#tw hitting

This was Taski's doing. This string of inconveniences. When you loved someone, you knew all their calling cards, and this has her weird fingerprints all over it. When you wake up, your sheets are tied off in a way meticulously designed to snare your foot and make you faceplant when you try to get out of bed. The day was starting with the Taski curse already. When you try to get some cereal, the bag is some kind of indestructible plastic. You figure that she must have manually poured the cereal into a bag she knows is unopenable and then put the box back in place. After trying to slice it open with a razor like you're using a sword to cut epic swathes into an indestructible tank, you realize that it all worked out because you wouldn't have eaten dry cereal anyway and your fridge was superglued shut. It all worked out. It all worked out...

You're obligated to take note when you see the forcefully warped wood at the bottom of your front door. What the hell? Did she seriously somehow squeeze herself under the door? And with this much force? How was that even possible? Whatever witchcraft she did to it, she broke the damn thing; it won't even open anymore. You march past the kitchen and the silverware drawer which has had all its silverware "reversed" and has had a note scratched into the outer wood that says "okey not ma best work". Oh, when you get your hands on her... Well, you don't have to take too long to wonder about how stern her what-fer should be. When you get to the living room, everything is upside down and resting on the ceiling and your TV is tuned exclusively into unnaturally-warping static with eerie, deep voices murmuring out of the background. If it couldn't be any more obvious that this was her doing, a single rug remained on the ground, a conspicuous mass bulging from it making it pretty clear who was under it. Tendrils of red hair snake out in different directions from underneath the rug, subtly waving about like feelers. As you take a few steps forward to properly reprimand her, Taski's hair gently caresses your leg to properly identify you. With the information properly gathered, the form underneath the rug begins to shudder, her hair-thing wrapping around your leg out of sheer... Well, what you hope is fear, but you'd likely be wrong.

Lecture fully loaded into your brain, you grab Taski's other hair tendrils and lift her out from under the rug. She lets out a small yelp before being dangled around helplessly in the air, a dark gray blush blooming on her skin. The imp fixes you with a smile and wide, expectant eyes. "Yuo've been PRANKD, LOSER!1! Whatt a horribel shame that I have ruined your haus FOREVER!11 Aw shuckz I guezz I gotta get whatz coming to me~!" Taski finishes her spiel with a cheery sing-song voice, batting her eyelids at you, waiting. Fine, if it's punishment she wants, it's punishment she'll get. You tell her that she's banned from your house for a month. She rolls her eyes and groans as you set her down so you can loom a little better. "Firzt of 4ll, that obvs won't work on m3. Secondlyyy... Thats a supa lame punishment. Get a lil more cre4tive with it, c'mon." You feel like you're missing something when Taski darkens and begins losing stability. "Yuore REALLYYY mad. Your SO MAD! Mwahaha! C0me on, h1t me!1!" What?! You're not gonna hit her. She causes some trouble for you, but you still love her... "STAWP! Youre gonna m@ke me mushy and thats n0t the agenderrr. H1t me, I can take it!1 I make u so much troubie. Dont wimp out on me." You refuse. You have no idea why she's even suggesting this.

Seemingly getting impatient, Taski reverts to her familiar form and gives you a sharp kick to the shin. You yelp and clutch your leg, glaring daggers at her as you hop around in place. What the hell is her problem?! "L00k at you, I didn know I wuz dating a CHIKKEN. Bawk bawk, das you." Roaring with fury, you grab her hair and cartoonishly stretch it out in all directions. You don't know how to channel your frustration and confusion in a better way right now, but the confusion only grows when Taski bites her lip, small tears forming in the corners of her eyes from her involuntary hair-yoga. "Oh, fuggg yea..." You let go of her tendrils like you were holding a copper wire and someone just said that they were turning the power back on. There was no denying what you just heard, and that expression on her face... "W-why'd you stawp?!!1 Dont forgiv3 me yet, we just started!1" That's enough for you. What was this? It felt like she was goading you into doing something... rough, and you aren't sure how you feel about it. You ask her, no, demand that she explain what this is all about. Her blush returns and her outline sharpens in color. The odd legs she wobbles around on cross and shudder as she whines. "Quit itttt! Stawp... ha... stawp being a soggy noodle and put me in my pl4ce already..."

And that's when her three-fingered hand shoots out to pinch a particularly sensitive part of your chest. You yelp in surprise, reflexively backhanding her by accident. As she reels from the hit, her red eye rolling around in surprise, you apologize profusely. You really didn't mean to do that, she just shocked you. You aren't dense, though; that was what she was hoping for. You ask if she's okay, to which she regains her bearings. Her face says it all. Taski's eyes are half-lidded in bliss, her mouth drooling as she massages the sting out of her cheek. The whiskers of her outline bristle with excitement and she woozily slurs her words, still coming down from the rush. "Waitr, waitr, more of th@t pleaz..." You feel odd and tingly as Taski seizes your hand and nuzzles into it, smiling smugly up at you. "I kno youre horrible at doin stuff I ask, but I think I still did a lotta bad stuff, so... Imma need you to choke me a lil too. Thatd be pretty swe3t." Taski pants with slightly unnerving excitement as you comply and push her down onto the ground, hands squeezing around her throat. You want her to feel good, so you're happy to help out, but... You hope that she can just ask for this in the future instead of trashing your house. You should probably keep a crowbar on you for the fridge, just in case.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

It’s cold. 

The cold turned cruel the moment you woke, remembering why there were no warm bodies surrounding you. 

That wasn’t real. Just pretend. 

Back to your boring life.

“Good morning, Miss Sylvad,” an unpleasantly cheerful servant greeted you. They'd barged into your quarters after a single, patronizing knock, proceeding to hang a few dresses on the coat rack, fluffing the skirts before eyeing your hair. “Your uncle has requested your presence at breakfast, so I have prepared–”

“I can dress myself.”

Their eyes widened for just a split second, so very good at their job.

Can't manage rich pieces of shit like me if you remind us that you're a real fucking person. 

“Of course, Miss Sylvad, but if I may–”

“You can report that I refused your assistance. I’m sure you’ll have someone waiting in the hall to show me where to go?”

“Yes, Miss Sylvad,” they nodded, brows creasing just enough for you to know they had a thought, but not enough to know what kind. You stared at the door when they left you alone, and almost screamed for them to return, just to have something else to focus on besides the empty bed. Heat climbed up your throat, but the thought of crying more tears after how many you’d drained last night made you want to stop breathing. 

The thought of Uncle Cedrick seeing you cry was enough to pull you in, emptiness radiating from you like twisted heat. 

That silver chain seemed to pull at your restless fingers, and you couldn’t decide if it made you more or less likely to cry if you carried it with you. 

You carried it with you. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

“The locket,” Crocodile breathed, his soothing hand halting its movement down Buggy’s legs. 

“You can hear her,” Mihawk praised. His voice was unbelieving, almost reverent. 

“Buggy, you’re brilliant,” Shanks laughed, leaning in to kiss his clown.

“SHUT UP!!”

The clown’s three lovers jolted at his yell, watching his face crumple while he curled in on himself. 

“I need to listen,” Buggy muttered as he shoved a finger in his remaining ear. “Gotta make her stop crying. Gotta stop…”

Looks were shared between his old enemies, their gentle hands unable to stop the flow of tears that stained that colorful face. 

~~~

“Buggy, you need to sleep,” Shanks pleaded, pulling him back against his chest. The three men curled around him on that giant bed, yet no word or touch seemed to calm their clown. Shanks held his lover from behind, wishing that he could wrap around him completely, protect him from all this pain.

“Have to listen,” Buggy almost whined, exhaustion dripping from him. 

Mihawk was afraid to reach out, as though his toxic touch could somehow sever that precious connection, somehow tear her from Buggy, yet again. He faced the clown as they laid on that glorious bed, this man that he’d ridiculed, tortured, abused… 

I don’t deserve–

Crocodile disrupted Mihawk’s self pitying thoughts, reaching around his body to touch Buggy’s face, brushing that pretty, blue hair aside. 

“We’re here, Buggy. We’ll help you. We’ll get her back.”

“She needs you to sleep now, baby,” Shanks whispered along Buggy’s ear. 

“Thank you for helping her,” Mihawk choked, that broken sound bringing the clown back to the room for a moment. 

He found golden eyes struggling to meet his gaze, and silver eyes staring as Crocodile hugged the quivering swordsman from behind. 

“I can’t help her. I can’t do anything,” Buggy rasped, his mouth dry as too many hands reached for him again. 

“You’re going to save her, Buggy,” Mihawk vowed, tracing fingers along his face, through tears and faded paint. “We’re going to help you. You have my word.”

Y/N’s sobs had slowed and quieted by now, fitful breathing letting him know that she was moving toward sleep. 

All alone. She’s…

Mihawk’s dangerous fingers trailed over his lips, those deadly eyes wider and softer than he’d thought possible. 

“Thank you, Buggy.”

This wasn’t the sort of kiss Buggy was used to, at least not from anyone besides Shanks and his star. 

It was just a kiss. 

Just a bare touch of lips that asked nothing of him. The swordsman kissed him, then cuddled against his chest, his scent and warmth finally slowing the clown’s breathing. 

Buggy fell asleep to the sound of her beating heart, while laying in this bed that felt empty, even with the four bodies upon it. 

I’m listening, star. I’m listening… 

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~  

Gods, he could listen to himself talk all fucking day.

It seemed that Uncle Cedrick had called you in just to spout nothingness, blabbing about his recent deals, and “charity” ventures that were nothing more than ego boosts and tax write offs. 

Kill me now. 

“What was that, niece?”

An exhausted laugh escaped your lips, and you had to fight yourself not to give in to your useless desires to insult, to scream, to hurt. 

Now that he wasn’t restricted by the Cross Guild’s security regulations, Uncle had his personal guards trailing him everywhere, even on his own ship. 

Pathetic. 

“I do hope that your time as a hostage to pirates wasn’t traumatic enough to make you lose your sense of propriety.”

“Is that the party line, Uncle,” you sniffed, forcing another bite down. You wouldn’t let yourself be any weaker than you were, no matter how ashy the expensive food tasted. “Should I prepare a statement? Practice my crocodile tears?”

“Very funny,” he frowned, setting down his silverware to give you his full, disparaging attention. “Luckily, the people aware of your recent hobbies have a vested interest in keeping that knowledge close to the chest. But yes, if anyone asks, you were kidnapped by the clown, and held for ransom. I, of course, found and rescued you before they could– Well, that leads to our other concern…”

“And what would that be, uncle,” you scowled while you pictured all of the ways your daydreams could have killed him. 

The smile that tugged at his sneering lips almost had you spilling what little breakfast you’d managed to eat.

“You did say you were ready, Y/N,” he gloated, dabbing nothing from his face with his embroidered napkin. “It’s time for you to get married.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~  

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy woke in a panic, already hearing Y/N’s voice. Her annoyance at some stranger wanting to dress her made him want to flay that person alive. The clown ignored everyone, everything in his path, until he tore through the old suite he’d shared with her. 

His star had barely brought a thing with her when she joined him. Lingerie and birth control, some expensive, but mismatched clothes, and of course, her notebooks, pens, and an old calculator. 

Why didn’t I see you were running from something, baby? I’m so– 

“How is–”

“SHUT UP!”

Three, dangerous men hovered by the door like strays begging for scraps. The clown would have laughed at that pathetic picture if it hadn’t shown just how fucking helpless they were to save her right now. 

“She’s talking to Uncle AssHat. Close the fucking door,” he ordered, cracking open one of her empty notebooks to feel like he was doing any fucking thing to help her. Her pretty pen scratched away at the page. Something about party lines, kidnapping, and… 

“It’s time for you to get married.”

The fuck?!

“Don’t worry, niece,” that fucking sleezeball continued, “it’ll still be your choice. Your mother will be thrilled to help you prepare to meet your suitors. It’s been too long since you’ve taken this seriously.”

“No. Nononono, star! This is stupid,” Buggy whispered, dropping her pen as his fingers tapped along his thighs.

“My choice,” she said with a dark laugh, clearing her throat to clear it away. “When does the parade of boredom begin?”

Pride for her attitude was sunk by the realization that she hadn’t argued, hadn’t resisted with anything more than her snark. 

“Come now, Y/N, not everyone can be as interesting as the mass murderers you’ve been bedding down with lately.”

Buggy held his hand over his mouth, the angry beat of her heart sending sick fear straight through him. Sweat poured through the muted paint he hadn’t removed the night before. 

“You have put us in quite the predicament, niece,” Cedrick paused, and Buggy couldn’t hear past that frantic beat to know what else might be happening in the room. “When all you were doing was playing at being poor, I didn’t see the harm in letting you wait. Now that you’ve shown the outlandish, dangerous situations you’ll put yourself in, I can’t risk you destroying the family’s reputation.”

Why aren’t you saying anything, baby? Your heart… 

“We'll have to wait at least a month, I’d say. Can’t allow people to question where any new little heirs might have come from. Although, if anything pops out with a fucking clown nose, we’ll just have to send it–” 

“Fuck you.”

Buggy had stopped breathing, trying to wake himself the fuck up from this piece of shit dream. 

“You can’t expect me to have any sympathy for those freaks. Not when you didn’t even trust them yourself,” Sylvad laughed, smug and shitty. “I watched you lie to them, niece. Don’t pretend they were anything real to you. Just a little adventure for an attention-seeking–”

“Shut up,” Y/N seethed, though it was too quiet. 

Star… 

“You never trusted those criminals, not for a second,” AssHat kept gloating. Buggy was about to explode with the need to stab this man in the fucking throat. “Don’t lie to yourself. You didn’t tell them the truth, because you know exactly what they would do to you if they found out.”

Her heart was too much, it didn’t sound right. 

This couldn’t be right.

“Arbo Sylvad’s little heiress only inherits her daddy’s wealth when she gets married,” Sylvad mocked, each new word like rotten food forced down Buggy’s throat. “And her lucky spouse gets their own hefty chunk of the company as soon as the vows are sealed. Which one of your pirate lovers do you think would have won the fight? I bet the swordsman would have–”

“You won,” his star growled, the sound forced as though her teeth were clenched. “I’m here, so why don’t you shut the fuck up already?”

“Don’t be so tense,” that asshole chuckled, voice a bit louder as though he’d leaned toward her. “You’ll have over a month until the wedding to pick your favorite suitor. You should be grateful, Y/N. It’s a lot more generous than I should be, given the damage you could have caused.”

“Fine.”

Buggy had forgotten that he existed. His head was in his hands, his eyes wide and dry while he gaped at the floor. Pieces of his body were scattered, but he couldn’t fucking feel a thing. 

“I’m certain we’ll find a suitor that you’ll be content with,” her uncle needled, that saccharine voice making the clown gag. “Besides, something good came from this little tantrum of yours. Now that I know my pretty niece prefers men my age, I’ll be setting you up with some friends of mine. They’ve been asking about you for years. I’m sure that at least one of them will let you call them da–”

Her heart.

Her rage.

A crash of noise shook the clown to his core. Y/N’s yells, broken glass, and “soothing” voices, did nothing to drown out that fucker’s smug laughter. 

All Buggy could do was try not to die. 

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

Helpless. 

Sir Crocodile. 

Dracule Mihawk.

Red Haired Shanks.

Each of them was helpless, useless, pathetic.

They couldn’t help Y/N, and now they couldn’t help their clown, the only one of them that had held themselves together for her.

Crocodile huffed a laugh at the thought while he lit a cigar. Breakfast was a discarded concept as these three, powerful pirates moped in the lounge. 

“We have an in,” Shanks soothed the air, since no words could be soothing to the two men on the too empty couch. 

“Yes, astounding work retrieving a business card,” Mihawk snarked, his head leaning back against the couch while he clenched his eyes shut, fighting the urge for violence. “I wasn’t aware that you had such impressive networking skills. I would have—“

“Don’t be a brat,” Crocodile purred, drawing the other men’s eyes to his. “We can let out steam later. Right now—“

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Shanks stared. 

And stared. 

“You alright, Red Hair?”

Crocodile frowned at his enemy, letting it go. Letting it go for the two men he wanted to see happy again. 

Letting it go for the sweet girl that just might need this man’s help.

Well, he tried to let it go…

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Shanks shook himself, absolutely fucking bewildered by everything he’d witnessed since he stepped foot on this island. “Buggy’s right, though. We can’t go until we know she’ll want us to. It’s up to Buggy.”

“Can we at least plan out all the pretty ways we can end that Mr. Sylvad,” Mihawk sighed as he turned, stretching his legs across the couch, and over Crocodile’s lap. 

“I’m partial to gutting,” Crocodile gave the swordsman a tiny smile, laying that large hand onto those leather clad legs. 

Shanks frowned at the green couch, and at the men flirting over the topics of torture and death. 

“I’ve got a headache,” he groaned, covering his eyes.

“There’s more scotch on the bar,” Crocodile jerked his head, ignoring the rest of the trashed room. “I’ll take a glass.”

The red haired pirate laughed, pouring peaty glasses all around. 

“Good morning.”

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Why are you so quiet, star? 

Her heart got slower as that shithead’s laughter faded into the distance. Too many, “right this way, Miss Sylvad’s,” made him feel spun around, until a door shut, and quiet took over. 

“Fucking stupid,” Y/N berated herself, quiet thuds making Buggy cringe, the sound as though she’d hit the meat of her thighs before falling to her knees.

Baby, let me help you…

Sick laughter bubbled up, just enough to freeze the blood in his veins, though she choked it down fast. Near silent whispers left her lips in a panicked slur, and Buggy curled in on himself, too weak for this torture.

“Don’t show it. Don’t let him see. Just daydreams now, just daydreams. Daydreams are good. Just…”

Her body drifted further and further away with each moment on that asshole’s ship, yet Buggy felt like they were inches apart, crumpled on the floor while broken sounds left both of their throats. 

“Why didn’t you trust me, star,” the clown cried, reaching for her, finding nothing. “Why did you leave me?”

“Buggy…”

His eyes flew open, forgetting that she wasn’t here, that she couldn’t hear him when she whispered his name. He listened while his pretty star sobbed, until her breathing stopped being human. 

~~~

Buggy had to be in a fucking nightmare. Nothing made any fucking sense anymore.

He snatched the notebook and pen, racing to the lounge with a finger in his ear to keep track of her soft, wounded noises. He charged into the room, his upper body floating close enough to smell the foul stench of Crocodile’s scotch, like a noxious cloud over the too relaxed men. 

Crocodile gazed at Mihawk, rubbing along his calves and feet where the swordsman had laid them in his lap, his extravagant boots tossed to the side of the couch. 

Shanks was on the floor, leaning against the couch in front of the swordsman, sighing while dangerous fingers played in his hair. 

“Buggy,” Mihawk breathed, looking genuinely pleased to see him.

“What the FUCK are you idiots doing?”

“Waiting for you, little clown,” Crocodile rasped, patting the back of the couch between him and the swordsman. 

“Did you hear something, Buggy,” Shanks breathed, sitting forward to reach his hand out. Soft, brown eyes scanned the clown too deep. 

Buggy’s need to scream at someone fizzled out, the looks on their faces reminding him that he wasn’t the only one that wanted to save her. 

“She’s gonna get married.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“I love you, Y/N,” your first love purred, kissing his way up your neck until he smiled down at you. 

He didn’t wait for you to respond, just tasted your frozen lips, bringing his hands back down your body until you sighed. 

“Don’t tease—“

“I’m not teasing,” he vowed, trapping you in his joyful gaze. “I love you! I’ve loved you for ages, you big nerd!”

“Hey,” you laughed, skin going hot while you tried to cover your face. He wouldn’t let you, lips pressing against every bit of burning skin he could reach while you squirmed. 

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N. Your uncle’s stuffy mansion, your tiny, shitty dorm room, we can even run away and change our names. Just as long as it’s you and me…”

“Really,” you asked, not meaning to sound so lost. 

“Really,” he promised, stealing your heart. “Do you love me too?”

“I do,” you breathed, tearing your chest wide open for him. “I love you.”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

I’m fine.

It was easier to lie to yourself when you remembered your new personal guards outside the door. 

More like prison guards. My other cage was prettier.

Biting down on your fist, you fought to silence anymore laughter that could mark you as wrong. You needed to get your shit together now. You couldn’t fall apart like you had at breakfast. Couldn’t let him push you… 

“I’ll just turn it all off. Shut it all down.”

Sighing at the pathetic words you hadn’t meant to say out loud, you fought to remember how you used to live. 

Breathe, slow and steady. Remember that nothing matters, so it shouldn’t bother you. Just focus on numbers. Counting, multiplying, dividing, making up random problems to solve in your head all day. 

I’ve got this. I’m fine.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~  

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

“What did you say,” Mihawk growled, the rumble of death in his voice.

Buggy’s body pulled together before this ragged group of pirates that had just looked as pathetic as humanly possible for such powerful men. 

Until he’d said those words. 

Now there was a thrum of violence that seemed to steal the oxygen from the air.

Doubt filled the clown, those vicious eyes freezing him, trapping him with decisions that all felt wrong. 

The red haired pirate sat up enough to grab Buggy’s hand, guiding the man to sit on the ground with him, to stare up at those towering villains on the couch. Shanks wanted to move him when he saw the view, but his clown was shaking, so he just held on as much as he would let him. 

“What did you hear,” Crocodile rasped, stretching out his fingers, fighting not to clench them, to tear them through the world to get to her. 

“I’ll kill you,” Buggy threatened, brushing off Shanks’ concerned grip. “If you hurt her, I won’t give a fuck. I’ll blow myself up to take both of you with me.”

Mihawk stared into those crystal eyes, seeing that same look that had been there all this time. He had laughed at it, punished it, until he was finally grateful for it. Buggy’s bravery, and his love for Y/N never wavered, even when they had smeared his blood across the floor. 

“If I ever hurt her again, I will gladly let you kill me.”  

Statues carved to gaze at each other, the swordsman and the clown might have remained there forever, if Crocodile hadn’t leaned close. 

“I don’t care what you heard, Buggy,” he assured, remembering her laughing in his clown's arms. “I’ll never be able to make up for what I did to you both, but I’m gonna start by getting our girl back, safe. No matter what.”

Crocodile offered his hand, meeting Shanks’ gaze over Buggy’s shoulder.

“You were right about me, Red Hair,” he confessed, his shoulders relaxing when Mihawk’s hand joined his. “I’m a monster, and I can’t change what… I’m never gonna hurt Y/N, or Buggy, or Mihawk again. I know it’s not–”

“That’s a lot of words for ‘help me,” Shanks teased lightly, tilting around Buggy so he could join Mihawk in touching the larger man’s hand. He apologized quickly, soothing Crocodile’s weak huff. “Turns out I’m not the best person either, but I’m here. I’ll do anything I can to bring her back.”

“I swear it,” Mihawk breathed, imploring the clown to let them in. “I don’t deserve her, but you do. I’ll–”

“How much fucking scotch did you guys drink,” Buggy scolded, his nervous laughter lightening the mood, but not the tension. Those three hands still waited, three sets of eyes on his skin. 

Three, old enemies that could betray him, could hurt her, could take her. 

Three lovers that had been saying such wonderful things. 

“I will blow us all–”

“I know you will, little clown," Crocodile praised, his face softening even further when that gloved hand finally touched his. 

Don’t turn it all off, baby. We’re gonna get you out of there.

Buggy felt like a fucking idiot, but he couldn’t stop this feeling.

Hope.

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

It was getting a little late, but you weren’t bothered at all. You waited, enjoying your cheap cocktail, and the cheesy grin that you couldn’t keep off of your face.

I love him. He loves me. 

Brand new words. Words that you hadn’t expected to find. At least, you weren’t supposed to, not unless the person who said them was on a certain list.

You didn’t give a fuck about any of that while you swirled your colorful straw, letting yourself feel it all.

“Hello, niece. Aren’t you looking adorable this evening?”

“Why are you here,” you spat while your eyes scanned the restaurant, hoping that your boyfriend would be late enough to miss meeting Uncle Cedrick.

“Are you looking for your date,” he chuckled, picking up your drink just to sniff and scowl at it. “I’m afraid he was in a bit of a hurry, and didn’t find the time to write a goodbye note for you. Something about an internship with Galley-La… I did save his signature though.”

Denial paralyzed you, even as he laid the contract out on the table. Every word on the page was a knife through the heart, but you couldn’t look away until you’d read it all, until you should have been bleeding, dying in the middle of that shitty restaurant.

“You know, it didn’t even take him five minutes before he decided to sign your love away for some pocket change, and a potential job,” Uncle Cedrick gloated, snatching up the contract before your humiliating tears could smudge the ink. “That sort of trash doesn’t belong anywhere near the Sylvad name.”

“I don’t want that fucking name,” you choked out, eyeing the guards he’d brought with him. 

He sat back, his arms spread wide, just like his disgusting smile. So at ease, so fucking pleased. 

“Are you feeling well, niece? Relationship troubles can–”

“I’m fine.”

Uncle Cedrick smirked, leaning over the table to touch your chin. You held your breath to keep from flinching, to keep from smelling that stupid cologne. 

“I knew you’d be fine. You’re such a smart girl,” he praised, and the urge to throw up in his face was getting harder to fight. “It’s been too long. I have some suitors for you to meet, and I can guarantee that none of them would stand you up for such a meager amount of berry.”

“No, you’d cut your friends a much better deal,” you seethed, shaking beneath his gentle touch. 

“You’re not a child anymore, Y/N,” he purred, and you had to close your eyes. Had to remind yourself why biting his fucking fingers off would be a bad idea. “You should know that people like us don’t get to marry for love, and I will do anything to protect this family. Even from my brother’s irritating obsession with his favorite daughter.”

He radiated satisfaction, and you knew exactly what smile he’d have when you opened your eyes. You could finally breathe again when he pulled away, taking his fingers, and his scent with him. 

“We’ll get you set up with a date this weekend,” he chatted, his friendly tone giving you a headache. “I found a gentleman that looks quite like your wannabe shipwright, so feel free to have a little extra fun if you need to. Just don’t forget your pill, at least not until the wedding. We don’t need any more complications…” 

Uncle Cedrick finally left, but your thoughts were too sharp, so you just stared, frowning at that cheap cocktail. Nausea roiled around your gut too much for you to open your mouth, let alone take a sip. 

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

Buggy threatened them all a few more times, still afraid to reveal his star’s secrets, but he knew he couldn’t do a thing without all of their help. 

“She lied to us, but I’ll shove a Buggy Ball up your–”

“I forgive her,” Crocodile sighed, almost laughing at his little clown. “I don’t care how many lies she told, I love her, and we’re getting her–”

“She didn’t trust us,” Buggy started again, his voice breaking slightly at the thought that she hadn’t trusted him. He pushed through, pushing out the next words as fast as he could. “She gets all that fucking tree money when she gets married, and whoever she marries instantly gets their own piece of that stupid company.”

“What?”

“I know you heard me, Hawk Eyes,” Buggy groaned, his hands floating away from their little huddle to shake and flap through the air. 

“That can’t be right. What idiot would write that in a will,” Crocodile scoffed, watching those floating hands. “If that got out, she’d have a fucking target on her back her whole life. They wouldn’t even need a ransom, they could just kidnap her, and force her to…” 

Eyes met, but all looked away while shame flooded the room.

“No wonder she’d never tell,” Shanks breathed, remembering the face she’d made when he pushed and prodded for her secret to come out. 

“You said she’s getting married,” Mihawk shook himself. That urgent question had stayed unanswered while they comforted each other, while she was adrift out there with no one but enemies beside her. “Who the fuck do we need to kill?”

Buggy laughed, sick laughter, as though his star needed him to let it out since she couldn’t. 

“My flashy girl's got a whole month to go on all sorts of shitty dates,” Buggy ranted, remembering what he’d be listening to for the next few weeks. “She gets to pick her favorite, slimy, fucking ASSHOLE, and then…”

“What, Bugs? We’ll know when the wedding is,” Shanks urged, rubbing his hand down Buggy’s back. “You just tell us when and where, and we’ll go get her.”

Silence went on, except for the scotch scented breaths that surrounded Buggy while he ran through everything he’d heard. They watched him for a few minutes after he brought his hands back, writing every detail he could remember.

“It’s not enough…”

They didn’t prod this time, but three hands touched Buggy again, until he sagged against Shanks’ chest. 

“She wouldn’t leave me for this,” he tried to declare, but had to swallow the pressure in his throat to force it out. “She doesn’t wanna be there, you should hear her…”

Y/N had gone quiet, though he could tell she wasn’t sleeping. It sounded like she was just sitting in silence, not even the rustle of a book to fill the air. 

Like she’d shut herself down.

“She’s smart, and she’s strong. She wouldn’t let him do this to her without a reason.”

“I trust you, Buggy,” Mihawk rasped, giving his clown the hint of a smile. “You’ll figure out the excuse we need to crash that wedding, and I’m certain you’ll put on quite the show.”

“I, yeah,” Buggy frowned as the swordsman's hands trailed down his chest, making him pause. Shanks gave a little huff of protest when Mihawk sank to the pile of rugs, pulling Buggy to the side. 

“She trusts you. She wants you, Buggy,” Mihawk purred, feeling lost in a way that felt right as he followed along with his body’s plans. “You woke her up last night. You should have heard her little noises, should have smelled her after the finale…”

Shanks watched his lovers falling into each other, and there was a fearful urge to attach himself there, to cling, and to claim. 

Yet something in the way their eyes were caught together made the red haired pirate take a breath, pulling himself up to sit on that green couch. The scarred man topped off their glasses of scotch, and they watched the show. 

Crocodile hummed when they tapped their glasses, wondering if it was the scotch, the loss, or the fact that maybe things really were loosening up, that made this moment of sharing so relaxed, so easy. 

“Smelled,” Buggy asked once he could remember how to talk, wetting his lips while he stared at Mihawk’s taunting mouth. Only it wasn’t taunting. 

“Our little rabbit wanted you so badly, I thought she might leap over the crowd just to touch you.”

Buggy sighed, remembering her perfect smile. Then he gasped as Mihawk reached for him, kissing up his throat while those dangerous fingers traveled over his body, pulling at his clothes. 

“What are–”

“I wanted you too, Buggy,” Mihawk confessed, eyes fluttering as he let himself give in, let himself say the things he wanted to say. “I’m so sorry. I treated you… I didn’t see you.”

“I’m kinda hard to miss,” Buggy deadpanned, feeling dizzy when the swordsman laughed. 

Mihawk crawled over the clown, tossing his coat to the floor with barely a thought while he straddled him. He’d pulled at Buggy’s clothes enough that both of their upper bodies were bare, and the clown gave him a puzzled look. 

“Why–”

“I didn’t see how strong you are,” Mihawk purred, moving his body along Buggy’s until the clown made pretty faces for him, soft fabric and leather rubbing together. He heard what sounded like two, pleased hums behind him, but Mihawk was too focused to look back. “Buggy the Clown is smart, and wicked, and powerful. I called you a fool, but… I was the fool. I didn’t see–”

“Shut up,” Buggy grumbled, wiggling away until Mihawk had to lay beside him, propped up on an elbow. The clown’s head was still quiet, but all of those words… 

“Buggy, I–” 

“Stop,” he snarled, cringing at the look in those golden eyes when Mihawk pulled his hand away. 

“I’m sorry, of course,” Mihawk swallowed, not sure what to do with his hand now that it shouldn’t be touching the man he’d hurt.

“Bugs?”

That deep voice was ignored while Buggy sat up, brows furrowed when he got in the swordsman’s face. 

“You love her too,” he announced, clapping a gloved hand along Mihawk’s arm. “I’m glad you love her, but you don’t need to pretend you like me.”

“Little clown…” 

That even deeper voice was ignored while Mihawk sat up, kissing the clown until they both made hungry noises, but Buggy pushed him away. 

“Toy, right? I can play. But we need to get–”

“You’re not a toy,” Mihawk vowed, hoping this would be the last time he’d have to say those words. “I want you, Buggy. I want to be with you, truly.”

The men on the couch had expected less talk during the show, and the urge to assist, and to comfort their boys was ramping up. Shanks watched, wide eyed, unsure if jealousy or gratitude would be a better fit. He took a swig, deciding that he liked gratitude better.

“There’s nothing I can say that will take away what I’ve done,” Mihawk breathed, feeling shameful grief at the fear that this man would never look at him without those monstrous memories behind his eyes. 

“I’m not mad anymore,” Buggy soothed, not sure what was happening. “We’re good, okay? We–”

“Not mad anymore?”

Danger. 

Something fucking deadly just filled the air. The men on the couch tensed, but neither tried to stop it. 

“You must have been sooo angry with me…” 

Shanks held in a laugh, smirking at Crocodile whose brows had lifted high, that frightening face looking shocked, but amused. 

“Well, obviously, but it’s…” Buggy trailed off again, Mihawk’s wicked grin looming closer. 

“I bet you imagined all sorts of ways to make me pay, didn’t you,” the swordsman wondered, biting his lip while his eyes poured over Buggy’s skin. His breath hitched when he noticed that lovely blush moving up the clown’s neck to his pretty face. “Did you imagine how you’d like to punish me?”

Buggy couldn’t help it. He was trying not to get sucked into whatever game this was. He needed to follow his old rules. Don’t get attached. Don’t like them too much. Don’t fall for the con. 

But that perfect fucking face was unreal, the tiny movements around the eyes, the smirking corner of his lips, just fucking daring him to take a bite. 

“I took an anger management class once,” Buggy coughed, shaking his head slowly as if to ward off this manic birdman. “So I’m totally fine!”

“Fine, really? Even after all of those awful things I did. All of those rotten things I said?”

The little flicker in Buggy’s eyes made Mihawk want to beg. He still might, but first, he pushed. 

“What did I call you,” Mihawk hummed, leaning back on a hand while he remembered what a monster he was, trying to make it better. “That’s right. I just couldn’t believe how Y/N had ended up with such a pathetic clown.”

The clown couldn’t hide the slight jerk to his head, the hint of a snarl that anyone but Dracule Mihawk might have missed. 

“I said so many terrible things. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to tear me to pieces,” the swordsman begged, and dared, and apologized. The room felt charged, static before a storm. 

Buggy couldn’t look away from that perfect face.

“Mm, what did I say that first night? We made her promise something, didn’t we? Made her repeat my vicious words…”

The clown would have told him to stop if he could unclench his jaw. 

“Do you remember, Buggy,” he whispered, his body loose, welcoming. “Do you remember how much you wanted to hurt me?”

A soft whine left the clown’s throat when Mihawk teased fingers over his chest, playing in that dark, blue hair. 

“Don’t disappoint us by lowering yourself for that clown? What a cruel thing to say,” Mihawk rasped, almost losing his teasing tone as he drowned in his own guilt. “Are you sure you’re not still angry, Buggy? Even after we made her say–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled, more frightening than any yell the other men had heard from him. He let out a frustrated groan at how fucking happy the swordsman seemed to be while he choked him, both hands disconnected to shove the man onto the floor by the throat. 

“You fucking psycho,” the clown scoffed as he straddled him, snarling down at those fluttering eyes. “Treat me worse than trash, then you get off when you try to say you’re sorry? You’re a fucking monster!”

“I am, please. I am a monster,” Mihawk fell apart, spluttering when Buggy released his neck, nothing hurting him enough to take it all away. “I’m so sorry, Buggy, please…”

Mihawk’s face crumpled, writhing beneath him with pathetic apologies spilling from his quivering lips. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk was crying. Begging for forgiveness. 

He’s really committed to the bit. 

Buggy laughed again, and the look of shame on Mihawk’s face at the sound finally made it sink in. 

He fucking believes it. He believes he deserves it…

“You’d better not think one shitty little tantrum’s gonna be enough for me to forgive you,” Buggy taunted, squeezing the man’s cheeks until his lips pushed out, already wet with drool and tears. 

Mihawk shook his head as much as that grip would allow, panicked whimpers like some chaotic song filling the air while he tried to meet Buggy’s eyes. 

“You gonna let me–”

“Anything,” Mihawk moaned, breaking free enough to breathe his consent against Buggy’s lips. “I deserve anything you want to give me, Buggy. Fucking hurt me–”

The clown’s eyes went wide, shocked by his own fist that had sent Mihawk’s head to the side. He glanced back, but couldn’t decipher the looks the men on the couch gave him, and the look on Mihawk’s face made his mouth dry. 

“Let it out, Buggy,” Mihawk purred, feeling high, feeling right. “Show me how fucking wrong I was about you, darling. Show me–”

“You talk too much, idiot,” Buggy panted, hitting this beautiful, insane man again. 

“I do,” he moaned, overwhelmed, and needing it all. “I said so many–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Buggy tore his gloves off, stuffing them into that mean mouth before stripping them both. He laughed, wicked and hungry, at the pathetic moans forced through that dirty fabric.

“Here.”

Crocodile pulled the lube from the side table, grinning at Buggy’s shocked face when he handed it off to Shanks. The red haired pirate winked at the clown before tossing him the bottle, then stuck his tongue out at the world’s greatest swordsman. 

Mihawk drooled into the gloves, tearing up when Buggy gifted him with vicious nails, scraped down his sides. 

“Don’t stop crying,” Buggy growled in the swordsman’s face while he shoved lubed fingers inside of him, loving the chaos in those watery eyes. “I’m gonna fuck you just like this, so I can watch Dracule Mihawk cry on my cock. Can’t believe I was ever scared of you… You’re just a desperate whore, huh? Just wanna get fucking wrecked by a clown?”

Little noises, frantic nods, tears, and pretty tears, while Buggy forced himself into Mihawk’s tight ass, satisfaction in every rough, punishing thrust. 

“Alright, crybaby, tell me how fucking sorry you are now,” Buggy taunted, ripping the gloves from Mihawk’s lips before fisting into that soft, black hair. The clown was taking him up on his offer, fucking the swordsman harder and faster than he knew he could, fucking every ounce of anger and helplessness that he’d ever felt into the blubbering man beneath him.

“F-fuck, Buggy,” he choked, melting at the powerful look in the clown’s eyes, the evil smile of control on those lips. Melting under that thick, merciless cock that was giving him exactly what he deserved, exactly what he fucking needed. “I’m s-sorry, I–”

“Are you done apologizing?”

Mihawk’s eyes fought to refocus on that smirk, and he shook his head. 

“No, Buggy. Not even close.”

“Good.”

So many things at once. 

Buggy pulled away just enough to give Mihawk a brutal, backhanded slap. The swordsman was rocked by the force, the power, the pleasure, and the moment was so blissfully intense that he came, forgetting everything but the man that took him there.

Buggy laughed at the lovely ropes of come spilling between them, covering the other man’s chest and stomach, but the desperate look on that face dragged him down too. Buggy groaned, filling Mihawk with so much heat that it spilled down the sides of his cock while he kept fucking until they both whined, too much. All too much. 

He finally pulled out, but Mihawk tugged at him, forcing the clown to meet those golden eyes again. 

“I’m sorry, Buggy. I hope you believe me,” he breathed, all that pleasure still not enough to take away his need to make things right. 

“You made a pretty convincing argument,” Buggy smiled, eyes sparking when Mihawk gave a surprised laugh. 

“Look at our pretty, little boys,” Shanks purred, drawing their eyes. 

“Maybe we can get along after all,” Crocodile threatened, his deep voice making every other man fight to resist a shiver. 

“Maybe we–”

Buggy’s stomach was comically loud when it cut Shanks off, and it reminded all of these big, scary men that even they couldn’t survive on scotch and sex indefinitely. 

Even they had to come back down to earth, and remember that their girl was all alone, that they still didn’t know how to get her back.

They were forced to remember that she had never trusted them in the first place. 

“Buggy,” Crocodile soothed, tugging on the clown’s braid, still damp from the shower, while they all spaced out over brunch. “Is she…”

“She’s quiet,” Buggy reported, wishing he could hear her thoughts instead of just her disconcerting heart. “One of the servants said they’re landing in the morning. Something about her mom’s ‘preparations.” 

“Preparations,” Shanks asked, watching his clown for every sign of strain while he listened to his star. 

“Our girl’s about to go on a dating spree,” Buggy reminded, failing to keep his tone light. 

“Are you–”

“I’ll be fine,” Buggy lied, cutting the swordsman off. “You remember what she said. Those assholes are BORING. It’ll probably be a big snooze fest.”

“Just tell us what you need, little clown,” Crocodile hummed. 

His three lovers watched him while the clown closed his eyes, covering his ear to hear that lonely heartbeat. 

“I just need her back,” Buggy whispered, tapping her rhythm onto his own chest. “I need my shining star.”

~~~🐊🤡🔴🗡️~~~

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

Author's Note: Special thanks to the lovely Ao3 readers that leave the most gigantic, juiciest comments that occasionally fit what our boys need way too fucking well 😏🙏🏼 btw, I highly recommend checking out the comments over there! We go wild with that ridiculous character limit 😅 (they started getting longer around chapters 14-16, but hot damn, it's like a little book club lately! 🥰)

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Chapter 29

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