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thelittlestoflives · 2 months

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Thank You

soooo i sort of have a whole backstory to the Unravelling the Mystery fic and i just thought welllll i might as well post that too lol!! (i actually have lots of parts and stories)

again, very new to fic writing and i've thrown in some y/n lore in there too!! it's so vulnerable and scary to post stuff you've written (again i suck at proofreading so forgive pls)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

sanji x strawhat!reader, or the story of how y/n became a strawhat and gravitated towards the chef

use of YN, afab reader

cw: stuff to do with horrible exes, forced eating of a devil fruit, being severely injured, slight angst to fluff but mostly fluff i think

wc: 2.7k

It was like a ritual. The breathing in the room evening out, slipping out from under the covers and creeping through the halls towards him. His arms were your salvation, every gentle kiss burning your skin with love, each touch so heavenly you could almost believe in a higher power.

You can barely remember how it began. It's like it's just always been this way.

But it wasn't.

Not when you were stuffed in that barrel, just you and the darkness and the splashing of the waves against the wood, the drip drip drip onto your already soaking clothes. You can't remember how you survived it, how you endured the minutes and the hours and the days you remained in there, physical wounds nowhere near the pain of the scarring on your soul.

And like words out of the holy texts, there was light. A piercing, bright light. But unlike the holy texts, soft mutters echoed in your ears.

"Shit. It's a girl."

"Dammit. So, it's not treasure?"

"She's injured."

"How long has she been in there?"

"Why does this always happen to us?"

“Get her out of there, for fuck’s sake! Why are you all just standing around?!”

Just like that, the light vanished and darkness returned.

When you came to you were in some sort of medical infirmary, the light streaming through the windows so intense that you could barely open your eyes. An assortment of smells hit your nose; disinfectant, bleach, salty sea air, and a bowl of rich chicken noodle soup that steamed as it sat on your bedside table.

Maybe that's when it started. The soup. You stared at it for god knows how long, tears streaming down your face at the act of kindness. The trauma of what you'd just been through vanished staring at that bowl, feeling the love of whoever made it poured into it. Your body had been wrapped in bandages and cleaned, and you wore soft pyjamas that weren't your own, your hair had been brushed, and someone had made you fucking chicken noodle soup.

A couple of days went by as your body slowly healed. The only interaction you had was with the ship's doctor as he tried to make you feel comfortable and safe. You didn't see any of the other crew, but each time you woke from a restless, haunted sleep, there was a steaming dish beside you. Before long, you were strong enough to walk around. Chopper held your hand as he led you above deck to meet the crew who sat around the kitchen table.

You felt shy and nervous. Sure, you'd spoken to pirates before, but always in a controlled environment, never on their turf.

But they were vastly different from the pirates you'd encountered, offering easy smiles and gentle words, coaxing you to tell them what had happened to you. You caught eyes with a man with a cigarette hanging casually out his mouth a couple of times, quickly looking away. Was this where it started?

You explained that you're a journalist on your home island. Or rather, were a journalist. Now? You were dust in the wind, not taking any sort of discernable shape, floating with no direction, no intention, nothing. You thought you had it all; a home, a job you loved, family, friends, and someone who you thought was the love of your life. In less than a week, it was gone.

You had been investigating a cult on your island and stumbled across a giant conspiracy involving the World Government. You had written a tell-all piece, ready to blow the whole damn thing wide open. But you made a mistake, you told your then-boyfriend about it. Turns out he wasn't who he said he was, he was one of them. Sent to keep an eye on the local journalists, he’d pretended to fall for you to keep you close. The cult that terrorised truth seekers from the shadowy underworld was an unstoppable and dangerous force and he was one of them.

They'd captured you, and when the darkness was lifted there was no heavenly bright light. Just a dank basement dimly lighting up your boyfriend's face, grinning from ear to ear as he told you in laborious detail what was about to happen to you. You would eat a Devil Fruit, they would drug you, and you would be forced to do their bidding. No choice, no control, this was it. They’d already done this to every other person who had been investigating them. They had a small army now, he informed you. An army of ‘nosey bastards who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into’. Despite your pleading, he laughed and said that you better get ready for what’s about to happen.

And so they did it. They had it all figured out. They forced you to eat the Devil Fruit, and as its powers flowed through your veins you realised that perhaps they didn’t have it all figured out after all. They didn’t account for the fact that you would be damned rather than be bested by a man.

Your powers erupted out of you, flowing with such a force that all you could do was let out a silent scream, as the shadows wrapped themselves around the foundations of the building they held you in and it collapsed into rubble.

An arm roughly grabbed you, pulling you out of the wreckage. It had stuffed you in a barrel, and an unfamiliar voice hissed the words: “It’s better if they think you’re dead. If you survive, never return.”

As soon as the last word of your tale left your mouth, a straw hat was placed on your head, and that’s how Luffy obtained another stray to add to his collection. You became the Strawhats’ Chronicler, your job was to forever immortalise the crew’s journey towards the One Piece and to document how Luffy became the King of the Pirates. Although it was a difficult adjustment at first, you became fast friends with the crew. Robin in particular was a huge help for you, as it was she who understood your plight the best.

Sanji kept his distance at first. You were so beautiful that he knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from flirting, and that was probably the last thing you needed right now, so he resigned himself to being helpful in the background, finding out information about you from Robin and Nami and incorporating it into his cooking. But the two of you were like magnets, unexplainably drawn to one another and soon neither of you would be able to stay away.

You were ripped from your nightmare with such force that you shot upright, sweat dripping down your back. It was the same as always, but tonight you didn’t want to wake up Robin with your tears.

And that’s how you found yourself in the kitchen, face-to-face with a certain chef. He tried not to make a fuss as he saw your hunched, small frame in the doorway, tear-stained cheeks and sleepy eyes. Really, he did. But he’s only a man, after all. He gave you a warm hug and sat you down, making his own special sleepy tea (“I promise you, you will be knocked out after this. No bad dreams for our sweet Chronicler!”).

“I meant to say thank you,” you said quietly as you sipped your tea.

He arched an eyebrow, a gentle blush on his cheeks. “For?”

“The food. When I was in the infirmary, your food made me feel…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed.

“Made you feel what?”

You look up at him, an amused expression on his face.

“Your chicken noodle soup made me cry,” you admit softly. “It was the first thing I saw when I woke up, and it’s my comfort food. And I cried. I was so touched that I forgot everything else. I can’t thank you enough for that. I could’ve lost my mind, but that small act grounded me.”

The blush was no longer gentle but furious as his eyes diverted from your face. “Ah. Well, it’s an honour to cook for a pretty girl like you, and even more so that it makes you feel something. So really, I should thank you for your high praises.”

Your mouth twitched into a smile. “No, thank you!”

His mouth echoed yours. “No, no, thank you!”

And you continued like that, thanking each other more and more dramatically through laughs. The silliness wore off, and Sanji’s face turned slightly more serious.

“Look, I wanted to say something to you too,” he began. “I’m sorry that your ex betrayed you like that. No beautiful lady should ever have to suffer at the hands of a man, much less a man who should love her.”

You blink, suddenly remembering why it was you were here in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you say with a small shrug. “Well, no, it’s not okay but… I dunno. What else can I say? ‘My ex gave me up to an evil cult and altered my life forever and because of him my family think I’m dead and I didn’t even get the t-shirt’? I appreciate that though. I appreciate all of you.”

He blew air out of his nose softly as you tried to make light of what was clearly a horrific situation.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.” “Thank you, Sanji, same goes for you,” you smile.

He grins back. “No, no, no. Thank you!”

You laugh and lightly hit his arm. “Cut it out or we’ll be here all night!”

His grin widens. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to do.”

And maybe that’s where it starts. Those late nights in the kitchen when you both couldn’t sleep, sharing easy conversations and trying to make the other laugh. Warm mugs of tea and knees touching each other under the table. A bubble you created with just the two of you, a sacred space, with none the wiser as to these secret meetings of yours.

It would become routine for a couple of weeks. The nightmares jolt you awake, so you pad through to the kitchen for tea, smiles, and chats.

“You know, I reckon you’re the beating heart of this crew,” you say as you blow on your tea to cool it down.

Sanji scoffs in derision.

“No, I’m serious! If Luffy is the soul, then you’re the heart. I see everything you do for the crew, Sanj. You’ve got a kind soul.”

You wished you could frame the look on his face to cherish forever. A mix of gratitude, embarrassment, confusion, denial, and something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

“In saying that,” you continue, sipping on the now-cool beverage. “You look tired. If you’re looking after everyone else, who’s looking after you?”

He froze.

Your eyes are trained on his. “Look, there’s a reason we’re both here in the dead of night. You can’t sleep either, can you?”

He looks down.

“Let me in, Sanj. Let me look after you.”

And he does. He tells you everything, and now the bond runs so deep you’re afraid. After all, the last person you fell in love with lied about it and broke your heart. You couldn’t take much more. But this was different, somehow.

Maybe it started the first night you slept in his arms.

It was just a normal night. As usual, a nightmare ripped you from sleep. It was a particularly bad one this time, your cheeks wet with tears as you made your way to the kitchen. But when you got there, the lights were off. Panic clawed up through your chest. You’d come to rely upon the chef in the dead of night, and now that he wasn’t here, you were scared to face your demons alone. So, fuck it, you thought. I’ll just go to him.

The men’s quarters were loud. Zoro’s snores cracked through the room, and general grunts and smells and sleepy noises were prevalent, but it didn’t matter. He was there, and he would make you feel okay again.

And once you’d crawled in beside him, and his arms automatically wrapped around you, you knew that there was no going back. You woke up in your own bed, having slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

That night when you met in the kitchen, there was a slight awkwardness that hadn’t been there before.

He cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, did you sleep okay last night?”

“I did. Best I have in a while, really. I’m so sorry if I overstepped or-”

“No! No, I’m sorry for not being here at our usual time-”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Thank you for-”

You both stopped and he cleared his throat again, cheeks bright red.

“Well, honestly? That’s the best I’ve slept in a while too. So, thanks. And I…” He paused as if building up some courage. “I wondered if you would maybe want to… Do it again sometime. But, you don’t have to and I don’t want you to feel like I’m coming on to you because I know you don’t want, like, romance or anything because of the situation with your ex and-” He began to ramble anxiously, bringing a small smile to your lips.

“Sanji, Sanji, stop! It’s okay! I… I would like that a lot. And so thank you.”

He stopped blabbering and clasped his hands together. “Really?” There was a sparkle in his eyes.

“Really,” you nodded.

You both built a little routine together. If Sanji wasn’t already in the kitchen, then you’d go to him. Otherwise, you’d meet in the kitchen for your cup of tea, before retiring to his hammock in the men’s quarters. The noises of the sleeping crew around you didn’t bother you at all as you lay entwined in Sanji’s long arms.

One night, you made your way into the kitchen and stopped quietly in the doorway. Sanji had fallen asleep at the table waiting for you. You took in his sleeping figure, the way his sleep shirt clung to his arms and revealed some of his chest. His face was relaxed and peaceful, and god, was it beautiful. Shit, you thought. I’m in way too deep now.

You gently woke him up, and the look in his eyes when he saw your face sent your stomach dropping and mind shortcircuiting.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

You nodded. “It’s me, Sanj. Let’s go to bed, hmm?”

He had that look on his face again, the one from before when you couldn’t figure it out. But now? Now you knew what it was. It was love. It was adoration. It was ‘you’re my comfort, my safety, you feel like home and I’m at peace’. He stood up and pulled you to his chest, groaning softly as he rested his chin on top of your head. You looked up at him, fondness in your eyes.

“Sanj?” You whispered.

“Yes, my darling YN?” His sleepy voice and eyes were too much. You stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a soft, swift kiss to his lips.

He stiffened, eyes wide.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

You nodded.

His face brightened and burst into a lovesick grin, one hand settling at your waist, the other snaking up to hold the back of your head. He nudged his nose against yours as your lips met, the world melting around you both. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I want to promise something to you right now,” he murmured. “I promise to protect you, to keep you safe, I promise I will never do anything that could possibly hurt you, and I will hunt down anyone who does. Thank you, YN, for showing me what love could be.”

“No, Sanj… Thank you for showing me.”

His eyes were brimming with tears too, but he laughed softly, unable to resist the urge to say:

“No, no. Thank you.”

And with that, you went to the safety of Sanji’s hammock, entangled with one another as you pressed burning kisses to each others’ skin, his heavenly touch making you forget what life was like without him. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you know this will never end.

#one piece #sanji oneshot #sanji drabble #sanji x reader #sanji x yn #sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x you #sanji x you #op x reader #one piece x reader #strawhat reader #vinsmoke sanji x yn #vinsmoke sanji #my writing

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sporadicthingcollection · 6 months

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Eppur è d'uopo, sforzati! (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which a stork arrives early, Buggy has a rough day, and you get what you deserve. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Clean. Word Count: ~1.5k. Warnings: Pregnancy, childbirth, exploitation of a Devil Fruit power. A/N: good news is that i'm not ovulating anymore bad news is that i got a mental image in my head that wouldn't go away so i'm subjecting you guys to it too. also, this buggy has more of the anime version in him, so just a heads up!

---

It was a power move, plain and simple. Boa Hancock, Warlord of the Sea, refusing to negotiate with anyone away from Amazon Lily. And Buggy, having drawn the short straw, gets ordered under threat of revocation of his title to go do it.

So not only does he have to brave Sea Kings in the Calm Belt, he doesn't even get to go ashore when he gets there. No, he has to send the female crew to deal with it.

And, to make matters worse, you insisted upon going with them. You, with swollen ankles and an aching back. You, waddling around and damn near ready to pop. You, eight and half months pregnant with not just any child, but his child.

How could you be so callous and cruel to him like this? Where do you get off on tormenting him with the knowledge that, if something happens, he won’t be able to get to you? It’s pure sadism is what it is, and he’s wearing a rut in the deck trying to get his mind off of it.

A distant scream splits the air.

Your scream.

---

Nine months. Babies come out at nine months. That's how it's always been, that’s how it always will be.

So then why, oh why, does this little asshole decide to pop out at eight and a half?

A wave of pain wracks you. You double over in your chair.

You suppose you're lucky. You’re in a palace in a private room with a bed, a tub of warm water, anything you could possibly need. The midwife, Cassandra, has gentle hands and comforting words. Dozens of women show up to fuss over you and encourage you, a number of them mothers themselves. Dahlia brings food, Gloriosa sings songs, Marguerite and Sandersonia hold your hands when the contractions get worse.

Even the Pirate Empress herself pays the occasional visit, albeit under the excuse to scold you for making a ridiculous amount of noise. But she always lingers with a curious gaze, and commands that more bedding be brought or that “I must be prepared for when I bear the child of my beloved,” whatever the hell that means.

Too bad they don’t have any morphine.

---

The only thing stopping Buggy from collapsing into a million parts is that he has completely locked up. He cannot move his head, his fingers, his eyes, everything is frozen stiff.

Fortunately for him, Galdino asks the question for him. “She’s what?”

“I just told you: in labor.” Alvida is way too calm. She dusts her coat, adjusts her hat, buffs out a scuff on her fingernails. “Her water broke right in the middle of the discussion. Three hours of political maneuvering, wasted.”

“I think we got it sorted, though.” The strongwoman shakes her head. “Poor gal. Of all the dumb luck.”

Another scream rips the air. Everyone flinches.

It cuts through Buggy like a knife through... well, himself. He gets his senses back and only one thing consumes his mind.

He vaults over the side of the ship. Kuja laws be damned, he needs to get to you, even if he has to swim for it. Before you get hurt. Or killed. Or worse.

He only realizes the mistake he’s made when he hits the water.

---

You blink in disbelief. “It’s what?”

“Upside-down,” Cassandra says. She adjusts her glasses. “If my intuition is correct, it’s coming out rear end first.”

Breech birth. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Your grandmother was a breech, your mother was a breech, your niece was a breech... Breeches all the way down in your family.

And, considering its father, of course the little fucker’s an acrobat.

You groan and fall backwards. Part of you is glad he’s not here. You’d strangle him. The other part wishes he was here. So you could strangle him. And rip his balls off. Hell, you might just do that anyways. DIY orchiectomy.

A contraction wracks you and you yelp.

---

What do you do with a distraught sailor, when the sun is highest?

Hold him back from swimming to the island. He’ll kick and thrash and escape all three of the strongmen and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will have to jump in and fish him out.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the evening?

Lock him up in a cage with Richie. He’ll cut himself to ribbons and slip through the bars and sneak past everyone on deck and throw himself overboard and Cabaji, having just finally gotten himself into dry clothes, will have to take another dip.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, at the witching hour?

Clamp him to the mast with Seastone handcuffs. He’ll pick up a nail on deck and pick the lock and outrun everyone trying to catch him and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will make Mohji jump in this time because he’s getting really sick of this bullshit.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the morning?

Hack off his hands and arms and noggin, throw the Seastone cuffs on his ankles, tie his torso to the mast, stuff his own bandanna in his mouth, then post up guards.

Even gagged, Buggy’s screams rival yours.

---

Just when you’re ready to give up the ghost and will yourself into unconscious bliss, you feel it. Something gives. Then something else. With one mighty push, one mighty curse, and one mighty splat, your child is born.

The baby howls like a beast. You suppose you’d be screaming too if you were covered in shit and viscera and had a full head of hair.

You want to hold it. You need to hold it. "Give-- Gimme it," you sputter.

Cassandra, hands it to you. "A boy," she says.

You’re ashamed to be a little disappointed. Based on the talk, you were hoping for a girl. But it all fades as you hold him in your arms and bring him to your chest, overwhelmed by a tide of hormones and emotion.

He’s a little funny-looking, with his pink skin and little stretched face and his legs at weird angles. But he’s here. A baby. Your baby. Buggy’s baby.

You start to sob.

---

Buggy is once again frozen stiff. He wants nothing more than to help you back aboard, hold your hand as you step over the railing, and escort you to his cabin. It would be the absolute least he could do.

But no. He’s stuck up here on the quarterdeck, doing even less than that. He watches as you make your way up the stairs, clutching a bundle wrapped in a floral-patterned blanket. Dark circles ring your eyes and your gait is stiff and exhausted.

Say something. Anything. “You look like hell,” he says. Goddammit.

Fortunately for him, you huff in amusement. “I’ve certainly been through hell.” You stand closer and angle the bundle towards him. “Wanna see what I found there?”

His hand hovers over the corner of the blanket. What if it’s dead? What if it’s got a dog’s face? What if its hair is red? What if it’s got its father’s--?

“Just look, Buggy,” you scold.

He swallows. He pulls back the corner.

Nestled in the blankets, blinking in the light, is a miniature you. A head full of thick dark hair, already starting to curl at the ends. Dark eyes, peering at him the same way you do. And, right in the middle of its chubby little face, your delicately curved nose.

Heat fills his belly with smoke. He recognizes this emotion. It’s the same one as when he sees someone waving around a treasure map. When he spies a chest overflowing with gold. When he first laid eyes on you.

He can hardly hear his own voice. “She’s gorgeous.”

“He,” you say. Buggy looks at you. You smile. “He’s a boy.”

A boy. A boy. His boy. Your boy. He has a son. You gave him a son.

The smoke catches fire and sets his whole body alight. He snatches the baby -- his son! -- from your arms and holds him -- his son! -- up high, presenting him -- his son! -- to the assembled crew like a boxer holding up a champion belt.

He shouts, bellows, screams for the whole world to hear: “I have a son!”

A cacophony of cheers goes up from every man and woman on the deck and, for a few moments, everything is right in the world. Mohji throws his arms around Cabaji. The strongwoman picks up Galdino and spins him around. Alvida smiles as she leans against her mace. Richie roars. Even the Kuja who escorted you back whoop.

Wait a damn minute. You did all the work. You made his son. You pushed him out. All he did was be in the right place at the right time with a bad pullout game.

He places the baby back in your arms and sweeps you into his own, separating his trunk from his legs to raise you up even higher. He wants to shout something eloquent, an ode to your strength and beauty, a paean to your power, a declaration that you are the greatest treasure he’s ever stolen.

But all that comes out, through snot and tears that he didn’t even realize were flowing, is a garbled, blubbered, “I love this woman!”

The cheers only grow, joined by your clattery laughter.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown #keeda the clown

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the-kr8tor · 3 months

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Go by the Board

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW violence, CW injury, TW blood, TW death, CW needles.

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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

The bandages around your wrists itch, you try not to scratch the annoying feeling away knowing infection on a ship could be deadly for you. Frozen in a fetal position, your legs tucked under the dust covered blankets, you focus on the locked door, the silver pendant hanging on the doorknob sways as the boat rocks in the wild waves.

You've only slept for a few hours following what you've witnessed, the sailor's screams still echo in your mind, clawing and gnawing at your skull. You try not to think about it, pushing the image of him writhing on the blood soaked floorboards.

Maybe it's better if you don't think about it, ever. Scrubbing it from your mind, you exhale a shaky breath, fingers twitching to scratch that annoying itch.

Why is it so fucking itchy? Your nose itches. Why does everything in this damned room smell old? The small cabin seems to swallow you whole as you lay on the unusually soft mattress. You twist and turn, kicking the blankets away in frustration. Your head pounds from the oncoming headache.

Gritting your teeth, you hear gasps and pained yells from outside. There's something dragging under the sound of curses. You sit up, your eyes feel heavy, it seems like your brain is trying to escape from you. You don't blame it.

You do your best at trying to look normal, well normal for someone who hasn't slept for more than four hours for two days straight. Straightening your back, the noises stop right at your door.

There's shuffling then the clinking of keys, the door bursts open, a man stumbles inside, landing harshly on his face. You recognize the navy lieutenant, his hands and feet bound. His once pristine uniform slashed and dirtied with drying blood. His shiny medals are nowhere to be found.

You lift your feet up on the bed, shielding yourself, wide eyes staring at the captain who looks worse than you. Hobie's still wearing the exact same clothes he wore during the battle, cotton shirt marred by crimson and tattered at the seams, his eyes are bloodshot, the storm still raging inside. There's a large slash by his collar bone that's only been remedied by a hastily put bandage.

Gwen follows right behind him, equally tired and bloodied. Her face is flat, emotion unreadable. She holds a blunderbuss to the captive’s head.

“Now, do you know her?” Hobie speaks up above the silence. Your heart skips a beat after mentioning you. “Don't keep us waiting, George. We haven't got all day.”

The navy man props himself up slowly and painfully, his joints creak, wounds opening. He looks at you through one eye, blood and bruises obscuring his vision.

He inhales scratchily, you suspect his lungs have collapsed. He chuckles and you could only look back towards Gwen who secretly shakes her head at you.

The captive laughs louder and louder, like he's lost his damn mind. “I think I know who this room belonged to, you fuckin’ snake!” he sing songs.

Gwen pushes the barrel closer to his temple, he pauses for a moment before cackling again. Hobie's knuckles tighten but his face remains indecipherable.

“Did you think bringing me here will get me to talk about what happened that day?” He makes it his mission to rile Hobie up, he's given up.

“Or are you showing me her replacement?” His eyes slither over to you, cackling more and more as his eyes roam your body.

“Enough,” Gwen finally speaks, pushing the barrel painfully close to his skin. “He asked you a question”

“You've already gotten what you need from me you fuckin' barbarians!”

Hobie closes the distance, “And we need more from you.” he bends at the waist to forcefully move the man's face towards you. “Do you know her?”

The beaten man smirked evilly, bloodied smile tempting you to hit him. He tilts his head, “Aye,” alarm bells start ringing in your head.

“The captain sent her as a spy, just look at her,” he side eyes Hobie who stares at you with his stormy eyes. “Quite a siren, huh? Were you captivated, eh ‘captain’?”

You could only look at Hobie through tearfilled eyes, pleading silently. You want to live but your mouth has clamped shut, your entire body is frozen, preventing you from laying your case.

After a minute of listening to the man praise you for your supposed work, Hobie yanks him away when George gets too close to you.

“Good on you for confirming our suspicions.” Your heart drops to your stomach. “But the details you've given us don't quite match up with what she's told us.” Hobie clicks his tongue, “I think you need to sing more for us, Georgie.”

The man's smile drops, he swallows thickly.

“Take him below.” The captain says as he reels in his anger.

Finn appears from the doorway, immediately taking the prisoner by the collar, dragging him further down the hallway, while he kicks and squirms to no avail. Gwen follows, sparing you a quick nod. She shuts the door behind her, the clicking sounds like a death knell specifically for you.

The soft lapping of the waves doesn't ease your nerves, it acts as a countdown with every hit to the side of the ship. The seagulls squawk loudly just outside your window, they're annoying but at least they're free.

After a minute of quiet and Hobie's eyes roaming around the small cabin, you hear him thud against the door. This is it, you think, picturing him taking out his cutlass to sever your head from your shoulders. Or maybe he's a gentleman, preferring to off you quick and painless with his blunderbuss.

Instead of the loud booming sound of a gun going off, you hear his voice. “What happened to your fire?”

“I'm too tired to keep it lit.” you bravely look up, he leans on the door, his shoulders and face relaxed, back slouched, knuckles bloody and broken. “Are you going to bring me below too or are you gonna end me right here?”

He frowns, “Why would I do that?”

“Because he just told you—”

Hobie sighs, you fall silent. The lines of his face are prominent as the sun rises once again. The light from the window hits him just right, bathing him in soft yellow. He closes his eyes like he's savouring the warmth.

“Men like him will do anything to bring someone else down with him.” He opens his grey eyes, the storm has calmed down behind it. “He knows he's lost.”

“You tied me up. Locked me up.”

“I know, it was for the better until I truly know you're not one of them. You're alive aren't you? Do you want me to apologize?”

“No, fuck you. I want you to thank me for saving your first mate.”

He chuckles lowly, “There it is, keep that fire yeah?”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Sleep, you can have this cabin in the meantime.”

You glare at him, not trusting his own words.

“Here,” Hobie tosses a key at you. “my olive branch. Rest, trust me once everyone wakes from their poppy filled haze you're gonna wish you've slept.”

You hold the key in between your fingers, familiarizing yourself with the indents. “What?”

“Mend their wounds, doc. Prove your worth.” He turns to leave. “Do keep the place clean, yeah?”

You shakily stand up, locking the door behind him. Barely making it back to bed, you collapse, sleep taking you in its embrace.

—

You wake up to loud frantic knocking on your door. With a groan and sleep laden eyes, you reluctantly open the door.

Miles greets you, his smile not reaching fully to his tired eyes. “Finally! You sleep like the dead you know?”

“What's happening? Are we getting attacked again?” Your eyes roam across the cramped hallway.

“I hope not, they need you at the infirmary.”

“The ship has an infirmary?”

Following Miles through the halls and numerous stairs, you make unusual small talk.

“So…did Hobie tell you that I'm not a traitor?”

Miles stops in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Don't say the ‘T word’ around here or” he steps closer to whisper. You listen with trepidation. “or saving Gwen won't be enough for you to stay.” he looks around for a sign that someone else is listening.

“Why can't I say the ‘T word’? Did something happen back then?”

“Can you not?” He grimaces. “You can literally ask me anything else other than that.”

“Right, sorry.” You two continue to walk. “Who's MJ?”

Miles groans in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“What?! You said anything but that.”

“Alright, smart ass, anything but those two. Learn to read the room, jeez!” he shakes his head.

“Fine! How'd a kid like you end up here then? Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm?” you rile him up. This is the most fun you've had in days, anything to get rid of the thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Don’t call me kid, landlubber. If you hadn't saved Gwen back then I would throw you overboard so fast right now” Miles stomps further away from you while you chuckle.

“Yeah? And what's Gwen to you then? I see how you look at her.”

He stops with his hands on his hips, head falling in exasperation, he's too quiet.

“Miles?” oh shit. You might've gotten too far with your teasing. You weren't even sure what you said was true, it was just a wild guess.

“Is it that obvious?!” He suddenly yells, turning to look at you with his hands over his head like he's in physical pain. “You've been here for less than three days and you've noticed!”

“Please calm down.” You laugh nervously, the last thing you need right now is making Hobie's navigator cry. “I was teasing you is all.” You have no idea how to comfort the poor guy. “I won't tell anyone I promise!”

“Especially Gwen,” he points at you.

“I won't tell anyone.” you cross over your heart. “If you answer my questions” smiling mischievously, you can see Miles already regretting his choices.

“Blackmail? Really?” He huffs.

“Please it's the least you can do for me after saving the love of your life. Also blackmail is probably the lowest crime the bloodsail pirates have committed.”

Something passes by his eyes, a memory perhaps? You have no idea what it was but his eyes glissen over. He composes himself in a second, clearing his throat.

“Correction, you're not a bloodsail pirate.”

“I am for two weeks at least” you shrug.

“Finn is right, you are annoyingly talkative.”

“Hey! Talkative for his standards maybe. You try getting stuck in a small room with a silent giant and you will truly know how bored you can be.”

Miles nods, smirking like he knows something you don't. “You talk a lot to hide the fear inside you.”

Did he just psychoanalyze you?

“This crew will be the death of me, move, people are probably dying while we're talking” you walk past a grinning Miles.

Walking past a few more rooms, you spot an open door to your right. The dimly lit room catches your attention with its bookshelves full of gorgeously bound books.

“A library? You have a library here?!” You excitedly walk over to the doorframe, eyes quickly scanning the titles on the shelves. “I haven't seen a huge collection like this in my entire life.”

Miles steps over to the side, promptly shutting the door. “After you take care of my family then we can talk about library privileges.” He gives you a look that has you rolling your eyes.

“Fine, dork” you whisper the last word.

“What was that?” He clearly heard you.

“Nothing! Let's go and save some people.”

Turning the corner, leaning on the walls, there lies a line of disgruntled pirates. They hold on to their various injuries, groaning in pain. They cheer once they see you but they quickly shut up after their pain flares up from the cheering.

Walking towards the open double doors of the infirmary, they look at you with their unreadable faces. The common theme though is the ache in their bones and the blood coated shirts.

You assess each of their injuries, some are minor, only having gashes on their arms and legs. A few are bleeding through their bandages, head wrapped hastily in bandages that clearly needs to be changed immediately.

Trying to remember what she taught you, you sigh, hands clammy. You haven't handled this many people, only used to treating a couple of people at a time in your small village with her. Times like this, you can't help but miss her. Shaking your head, you can't let your mind wander again, right when the people who are helping you stay literally afloat need you.

But you can't handle this many people alone.

“Uh…who’s more injured?” you ask.

They all raise their injured hands.

“Okay, who's still bleeding?”

Half of them raise their hands.

As if sensing your panic, Pavitr comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Need my help? I'm not that good with blood but I'm sure I can help. and Miles can help too, right, bud?” Pav catches Miles who's sneaking away to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Uh… to look for Ned, yeah! He can help too.”

Ned yells from inside the infirmary, “I'm already in here! I was the one who told you to fetch Y/N, remember?”

You and Pavitr share a look.

“Yep yep! I'm coming to help, see?” He stops when he's inside the small clinic. “Oh man, that's a huge needle you have there Ned”

You clasp Miles on his trembling shoulder, “Don't worry I'll keep it away from you. For a price of course.”

Miles huffs, gritting his teeth. “You get three questions.”

“Good–”

“After you're done here”

“Fine.” you enter the room with a roll of your eyes. The smell of poppy, ointment and iron fills your senses. Suddenly you're back at home, the roaring fire from the stone fireplace warms you as the huge book in your lap has you enthralled by the illustration of human anatomy.

Groaning brings you back to the present. The first thing you see is Ned tending to ugly mug, his back exposed. Ned’s huge needle is sewing up a deep cut just below the man's shoulder.

“Give it to me straight, mate, I'm gonna look even uglier now aren't I?” He asks Ned.

You scrunch up your nose after seeing his face still good looking and injury free.

Turning around to face Pav and Miles, you try to remember her teachings, you can still feel her hands guiding your own as she rambles on how you should always wash your hands before treating someone. It's been years since then, her voice is nothing but a memory, slowly fading away as you grow older.

You haven't been practicing much, but you kept up with your knowledge by reading pamphlets as much as you can. It's a useful skill afterall, especially when you travel. With an exhale, you start instructing the two.

“Pav,” he straightens up. “get me some hot water from the galley and the purest alcohol Finn has.”

“Got it, I have to fight Finn though” he runs off with determination in his eyes.

“Miles, I need you to triage” you continue as you head off to the basin to clean in between your nails. The dried blood from your fingernails turns the water murky and brown.

“Put the people in front of the line who need to get treated first and with the most severe injuries while the people with the least severe injury to the back of the line.” You look over your shoulder. “Understood?”

“I'm doing it but not because you told me to.” he goes out of the room, already yelling at his impatient crew mates. You hear someone saying ‘what the fuck is a triage? use english!’

You look at Ned. “Please tell me you washed your hands.”

—

You're incredibly hungry, again. Your fingers ache from all the sewing and patching you've done. Your hands smell like herbs and ointments. The muscles in your hands still shake from all the bullets you had to carefully take out. But everyone seems to be stable now, thanks to you.

Washing your hands in the newly replenished basin, you hear footfalls against wood from above. For a second your mind flings back to the fight, you pinch your pinky to distract yourself from the image.

A plate clangs behind you. Looking over your shoulder, Miles is once again trying to sneak away.

“Thanks, Miles” You genuinely smile at him, just looking at the hot plate of mashed potatoes and beans has your stomach grumbling.

“Fine, ask away” he sits across from you, arms crossed on his chest.

“I actually forgot about that, thank you for mentioning it.” You smile mockingly, taking the plate to finally eat.

“What? Oh come on, man” he points suspiciously at you. “Why are you so curious?”

“Because human beings are naturally curious.” Miles makes a face. “Fine, I want to know the backstory of the legendary bloodsail pirates. I mean can you blame me? I have to live with the crew for two weeks.”

He sighs, convinced. “As long as the answers to your questions are already known by the navy,” you nod, “ask away.”

You chuckle. “First question, Where did Hobie get this huge ship?”

“Stole it, next question”

“Really? you're not gonna elaborate on that? I got the needles far away from you the entire time.”

He clicks his tongue. “Stole it from a rich merchant ship years ago with just his wits and a blunderbuss. He's been upgrading it since then, you can barely see the original facade.”

“I gotta admit it to him, that sounds like a good story to tell.”

“Maybe if you play nice he can tell it to you someday.”

You sigh, “Some mysteries just have to stay a mystery.”

He chuckles softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Second question,” you take another spoonful of beans, chewing while talking. “Where did he get his crew?”

Miles looks at you with disgust. “Swallow first, Christ. Some joined later on, some like Gwen, Pav, Finn and I have been with him from the start.”

“Elaborate? Or I'll chew with my mouth open”

“What is wrong with you? I'm not done yet, jeez.” He looks like he's about to jump away from you. “A few of us were running from getting drafted during the war, only having us as their only option or go to jail.” You listen intently.

“But most of us joined after hearing about us, wanting to be pirates but they want to give back to the people instead of just taking and plundering for gold.” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess some of us are more into it rather than just pure survival.”

“Wait, you do that? Like some sort of pirate Robin Hood?”

Miles looks at you surprised. “Of course we do, I'm guessing that doesn't make it to the sunday news huh?” he sighs. “Well that's what we do, we only take from the rich and give it back to the people who need it most. Most of the time the nobles and merchants don't suffer much loss from it.”

“Well until I see it for myself I'll think otherwise. Next question—”

“Nope, you've already asked your three questions!” He cackles.

“Wait, the last one doesn't count! Come on, one last very important one that if I don't get the answer to, I will combust.”

Miles pouts his lips, thinking like it's the most difficult thing ever. “Hmmm, you blowing up into tiny pieces sounds great actually.”

“I won't tell Gwen you're utterly in love with her. Just one last thing.”

“You won't tell anyone”

“I promise! And when I promise I intend to keep it.”

He exhales the most tired exhale ever. “Ask”

You smile. “Why follow Hobie?”

Miles stares at you directly, none of the annoyed look he's given, no boyish charm you've seen the entire day you've spent with him and the crew. He looks like a proper pirate with his back straight and loyalty emanating just from his tone.

“Because it's Hobie,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You have no idea the things he's sacrificed for us. Before we were a crew he— I owe him my life. And it's not blind loyalty, we're all free to leave if we don't want to follow him to the end. Some have already left.” He says the last part forlornly. “I guess I follow him because he's family, not just my captain.”

You look at your half eaten meal, family, you haven't heard that in ages. You have family somewhere, you're sure of it. In your journeys you've had people, friends, but not enough to be called your family; they haven't come close to what you had with her in that little cabin of yours in the middle of nowhere.

If only greed wasn't a thing, you'd still be with her.

You feel a ghost of your necklace graze your chest, instinctively holding on to it for comfort, disappointing yourself when you can't grasp it.

“Y/N?”

You clear your throat, fighting the tears from flowing. “So if he's your family and the crew is also your family, does that mean you're in love with Gwen who's supposedly your family? Hmmm?”

“You know what I meant! What is truly wrong with you?!”

“What? I'm just asking!”

“Oh really? Well you use humour as a crutch!”

You gasp, “Rude!”

“Yep that's you! Miss ‘I make jokes during serious conversations’”

“Understood, now where did I put that needle?” you act like you're trying to find it, patting your pockets.

“Nope, I'm already gone!” He's sprinting away from you. “You're needed in the galley by the way!” His muffled yell makes you laugh.

Another day, another quiet day in the galley for you.

—

During dinner, you've noticed the empty chairs, the sound of the waves crashing and utensils scraping still echoing in your ears as you watch them bring out their dead from below.

The full moon witnesses the crew put their dead on the now pillaged navy ship. The bodies wrapped carefully in white sheets. There's no breeze blowing or waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Everything's at a standstill.

The eerie silence has you standing by the edge of the crowd. Not a part of it but not truly alone.

The gas lamps illuminate the crew's expressions. You're not used to seeing their faces look so devastated, especially after all the laughs you've shared with them while mending their wounds mere hours ago.

You know it's not your place to be here or to even stand with them while they're mourning their friends. But you stay because if it's the other way around you'd want the only outsider to mourn with you, to stand in solidarity with you even if she doesn't know how the people you're laying down on the cold wood used to comfort you through the storm and how they used to hate the summer heat.

You'd want the outsider to know that they once lived.

The floorboards creak as Hobie lays the last body on the navy boat's deck, kneeling by the side to say his final farewell. After a moment, he stands up, knuckles so tightly closed that you can see his hands shake from where you're standing.

He cuts the rope tied to the mast, the sails unfurl, the slight breeze making it move slowly. Hobie jumps back to the revenge before the navy ship sails too far.

With his crew right behind him, you all watch as the ship sails for the final time. Hobie takes a musket from Gwen, they share a comforting look briefly before he takes aim at the ship. The shot echoes out, hitting the barrel full of gunpowder directly. Fire immediately bellows, engulfing the wooden ship.

The fire cackles further away but it still warms your cheeks. Orange and yellow dancing on the water as the mast burns and falls into the depths with a splash.

A soft voice sings a mellow tune, the lyrics full of sorrow and longing for what they've lost.

You look over to the source of the song, Yuri has her eyes glued to the flaming ship, her cadence echoes out to the open sea, the rest join in, goosebumps flare up on your arms. They sing about how the sea has claimed them but they aren't truly lost for they still sail the endless depths with the stars as their guide.

The singing ends and as everyone goes their separate ways, Hobie stays behind, watching as the fire devours the ship. With one last look, you head to your cabin, head full of thoughts that you'd rather not let it fester or it might consume you like the fire outside razing the once mighty ship.

The tune still stays with you until your head hits the soft pillow, you wonder how many times they've sung it together.

That night you wake up to someone screaming from above, cursing Hobie's name. Frantic footsteps dance above, you can hear a gun clicking. Recognizing the former lieutenant's voice, you fall back under the covers, jumping in place as you hear the gun go off followed by a splash and then a sudden silence.

For the next two days, you get acclimated to your life on the people's revenge. Having some sort of routine. In the morning you go to the infirmary to help clean their wounds and change their bandages, single handedly stopping infection. The survival rate of the injured has increased tenfold with your help. They greet you with a smile every morning, sometimes calling you ‘doc’ and you correct them everytime.

You haven't seen Hobie the past two days, always getting glimpses of him in the halls as he turns a corner. None of the crew have seen him out either. You wonder if he's had anything to eat in the past few days.

You've encountered how grief could consume someone, you hope you don't witness it again.

At lunch, you cook with Finn in the galley, making conversation, telling him stories you've heard during your journeys as he grunts and huffs in reply. You've gotten used to the quiet in the kitchen with only the waves outside and the bubbling pot filling your ears.

The crew have gotten better after the loss, they've started laughing again, making jokes and even including you to the conversation. You keep finding yourself chuckling among them during dinner.

After the day ends, you bring Pavitr his tea as he gets ready for another long night shift of sailing. As you head down to the library, you check in on Miles as he toils on a map, studying every detail, making sure the ship's on track. You bring him his cup, he's stopped looking at the tea suspiciously after the third time you've given him one.

You hear arguing in Hobie's cabin again, the voices are different each time you pass through but you don't dare eavesdrop, you swear that man has eyes everywhere.

The library has become your sanctuary, not the cabin you're temporarily placed in. You get a weird feeling everytime you enter the small room, like you don't quite belong in the obviously lived in space. There's tiny trinkets hidden on shelves, some are quite peculiar, unlike anything you've ever seen. You keep finding drawings and journal pages tucked in the corners and the bed frame, the ink already too faded to read or to even make out the art. You surmise the old resident of the cabin pushed the papers in there to stop the draft.

As you sit down on the lumpy green armchair of the library, the oil lamp illuminating the pages with only the moon as your companion; you get sucked into the yellowed pages, burrowing into every word printed, making a home for yourself in between the letters written by authors you'll never meet in your lifetime.

A soft knock brings your soul back to the old library, your eyes adjust in the darkness, his silhouette leaning casually on the doorway.

“So this is where you vanish off to every night” you can barely make out his face but you know he's smirking by the way his lip piercing glints in the lamp.

“Am I not allowed, Captain?” he chuckles. The sound reverberated around the room. A ghost of a smile passes by your lips.

“Keep callin' me like that and you might find yourself having special treatment.”

“And what exactly is the special treatment?”

Hobie shrugs, raising a finger up as he lists them down. “Havin' your own cabin, getting fed twice in a day, access to the ship's library, did I mention staying dry and alive?”

“You've mentioned it once or twice.” You sigh, gathering courage for what you're about to ask. “I've got a question, Cap.”

Hobie scoffs, “Heard you've been asking those a lot. One of these days your curious arse will get you killed.” You shrug, ignoring his comment. “You know I'd hunt you down if any of this information gets to the navy right?”

“I know, and I'm not a fucking snitch especially after you've kept your word of letting me stay even though you did use me as bait when you were interrogating the navy man.”

“Come off it,” he clicks his tongue. “I did not use you as bait.”

“Sure, and you don't have trust issues, Hobie Brown”

“Likewise, Y/N asshole.” he enters the room and into the light. You don't miss his snarky nickname for you. “Can a person with trust issues do this?” Hobie tosses a bag right on your lap.

You recognize the satchel, blinking in surprise “My bag!” You scan the contents down to the small bag of coins finding everything is still in its place. “Did you happen to see a necklace? It has a circular pendant with a bird engraved on it.”

“No, it doesn't ring a bell. Trust me somethin’ like that would've left a mark.”

You frown, hope diminished. Hobie gestures towards the seat in front of you, asking permission. You nod, letting him in your personal bubble.

“What are you reading?” He sits across from you on the rickety rocking chair, groaning, knees cracking.

“Just a story about some Greek hero that my m– I used to read back then.”

He nods, not mentioning the blunder. “I don't think Theseus is just some bloke.” You chuckle softly. “Y’know there's a much better read than that over…” he twists around, taking a book right behind him. “Here” he hands it off to you, calloused fingers grazing yours.

Turning the small book around, you shake your head with a subtle smile. “‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ Very funny”

Hobie stifles a laugh, a genuine smile across his face. “Thought it was appropriate.” he crosses a leg over the other, shoulders relaxed.

“What was your question, scuttlebutt? Ask me before I change my mind, ‘m feeling generous today.”

Your hands play with the spine of the old book. “Why haven't you killed me yet? After what George said, why didn't you believe him that I'm a traitor?”

He visibly stiffened, “You can't be called a traitor if you were never part of the crew, eh?” your heart thumps louder as he observes your every move.

“Also that's two questions,” the moonlight hits his fatigued face, you stare into those eyes that threaten to bring you under, but you swim out just in time before it drags you down. “good thing they have the same answers.”

You blink slowly, fingers nervously pick at the dry skin on your thumb.

“Your rucksack,” he points with chin. “I didn't pay enough attention to it when you first arrived but when I had my suspicions I had to check. First the coins or the lack thereof. If you were a navy spy they'd give you enough to use it as a bargaining tool.”

“You calling me poor?”

“Yes” he doesn't miss a beat. “Second your shoes, the bloody thing is thinner than Finn's flat bread.” you suck in your teeth in annoyance. “And that–” he leans closer, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Your fuckin' attitude, you didn't even try to play nice. You just did what you were told so you could survive. The only time you're actually nice is when nobody else is lookin'” you scoff while he continues on.

“Don't think I didn't notice you during the funeral or whenever you give Pav and Miles their tea. You stay along the edges of the crew, lingering, not really looking for any approval. But you're there, acting like you don't care but based on the careful stitches and gentle hands, you care, a lot.”

You grit your teeth, letting him read you like an open book that you've kept hidden behind the shelves, under all the more interesting books.

“Spies ease their way into the crew with effort, you did it unintentionally. You didn't hesitate saving Gwen, you could've done anything else in an attempt to escape but you helped and you stayed. You're not a spy, I think you just want to belong somewhere—”

You cut him off, “What makes you think I want to join your rag tag group?”

Hobie looks like he's about to swallow you whole, ignoring your last snarky comment, he continues his rant. “You want to belong even if it’s on a damn pirate ship. You're a genuine stowaway.”

“Alright, you're quite perceptive then, but that doesn't answer my question on why you haven't killed me yet.” you bravely face him. “You said it yourself, you would kill me if any information about you and the crew comes out from me. And you told me I needed the coin so what's stopping me from going to the nearby governor and selling off the information the moment we land?”

“Because you're running too,” his eyes shine in the low light, looking at you mischievously. “I don't know from whom or if you're wanted like us but I do know you're not gonna risk your freedom for a few coins.”

Hobie beams at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And lastly, I'm gonna need you before I let you go.”

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anonymouscheeses · 22 days

Note

why does Vaggie take Drugs?

Ooof... this is a doozy! Get ready for depressed Vaggie/Valerie! CHAGGIE HUMAN AU LES GO

(Tw: massive talk about drugs n smokin! Like- its literally the main focus 😭)

Valerie used to smoke just to fit in with her friends Adam and Lute, plus the "exterminators" (which I will get into I think next request eheheh 😈). But now that they had a fall out with eachother, she relies on them heavily for other means. She has grown to use them for her anxiety(which, yes, she does have anxiety. It's hell, me and her are twins), although she has become SUPER reliant on them that she goes to any means to get them. Like going to the secret drug dealer that is Anthony(Angel Dust by most). Since he's pretty much everywhere and nowhere at all times, it's like if she wants drugs he is immediately there. It's creepy but it gets the job done I guess.. 😭

(He 100% cares and worries about her. Like, he loves when they talk and tease eachother, they have like a little sibling thing going on and he genuinely thinks of her like a little sister. Maybe cos his sister is dead but like let's move on from that right 😍)

Charlie HATES drugs. Not even hates, she DESPISES them. She tries to get Valerie to stop, but to no avail of course. Despite their differences, Charlie attempts to fit in with her.

It obviously goes to crap. Girl CANNOT and WILL NOT use that "devils dandruff" 😔🙏

(Wym girly- ignore the first image 😍 I just want to go for a peaceful vibe in their "friend" ship. Like they go to the mall, go get ice cream, get in trouble even if Charlie doesn't want to. They are goals fr fr I think im gonna draw them doing random stuff. WHICH REMINDS ME! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM GO TO A PLACE PLSS REQUEST! I WANT TO SBB I WILL ANYWAY BUT LIKE- ANYTHING SPECIFIC IDC <3)

What DOES she not understand? Sure Valerie is at a rough time where she feels she has to rely on a substance to keep sane. But.... Charlie doesn't know that. She just simply doesn't know how to understand a person's feelings. Let alone her own.

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roads-rise-to-meet-me · 11 months

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cyberpunk oc: Valkyrie

You got a piece of me And honestly My life would suck Without you

#cyberpunk 2077 #goro takemura #cyberpunk oc: juliette 'valkyrie' serrano #takemura x v #female v #nomad v #ship: dust devils

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baek-at-it-again95 · 6 months

Text

Intro: Siren (Sailor! Hongjoong x Siren! Reader

Synopsis: Killing men is all you have ever known—it's what your species does. However, you have recently begun to question your purpose. When given the chance to save a human, your experience leads to new discoveries

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence.

Genres: fantasy au, angst, fluff?

A/N: Helloooo atiny babies! HAPPY HONGJOONG DAY! I was supposed to be writing a four page paper on the odyssey and ended up being inspired to write this. What can I say? LOL :) Thank you for so much love with the previous hongjoong series as well <3

You lie on a bed of rocks near the shore of your island, listening to your older sisters gossip and giggle amongst themselves. They always talk about rather useless matters. Your tail glistens beautifully, each obsidian-colored scale appearing shiny when the dense clouds decide to reveal the bashful sun. The waves that crash over the rocks create a refreshing mist that dusts your grayish skin. The voice of your eldest sister interrupts your relaxation.

"Y/N, you have not joined us to hunt humans in a while. Have you become weak?" she asks sharply. Your other sisters giggle.

"No," you answer quickly. "I...I have just been thinking a lot. What is our purpose? Why must we kill humans? We do not even eat them." Another one of your sisters places her hand over her chest, surprised.

"Why must we kill them? Oh, Y/N, we are just helping the world. Men are vile creatures. They cause every problem. They destroy the world and then destroy themselves. We are doing the gods a favor."

"They cannot all be bad." You argue, cheeks feeling warm with embarrassment. Are you wrong to think so?

"Do not be foolish, Y/N. If you get yourself into trouble, I can only say I warned you," your eldest sister speaks again. You avoid her eyes.

"Look!" Another sister points to your left and all of you follow her clawed finger. A large ship approaches fast from beyond. Speak of the devil. Your sisters gasp with excitement. "This will be fun!"

"Y/N, come with us this time. It will be good for you," the eldest says. You reluctantly push yourself off of your rock and slide into the water below. You follow behind all of them, consumed with guilt for what is to come.

With just a few strokes of your strong tails, you arrive at the ship. You station yourself a bit farther behind everyone else as usual. One of your sisters mischievously splashes the surface of the water with her tail, causing a commotion for the humans on board to peer at. Just as she desires, a man comes to the railing, pointing and calling over his crewmates. One by one, more men join him at the railing and look on in fascination. With all of your tails now hidden under the dark water, they must think you are mermaids or sea nymphs. They do not fear you as they should.

The last man to appear at the railing piques your interest. He is similar to you, the way he quietly positions himself farther from the others in the group. While the onlookers pay attention to your sisters, you make eye contact with the man at the end...and you can't look away.

He is the most beautiful creature you've ever seen.

You cannot possibly stay and watch as your sisters kill such a beautiful thing. Ridden with guilt, you disappear below the waves and swim to the other side of the ship.

Once you surface on the other side, you hear a voice from above filled with concern. "Miss!" You look up to see the same human, looking down at you again from the other side of the railing. Why did he follow you instead of watching your sisters making all the commotion?

It is then that you hear them. Your sisters begin to sing, their voices like honey but dripping with venom as they lure their prey. You panic as the human turns his head toward the other side of the ship. You cannot let him die. They can't kill him. You quickly begin to sing a soft melody yourself. The human suddenly turns back to face you, entranced by your voice. Despite refusing to sing for quite some time, it comes naturally, your voice as sweet as always.

You continue singing, luring him with your sweet melody until he plunges into the waves beside you.

***

You had pulled the unconscious human to the shore of your island, your strong tail allowing you to arrive quickly. You hurriedly laid his body on the pale sand and retreated back into the water to watch him from a safe distance. How will he act when he wakes up? Your sisters have always told you human men can be violent and unpredictable...but you have only seen them under the influence of your enchantments. Besides, this human did not look at you in that way.

After observing him from afar for some time, you begin to get antsy. The human does not stir, just lies peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly. You cautiously swim closer, looking for any more signs of movement. Pushing yourself onto the shore, you sit yourself next to him. Now you are able to take a longer look at him, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. There is sand in his soft, wet hair, and his pale skin is flawless. He is truly the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on.

"Hello?" you whisper meekly. No response. Curiously you draw closer to his face, touching his cheek slightly. When he does not move, you boldly trace your finger across his sharp nose and jawline, fascinated. "Pretty," you say out loud. A sound nearby causes you to look up, eyes darting around to look for any sign of a threat. When you don't see anything, you look back down at the human. His eyes are now slightly open, peering up at you. You gasp, scooting away from him.

"Wait," he says. His voice is angelic, so soft and light. He tries to sit up but holds his head, stifling a groan. You hurriedly move back to him, lightly touching his head in concern. Your eyebrows furrow together as you observe him, your thumb brushing over his temple gently. He stares at you in awe. "Did you...save me?" You look at him with wide eyes, nervous about talking to a human. You have only used your voice to sing for them, killing them one after another for as long as you can remember. You are afraid to hurt this one.

You decide to start with one word. "Yes." Your species has the ability to speak in any tongue in order to lure your prey with a song they can understand.

"I see, how—" You see his gaze land on your tail, eyes widening. "A mermaid?" he questions. Should you lie to him? You do not want him to fear you. Mermaids are a completely different species. Though you have similar anatomy, they have much more colorful tails, and they lack the ability to lure their prey with song. You must have taken too long to answer, because the man says, "Yes?"

"No." You look at him nervously before letting out another word above a whisper. "Afraid."

"Afraid of what?" You watch as his gentle hand comes to hover over yours. As his hand touches yours, you tense, but immediately relax at his warmth. Humans are warm. You forgot that they are, since their bodies soon turn cold after dying.

"Hurt."

"It hurts for you to speak?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed with worry. Maybe now you can try more than one word.

"No. I do not want to hurt you." He tilts his head.

"Your speaking hurt—oh." He glances at your tail again. "You must be a Siren."

"Yes," you reply, eyes wide since he figured it out. Humans are intelligent.

"Why have you not killed me?" At this, your heart sinks. Is he afraid of you now? Maybe it was a bad idea to even interfere with your sisters' plans. What will he do when he realizes they killed his shipmates? You think about your words carefully.

"Killing humans was all I knew for a long time, but I do not wish to hurt them anymore. My sisters think there is something wrong with me." The man's eyes search yours with a gentleness you've never seen. Your free hand comes up to touch his face again, just as you did when he was still asleep. "Beautiful," you say suddenly. The human touches your hand that traces his face, looking at you with the prettiest brown irises.

Why do you kill these human creatures?

He draws closer. "Y/N!" The piercing voice of your eldest sister calls from the water. You pull away from the human, struck with fear. Following the fear comes a sudden jealousy. You do not want your sisters to see him. He is yours. "Y/N, have you finally killed something? Let me get a look!" She laughs, swimming closer.

You cage his body protectively with your arms and hiss at her. "Mine!"

"Alright, alright. But I want to hear all about him later." She smiles, disappearing into the dark sea. You turn to the human, fear evident in his features.

"You are not safe here," you say. Your guilt returns, the uncomfortable feeling arising in your stomach. "You must go home. I will take you back to your abandoned ship, and I will pray to the gods that you arrive safely home."

He seems hesitant, but he agrees. "Thank you for saving me. You are very kind." As he thanks you, the realization that you would be parting from him completely sinks in. An emotion you have never felt before begins to overwhelm you. You touch your face, wiping at a warm liquid that falls onto your cheeks. You look down at your hands with confusion.

"They are tears," the human says. "It happens when you are sad." You look up at his now blurry face, feeling more tears drip down your cheeks. "It will be alright," he says, using his thumb to wipe them away. He stops suddenly, proposing an idea. "Come with me."

Leave with a human? Humans and Sirens cannot coexist...can they? No human has ever left this island alive. But you could change that. After all, you have grown tired of your life here. Killing men and listening to your dreadful sisters every day is not what you desire.

If you cannot leave with this human, you would rather die anyway.

"Yes." You use the back of your hand and wipe away the rest of the strange tears coming from your eyes. "I would like that."

#ateez au #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #ateez reader insert #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #kim hongjoong x reader #ateez #kim hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong au #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong day

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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

#one piece #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x you #opla mihawk #shanks x reader #mishanks x reader #mihawk x shanks #red haired shanks #opla shanks x reader #shanks x reader x mihawk #one piece mihawk #Mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #peppermint tea

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imarvelatthestars · 1 year

Text

I Like You A Lot

Pairings: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: some light teasing for the reader having a crush, mutual pining, kissing

Prompt: “You’re so red all of a sudden. Did I say something wrong?”

This is my entry for the @cloneficgiftexchange hosted by @ghostofskywalker . I was given @l-lend , which was very exciting for me since they requested Wrecker 🥰 I hope you enjoy, my friend!

"Now who d'you think's gonna win?"

Phee's not exactly subtle when her eyes dart and land on you. She's smirking, the devil, one arm crossed over her stomach and the other folded atop it to cup her chin, as if she's pondering you, considering, searching for something you know is impossible to hide.

"I don't know," you start to say, but Omega suddenly jumps up and giggles as she bobs on her toes.

"I think it's Hunter!" She turns on you then, all wide-eyed and giddy, and whispers, "Who d'you think?"

The answer comes spilling out of you so embarrassingly fast that you can't even look Phee in the eyes. Because it's not really even a question. No matter the stakes, the context, anything, there's only one answer you'll have to any question regarding the members of Clone Force 99, and it's always going to be Wrecker.

Your response tickles your companions, though, much like you figured it would, and it makes your chest and neck and face burn. You have it bad. You have it so damn bad. You've known this man for a month and he's already wormed his way so far into your heart that not a day goes by where you're not seeking him out, daydreaming about him, searching the streets of Pabu for his figure.

Wrecker and his brother, Hunter, are standing in the courtyard near the great tree. Tech is nowhere to be seen, probably performing maintenance on their ship, but it's unlikely you'd be able to find him in the crowd that's gathered anyway. Everyone is eager to see Pabu's newest residents show off their fighting prowess. Some of the kids have congregated around the tree with the younger ones balancing on the branches where Wrecker had tossed them.

And you. You came. Of course you did.

The match starts soon after Shep arrives, Lyana snagging Omega's hand and the pair running off almost immediately to get a closer look. But you stay with Phee near the outskirts of the crowd - it's more subtle this way, or at least you hope you are.

Hunter and Wreck circle each other at first, sizing each other up, teasing, and you can tell that Wrecker's getting a kick out of it. He won't stop grinning, laughing loud and hard, playfully swiping at his brother when he gets too close, and it has your entire face aching from smiling too hard. You make a big fuss out of cheering and bouncing on your toes when he gets close to snagging Hunter's scarf.

There's a sudden rush of movement that's mostly covered by the tops of heads and shoulders, but you see Wrecker's entire head drop down for a second and you feel the thud his body makes on the floor vibrate all the way up your legs. A bunch of onlookers cry out sympathetically as a wave of whispers starts to wash by. Your heart's in your throat, then painfully pounding the vague idea of his silhouette into your sternum, and you don't know why you're so worried when it's just him and his brother, not life and death, but some silly thing deep inside you just wants him to win, to show off, prove how amazing you've always known him to be-

"Rrrrrraaaaaaaagaghhhhh!!!!"

That's a battle cry if you've ever heard one. Hunter goes stumbling back as a great, big figure suddenly rises from the dust, all immensely broad shoulders and that thick, sturdy throat leading to his jaw, his mouth, the swell of his nose to his brows, the light shining atop his head right on his scar. He grimaces for a moment, considers Hunter, and then-

"Fuck."

It's soft. You don't even realize you've said it at first. You're too captivated by him, the way he sets his jaw and suddenly cracks his head from one side to the other. Like a soldier, a fighter, like an incredibly sexy hunk of guy who knows exactly how to carry himself. Because that's what he is, of course. You know this, but to actually see him acting it? Yeah, fuck is exactly what your brain (and other, lesser, organs) are thinking.

A gentle nudge to your ribs prompts you to spare Phee a glance and she's grinning so widely that you're almost worried it's going to snap her jaw in half.

"What?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You know what."

"Shut up," you huff as you turn your attention back to the match.

Phee just chuckles. "I think it's cute."

You think you want to curl up in a hole and hide until all the heat in your face dissipates. This crush has you by the throat, but it's kriffing embarrassing. Not to mention it's unattainable.

"Yeah, so cute that it'll never happen, Phee. Ha ha, real funny."

Hunter's stuck in a chokehold by now, his eyes a little bugged out as he tries and tries to squirm out from under the massive weight of his opponent.

"Hang on, now, you don't know that."

The look you send her is scathing. "I know what you're thinking and I'm not embarrassing myself any further. Just because you snagged the pilot-"

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'd snagged him, sweetheart. But I sure do have my eye on him."

It's cute to see Phee Genoa in love. She's normally all business, protecting her heart and her home with everything in her, and you've always loved her for being exactly that, for being herself, but seeing her so enamored and happy has your heart soaring. She deserves her happiness as much as the next person!

Your attention drifts to the tail end of the match. Hunter seems to have won, if his bashful smile and Wrecker's proud clap on the back is anything to go by. The sunlight catches Wreck's prosthetic eye as his focus suddenly lands on you and he waves, beaming, all teeth and heaving shoulders, and it makes your entire chest tighten. Don't you deserve happiness, too?

"Awh, man, Hunter, what didjya do t' me?"

Tech glances up from his data pad with a less than amused expression. "What is your issue this time?"

Throwing his head back with a groan, Wrecker rubs at the small of his back. "My back is killin' me. Right where I fell!"

"Not my fault you fell, Wrecker," Hunter chuckles.

"Besides, you've taken much greater damage in far worse scenarios. You will be fine."

Omega and Lyana are giggling into their hands so hard that one of them has started coughing. Phee and Tech are quick on the draw and have the matter resolved hardly seconds later, but it's another little moment of that something you've been seeing develop between them this past month. The something that both makes your heart soar and feel incredibly lonely.

Your gaze catches on Wrecker as he scarfs down more food. Messy, frantic, like he can't get enough, but also excited. You're not sure you've ever seen anyone eat quite like him before. Hell, you've never seen anyone like Wrecker before period. He's an enigma all his own. A big, bubbly, bursting ball of sunshine that's descended on this little island and illuminated every shadow in your life.

"You boys had a good fight today."

All eyes flicker to Phee as she reclines a bit in her seat. She's moved one arm behind her head to cushion it as she leans it back.

Hunter offers her a modest smile and gentle thanks, but Wrecker has no pretenses about being polite. "Thanks, Phee!" he shouts and it immediately brings a smile to your face. "I always have fun rubbing Hunter's face in the dirt."

Hunter fixes him with a pointed look, just barely hiding his own smile. "Remind me again which of us won?"

Something in his brother's face shifts, he has a moment of bashfulness where he ducks his head and scratches at the back of his neck, chuckling half-heartedly to himself. "Heh. Well, maybe you won this time, Hunter, but I almost had ya!"

"Sounds like it was as fun for you to fight as it was for us to watch."

You don't think much of the conspiratorial tone in Phee's voice or the sly little smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. You're honestly too busy tracing the lines of Wrecker's scar, mapping out the pock marks and scar tissue and the vague smattering of his facial hair to notice much of anything. Until Omega nudges you and you come blinking out of your haze.

"What?" you whisper.

Omega frowns as she leans in, cupping her hand around her mouth. "Everyone's looking at you."

What?

Sure enough, everyone from Tech to Shep to Lyana is watching you, each expression in various states of amusement and expectant waiting. Waiting for what? What the kriff did you miss? Shit, they all must have seen you blatantly staring at Wrecker like an idiot and now you're gaping like a fish, an idiot fish with an idiot crush, and you just know deep down that this has something to do with Phee. Tricky little pirate.

"What's up?" Your voice trembles a bit and totally blows the casual, blasé vibe you were going for out of the water. "Guys. You're staring."

Shep clears his throat. "We were waiting for you," he says kindly.

Okay... "Waiting for what?"

"Phee had stated that you enjoyed the sparring match very much," Tech then interjects, "and Hunter simply queried why. It seems you did not hear."

Your eyes dart over to Wrecker and you know you're entirely unsubtle about it. Tech sees it, Phee sees it, even the big guy himself notices you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

"I-I got, I got distracted. Sorry." Fuck. You can feel your entire face go hot. This is so embarrassing. You feel like everyone's scrutinizing you, trying to figure you out like you're some kind of wild critter under observation. You feel like your affections are tattooed across your forehead and now the entire galaxy can see that you are pining more and more every day for the gentle giant sitting across from you. "No, yeah, I, uh, I enjoyed the match. It was fun. You guys did good."

Flashes of Wrecker standing at his full height start to overwhelm your senses. How he loomed over everyone else there, how much you want him to loom over you with those big, broad shoulders. The way he cracked his neck, moved his head from side to side and it felt like a blaster bolt to your gut. It still does.

"Ya should've come closer, ya missed all the action!"

If you'd been any closer, you think your legs might have gone out. "I still saw you, big guy," you say as you flash him a smile. "You're hard to miss."

He grins. "Yeah, I am."

You giggle. Like a prepubescent school girl twirling her braids around her finger, you giggle. Your entire body goes a little soft around the edges at his smile. That smile could light up the galaxy, the universe.

"You're funny." Somewhere in the back of your head, you vaguely understand that you sound like a dork.

Wrecker smiles again, softer this time, his cheeks dimpling, and he swallows. The lump in his throat bobs and steals your attention for a second, just a tiny one, before you refocus on his face. His eyes are nowhere near yours.

"You're cute," he rumbles.

Everything goes a little fuzzy. It's like there's cotton in your ears and a filter over your eyes and someone's squeezing your heart because wait a second, did he just call you cute?

And then the galaxy comes back into focus. You're not the only ones at the table. Everyone is watching. Your face feels like it's on fire. You wish the sea would open up and swallow you whole because the entire table just watched you and Wrecker blatantly flirt. You hadn't even meant to flirt, it just kinda came out.

Your brain is screaming at you to get out of there. You find yourself clambering to your feet, legs unsteady and chest aching from the force of your heartbeat. "'Scuse me, sorry, sorry. I'm gonna go use the fresher really quick. Yeah. I'll just, I'll be right back."

It seems like an eternity later when you finally stumble into Shep's fresher. You splash water onto your face, your neck and shirt get wet, but the pounding in your chest refuses to settle and the fire in your cheeks refuses to go out. All you can think about is the way Wrecker had looked at you, the way the sunlight hit his eyes when they flickered down around your mouth, the way his cheeks had dimpled. All you can think about is how much you fancy him and how stupid you feel for letting yourself be so obvious in front of everyone.

A knock at the door startles you enough to draw you from the spiraling of your thoughts. "Almost done," you call, "just a second!"

You towel yourself dry and smack the control panel, fully expecting to see Phee or Shep, maybe one of the kids waiting for you on the other side, but the figure awkwardly hunched over and chewing worriedly at his lip is impossibly tall and broad, larger than life, and more familiar to you than anyone else.

"Wreck."

You're breathless. Why are you breathless?

He's scratching at the back of his head again and very much avoiding your gaze. "Hunter said I should check on ya."

Your stomach drops. Maker, that's embarrassing.

"Oh. I-I'm okay, Wreck, thank you."

He looks at you from beneath his brows, eyes searching, and huffs a little. "Look, what I said back there, that you're..." Cute, your brain fills in for him. "I'm sorry if I said somethin' wrong. I thought ya looked so pretty lookin' at me like that and I just kinda said the first thing in my head. I didn't mean it if it offended ya."

Is the floor moving? The room? Or is that just your head spinning? There's no way he actually said that, is there? Maybe you heard him wrong. And you're about to talk yourself out of hearing what he actually said when you stop yourself. You take another look at him, take in the slight flush of brown in his cheeks, the awkward tilt of his shoulders, the unsurity in his eyes, and it strikes you that he's just as nervous and flustered by this as you are.

You're not sure where you find the courage, but you think it sprouted somewhere between being called cute and pretty in the span of five minutes. "Wrecker?" He grunts. "You really think that?"

He nods almost frantically. "I think you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

It's like your entire being explodes into a bunch of tiny fireworks. Your knees wobble a bit and your hand shoots out to grab the door jam to resteady yourself, but Wrecker's just as fast. He jolts forward into your space and the breadth of his entire, massive hand fits right into the swell of your waist. Oh.

"I'm sorry," he stammers, "I thought-"

Your other hand settles gently over his. A silent plea. But you speak it anyway, just in case. "Don't." When you look up at him through your lashes, you find he's closer than he's ever been before. "I like it."

He has a dark freckle under one of the tendrils of his scar, right by his eye. And a smaller scar like the slice of a blade over his chin. He smells like sweat and musk. And he's big. He's so, so big. He fills up your entire line of sight with just his chest.

One of your hands settles on his sternum without you even realizing. "You're really pretty," you murmur and your throat goes dry.

Wrecker shakes his head. "Nah, that's all you." He's not looking at your eyes anymore. You're not looking at his either.

You wonder if the heady sensation in your temple is from adrenaline or just the rush of finally getting to touch him. Not that it matters when you know exactly what you want and you finally feel bold enough to ask for it.

Your tongue steals out across your lips, driven on by the blatant following of another pair of eyes. You smile. You feel your stomach twist. You take in a shuddering breath and jump.

"Can I kiss you?"

His jaw goes slack and you swear his eyes glaze over. "Yeah," he grumbles all rough and low in his throat.

Your body rises onto its toes, your hands find their way across his body like you've known it all your life, one on his chest and the other wrapping around his neck, and you slant your head to one side as Wrecker descends upon you. His breath is hot on your cheek, then on your mouth, and then - oh, Maker, is this what you've been missing? He's a little restrained, perhaps he's nervous too, but he's warm and he's strong and oh so gentle. His lips are softer than you'd expected and you half wonder if he uses chapstick. It's weirdly attractive to think that he might.

"Don't wanna hurt ya," he whispers when he suddenly pulls back and leaves you wanting.

His forehead rubs lightly into yours. "You could never," you reply. You can't stop rubbing your fingers into the base of his skull. You just want to touch him, feel him, be close to him forever. "It's just a kiss, Wreck."

"Not ta me." There's something in his eyes that's screaming out to you, begging to be seen. Vulnerable, afraid, uncertain.

This sweet man. This big, hulking, mountain of a man, he comes across so strong and brave and he certainly is all of those things, but you know that there's more to him than that. It's what drew you to him in the first place - his big heart, his tenderness, his affinity for the softer side of life. You see it shining in his eyes more now than ever before.

So you run your hand up and over his head, soft and comforting, and you smile at him so sweetly and fully that it makes your jaw hurt. "You can kiss me again. And... it can be more than just a kiss. If that's what you want. It can be as long and strong as you want it to be, big guy. I'm not going anywhere." You lean in and lightly peck his lips. "I like you a lot."

When he kisses you next, he half misses your mouth and the ticklish sensation launches you into a fit of giggles. "I like you a lot," he murmurs into your skin, planting kiss after kiss along your cheeks and chin and nose. "Pretty girl."

#tbb wrecker x you #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker #star wars #OH MY GOD I WASN'T SURE WHERE THIS WAS GOING AT FIRST BUT I AM IN LOVE #HE'S SO CUTE I LOVE THIS MAN SO DEARLY

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