#oh birb? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamamittens · 1 year

Text

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 5)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

(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

265 notes · View notes

mamamittens · 1 year

Text

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 4)

Platonic yandere Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Platonic yandere behavior, possessive behavior, mentions of drugging, and threats of imprisonment/mind break. If any of these make you uncomfortable, please do not read this series. Feel free to block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" and particularly any variation of "yandere one piece".

Do not tolerate any of this behavior in real life.

Have fun and stay safe!

Word Count: 2,890

Awareness didn’t come to you so much as it ebbed and flowed by.

Brief snippets of footsteps far away. The distant chatter of men. Wood groaning with the faintest sensation of movement.

At some point, you felt something heavy and furry slip into your arms, a deep rumbling purr easing you back to sleep. You were warm and comfortable. No one was trying to wake you before you were ready. All your aches and pains were gone. And your head was stuffed with cotton that soaked up any thought that crossed your mind.

You think someone checked on you at one point. A warm calloused hand brushing your face before your unexpected bed partner gave a sweet mewl of complaint and shoved their furry face over your head. Their purr rumbling directly over your eyes as your nose scrunched up at the disturbance. They chuckled warmly.

“How did you even get in here, ‘Tatsu?” he whispered, pulling the blanket up your shoulder. “I know Thatch didn’t brew tea that strong… man, the marines must have been running you ragged, sweetie. But you can sleep in here as long as you need. Promise… It’s rough sometimes but… we really will take care of you, you know? Just… give us a chance to prove it?” he stroked your hair before retreating.

Another metallic click of a lock.

You fell back asleep.

Your eyes opened up reluctantly, your body numb to all but the most persistent commands. Fumbling and blearily petting the large… bob cat? Laying next to you with the most content mewls? Utterly adorable. Almost adorable enough to distract you from how difficult it was to move.

You must have slept in too long. And too hard at that. You flopped over and closed your eyes for a little bit longer, giving your body time to work properly.

Come to think of it, why hadn’t you been woken up before now? Williams was ever so eager to hit the town and patrol. And if not him, then many others would have woken you up for one reason or another. A report to make. Training to do. Cleaning. Wrangling in Williams before he burns someone’s house down. Any number of reasons, really. But no one… did?

And who’s cat were you cuddling anyway? No complaints here but… who the hell had such a massive cat?

You reached out, brushing your hand over the sheets as, quite suddenly, the sensation of fabric constricting your wrist registered. You fumbled, smacking your hands together as you blindly felt for the offending object. It was kind of soft, the excess trailing onto the bed from where it was secured. That wasn’t part of your uniform…

Oh.

Wait, no it was! It was part of your uniform!

It hit you suddenly. Fire Fist in the town. Stefan—the criminally cute criminal dog—and running afoul of The Phoenix. Being kidnapped and stripped of your uniform to meet Whitebeard. Who approved of you for some reason.

Sensations were now properly registering as you slowly sat up. No longer sensory-blind, you looked around the dark room. No light to be seen, it was only the crack under the doorway that gave you anything to go by.

Right. The drugged tea… you were going to be more careful of anything Twin-Blade served you from now on. Why bother drugging you? Where would you go in the middle of the ocean from, presumably, the bowels of the ship?

The big cat mewled sweetly, shoving their wet nose into your neck and licked plaintively. You shuddered with a chuckle, reaching up with a much more cooperative limb to rub their ear. It went over fantastically well, as you expected.

Now, you just need to figure out where your glasses went and what the hell was going on.

--*--

“C’mon, Marco, please let me have the key~?” Thatch cried out, throwing himself onto Marco’s side as he bat his eyes. Marco gave a slight, annoyed sigh.

“No, yoi. You’re not going to wake them up.” Marco stated firmly while he ate lunch.

“But they’ve been asleep for so long! Without eating!” Thatch pleaded, laying his front on the table.

“And who’s fault is that?” Marco pondered distantly, chewing a well-seasoned piece of sea king meat. Across the room Oyaji chuckled at Thatch’s dramatics and Marco’s predicament. Ace was just busy shoving food down into his bottomless pit of a stomach like he never heard of the word ‘table manners’. And nothing anyone ever did has managed to change that since he had joined the crew.

“I wanna meet them! Properly!” Thatch wept as though this situation wasn’t his own damn fault.

“No.” Marco finished his meal and stood up to go check himself. Hopefully, they’ll have woken up on their own by now. He had ducked his head in to check on you before eating and you were still sound asleep. Kotatsu somehow having snuck in. If he hadn’t been around the big cat for about two years now, he wouldn’t have believed Ace that he didn’t let Kotatsu in. Guess it wasn’t just Stefan that loved you already, the dog having kept vigil for nearly two hours at your door until Oyaji took him to bed himself.

Thatch jolted up, hopeful as could be, until Marco shot him a look and wilted. Back to mumbling forlorn complaints about ‘no longer being loved as he should be’ or something.

“… I guess if they’re awake now they’ll need to eat something.” Marco observed as he slowly walked away, knowing full well he was getting Thatch’s hopes up. “Not from you though. I doubt they’ll forget about the tea anytime soon.” Marco shot a look back to find Thatch as little more than a puddle of tears.

Good.

He deserved it.

Marco casually made his way from the mess hall to where your room was situated.

It was… a bit of a spur of the moment idea. Taking you.

Really, he was content to watch over the loading of supplies by the rest of the crew while Ace got out his energy on the town. Then he got the call that Stefan had decided to board the Moby Junior ship—as well as the confirmation that he’d slipped out after Ace. Which meant he needed to case the island to figure out where the dumb dog went. Really, Stefan should have known better. Why he decided to explore now of all times, Marco wasn’t sure. But he had to bring him back anyway.

Which lead to you.

A marine who decided their time was better spent giving a goofy dog water than helping your own comrade fight Ace. Lavishing the dog with attention, really. And after seeing your comrade’s attitude he couldn’t really blame you. The idea of any of his own brothers acting like that made his eyes narrow with fury. Cocky and arrogant with no regard for the people around him, way worse than Ace during his assassin days—at least Ace ensured his antics only affected Oyaji. Then again, Ace was clearly hurting and deeply depressed.

That guy—Marco didn’t bother remembering his name, why should he?—was just an asshole.

And the punch was just unnecessary.

Even at that moment, Marco didn’t intend to… surprise recruit you. Just fix your broken nose and maybe offer some advice. At least you had more sense than most marines he’d met. You didn’t even try to fight him or get involved with Ace’s fight, aware of your own limits. The amount of marines that threw themselves at Marco hoping to somehow defeat him, when they couldn’t even beat Stefan, was just sad.

Then you looked up at him with teary eyes, glasses on the ground with a cracked lens, and blood all over your hands. Pupils unfocused and unsteady. You didn’t even look surprised that your comrade had broken your nose for trying to save his sorry hide. Just surprised that anyone was willing to help you. And even then, Marco just felt bad for you. You held promise and it was just being wasted on ungrateful assholes. You were going to be one of those marines that actually meant something to people, he could already tell.

Then he touched you and the world exploded in blue fire. His devil fruit sang. Like on flights at dawn when seagulls brave enough to do so decided to join him. Peace and a strange mix of security and strength washed over him like Oyaji’s good booze. He felt your injury like it was his own as it was washed away in an instant. All of them were. Little aches and pains from being overworked and underappreciated. In fact, the sensation was so much so that it took him longer than it should have to realize he needed to reign it in before he fully transformed. And through it all was your wide-eyed expression of surprise, red blood washed in golden light.

Incredible intrigue took over his thoughts. He wanted that again. More of it. Wanted to selfishly hoard the feeling of kinship he had for those precious few seconds. Like the height of a party with his family on a forgotten beach somewhere with he world far away and anything worth caring about in arms reach. That was when he decided to take you.

You tried to look around him but he wouldn’t have it. Forced you—gently, you’re family now—to look at him as he asked you who you were. What all of this was.

“M-My devil fruit! It—uhm—affects other devil fruits? Makes… makes them stronger around me. O-Or just… touching.” You stuttered out as hot fury settled in his chest.

Very few devil fruits directly affect other fruits without them being… adversaries. Ice and fire fruits most famously tend to…conflict even under the best circumstances. To have a devil fruit that specifically empowers other devil fruits was extraordinary. And out of what Marco assumed was sheer stupidity and arrogance, you weren’t safely kept under lock and key by an admiral. At minimum. Perhaps a secretary for Sengoku since you’re clearly too inexperienced at combat to be a front-line fighter, as well as at a disadvantage with your fruit. Or an apprentice for someone of note in literally any of the blues.

Not with some laughably weak ensign. Any of the supernovas or one of Big Mom’s many children could have easily stumbled across you by now. And just—plucked—you right up. And one of the marine’s best upcoming resources would be gone in an instant. You weren’t even being treated like the promising recruit you were, either. Where was your commanding officer? Fellow recruits? Someone—anyone—to encourage comradery and loyalty to your fellow marines?

What an absolutely criminal waste.

Marco came to a stop in front of your door, fishing out the key from his pocket.

You’d do far better here than with any of them. He wasn’t sure why you were a marine to start with but he’d make sure you found support here that you certainly weren’t getting there. You’ll find a place where you belong—with them—soon enough.

He’d make sure of it.

Marco opened the door and was pleasantly surprised to find you sitting up, though struggling under Kotatsu’s hefty weight, and squinting around the room for your glasses. He chuckled, flicking on the light and closing the door, plucking your cracked glasses.

He slid them onto your face, tapping your nose gently even though the brief contact teased his devil fruit immensely.

“Afternoon, blue bird.” Marco grinned. “You slept for a long time. How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You looked at him nervously and a little weirded out. Marco knew that you’d adjust eventually, so he found amusement in your expression instead.

“Uh… Alright. How long was I out?” You asked softly, leaning back as Kotatsu oozed onto your lap for scritches. Without even thinking about it, you obliged, relaxing against the big cat that you definitely didn’t know before waking up.

“Well, it’s actually been well over a day. Guess you must have really needed the rest.” Marco observed, noting that you looked much livelier than before. “But you’re probably really hungry now, aren’t you? C’mon, I’ll show you where to get food.”

Your nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Get food? Aren’t I… being locked in this room?” You asked. Which, yes, that’s part of the plan. Mostly for when you go to sleep or if they run into trouble before you integrate properly. It’ll hopefully cut down on the nonsense. Like attempts to contact the marines or escape on your own.

Marco chuckled, indulging himself a little as he cupped your cheek, fire barely flickering over his knuckle as you gawked at him.

“Well, not all the time, no. Don’t worry, we’ll all keep an eye out for you while you adjust.” You looked like you ate something sour and Marco couldn’t help but laugh, fully aware of your current feelings on the matter. “It’s not quite what you expected but you’ll love it here, really. Just… give it a chance.”

You grimaced again, looking away nervously.

“And if I still want to be a marine?” You asked suspiciously.

Marco refrained from laughing as something hot and distinctly feral sneered. Gently, his brushed his hand back a little more and tilted your face to him firmly. Pressing his forehead to yours as he gave you an indulgent but understanding look. He wanted you to understand that you were here to stay.

You were lucky that he hadn’t made you room with him for the time being to make sure of it. But if you did somehow managed to slip away from the ship well…

He’d rip apart whatever ship you were sailing on and keep you in his talons until you gave up on being anywhere else.

“You won’t.” Marco smiled, dangerously close to transforming and indulging his phoenix form in the kinship you exuded.

But you were hungry and already nervous enough as it was. Wide eyes clearly fearful for his next action. You just didn’t understand yet. Naïve and so optimistic you became a marine, of course you didn’t get it yet. He wasn’t going to hurt you. You were safe here, even from your own misconceptions. He’d make sure of it in due time.

But first, you had to trust him.

Reluctantly, Marco let go and backed off, having made his point.

This wasn’t like with Ace, who just needed to be shown that there were people willing to love him right where he was. Angry and bitter at the world that spat at him.

You needed to see that you were safe here. That anything you could ever need was readily available in this ship, with this crew. Your skills, your sweet attitude, your everything was wasted as a marine. It would simply never be appreciated in their ranks like it should be. But here was an exception. His family and him would be the exception.

And you’d stay right where you were until you learned that. If you proved to struggle with this simple concept because of your naivety? Well, the door had a perfectly functional lock. A week or two of being handled personally would do the trick just fine. You did look quite cute after drinking Thatch’s special ‘welcoming’ tea, dizzy and stumbling as their words passed over your head. Maybe spending that time being reminded how confusing and overwhelming the world really is would speed things up. It certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Pain would just make you afraid of him. Of them. Hurting you to prove a point is what those marines would do. No. That wouldn’t do at all and isn’t how they ever did things if they could help it.

You’ll love them. Wouldn’t imagine a world without them.

And Marco couldn’t wait to see it happen.

--*--

Garp relaxed in his chair, eating rice crackers as Sengoku received the report grimly. Garp winced as the receiver was slammed down.

After a moment of—relative—silence, Garp spoke up.

“…Welp, there goes that plan.” Sengoku glared at him. “What?! Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t my idea to station them all the way out there!”

After a moment, Sengoku relaxed, sighing with his whole body as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know it’s just… the trial period was almost over and we could have moved them where they were supposed to be from the start.” Sengoku hissed.

“Well, I know why we didn’t do it from the start—that devil fruit is weird—but you know I would have trained them myself if you asked. Sweet kid. Really more of an animal person though, eheh~!” Garp cackled. “Promising recruit too.”

Sengoku huffed, leaning back in his chair with a groan.

“… We’re going to have to tell him, you know.” Sengoku groaned louder, sinking into his seat at Garp’s words. “He’s going to be pissed though… Welp! I guess that’s why you’re the Fleet Admiral.” Garp grinned, swiftly running out of the office with an extra pack of rice crackers.

“Y-YOU! GET BACK HERE, YOU COWARD!”

Hell no. Senny could deliver that news himself.

#one piece yandere #platonic yandere #reader insert #oh sweet child of mine #yandere marco #marco the phoenix #yandere one piece #marco is absolutely intense under that calm exterior #really on the brink of not being so chill after all #its the birb instinct to hoard nice things #and you're the nicest prize he's taken yet ( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧#yandere whitebeard crew

297 notes · View notes