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theblueflower05 · 11 months

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Fxtavang(passionate) | Part One

A/N: So this is the accumulation of multiple different ideas that I’ve had cooking since December- I somehow managed to roll them into one giant clusterfuck. Enemies to lovers(ish), A/B/O, Warrior! Reader. All of it. I hope ya'll enjoy the filth.

Word Count: 10 k+

Warnings: Talks of secondary Gender. Sexual tension. Alien Sex. Alien Genetalia. Bottom Neteyam. Subby Neteyam. Femdom. Oral sex(male recieving) Fingering(male receiving)

Summary: Neteyam can't stand you. Or at least that’s what he tells everyone else. It's getting harder to force himself to believe the lie. Omega Neteyam x Alpha! Female! Reader

Series Masterlist

Part Two>

We do not exist in

Any other instant

Here in this dimension

You and I are meant to be- Stay Ready(What a Life) Jhene Aiko, Kendrick Lamar

Life in Awa’atlu starts early, even before the rays of the sun touch the crystalline waves, the village is stirring with life. Fishermen casting their nets, sails being pulled taut. The fkio(bird-like creatures) caterwaul between each other in the Sherbert sky; the only sounds piercing the still quiet of the morning eclipse.

Neteyam had thought the forest awoke early, but no. It was no comparison to Island. The ocean never slept; the waves consistent in their movement. Rhythmic like a beating heart. He still hasn't quite gotten used to it.

This particular morning was no different.

He awoke in his corner of the family Mauri, rubbing at his sleep crusted eyes. His siblings were still asleep, tucked soundly in their blankets. His mother is molasses slow, only his father truly awake. “Too many years in the military” Jake had always claimed. He could never sleep much at all- was the first up and the last down.

Jake offers a molded clay cup full of strong, dark violet leaf tea to him, as he does everyday. Brews a pot for the family as soon as he awakes. All of his children are caffeine addicts, much to Neytiri’s chagrin.

Neteyam grumbles his gratefulness before taking it and chugging at the bitter contents. Needing the energizing boost before he starts his daily duties.

“Tonowari’s girl still riding you hard?” Jake wonders and Neteyam almost spits out his tea at the mental image it conjures.

The vulgar dreams he had just woken from.

How he wishes that you were riding him. Hard as you could. As often as possible.

He doesn't tell his father that of course, instead keeps it easy and casual. The older man is a soldier through and through and training is one of his favorite topics to discuss.

“Y/N’s not an easy mentor, no. But I enjoy the fact that she doesnt baby me”

“Yeah, she wouldn't. Her dad’s Omega, they’re not held back with kiddie gloves here. I just wanna make sure she’s not being too hard on you. I know that you didn't get along with her when we first got here-” Jake is working on repairing Tuk’s tweng, the kid is growing so fast these days. He’s not watching his eldest son's face, if he could he’d be able to see the deception clear as day on Neteyam’s expression.

“She’s fine. Our sessions are almost over. I can't say that I’ll miss them much.”

Lie. Biggest fattest lie. The words taste acidic in his mouth.

“Yeah, her and that brother of hers have an attitude, that’s for sure. Make sure to stay on her good side. She’ll be the next chief” Jake gives his eldest a pointed look and Neteyam nods.

Yes sir, noted.

Neteyam completes his morning tasks quickly. Makes sure his bed roll is tucked away, that the loincloth he selects for the day is clean and the leather straps are secured tightly. His face is washed, and braids are neat- desperately in need of maintenance, but neat. He wonders if Kiri would fix them for him, the process of it is long and grueling and she did only sort him out weeks ago-

But the saltwater is rough on his hair. He wonders if it will ever acclimate.

Lo’ak would give him shit if he was awake- not that that skxwng was ever up before the horn for communal breakfast was sounded. His little brother liked to tease Neteyam about his vanity-

“We get it. You’re pretty, bro. Why don't you put on some lipstick while you’re at it”

It had caused many a scuffle between the two, and usually ended with Neteyam pinning the younger to the ground, face down, demanding that he took it back. Lo’aks arm’s bent behind his back at precarious angles- not released until he groveled for mercy.

It was no secret that Neteyam could be…prickly about his secondary gender. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his designation, no. There was no shame in being an Omega. It was all of the stupid societal stigmas that came with it. Omegas are supposed to be soft and docile. Family oriented and submissive-

Neteyam had rebelled against it for as long as he could remember. He wasn't going to sit at home and weave blankets(although his weaving skills were admittedly par excellence). From the moment he could get his hands on a bow, he knew what his role in the clan would be.

Hunter. Warrior. Protector. Future Olo’eyktan.

He’d fought, tooth and nail, against any doubts that were thrown his way.

Dubbed the youngest Omiticaya to ever make a clean kill, his prowess on ikran back unmatched. His Iknimaya had almost been uneventful, for he’d completed any tasks thrown at him with the ease that even some twice his age didn't possess. Then, when the humans came back, resuming their reign of terror on the planet of Pandora, he’d shocked everyone again. War was not easy, but battle strategy was something that came naturally to Neteyam- he was dangerous. A weapon made of flesh gliding amongst the clouds.

All of that seemed so futile now.

Having to start fresh was painfully unfair.

It meant having to work twice as hard as any Beta or Alpha, again, to prove his worth.

He tried not to be too bitter about it, the vicious uprooting from The Forest was something that would sit in his belly like stones forever, but he couldn't dwell on it if he wanted to build a life for himself here.

“Neteyam, shouldn't you be ;eavomg soon?” Neytiri’s soft, accented voice breaks him out of his thoughts “The dawn has broken, you’ll be late for training.”

Fuck.

He snatches up his borrowed spear in a flurry of movement, eager to get down to the beach, He can't be late again.

“Eat something first, Ma ‘Itan! Where will your strength come from? I’ll make you a meal” She insists, pan searing a slab of meat from a recent hunt. Her eyes are sharp and usually he wouldn't deny her.

He’s always gone these days, before the sun fully shines. Back when the sky has broken out into stars. Keen to be on his way.

More preoccupied with training then anything else.

“I will grab something on the way, do not worry. Be back before evening eclipse, promise!” He slips, lithe and easy, out of the Mauri. Ignoring his mother's protesting hisses and his father's low chuckle.

As much as the parental love was appreciated- he always has to bite his tongue. He’s not a child, he’s nearly twenty for Christ's sake.

The netted pathways that interconnect the village had once confused him, but now he walks them surely. Knowing he wont get lost as he had in the past. Almost no one gawk's at him anymore which is admittedly nice. He’ll never quite fit in, dark indigo in a sea of teal, but he’s a familiar oddity now. Mothers no longer pull their children away when the Sully’s pass, and he even gets a few off handed waves.

He supposes it’s probably your doing.

He’d never forget the day he’d watch you tackle a warrior twice your size to the ground, your blade gleaming dangerously as you pressed it against his throat. “They are our people now! Why do you mock your own, you ignorant swine. Do you need me to teach you the meaning of Uturu? Or should I find my father and let him know that you disregard the word of Olo’eyktan?”

Neteyam’s stomach flops as he thinks back on the memory, on the look in your eyes. On the efficiency in which you commanded respect.

He both hated and admired it about you. That spitfire attitude and silver tongue.

Alpha’s like you have always turned him off; too loud and obnoxious for his taste. When you’d first met admittedly, he’d turned up his nose. Uninterested in the Alpha daughter of Olo’eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal. Even during group training, he was polite but obviously uninterested in forming any kind of friendship with you.

When you’d offered him one on one’s he’d almost declined. Only the promise of teaching him the ways of the reef warriors kept him from saying no. You’d help him pass his Metkayinan Iknimaya, that was the only reason he’s spending so much time with you.

That’s what he tells everyone.

And definitely what he tells himself.

Because surely Neteyam can't admit that he awakes in the morning over eager to see your pretty face.

That he sneaks away at night to hide among the tall overgrown palms behind the village. Biting his lips bloody as he plays with his slit until his hard cock slips free from the protection of his body…the whole time he brings himself closer to that pleasured edge all he can think about is you. Chokes on your name as he comes all over his own hands.

He forces all of that down.

He’s always been good at pretending that he doesn't have room for feelings, and between the spray of bullets and the pressure of becoming the future leader of his clan, that had been his truth. There had been no time for courting, much less mating, back home. Yeah, since he’d noticed his affinity for female Alpha’s he’d been attracted to many Omiticayan women- but nothing like this.

You’d wormed your way under his skin.

He has a terrible crush on you.

You’re waiting for him on the beach, at the edge of the village. Peeling apart pieces of a fruit, eating distractedly. When your eyes land on him they brighten with interest.

You’re gorgeous, though not at all what he was used to when it came to Alpha women.

The ones back home were tall and hard. Their beauty almost severe. At the other end of the spectrum lies you. Short and thick, your shoulders and hips wide. Your body built for the waves, the layer of blubber giving you a softness that fascinated him to no end. Your face is extremely similar to that of both your mother and sister Tsireya, features delicate and feminine. Full cheeks, plush lips and giant green eyes.

You could pass for an Omega yourself, if it wasn't for that cocksure way that you held yourself and your distinctly Alpha scent. Potent and musky. He wants to sample it from the source, press his nose against one of your scent glands. The one in your neck. Or maybe the one in your inner thigh, right between your legs-

“Good morning” he greets good naturedly as approaches. Neutral. Like you don't send him into pre-heat every time you’re around him.

You huff a little, rolling your eyes. Expression bored. Your resting bitch face rivals your mothers. “Mhmm. You’re late, again.”

“I-uh I apologize. We can train longer into the evening, to make up for it, if you wanted to” He doesn't like making excuses, but he can't exactly tell you that he was up all-night think about how well you’d fuck him. “I didn't mean to waste your time.”

You're silent for a moment, appraising him. He catches you doing it all the time, but it never gets any less nerve wrecking.-

You’d been a lot more lenient with him lately, the months of getting to know each other softening you, but still. He probably pissed you off. He needed to get it together, you were taking the time out of your busy schedule to take care of him. He’s about to tailspin into more frantic apologies when he notices your shoulders shaking.

A smile breaks across your pretty face, fangs sharp. Coy and playful- your true nature coming to the surface.

“I'm just teasing!” you laugh, eyes rolling “Come on, Tey. We spend nearly every day together and you still can't tell when I’m playing with you?”

The worst part about Neteyam’s not so little crush?

He’s pretty sure you’re aware of it.

“Ha-ha very funny Y/N. I’m barley awake, give me a fucking break” Neteyam drawls back, as he makes a start for the small sailboat that's tied to the docs.

You’d taught him how to sail early in your training, he enjoys it. It’s all muscle memory, learned skill that he’d honed after days full of island hopping. Hunting in the shallows and the deep alike, coming back with abundant hauls for the people. He wouldn't even be allowed outside the reef without you.

“Did you eat breakfast today?” You inquire, and his hands freeze mid knot.

“Not really, but I figured I’d catch something. It’s fine-”

“Here. No wonder you forest people are so damn skinny, you never eat!” you offer him the other half of the large fruit that you’d peeled. It's a simple gesture. You do it without even thinking much of it.

“Irayo ”Neteyam is sure that he’ll think about it non-stop. He takes a big bite of the sweet fruit, if only to hide his warm cheeks for a moment.

“I thought we’d work more with the Tsurak’s today. You mastered the bond, but your riding underwater still rough” You chatter mindlessly while he desperately tries not to stare at the side of your face. At the gorgeous intertwining ink of the tattoos that swirl around your cheekbone.

He’s so fucked.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The open ocean is unforgiving. There's no cover from the blistering sun as there was in the forest, no shade to hide behind. Just the wide expanse of never ending blue.

Training with you is intense. Long hours bleed away as you mold him into perfection. Correcting his form, teaching him how to move with the crests of the waves instead of against them. Tsurak riding is different from Ikran. It's more physical, he has to use every part of his body to control the squawking beast. By the end of the long day his muscles are screaming in protest.

You call it after he hits the water at an odd angle, completely knocking the breath out of himself. He can't even protest too much, instead gasping for air to refill his tired lungs.

“That was the last one, come. We’re done for the day, let's go find somewhere to do our decompressions”

There are endless islands that dot the Eastern Seaboard of Pandora. Some large with dense flora and fauna, others small barely there things that get swept away with the changing tides.

With your guideship the two of you make port on one of the smaller ones. On decent sized white sand beach with a tree line full of fruit trees. He's more than happy to plop down on the soft ground, watching as you secure the boat, throwing his arm over his head to block out the bright sun,

“Get your lazy ass up” you command him with a smile.

He groans in protest, not removing his arm.

“Build us a fire, maybe gather some fruit. Those are Yovo trees- I’m going to go hunt us some lunch” You continue not at all phased by his dramatics.

His head perks up at that, ears swiveling as he gives you a pointed look “I can hunt for myself, you know.”

He doesn't want you to think he’s useless, that he’s a needy Omega who needs an Alpha to feed him or else he’ll starve.

“I know” you respond simply. Easily. It wasn't even on your mind. “You can build fires faster than I can and those fruit are high in the trees. You know I’m shit at climbing.”

You’re not afraid to say it; that he's better at certain things. Your designation usually comes with a supersized ego. Alpha’s can do no wrong, or so they think.

It’s refreshing. Being around you is so different from anything he’s ever known.

“You’re right, your absolute shit. Go get us some lunch, I'll do the climbing so that you don't break your neck” He grumbles as he sits up and you pat his head fondly as you pass.

He can't help but watch as you go back to the water, spear in hand. The ever seductive swing of your hips. The way your wide tail sways. His fingers clench with their need to touch. He decides to put them to use elsewhere and starts on getting a fire going.

After training you always make sure the two of you decompress. It’s an important part of the day. At first it had been an oddity to him- that you were willing to waste anymore of your time on him. An hour or two of eating, and meditating. Working on breathing techniques and weaving Metkayina lore.

The closer the two of you had become, the more he looked forward to this part of the day. It felt sacred and he reveled in the intimacy of it all.

He debones and grills the succulent fish that you caught over the flames and you prepare the fruits, skinning them and cutting them up nice and small. It’s grossly domestic. He wonders if this is what life would be like with you in your Mauri. Every hour of everyday a little piece of bliss just like this.

He forces those feelings away. Or at least tries to.

The late lunch you share is delicious and Neteyam feels heavy and sated after it. You let him laze like a cat while he digests.

“Neteyam!” you suck your teeth, disapprovingly as you look over him.

“Hmm?” His yellow eyes search yours, following your line of sight. The side of his body is covered in tiny bleeding little cuts, rubbed raw and more annoying than painful. He’d had far worse. “Oh that? It’s fine, I hit the coral a couple times when I fell off Xtrala. No big deal”

The female Tsurak he’d bonded with had a bit of a wind streak. He didn’t mind, he enjoyed the challenge.

You flash your canines at him as you hiss in displeasure, reaching for your satchel. “No big deal, huh? Most of the coral out here is poisonous, you idiot. Do you not listen to a single thing I say?”

You rummage around in the bag, pulling out a jar of thick pale yellow paste. Your mother's creation, he assumes.

“They barely even sting” he insists, trying to keep the cool, calm and collected front going. You ignore him of course and dip your fingers in the mixture.

“If we don't get this on them they’ll get infected. Then my parents will give me flack for letting you get such a stupid injury” you gesture for him to come closer, to scootch right into your personal space “Come here”

Isn't it pathetic how fast he does?

Instantly maneuvering his body right to yours the moment you ask. You're sitting crisscrossed, and he falls in until his shins are almost touching your own.

You tut, eyes rolling as your hands go to his shoulders, pushing him to lie down before turning him on his side, the scratches facing up and towards you as you lean in close to inspect them. Its casual dominance, man handling him in the most gentle way.

His heartbeat starts to flutter in his throat. His tail swaying eagerly behind him, completely out of his control.

You're efficient with your fingers, smearing the concoction in a thick layer over his marred skin. It's supposed to be completely medical, friendly. Platonic.

To him it's anything but.

He can't tell if the tingles erupting all over the his skin is from the numbing effect of the cream or from you being so close to him.

“Your mom teach you how to do this?” Neteyam’s voice is low, like he doesn't want to break your concentration. That cute little crease between your brows doesn't falter, your nose scrunched up as you attend to him.

He wants to be the object of your attention like this all the time. It feels so good to have you fretting over him and only him.

“Mhmm, a good Olo’eykte knows a bit of everything. Healing has always been my sister's forte, but I can do a small amount of it here and there” you hum, your voice so sweet.

He wonders if the rest of the clan knows how soft you can be. You are the daughter of the chief, the next leader yourself. You don't let your guard down like this when the two of you are back in the village. Never, all those months ago when him and his family had arrived, would he have expected to be blessed enough to be let into your inner circle. Trusted enough to see you as you truly are.

Its hypnotic, your caring eyes. The way that you dote on him. He falls under some kind of a trance, pushing his body more into your hands. Becoming putty like as you run the tips of your fingers all over-

They stray away from his side, sprawled over his ribs. Tracing the hard lines of his strong abdominals, his sternum. Exploring with firm massaging touch. Both of your breaths hitch when you run your thumb nail over his pert nipple-

“Neteyam” you whisper, desperation laced. Your gnawing on your full bottom lip and staring down at him as though he’s one of the ocean deities you loved to talk about so much.

“You were taught well. You’re making me feel so good” He encourages you, leaning even closer, his head resting against your knee, his breath fanning against your strong calf.

This position isn't new for the two of you.

It's been happening for weeks.

You find any excuse to touch him; and he finds any to let you.

You’d always been hands on during training but your touch had started lingering on his broad shoulders, skimming down his waist. Holding him just for the sake of it- claiming you were correcting his form when really you just wanted an excuse to squeeze his supple flesh in your palms. Most days he returned to the village shivery and disoriented, throbbing between his legs.

“I make you feel good?” you inquire, a smirk marring your features. You look like your little brother. A mirror of Ao’nung. Same small mole above your lip and all.

Neteyam scoffs, turning his head before he replies “I think you know exactly how you make me feel. It’s not really fair”

He can't look at you while he speaks, instead he stares at the sky. It's getting late in the day, you’ll need to head back soon if you want to make it back to the big island before the eclipse.

“Look at me, Forest boy” you call for him, and he stubbornly keeps his gaze avoided.

He’s still pressed so close that he can feel your body warmth, your small fingers have stopped dancing along his torso. Have settled on the center of his chest, tracing mindless patterns into his dark skin.

“It’s just cruel; I know it doesn't mean anything. You don't have to worry about me getting…confused or anything” he continues, “I’ve seen you flirt with everyone like this. I know I’m not special…so you should stop distracting me”

“It’s actually you who’s distracting me. How am I supposed to get anything done when you’re so gorgeous? I promise there is no one else on the Big Island that I think is even a fraction of how special you are” it's a saccharine croon and he hisses at it. Stupid Alphas and their flirty nature. It’s maddening.

“Just on the Big Island?” comes a muttered response, low under his breath.

You giggle “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely dramatic?”

He sputters, eyes finally meeting yours. Challenge burning in is golden orbs “Why do you say that? Because I’m an Omega?”

A bit of the mirth leaves you, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek. Cupping it firmly, meaningfully, before you speak.

“The only one who really cares about your designation here is you. How many times have I told you that it doesn't matter to me?”

He chews it over. Your words are sincere, or at least he thinks they are. But the long decades of fighting against his inner nature won't be broken down in a matter of what? A few months with a pretty Alpha who spins pretty words?

Your tumb runs along the delicate skin under his eye before you pull away with a sigh. He chases your touch, just a little. Upset with himself and his treacherous mouth that had made you pull away.

“I know that the Omiticaya are more traditional- and I respect that. Really. But here being an Omega does not mean anything less. You are no less a warrior.No less clans member, No less a man. My father is the greatest Olo’eyktan we Metkayina have ever seen, no one undermines him just because he is Omegan. He is beloved by all” There's a fire that burns inside of you, a constant simmer. It reflects in your eyes when you speak of things your passionate about.

Your favorite hunting spear passed down from your Grandmother. Your family. Your Tulkun spirit sister that he’s yet to meet.

And him.

That passion burns bright when you talk about him.

“If anyone disrespects you, I'll slit their throats, Neteyam. You know I would” You whisper conspiratorially. The cherry on top of it all.

Is it horrible that it’s that statement that turns him on the most?

Maybe because he believes it. You’d take care of him, wouldn't you? Isn't that what you’d been trying to do since he and his family arrived?

That day you’d tackled that knothead in the middle of the village, demanding that he treat the Sullys with decency. The timbre of your screams as you berated your baby brother for leaving Lo’ak beyond the reef. Your encouraging nature, the cheers you give him and his siblings when they accomplish any small Metkayinan lesson

“Let’s not get hasty and commit murder” Neteyam starts, scared shitless. Because if you’re yanking his chain, it will hurt something fierce. He wants to let you in, if just a little “I’m still getting used to the fact that I don't have to fight so hard for respect here. I get really in my head about it sometimes,”

“No shit”

“Hey. I'm trying to thank you. For giving me some perspective”

“Hmm. Try harder, Forest boy”

Theres a moment of stillness before Neteyam reaches out slowly and grabs your hand, the one that had retreated, and places it back on his skin. Your warm palm against the smooth planes of his pec once more feels so nice.

He’s not good with his words, they get jumbled. Always had. He’d get nervous and anything he’d meant to say would come out odd and skewed. He hadn't had many real friends back in the jungle for this very reason. His awkwardness could easily be mistaken for standoffishness.

He hopes his body language is better.

You resume your exploration as though he’d never stopped you. Your fingers assaulting him once more. Slow this time. Savoring it, as though you’re scared, he’ll push you away once more- even though it’s quite the opposite really. He wants your touch back on his nipple, the nub still hard and pulsing for attention. Or maybe you’ll be bold, as usual, and trail lower…

Your fingers grasp at his jaw instead, holding his head still and at just the right angle before you lean down, so close the flat of your nose runs against his own. He prepares for your kiss, his eyes sliding closed and his lips pursing in obvious offering. He cant help but hold his breath-

The kisses he’d had in the past were messy and inexperienced, hurried and left him feeling jipped and confused.

Your mouth presses to his, moist and plush. The kiss is slow, your lips brushing his in soft little bursts, sending jolts of electricity down his spine, the possessive grip you have on his jaw unwavering. When your tongue swipes at his upper lip at the same time that you tighten your grip- his little sighs are something he can’t control. You taste good as you dominate his mouth, unhurried as you steal the air from his lungs.

Giving him just a moment to catch his breath, to push you away if he pleased, you lick at his semi chapped bottom lip, before going back in for more.

The two of you get lost in each other.

His well-built arms twine around your neck, pulling you closer, tugging you down on top of him. All that warm sun baked teal skin on his feels so nice, he hums little sounds of appreciation in between the wet smacks. Your hands aren't still for more than a few seconds at a time, they’re everywhere. Too much uncharted territory to map out. Leaving hot scorching trails all over his body. Greedy, like you can't get enough of the muscle and sinew under your fingers. When you reach for the leather straps of his tweng, he gasps, but raises his hips anyway. Fully intending on helping you get it off of him-

The com, ever present around his neck, crackles to staticky life.

“Devil Dog to Pathfinder, you read me? Over.” Neteyams fathers electronic voice breaks him from his reverie, and with a heavy sigh, he pulls away.

You grunt, moving from his mouth down the hinge of his shap jaw, nipping at the hypersensitive place behind his ear-

He can barely breathe. His head’s spinning. He’s torn, knows he needs to recompose himself enough to reply to his dad and he can't do that when you’re licking at the place behind his braids- and yet he has his hands twined in your hair. Pressing you closer. His thighs falling open, letting you slip a firm leg between them-

“Pathfinder, do you read me? Over.”

“Ugh” You groan, wrenching yourself from him, and he mourns the loss of your scorching body heat instantaneously. The breeze that runs along his form once your sticky skin leaves his makes him shiver.

His chest is heaving erratically, and he wonders if he looks as out of control as he feels. Lips swollen and spit slick and golden eyes low and fluttery.

“Answer your dad” you command, voice husky and he reaches for you again. You avoid his grabby hands, backing up on your knees with a strained giggle “Answer your dad before I spread your legs and fuck you right here, Neteyam. I’m serious”

He chokes on a groan, his teeth gritting at your vulgar words. He wants it so desperately. His cock is hard under his loincloth, he can feel it poking out from his slit. It would be so easy for you to pull it out and sit on it. His eyes slam closed, no longer able to even look at you if he has any chance of calming down.

Rotting flesh. Blown ear drums from explosions. His grandma.

He thinks of unpleasant things to get his erection to go down and wills all of his blood to stop rushing south . Musters all of the composure he can before he presses his fingers to the device on his throat and replies. “Pathfinder to Devil Dog. I read you. What do you need? Over”

“Your mom wants you to come home, she spotted a small herd of Yerik on her flight. We’re hunting tonight. Over”

Fucking hell. It’s not fair.

“On my way. Over” Neteyam wants to stay on this secluded little island with you forever. Wants to throw his com into the ocean. Instead he assures his family that he’ll be home soon.

“See ya soon, son. You sound winded. Make sure to stay hydrated. Over”

Your laughter is chiming at that last bit and Neteyam cant help but crack a smile of his own.

When he can breathe semi normally and take in his surroundings, he realizes just how much time had passed. The sky is starting to streak with darkness, the sea choppier as the nightly tide starts to roll in.

“Come on, Pathfinder. I better get you home” You taunt as you start to stand and Neteyam knows his face falls, the frown that pulls on his lips deep. He can't believe that he finally got to kiss you- and that somehow, as usual, his family stood in the way. He’d been cockblocked by his dad for fucks sake.

“I’ll never understand that blasted tawtute(human, derogatory) sorcery” You grumble, eyeing his neck suspiciously and Neteyam reaches up to run his fingers along the choker like com.

“It’s not socery, Y/N. its tech. It comes in handy…sometimes ”Not now, not when he’d finally had your tongue down his throat and your body on top of his.

“Hmm. If you say so. Let’s head out, I’d hate to face the wrath of Toruk Makto” you reach out your dainty hand, helping pull him up with a smile. Your body is small but compact, far stronger than it appears. You pull him up with ease before fretting over his skewed braids.

He tries not to preen under the attention. It feels so innocent after the way that you had been touching him just moments ago-

“Ugh. Y/N. What are you-?” He hisses as you reach between his thighs and grab his flagging bulge firmly. He’s still hot and pulsing there and the surprise pang of pleasure is almost painful.

“This is mine, huh? All because of me?” you look up at him with that smirk of yours. He can only nod, not trusting his voice. Shocked at the blatant claim that you’re lying on him.

You massage the tweng covered flesh between his legs and Neteyam just winces, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He doesn't know if he’s going to push you away or pull you in again.

You don't say anything for a long moment, just stare into his eyes as you stroke him back to nearly full hardness before abruptly stopping. “Can I be blunt?”

He almost splutters. How much blunter can you be? You’re literally holding him by the most sensitive, secretive part of himself “Um, yes?”

“I will help you pass your Iknimaya, and then I want to court you. I can't start the courting until your rebirth from the oceans. Would that be okay with you? Because from the way you feel in my hand, I think it’s okay”

What?

Court him?

But you’re going to be the next clan leader and he’s some outsider from halfway across Pandora-

“Y/N-”

“Mmm. No. I don't want one of your lectures or for you to go into big brother mode on me. I’m simply letting you know my intentions. I’m going to shower you in gifts and knot you until you let that great big chip on your shoulders go” You promise. It’s a simple one, or at least that’s how you make it sound. He knows better. He should know better.

And yet the very idea of wearing pretty jewelry you’d crafted for him or being knotted and locked inside your tight pussy is enough to have releasing of all sense of rationality.

Neteyam can feel his ears burn and lie close to his head with embarrassment, completely flustered. “You're too much” he tries to laugh it off but that intensity about you makes his skin crawl.

“Stop pretending like you don’t enjoy it” you taunt before letting go of his hardness and bringing the warm hand up to pat at his cheek, almost condescendingly. “Get freshened up and help me cast the sails. I’ll have you back before the eclipse. I’d hate to face the wrath of Toruk Makto”

His head feels heavy and he can't quite break out of the haze you’d put him in.

He follows you like a viperwolf pup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The daze doesn't let up.

Weeks go by and his heart can barely take it.

You do exactly what you said you would; continue to prep him for his rites, you're training more vigorous than ever. His shoulders were broader than ever, leading to a tapered waist, his form agile and efficient in the water. He’d all but mastered riding

You also shower him in gifts; ones that leave his eyes wet with grateful tears. An intricately crafted armband that drips with multicolored sea glass and looks like it took ages to make. Baskets of Melon Tree fruit and beautifully weaved blankets. His favorite gift being a new spear. The weapon much sturdier and more ornate than the hand me down, borrowed one he’d been using. He’d almost not been able to accept it, he’d shook his head and gaped at it until you kissed him silly and told him he’d need it. A true symbol of being a Reef Warrior.

Jake and Neytiri watch it all with knowing eyes. The gift giving, the looks the two of you share. The way that Neteyam sneaks away late at night and doesn't return until just before morning eclipse.

“The girl is courting you, yes? Your karyu(teacher)” Neytiri asks one night, the statement seemingly appearing out of thin air. It’s just the two of them, maintenancing the Ikran. He’s not even all that surprised at her sharp tone and knowing gaze.

He thinks that’s why your frank nature doesn't alarm him the way it might do so with others. His mother is Beta, and yet her straightforwardness rivals that of any Alpha. He’d been conditioned to headstrong women since he came out of the womb.

There’s really no point in lying “She is, yeah”

“And you are accepting it?” It’s not really phased as a question. Neytiri says it as though it is a fact, her observation skills keen.

Neteyam just shrugs, the tips of his feline ears feeling hot as they twitch.

“I thought you didn’t get along with her? You spoke of her with much disdain” his mother continues. To any it sounds like an interrogation. She hopes he knows that she just wishes to understand him better.

Neteyam feels a little guilty about that. About all of the times he had told everyone who would listen that he wanted nothing to do with you. He had been so confused about his feelings for you- had lashed out in the only way he knew how.

“I was wrong about her. She has been nothing but kind to me, and our family- . I…I didn’t know how to trust anyone here. Especially not an Alpha” Neteyam focuses on his task of oiling the leather of his Ikran riding gear as he speaks “She never makes me feel less. For being Omega”

Neytiri mulls that over. Nodding. Before responding after a moment “I know that Metkayina traditions are different but please, if you are being intimate do not feel like you cannot come to me. If you are not ready for children, I can assist with contraceptive tonics-”

It is not that he is embarrassed of these talks. Na’vi are freer with their sexuality, he wasn’t adverse to discussing it with his mom. His earthly raised father might be more hesitant, but Neytiri had raised her children to be open with her about all things.

Sex is nature, and nature is Eywa. The great mother encourages love and pleasure.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Neteyam groans irately.

That was the one promise you had yet to keep- and to be perfectly honest, it was driving him fucking crazy. You hadn't slept with him. Were trying to respect his fragile Omiticayan laurels. You wouldn't take him, no matter how much he threw himself at you.

He’s way past thinking it’s sweet that you’re trying to be respectful. He hates you for teasing him half out of his mind. “If that problem arises, I will let you know. As of now, I fear she is torturing me. And claiming it’s respect”

Neytiri laughs, wheezy and hard at her poor eldest sons predicament. In the back of her mind, she notes it. A little more open to the idea of welcoming you into her close family unit. Neytiri had been huffy that you, the daughter of the Olo’eyktan, had not begged permission to court her son to which Jake reminded her that she herself seduced him under the tree of souls all those years ago- Mo’at and Eytukan’s blessings nowhere to be found.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had become almost a nightly routine; sneaking out as the moons hung heavy in the dark sky. The glittering stars the only light illuminating his path.

Neteyam has to wait until everyone in the pod’s asleep, the cacophony of snores his tell. Once he’s sure his family has settled into REM, he slinks out of the front entrance. Years of finely tubing his hunting skills make him silent and quick on his feet. It’s all too easy to nimbly navigate the village and escape, unknowingly, into the tree line beyond the mangroves.

It’s not far of a walk, but deep enough into the tropical trees that he wasn’t too worried about being followed. The forest is familiar to him, even though the trees are different than the ones from home. He should feel a sense of peace along all of the familiarity- and instead his stomach is filled with shimmyflies. The excitement bubbling up into his throat.

It didn’t matter how much you guys did this, snuck away to hide in the shadows, the promise of your hands on his body and your lips on his made him dizzy with want.

He finds you in the clearing that the two of you had dubbed your own; surrounded by the thickest shrubbery that acted like some sort of privacy hedge. The Pandoran flora and fauna made the space glow iridescent and neon purple in the dark night. The reason why the two of you spend so much time there is because of the patch of plush grass and sand. Perfect to lie in-

You’re lounged there. Waiting for him. Curvy body sprawled out on a crocheted blanked, looking beyond ethereal in the glow.

You stare at the stars as you often do. Powdery eyes distracted and far away, deep in your own thoughts. He wonders, as he regularly does, if the stress of it all gets to you. It certainly used to get to him back when he was being groomed to be heir of his clan. You handle pressure so well that he forgets that you’re under it constantly.

That won’t do.

They can have you in the sunshine, under the harsh glare your responsibilities are clear and you tend to them.

Under the moonlight you’re his.

He creeps, feline and silent, ever closer-

“-Forest boy!” You exclaim in alarm, trying to sit up futilely. “What?!-“

He’d leapt from the shadows lighting quick. Using your distraction against you, before you even realized he was close he was already on top of you. Pinning you to the ground. His big hands around your finned wrists.

He giggles silently, amused and smug as he sits atop your legs. “Who’s the mighty warrior, hmm?”

The snarl you give him is reactionary. Your body arches under him, iris’s gleaming dangerously. You’re all Alpha. All apex predator, hardwired to fight anyone and anything that threatened your need to be in control-

And yet you relax a moment later. Sagging underneath him.

Neteyam’s core tingles, his tail flicking behind him, exhilarated at the obvious submission.

You stare up at him, arms pinned above your head, thighs spread and as he sits between them and he tries to imprint the sight somewhere deep. You’re so gorgeous, hair in flowing dark waves around your behind your shoulders and lips parted, a pink tongue running over them repeatedly.

“Say it” it’s supposed to be a demand, but instead it falls from him in a plea.

You smirk, your features going sharp and mean and he presses down on your wrists. Leaning further down.

“Say it” it’s a hiss, his nose against yours. Spit landing on your face.

There’s a tense moment- the forest quiet and atmosphere heavy. You’re a predator but so is he. One of a different kind. Underestimated- but no less deadly.

You acknowledge that in him. See it. Stroke that vicious creature in his chest the way that no one else ever had.

“You’re my mighty warrior, Sayrip(handsome). The mightiest I’ve ever come across” you reassure, about rubbing affectionately against his own. “I have the bruises from earlier to prove it”

Neteyam’s grin is shit eating. The cat that caught the canary. You always tell him exactly what he needs to hear. He’d known that he had done well earlier in group training with the other warriors, but it’s nice to hear you say it.

Lately he’s found that yours is the only opinion that he cares about.

“Sorry ‘bout that” he speaks right into your mouth, lips grazing your own.

“I’m sure” you snort- but before you can make any other retorts he closes that barely there distance. Slotting in between your legs perfectly and leaning his weight down on to you.

Kissing you feels like soaring. Like he’s flying amongst the Hallelujah Mountains.

It’s slow at first, like it always is. Both of you just want to taste and savor- but then the hunger sets in. He’s eager with his tongue, wants to taste the sweet cavern of your mouth. Once you let him in he’s sighing, keening as he sucks on your tongue, licks at your sharp teeth.

You’re truly starting to struggle. Wiggling underneath him, hands straining against his hold.

“Tey” you grunt as you pull away. He tries to recapture your lips but you turn away from him- instead he presses his face into your throat.

Your scent is concentrated there, pheromones free flowing from your scent gland with every beat of your heart.

It’s the salty sea. And jungle flowers. The herby musk of the beans that make his favorite tea. You smell like cozy nights when it’s raining and the sky is full of electricity. Both comfort and unchained freedom in one.

He moans and runs his wet tongue along your skin, licking the gland needily. It explodes on his tastebuds.

The loud, shocked squawk, unlady like and certainly unAlpha like.

And then you’re breaking his hold,so fucking strong. He doesn’t put up a fight and lets you go. Welcomes the feeling of your hands on his body like they’re supposed to be.

You paw at his broad back, appreciative of the tensing muscles there, all the while he’s suckling at your neck. Your pheromones are addicting as he swallows them down. Breathes them in and fills his lungs with them- drowning in you.

He wants to roll in your scent. To bathe in it. To wake up with it every morning surrounding him and isn’t that a revaluation all in it’s own.

He chokes as your small fingers begin to massage the base of his tail, rubbing on smooth little circles at the bottom of his spine. It sends tingles all the way up his spine, strumming against every vertebra- making his kuru ache.

It’s good enough to make his eyes cross, his slim hips thrusting roughly, bumping his covered cock into the warmth between your thick thighs. Ones he starts, he can’t atop. It feels too good, stimulating himself roughly with your own body while you play with his over sensitive tail.

“Hey. Slow down-“ you start, your touch leaving him and voice hesitant.

No.

Not tonight.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He was pretty fucking sure at this point that you were this close to triggering his heat- months early. He was in a constant state of arousal, his crotch aching on and off throughout the day.

You were going to help him. Do something about what you’d caused. You had to.

He keeps thrusting, short little bursts, into your tweng covered cunt. He’d rather it be bare, rather be inside of you, but he’ll take what he can get. You’re hit and humid at the apex of your body, he can feel it between the layers of clothing.

“Neteyam-” that snarl in your tone coming back. And it’s not teasing anymore. It’s warning.

Your strong legs come around his waist, your calves trying to lock him in place. Take control of the situation.

He just nuzzles his face deeper into your shoulder, his knees digging into the earth as he grounded himself- giving himself the leverage to keep fucking between your thighs as hard as he possibly could.

He’d always hated begging. Was so far above it. Back home he’d been royalty- had spent his life wanting for nothing. And even so, even here where is status was low standing he would rather die then grovel. His pride was too great.

“Please Y/N” he whispers and once he starts, he can’t stop “please, please, please”

Your legs loosen from their hold and he thinks you might take pity on him. Might let him get what he needed.

Of course things can never be easy with you.

One moment he’s sloppily chasing his high, the next there’s vertigo, the confused feeling of being moved without his permission- before he lands on his back with a huff.

You’d managed to roll the two of you over, and you sit on top of him. Your thick thighs a cage around his middle. You gaze down at him with a look that’s filled with concern, wearing a frustrated frown frown

He groans, slamming his head back into the grass. Hopelessly.

“What the fuck was that?” You inquire sharply. When he doesn’t look at you grab his face, his lips purse as you squeeze his cheeks.

“Maybe I’m sick of being teased” he sounds like a petulant child. His smushed cheeks make it all the worse.

You sigh and release his face and he doesn’t know what to do. How to get you to take him. You want him- he can tell- so why are you torturing you both?

His hands go to your thighs, squeezing. It’s all pillowy flesh and hard muscle underneath. He wants them to smother him. He distracts him self by digging his fingers into them, watching them jiggle as he releases.

“I’m not meaning to tease you. Come on, you know that”

“So working me up until I feel like I’m dying every night isn’t teasing?” He scoffs “yeah, whatever”

“I’m trying to take it slow. Be respectful”

He doesn’t want to be respected, not like this. Not by you. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do we have to go so slow? Is this how you’ve been with all your partners?” He spits that last bit. Defensive and jealous over thinking about you with anyone else… “Or is it because I’m a virgin?”

You look a little dumb. Sitting on top of him with that half-baked expression. Like you’re trying to figure out what it is you want to say. “Well yeah. Obviously”

A flash of anger surges through him. He doesn’t need an Alpha trying to control his decisions. He's not some saint-like virgin who doesn’t want to be touched. He’s just someone who’d managed to go into adulthood without being fucked.

He maneuvers you off of him.

“I don’t get what I’m doing wrong” you’re woeful as you sit next to him in the grass.

“Do you want to know why I haven’t slept with anybody?” He starts. This conversation is going to be embarrassing for him. He doesn’t want to have it, but feels it’s necessary. You’re an asshole for making this necessary.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to” you’re trying to be reassuring and calm but can smell your confused, semi hysterical hormones. There’s an Omega in distress and all you want to do is help.

You could sort all of this out by knotting him until he didn’t know his own name anymore, but alas.

“It’s not because I’m some pious freak. Yeah, the Omiticaya are more traditional but they don’t shun clans members that have pre-bonded sex, Y/N” he’s not happy as he speaks. You can tell by the way he wrings his hands, by the way his ears sit close to his braids “I’ve always had a lot going on. With my family. Even when I was younger I was always running after one of my siblings…and then the Sky People came back. It was- chaos. I barely had a moment to think, much less find anyone to mate with. And back home people only wanted to be around me because I was Olo’eyktan in training. Toruk Makto’s only Omega son”

He’s never seen you so quiet. You’re usually the loudest person in the room. Filling up any and all space with your musical voice and chiming laughter.

You give him the space to say what he needs to.

“I don’t trust easily. I knew what people wanted me for. No one cared about getting to know me, not really…and I’m not good at talking to people anyway. Ah” he’s frustrated. Tongue tying into knots as he tries to articulate the thoughts in his head.

How does he tell you that he’d been so introverted that he hadn’t had his first kiss until just after his 17th birthday?

That war had consumed his every minute and he hadn’t really been all that concerned about losing his virginity. Not until he met you.

Your hand slips into his lap, fingers interlacing with his as you wait for him to finish.

“You think that I’m a virgin because I wanted to be. I’m not. I just didn’t trust anyone enough to be with them that way” as he finishes his long-winded rant, something hangs in the air.

Something unsaid.

He didn’t trust anyone before.

But he trusted you.

You squeeze his hand tight and bring it to your lips. Kissing the top of it over and over.

“I don’t want to fuck this up. I want to do right by you” you admit. It sounds as vulnerable as he feels.

“Then stop trying to control this. Just be with me”

A lot of decisions in his life were taken from him, ripped away while he watched and mutely grieved. He wanted you, as close to him as possible. That was his, his desire. His prerogative. His choice.

You tug on his hand, bringing him back close, and hold him as you kiss him. Your tongue soothing, making him sigh. He’s so easy for this. For you.

Your bodies seem to fit together without thought, you roll atop of him and settling between his strong svelte legs happens seamlessly. Your lips never disconnect.

When you pull away, leaving him slick lipped and panting, he’s ready to admit defeat.

Instead, you hold his honeyed gaze as you reach behind yourself. Fiddling with the ties of your top until it falls off, your chest bare and on display.

Your breasts are pretty, full and topped with hard little nipples. He yearns to rub his cheek to your skin and can feel his erection stirring again.

“I can’t have sex with you yet- and that isn’t about you. It’s about me” you start as you slowly reach for the carob colored leather of his tweng. Giving him ample time to push you away if he pleases “You are not yet recognized as a fully fledged member of the clan. Soon, my sweet. But not yet”

He shivers as your fingertips trace his sensitive hips, tugging on the knots “W-what?”

“Just because I can’t fuck you doesn’t mean that I can’t make you feel good. I’m sorry for teasing , I won’t do that to you anymore” you coo apologetically, nimbly loosening his cloth until its pooling under him “Is this okay with you?”

Neteyam can only nod. Too nervous speak, not wanting to spoil this moment.

You tug the garment down his long legs and he fights the instant urge to close them, to shield himself. Instead, he takes a deep shaky breath, trying to ignore the heat flaming across his face.

“Shh” you smile, cupping his jaw and kissing him “It’s only me and you here, and I want to make it up to you”

And make it up you do.

Neteyam didn't think that anything could feel better then kissing you, then your lips on his, then you consuming his mouth. But as the kiss grows voracious, your hand slips down his body. Over the hard lines of muscle- and in between his spread legs.

“Oh” he hisses at the foreign feeling of you touching him where only his own fingers had been. His slit is swollen and puffy, his cock already peeking out. Tender and hypersensitive as you coax it all the way out from inside his body. “Oh, that feels. Ah-”

Male Omega’s have different anatomy and it’d never been anything he thought twice about. Just what he was born with, but as you work him over with your fingers, he thanks Eywa for all that he’d blessed him with. His long, hard cock. The way that you pump it slowly, paying special attention to the mushroom tip feels so nice. The slick that leaks all around, making his gash and puffy lips slippery and smooth. There’s so much stimulation.

He’s gasping wildly within minutes, clutching at desperately at the ground.

It's all so new. All so much better than he thought it would be.

When your head starts to follow that same path down his body, tongue dragging over his nipples. His ‘X’ shaped sternum. His concaving stomach and belly button- he can't bare it. Can't watch as you take the tip in your sinful mouth.

It doesn't matter how much he shrieks and writhes, you don't stop. The crude sloppy sounds of you choking yourself on his wet member echo around the trees, only interrupted by his wheezes. It’s not sweet or kind, the pleasure you give him is almost violent. It’s shameful, but he doesn't last very long at all, how could he? He’d wanted this so badly, and his untouched body had been on the brink of orgasm ever since you’d kissed him all those weeks ago back at the beach.

When your tricky fingers run over the tight ring of his hole he whites out.

His body goes tight as his orgasm washes over him in mind numbing waves. Your mouth fills with his cum. He grabs your hair firmly in both fists, holding your face still. Fucking your throat as he empties his entire being into you.

This feeling is transcending. He was a changed man, never to be the same. Floating somewhere above his body there's only one thing he can think of.

That he wants.

His turn to taste you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Okay so I literally have so much more of this written but handle but this first part already is 1100 words long. I had to cut it there. Fear not, I’m hella inspired and am planning to not only update but get this little three parter done in the next week or so!

Okay, I thought I’d give you some background on the A/B/O aspect of this story. Secondary gender is something that all Na’vi have- and although Male Omega’s and Female Alpha’s aren't as common, they’re far from rare.

Male Omega’s have an anatomy that looks similar to this. I’ve been obsessed with this artwork since I saw it. Alien biology is too fun not to play with. In my head they can both fuck and be fucked

A Female Alphas knot is actually internal and is able to lock down and keep things inside.

Still plotting and feeling this world and its rules out! Let me know what you guys think and any ideas you have. You know I love to brainstorm.

A List of the Avatar Characters and the Secondary Genders(in this story)

Jake- Avatars don't have secondary genders.

Neytiri- Beta

Lo’ak- Beta

Kiri-Beta

Tuk-Alpha

Tonowari-Omega

Ronal- Alpha

Tsireya- Alpha(shes actually my fave Alpha tbh!)

Ao’nung- Beta

Gonna take a moment right at the end here to talk about some of my favorite authors and creators that inspire me to not only hone my craft, but continue post on here at all! Give them a read if you need something beyond good to tide you over until the next chapter.

@tiredmamaissy is the literal blueprint for Na'vi ABO.

@hinataashoyos writes the best damn porn with plot in this fandom

@justasimps-blog literally writes my FAVORITE near canon version of the Avatar characters

@cinetrix YOUR AI ART INSPIRED ALL OF THIS. Got me frothing at the mouth and shit. Also her Ao'nung story has a great Dom! Female in it.

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #aged up neteyam #neteyam x reader #omega neteyam x female alpha reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #minors do not interact #bottom neteyam

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short-honey-badger · 3 months

Text

Peppermint Tea 28 - Lavender 9

Thank you to the lovely @headcaasefiction for helping me out!

So. This will probably be my last chapter for a hot minute. I've not been able to work on my stuff how I like to lately. So I have unfortunately fallen behind, and I would really love to do my best with the last half of Peppermint Tea. However, I have made this pretty long as an apology. ❤️❤️

Its been a wild ride so far! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Not many? Pregnancy stuff is mentioned. We finally get a couple of confessions, but that doesn't mean it turns out good. Angst happens.

Masterlist

You watch in awe, eyes large and sparkling in fascination as your brother parries his opponent, knocking their arm away with a swat of his hand. His body turned to dust and dropped low to avoid the blow to the chest that would have surely happened. He comes back up with a vicious swing, his knuckles smashing into the other boy's jaw and busting their lips. Blood drips down their chin as they wheel back, lips pulling back to show white teeth stained red.

Your brother goes back in, sending another two blows to the boy who had shoved you to the ground and called you some mean name that you can't even remember now. He is red in the face, his white hair a mess, and rage glowing in his green eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister,” your brother snarls in the redhead’s face and shoves him away for good measure, “Get the hell outta here, Jax.”

The redhead sneers and spits at the prince. He turns and limps down the alleyway, a sneer on his face, “This ain't over, Princess.”

Your brother rolls his eyes and then dusts himself off as he turns back to his little sister, lips twisting into a smirk, “You okay, Sunshine?”

You grin and fling yourself into your brother's arms, “I'm fine! Not even a scratch. Can you teach me how to fight like that?”

Your brother laughs, green eyes alight with mirth, “Sure. When you're old enough not to need an afternoon nap.”

You pout, thumping him on the chest, “Ugh. You say that every time.”

“Sunshine. You'll be asleep before we even get back home,” He points out and scoops you up, over his shoulder, grinning when you let out a delighted laugh. You argue that you most definitely won't fall asleep, and to his surprise, you don't. Your brother carts you all the way to your bedroom where he plops you on the bed. You bounce with a giggle and then attack him, jabbing at his ribs and armpits with a grin.

It lasts until he gets the upper hand and tickles his baby sister until you're red in the face and gasping for oxygen, begging for uncle. He pulls you in a headlock, kissing the top of your head with fondness.

“You know I'll always protect you, right?”

You nod, turning around to hug your brother as tightly as you can, “Of course I do! You're my big brother, Tomura!”

The scene changes suddenly, and you can hear the sounds of screams and vile laughter echoing all around you. Watching your home burn has become a familiar sight, but it still leaves you shaking in fear. Tomura runs as fast as he can, legs nothing but a literal cloud of dust as he skids around corners and runs down alleyways to get to the docks.

Another turn, and you know what's coming up. Tomura begs you not to look, but your eyes land on the tall figure anyway, wide-brimmed hat and white feather filling your vision until the next alleyway breaks your line of sight.

Tomura drops you to the deck, and you scramble up to help him pull the rigging and open the sails. Snow falls all around you, but your brother is there to help when you need it, and soon, the two of you are out in the open sea. Everything is okay for a while, and then the side of your boat exploding into splinters has you screaming in fear. Another shot is missed, sending freezing sea water over you and Tomura. The saltwater feels paralyzing, the devil fruit snarling at having been drenched.

The ship on the port side suddenly implodes, wood scattering everywhere and sending the Big Mom pirates to water graves. The same thing happens to the two ships on your starboard, and you look out into the raging seas and finally catch sight of that big white feather that blows in the winds before it disappears behind the rising waves.

-----

You jerk awake with a gasp, eyes wide and chest heaving. You can still hear the boy's name ringing in your head. Tomura Tomura Tomura. That was your brother's name. How could you have ever forgotten his name? Someone so near and dear to your heart. The one who had saved you from the destruction of your home. Why are you remembering now when you've been having these dreams for over a year? Why can you still recall his name? What he looks like.

You are so in your head, thoughts racing as you try and fail to pull up any memories of your past, that you don't notice the two men looking at you in concern. You have sat up, hand over your mouth and eyes wide like you've just seen a ghost. Shanks and Mihawk share a look of concern, and then the redhead carefully reaches out to touch your shoulder.

“You okay, Angel?” He asks, and the sudden touch and noise have you jumping out of your skin.

You whip around, turning to sit on your knees on the bed and look at your boys. They look worried, and you can't blame them. You probably look crazy, but it feels like a puzzle piece has finally clicked into place, and you can't just keep it to yourself.

“I have a brother. I-I think his name is Tomura. He's got white hair and green eyes, and he's the one who brought me here.”

This is definitely not what either man had expected you to say. Shanks looks a little confused but accepting, but Mihawk looks pale, yellow eyes wide with a hint of panic behind them before he expertly schools his features. The redhead glances over at the warlord and quickly switches to damage control. This wasn't the time for that talk.

“Do you remember anything else, Sweetheart?” He asks and smooths his hand up and into your hair. The name Tomura sounds familiar, but he doesn't think he's ever seen the man you are speaking about. To you, your brother would still be nothing but a boy in your memories. He glances at Mihawk, relieved to see that the panic has disappeared, and he looks like his unimpressed self.

“He was older than me, a teenager. He'd be a man now if he's still alive,” you murmur, carefully putting the pieces together. Why can't you remember more? Did something happen to you? Thinking about that makes you feel uneasy, and you curl an arm around your belly protectively.

While you go back and forth with Shanks, telling the redhead of the other dreams you've been having, Mihawk is quietly spiraling. This is his worst nightmare. If you started to remember your past, then he feared that you would remember him, too. Dracule knows that you saw him that night. He'd seen you too, tossed over your brother's shoulder as he ran away, and then again on the ship that took you away from your home. You would want nothing to do with him if you ever found out that Dracule was responsible.

Even though you've only been a part of his life for such a short time, Mihawk couldn't imagine losing you. To give up the content happiness that he's finally achieved by being here with you. Not to mention the wonderful gift you have given to him and Shanks. You have become his everything, his reasons for continuing his sham of a career as a warlord. All of it is used to keep you safe from harm.

Mihawk knows your brother, has seen him in passing, and seen him in action. The younger man is vicious and would not hesitate to attack Mihawk if he knew that the warlord had connections to his sister. It was only the knowledge of Mihawk driving the other ships away that night that kept the tension from snapping between the two men when they were in the same room together. Thankfully, it isn't that often.

However, none of that has happened, and if he were lucky, Mihawk would never have to deal with it being a problem. He forces himself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. He needs to focus and get over himself. Everything would be fine.

“I um. I saw you again, too, Mihawk.”

Okay. Maybe everything wouldn't be okay.

Dracule licks his lips, glad that he isn't facing his angel right now or else she would see the guilt that painted his face. The warlord schools his face once more and then swings his legs off the bed, stomach churning as he turns and gives you a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Still dreaming about me, are you?” Mihawk teases, and thankfully, you don't see anything remiss about his expression.

You huff and roll your eyes at the warlord, put out at being dismissed on the subject, “At least a couple times a week.”

Shanks gives him a look, and Dracule glares right back over your head at the redhead. The other man just sighs and shakes his head in disappointment, annoyed that Mihawk wouldn't just come clean and put all of this behind them.

Dracule shifts back on the bed, long arms curling around your legs as he rests his face against your plush thighs. He kisses each one gently and then leans up to press his lips to your swollen tummy, and you can't help the snort that leaves you at the ticklish sensation.

The warlord tugs you in for a kiss, aiming to make you forget about this topic, “I've told you before to not worry about these dreams, Darling.”

You shrug at him, expression a bit helpless in the face of his clear dismissal. Usually, you would be content to let the matter slide, but this dream irks you, and you need to get to the bottom of this.

“I know you have,” you grumble and let yourself be pulled into Shanks’ embrace, turning your head to nudge into his shoulder. The redhead runs almost as hot as Mihawk, and you bask in it. His hand finds your own and gives it an encouraging squeeze, “But I can't let this one go. I've never been able to remember anything more than watching an island burn and you, Mihawk.”

The warlord tenses, and Shanks can see the way his back tightens up like a bowstring. He tugs you closer to his chest, not willing to let you see the unease that surrounds the other man. You go willingly, frown lingering on your lips as you lose yourself back in your head, going over your dreams and trying to pick out anything else that might stick out at you.

Dracule stands, turning to drop a quick kiss on your brow and Shanks’ cheek, “I’ll go start breakfast. You need your energy.”

Mihawk tosses on a robe and escapes from the bedroom.

You watch him go, concerned at the way he had retreated, and Shanks sighs heavily under you, eyes shut as he shakes his head at the other man's ridiculousness right now.

“Is he okay?” You ask quietly, and Shanks hates the way you sound so hesitant, so unsure of yourself. You speak up again before the pirate can assure you that Mihawk is fine.

“He's always been like this when I mention my dreams, and it hurts when he just casts them away. What if I'm right, and all this crap in my brain are memories?”

Shanks isn't sure what to tell you. He isn't the one that you should be discussing this with, but Mihawk obviously wasn't going to be the one to come clean. How can Shanks tell you that your hunch is right without giving away Dracule’s involvement? This was the other man's mess to fix, but Shanks felt guilty just by association.

“Sometimes Mihawk thinks he knows what's best for us, even if he doesn't go about it the right way,” Shanks murmurs and kisses the top of your head, trying to assure his lover, “Want me to go talk to him?”

You debate the offer. It makes you feel weird to have Shanks be the one to mitigate the tension that rolls between you and Mihawk. But you're tired of watching the other man push you away any time that you mention your dreams to him. They have to mean something, and whatever it is- it's important to you, and you have to find out why. You could have a brother out there, someone who knew who you were. Why would Hawkeye dismiss it?

You sigh and finally nod, “Yeah okay. Maybe that's not a bad idea.”

Shanks hums, rolling the two of you and looming over you. He leans in and kisses you silly, tongue slipping past your lips to gently curl with your own slick muscle. The kiss makes you relax, and you sink back into the bed with a soft sigh. He smiles down at you, leaning in to rub his nose along your own.

“I've got you, Sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together. Okay?”

You nod gratefully, a sweet smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

The Emperor bestows one last kiss and then shuffles out of the bed. He tugged on his pants from yesterday and watched as Sukuna took his spot, curling up close to his human and glaring at the redhead as if Shanks had been the one to upset you. He glares right back at the demon cat and then lopes out of the bedroom, Hank jumping up from the floor and following after him.

He finds Mihawk in the kitchen, hovering over the stove and fixing up a hearty breakfast for the three of them. The kettle has been filled, and Shanks spots three mugs on the counter, each filled with their preferred blend. He is quiet as he steps close to Mihawk, pressing his front to the other man's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“You're being an asshole, ya know,” the redhead points out, tone not unkind, but Shanks is tired of stepping on eggshells about this with the other man.

Mihawk puffs up like a bird, yellow eyes going wide as he stills, “I am not being an asshole. I'm doing my best to protect her.”

Shanks hums. It's a disbelieving sound, and it causes Dracule's hackles to rise, irritation flaring up like an old wound. What would the Emperor know anyway? He hadn't been there that night. Mihawk had slaughtered your people, painted Yoru red with their blood, and had done so out of pure boredom. He didn't think that saving you and your brother absolved him of his sins.

“You could at least tell her that her brother is alive,” Shanks points out, but Mihawk is shaking his head, his frown even more prominent.

“No, then she'd know of my involvement, and I can't risk that.” He denies it and goes back to furiously scrambling the eggs that pop and sizzle in the pan. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. He'd much rather just forget about all of this and go back to having a nice, peaceful morning.

“I think you're being an idiot,” Shanks says, tone disappointed and despondent, “She's been nothing but kind and accepting to us. She's pregnant with our child, don't you think she deserves to know everything?”

Dracule tenses the more Shanks goes on, and inside, the warlord knows that the other man is right. It isn't fair to you, but just the thought of admitting his deeds makes him clam up, fear curdling his stomach.

“You know she loves you, right? Told me that before the three of us got together, she was worried I was trying to take her away from you.”

“Stop lying,” Mihawk hisses and grips the counter, brows pulled together in an awful scowl. He doesn't want to hear anymore. How could you love someone so monstrous and selfish like him?

“I'm not lying. She loves you. Just like I never stopped loving you, Mihawk,” Shanks murmurs and pushes past the grief and anger that he can feel surrounding the other man. He presses his brow to Dracule's tense back, willing the warlord to open his ears and listen to him.

“Stop being afraid to love us back.”

“I'm not afraid,” Dracule sounds wrecked, and Shanks curls his arm around that slim waist, tugging him closer to his chest and holding the older man close.

“Then come clean, Baby. Tell her what happened, and let her hear your piece.” Shanks urges softly and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, “You can't keep it inside forever.”

Mihawk is quiet for a long time. Could he do this? Could he open up to you about everything, even with the risk of you tossing him out into the ocean? Dracule thinks of the pained look that he'd caught when he'd dismissed your memories and finds that the guilt is near suffocating. Shanks was right. It wasn't fair to any of them.

“After breakfast, I'll tell her.” Mihawk decides quietly. He doesn't want to, and it terrifies him to think what your reaction will be, but it must happen. Dracule was tired of hiding.

Shanks hugs his treasure close and promises him the same thing that he promised you not very long ago, “We'll figure this out together, yeah?”

Dracule gives a jerky nod, and then the two focus on getting breakfast finished. Shanks sneaks Hank some eggs, and the big lug happily scarfs them down. Mihawk sets the table, busying himself while Shanks disappears to escort you to the kitchen.

He finds you curled up still, Sukuna draped over you like a big, fluffy shield. He goes to the side of the bed and cards his hand through your hair, “You up for breakfast, sweetheart?”

Your pregnancy has been more of a struggle than anything. You hated how emotional you’ve become, getting upset over tiny things that you would otherwise ignore. You couldn’t eat certain things, and you had cried the last time the scent of your favorite tea had made you nauseous. You felt needy, and that made you feel even worse, even though Shanks and Mihawk both have assured you more than a few times that it was fine.

The men actually enjoyed how clingy you've become, eagerly awaiting your beck and call, whether it be running you a hot bath or massaging your sore ankles. Mihawk, in particular, turned out to be a mother hen, coming around more often and staying close to your side. He found books on the birthing process and what to expect after and made it a point to read them out loud when Shanks was able to come around. The other man would grimace and bury his face in the closest soft surface.

“I guess,” you murmur and push yourself up. Sukuna meows in protest, golden eyes narrowing on Shanks for being the one to disturb his nap. You dig your fingers into his thick coat and scratch the ornery beast, and your cat rewards you with thunderous purs. They make you crack and smile, and then you scoot off the bed, grabbing your fluffy robe and tossing it on.

Shanks follows you back to the kitchen where Mihawk has finished setting the table. The warlord comes to your side the moment he sees you, long fingers framing your face as he leans in and kisses you softly. You are surprised enough to kiss him back, but it only lasts half a second before he is pulling away, though he doesn't go far.

“Forgive me, Darling. I shouldn't treat you that way. Especially when it is something so dear to you.”

Mihawk's apology has you melting in his hold, tears well up, and slides down your cheeks. He wipes them away, unphased by the sudden appearance of them.

You sniff and give Dracule a watery smile, “Thank you for apologizing.”

Your rough voice makes his heart break, and Mihaek has a foreboding feeling that he'll be begging for your forgiveness again sooner rather than later. He doesn't want to upset you even more than you are now, but Mihawk had promised Shanks.

“Come, Angel. Let's have breakfast, then I think you and I should talk.”

You frown at the words, but nod, not in the mood to argue with the older man right now. Shanks presses a kiss to the back of your head and then takes his seat, patting his lap with a grin. Mihawk scoffs quietly but steers you in the Emperor’s direction, and you end up seated on the redhead’s lap. You cautiously pull your tea forward and relax when the scent of spearmint reaches your nose.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, though both men are attentive as usual and make sure that you have eaten your fill before they begin to clean up. You pout at being sent to the living room and remind the men that you aren't completely useless. Shanks relents first and reluctantly lets you take over drying the dishes while he goes outside to feed Neal and the three chickens.

Afterward, the three of you retreat to the living room. Your nerves build when the Mihawk sits you in his usual armchair while he and Shanks share the couch. You curl your legs under you, not liking the tension that had bloomed in the room. you lick your lips and break the silence when it seems that neither Shanks nor Mihawk looked like they were going to speak up.

“What's going on?”

You aren't expecting Mihawk to catch your gaze, and you are wholly unprepared to see the terrible guilt and fear that swim in his ringed eyes. The sight strikes you, and you feel concern and anger well up inside. You don't like to see these emotions in your warlord. Mihawk has always been a stone pillar in your life, and it upset you to know that something had made him feel like this.

“Do you remember when you first told me of the dreams you kept having?” When you nod, Mihawk continues, “I lied when I told you that I didn't know anything about them. I panicked earlier when you called your dreams memories because they are _.”

You stare at Mihawk. You can hear him, but there is a ringing in your ears. What did he mean? How could Mihawk know?

“...what?”

Shanks butts in when he sees the confusion and horror that masks your face, “Sweetheart. What do you remember of your home before you came here? Where you came from?”

You shake your head, hands clutching at your robe, “Ah, no? That's always been a little fuzzy for me. I don't know why I can't remember.”

Mihawk speaks up, and you've never heard the stoic man so fretful and nervous before. You don't like it.

“Your home was a chain of prosperous islands named the Nammu Isles. Your parents ruled with a kind hand, but people began to talk, and Charlotte started hearing rumors that the kingdom had connections to Ohara.”

you recognize the name. You remember reading it in one of the many books that Mihawk had brought you over the months. You remember feeling so so angry reading the name, but you couldn't find a reason why. You don't know if it's better or worse now that you know the reason.

“Your parents begged her for a chance to save themselves and offered you up as a bride for one of Big Mom’s sons. She pretended to accept the deal, but in reality, she sent out a message. Calling anyone who wanted a good fight to assist in dealing with a country who needed to know their place.”

“And you were one of them?” You breathe, tone full of anguish, and you look between Mihawk and Shanks. Your heart thuds loudly, and you curl an arm protectively around your stomach. You feel sick.

“I was,” Mihawk confirms, tone wretched and broken, “Your oldest brother, Tomura, found out about the attack and got you out before Big Mom and her sons could make it to the castle. I followed them inside and overheard them making plans to send out ships to search for the two of you, and I decided then that I wanted nothing more to do with Big Mom and her destruction.”

Dracule can see your mounting horror, and he knows he deserves every bit of it, but Mihawk needs to tell you the rest, so he continues.

“I stood there in the main room, looking at all the destruction that they had caused. That I caused, but when I saw you, so innocent and undeserving of what we did to your home, I knew that I couldn't let them find you. I left without a word and sailed out to find you and your brother, saving you from the pirates that had found you, and then I ran. As the years passed, I forgot about what happened, forgot about you, until I found you again.”

You feel like you've stepped straight into the raging waves of the ocean as memories play behind your eyes. You can see it so clearly now, Mihawk arriving on your island and your brother begging you to look away from the Marine Hunter at the time. You can feel the ship rock and shake under you when the cannon balls get too close, and the silence after once you realize that you are safe. You know in your heart that Dracule is telling the truth, but how are you supposed to take such a confession?

You hate him for helping destroy your life, but you can't even remember what your parents look like. Your dreams - memories you remind yourself - only ever showing you your brother and the destruction of your home. But Mihawk had lied to you about who you are for almost two years. He knew your past, knew more than even you. How else were you supposed to feel?

and Shanks? How long had he known? Was he on it, too? The redhead had to have been. They were far too close, and Shanks too knowledgeable about the world. You feel sick, disgusted with the two men in front of you, but numb, too. You don't know how the warlord wants you to react, but you don't think you can deal with either of them right now.

Your silence unnerves Dracule, and he moves from the couch, taking a half step toward his angel, only to stop when you happen to stand as well. He watches with a hopeful expression that falls as you walk past him. Shanks stands as well, dark eyes never leaving your figure as you walk to the front door.

They watch you open it up and stand beside the exit, and Mihawk feels his heart break into a thousand pieces when you look at him, expression closed off and unreadable.

“Get out. Both of you.”

The silence that rings after your statement is deafening. Shanks and Mihawk share a look, and the redhead takes a step forward, hand outstretched.

“Baby, don't - you don't mean that,” he whispers quietly, but you don't look at him. You can't right now. instead, you keep solid eye contact with Mihawk, the true culprit.

“Yes I do. I want you out. Now,” you repeat, and the longer the men linger, the more upset you grow. You have to think. You need time to wrap your head around the fact that both of the people you trust the most in the world have lied to you.

Thankfully, Mihawk seems to understand that being there right now would be the worst thing he and Shanks could do. He tugs Shanks back to the bedroom where Dracule silently gathers his things, slipping on his coat and hat while Shanks roots around for his shirt.

“Mihawk-,” Shanks murmurs, but stops the second the older man shakes his head. The redhead can feel Mihawk's anguish, and he desperately wants to take it away from him, but he knows that only one thing would get Dracule out of his head, and that was you.

You are still standing by the door when they come out of the bedroom. Mihawk can see the way you tremble, but you stay strong and watch them come closer. He stops before you, wanting to reach out, to bed for forgiveness, but the warlord knows it would only make this all worse.

“Call us, please, angel,” Dracule says instead, and doesn't budge until you dip your head in agreement. He fights against the urge to pull you in for a kiss and instead ducks out of the cottage and stalks down the footpath. He needs to go or else he would stay and do something that he would regret.

Shanks lingers, and the redhead can't help himself. He goes to close the distance only for a weight to be shoved at his legs. He looks down, disbelief coloring his face when he sees Hank standing between the two of you. The big mutt stares up at Shanks, and the redhead swears that he can see disappointment swimming in the dog's dark gaze. He looks up at you, helpless, but you look away from him.

“I said get out, Shanks,” you hiss, and the redhead can hear the strain in your voice. He wants to stay, wants to tell you that everything would be okay, and that the three of you could work through this, but he knows that it's a lost cause. At least for now.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” Shanks murmurs, and then he turns and follows Mihawk down the path and to the beach. He rounds up his crew with a few short words, heart breaking further when he realizes that Mihawk is already on his ship sailing away, not even nothing to wait for the younger man.

Now alone, you shut the door and go to the couch, sitting in the middle of it. You take a look around your empty home, feeling hollow and alone. You give Hank a sad, strained smile when he comes and sits beside you, Sukuna appearing seconds later to curl up in your lap. Tears well up and stream down your cheeks, but you do not stop them. You let them fall, and grieve for a past you can't remember and a future that you don't know if you can trust.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings

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stedefxckingbonnet · 6 months

Text

Moonlight Meetings | Izzy Hands x Reader

Summary: You knew Stede Bonnet from his days of being married to your dearest friend, Mary. Although Mary was your best friend, you were still there for Stede during his conflicting feelings about his marriage and wanting to sail the seas and explore the world and, well, become a pirate, and without judgment, too. You wished you had gone with him when he had left, but you stayed loyal to Mary. But upon Stede's return and him and Mary giving and getting the closure they mutually needed, as well as her assisting him in faking his death so he could truly go and live the life he's wanted to pursue without guilt, you do end up going with him this time. You actually reveal yourself to be a skilled navigator and trader, but even before this knowledge, the crew accepted you with open arms. Even a certain first mate who was weary at first (you are Stede's friend, after all) comes around, although you tried to take over his late night thinking spot as your own. You end up sharing said spot and looking forward to your encounters and conversations every night, even throughout the days.

Warnings: slight inconsistency with plot of OFMD (just the stuff with when Stede returns after leaving again, it's really not too evident or bothersome i don't think), some strong language, briefest mention of blood ever, some light angst, brief mentions of troubling past, brief explorations of anxiety, kissing

This honestly took me a few days to write, and Tumblr didn't save some of it, so that was frustrating, anyhow—I truly hope you all enjoy this! I enjoyed writing it. I have a few requests that I will be fulfilling hopefully tomorrow as well, or at least in the next couple of days especially after recent events if you know what I mean...I love you all so dearly and I cannot thank you enough for all the love you've shown me so far. I've enjoyed talking with you all whether it's through the comments or my inbox or even messages :) Keep the requests coming, and have a wonderful day (or night!)

Word Count: 5461

You had never fathomed that the sun could even shine this brightly. For once in your life, its beams didn't berate you but rather seemed to engulf you in a warm embrace as a sort of sendoff on your new endeavors, encouraging you, almost—reassuring you that this was in fact the right choice.

Ever since Stede had taken off to start his new life as a pirate amongst the ocean, you couldn't help but feel envious. You would have given anything to be able to do the same, to leave everything behind and start fresh, especially upon the saltwater seas. Barbados was all you had ever known and it never truly felt like your home. But even just the thought, the daydream of sailing the seas and discovering places you never imagined existed, felt like absolute bliss and paradise. You were sad to see Stede go, too, but you knew it would be good for him. You knew he would be happier than he was living here with Mary and his children, living the life his parents designed for him. You were undeniably happy for him. But you couldn't help but also be extremely jealous, too. Though of course, you would never express these feelings harshly—you really were over the moon for Stede. You just wished for something beyond the life that was handed to you, too. You knew he understood that, too.

Whenever you and Stede would whisper about his plans in corners at all of those socialite gatherings in the rare moments when no one was watching, he would always suggest for you to go with him, but you felt like you had no choice but to stay, especially with Mary. She was your dearest friend, and you felt strongly about your loyalty towards her. You'd never admit you were also terrified of your name being slandered and that your new reputation would follow you out there forever if you had left with him, at least at that time, in those circumstances.

But, Stede returned briefly, and all had been rekindled with Mary. They sincerely wished each other well, and she even helped him pull off a grandiose stunt—faking his death, and you knew that now, he was finally able to live the life he yearned for in peace and free of guilt. He killed off the Stede Bonnet of Barbados, and truly began to grow into the person he wanted to be—Stede Bonnet of the sea, The Gentleman Pirate.

Once he pulled it off, you walked over with him to the sand to send him off once again. There was a lingering moment between the two of you, both knowing that this would not be farewell.

"I'm going to ask you again," Stede started. "Do you want to come with me? Please, come with me, it's amazing out there. And the crew, oh!—you'd just love the crew! Please?"

How could you resist this time? Even before he had formally asked again, you were already on board, ready for whatever awaited you on this journey.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The first few weeks aboard The Revenge had been nothing short of wonderful. You already felt well acquainted with your crew, and there were even a particular few you felt yourself getting closer to already, and hoped you all would continue to. But there were parts of it that were terrifying, too—it would hit you in the most out of nowhere moments that you just up and left your last life. It's not like anything, let alone anyone was waiting for you back there, but nonetheless it shocked you from time to time that you had even left. You felt like an entirely new person—you knew that in your core you were still you, but your identity felt a bit lost in this new environment somewhere. You hardly mourned this, as you were excited to explore a new you, but that didn't erase the fact that it was frightening. There were nights where you found yourself confiding in Stede about this for hours, but you eventually stopped as you noticed Ed would already be in his quarters when you arrived and you wanted to give them privacy. Still, you couldn't stand to be alone in your own quarters, but you weren't sure which of your crew mates' doors you could knock on just yet. The only place left was to check out the main deck, see if there were any nooks and crannies you may have missed.

After a few minutes of searching, you found the perfect spot—you couldn't really be seen by anyone else on the deck, if anyone decided to walk onto it, but you could still stare out at the water and the moonlight. The moon's reflection rippling across the ocean was one of your favorite sights—it brought you such peace, so you were honestly glad that you strayed from being holed up in Stede's room and wound up here instead. You were about to sit when you felt someone else's presence beside you. You jumped, immediately turning around to see who it was, your hand instinctively reaching for your sword.

"It's just me," Izzy sighed. "You can put your fucking sword away. Just me.

You let out a sigh of relief upon the sight of the first mate. You knew that his presence unsettled, or really just annoyed the others, but not you. His presence made you feel safe and looked after, even if he was a bit harsh a lot of the time.

"This is my spot, you know," he sighed once again.

"Your spot?"

"It's where I come to think every single night, even when I'm not on watch," he explained to you surprisingly patiently.

"Do you want me to leave?" you pondered, almost frantically. You didn't want to feel like you had invaded yet another space. You knew you would start spiraling, start thinking that maybe there wasn't a place for you aboard The Revenge. And honestly, Izzy wanted to be alone, but the look on your face almost pierced through his heart. He didn't have the heart to tell you off.

"You don't have to," he shrugged, sitting down beside you. "It's fine."

You both stared out at the sea. You were beyond grateful to have some company, honestly—company beyond the moon itself. Not long after, a sigh escaped your own lips. Izzy tried to fight off the urge to talk to you, but he couldn't deny that he felt so drawn to you, even when you first arrived on the ship.

"Something wrong?" he finally asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He intended to keep you in his periphery.

"I guess I've just been feeling kind of like an outsider," you shrugged, continuing. "Being here is all I've ever wanted and more, but I just feel like such a burden to everyone all the time. I don't really have anyone to talk to, and even when Stede left our village, I only had one friend. Now I just feel even more alone...It's silly, I know."

"It's not," Izzy protested. "I get it. I do."

"You do?"

Izzy nodded. "You don't ever see me talking to anyone, do you?"

You paused to ponder. "Not unless they need something."

"Exactly."

"Do you ever get lonely, Izzy?"

Such an innocent inquiry was enough to almost make Izzy's heart stop. Looking at you from the corner of his eye wasn't enough anymore. He turned his head to face you, witnessing the genuine expression on your face. You truly cared, and you truly wanted to know. No one had ever looked at Izzy this way before, and he wasn't sure of how it was supposed to make him feel—frustrated? Sad? Sorry? Joyous, even? He subtly put his gloved hand upon his chest, thinking somehow it would slow his quickly-paced heartbeat. He wasn't used to this, he couldn't even believe this was happening. He even felt he was reading too much into this—but, you cared, and he knew it right away. He didn't know what to do with that. But it was a pleasant feeling, teetering on bittersweet. Upon realizing your question was still hanging in the air, he quickly spoke again, his mind not exactly in sync with his mouth.

"I suppose."

Izzy's response hung in the air just as your query had. It felt relieving to put such a thing out into the universe, but it also felt dreadful facing this reality. Was this the reason behind the occasionally random sharp pains in his chest, almost reminiscent of someone stabbing him right through his heart with a sword? These physical sensations never came without a looming feeling of gloominess, after all. He almost exhaled at the thought. He wasn't sure whether or not he was ready to explore any of this, let alone if he even wanted to do so. His gaze was still fixated on you, as if he were awaiting to hear something from you as well. For once in his life, hope could be seen in his eyes, though he didn't know it.

Finally, you spoke. "I'll be the moon."

A laugh almost boomed from Izzy's chest. "What?"

"I'll be here every night, if you'll have me. If there's ever a particularly hard day, just remember that the moon will rise at the end of the day and be there for you to lament all your sorrows to," you stood up by this point, speaking sort of dramatically, but it was apparent that you meant it sincerely. "And even during the day, did you know you can still see the moon? So, I'll be there during the day, too."

Izzy was in complete and utter disbelief in the best way possible. He was truly at a loss for words, and he swore his head was going to hurt from how much he was nodding. You smiled at this sight, and held your hand out to help Izzy up. He looked at you, confusing written all over his expression, but you kept your hand there. Finally, he allowed himself to put his hand in yours and before he knew it, he was back on his feet again, in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Izzy."

"Right. Yes. Goodnight."

The thought of Izzy didn't leave your mind even as you retreated to your quarters, nor when you succumbed to sleep for the remainder of the night's reign. Little did you know that Izzy thought of you, too. That you weren't just going to be his moonlight, but also, his sunshine. But he didn't know that just yet.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You rose right as the sun did the next day, never having been more ready to take on a day until now. Something was even more enchanting about watching the transition of grey hues into orange into light blue, but this process in reverse would always have your heart. The rest of the crew woke up shortly after you, some still yawning, some stumbling upon the main deck from exhaustion. You couldn't help but giggle at such sights. None other than Izzy Hands followed behind them and your heart almost skipped a beat. Usually when this happened it was because you were overcome with worry, but, not this time and you knew that deep down. When you swore no one else was looking, you glanced over and sent a grin his way, to which he slightly returned—blinked, and you would have missed it. Your smile grew even larger, and you had to turn away to conceal it. Before you knew it, you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to gasp.

"Someone's chipper this morning."

"Stede!" you exclaimed, laughing so hard that your stomach would probably hurt later. You swiveled around to face him. "Scared the ever living shit out of me."

"Sorry about that," Stede couldn't help but chuckle. "I just wanted to check in with you...are you feeling happy here? You settling in okay? I know it's a lot to just up and leave your life."

"Honestly, I've never been better," you admitted, your smile still existing upon you. And your smile was radiant—it had almost everyone's head turns toward you, their hearts feeling warm. Even Izzy. Especially Izzy. "I am so glad I did this. I regret not joining you sooner, but I—"

"I know," Stede jumped in to assure you, which you were endlessly grateful for. He knew of your tendency to spiral, and he wanted to cultivate a space where you didn't feel like you had to do so. "And I admire your loyalty. It's been an asset on this ship so far."

You sent a glance of gratitude his way before he walked off upon the sight of Ed emerging from his quarters, finally. You laughed as they made their ways over to one another. You were beyond happy to see your dear friend so happy, so in love. So in his element, where he truly belonged.

"Everyone, get to work!" Izzy suddenly shouted, to which the crew immediately scurried off to their designated areas. This didn't startle you, though. You made your way over to the kitchen to assist Roach in organizing the rations, accidentally brushing hands with Izzy as you did. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him from over your shoulder. He was looking at you, too, the smallest smile on his face. He couldn't look away, even though he wanted to just in case his face flushed or he smiled any further or, gods forbid, anyone else saw. You weren't afraid to keep smiling, and after what felt like forever of engaging in this staring match with the first mate, you finally ducked into the kitchen, so as not to keep Roach waiting. If you had, he would know something happened and he would pester you about it for the rest of your life.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Night fell sooner than you could realize it and for that, you were entirely grateful. You had been distracted the entirety of the day; the thought of whatever you and Izzy may have to share later dancing around in your mind, causing your heart to do pirouettes whenever you daydreamed about it. You almost couldn't even wait until everyone was asleep—but you knew this would run the risk of revealing your and Izzy's secret spot, and that would be less than ideal for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was to ruin a good thing that was only just beginning to blossom.

But tonight, Izzy was early. He found himself inhabited in the very same spot as the previous night, just as he had promised. Without a word, you plopped down right beside him, sending one of your signature smiles his way.

"I've never wished a day away like I had today," you laughed breathlessly.

"Nor have I. Yet, here we are." You could tell that there wasn't resentment behind Izzy's statement, but rather, a sort of joy. You discreetly moved a bit closer to him, your knees almost brushing against one another. Izzy also moved toward you at the same time, causing said collision. You were grateful for the dark concealing the rose tint creeping upon your cheeks. Izzy was grateful for the dark concealing the smile creeping upon his lips.

Izzy exhaled almost sharply, preparing to speak again, really speak. "I don't mean to scare off the crew, you know."

"I don't think you scare them one bit," you were quick to reassure him. "It's just how times were in the time where you sailed with Blackbeard, right?"

Izzy nodded almost rapidly, in utter shock that you already had such a good read on him. "Times were different, that's for sure."

"I can tell you care," you told him sincerely. "You just have a way of showing it that the crew isn't used to. I mean, they have Stede fucking Bonnet as one of their captains."

Izzy didn't hesitate to laugh at that. "Yeah. Stupid fucking Stede Bonnet...but what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being a part of...that world. His world."

You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully. "It was...a lot, all at once. Lots of uncomfortable clothes, powder on my face that made me look sickly but everyone would swear I was beautiful. But I never felt like a real fucking person. Ever. It was honestly exhausting."

Izzy listened intently, leaning in a bit to further demonstrate this. He nodded as you spoke, nods that spoke: I understand. That does sound like a lot. That does sound exhausting. It's amazing that you left that life behind. You're destined for so much more than what you were given. But all Izzy could manage to say, was, "No wonder you left. That sounded awful." He was mentally punching himself for not thinking of anything better to say. You deserved words in which were beautifully and artfully strung together. He knew that.

But, you laughed, knowing he empathized just by the way he looked at you. You were no stranger to these sorts of glances—sure, no one had ever looked at you that way before, but it was all you read about in your favorite romance novels, described so vividly that once you did encounter a moment like this, you would immediately recognize it, and, you did. "I'm better now. Much better. Where I need to be."

Once again, Izzy nodded. "You've been a great addition to this crew."

"Really?" you asked, almost in disbelief, but you were flattered to say the very least.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." To anyone else, this would have sounded harsh. To you, these were the most reassuring words you had ever heard. He looked over at you, insecurity rushing through his bloodstream and you could see this. Even in the light of the moon, you could see the paleness of Izzy's face.

"Thank you, Izzy." You spoke sincerely, and suddenly all pigment re-entered Izzy's once ghostly features. Such words felt so foreign and out of reach for him, until you had confidently brought them into existence. From you, this declaration wasn't a whisper—he could tell that you meant it with your entire heart. He couldn't even recall the last time someone had shown him a shred of gratitude, or if anyone ever had at all before this. Just those three words were enough to send warmth all throughout his body even as the breeze threatened to send shivers down both of your spines and force you underneath the warmth of your blankets in your respective quarters. This would be a warmth that would carry on every time he saw you from this point on—you would be the start to the fireplace in his heart, and part of him knew this was going to begin to happen from this moment forward. As long as you were going to be around, he knew he would at least never be entirely freezing again.

All Israel Hands could manage to do now was look at you. There were stars in his eyes paired tears hat threatened to cascade down his cheeks like waterfalls and he hoped so much that you weren't able to see, that the moon would spare him at least a bit. But you so badly wanted to reach out and wipe away the water from the corners of his eyes, though you wanted his complete trust even more, and that seemed like the last way to get it, at least this early on.

"My eyes just get dry," Izzy quickly defended in case you had seen anything.

You stifled a quiet laugh. "It is pretty windy out here."

"So, see you tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, not even trying to conceal the corners of your lips rising to form a smile.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Tomorrow's would unfold every single night, not one ever missed. There were even a few nights that you happened to be in the midst of a cold but you insisted to be in your spot with Izzy, to which he would protest and you would compromise by allowing your meetings to happen in your quarters as he got Roach to make you soup, and you were better within the next few days. And even on the days where Izzy felt like absolutely screaming and cursing at the world, perhaps directing this to Blackbeard and Stede, he would still eagerly await your time together—it would be beyond enough to get him through those days.

It had now been quite some time since these meetings began. You were really beginning to solve the riddle that was Izzy Hands, and you quite liked what you were finding, and it only made you yearn to uncover even more. But, there were many nights and even days spent where you worried—worried that perhaps Izzy was ashamed of the connection that you two had formed, and that was why your encounters took place at night. Or, perhaps he was just lonely, or he had nothing better to do. You did your best to push these thoughts to the back of your mind but you usually had no luck. And, it was even harder to deny the blossoming feelings you had for the man.

Even before the first time you two had really conversed, you knew there was something about the first mate that you were drawn to, and these nights with Izzy had only confirmed that.

Little did you know that the same fears, and probably even more, existed within Izzy. Of all the people in the crew, why had you taken interest in him? He knew that even Stede Bonnet was probably of more interest, with his fancy wears and his everlasting bookshelves. Or Frenchie perhaps, with his instrument and his voice that the crew never got sick of hearing. Or Lucius with his sketches and his wit. Or hell, even Blackbeard himself, with all of the anecdotes he had up his sleeve—but why him? Why Israel Hands? This thought often plagued him to the point where his head would begin to hurt just a bit, and whenever it did (and, you knew when it did—he wasn't the best at hiding the wincing at all), he would just cake it to the changes in weather, or something that had happened that day, or even not drinking enough water. You always knew these excuses were, well, excuses, but you also knew it wasn't best to press.

Sometimes, part of Izzy wished that you would press. It was you, so he wouldn't mind as much. It wasn't likely that he would pour out his concerns, but he would appreciate yours.

As soon as you arose, you already spotted Black Pete and Lucius, who absolutely qualified for the cutest couple award, if there were such a thing—you wouldn't be surprised if Stede had established that just for them. But, your heart sank just a bit, knowing you couldn't express your growing love for Izzy like that. You weren't even sure you would know if he returned your feelings, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin such a beautiful thing between the both of you with such knowledge, especially if he truly didn't feel the same. But every morning, your heart would ache, and it became harder and harder to keep all of this love to yourself. You wanted more than anything for it to pour out of you like a fountain that never stopped flowing. You reserved such ardor for Izzy and Izzy alone. Never had you carried such affection, such fondness for another, and not only did that excite you, but it also scared the hell out of you.

The crew noticed this after the first few weeks—oh, you were far from subtle. You practically glowed whenever Izzy entered a room, even if you appeared completely composed.

Finally, Izzy rose from his quarters and your heart leapt in your chest. You couldn't hold it in anymore, and there was no way you were waiting for the moon to rise tonight. You waltzed right over to Izzy, gently pulling him aside. He didn't resist your touch at all—it felt almost familiar, and peaceful.

"Do you have a moment?" you suddenly asked.

"For you? Always. For anything else? Probably not," he chuckled.

Before you were about to speak once again, Stede had announced that the ship had docked. You sighed, slumping against the railing that you and Izzy were propped up against.

"Can it wait?" Izzy asked you sheepishly, his eyes apologizing.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, it can," you sighed.

"Not for long," Izzy assured you as he rushed off in order to ensure the ship's safe docking. It only took a few moments before he gestured for you to follow him off of the ship. You perked up at this, grabbing your satchel and running over to him.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked as you walked along the pathway of the Republic of Pirates.

"I...It's nothing. Not here, at least."

"Then where?" Izzy sent a playful smile your way.

"Could we actually head back to the ship? Just for a moment?"

Izzy pondered this—for just a moment. "I suppose no one would really notice, and if they did, they wouldn't care all that much."

This time, Izzy followed you. You were already beginning to regret this quite a bit, and beads of sweat were forming upon your temple. You wiped them away carefully, fanning yourself with your hand. You led Izzy to your shared spot, barely being able to breathe. Nor was Izzy with the way you were practically running back, and he had to do his best to keep up the pace. But the thought that something could be wrong was beginning to plague him.

"I couldn't wait until tonight," you finally admit, nervous laughter bubbling out of you.

"Most days, I can't either," Izzy sent a reassuring, but equally as nervous smile your way. "All of the time, actually."

All you could manage to do was sit there and just glow. You glowed underneath the sun's beams and the sight of it made Izzy absolutely melt, and not from the heat.

"Is everything alright? Just wanted to talk?"

Your eyes stayed fixated upon the man before you, the person whom you carried so much love for that it almost overflowed out of you. And, it was no secret that you had never felt this way about anyone before, and Stede Bonnet himself could and would be overjoyed to confirm it. You were often urged to find some sort of attachment toward a plethora of potential "worthy" suitors, but none of them ever caught your eye, nor had much to offer you despite all of their pleas. You always had this feeling deep down that none of them were truly suitable, and so you bore no hesitation saving yourself and your heart for someone that was. And Israel Hands was beyond anything you had ever dreamed of. He suited you so perfectly. He was worthy of all of the love in the world and so much more—you just hoped yours was enough for him. You hoped he would want any of it—it was his if he did.

And oh, did he want it. He yearned for you. Izzy's heart ached when the two of you were forced to retreat to your quarters after hours of conversation. He could spend forever just sitting there with you, his arm wrapped around you as you witnessed the sky's change every day, together. To him, that would be absolute paradise. Every second he spent with you, and even when you were apart, he knew in his heart that he held this special sort of feeling for you. Dare he call it love, as he didn't want his heart to shatter into a million pieces that he wouldn't be able to pick up. But, you were it for him, and he knew that deep down. He could see it in your eyes, or at least, he hoped that was what he was seeing. You did look at him with stars in your eyes, and you knew that.

"Please, don't hate me," you started, biting your lip so harshly that it almost drew blood.

"Hate you?" Izzy repeated, absolutely puzzled. "I couldn't hate you even if I tried."

You inhaled so sharply that you almost choked on air. You laughed it off, though Izzy instinctively placed his arm on the small of your back, tracing small patterns into it. With this, you collapsed into his arms and he was already set up to catch you. Sobs escaped your lips as he moved one of his hands to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair in an attempt to hopefully soothe you. These weren't instincts he was familiar with, yet, he felt as if he was meant to do these things. "You can tell me. Take your time, of course," he assured you as you continued to cry. After a moment, you managed to compose yourself a bit and you felt okay enough to pull away, but Izzy kept his hands on your upper arms gently, just in case. He was really starting to grow concerned, his stomach churning.

"You won't hate me?"

Izzy laughed, to which you managed the smallest of smiles. "I could never."

"I...I feel very connected to you, Izzy," you began. "And our conversations have really confirmed that for me. I don't just think about you at night before we talk—do you know that? You are the first thing that enters my mind each morning and then I can't wait to see you, really see you and talk to you and be close to you. And some days on this ship are hard, Izzy, but you make things so much easier. You take so much weight off of my shoulders."

"The thought of getting to talk to you gets me out of bed every day," Izzy admitted. "I've been doing this a long time and sometimes I don't know what it's all for anymore, why I even bother. But if I get to see your smile, it's all worth it."

You swore you were about to become a blubbering mess if you opened your mouth to speak at all. As you took a step forward towards him, your fingers intertwining as you approached. His other hand gently landed upon your waist, and your eyes met at the same second. The gap between you both was too much, too much, and neither of you could take its existence anymore—he gently reeled you in and you pressed your lips against his. He quietly gasped in surprise, though it was quickly followed by a sort of sigh of relief as he returned your kiss, returned your sentiments. You smiled against his lips and he couldn't help but do the same, there was no denying that your smile was contagious. He felt as if he were meant to do this, meant to show you such tenderness and care and love. And you would do anything in your power to show him that he was worthy of all of yours.

"I..." Izzy whispered against your lips. "I love you." The words almost got stuck in his throat—they felt unfamiliar, and unfamiliar was rarely not terrifying or dreadful. Right now, unfamiliar was exhilarating. Those three words were the truest he had ever spoken. You lit up more than the sun, the stars, and the moon combined.

"I love you, Israel." You had saved those three words for someone special, someone whom you truly adored without any question, and Izzy happened to be that someone. Anyone else would never, ever compare. He engulfed you in another embrace, your shirt becoming slightly stained by his tears. "I was meant to."

"Meant to what?"

"I was meant to love you. Made for it, probably," you laughed.

Izzy took hold of your hand once again, disentangling himself from your embrace to face you. With his free hand, he cupped your cheek and his thumb caressed it softly. "I think perhaps the moon knew to bring us together. But I loved...I loved you even before then. Or at least, I had a strong feeling I was going to. That, I'm certain about."

"Think we still have some time before everyone notices we're gone?" you asked, hope wavering in your voice.

"Oh, we've got ample long as they're at Spanish Jackie's," he couldn't help but chuckle. "We've got all the time in the world, my love."

"All of the time in the world," you repeated. "I love the sound of that."

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd season 2 #x reader #izzy hands my beloved #ofmd s2 #fanfic #ofmd izzy hands #tumblr deleted the ending the first time so please bear with me #keep the requests coming #please request #requests are open #requests open #israel hands #israel hands imagine

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outofmyelement-naclh2o · 2 months

Text

Anegada BVI

#ocean #sea #sailing #sailboat #salt water #saltwater #carribean #BVI #Sunset

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undiscovered-horizon · 10 months

Text

"Sea shanties" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of a minor injury and blood]

SUMMARY: Alina catches Sturmhond in a surprising moment of weakness when he's quietly watching you sing to yourself and fix the net.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

The cold wind nips at your exposed skin and part of you beckons you to return under the deck to finish sewing the net back together. But you dread returning among the sailors: despite truly being a lovely bunch, their constant chattering and liveliness can wear you out. The berths and cabins are warm, yes, but the sea is silent, predictable and, most of all, doesn’t expect engagement. As long as you let her be, she leaves you alone in return. Here, where cold wind tugs at your clothes and saltwater spray your face, you can finally take a deep breath and relax your tense shoulders. Stitching the nets is a very monotone, maybe even boring, activity but it’s exactly what you need. Your hands fix the knots on their own, guided by experience, allowing your mind to let go of duties and worries, to slip away into much more pleasant thoughts.

“I’ll wander, weep and moan. All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home,” you sing barely above a whisper. Truthfully, you can’t recall where you learned the song. It’s as if you’ve always known it, the melody haunting you whenever you’re getting lost in thought.

Alina lets out a sigh of relief when she finally finds Sturmhond. For a moment she was really considering whether he could snap his fingers and vanish. He’s leaning against the doorframe but his broad shoulders still block most of the view of the deck. Sturmhond is completely oblivious to her presence and Alina has a bit too much spite in her to let the opportunity go. She quietly approaches him, harbouring a wicked hope that maybe she can scare him and single-handedly rub away that smug smirk of his.

She stops a pace or two behind him, taking in a deep breath to yell right into his ear. "Sturmhond, I-"

But the privateer is quick to silence her:

"Keep your voice down!" he hisses at Alina.

The Sun Summoner frowns at the privateer. Not only did she not scare him but also seems to be interrupting something. And considering his wish to keep things quiet, Sturmhond is doing something he knows he shouldn’t. She stares at him through half-closed eyes, beaming with suspicion, when she hears a faint hum distracting her from constructing some passive-aggressive remark. Alina recognizes your voice, although it sounds a lot softer than what she’s used to. Being the boatswain, you’re mostly heard yelling out orders for the maintenance crew that you’re watching over; forcing seafarers to tie perfect knots, no matter how many tries it takes them and raising Hell for the smallest error in repairing sails. Even if you might come off as harsh, credit is due as Volkvolny’s sails and equipment are kept impeccable. Your discipline has definitely played a significant part in Sturmhond’s successful betrayal of the Black General.

Listening in, over the howling wind and crashing waves, Alina and Nikolai eavesdrop on the sombre song you’re singing quietly to yourself — a story of a woman mourning her lover who never returned from the sea. Despite the heaviness of the words leaving your mouth, your voice is rid of dread as though such a woeful story is nowhere near relatable to you. Alina doesn’t notice that detail but Sturmhond surely does. In fact, it brings him a sense of relief: after all, how could he compete with a dead man for your love?

A mischievous smile creeps onto Alina’s face as she’s looking between you and Sturmhond. As far as she can tell, you’re completely oblivious to the small audience watching you go about your duties. The sailor, however, is unable to control his soft expression and that lovesick, mellow look in his eyes. To be honest, Sturmhond looks so removed from reality, he might actually be unaware that there are more people in the world than just him and you.

“So, genius privateer Sturmhond, the fright of the sea is in love with the boatswain,” Alina whispers, barely holding in an impish snicker, “but instead of his usual bravado he cowers away, settling for watching her from afar like a creep.”

He seems to ponder her words for a moment, nodding his head ever so slightly. “That is a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?” he asks. Nikolai appears to be well aware of his affliction but rendered powerless in the face of his heart’s desire, he can only accept the state of things.

“I wanted to say pathetic but either way works.”

Sturmhond looks at Alina out of the corner of his eye but only for a moment, unwilling to waste any more time not admiring you. “Wouldn’t it be more pathetic to be the best privateer in all of Ravka’s history but not know love?”

Alina clenches her fists. She puckers her lips, suddenly feeling hot as blood rushes to her face. Saints have mercy - he’s right. The sole act of seeing eye to eye with the blond man isn’t as terrible as the act of admitting it and stroking his ego. “I hate to say it but I agree,” she grits through her teeth.

Nikolai notices her discomfort. He doesn’t hide a certain satisfaction in the effect he has on her - it’s amusing to see her paper mache confidence falter, although he is painfully aware that this will prove problematic later on. “Oh my, I might think you actually tolerate me.”

She forces herself into a contemptuous scowl - it’s a little overdone to be considered natural. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Alina dismisses him.

“You know, I might be an incredible captain and all but without her…” Sturmhond shakes his head. His eyes follow your barely noticeable movements as you weave the net back together. “This whole ship would have already sunk.”

But she doesn’t believe him - not entirely. If she is to believe Tamar, and Alina doesn’t have much reason not to, Sturmhond chose Volkvolny despite having more captain-worthy vessels available. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’d allow that.”

“Right. If she wasn’t on this ship, I wouldn’t be either.”

Alina almost comes to the conclusion that you’re the sole reason he chose Volkvolny to be his flagship but she mostly dismisses that thought - Sturmhond may be doting but he’s far from completely losing his mind. He simply doesn’t give the impression of someone who’d shuffle his life around just to be able to creep on his boatswain. Little did she know at the time but the strangeness and dread the future holds is going to prove her wrong.

Their conversation is halted when one of the sailors on night watch passes by them. Alina recognizes him by the burn mark spreading across the right side of his face. Tolya called him ‘Marquis’. His long, blond hair sway in the cold wind. As he’s carrying a heavy crate from starboard to port, he’s quietly singing along to your song with certain carelessness as though he’s not entirely aware he’s doing it:

“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me-”

Alina yawns. She’s had a long, exciting day and tomorrow is not going to be any easier, that she’s sure of. Whatever she wants to tell Sturmhond will have to wait until dawn when the captain wriggles free of his heart’s restless desires. Even though at first she’s annoyed that she has to wait because Sturmhond decided to play a lovesick teenager, she quickly finds it may be for the best: an in-depth discussion will surely erupt between the two of them and doing so when the moon is high just doesn’t seem like the best idea. Aside from that, she can really use a few more hours of sleep.

The Sun Summoner murmurs something resembling ‘Goodnight’ to Sturmhond and turns around to go back to the room she shares with Tamar, when a great wave shakes the ship, throwing her against a wooden wall. Despite the impact not being exceptionally painful to her, she’s sore anyway, the sound of it carried quite well.

Hearing a thud, you look up out of reflex. Glancing around the deck, your watchful eyes stop on Sturmhond, who’s staring back at you. The privateer gives the impression that you’ve just become privy to a side of him he’s not so keen on showing. Perhaps ‘side’ doesn’t quite mirror the idea. ‘Layer’ seems more fitting. It’s as though he dropped the facade of quick wit and evasive answers, only to show the exhaustion of a man carrying the world on his shoulders for a day too long. Despite the silence and distance between you, this staring feels intimate; both of you are showing something raw to one another in the gullible hope that the other will keep it secret.

He appears different, more calm than smug, than he does during the day, although still beautiful enough to make you flustered. Truly, he looks like he breaks the hearts of naive girls for a living. Despite that, as well as your experience with sailors in general, you found yourself craving his attention. Whether it’s intentional or not, Sturmhond has the ability to make people feel seen and their efforts acknowledged. Considering that establishing your position among sea dogs as a woman is a real challenge, maybe it was your hurt ego that clawed at any possibility or delusion of your exceptionalism. And maybe the privateer never intended for you to be hopelessly in love with him. Sure, the two of you have flirted back and forth but you never assumed it means as much to him as it does to you. It’s just the way he is, right?

A sharp, stinging pain in your finger makes you yelp. Discarding fantasies about the blond man in an awful frock coat, you look at your sore hand, now noticing a drop of crimson slowly rolling down your skin.

“Well, shit,” you whisper to yourself.

You put the bleeding finger against your lips. It’s a small cut, it shouldn’t bleed longer than a minute or two and then you can get back to-

“Are you alright?”

Sturmhond’s worried tone elicits mixed but engaging feelings from you. On one hand, you’re giddy at any crumb of attention he gives you. On the other hand, you just failed at the second easiest maintenance job a ship can have - one Hell of a way to make a good impression on the captain that always seems to fall on four paws.

“Yeah, just pricked my finger with a needle fixing the net. Nothing fatal.”

“Why are you doing this anyway? You’re a boatswain. This is a deckhand’s job,” he says as he grabs the net from your hands and tosses it aside.

“Believe it or not but I actually enjoy this. It’s peaceful, helps me get my mind off of things.”

He gives you a cocky half-grin. “Pricking your finger is just a tasteful addition, I presume?”

“Oh, you know, just trying to enrich things,” you joke back.

Sturmhond lets out a quiet, resigned sigh. Of course, you told everyone to go to sleep and finished the odd jobs yourself. “Have Tamar look at this,” he says in a soft voice. Despite the suddenly mild demeanour, his smug expression stays in place. “I’ll get someone else to finish.”

“Alright, captain,” you reluctantly agree. “But can it wait a few minutes? I like it here.”

Your gaze returns to the sapphire waves and black firmament, the line of horizon barely distinguishable between them. To your own surprise, Sturmhond sits down next to you on a barrel. “Just a few,” he says insincerely. You may not know it but he’s willing to sit there with you for much longer than a few minutes.

Volkvolny bobs on the waves, headed somewhere in the South-East direction. Cold water sprays on your face and clothes but you don’t mind it. It’s quite refreshing. Only now do you notice how quiet the ship is. Most of the crew must already be asleep, revelling in the few hours of rest they have until dawn. The thought of sleeping sailors makes you aware of your own exhaustion, both physical and mental.

You barely stifle a yawn. Too tired to think twice, you lay your head against Sturmhond’s shoulder. He doesn’t shy away, quite the contrary - he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his torso ever so slightly. He smells like expensive, imported cologne and seaweed. The fragrance is hardly likable but you’ve grown to earn some masochistic pleasure from it simply because it belongs to him. The blue frock coat he’s wearing feels nice against your skin.

“Why do you always sing that song?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I always sing or hum doing manual jobs. It’s a habit I can’t kill,” you answer quietly. It’s hard to keep your eyes open and you can hear your words starting to slur. “I grew up in Novokribirsk. I know a lot of shanties.”

“Know anything happier than mourning a sailor?”

“Hardly,” you let out a tired chuckle. “Somehow, sailors have an aversion to happy songs. There’s one you might like.” You clear your throat, trying to recall the song from your cloudy, tired memories. “I’m a broken man on the Os Kervo pier, the last of Ravka’s privateers.”

Sturmhond furrows his eyebrows and he shakes his head in disapproval. “No, it’s still depressing.” Whether he means to or not, his finger is gently brushing circles against your arm.

“Alright, another one, um… Oh! Don’t haul on the ropes, don’t climb up the mast. If you see a sailing ship, it might be your last.”

“Ominous and tedious. I’m actually surprised you can put both in one song.”

To Sturmhond’s dissatisfaction, you pull away from him. Still, the distance between you is considerably small and you feel each other’s breaths on your skin. With half-lidded eyes out of exhaustion, you give him a wide smile. His breath shakes in his chest.

“You know, you might be the most optimistic sailor I’ve ever met,” you confess.

He could kiss you right now. Saints only know how much he wants to. If the odds are in his favour, and his vanity would like to think they are, you might even kiss him back. Or at least not slap him. Would your lips feel soft and warm against his? Would you taste of saltwater and rye bread like he always imagines? Would you giggle nervously after? In that specific way that makes him forget to breathe?

But Sturmhond can only hope your tired mind can’t compute his nervousness. “Does that title come with a prize?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Is being the most optimistic sailor truly worth such honour?” he says in an overly dramatic tone. He jokingly puts his hand on his chest. “Are you not underestimating your presence, my lady?”

“You get extra credit because I like you. A lot.”

Sturmhond swallows nervously. Since when does he get nervous around women? For a moment you’re just staring at each other again. The desire to push his lips against yours is back flooding his mind, now stronger and more desperate than before. The first chance might have been a coincidence but the second… He slowly leans in, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But you look just as lovely as you did in the morning. His nose almost brushes yours and-

“I might have a happy one,” you suddenly speak up. You look back at the sea, furrowing your eyebrows in deep thought. “Saints, how did it go?” you whisper to yourself. “Prick your finger, it is done. Roll her out and spread her wings, the time has come for better things.”

Having mastered self-control, Sturmhond doesn’t make his disappointment visible. The third time’s the charm, right? “First one that doesn’t make me want to drown myself.” The bitterness in his voice is almost inaudible but you’re too tired to notice.

“I’ll sing you the whole thing but that has to wait until morning, alright?”

“I’m holding you to that.”

His heart quickens its beat when you lay your head back on his shoulder. He should probably tell you to go back to your berth and get some sleep but maybe it can wait a few minutes? He likes it here.

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alwaysonthemend · 7 months

Text

Author's Note: I got a request about 10 million years ago for a fluffy Jake fic where he teaches you how to swim. I loved this prompt so much and I am SO SO SO SO SORRY it took this long. Like it’s embarrassing how long this took. I doubt the wait was worth it at this point but hey at least I actually posted it eventually lol. This has no smut which is very not like me but this Jake was just too sweet for it. I can't write Jake smut without it being filthy. Anyways, all mistakes are my own!

Warnings: Just fluff and cussing. Also Jake is adorable.

Word Count: 3984

-------------------------

“Fuck!”

You snapped your eyes up from your book just in time to see Jake go sailing off Daniel’s shoulders and into the waves, shouting expletives even after he hit the water. You can’t help but to smile as you take in the sight before you – Josh, sitting triumphantly atop Sam’s shoulders, sporting a shit-eating grin, Sam wearing an equally smug smile of his own, and Danny giggling as Jake resurfaces from underneath the waves.

They’ve been playing chicken for what feels like hours – far longer than any grown men should be playing such a game but they’re enjoying themselves so you can’t really fault them. They’ve more than earned some time off with how crazy tour life has been.

“I’m done with this shit.” Jake exclaims, trudging his way up from the water and onto the shore where you’ve been sitting.

“You’re only saying that because you keep losing!!’ Sam calls after him, unceremoniously dumping Josh off his shoulders and into the water before following Jake out as well.

“You fucker.” You hear Josh yell and you giggle at the scowl he shoots in Sam’s direction.

Shaking your head, you close your book and look up to see Jake standing before you in all his glory. You allow yourself to drink in his form – his tanned skin looks almost golden in the afternoon light and the smile he’s giving you is downright radiant. His expression is shy and so very soft as he looks down at you.

“Hi.” You say, smiling back up at him. Your relationship with Jake is still in its early stages – the both of you wildly in love with each other but still figuring out how to express it without feeling hopelessly awkward.

“Hi, angel.” He answers, extending both of his hands towards you.

You grab hold of them and allow him to pull you upwards and into him, and your belly erupts in butterflies as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“You taste like salt.” You say, grinning at him as you pull away.

“I wonder why.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully and pull yourself away from him, turning to look at the other three boys as they make it to your spot.

“I can’t believe we’re at the beach and you haven’t even gotten in the water, Y/n.” Sam says, shaking his head at you as he grabs his towel to dry off. “That’s literally the point of coming to the beach.”

You freeze for a second as you stoop down to grab your book before smoothing over your expression and plastering a smile over your face.

“Maybe I just don’t want to get in the water with you all.” You tell him, turning away as you speak in the hopes that he doesn’t catch the lie. “I’d end up getting hurt with how rough you guys play.”

“Or maybe she has a secret fear of getting wet.” Danny supplies, grabbing his own towel and scrunching up his curls to help dry them.

“That’s why she’s dating Jake.” Josh says through a laugh before shaking his head like a dog and spraying the rest of you with droplets of saltwater.

You turn away from him, trying and failing to protect your book from the water.

“Oops.” He shrugs and gives you a sideways smile – the one he always gives when he knows he’s being a shit.

“Fuck off.” Jake snarks back, shooting Josh the bird and turning to look at you for help.

You laugh lightly, amused despite yourself at Josh’s ability to come up with a joke without missing a beat – and slightly thankful that he’s managed to effectively turn the conversation away from you and your lack of swimming.

“Don’t worry, babe. You get me plenty wet.” You assure your boyfriend, lacing your fingers with his.

Jake’s cheeks flush a bright red and he mumbles out a small, sheepish “thank you.”

“Blech. Gross.” Sam says, breezing past the both of you to walk back towards the beach house that you all had rented.

“Ready?” You ask, turning back to look at Jake.

He nods at you and the rest of you begin to follow Sam back to the house.

Jake falls into step beside you, allowing Josh and Danny to walk in front of the two of you. You walk at a slower pace, falling much farther behind the rest of the group. He’s still holding your hand and the feeling of his fingers interlaced with yours makes your heart flutter.

“You know I wouldn’t let any of them hurt you or anything, right?” Jake asks, voice soft and too quiet for the others to hear.

“Huh?”

“In the water, I mean. You said you didn’t want to swim because of how rough we are.” He clarifies, jerking his head back towards the beach. “If you want to swim, I wouldn’t let them bug you or anything. Or we could come back tomorrow without them.”

You’re silent for a moment, wracking your brains to try and come up with a response. Even after being able to officially call him yours for a few months now, his sweetness still manages to take you off guard sometimes. “Thank you, Jake. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen.” You finally settle on, giving him a smile.

“Do you want to, then? We could come back tomorrow and just swim around – just me and you?” He’s looking at you all hopeful, and a sudden flash of guilt slices through you. You know how much he loves being at the beach and there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he would adore swimming with just the two of you.

“Maybe. I was actually thinking of going into town for some shopping tomorrow, though.” You say, praying that your answer doesn’t disappoint him.

“Oh.” He says, the glimmer in his eyes fading a little bit. “Okay. Maybe another time then.”

Fuck.

You open your mouth to invite him to come with you into town instead but you’re interrupted by Sam yelling from the deck of the beach house.

“Would you two hurry the fuck up! I’m hungry!”

“Coming, Samuel. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Jake calls back, extracting his fingers from yours and jogging up the wooden steps onto the deck, leaving you with nothing but an intense feeling of guilt and shame.

Slowly, you trudge your way up the stairs behind him, signing heavily at yourself.

-⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️-

Dinner was proving to be a loud affair – alcohol and good food making the boys even louder than they usually are (which really is saying something). Jake cooked, looking positively gorgeous as he flipped burgers on the grill.

“That smells so fucking good.” Danny practically moaned, taking a seat in one of the patio chairs.

“Course it does, Danny.” Jake grinned at him, face cocky and cheeks flushed from being out in the sun for so long. “I’m the meat man.”

Sam let out a loud cackle, shaking his head into his drink.

“I don’t think that means what you think it means, brother.” Josh tells him, amusement flickering over his face.

Jake furrows his brows in confusion at him before turning to look at you for support.

Grinning, you just shake your head at him.

“Definitely not what you think it means, babe.”

Once the burgers were finished (Jake had begrudgingly grilled a vegan burger for Sam with only a few protests), the five of you all decided to retire – all of the boys exhausted from their earlier antics down at the beach. As you all said your goodnights, you couldn’t help but notice that Jake seemed a lot more reserved than he had before your earlier conversation. You knew him well enough to know that something was off with him. Though he would never say it, his feelings were definitely a little hurt after you’d declined going down to the beach with him. You know that sooner or later you’ll have to either fess up the truth or come up with a more convincing excuse.

Once you make it to your room, you turn to see Jake gathering his things to go and take a shower. Without thinking – afraid of letting him leave with his feelings still hurt, you blurt out his name.

“Yeah?” He says, looking up from his suitcase.

“I-” You purse your lips, frustrated at yourself for saying something before you’d been able to come up with an excuse,

“Is everything okay, angel?”

You just shake your head, anxiety making the back of your neck feel hot.

“If this is about not wanting to go down to the beach tomorrow, it’s okay.” He says simply, shrugging his shoulders and shooting you a sideways smile. “I can find something to do on my own.” He turns his back to you, making his way towards the bedroom door.

“Jake, stop!” You call – louder than you meant to.

Jake turns back to you, confusion evident on his face at your raised voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You start, and you can feel your cheeks growing hot as your emotions start to get the better of you. You know it’s silly to be so upset – but you’re torn between hurting Jake’s feelings or revealing something that you never wanted to reveal.

“Y/n,” Jake starts, placing his things on the dresser and crossing the room to stand in front of you. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say here. But I promise you it’s okay that you want to do something else.” He assures you, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing lightly.

“I do wanna go!” You insist, clenching your fists in frustration at yourself. “It’s just..”

He raises an eyebrow at you, silently begging you to keep going. Ducking your head to look at your feet rather than at him, you allow your confession to slip past your lips.

“I don’t know how to swim.”

“What?”

You flinch slightly, waves of embarrassment washing over you at the incredulity in his tone.

“You don’t know how to swim?” He says, before giggling softly under his breath.

“It’s not funny.” You say, finally turning up to look at him. You can feel tears threatening to fall and your bottom lip quivers as you fight to hold them back.

“Hey, hey. No.” Jake slides his hands from your shoulders to your waist, holding you softly. “I’m not laughing at you, angel. I’m just laughing because I thought something was really wrong.”

His words do little to soothe your shame and you shake your head and try to pull away from him – but his grip on your waist only tightens.

“Let me go.” You say petulantly, wanting nothing more than to go and sit alone somewhere in your misery.

“No.”

“Jake…” You warn, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “Please let me go.”

“Why?”

“So I can go suffer in peace.”

He chuckles again, sweet and genuine, and you can’t help the smile that wants to grace your lips at the sound.

Jake lets go of your waist but his gaze pins you to the spot for a moment, He’s not looking at you any different than he usually does – only a small bit of amusement lingering on his face.

“You could have told me that a whole lot sooner, ya know?”

You shake your head.

“It’s embarrassing. I mean, who else my age doesn’t know how to swim, Jake?”

“Plenty of people!” Jake says, walking away from you to take a seat on the edge of the bed. He leans backwards, using his arms to brace himself as he leans back. Despite the situation, your eyes still roam his beautiful form – admiring the golden tan of his skin and the way his hair falls across his shoulders.

“Swimming can be intimidating. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You sigh heavily, looking away from him to stare at the wall. You’re not entirely sure what to say and the room lapses into silence for a moment.

“I could teach you.”

Your eyes snap back to him at that, eyeing him warily as he looks at you hopefully.

“What?”

“I could teach you to swim.” He continues, rising from his place to meet you in the middle of the room. “This house has a pool. The rest of the guys are probably asleep. Just you and me.” “I don’t know…” You trail off, biting your lip as your nerves make themselves known. You’ve put off learning to swim for so long that the fear has begun to fester inside of you – becoming much stronger than it used to be.

“I won’t make you if you don’t want to. But the offer’s there. I wouldn’t mind.”

He’s standing in front of you again, hair framing his face and eyes soft. He smells like grill smoke and beach air and you can feel your resolve melting away by the second.

“Okay.” You breathe out, glancing up at him again.

A sweet smile spreads across his face, exposing his perfectly white teeth and making his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Come on, then!” He exclaims excitedly, grabbing a towel from his back and practically skipping to the bedroom door.

“Now?” You ask, heart beginning to pound at just the thought. You were hoping you’d have a bit more time to mentally prepare.

“The guys are asleep.” He starts kindly, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you out of the bedroom. “It’ll literally just be you and me – no chance of any of them coming out to the pool at this hour.”

You follow him down the stairs, shivering slightly as your bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen. Jake pulls open the sliding door for you with a smile, allowing you to step out onto the patio where you all had eaten dinner. The deck wraps around the side of the house and the pool lies in waiting to your right – dark and ominous as the reality of what you’ve agreed to do washes over you.

“Jake…” You start, the dark water in the pool filling you with dread.

“Oh shoot. Hold on.” Jake mutters, before scampering back inside.

You furrow your brows in confusion before the pool is suddenly illuminated, the little lights on the walls coming to life beneath the water.

“Figured doing it in the dark probably isn’t the best place to start.” Jake chuckles, walking back outside to come and stand next to you. He dumps his towel onto the deck before rounding the corner of the pool to the stairs. You watch as he walks down the steps and into the water, hissing slightly as his lower half becomes submerged.

“It’s a little cold.” He says with a sideways smile, fanning his hands out in the water on either side of him. The water on that end doesn’t look too deep, but you can’t help but eye the other end – clearly deeper than the side Jake is in. “Coming?”

You nod, walking slowly over to the steps. You look into the water, clutching both of your hands closely to your chest. You take a step in and immediately the cold makes you want to pull your foot out. But you keep going, wading into the pool to stand next to Jake.

Immediately, both his hands extend in the water to place two solid hands on your waist.

“Hi.” He says with a smile, inclining his head at you slightly. “Not bad so far, right?”

You shake your head slightly.

“This isn’t the scary part.” You remind him, before nodding your head towards the deeper end of the pool.

“Fair enough.” Jake affirms, gripping your hips a little tighter. “Put your hands on my shoulders and just hold on, okay?”

You comply, placing your hands where he told you too. Slowly, Jake leads you both out towards the middle of the pool, only stopping when the water reaches up to your chest.

“Damn.” Jake says with a grin. “Really holding on tight there, angel.”

“Sorry.” You say, realizing how your fingertips had been digging into his shoulders.

Jake giggles softly.

“It’s okay.” He lets go of your waist and brings his hands up to grab your wrists, holding tightly to you as he bobs up and down slightly in the water.

“What now?” You ask, trying to keep your heart rate steady. You glance downwards, eyeing the water warily.

“Keep holding on to my shoulders and I want you to just let your legs relax.” He tells you, adjusting his grip on your wrists. “Just let them float up to the surface.”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of yourself.

“I’ve got you.” He assures you, smiling softly.

Slowly, you allow your body to untense, relaxing your muscles and letting your body float in the water. Keeping your grip on his shoulders, your legs slowly start to float up towards the surface.

“There ya go.” He grins. “Perfect. Now kick your feet.”

You kick your feet half-heartedly in the water, barely causing a splash.

“Harder.” Jake tells you. “Break the surface as much as you can. Sort of like you’re kicking downwards.”

You kick your legs harder, causing the water to splash upwards and spray the both of you.

“Oops.” You laugh, the sound coming out breathy from your nerves.

Both Jake’s hair and your own is now sopping wet – and you’re distracted for a moment by the sight of him. His hair sticks to the side of his face and neck, and you watch, entranced, as a single drop of water makes its way down his cheek and slides down his plush lips.

“That was perfect.” Jake says with a smile, amusement flashing across his face after catching you staring. “Now you just gotta use your arms.”

Your eyes widen slightly.

“So I’ve gotta let go of you, then?” You ask, trying to joke but there’s no real humor in it.

Jake laughs anyway.

“That would make it easier, yeah. I won’t let you drown. I promise.”

“Thanks, babe.” You say, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into your tone. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because you love me.” He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes in response.

“When you let go, I want you to keep kicking your feet under the water. Think about your arms going up and down, too. Kind of like a bird.”

“Like a bird?” You ask doubtfully, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I mean… kinda. Just move them up and down.”

You grumble at him, but slowly let go of his shoulders. He hovers his hands on your waist, helping to keep you afloat as you try and practice the motion.

“I hate this. This is so stupid.” You mutter, feeling like you’ve never been more out of your element in your life.

“That’s the spirit, babe.”

You scowl.

“I’m gonna let go now and you just keep doing what you're doing.”

“What?” You squeak, snapping your gaze to meet his. “Don’t let go!”

“You’ve got this!” He grins, extracting his grip from your waist.

You flail in the water for a moment, arms and legs flapping and kicking around wildly. Eventually, the panic wears off and you calm your movements down, allowing your limbs to move more fluidly in the water.

“Babe!” Jake grins, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re doing it. That’s called treading.”

You can’t help the proud smile that overtakes your face at his praise and you can feel your cheeks heat slightly.

Jake swims farther away from you – going more towards the deep end.

“Swim towards me.” He commands, treading in place.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Kick your feet like earlier and tread with your hands. Simple doggy paddle. Right towards me.”

“Absolutely not.” You tell him, perfectly content to keep treading water where you are. “I’d rather not drown, thanks.”

“Y/n,” Jake starts, sounding like a father speaking to his kid. “Do you really think I’m going to let you drown? You’ve got this. I’m right here.”

You sigh at him.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He says kindly. “Now come over here.”

Begrudgingly, you do as he says – kicking your feet aggressively behind you as you paddle with your hands. Slowly but surely, you make your way over to him.

As soon as you get close, Jake darts his hands out and grabs your shoulders – helping you to float next to him.

“See?” He asks with a grin, eyes sparkling in the dim light, “Not so bad.”

“I still don’t like this.” You mutter, mind half focused still on trying to tread the water next to him.

Slowly, Jake lets go of your shoulders and the two of you just float in the middle of the pool for a moment.

“You’ll get better at it.” He assures.

Just then, you hear a car horn honk in the distance, drawing your attention away from Jake and towards where the sound came from. Seeing nothing, you look back towards your boyfriend only to be met with a face full of chlorine as he splashes you.

“Jake!” You sputter, blinking your eyes to try and clear the water from them. “You fuck head!”

“Oops.” He giggles – the sound so reminiscent of Josh it’s almost like his twin just came down and possessed him for a moment. Sometimes you forget that they’re twins until you’re so starkly reminded.

“What?”

Your bewilderment must have shown on your face.

“Nothing.” You smile at him. “You just sounded exactly like Josh when you did that.”

“Ugh.” He groans, rolling his eyes and swimming away from you slightly. “Don’t tell me I remind you of that loser.”

“Jake, you’re twins. You two are so simila-” You’re cut off once again by a face full of water.

“Those are fighting words, Y/n!” Jake says through a laugh, swimming farther into the pool.

“Come back here, you ass!” You paddle your way towards him, muscles straining to try and keep up with him.

“No!” He giggles, stopping for a moment to splash you again.

This time, you see it coming and splash him first, causing him to sputter and cough as the water fills his mouth.

The two of you descend into laughter as Jake swims away from you again, using his legs to kick water at you. You give chase, splashing him as well as you pursue him.

Eventually too winded to continue, you give up your chase of him and just tread the water again, laughing breathlessly. Jake swims back over to you, his own laughter sounding like music to your ears.

“Does this mean I win?” He asks you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. All you taste is chlorine, but the warmth of his lips pressing to yours fills you with butterflies.

“Nah. Just taking a break for a second.”

Jake’s eyes are pinned to yours, a strange expression spreading over his face. It’s sweet and loving… but there’s something else there too. Pride?

“What?”

He shakes his head at you.

“You learned how to swim.”

“Oh.” You say on an exhale, glancing around to realize that the two of you have come to a stop in the deep end of the pool – the very place that you’d been so afraid of not an hour before. “I guess I did.”

“I’m the best fucking teacher ever.” He says, grinning proudly at you and puffing out his chest.

You roll your eyes but you can’t really argue. You are swimming, all thanks to him and his willingness to be patient and to distract you from your nerves. You realize now that the whole water fight had just been to get you out of your head – something that he’s always been remarkably good at.

“Thank you, Jake.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

----------

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159 notes · View notes

preciouslandmermaid · 2 months

Text

of songbirds, swords, and spice (4)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw/cw: violence, blood, spider-creatures, see master post for complete tags

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

<- (previous chapter)

Zoro stretched his legs out and folded his hands behind his head. Finally, some peace and quiet. Or however much quiet he could get on the Going Merry anyway. He shut his eyes, preparing to get a few hours of sleep before they arrived in Raven’s Crag.

“Mrrow!” Four paws landed on his thigh.

“What the hell?”

The black cat?! Zoro picked the cat up by the scruff and it narrowed its large, yellow eyes at him. A stowaway.

“Aren’t these things bad luck?” He said to no one before moving the fluffy creature off his lap. The cat, who was undeterred and stupidly stubborn, jumped onto his lap again the second he closed his eyes. “Knock it off.”

Zoro scooped it up this time and carried it to the other end of the room, setting it down on a crate, before he returned to his napping spot. The cat swished its tail, watching him, but didn’t move from its new perch.

“Stay over there,” he said. The ocean waves crashed and lapped against the hull of the Going Merry in swelling, gentle surges. He found the sound of the ocean soothing. He could sleep anywhere, it’s true, but there was something about sleeping near water. The crash and surge, the pull and push, the saltwater tinge to the air, and rush of the wind snapping the sails. It created a natural lullaby.

He sighed, tilting his head back, and listening to the waves rather than the cacophony of voices above. Usually, he didn’t have trouble falling asleep, but your voice was new and unfamiliar. He wasn’t sure why the old lady requested that you come along. You were a performer—not a fighter. Just because you managed one battle without vomiting at the sight of a dismembered arm didn’t make you a warrior. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched. What’s her deal anyway? He rolled his shoulders, struggling to get comfortable.

A soft paw batted the side of his head near his earlobe. What the--! The cat’s paw remained aloft – ready to smack his earring again.

Zoro narrowed his eyes. “You again?”

The cat lowered its paw and yawned, showcasing its large canine teeth and angling its ears back. Zoro wasn’t intimidated if that’s what the creature was trying to do. He had a sword. That was more impressive than two big teeth and some claws.

“What do they call you?” He lifted the charm on the cat’s collar. “Mimi?”

The cat gave no indication that it recognized its name.

“You really are bad luck,” he grumbled, “I never have trouble sleeping.” He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Stay,” he told the cat before ascending the steps to the main deck.

The sunlight refracted across the rolling blue waves and Zoro lifted his arm to block the harsh light.

“Can you sing a sea shanty?” Luffy asked you.

“Can you write a song about me?” Usopp asked, looking hopeful. Zoro rolled his eyes...These kids.

Sanji said, “What about a love ballad?”

You crossed your arms and pressed your lips into a line. This silence didn’t deter them. The trio of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp requested different songs simultaneously.

“Would you guys cut it out!” Nami yelled over them, “She already said she doesn’t want to!”

Zoro rested his wrist on Wado Ichimonji and decided he might as well ask the question that’s been eating at him since the night you met.

“Why do the waiters at your grandmother’s bar wear earplugs?” he asked.

Everyone fell silent. Their attention left Zoro and moved toward you, expecting and awaiting your answer. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him. The sails overhead ballooned with a fresh gust of wind and the ropes swung in the breeze casting shadows like long, wiggling snakes on the main deck.

You said, “You noticed that, huh?”

“It was hard to miss.” Zoro deadpanned.

Your smile tugged at your mouth. “And yet I recall having your complete attention.”

Zoro stepped forward. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out,” he said, “so what’s your deal?”

You shrugged, graceful and casual, like you two were discussing sword forms and not the mystery of your grandmother’s bar.

“The bar gets rowdy,” you replied.

“That’s what I said,” Luffy said, his tone was bright.

The bar gets rowdy? Yeah, right. Zoro stared down at you. The sunlight burned radiance across the planes and slopes of your face. She’s lying. You had to be. Your explanation was lukewarm and it didn’t account for the strange, solitary sensations that consumed him during your performance. Your performance and the earplugs had to be related somehow. He just couldn’t figure out how.

Usopp glanced between you and Zoro.

“Come on, guys,” Usopp said, “let’s stay focused. We’re finding a mysterious lost treasure for someone.”

“I’ll make lunch,” Sanji suggested, before saying your name and adding, “I’d love your help in the kitchen.”

“No thanks. I’m gonna stretch my legs,” you announced and offered Usopp and Sanji a smile. “I’ve gotta get used to being out on the sea again.”

Zoro watched you walk to the other end of the ship. She’s not getting off that easily. He waited about three seconds before following after you.

“Hey,” he began, narrowing his eyes at your back. You sighed, leaning against the railing, but didn’t turn around to face him. “If you double cross our crew…”

You looked over your shoulder. “You’re gonna slice me in half?”

Zoro scoffed. “I was thinking in quarters.”

You turned to face him, though your elbows remained on the railing, your pose was relaxed and wholly nonthreatening. Zoro’s pulse throbbed in his neck.

“You have nothing to worry about, Roronoa Zoro.” The salty air played with the collar of your shirt and Zoro looked away, clenching his jaw. “This crew saved the golden cupid...and if we manage to find Pandora’s puzzle box...then there will always be a warm meal and a cold drink for you at Estella’s.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Maybe he was being paranoid after their run-in with the Black Cat pirates or their altercation with Arlo’s gang after Nami’s abrupt betrayal. He didn’t want to get double-crossed, although he couldn’t see the benefit of you – or the old hag – trying to betray them.

“Fine,” he said flatly.

Maybe now I can get some shut-eye…The thought reminded him of the cat, Mimi, stalking around in his room.

“By the way,” he said, “that cat is onboard.”

You laughed. “Oh, of course she is.” You shook your head, “I’ll let Sanji know. Maybe he can make her some tuna.”

“Feeding your cat isn’t part of this deal,” he grumbled, annoyed. First, the cat took over his nap spot and ruined his afternoon and now she’d eat some of their supplies? What sort of bullshit was this?

“One,” you said holding up a finger, “she’s Estella’s cat. Two.” You held up a second finger. “It’s not really up to you, is it? I think I’ll take it up with the chef and see what he says.”

Zoro didn’t have a good argument against you, so he settled on rolling his eyes and returning to his bunk to get some well-deserved rest before the Merry reached Raven’s Crag.

The dingy swayed as it pushed through the shallow waves and your stomach followed the roiling, uncertain motions of the waters below. Something didn’t feel right. You would normally chalk it up to your baseline paranoia around strangers—but...your unease went deeper. Maybe all the stories about Raven’s Crag were getting to you. Everyone on the island said Raven’s Crag was dangerous, some even went so far as to call it cursed. ‘That’s why no one lives there’, they’d say before ordering another drink from the bar. What if something happened to Estella back home? Was paranoia or intuition that twisted your stomach into sailor’s knots? You shook your head and tried to clear your mind. One thing at a time...

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sanji said, sitting beside you and looking pointedly at your bouncing knee. “We’ll find it.”

“If it exists,” you said.

“Madame Estella seemed certain it was here,” he said.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Yes, I know.”

Estella left a rather important detail from her story when she told the Straw Hats about Pandora’s treasure. Over the past five years, it had been you who helped her to find and collect the other boxes. The jade box had been the first and the easiest. You used your devil fruit powers, beguiling the previous owner, and tricking him into giving it to Estella. The onyx box, however, was kept on a marine base within the evidence room under lock and key. You and Estella spent nine months on that island, working your way into the upper echelon of society until General Samuel Bellamy invited several wealthy citizens for brunch. You and Estella had barely made it out after accidentally triggering the alarm when removing Pandora’s box. The last box in her collection, the one made of lapis lazuli, had been underwater in a shipwreck.

Truly, it was a miracle that Estella knew about any of their locations, but that one was especially surprising. You were useless since the ocean sapped all of your strength, but Estella had smiled at you before diving into the waters. Your hands curled into fists on your lap. The current had been strong that day...a storm was on the horizon and the ocean was restless, hungry.

Sanji muttered your name. His gaze burned into your cheek.

“We made it,” Nami announced, shaking you from your reverie.

The tepid saltwater and sand rushed into your shoes and clung to your shins as you leaped from the dingy and helped push the boat onto the shore as best as you could. The palm trees rustled loudly overhead. Your foot snagged against the dry, powdery white sand.

“What’s—” Zoro began one hand on his sword hilt.

“Wait,” you said, snapping your attention from the boat’s edge in your hands and toward the beautiful blue sky. “That’s not—”

Your words were cut off as a hundred screeching calls filled the air and their enormous black wings flapped, upset the palm leaves, and stirred the dry brush at the beachhead. Roughly a dozen, giant ravens descended upon the crew, their beaks open wide to reveal rows of tiny teeth, and their eyes glossy and bright and murderous.

You reached for your kusarigama—a sickle attached to a metal chain with an iron weight at the end — attached to your hip. You hadn’t used the weapon since settling on Nightingale, but you practiced the motions and your continued diligence paid off as you slid into a stance and spun the end of the chain.

A raven opened its’ beak and lunged for Nami, and you launched the weighted end toward the raven. The chain spun around the raven’s beak, closing it, and you tugged—the metal biting into the flesh of your fingers—forcing the beast to bow its head. Nami’s staff cracked the side of the bird’s head and you tugged the chain free, pulling up the slack, after the creature dropped. You could hardly keep track of everyone’s movements through the chaos of undulating black wings and sharp, curved black beaks and curled talons.

Zoro’s sword flashed beneath the sunlight, blood, and dark feathers followed.

Your body ached, familiar with the movements ingrained into the grooves of your muscles, but unfamiliar with fighting things that fought back (your usual enemies were coconut trees and bamboo). You jumped backward through the powdery sand, avoiding a strike of dangerous talons, and you crashed into the hard and warm muscled plane of Zoro’s back.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled before pivoting on his heel and using his sword to deflect the beak strike coming toward you.

“I was.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

“How” – your fingers tightened around the kusarigama’s grip– “do you manage to fight with that sword shoved so far up your—”

Luffy yelled, “Gum Gum Punch!” His fist launched through the air and landed squarely into the raven’s rib cage sending the bird sprawling into the sand.

“I had it!” You and Zoro shouted simultaneously at Luffy.

“Sorry,” Luffy said, smiling before he turned his attention to a different raven. “Hey, Sanji!” The captain called out to him, “Do you think we could eat these?”

“You’re seriously thinking about food at a time like this?” Nami asked.

You shook your head and were unable to ignore the smile tugging at your lips. This crew is so fucking weird, you thought with a foreign flutter of affection. You brought another raven to eye-level by trapping its beak with your chain and Sanji roundhouse kicked it, knocking your chain free, where it seemed to float in the air for a second before you yanked it back toward you.

The final two ravens squawked, and took flight in a blur of sand and wings, leaving their fallen on the beach scattered among the crew. You wrapped the chain, secured your kusarigama at your hip, and flexed your sore, unpracticed fingers. You scanned the beach and pointed at an outcropping of gray rocks.

“That’s the crag,” you said. You looked at their sweaty faces and bit your lip. “Estella could be wrong,” you warned, “the box might not be there.” She had never been wrong before, but they didn’t need to know that.

“We won’t know until we get there,” said Luffy, walking toward the crag. You wiped the sweat from your face and sighed. There is no swaying Luffy from his destined path, is there? You almost admired his bullheaded tenacity. Almost.

Your hands pulsed, your blood throbbing, your knuckles scraped raw, and nails blunted from climbing up onto the crag. You pulled yourself up the final ledge, each breath laborious, and laid yourself flat against the hot stone. Your salivating mouth tasted metallic and unpleasant. Sanji squatted next to you, and his shadow spilled across your face and blocked the sun.

“Here,” he said, offering you a small flask.

“Water or booze?” you asked.

His lips quirked. “Water.”

“Shame.”

You took a small sip of the water before holding it out to him.

Sanji lifted his hand. “Keep it.”

You raised an eyebrow and bit your tongue to stop yourself from questioning or quipping at him. You were starting to understand that Sanji enjoyed providing for others. He cooked because he believed no one should go hungry, but he also had a true and burning passion for it. He gave you water because you needed it. There was no ulterior motive. No secret to unravel. He was just providing for you as he would provide for anyone on the crew. Not that I’m part of this crew, but the sentiment still counts.

“Thanks,” you finally said, standing.

Luffy stood before the great, black maw of a cave’s entrance with his hands on his hips.

“This is the place, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder toward you.

“I think so,” you said. In your experience, Pandora’s treasure box locations increased in difficulty over time: a marine base, a shipwreck, and now deep within a cavernous network. You looked at this crew of oddballs, at the scuffs, bruises, and blood they spilled fighting the ravens and climbing the cliffside. I can do it alone. The warm breeze kissed your skin and the bright blue ocean crested with tiny, white waves along the shore below. I’m the one who Estella trusts. They got me here, but they don’t need to see this through.

“We’ve made it this far together, but you can turn back now,” you said, “I don’t want anyone dying for this.”

Luffy frowned. “Only you?”

Your heart dropped. His stark, honest words had momentarily stunned you.

“What?” you breathed.

“Don’t be stupid,” Zoro muttered, “we just fought a bunch of demon birds. There’s no way we’re turning back now.”

“I think she’s got a point,” Usopp said, “one of us should really be waiting on the ship. I volunteer.”

“It’s dangerous,” Luffy continued as if the others hadn’t spoken, “so you’d rather go in there alone and die alone?”

“It’s a wild goose chase, Luffy.” You crossed your arms.

“It’s her dream!” he said, “don’t you have a dream you want to accomplish?”

“My dream is impossible.” You bristled. Your dream wasn’t a treasure hunt, nor was it to become the best of something or the queen of the pirates. Your dream was a fantasy you repeated to keep your nightmares quiet. Your dream would never see fruition. It just couldn’t.

“There’s no such thing,” Luffy said while approaching you. His hand lifted, palm dropping toward your shoulder, and you moved out of the way at the last second. Luffy stumbled at the sudden lack of counter-balance and you grimaced.

You said, “I don’t like being touched.”

Sanji tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, sorry.” Luffy’s tone was earnest. “Whatever your dream is, I think you should go after it.”

You squinted at him rather than answer his statement.

You said, “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Luffy nodded.

“Me and Nami will guard the entrance in case any more of those birds come back,” Usopp held his slingshot aloft. “We’ll shout if anything happens.”

“Shout loud,” Zoro said as he passed Usopp and entered the cave.

The cave’s cool air was a blessing against your sweaty, sticky skin. You led the crew, even though you didn’t have a map or idea of where the box might be. Estella said ‘Trusting one’s self is the greatest gift’ and you didn’t know if that applied to treasure-hunting, but you decided there was no time like the present to try.

“These caves are odd,” Sanji said, gesturing to the glowing greenish crystals that were embedded into the dark rocks above. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s something with the moon,” you said, watching your shadows play against the stone and crystal walls. “The full moon helps charge them...or so Estella says. She has a book about the caves on Nightingale Island.”

Zoro dug his fingers around one of the lower crystals, yanked it free and it continued to glow in his large hand. He swept his arm across the cavern floor, shining more light on the bits of rubble and dirt, but no treasure box lay waiting for you. His hair brightened beneath the crystals and gave it an almost illusory neon effect.

The cavern curved left, but remained a single, narrow pathway, without any divergences. As odd as that was, since caverns like these usually spilled like a network of threads, you were grateful. You didn’t want to add ‘getting lost in the crystal caves’ to your list of travesties.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” Luffy asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, “Estella needs me to protect her.”

“Did she teach you how to use that chain thing?” He mimed spinning it over his head, as you had done at one point during the battle like the chain was a lasso rope.

You laughed lightly.

“No,” you said, “we spent about nine months on this one island, seeking Pandora’s onyx box, and during that time I trained with a woman named Camilla.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up, emboldened by the viridescent glow of the crystals, and he said, “Cool!” His voice echoed strangely and you stopped suddenly.

“We’re close to something,” you said.

“How do you know?” asked Sanji.

“Our voices sound different here,” Zoro said, sounding bored.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes.

You peered through the muddled darkness tinted by a glowing light. Your heart skipped. Could Estella be right? Was the final box of Pandora’s treasure here? You quickened your pace and followed the path with one hand on your weapon. The crystals sparkled above and mirrored your reflections on their glossy, green surface.

The pathway opened into a cistern with tall glistening edges of slick cave walls, dripping and glowing crystal stalagmites, and shocks of white, thick spider webs running through gaps. Does something live here? You scanned the space.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. At the center of the room was a natural conglomeration of crystals and a bone-white puzzle box nestled at the center, glimmering like a beacon beneath the luminescent light.

You ran forward, kicking aside a bleached-white bone where it went clack-clack-clack into some rocks, and jostled loose golden berry lying around on the ground.

Something grumbled beneath you. No. That wasn’t right. The solid ground gave way, crumbling like a sandcastle devoured by the incoming tide, and your arms windmilled—your scream caught in your throat. The rocks beneath your feet fell to a nest of large, white ropes, and your body tensed—awaiting the inevitable crash and broken bones.

Luffy grabbed your wrist. He pitched into you, the ground unstable, and this time—your scream released—and gravity twisted your body so your spine was to the painful ground below.

“Luffy!” Zoro shouted.

Luffy stretched like saltwater taffy, he clung to your wrists, and both of you dangled above death trap of sharp rocks and rubble. Above, at the very ledge, Zoro’s muscles bulged as he held onto Luffy’s ankles. How is he holding both of us?!

“Climb up,” Luffy said, “climb over me like I’m a rope.” He smiled like this was an ordinary occurrence and you both weren’t a few hundred feet away from certain death.

“I’ll drop,” you said, “I’m closer to the ground. I’ll survive it.”

You glanced at your feet swinging through the empty, dark air. You actually couldn’t tell how close the ground was. The strange, white ropes glowed eerily beneath the muted crystal light, and pockets of it were disturbed and quivering from the fallen rocks. Is that--? Your brow furrowed.

“I can pull you both up,” Zoro announced, his face pinched tight with effort. “Just – just hold on.”

“I already am.” Luffy tightened his grip around your wrists and a wave of nausea coursed through you. Your skin prickled with a clammy, uncomfortable sensation. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, you reminded yourself, using every ounce of self-control not to vomit.

Zoro pulled, grunting as he did, and Luffy’s legs disappeared over the ledge.

Although you couldn’t see Zoro, you heard him shout; “I don’t need your help, stupid cook!”

“I’m not trusting an idiot swordsman with her life,” Sanji yelled, “or with Luffy’s.”

You clenched your eyes shut, squeezing Luffy’s thin wrists, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your fingertips as your heartbeat rushed in your ears and your mouth filled with saliva.

Luffy said your name and your eyes re-opened, “I’m not going to drop you,” he said softly.

He said these words like a stalwart, unwavering promise. He said them in the same way he said ‘I’m going to be king of the pirates’ and despite your past, your ingrained paranoia, and your reasons to distrust him—you believed him, and something sharp prickled behind your eyes.

Luffy’s midsection was yanked over the ledge and Zoro finished pulling the both of you onto the overhanging ledge. As you brushed the cave dirt from your legs, Sanji hunched his shoulders and met your gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine.” You looked toward the chasm that separated Pandora’s box from you. You hadn’t brought rope or grappling hooks and you were ill-prepared to vault or climb onto the other side. “How are we going to get over there?”

Zoro pointed and said, “Hug the wall and maneuver around the chasm.”

Your mouth opened to tell him about the risk, but a sudden scuttling noise drew everyone’s attention to the ceiling.

“My web caught a tasty treat,” it said before lowering itself, a web attached to the crystals hung from its spinnerets. The creature was a human from the waist up, her breasts pale and nippleless, and her straight, long, black hair framed her pale face and six, red slit eyes.

Sanji blanched.

“This is your cavern?” You said. You knew grabbing the box wouldn’t be easy, but a giant spider-woman was extreme.

“My cavern,” she said, tilting her head, “and my food.” She clicked the mandibles on the sides of her jaw.

“Luffy, can you reach the box?” You unclasped your kusarigama and extended the chain between your hands.

Luffy cracked his knuckles. “I want to fight this thing.”

“I’ll get the box,” Sanji said, “I don’t fight women.”

He inched closer to the walls which had narrow ledges to precariously climb across. Your heart fell into your shoes. Sanji...You recalled the smiling, overjoyed faces of the children from the orphanage after Sanji made them breakfast, his fond and thoughtful expression when he talked about Zeff, his kindness in the kitchen, and his concerned gaze when Zoro pulled you and Luffy from the ledge. You couldn’t let him risk his life for Estella’s dream. You couldn’t. He’s going to fall if he tries to get it.

Zoro scoffed. “She’s not a woman.”

“I am Arachne,” the creature said.

“Sanji, wait—” you said.

The Arachne swung from her webbing towards the group. A warm, large muscled body collided with yours, sending you sideways into rubble and rock. Your skin smarted and burned where it hit the stones and jagged crystals. You blinked, stunned, as your mind lagged to piece together the details.

Zoro rolled off of you, blade drawn, and jumped to his feet. He saved me? You understood his earlier rescue because Luffy had been involved. He wouldn’t let his captain die—he was protective of him, cared about him even. But saving you didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense. Pirates weren’t loyal to people who weren’t their crew. You shook your head. Roronoa Zoro had saved your life twice. You adjusted your grip on the hilt of your kusarigama.

Time to repay the favor, you thought before charging the Arachne. You slid on your knees, ignoring the pain as the tiny rocks dug into your skin, and ducked beneath the creature’s large, hairy legs. Your chain whipped out, wrapping one leg at the joint before you rolled out from beneath her and jerked the chain over your shoulder for leverage.

The Arachne screeched in indignation, wobbling, although she remained steady on her other legs.

“Hold it steady,” Zoro shouted as his sword flashed in a quick, upward arc as he ran beneath the tied-up leg.

You stumbled forward as the leg was dismembered from its body and flung off in another direction.

The Arachne hissed, scrambling up the wall, and toward the ceiling. You spun your kusarigama, feeling safer with the weight in your hands, and the glowing steel beneath the crystalline fragments.

“Hey!” Luffy yelled, “where are you going?”

You spared a glance to Sanji. He was about halfway, his arms spread akimbo, his back to the wall and his feet crossing carefully over the ridge.

Luffy’s hands shot toward the Arachne and grabbed its rear legs, pulling her back, and the Arachne fired several sticky ropes of webbing at Luffy. He jumped, dodging the first splatter of webbing with impressive speed, and used his momentum to launch himself toward the Arachne.

Luffy landed on her back. They were halfway up the wall, closer to the ceiling than the floor, and your palms dampened as your adrenaline transmuted to fear. What if he falls? You weren’t sure if his Gum-Gum powers made him invincible to gravity and you didn’t want to find out.

You shouted, “Luffy, be careful!”

It’s part human, you worried your lip between your teeth, by that logic, my devil fruit powers should work on it. However, Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro weren’t safe. They didn’t have earplugs or headphones. You couldn’t risk using your voice on the Arachne and hurting them and you didn’t want to distract Sanji from his treacherous and focused climb to Pandora’s box.

Luffy wrestled with the creature, his legs were wrapped around the Arachne’s torso, and his fists moved too fast for your eyes to follow.

Zoro snapped your name and followed with, “Give me a boost.” His eyes were above, focused on Luffy, his green hair hidden by a black bandanna.

“You can’t reach him,” you said, interlacing your fingers, lowering yourself into a crouch, and bracing your back against the cavern’s wall.

Zoro said nothing and smirked. He ran toward you, planting his foot in your cupped hands, before launching himself up towards Arachne and Luffy. His boot scuffed against the wall and he grabbed the hanging webbing that swung from the Arachne. The creature slid downward but remained on the vertical wall. Her balance was affected by Luffy’s attacks and the weight of Zoro on her ‘tail’.

His muscles strained as he climbed the web, shedding pieces of webbing that fell like strange, spindly fluffs of white.

Sanji called your name and you looked. He held the box above his head, victorious and smiling, and your heart swelled. All this trouble for such a small thing, you thought.

“That’s mine!” The Arachne hissed, her face gushed blood, and half of her eyes were swollen shut from Luffy’s onslaught.

She reared back, bucking Luffy from her, and scuttled downward carrying Zoro with her. Luffy landed as a heap of limbs next to you, but his head popped back up, a little dazed but otherwise okay.

The Arachne’s intention was clear. She meant to attack Sanji—to punish him for stealing. Well, you weren’t going to let that happen. You planted your feet, your eyes narrowed and focused on the angles, the speed of her long, spider-legs, and the shape of her long, pale neck.

Kusarigama flew from your hand, its’ sickle-side cut through the air, and the cold chain unraveled through your fingers. The sickle zipped past her head and you tugged the chain, quick and forced, and the blade reversed direction and its’ curved edge sliced clean through her neck. A second passed. The Arachne’s head seemed to float through the air as it was rendered from her body with an arching spray of crimson that appeared black in the verdant pale light of the cave.

Her head hit the ground with a soft and rolling ‘thump’.

“That went well,” you said, breaking the silence, and a hysteric smile threatened to take hold of your lips. None of the children are going to believe this.

“Do you think anyone will believe that we fought a giant spider-lady?” asked Luffy.

Sanji said, “It’s no less believable than defeating Arlong’s crew.”

Your eyebrows raised. “You beat Arlong?” You thought Usopp had been lying when he shared that story.

Zoro sheathed his sword. “It was easy.”

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Luffy said before smiling, though you assumed the question was rhetorical and didn’t answer him. You nudged the Arachne’s head with your foot and it rolled off the ledge and into the darkness below. It was eerie how easily you slipped into this crew’s dynamic. You didn’t fit in with them—you didn’t, but you could. And that was the scary part. However, you wouldn’t entertain ideas or dreams of leaving Nightingale Island. Your place was next to Estella and your future and fate were tied to hers.

You owed her after everything she did for you, after everything you’ve gone through together. No matter how easy it was to fight alongside the Straw Hats—you had your place in this world and it wasn’t with these pirates.

(author's note:

I'm sorry this took a while to post. I hope the length makes up for it <3 also happy belated birthday to Sanji !! xoxo )

#one piece fanfiction #reader insert #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x sanji #sanzoro #zoro x sanji x reader #zoro x sanji x you #sanji x zoro x reader #ot3 #opla fanfic #one piece live action fanfic #wip

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