship’s flag was raised, black with a red emblem. Shanks squinted, tilted his head, then laughed, a rich, unrestrained sound that cut through the tension. “ Well, well…looks like they’re in a hurry for trouble. ” He drew his sword slowly, spinning it in a way that seemed more casual than threatening. But you saw the precision in his movements, the promise that no harm would come near you if he could prevent it.

The skirmish that followed was chaos, but also beauty in its rawest form. Shouts, the clash of metal, the spray of sea, all of it interwoven with moments of quiet. Amid it, Shanks’ attention flicked to you more than once. He wanted you safe, free, and unscathed, even as he thrived in the danger around you.

After the fight, when the other ship fled, you found yourself leaning against the mast, heart racing, hands trembling. Shanks approached, brushing water and sweat from his hair, eyes glinting with both amusement and concern.

“ You’re shaking, ” he said softly. Not a reprimand, not a question that demanded explanation, just a statement of fact. His hand hovered near yours for a moment, almost like a shield, and when you didn’t move, he gave a small shrug and smiled. “ Good. That means you’re alive. And alive is better than…well, anything else. ”

You laughed weakly, trying to steady your breathing. “ You make it sound so simple. ”

He crouched slightly, tilting his head as he studied you. “ It is simple. Life’s simple. Survive, laugh, and don’t get yourself killed. ” Then, leaning closer, he whispered, almost conspiratorially, “ Though I won’t forgive you if you try. ” His grin widened, teeth flashing in the morning light.

And yet, even as he teased, you sensed the edge beneath his words, the same edge that kept you safe. That edge, sharp as a blade, was tempered with care, and it thrilled and comforted you all at once.

Days later, under the vast night sky, you found yourself atop the crow’s nest, gazing at constellations while Shanks worked the sails below. The wind tugged at your hair, the stars reflected in your eyes, and the sea stretched endlessly before you. Then, a shout from below: “ Captain! Someone’s approaching! ”

You felt a familiar stir of anticipation, and somewhere in the pit of your stomach, a flicker of unease. But before panic could set in, a hand, warm, confident, steady rested on your shoulder. 

“ I see it, ” Shanks said, calm, controlled. “ And it’s nothing we can’t handle. ”

You turned to him, meeting his gaze. In the darkness, his eyes shone like polished amber, fierce and untouchable. “ You always know, ” you murmured. 

“ I’ve learned a thing or two from the sea, ” he replied, voice low, almost secretive. “ And one of them is: you never let someone you care about walk into danger alone. Not unless they choose to. And even then… ” He let the sentence hang, unspoken but heavy with meaning.

As the ship sailed under the moon’s silver glow, you realized the truth of what life with Shanks meant. Freedom wasn’t just running wild, laughing at the law, or chasing treasure. Freedom was knowing that someone would stand beside you, sword in hand, heart tethered to yours, not to possess, but to protect.

The days at sea were usually predictable in their unpredictability, storms, squalls, or the occasional merchant ship but today, a different tension hovered over the ship, subtle but undeniable.

You noticed it first when one of the newer crewmates, a wiry man named Mammon, lingered too long near the deck where you were repairing sails. His glances were sharp, assessing, like he was measuring something he wasn’t supposed to care about. Shanks noticed too, of course but not in the way you might think.

He didn’t scowl. He didn’t confront Mammon immediately. He simply watched. From across the deck, leaning casually against the rigging, his eyes followed every movement, subtle but unwavering. The weight of his gaze was enough to make Mammon shift uncomfortably under it, though he didn’t leave.

“ You’re staring again, ” you whispered, brushing your hands on your trousers as if to hide your unease.

Shanks didn’t smile, not yet. “ I’m watching, ” he said simply, and the calmness in his tone carried a quiet authority that needed no explanation. “ He’s testing boundaries. I don’t like it. ”

You felt a pang of worry. Is it jealousy? you wondered, a small twinge twisting in your chest. But the way Shanks stood there, quiet, controlled wasn’t jealousy. It was something sharper, more refined: protectiveness. He wasn’t trying to claim you; he was making sure no one else could take advantage of your trust or safety.

By evening, the tension came to a head. Mammon approached the railing where you were standing, pretending to inspect the horizon, but his words were careless.

“ Ever think about leaving the captain behind? ” he asked, leaning just a little too close. “ Life’s bigger than this ship. ”

You bristled. “ I think my life is exactly where I want it, ” you said firmly, your voice stronger than you felt.

Before Mammon could reply, Shanks’ shadow fell over him. One hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, the other tucked casually in his coat pocket, but the presence was enough.

“ Life’s bigger than this ship? ” Shanks repeated, tilting his head with that easy smile of his, but there was ice under the charm. “ And yet you seem to forget that freedom isn’t just about leaving, it’s about choosing. And she chose this life. ”

Mammon’s eyes flicked to yours, and then back to Shanks, understanding in a flash that the pirate before him was not to be trifled with. He muttered something about fresh air and moved away, finally leaving you alone.

Shanks turned to you then, his hand brushing yours lightly. Not a possessive gesture, just a touch that said, I'm with you.

“ You okay? ” he asked.

You nodded, but your chest still felt tight. “ I am…thanks to you. ”

“ Good, ” he said, voice softening. “ Because you don’t need anyone else to fight your battles. But I’ll always be here if someone tries to make it harder. ”

The subtle difference between what he felt and what Mammon had mistaken for jealousy struck you. Shanks’ concern wasn’t about ownership; it was about care, about safety, about ensuring your freedom stayed intact. The line between love and possession had never been clearer.

The two of you sat atop the mast, legs dangling over the edge, the stars spread out like scattered diamonds across the ink-black sky. Shanks hummed quietly, the tune almost lost to the sound of the waves, and his arm rested lightly against your shoulder.

“ You know, ” he said after a moment, “ I could’ve handled that differently. Made him fear me, or said things he’d never forget. ”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “ But you didn’t? ”

“ No, ” he said, smiling faintly. “ Because he wasn’t the threat. The threat would have been someone thinking they could decide your life for you. And that…that I can’t allow. ”

You leaned against him, breathing in the salty night air. “ I like how you do it. Quiet. Not angry. Just…watching. ”

“ Because that’s how you stay free, ” he murmured. “ And I like knowing you’re free. More than anything else. ”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The ship rocked gently and the ocean whispering against the hull.

With Shanks, you could fly anywhere, face anything, and still feel safe, loved, and utterly unbound. In that knowledge, your heart was at ease. For the first time in your life, the vastness of the sea didn’t feel daunting. It felt like home.

The moon hung low over the Red-Haired Pirates’ ship, its silver glow bouncing off the waves. Below deck, the ship was quiet, mostly. You were curled up under a blanket, fast asleep, completely unaware of the disaster brewing above.

Above, the deck was anything but calm. Shanks, bottle in hand and flushed from both rum and emotion, teetered like a majestic, unsteady king on the edge of the railing. His hair was a mess, a few strands plastered to his sweaty forehead, and tears glimmered like tiny lanterns in his eyes.

“ SHE’S….SHE’S THE BEST! ” he bellowed, voice echoing across the deck and probably scaring the nearby fish. “ THE ENTIRE SEA…THE SKY…THE STARS….THEY DON’T HOLD A CANDLE TO HER! ”

Benn Beckman groaned, rubbing his temples. “ Oh gods above…here we go again. ”

“ Yeah, I think I’m gonna be sick from the love, ” Yassop muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hongo leaned lazily on the mast, shaking his head. “ Or from the rum. Or both. ”

Building Snake didn’t bother hiding the small smirk tugging at his lips. “ This is….something.”

Shanks stumbled forward, nearly tipping into the ocean, and flung his arms wide like he was giving the world a very heartfelt, very drunk TED Talk. “ AND SHE-..SHE LETS ME SAIL WITH HER! ME! OF ALL PEOPLE! SHE... SHE TRUSTS ME! I—I.. ”

He hiccupped violently, wiping at his tears, which did nothing but smear across his cheeks. “ HELL, I’LL MARRY HER!”

Benn froze, blinking. “ …Shanks. You already married her. ”

Shanks’ head snapped up, eyes wide and shimmering like twin lanterns. “ I DID?! I… I—oh gods—even better! I—hic!—I would marry her again! A thousand times! I would—hic!—fight the sea itself, wrestle every storm, and then propose with cannonballs if I had to! ”

Lucky Roo snorted, barely keeping it in. “ Wrestle storms and propose with cannonballs…classic Boss. ”

Shanks waved his arms dramatically, nearly toppling again. “ AND HER LAUGH! OH GODS, HER LAUGH! IT’S.. IT’S—like cannon fire… but in the best possible way! I… I… I CAN’T EVEN! SHE MAKES ME WANT TO SING LIKE A DRUNK SEAGULL, AND I… I- ”

He fell face-first onto the deck, hiccupping and rolling slightly, bottle sliding away. “ SHE’S SLEEPING RIGHT NOW! ASLEEP! SAFE! AND I… I.. I LOVE HER SO MUCH! ”

Benn muttered under his breath, exasperated, “ Someone…someone tie him to the mast before he starts declaring war on the ocean itself. ”

“ Or before he starts crying in all of our ears, ” Yassop added, shaking his head.

Hongo shrugged. “ I’m done. Let him be a disaster. ”

Building Snake smirked. “ I mean… it’s entertaining. A legendary pirate reduced to puddle-level simping.”

Lucky Roo leaned against the railing, chuckling so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes. “ Look at him! He’s actually trying to out-love the ocean. I can’t even. ”

Shanks rolled dramatically onto his back, gazing at the stars with one hand clutching his chest. “ EVERY STAR… EVERY WAVE… EVERY PIRATE—hic!—EVERYTHING… IT’S… NOTHING.. COMPARED TO HER! ”

“ And yet, ” Benn muttered dryly, “ he thinks shouting at the sky will convince her of that. ”

“ SHUT UP, BENN! ” Shanks roared, sitting upright, eyes sparkling with drunken determination. “ I… I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER! I LOVE HER! ”

He flopped onto his stomach again, sobbing softly, hiccupping between every tearful declaration. “ AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE HER! SHE DOESN’T KNOW… SHE DESERVES… SHE DESERVES THE ENTIRE WORLD! ”

Lucky Roo, barely containing his laughter, nudged one of the younger deckhands. “ I’ve never seen a pirate this melodramatic before. It’s…beautiful. ”

Benn, Yassop, Hongo, and Snake all groaned in various degrees of exasperation, but even they had to admit, it was kind of adorable.

Shanks rolled to his back again, arms wide like a victorious general, hiccupping, tears streaming down his face. “ AND I’LL MARRY HER AGAIN! YES! A THOUSAND TIMES! I WOULD—hic!—I WOULD FIGHT EVERY—EVERYTHING FOR HER! ”

Lucky Roo collapsed into laughter. “ I can’t… I just can’t… ”

And there he stayed, the Red-Haired Pirate of legend, sprawled across the deck, loudly, dramatically, and hilariously simping for his asleep wife, while the crew alternated between exasperation and amusement, the moonlight catching the glint of tears on his flushed face.

Below deck, you slept peacefully, unaware that the loudest, goofiest, and most hopelessly in-love pirate in the world was proclaiming his undying devotion in a very, very public and very, very drunk-way.

The ship was quiet, but not perfectly so. The remnants of last night’s revelry lingered in every corner. Empty bottles rolled lazily across the deck, the smell of spilled rum mixed with sea salt, and the creak of the wooden ship sounded unusually loud in the stillness.

The crew were scattered across the deck, passed out in improbable positions. Benn’s hat had fallen over his face. Yassop was draped over a barrel like a human hammock. Hongo snored softly on a coil of rope. Even Snake was snoring, head resting on Lucky Roo’s shoulder. It was a scene of total chaos, the aftermath of too much celebration, and yet it was peaceful.

Shanks stirred first. His eyes cracked open, still bleary and red from sleep or maybe from last night’s emotions and he yawned loudly, hiccupping mid-yawn. The bottle in his hand had rolled away, but he didn’t care. His mind was already elsewhere.

He stumbled, barely upright then steadied himself against the railing. The sun was just beginning to stretch its fingers across the horizon, painting the sea in soft gold and pink. He took a shaky breath, still feeling the lingering warmth of rum in his chest, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

His gaze shifted below deck, where he had left you sleeping.

There you were, curled up in a blanket, hair spread over the pillow, breathing soft and steady. Even half-asleep, your presence seemed to fill the entire room with warmth. Shanks’ chest tightened in a way only you could do to him, and he let out a hiccupping chuckle.

Careful not to wake the crew or you, if he could help it, he stumbled down the steps, each step a wobbly negotiation with gravity.

When he finally reached you, his smile softened into something entirely different: gentle, reverent, full of adoration. He paused for a moment, just watching you breathe, memorizing the curve of your face, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair caught the faint morning light.

Without thinking too much, he crawled slowly, deliberately, over to you, careful not to jostle you awake.

“ Morning… my love… ” he murmured softly, hiccupping. His voice was low, intimate, uncharacteristically quiet for the Red-Haired Pirate, who had spent most of the night shouting at the stars about how wonderful you were.

He reached out, draping an arm over you, tugging you close. You stirred slightly, shifting in your sleep, but didn’t wake. Shanks’ cheek rested against your hair, warm, rum-scented, and entirely devoted.

“ You…you’re safe and I’m here…Always… always here, ” he whispered, closing his eyes against your hair. “ No storm, no pirate, no ocean..nothing could touch you while I’m around. Not today. Not ever. ”

A quiet breath, a hiccup, then a soft sigh. He hugged you closer, just holding you, the way someone holds something precious they never want to let go of. He could feel your warmth against him, the rhythm of your breathing, and it settled him more than any sea or adventure ever could.

For a while, the world outside, the sleeping, snoring crew, the gentle sway of the ship, the faint pink of morning sunlight didn’t matter. There was only this: you, him, and the soft, quiet sanctuary of a hug that said more than words ever could.

Even drunk, even loud, even chaotic Shanks had never felt more at peace.

And in that moment, wrapped around you, he knew exactly what freedom meant: not the open sea, not adventure, not treasure but this. You.

The world could wait.

The warmth of Shanks’ embrace pulled you gently from sleep. At first, your eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light that filtered below deck. The ship swayed lightly, a gentle rhythm that usually made you feel at peace. Today, though it was interrupted by the faint, unmistakable scent of alcohol lingering in the air.

“ Shanks… ” you murmured softly, trying not to startle him. His face was nuzzled into your hair, still flushed from sleep or last night’s rum and he gave a contented, sleepy sigh.

“ Mmm… morning, my love, ” he mumbled, voice rough and thick with sleep. His arm tightened around you instinctively, as if even in slumber he feared letting go.

You wrinkled your nose. “ Shanks….you smell like a tavern, ” you said, half-amused, half-exasperated. “ I told you not to drink so much… ”

He was mumbling incoherently, then buried his face deeper in your hair. You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “ One of these days, I’m going to have to give you a proper scolding for this, ” you teased, gently adjusting your body so you were more comfortable.

Shanks shifted slightly in his sleep, letting you take the lead. Your arms curled around him, guiding him into a more snug, protective position. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, slow breaths syncing together. You chuckled softly at how utterly unbothered he seemed by last night’s antics.

“ Better? ” you whispered, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

He groaned softly, hugging you closer without even opening his eyes. “ Mm… better… you’re…… perfect… ” he mumbled, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he could somehow hold onto the feeling forever.

Your heart swelled. You stroked his hair gently, careful not to wake him too abruptly. “ I love you, ” you murmured, voice barely louder than a sigh.

“ Love…you too, ” he muttered in response, sleepy, his voice muffled against your hair. His hold tightened just slightly, and you could feel the slow, steady beat of his heart relax.

You let yourself settle into the quiet comfort of him, the sway of the ship, and the lingering warmth of his embrace. The scent of rum and the faint traces of last night’s chaos faded against the safety of this moment.

Shanks, still half-drunk, half-asleep, fully content, let out a satisfied sigh and melted further into your arms. You felt him drift back into sleep, murmuring incoherent but unmistakably affectionate words in the quiet of the morning.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, and let him rest. For now, there was nothing else in the world that mattered but the two of you, tangled in warmth, love, and the slow, comforting rhythm of the sea.

Shanks slept satisfied, and you stayed there, holding him close, knowing that this.. this simple, quiet moment was more precious than any treasure in the world.

The first rays of sun spilled across the deck, lighting up the aftermath of the previous night’s chaos. Empty bottles, spilled rum, and snoring crew members were scattered in every direction, creating what could only be described as organized chaos.

Shanks, blissfully unaware of the world outside, was still curled around you below deck. His arm was draped over your waist, and his face was buried in your hair. You stirred slightly, savoring the warmth and security of his hold, but let him sleep, still half-drunk, half-sleeping, and completely smitten.

Above deck, the groans of the waking crew began.

“ Ugh… my head… ” Yassop muttered, rubbing his temple as he rolled off a barrel.

“ Never. Again, ” Hongo added, collapsing onto the deck with a dramatic groan.

Lucky Roo peeked around a stack of crates, snickering. “ I think Boss went full melt last night. ”

“ Full what? ” Benn asked, lifting his hat from his face to reveal a very unimpressed expression.

Snake, standing nearby and barely able to contain his laughter, muttered, “ He’s gonna get in trouble if he wakes her up like that. ”

Curiosity or perhaps mischief got the better of Benn, Yassop, and Hongo. They crept down the stairs, trying to see what their captain had been babbling about all night.

And then they saw it.

Shanks sleeping like a content, drunken teddy bear with his arm around his wife, who was now fully awake and adjusting herself to curl closer to him. His face was flushed, lips slightly parted, murmuring soft, incoherent words. His hand occasionally twitched as if emphasizing a point, probably about how amazing you were.

Benn snorted, shaking his head. “ Of course he does this. Who else would melt like a puddle over his wife while half-drunk? ”

Yassop groaned loudly. “ I’m going to regret living on this ship. ”

Hongo simply shook his head, muttering, “ I give up. ”

Lucky Roo, however, doubled over in laughter, pointing a finger. “ Look at him! Boss’ a disaster. And a cute disaster! ”

“ Disaster is one word for it, ” Benn muttered dryly, “ melted puddle of goo is another. ”

Shanks stirred slightly, mumbling in his sleep, “ Don’t.. leave her…” His voice was muffled against your hair, completely oblivious to the audience.

You giggled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “ Shhh… he’s asleep. Let him be. ”

Yassop shook his head, chuckling. “ You really are the only one who can handle this. Anyone else would have run screaming. ”

Benn sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. “ I think I’m going to need another drink just to recover from watching this. ”

As the crew slowly dispersed, some snickering, some grumbling, you adjusted yourself closer to Shanks, wrapping your arms around him. He pulled you in tighter instinctively, murmuring in his sleep, “ Love you… ”

“ I love you too, ” you whispered softly, pressing your cheek to his.

Shanks sighed contentedly, finally letting the chaos of the world fade completely. The Red-Haired Pirate, drunk, dramatic, and completely hopeless in love, slept satisfied in your arms, while the crew outside shook their heads, muttered complaints, and secretly smiled at the ridiculous, beautiful mess that was their captain.

And in that quiet, chaotic, sunlit moment below deck, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you, perfect, happy, and utterly in love.

“Really? Oh, let me see!”

Slowly, they open their hand to show you two small rings made from elaborately folded paper. Your breath catches at the sight, gaze flicking from the rings to their face, and back again.

“These aren’t permanent, of course,” They say hesitantly as you continue to stare without answering. “I’ll get you a real ring when I actually propose. I just, um. Wanted to give you something in the meantime. I don’t know when we’ll dock next, and I don’t know if that town will have any nice rings, so I’m worried it will be a while before I can actually propose to you.” Tears bead in your eyes as you push yourself to your feet, stepping closer to him, “These are… beautiful. Did you make them yourself?”

They nod, blush darkening, “I know they’re not the best, I just–”

“They’re perfect,” You cut them off, reaching out to grab their arms as a tear slips free, tracing a path down your cheek. “You… I can’t believe…” You give up, unsure of how to voice your emotions and just throw your arms around them.

When finally you separate, they have a smile that mirrors your own as they slip one of the rings onto your left ring finger. You sniffle, admiring it. Sure, it’s just a piece of paper, but it means so much more.

As you slip their matching ring onto their ring finger, you feel the wordless promise that settles into place. Your heart feels like it could burst at the reassurance that the two of you will spend forever loving each other. You know they’ll choose a nice ring to propose to you with, but it would be hard to find something that tops the little piece of paper currently adorning your finger.

Portgas D. Ace, Roronoa Zoro, Koby, Trafalgar Law, Usopp, Vivi, Iceberg, Paulie, Franky, Bartolomeo, Buggy

Pauses, then says “You’re my best friend”

The full moon light shines through the window, casting a soft glow over the bed. Your head rests on their chest as their hands toy with your hair.

You trace your fingers absentmindedly over their ribs as you speak. Your voices are hushed whispers, as if speaking too loudly would break the peaceful aura of the room.

“Falling into the water wasn’t my fault! They pushed me!” You giggle, poking their ribs as you speak. You can feel their chest vibrate under your cheek as they laugh too.

“They did not push you, they just startled you.” They tug your hair lightly, making you pout.

“Same thing,” You grumble. “At least I didn’t choke on water at dinner.”

“Hey! That was traumatic, you can’t tease me about it,” They laugh, wrapping their arms tighter around you as they shake their heads.

“Hmph. Guess we’re even, then.”

“I guess so,” They kiss the top of your head, an easy silence falling over the two of you.

You yawn, shifting in their hold to get comfortable as you feel yourself inching closer to sleep.

“Tired?” They tease softly, loosening their hold to let you move.

You nod, a little smile on your face, “I’m falling asleep.”

“Good night, then. I love you,” They murmur into your hair, another kiss falling to the top of your head.

“Good night, I love you too.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then they take a breath, “You know, you’re my best friend.” Their voice is quiet, almost shy.

You blink your eyes open, shifting again so that you’re looking up at their face. You’re smiling, tiredness momentarily forgotten. “You’re mine, too.”

“Good. There isn’t anyone I’d rather talk to at the end of the day. Or any time of day, really,” They laugh, eyes soft as they look down at you.

Your cheeks flush under their gaze. You push yourself up to press your lips to theirs in a soft, welcome kiss. You can feel them smile into the kiss as they match your movements.

The break apart is slow, both of you reluctant to break contact with the other. You can’t resist one last peck before you lay back down on his chest, drifting off to sleep with a smile on your face.

Sanji, Usopp, Shanks, Penguin, Shachi, Nami, Koala, Baby 5, Ace, Sabo, Luffy

I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

Your eyes are shut as you lean over the rail, smiling as you feel the sea spray on your face. The brisk wind raises goose bumps on your arms but you’re not ready to go back inside yet.

A hand settles on your lower back, startling you. Your head turns to see them coming to stand at your side. They lean against the railing, braced on one elbow. The hand on your back rubs absentminded circles.

“Hey,” Your voice is quiet as you smile at them before turning your attention back to the sea.

“Hey,” They press a kiss to the top of your head, the word murmured into your hair. “Whatcha doing?”

You shrug, “Just looking. Getting some air, I guess.”

“Can I join you?”

“Of course,” You smile at them, leaning closer to them as you look out together, falling into a companionable silence.

The sea stretches on for miles, no land in sight. The ocean sparkles underneath the beating sun, foamy white tops the only thing breaking up the landscape. You inhale through your nose, savouring the smell of the ocean air. It may not be a very nice smell, but it had its charms. More than anything, it smelt like home.

You become more and more aware of a pair of eyes on you, pulling your attention away. You bite back a smile as you meet their gaze, “You’re staring?”

“Am I? Hadn’t noticed.” They grin, eyes soft as they lean their face closer to you.

You giggle, smacking their chest as you shake your head. You turn your attention back to the view, trying to ignore their stare. It’s no use, the dopey love-struck stare calling to you.

“Do I have something on my face?” You tease, crossing your arms as you turn your full attention back to them.

“Not at all. I just like looking at it.”

You roll your eyes, leaning forward to kiss them. “You’re such a sap.”

“You bring it out of me.”

“Aw, you’re saying that I’m special?” You tease, face hovering close enough to theirs for your noses to brush.

“Absolutely. Special, beautiful, smart, kind, funny. I could go on and on, if you’d like.”

You giggle again, shaking your head as your cheeks turn pink. “No need. I think I get it. You’re special too, you know.”

They smile, bumping their hip into yours playfully, “Thank you, baby.”

a/n: wrote this at 3 am with zero proofreading and it's also my first time writing threesome so i'm really sorry if anything feels a little messy or off ><

It started after a long night.

The kind that left everyone drunk on food, drink, and laughter. The Moby Dick had been rowdy after the latest victory — drinks spilled, arms slung around shoulders, and Ace glued to your side like always. He was warm, hand on your thigh under the table, fingers drawing lazy circles while he laughed at something Thatch said. Sabo had joined late, after returning from a mission with the Revolutionaries. You hadn't seen him in months.

But the second he walked into the room, everything shifted.

Ace noticed first.

You caught the glance he gave Sabo — something unreadable, something like approval — then he leaned in and murmured into your ear, voice low and casual.

“You’re starin’.”

Your cheeks burned. “Was not.”

“You were.” He smirked. “He’s hot. I get it.”

You glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “You jealous?”

“Nah,” he said, eyes still on Sabo. “If it were anyone else, maybe. But him? I’d let him fuck you.”

You stared at him. “You’re joking.”

Ace looked back at you, and this time his smile was slower, more honest.

“No, I’m not.”

Your heart skipped.

The idea sounded insane. But the heat in your gut said otherwise.

He tilted his head, reading your silence. “C’mon. I know how you get when you’re all worked up. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, gaze dropping to your drink.

Ace’s fingers slid a little higher on your thigh.

“Baby, I’d love to watch. Hell, I’d help him wreck you.”

You blinked at him. “Why?”

“Because he’s my brother. I trust him. And…” He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “I wanna see how loud I can make you scream when you’re takin’ both of us.”

You choked on a breath, legs pressing together instinctively.

Before you could answer, Sabo wandered over to your side of the table, drink in hand, smiling casually.

“You two look like you’re up to something.”

Ace leaned back with a grin. “Might be.”

You tried to play it cool. “We’re just talkin’.”

Sabo gave you a look. “Uh huh.”

Ace tapped his fingers on the table. “Hey, Sab. Ever thought about fuckin’ them?”

You damn near dropped your drink.

Sabo blinked, eyebrows raised, then looked between the two of you.

Then he smiled — slow, sharp, and dangerous.

“I have,” he said, voice even. “But I didn’t think you’d ever offer.”

Ace just shrugged. “Tonight’s feelin’ generous.”

You sat frozen, heat pooling low in your belly, heart pounding in your chest.

And Sabo?

He looked at you again. Really looked. Then he leaned down, mouth close to your ear.

“Only if you want it.”

Your lips parted.

You didn’t even remember who opened the door.

It slammed shut behind you in a blur of mouths and hands and heat, and you were shoved up against it a second later, Sabo’s lips crushing into yours while Ace tugged your clothes up from behind, already impatient.

“Fucking finally,” Ace growled, pressing against your back, hand slipping down the front of your pants. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Sabo broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck. “Bet they’ve been thinking about it longer than both of us combined.”

Your breath hitched as Ace’s fingers found you wet and ready, two sliding between your folds without hesitation.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, voice rough against your ear. “Soaked. You’ve been wantin’ us all night, haven’t you?”

“Y-yeah—fuck—”

Sabo’s hands pushed up your shirt, kissing across your stomach, slow and teasing. “I wanna taste ‘em first.”

Ace snorted. “Like hell you are.”

He pulled his hand away and spun you around to face him, already working at his belt.

“You’re takin’ me first. You always wanted my cock, baby, admit it.”

You stared down as he shoved his pants low, and there it was — long, thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. It curved just slightly upward, and your pussy clenched just looking at it.

Sabo whistled low from behind you. “Still can’t believe you walk around with that thing.”

Ace smirked. “Jealous?”

Sabo just chuckled and stepped forward, finally undoing his own belt. “Not when I’ve got this.”

Your head snapped back as he dropped his pants, and it made your mouth go dry.

Sabo was thicker. Ace's is longer, but Sabo's is thicker and with a little more vein to it. Where Ace’s looked like it’d reach deep and ruin you from the inside out. Sabo’s cock looked like it’d split you open.

Your thighs rubbed together instinctively.

Ace caught it. “You like seein’ both cocks lined up for you like that?”

You nodded quickly.

“Which one do you wanna suck first?” Sabo asked, hand sliding down your back, teasing the cleft of your ass.

“Let ‘em do both,” Ace said, fisting himself. “You got a mouth. Use it.”

They pulled you to the bed, stripped you quick between sloppy kisses and low groans.

Ace sat down first, legs wide, stroking his cock lazily while watching you kneel between them.

Sabo sat beside him, slower, calm — but the hunger in his eyes was obvious. His fingers traced your jaw.

“Don’t keep us waitin’, sweetheart.”

You leaned in, lips wrapping around the head of Sabo’s cock first, and his breath hitched right away.

“Shit,” he muttered, hips twitching forward.

Ace growled, fisting your hair. “Now mine. Let me feel that tongue.”

You switched, letting Ace slide past your lips, thick and hot, your jaw stretched wide to take him. He groaned deep, one hand in your hair, the other stroking your back.

“Fuck, that mouth— I could cum just like this.”

Sabo’s hand stroked your ass, his fingers dipping lower.

“Wanna see ‘em fall apart between us,” he said to Ace, voice low and filthy. “One cock down their throat, one in their pussy—”

You whimpered around Ace’s cock.

“Yeah, you want that?” Ace panted. “Want us both inside you, stretchin’ you open like you’re ours?”

You nodded, throat full.

Sabo leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Then we’ll take our time, baby. You’re not gonna forget tonight.”

You barely had time to breathe before Ace leaned back, grinning, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, hand still tangled in your hair. “You really tryna make me lose it this fast?”

Sabo’s hand slid down your back, his fingers firm and slow, stroking over your ass and down between your thighs. His voice dropped low by your ear.

“They’re so worked up already,” he murmured. “Shaking for it. Think we’ve teased enough?”

Ace licked his lips, eyes fixed on the way your legs were pressed tight together.

“I think they need someone between those legs,” he said. “Now.”

Sabo chuckled, breath warm on your neck. “Then get on the bed. Let’s give ‘em a little attention.”

They helped you up—Ace guiding you by the waist, Sabo lifting your leg up as you settled onto the mattress. Every inch of your skin burned under their hands.

Ace’s mouth found your thigh first, slow, deliberate kisses inching higher while Sabo knelt beside you, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself as he watched.

“You hear how wet they are already?” Ace said, voice almost impressed. “You really got them riled up.”

Sabo leaned in close, gripping your jaw to tilt your head toward him.

“Feels good?” he murmured, his cock heavy and hard near your cheek.

You could only nod, breath ragged.

“Then open up, baby,” he said, brushing himself against your lips. “Wanna feel that mouth while your boyfriend's makin’ you fall apart.”

You parted your lips, and he pushed inside, groaning as your mouth closed around him.

“Fuck—just like that,” Sabo breathed. “So goddamn perfect.”

Ace didn’t let up. “Get on the bed. Face up,” he muttered. “Wanna see your face when we ruin you.”

Your legs wobbled, but you obeyed, and in seconds you were stretched across the sheets, flushed and panting, the mattress dipping with their weight.

Ace moved between your legs first — and his fingers returned just as fast.

You gasped as the heat hit you again, his fingertips blazing hot, spreading you open.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he said, voice tight with restraint. “So ready for it. All that moanin’ with Sabo’s cock down your throat got you this needy?”

Sabo sat up beside you, calmer, but the glint in his eyes gave away how wrecked he was already. His fingers slid into your hair as he leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“You took me so well,” he murmured. “Wanna see how you take Ace’s fingers. All warmed up like that…”

You whimpered, arching into Ace’s hand as he pushed deeper, curling his fingers just right — the heat of his touch making your nerves light up.

“Shit,” you breathed, grabbing at the sheets.

Ace chuckled darkly. “Can’t get enough, huh?”

Sabo moved closer, lips brushing your cheek. “Think they’re ready to be filled,” he said. “But not before we make ‘em lose their mind a little more.”

Ace leaned down, breath hot on your inner thigh.

“I’ll make ‘em beg,” he said. “You keep talkin’ to ‘em like that.”

And then his mouth replaced his fingers — the heat of it nearly unbearable in the best way, tongue working you over with a slow, consuming hunger.

Your whole body jerked.

“Fuck—Ace—” you gasped, nails digging into the sheets.

They fed off each other — Ace praising how sweet you tasted, Sabo cursing how good your mouth felt. Their voices blurred together in your ears, low and filthy and full of want.

Sabo groaned louder, hips twitching forward.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum—look at you—stuffed full and still greedy.”

You couldn’t answer. You were too far gone.

Ace pulled back just enough to speak, breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t cum yet,” he warned. “We’re not even close to done with you.”

You barely had time to recover before Ace pulled back, eyes gleaming with mischief — and heat. He shifted down between your legs again, licking his lips as he traced his fingers over your slick folds, still pulsing from the last orgasm.

“Wanna see you fall apart all over again,” he murmured, and when he dipped his head to lick you, you felt it — heat. Real heat, his Mera Mera no Mi awakening in the way his tongue felt like flame, burning hot but never painful.

Your whole body jerked at the sensation. It was overwhelming, different — like he was devouring you with fire.

“Ah—Ace—!”

He smirked into you, the tip of his tongue trailing fire-light kisses up your inner thigh before diving back in, lapping at your clit with slow, searing strokes. The heat rolled through your core, spreading up your spine, setting your nerves on fire.

“Still sensitive?” he teased, his voice a low purr against your skin.

“Feels different when I use a little flame, doesn’t it?”

You could barely nod. “I—it’s so—hot—fuck—”

Sabo’s chuckle vibrated against your side. “Don’t burn them out too fast.”

Ace didn’t look up. “They can take it. Can’t you, baby?”

You were already trembling again, thighs trying to close around his head — but his hands gripped your hips and held you open like you were his, heat blooming wherever he touched.

“Let me make ‘em melt,” he said, eyes flicking up to Sabo. “Then you show ‘em what that pretty Haki of yours can do.”

Sabo’s smile turned sharp.

He slid back between your legs as Ace pulled away, face flushed and glistening with you. Sabo’s fingers trailed down your chest, feather-light, and then—they hardened.

You gasped.

His fingers turned sleek, black, coated in Armament Haki as he teased one over your nipple — the contrast of warm skin and hardened Haki making you cry out.

“Fuck—Sabo—!”

“Feels different, huh?” he said, almost curious as he twisted just right. “Harder. Heavier. Stronger.”

He slid one arm under your thigh, lifting your leg with ease, and brought his cock to your entrance, the tip gleaming, still hot from your mouth.

“But not too much,” he whispered, coating himself in Haki too — his whole length darkening, glossy and firm. “Just enough to fill you perfectly.”

He pushed in slowly, and you felt it — the weight, the pressure, the intense stretch of him, enhanced by the hard, dense coating. You were left gasping, twitching under him.

“God—Sabo—it’s so—thick—”

He groaned, sinking in inch by inch. “You’re taking it so well. Don’t worry—I’ll soften up once I’m buried.”

You could feel it, the way the Haki eased little by little inside you, like he knew how to wreck you just right.

Then behind him, Ace returned — and he wasn’t done.

“Gonna play a little more,” Ace muttered, climbing up behind you. “Wanna see how you moan when I fuck you with flame.”

You didn’t get a second to ask what he meant.

His fingers traced down your side again — and when they slid between your legs, back to your clit, the heat returned. Not scorching, but a gentle blaze, pulsing in time with his strokes. It didn’t hurt — it stimulated. Like warmth crawling straight through your veins, curling your toes, dragging you closer to another peak.

Sabo’s thrusts started up slow — long, deep strokes, his Haki still half-activated, making every movement feel like you were being split and molded around him.

Ace kissed your throat, breath hot.

“You like this, baby? Sabo stretchin’ you open while I play with fire down here?”

You moaned, nearly delirious, hips rolling up toward Sabo’s thrusts, down into Ace’s heat.

“You’re so greedy,” Sabo muttered, picking up pace. “Your hole’s clenching like it loves the weight of my cock.”

Ace’s palm flattened over your stomach, and you felt it again — the gentle, smoldering pulse of his power — like a heating stone pressed to your core from inside.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he whispered. “Gonna make you burn for us.”

And you did.

The orgasm slammed into you hard — more intense than the first — and you sobbed out loud, back arching, body convulsing under them.

“Shit, look at that,” Sabo growled, his hips stuttering. “Still tight—fuck—can feel them gripping me—!”

Ace’s mouth was by your ear, still stroking your clit with his flaming fingers.

“You wanna cum with us?” he whispered. “Want me to fill your mouth with heat while Sabo fills your cunt?”

You nodded desperately, tears in your lashes.

Sabo didn’t hold back — his thrusts grew faster, sloppier, Haki flaring again briefly with each snap of his hips. His cock pulsed deep inside, and then—

He came with a broken groan, hips buried, spilling into you hot and hard.

Ace leaned forward at the same time, pulling your head toward his cock — now blazing faintly with controlled heat, just enough to feel dangerous without harm.

“Open up,” he growled.

You did.

And the second your lips wrapped around him, he groaned and came hard, his cock twitching, cum thick and hot in your throat, like swallowing sunlight.

When it was over, all three of you collapsed into a pile, breathless and burning with leftover pleasure.

Your body buzzed from every inch of stimulation — skin still hot from Ace’s fire, walls still fluttering from Sabo’s heavy, Haki-thick cock.

Ace flopped beside you with a grin.

“Fire play,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Should’ve tried that sooner.”

Sabo just chuckled, trailing his fingers — still faintly blackened with Haki — down your side.

“They’re gonna feel that tomorrow.”

You laughed weakly. “I can’t feel anything now.”

They both smirked — and Ace leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Then let’s give you a minute.”

Sabo added, quieter, thumb brushing your cheek.

"Can I help keep you company tonight, darling? I'm sure a man like you would enjoy having a woman like me to warm his bed..."

"Oh, thank you so much for saving us! You know, if you ever need anything, and I mean ANYTHING? then i'm your girl... Well, hopefully I can be."

"Why hello there, handsome. Can I buy you a drink?"

Comments like that were often heard by you, directed towards your lover, to be exact. You knew they couldn't help it, any confident woman would be trying her luck with Red-Haired Shanks, and it wasn't just because he was a powerful man, but because he was a sexy man. But, he was yours, and he certainly wasn't going to leave you in the dust for a cheap broad, that was for sure...

But, when they shot glares your way when he wrapped his singular arm around you, or when you fed him a piece of food off of your plate, or maybe even when you brought his drink to his lips for him if he was too busy holding you, it slowly eroded the sense of temporary confidence Shanks allowed you to experience. Their glares weren't there because they were just jealous that you were with Shanks, the ladies glared and scowled at you because you weren't attractive, or so you told yourself.

When a lady or two would hit on Shanks, you shrunk into yourself, you wanted to shut them up, and maybe make yourself feel a little more secure, but when you glanced down at your own body, and back to theirs, you saw the difference between you two, clear as day, and you really, really wished that maybe you could change yourself overnight, get rid of your stretch marks, the fat on your thighs, your stomach fat, anything that Shanks might see as undesirable.

You laid in bed next to Shanks, staring at his sleeping face, before you closed your eyes, replaying tonight's events in your head, although Shanks had comforted you before bed, holding you and kissing your lips so gently, you knew it wasn't enough to get rid of what had to have been years of insecurity about your body and appearance. As per usual, Shanks was being crowded by a group of women, their adoring smiles and flirty gestures didn't go unnoticed by you, but you stayed quiet. Shanks grinned at the attention and praise from them, though he attempted to remain humble, he didn't wanna give them too much attention, because he had something much better he was wanting to do. After a while longer, most of the women dispersed, much to your relief, but one lady remained.

"Would you mind if I... Personally, thank you?" A particularly beautiful woman spoke softly, her hand ghosting over her breast in a suggestive movement.

Beckman and Yasopp glared daggers into the back of her head, they were probably you and Shanks' biggest supporters when it came to your relationship, and they were happy to pull off an especially stubborn woman from Shanks if you couldn't find a chance to help him slip away yourself She didn't seem to be doing much harm as of now, so they just watched her closely.

“Ah, well, I already have a pretty lady that'll be warming my bed, and my heart for the foreseeable future, so, not a chance.” Shanks huffed out a laugh, but the woman seemed a little agitated, not embarrassed in the slightest , just… Angry. She glanced around for a woman nearby, eyes passing over you, and you felt extremely embarrassed in the moment, especially when she looked at you with a bewildered expression, before barking out a cold laugh, scoffing at Shanks. “Is that what you're into? Yeah, no.” She flicked her hair, walking off, the look she gave you, paired with the words she spoke about you, ended up crushing your very soul, and Shanks ran to your side.

Fortunately none of the other crew paid enough attention to hear her words, and Beckman and Yasopp immediately stopped watching the lady like hawks when Shanks blew her off.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Shanks smiled softly, caressing your cheek as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He opened them again when you stayed silent, offering you a private smile, before speaking softly into your ear, his arm wrapping around your waist, his hand resting on your lower hip. “You know, I don't tell you you're beautiful everyday for no reason, honey. You're the prettiest woman in the world.”

You wanted to cry, because his words were just so sweet, and you felt undeserving of his constant reassurance more than ever now, and also because you were so embarrassed that your lover fell in love with somebody so unsightly. You knew pushing him away when all he wanted to do was help you would do no good for either of you, so you let him hold you, because you knew it wasn't right to reject his love when he just wanted to make sure you were okay, you let his soft words reach you.

“I love you, Shanks. I really do. I’m sorry.” You shakily exhaled, apologizing for your insecurities being so obvious. Shanks frowned at you, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, his stubble lightly tickling your lips. “I love you too, but don't apologize. What are you even apologizing for, Silly?” He quipped, pinching your hip playfully, making you exhale a laugh as you lightly jumped from the sudden action, sniffling and blinking away the barely formed tears in your eyes as he smiled at you again, moving to stand by your side, hand dropping down to hold your hand.

“I’ll be with you again right after we set sail, M’kay?” He whispered in your ear, pulling away, then giggling to himself before he leaned down to kiss your lips, walking over to the crew to bark orders at them.

Your eyes opened, sleep unsuccessful in welcoming you, your bottom lip quivering as you huffed hot air out of your mouth, the memories of today’s previous events not serving to comfort you, despite the many kisses Shanks had given you when you two crawled into bed. You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut, then opening them again, blinking away tears as they slid down your cheeks.

You ended up looking at Shanks, who had his mouth wide open, snoring softly as a bit of drool dribbled down his cheek, his hair messy and disorderly, making you giggle softly despite your sadness. Your giggles slowly turned into soft sobs, your hands gently reaching under your clothes, tracing along the stretch marks scattered on your flesh. Your fingertips traced the marks on your hips, stomach, lower back, your biceps, inner thighs, and when you stopped at the stretch marks on your breasts, you couldn't help but feel bad for Shanks. You felt bad that, instead of smooth scar-free flesh, instead of a small stomach, smaller thighs, instead of a beautiful and fit woman, Shanks had you.

Your skin was littered in stretch marks, and although you weren't weak nor unhealthy, you remained chubby, and you couldn't get rid of your stretch marks in an instant, so Shanks just… Had to deal with your body, the body you felt ashamed of showing off.

You sniffled, tears still streaming down your face as you looked at your sleeping boyfriend. You felt guilty for looking at his face and crying, and maybe even a little embarrassed, even though he was fast asleep, so you turned around and cried facing the wall.

Your soft sobs slowly woke Shanks, his breath caught in his throat when he wasn't met with the sight of your face immediately, and instead, the back of your head, along with the unmistakable sound of you crying. “Hey, hey…” He cooed, sitting up in bed as he blinked away the sleep caught in his eyes immediately, all for you. He wasn't angry in the slightest, but when his beautiful girlfriend was upset, he wasn't gonna just go back to sleep and hope you fixed it yourself, no, of course not! He wasn't that kind of man, he loved you, and when you love somebody, you're supposed to love each and every part of them, physical or not, right?

You jolted slightly when his deep voice echoed throughout the room, and as his hand found its usual place on your hip, guilt crept in.

“It's okay, baby, it's okay. I’m awake… Why are you crying?” He pressed his chest against your back, kissing your ear softly as his whispers soothed your cries into soft whimpers. You couldn't run from it now.

“My body. My body is—” You shook as you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you turned around to look Shanks in the eye while you had this conversation. Your eyes opened as you came face to face with Shanks again, a small frown etched onto his face, his brows furrowed. “Your body? What's wrong with it?” His soft breath fanned over your cheek.

“You know, my… My stretch marks and, I'm chubby and… And… You know that I’m not really… Conventionally attractive. What about me do you find beautiful?” You shook, small sobs escaping between your words as you tried to piece together the words you wanted him to hear without wailing like a baby. “Y/N, maybe right now you can't see yourself the way I see you. I tell you how beautiful you are everyday because it's a fact. It's not me spitballing for no goddamn reason—” He let out a breathy laugh, pausing to kiss your tear-stained cheek.

“It's because you are beautiful, honey. I know me explaining why I love you won't work like the magic I want it to be that just makes all your insecurities disappear, but really, you're beautiful. And, your stretch marks- Why would they matter to me?” He paused, any lingering sleep completely out of his system. He expressed his love and devotion to you so, so clearly, and it was utterly romantic.

“You don't think I’m ugly because of the scar over my eye, or my missing arm, right? Why should I care about them? Your stretch marks are beautiful, and they make you so, so unique. I don't even know how to put it into words, but they make you seem so divine.” He breathed out, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth. He was reassuring you because you were sad, but all this talk about your body made a few other things flash in his mind.

Your tears were gone now, but there were still small slivers of doubt stuck in your brain. “I’m afraid that you hate looking at my body. Maybe you could love me as a person, but sometimes it feels like you loving my body is just… Out of the question.” You smiled awkwardly, an uncomfortable warmth spreading throughout your body at the mention of your body.

“No- Oh, god, no. Am I so bad in bed that you think I don't like your body?” He joked, chuckling at himself as he tried to lighten the mood, making you giggle at the way he poked fun at himself, the weight on your chest seemingly lifted. “Your body is so, so fucking sexy, and you're so beautiful already that sometimes I feel a little nervous. I love your lips, your hips, your stretch marks, your thighs, your legs, and…” He grinned, and you, sensing the incoming dirty joke, pinched his cheek, laughing at him when he yelped lightly, overdramatic per usual.

“Owie! My girlfriend's so mean to me! Here I was, ready to show her a night so good the whole crew would know… Ah…” Shanks sighed, pouting as he began to sit up, his messy red hair illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table, he looked messier than usual, but it was… Really hot. You chuckled, sitting up and scooting closer to him so you could rest your head on his shoulder. “You better not, Shanks.” You warned, a playful poke to his rib.

“What, not in the mood?” He chuckled, hand reaching up to play with your hair, bouncing it in his hand. “It's not that I’m not in the mood, I just—” Shanks made you cut yourself off, swiftly moving to shove you down onto the bed again, burying his face into your chest, making you laugh loudly at him, any tiny remnants of lingering sadness immediately dispersing. “What are you doing?” You questioned Shanks with a flick to the back of his head, his stubble poking your clothes.

Shanks mumbled something indiscernible, the vibrations shooting through your body and making your soft nipples slowly begin to harden under your blouse, the small warmth from his mouth seeping into your clothes, reaching your skin. You shuddered, placing a hand at the back of his head, lightly tugging on a few strands of his hair.

“What do you want now?” You playfully quipped, breathing through your growing arousal. Shanks’ hand reached up, rubbing your hip, then dipping down to caress your thigh in a sensual way, not helping your case in the slightest. Shanks chuckled dryly, huffing in your scent, before lifting his head up, smiling at you, and you could definitely see that glimmer in his eyes.

“I want to eat your pussy right now.” He spoke as serious as ever, before giggling at you, not alluding to whether or not he was serious, though, you would think after knowing and dating him for such a long time, you could tell. He scooted upwards a bit, his thumb dipping to rub your inner thigh, and he began to kiss you by pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then trailing down to your jaw, your throat, back up to your jaw, and ending with your lips. He wanted to taste your other lips, too, but the ones on your face would do for now until you were ready enough.

You smiled into the kiss, before breathlessly pulling away.

“Really?” You questioned, whimpering softly as his warm lips encased part of your neck, ready for him to just swallow you whole. You shuddered, your legs spreading a little, feet rubbing against the soft sheets as Shanks spread your legs a little more, slotting himself deeper between them, though both of your clothes remained on your bodies. You felt the outline of his dick under those pesky pants he wore, he was merely semi-hard, but a few more seconds between your warm thighs and he’d be hard as rock.

“Of course. I’m already loving the way your thighs feel. I always tell you they feel better squishing my face.” His hand traced over your stretch marks, momentary embarrassment taking you over, but he quelled it with one more kiss to your throat.

“I’ll take my pants off.” You nodded in agreement to your own statement, whining at the affection you were receiving, even when you were feeling insecure, Shanks always had a talent for making sure even if you were angry, upset, tired, or just lazy, you had a good time during sex. Shanks moved back a little after removing his hand from your thigh, sitting up on his knees as you slid your pants down to your thighs, lifting your hips up so you could throw the fabric off with ease, sighing in relief as cool air hit your bare legs, your underwear still covering your pussy.

“Spread your legs for me, honey.” He smiled, positioning himself between your legs once more, resting his chin atop your thigh. You complied, spreading your legs just far enough for your thighs to lazily drape over his shoulders. “Good. I’m gonna try to pull your underwear off with my teeth.” You were incredibly aroused right now, and you were sure Shanks could see the faint wet spot on your panties, but despite your arousal, you snickered at him when his teeth tugged at the elastic part of your underwear.

He gently pulled your panties down, they glided over your thighs in a few sloppy movements, making Shanks laugh at just how bad he was at removing your panties with his teeth. “You are so bad at this.” You playfully giggled, hand resting atop his head as he pouted. “I wish I had both of my arms. I’ll get you back for that.” Shanks was clearly joking, but you had no time to linger on that statement, because your panties were tugged down to your ankles the next second.

.........

“Aha! I’m not that bad at it.” He grinned triumphantly, using his hand to slip them off completely, tossing them onto the lampshade, making you laugh again. Shanks leaned back a little to kiss your ankles, trailing his lips down to your knees, then your thighs, stopping to kiss at your wet pussy lips, covered in slick. “Good job.” You hummed in a teasing tone, sucking in air through your teeth when his lips met your pussy for a mere moment, exhaling a moment later.

You stared at his head down between your thighs, your stretch marks slightly illuminated by the light in the room, but with Shanks between your legs, it felt hard to get sad about your body again. He gently licked the smeared arousal off of your cunt, eyes squeezed shut as he just savored your taste. You whimpered when his tongue, warm and wet, gently dipped between your lips, licking and kissing your pussy, breathing onto your clit.

And then, his eyes opened. He had a look others would register as scary, you think anybody would be horrified if “Red-Haired” looked at them with these eyes, but right now, he wasn't “Red-Haired”, he was just Shanks. That, and he was eating the life out of your pussy right now, his stubble sometimes got annoying, but it was worth it every. damn. time. Moaning softly, your hands made a move so they could begin grabbing at his hair, your head tipping back to land atop your pillow, spreading your legs a bit more for Shanks to get a better taste. The heels of your feet rested on top of his back, and you let yourself relax, Shanks would ensure you would relax either way, but he preferred if you were cozy right off the bat.

“Your pussy’s so pretty.” His words muffled by his face buried so deep between your legs, still managed to reach your ears, making you blush, thighs instinctively trying to clamp together, but instead ended up squishing Shanks’s face together. Still, he kept eating you, not stopping a second other than to murmur soft praises, slowly building your orgasm with deep flicks of his tongue and gentle rubs of his thumb against your clit, and it made your hips buck when he kept sucking on your clit.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum, Shanks. Oh god, I love you, I love you so much. Fuck, you're the best thing thats ever happened to me, I’m- Oh, I’m cumming!” You keened, trying to close your plump thighs together while Shanks continued to tongue-fuck your pussy, alternating between rubbing your clit with his thumb, flicking it with his tongue, or just stopping to suck on it like a lollipop.

With a sharp cry once more , your pussy clenched around nothing, hips softly bucking against your lover's face as his movements slowed, a warm cream dripping from your vagina, making Shanks dip back inwards towards your pussy, softly lapping up your cum as you gasped from the overstimulation. Shanks pressed one last peck to your clit, before sitting back up, smiling at you. “I love you too. You feel better now, sweetheart?” He giggled, laying ontop of you, his painfully obvious erection pressing against your thigh.

“I feel… A lot better. I feel amazing.” You murmured, pausing between words to pant softly, but the ache between your legs started again, and it was slightly embarrassing. All of his praise and reassurance got you a little wetter tonight, and even after you got eaten out by the man in question, you still wanted him, and this time it was an even deeper want, maybe it was carnal. Shanks leaned up to capture your lips in a kiss, pressing his chest to yours as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, both of your eyes closed shut.

Your hands, however, had other ideas. One of your hands stayed on your lover’s cheek, while the other reached down to tug at the waistband of his pants, pulling it down just enough for you to feel his cock spring out. Shanks smiled into the kiss, before pulling away. “Want me that bad? Just ask.” His brows wiggled, and you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“I never need to ask. The answer is always yes, Shanks.” Giggling, you reached your hand downwards, gently grasping his shaft, making Shanks groan softly, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to catch his breath. “Okay, yeah, the answer is always yes. You know me too well, Y/N. Touché.” He clicked his tongue, watching your face as you began to slowly stroke his length, his eyelids felt heavier, and Shanks closed his eyes to savor the feeling.

“We fuck like rabbits when we get the chance, of course you know me. Shit, fuck-” Shanks groaned, moving up a bit more to rest his head on your shoulder, laying on his side. His hand went to your chest, tugging up the blouse you wore to bed gently, making a gasp escape your lips as the cool air quickly hardened your nipples. “There they are...” Within seconds, Shanks began to litter your breasts in kisses, stopping to gently suck a few hickeys onto your skin, his hand moving to gently tug and rub your nipples.

You kept jerking him off, fingers gliding to the tip of his cock, and you swore you could feel it throbbing, pre-cum smeared over his head. Shanks wrapped his mouth over the entirety of your areola, drooling on your tits as he moved his tongue in slow circles. “Shanks. I want you inside of me.” You moaned, digging the soles of your feet into the sheets, toes curling.

“Okay, yeah. Let me just…” Shanks panted, grabbing your wrist to halt your movements, pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. He groaned, grabbing his shaft to begin rubbing the tip of his dick between your folds, originally planning to get you wet by playing with your pussy, but he seemed to have forgotten just how wet he got you. “Oh, woah. You're still really wet.” Shanks chuckled, halting his movements so his hand could toy with your clit, making you huff out a desperate moan.

Slowly, Shanks gently massaged his middle finger into your entrance, marveling at how you eagerly sucked in his singular finger, hungry for more the next second. “Just put it in already. God, I can't wait any longer.” A groan of frustration left your lips, immediately silenced by soft whimpers as a second finger had unknowingly entered you, as Shanks began to massage your cunt, your legs spread wider, and you could feel the heat slowly building in your stomach, the nape of your neck feeling sweaty as you tried to relax and be patient, eyes shutting.

“Can I make you cum on my fingers? Or do you wanna cum on my cock?” You licked your dry lips, a tingly sensation shooting through your thighs and trailing up towards your starving pussy, sucking Shanks’s fingers deeper, although he was already knuckle deep into your pussy. “Please, fuck me already. I wanna cum on your cock.” All shame disappeared when you were both alone in the bedroom, embarrassment flying out the window because you knew for a fact beating around the bush would do no good.

With that, you watched as Shanks nudged the tip of his cock against your hole, pushing himself halfway inside you, before stopping to rub your clit, spitting on his fingers so he wouldn't chafe it. After a while, you shakily exhaled, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer in, though your greedy pussy sucked him in closer than you did with just your legs. “Greedy tonight, huh? I’ll take good care of you, baby.” A smile finding its way onto his lips, Shanks leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, nudging his dick against your walls as he adjusted himself so he could place his hand beside your head.

“I’m gonna move now, hold on.” And so you did, wrapping your arms and legs around Shanks as he began to thrust into you, not impatiently, not lazily, but as slow as he could be, reaching deep inside of you, staring lovingly into your eyes as his lips parted, a soft moan erupting from his mouth and slipping into yours. “You feel so good.” You shuddered, kissing his lips as you moaned into his mouth. Shanks grunted, catching your lips with expertise, fucking into you a little faster, a lewd slapping noise sounding out through the room when your hips connected, spurring Shanks further on. He pushed your hips further into the mattress, bed frame squeaking from the repeated motions while he kept fucking you.

Each time he fully sheathed himself inside of you, you moaned desperately into his mouth, as did he when he felt you clench him, breathy groaning muffled into your mouth as he pounded his hips into yours, your thighs jiggling as he sped up, you dipped into the mattress only to gently spring back up, your pussy clenching him so tightly it felt like it was swallowing Shanks’ cock whole. With one more thrust, you felt the rope in your stomach begin to fray, a girly moan slipping past your lips, eyes rolling back into your head while Shanks kept his rhythm, pulling away from your kiss to admire your face, eyes trailing down to your body, your stomach, hips, thighs, god, he loved your thighs.

Lips darting to his, you crashed your lips back onto Shanks’ own, your orgasm building further, the last time he actually had time to fuck you must have been three weeks ago, and you had almost forgotten how heavenly he was in bed.

“Gonna cum… Ah…” You moaned into Shanks’ lips, grabbing his red-hair, bucking your hips up into his, doing just about everything to chase that high that you needed so bad, you wanted to show him just how much you loved him in this very moment, and what better way to do that than to cum on his dick? More moans poured past your lips, until everything boiled over, your legs locked Shanks in place, cunt spasming over his cock so intensely it felt agonizing, but the sensation was merely pure pleasure, and everything exploded at just the right time, making you moan so loud you were sure the whole crew would wake.

You whined, feeling Shanks still for a moment, his cock twitching ever so slightly inside of your gooey walls, a ring of cream forming around the base while your pussy couldn't decide whether to suck Shanks deeper in, or to push him out. “Where do you want me to cum, baby? Your thighs?” You had almost forgotten that Shanks didn't have a condom on, not a very smart move, but it wasn't like you could reverse time. “Thighs.” You managed to breathe out, yelping when Shanks began to thrust inside of you again, fast and sloppier this time, before he grunted loudly, moaning as he pulled out, jerking himself off a few times before shooting his load onto your thighs, a bit splattering onto the sheets. He sighed, wiping his hand off on his pants, pulling them up, and laying ontop of you.

“I love you so much. You're so, so, so beautiful. Who cares about your stretch marks, anyways? I say you're sexier with ‘em.” He giggled, wiggling his brows.

“I’m not ever gonna find anybody better than you, because nobodys better than you. You're the only woman I have eyes for.” You were about to talk to him a little more, but he was already fast asleep, snoring loudly.