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mamamittens · 1 year

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Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 5)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard & Reader-Insert

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(This feels like the Marco chapter, and I'm not even sorry. Not intended to be shippy btw, but I totally understand if it's read that way)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior, implied threats of physical violence, and intimidation. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Next chapter won't have such a heavy Marco focus I swear lol

Have fun and be safe!

Word Count: 3,325

Absolutely horrifying. That’s about how you’d describe the experience of eating lunch in a completely abandoned kitchen under the watchful eye of The Phoenix. Having been told in no uncertain terms that you would ‘get used to it’, you resigned yourself to a more timid, cautious eye for escape. Certainly nothing risky as it was abundantly clear that you weren’t leaving unless he let you.

Why exactly everyone else seemed to just go with it was also unclear but from the reaction of Fire Fist this seemed… normal?! To just—well—pick someone and keep them in the crew?! Either it was treated as a more amusing but regular way Whitebeard gained ‘children’ or excused under some respect towards your devil fruit. You had never heard of pirates recruiting quite like this. Sure, some hapless civilian will be taken in due to poor circumstances and an inability to take on the pirates themselves, but piracy is quite a dangerous life as is. The last thing any self-respecting crew would want is a hazard on board. A rouge agent ready to see them sink or be killed at the first opportunity.

Not, however, that you thought you were capable of such a feat on your own. A sentiment you suspected was shared with the very crew you were being kept by. Perhaps that explained at least some of the craziness occurring. If you had nothing to fear of any of your actions, why not just take what you want? With total impunity? A bit hedonistic but frankly, the Whitebeard Pirates weren’t known to be saints to begin with. Even though, among Yonkos, they’re one of the more… tolerable pirate crews all around. Red-Hair was more known for partying and raising hell for the fun of it but then there was Big Mom and Kaido.

Fuck yourself sideways if it was Big Mom or Kaido that found you instead.

Though at least it would be less confusing then. Whitebeard’s crew had this thick veneer of ‘family’ about it that they all really believed in and made hating them feel… weird. Complicated, at least, though you still wanted nothing to do with any of them. Big Mom’s crew had some of that ‘family’ vibe about it but more like… a ruthless, constant struggle to impress their ‘mom’. Even at a distance you knew that the inner politics of Big Mom’s crew was rife with struggle.

Here though, it was all a lot more relaxed. You could almost believe they had good intentions. Hell, if you had walked on board of your own volition, it would even be a breath of fresh air. You know. For a pirate crew.

And really, that’s what freaked you out the most.

They were pirates.

A fucking Yonko crew.

And they acted like you weren’t a marine here unwillingly. Like you were just another child of Whitebeard having a bit of a rebellious phase and soon to drop it and go back to being a good kid. And you’ve never met any of them before in your life.

Fucking bizarre.

And the second worst thing is that you’ve finished what was definitely the most delicious meal of your life without even tasting any of it. Too occupied by your thoughts and the amused stare down The Phoenix was treating you to, elbows on the counter with his chin resting in his palm. Eyes partially closed with a soft smile. You couldn’t decide if it was fascination or some form of restrained malice that cut across the short distance.

Whatever it was could join the line in the list of things freaking you the fuck out. And hopefully fuck off in no particular order but you haven’t gotten what you wanted in years, so why start now?

The Phoenix sat up, instantly gaining your attention as he grinned.

“Well, now that you’ve rested and eaten, I think it’s time to see where you’re at, yoi.” You frowned, looking around the empty room.

“Uhm… I guess the kitchen? Or at least one of them?” You mumbled, getting increasingly nervous about what he would do next.

Another little speech about how you’ll totally love it here as a pirate and should just get over your silly hangups? Veiled threats to hunt you for sport if you disagree?

The Phoenix laughed, shaking his head as he stood up, taking your dishes to the closest sink.

“No, blue bird. I’m curious to know how your fighting skills are.” The Phoenix stated and you blanched instinctively.

“Nowhere near good enough to fight you.” You responded quickly, desperately hopeful he didn’t mean that you were going to fight him. While you could take a hit well enough, you weren’t a masochist. And you needed no demonstration that he could kick your ass. The Phoenix grinned with a little too much teeth, tapping your nose fondly.

“Oh, I know that, blue bird. It’s good that you know that too, though. It’s kind of refreshing not dealing with a cocksure marine.” He huffed. “No, you’ll try fighting someone else. Without a devil fruit.” He gently brought you along with him through the ship past several curious crew members, his arm firmly around your shoulder.

You grimaced at the reminder about devil fruits. You could feel quite a few on board, the pull of theirs on yours likely why you slept so long. You’d never been strained like this before, though the ache quickly faded to a more tolerable level compared to when you first boarded the ship. Whether that was your own ability getting stronger or your sense of relative struggle getting screwed with, you weren’t sure. The Phoenix constantly touching you also helped disorient you.

You wished that your previous partners had focused on figuring out how to lessen your devil fruit rather than constantly abusing it to get a power up. Too late now though.

Eventually, The Phoenix led you to a large room with walls of weapons and a training mat in the middle.

“This is where we test out new recruits and occasionally see if a different weapon would be a better fit. What’s your preference, yoi?” You hissed in a grimace.

Unfortunately, your strongest fighting style was hand to hand combat. Understandably not advised after you ate your devil fruit. You’d been working with a bo staff after enlisting but had absolutely no time training with it unless you counted sweeping the barracks.

“Hand to hand, actually.” You shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been trying to use a bo staff but I never got time to train with it beyond not smacking my face.” The Phoenix chuckled, ruffling your hair and pointing to the center of the room.

“Wait there, yoi. I’ll bring someone over to spar you.” Nervous, you removed your shoes and padded over to the middle of the mat. It was a pretty good sparring mat, actually. Enough give to soften a fall but not unstable to walk on. Upon closer inspection you noticed that the weapons displayed were all training weapons. No live steel or sharp edges to be found. Blunt weapons were still quite dangerous, especially if you get too comfortable with their ‘safety’, but it was all part of the learning process.

“Hey.” You jolted, half turning to see a large man standing behind you. Well over twice your size and thicker than any tree you climbed as a child. “What are you doing, marine.”

Oh. So some of the crew was aware of your job. And not strictly approving of your appearance here. It was almost reassuring. While you didn’t want any of the Yonko crew to hate you, the idea of all literal thousands of them instantly liking you made you nauseous. Even the well over a thousand members currently on board having zero issue with you made your bones shudder.

“The Phoenix told me to wait here until he came back with someone to spar with.” You answered honestly with a shrug, fighting to not fidget under the man’s intense glare. He grinned, several teeth missing.

“I’ll spar you. No weapons?” You shook your head, not sure if you should argue against him as you pushed your glasses back up your nose.

You didn’t want to disobey The Phoenix on your first day and set up a pattern of disobedience that he’d need to keep a closer eye on. But the man before you also didn’t look like he was going to take no for an answer.

Luckily, the man has the worst posture you’ve ever seen. He threw a punch down at you, the angle awkward as it was clear he enjoyed winning fights with overwhelming force against opponents closer to his eye level. Truthfully, you don’t have a lot of natural skills going for you. You weren’t born with incredible strength or speed. You bruised like a peach and your body was more or less quite average to adjusting to training. And you certainly wasn’t going to worry about being too tall to enter establishments anytime soon.

So you had to get smart. You knew long ago that you’d never out-punch everyone. Not that you shouldn’t ever try but well… some heights were simply out of your reach.

The man was sloppy. A brute that likely preferred blunt weapons for the satisfaction of breaking bones. He tensed up in all the wrong places—likely to accommodate the massive weapon he usually wielded. Not the worst fighter you’ve seen by far.

But definitely worse at it than you. At least when it came to fighting someone so much smaller than himself—a real issue that tended to crop up on the Grand Line.

Your feet slid into place, knees bending to brace yourself against the brief but overwhelming force. Your hands grasping the man’s arm as you pivoted the angle of descent, using his own weight against him as he flew overhead. Back slamming into the ground with a hard thud that genuinely lifted you off your feet. It was a basic defensive maneuver.

But that didn’t stop you from laughing a little at his surprised expression, your fingertips still resting over his pulse point as it raced. After a moment you let his arm drop.

“Are you alright?” You couldn’t help but ask after a few more moments, the man’s eyes still fixed on you, more or less. “Sorry, I’m not really strong enough to soften the throw for someone your size. Do you need a doctor?”

“Yes, Haymes, do you need a doctor, yoi?” You nearly jumped as The Phoenix spoke up from just behind you, his hand falling onto your shoulder firmly. Haymes, apparently, grew increasingly pale under what must have been a horrifically intense glare. You certainly weren’t checking to see it for yourself.

“N-No, C-Commander Marco!” The man stuttered in fear.

“Then. Get. Up.” The Phoenix hissed. “You know the rules.” He growled over your shoulder.

Rules? Oh. Right. Of course they have rules. Why wouldn’t they have rules?

What the hell were the rules?!

“Y-Yes sir, sorry!” The man scrambled to run away. After a few heartbeats, you turned your head to find that The Phoenix was giving you that mildly unsettling smile again. You… decided not to ask about those ‘rules’.

The Phoenix cleared his throat and tipped his head to the man standing just behind him.

Closer to your own height, thankfully, and a bit of a boxer’s frame. The man gave you a polite smile despite glancing nervously at his commander.

“This is Newt. Newt will spar with you a few times to see where you’re at. Polite rules of engagement.” The Phoenix stated before throwing a side glance at Newt. “I better not have to deal with any broken bones, yoi.”

You gave Newt a reassuring smile, having zero intention of breaking anything. Personally, you hated how it felt to break bones under your own hands. The sensation and vibration in your own body unsettling. Newt gave you a small smile back and nodded.

“Sure thing, Marco.” The Phoenix nodded his satisfaction and walked off the mat, choosing to lean against the wall to watch. You wished he didn’t but knew better than to argue. What would you even say?

‘Uh, The Phoenix, sir, man capable of healing all but the most grievous wounds, would you please stop overseeing a spar with a Yonko pirate? Thanks.’

Newt shuffled into place away from you, his stance much more appropriate and relaxed that Haymes. A little stiff still, but balanced. You guessed he preferred solid blows with his palms in rapid speed. Maybe a few punches to harder areas to knock the air from his opponents. Not much of a leg guy, you already knew he would plant himself and work from there.

Unfortunately for him, you had been described as ‘frustratingly wily and wriggly’. Constantly moving into an optimum position to redirect blows and strike.

You got into position and waited, in absolutely no hurry to make the first move. The waiting often got to people, not used to engaging in a fight with someone who doesn’t want to be there to begin with. Made them tense. Made them nervous. And Newt, despite being a capable fighter, was definitely getting nervous.

He grit his teeth and moved.

You leaned back slightly and forced his arm to follow the natural bend of his elbow to the opposite side of where he intended to hit you, unbalancing him. Your foot sliding out to knock him over onto his side, aided by the gentle hand pushing into his chest.

It was, perhaps, your most sadistic tendency to aim for ending a fight in the first move with as little wasted effort as possible. Without a lot of stamina, you didn’t have the luxury to entertain long fights. And as a marine, your aim was to arrest pirates as fast as possible. Was it a bit emasculating for your opponent? Yes. But it wasn’t exactly about honor, glory, or humoring people that you fought to begin with.

You fought because you had to. Everything else was secondary. You preferred to call it being pragmatic.

Newt blinked up at you in shock before grinning, laughing loudly as he accepted your hand in getting up.

“Eheh~ Wow!” Newt cackled, shaking his head. “Let’s try that again.”

You returned to your waiting stance.

This time, Newt attacked much faster.

He went lower this time, to your other side. Likely assuming that it was weaker.

You answering response was to pivot back and in the same direction that he was coming from, swinging in even lower to sweep his legs out from under him while he was overreaching.

Another straightforward blow.

You went in closer under his arm, turning your back to his chest as your foot hooked around his braced leg and throwing him over your body onto the floor with his own momentum.

The side again but not as low, swinging in wide.

You spun around him just ahead of his own arc and yanked the back of his shirt, sending him tumbling to the floor in shock.

Finally, a high, roundhouse kick to try and catch you off guard.

To be funny, you spun towards and around him twice, catching him on the second turn and spinning him away from you where he collapsed in a dizzy heap.

Newt was full on laughing at this point, sweaty arm covering his face as he panted for breath.

“Y-You’re supposed to try and hit me!” He cried foul. You offered your hand to him again.

“Sorry.” You said, not very sorry at all. “You look like I’d have a better time punching a brick wall.” He accepted it with grace and stood up, waving to The Phoenix on the far wall.

“Good enough, Marco?” Newt asked breathlessly. The Phoenix nodded with a half-smile.

“Yeah, Newt. You did good, now go shower before returning to Haruta.” The Phoenix declared. “I don’t want to hear any complaints about the smell, yoi.”

His eyes returned to you and you grinned nervously.

“Yes, The Phoenix?” His eyes narrowed and he slowly stalked forward, not helping your poor heart in the slightest. He leaned down until his nose was almost touching yours, hand gently bringing your sweaty forehead against his. You felt the fire flicker over your heated skin, tending to the mild aches in a wash of power. His eyes unwavering in their annoyance anyway.

“Marco. Just Marco, blue bird.” He grumbled. “You’re family now, yoi. No titles or epitaphs.”

You grimaced, gently trying to push him away from you. Rejecting, though softly, the whole ‘family’ thing. He didn’t even budge, his eyes the only indication he even noticed. The color turning colder as gold flickered over his lashes. His gaze looked less human and more predatory as he suddenly smirked.

The room exploded in blue fire as you were suddenly shoved down onto the floor. You yelped in fear, feeling talons press onto chest back as a heavy weight settled over you.

A gold beak broke through the terrifyingly beautiful display of living fire, dark blue mask and sapphire eyes narrowed down at you. It didn’t hurt, not even a little, but the pressure was a threat on it’s own. He cocked his head at you, waiting for your response.

You didn’t know why you weren’t as afraid as you really should have been. His talons were no joke. He could easily disembowel you right now and probably heal you back again in seconds just to repeat the process. He even looked mostly amused now, staring down at you with eyes only superficially human.

His beak clacked with mild annoyance that you weren’t playing along already or giving him anything to react to. Not even fear despite the compromising position.

Right.

Phoenix.

He’s on fire, sure, but still a bird. And you’ve never been scared of animals like others are. Even when they’re threatening you.

Somehow, his human form freaked you out more than the literal bird of fire. Which didn’t even burn. The flames licked at you freely with all the softness of a down feather. The heat negligible at best though feeling bizarrely cool. Like the shade on a hot beach.

Hilariously, the idea of calling him Marco now was less horrifying than when he looked like a man. More horrifying was the instinctive desire to coo at how pretty he was. Which was very, very pretty.

You should, under no circumstances, tell the Yonko pirate he’s a pretty birdy. Even if he really, really is.

He isn’t actually a bird. He’s a grown man. Intimidating you into using his actual name. And you’ve been staring for quite some time instead of responding in any particular way like a maniac.

“… For everyone or just you?” You asked faintly, still trying to refrain from cooing at his gorgeous plumage. He blinked in surprise, leaning down further to push your glasses back up with the tip of his beak.

“… Aren’t you scared of me?” He asked, settling down and removing his foot from your chest, merely standing over you. “You’ve been scared of me so far, yoi.”

You chuckled nervously, finally giving into temptation to pet his face.

“You’re a really pretty bird.” You explained, face hot with embarrassment. “Marco.” His feathers ruffled all the way to his tail in pleasure.

You distantly considered it a win he wasn’t insisting on being called some version of ‘brother’. You didn’t care how mesmerizing his plumage was, that was a step too far in your book.

He gave a pleased trill, running his beak through your hair briefly before the fire abruptly cut out. Hands pulled you up against his chest as he hugged you tightly, chin tucked against your hair.

“Now for Oyaji—”

“Absolutely not.” Rather than getting pissed off, Marco seemed to content himself with the ‘progress’ so far. Whispering into your ear.

“We’ll work on it.”

#one piece yandere #platonic yandere #yandere whitebeard crew #yandere marco #marco the pheonix #oh sweet child of mine #reader insert #hopefully this comes across as more unhinged big brother vibes #but birb instincts on top lol #he deserves to be called a pretty bird and i wont apologize for doing it

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