genogenocrazycatman

[genogenocrazycatman]

Throne 22

Throne [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net]

Characters:  Original Female Character, Red Haired Shanks, Benn Beckman, Lucky Roo, Yasopp,

***

“I can be very disarming.”

“Looks like you’ve been disarmed,” I jabbed, not looking up at him.

Benn let out a loud laugh at that.

Shanks grinned. “You wound me.”

“Clearly, I’m not the only one.”

Hello people. So if you don’t know, what’s going on here then the simple version is that this a Shanks x OC fic.

If you follow me, and the One Piece stuff I write, then you’ve probably heard me talk about this fic. Hey look it’s finally here.

***

"What? Not up for another chorus of 'Wellerman?'" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame.

Shanks was standing in the hall in front of my room with a paper bag in his hand. He must've just showered. His red hair was still damp, and he smelled like the soap the inn kept stocked in the rooms.

Based on what Rhys, who was married to Carl, the innkeeper, had told me, the soap was made by a woman in town with a fragrance unique to the inn to make everyone’s stay just a little bit more special. He had worked with her to find the perfect balance of citrus and spice to capture the overall vibe of the place. Based on Carl’s fond expression as this story was relayed, he didn’t totally get it but was happy to indulge his husband.

Now, as the smell wafted off the pirate before me, I could really appreciate Rhys’ effort.

By the time Yasopp's hair was fully retwisted, all the crew members staying at the inn had made their way back, and the rain had finally hit the shore. Once the Red Force was secured, they'd extended their services to the rest of the village. Shanks had helped Carl with his final preparations for the storm before everyone had settled in for the night. I had offered to help, but  Rhys had waved me off, insisting that they had it under control.

Most of the crew played cards, drank, and sang in the living room area. Their spirits were high, but I could tell by the sagging shoulders and how specific movements caused them to pinch their faces that the storm prep had beat them up.

It doesn’t matter how strong you are in the face of a hard day’s work. I could endure my brothers’ training sessions no problem, but sometimes a day at the tavern or the store could leave me laid out on the couch, because I couldn’t make it the whole way back the hall to my bed.

I had hung out long enough to greet the guys, hustle Gab out of a couple hundred bucks, and sing "Bink's Sake" before quietly slipping upstairs to shower and change into my pajamas.

"There will be other shanties," he said with a shrug. Even the captain wasn’t safe from the exhaustion that had settled into the others. His countenance was unusually dim. “But who knows how many times I’ll get to see this ensemble?” There was a hint of that smile.

I was in a cropped black tank top and obnoxious kitten pajama pants that Lyric had insisted the four of us get while the girls were all still traveling with me. We had a strange mix of childhoods, some mostly pleasant, others consistently tragic. Together, we tried to enjoy pieces of girlhood that we hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate in our youth, including many a slumber party, which, at Lyric’s insistence, involved matching rainbow pajamas printed with weird cartoon cats with too-wide smiles.

“Shut up,” I said, giving him a gentle shove.

“I like ‘em. The creepy kittens go well with the tattoos and piercings,” he said, eyes traveling from the rainbow print to the dark ink that started beneath my waistband and traveled up over my left hip and ribcage before winding around my back, up between my shoulders and down my right arm.

“Are you done?” I asked, causing his eyes to snap back to my face.

He grinned fully this time. “Do I have to be?”

“Get inside,” I scolded, stepping aside to let him in.

He pressed a kiss to my cheek as he passed. "I brought provisions," he said, holding up the bag.

"What did you get?" I asked, shutting the door and following him to the desk where he set the bag down.

"Baked goods," he answered, reeling me in with his now free hand to kiss me properly.

It would be easy just to lose myself in Shanks - in the feeling of the muscles that flexed under the cotton of his t-shirt, the warmth he radiated like the damn sun, the way his lips slotted perfectly against mine.

There had been many times since I left Aurora when I became more accurately aware of my newfound freedom, but moments like these were where I most appreciated it. Sure, there was a series of newspaper clippings and maps marking out the travel patterns of my father and his sons tucked away in a folder on the desk, but here I didn’t have to constantly look over my shoulder for one of the boys or Tel and his goons. I could fully focus my attention on the man in front of me.

“You know,” Shanks started after he pulled back, looking surprisingly energized for a man who, minutes earlier, looked like he was going to drop. “I’ve been thinking about that pretty much all day.”

“Oh really?”

“That and finally laying down,” he said, flopping back onto my bed with a deep groan.

I chuckled, turning back to the desk to root through the bag. There were cookies, cupcakes, and hand pies. I pulled out one of the boxes, which opened to reveal an assortment of puff pastries. I grinned, grabbing one of the raspberry-filled ones and taking a bite.

I let out a pleased moan. It was perfectly flaky, and the sweetness from the berries was cut with the tanginess of the cream cheese filling.

“Sometimes I swear you’re trying to torment me,” he grumbled from the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes.  

I raised my brows in question.

“Dressed like that, making sounds like that.”

I laughed, incredulous. “The kitten pants really doing it for ya?” I teased. “You don’t think I could do better than creepy rainbow kittens if I were out to get you?”

“I know that you could,” he said, “That fucking bikini at the waterfall was proof of that.”

I snorted, trying to hide how pleased I was. I could pretend I didn’t know what I was doing when I dressed. In my defense, we were going to a swim spot, and it was hotter than holy hell out. But if we were honest, I 100% had Shanks in mind when I tied that swimsuit on. Hell, he’d been in my mind when I’d bought the damn thing while shopping with the girls, which would probably be embarrassing if I thought about it a little harder.

“But you don’t have to try. It’s effortless.”  

“You keep talking like that, and I might think you like me or something.”

“Is that what gave it away then?” he asked, finally moving his arm from his face.

“That and the waiting for two hours at a diner I might not have shown up at.”

“Some people might think that’s a romantic gesture,” he argued.

“You know, I used to think shit like that didn’t work in real life,” I said.

Shanks grinned, propping himself up. “Used to?” I didn’t miss the slight wince as he moved and how he was being extra cautious of his left arm.

I’m sure that the combination of physical labor and the drastically changing weather was taking its toll. Per Marco, the lower pressure caused tissues to expand, which is why some people experienced worse pain in their joints or residual limbs. Clearly, the shower hadn’t helped a ton, or maybe it had, and today was getting to him. Hell, even the fit of my glass eye felt off.

“I also bought provisions,” I said, grabbing a bottle from the bag I’d left inside the door when I’d returned the previous day. I lifted the sake bottle, giving it a little wave.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.” He made a gimme motion.

I took the cap off before placing the open bottle in Shanks' outstretched hand. I did have sake cups stashed around here somewhere, but clearly, those weren't necessary today.

He took a long swig, before flopping back again, careful not to spill.

I sat on the bed next to him, leaning back against the headboard. "You look exhausted.”

Shanks hummed, rolling over, resting his head on my thigh, and draping his arm across my legs. I brought my hand down to rake my fingers through his hair.

"I'm going to look like a rooster."

"Fitting.” I glanced over towards the window. It was shuttered, but there was a little flex, causing it to bow and bend against the harsh winds. Bright flashes of lightning illuminated the gaps between the panels.

"How's the Red Force?"

"As secure as she can be," he said. “Not the first storm she’s weathered.”

I nodded. "How's the left arm?"

“Missing,” he answered.

I rolled my eyes. “The part you still have,” I clarified.

He was quiet for a second, before grumbling out, "Sore.”

"Weather?" I asked.

He nodded against my thigh, before taking another swig from the bottle.

"Plus, I'm sure all the work tightened up all your muscles. The shower help?" I asked.  As I did so, I brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulders. "Damn," I swore, poking at the tensed muscle.

"Stop it," he whined.

I would've laughed at the big bad pirate captain if I didn’t feel bad. I grabbed the bottle from his hand and set it on the nightstand, ignoring his protests. I slipped out of the bed, causing him to fall face-first into the mattress.

He rolled onto his back, watching me as I went into the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of lotion. "Shirt off and roll back over," I said. "We’re gonna do something about those damn knots."

He did as I asked without a word.

I squeezed some lotion into my hands, warming it before pressing my hands to his shoulders.

"Not a single crack about me being bossy or trying to get my hands on you? You must really be tired."

“We both know I'll let you put your hands wherever you'd like."

“Just my hands?” I asked, feeling his shoulders completely freeze up.

“Elizabeth,” he warned.

I chuckled.  “I told you I could do better than kitten pajamas.”

“You’re cruel,” he said.

“Maybe just a little,” I agreed.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me relax.”

“I’ll stop,” I conceded. “For now.”

I started between his shoulder blades, working up his neck before my hands traveled across his wingspan, extra cautious as I moved from right to left. My movements were methodical. I recalled what Marco had taught me, and alternated between deep kneading at the tougher spots and gentle messaging. Tender touches over faded scars.

It was quiet save for the storm outside, the people in other rooms in the inn, and the occasional his or grunt of pain as I worked a tough spot, followed by my soft apologies.

By the time I was done, he'd practically melted into the mattress, eyes shut.

I stood up straight, cracking my back, suffering the effects of Yasopp’s retwist and Shanks’ massage, before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I’d suffered through years of back pain. It lingered because of an injury that had occurred during my captivity after I’d been abducted. Marco taught me all about the muscles and skeletal structure of the back as he worked out the best course of treatment. We’d then gone through the process of trying to figure out what exercises and stretches would help ease my discomfort.

It had worked for the most part. I no longer needed the braces and supports I’d required as a teenager, though I still preferred the added lumbar support from one of my corsets.

I came back out and crawled into bed next to Shanks. Almost immediately, he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.

"You might have a career as a masseuse," he said against my neck, warm breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’re pretty damn good at that.”

“Don’t make as much as bounty hunters, though. You’re worth a pretty penny,” I reminded him.  

“We already established that you like me too much to kill me.” He pressed a kiss to the side of my neck.

“And then we determined that you’re worth more alive. I could still negotiate with Beck.”

“You don’t have to negotiate. Just say the word, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back for now.

***

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***

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[genogenocrazycatman]

nigel is not A mariah mariah may apologist he is THEE mariah may apologist

[genogenocrazycatman]

GODDD MARIAH LOOKS SO GOOOODDDD HOT GIRL GRAPS INDEED

[genogenocrazycatman]

Some days you sit down and open your word doc to work on your fic and spend the next three fucking hours googling synonyms, because your grasp on language has decided to just vanish.

[genogenocrazycatman]

Let's just scramble brains

[genogenocrazycatman]

[genogenocrazycatman]

WELCOME BACK KENNY! 🥹

Photo credit 📸: ash_mann1021 on X

[genogenocrazycatman]

[genogenocrazycatman]

[genogenocrazycatman]

[genogenocrazycatman]

Kenny Omega has returned to the ring!!! ✨📸

Photo Credit: elpep23 on X

[genogenocrazycatman]

I gotta hear Adam Copeland really chirp at the other wrestlers.

The real Canadian side would come out with his hockey past

[genogenocrazycatman]

Cool TNA shout there

[genogenocrazycatman]

Swerve's always making people snap. First Hangman, now Ricochet.

Only big difference is that Ricochet just got there a hell of a lot faster.

[genogenocrazycatman]

Throne 21

Throne [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net]

Characters:  Original Female Character, Red Haired Shanks, Benn Beckman, Lucky Roo, Yasopp,

***

“I can be very disarming.”

“Looks like you’ve been disarmed,” I jabbed, not looking up at him.

Benn let out a loud laugh at that.

Shanks grinned. “You wound me.”

“Clearly, I’m not the only one.”

Hello people. So if you don’t know, what’s going on here then the simple version is that this a Shanks x OC fic.

If you follow me, and the One Piece stuff I write, then you’ve probably heard me talk about this fic. Hey look it’s finally here.

***

"If I didn't need you to hold your head up, I'd knock you out," I said, putting my hand on Yasopp's head and turning it to face forward.

He'd gotten distracted, yelling at Luck, who had made a jab about… Something, I had already lost the thread of conversation.

We were currently sat on the porch of the inn, me in one of the decorative chairs, Yasopp on the floor, between my legs, while I worked to part the new growth at his scalp.

"Do you even know what you're doing back there?" he grumbled.

I paused my motions to glare at the back of his head. “I wish I didn’t. Then I wouldn’t know how damn nasty your hair is.”  

A storm was brewing in the distance, still several hours away. The seas on the horizon were nearly black with the occasional flash of lightning. This was typical weather for this island; for the next several days, storms would come down, causing the streams and rivers to run over their banks.

The overflow from the waterfall and subsequent stream flowed into the other tributaries on the island, lighting them up for a few days before the water receded. There were several similar weather events, but none as severe as this one in the summer. As a result, once the storms had passed, but before water levels returned to normal, the locals celebrated the rainfall afterward with a festival, feasting and dancing in the bright blue glow.

Everyone around town seemed to be buzzing with excitement.

Somehow, I’d been roped into letting Lauren, Sota’s wife, and her friends turn me into a human doll for the event. Sota had kindly explained the hype to me while I was picking a few things up, and Lauren, who had come in to help on the day, had offered her assistance, roping me in by telling me about her daughters who were old enough to neither need nor want her help.

The excitement also extended to the crew. As they talked about their preparations (which included sleeping in, so they could party longer at night, fasting to take advantage of the feast, and busting open a reported secret stash of the "good shit" from the hold) Yasopp had idly noted that he should do something about his hair, which I had graciously (and now maybe regrettably) had offered to assist with.

I had planned to start early so he could return to work. Per Benn, a lot needed to be done to ensure the ship's safety, even when docked.

However, Yasopp had overslept and had to perform his duties before he showed up at the inn. And now, after detoxing, washing, and conditioning, as the sun was beginning to set behind the clouds, I was finally getting to the actual retwist.

Others had shown up, either done with their chores or avoiding them, so the group had moved from my room to outside, where we could feel the change in air pressure and watch the rain come in. Most of them would take advantage and sleep at the inn, while it stormed.

"I learned from my mom and my grandma. Lots of people had locs back home. I helped them twist my cousins’.” While I was a little rusty, I was pretty confident in my ability to get his retwist done quickly. First row cleanly parted, I applied the gel and started palm rolling the first loc.

"Have you ever thought about going back?" Luck asked.

I clipped the first one and started on the next.

I shrugged, trying to remain casual. "I mean, I've thought about it.”

I had thought about it a lot.

It had come up with the girls. Mimi, Naya, and Lyric, while they were still traveling with me, had asked about my life growing up, the time before I was captured.

I hadn’t thought much about it in Aurora until Shanks and the crew showed up.

There was something about that time before that felt pure, untainted by the tragedies that landed me in Aurora and the ever-growing resentment of the place I was stuck calling home. I didn’t want to ruin that image in my head.

But as I talked to them, I realized there were gaps I hadn’t noticed before. Things I couldn’t quite remember and couldn’t quite place, and that had unsettled me in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for.

I’d spent the next week in a silent crisis while I tried and failed to cope with the distance and years. More distressing was the fact that I could try. That wasn’t an option in Aurora.

“But it's not an actual island, so it's not like there's a logpose that points there. And the Old Man probably thought about it, so there's a chance if I go anywhere close that I'll get scooped by one of my brothers."

I was equal parts excited and terrified at the prospect of going home. It had been over 20 years. Did anyone even remember me? Would they want to? Or was I just the pirate bastard whose existence had gotten their home raided and her mother killed?

"I think I would like to go back. I just don't know if anything is waiting for me there."

"I'm sure they'd greet you with open arms and excited cheers," Hongo said.

"Lizzie! Lizzie! Lizzie!" Luck chanted.

"Thank you," I said. "But Elizabeth isn't my birth name. They wouldn't know that."

"What?!"

"It's not?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I-" I started. "I mean it's my name. It's been my name longer than not, but that's not what my mother named me."

The Old Man hadn't known my mother was pregnant. She hadn't thought she was ever going to see him again. When their paths crossed again, I was already three.

"When the Old Man dropped me off at Aurora, he looked at Rayne and told her my name was Elizabeth Newgate, and that was that. I guess that was supposed to keep me hidden. I was far too traumatized to do anything at the time. And by the time Rayne was finally able to draw me out of my shell, I was just Elizabeth, and it's stuck ever since."

There was silence.

"Don't worry, no one's making you learn a new one," I teased.

It didn't land.

"Every time you talk about that bastard, I just want to kick his ass more," Luck said. "Bad enough that he leaves you on that island but doesn't even have the respect to let you live under your family's name, under your own name. And you don't even know if you can go home to see them again if you want to."

"It's not fair," Yasopp said.

"He fucking sucks," Hongo added.

I couldn't help but snort out a laugh at that. It thankfully dislodged the lump that seemed to be forming in my throat. "Y'all are the best," I said, finishing the loc. I hadn't even realized that I had stopped twisting.

"We try," Luck said.

"I don't think you try at all," Hongo shot back.

"It's effortless."

Hongo scoffed.

I shook my head, opting not to dwell too hard on my thoughts of home and instead focus on their bickering.

***

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***

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[genogenocrazycatman]

Throne 20

Throne [Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.Net]

Characters:  Original Female Character, Red Haired Shanks, Benn Beckman, Lucky Roo, Yasopp,

***

“I can be very disarming.”

“Looks like you’ve been disarmed,” I jabbed, not looking up at him.

Benn let out a loud laugh at that.

Shanks grinned. “You wound me.”

“Clearly, I’m not the only one.”

Hello people. So if you don’t know, what’s going on here then the simple version is that this a Shanks x OC fic.

If you follow me, and the One Piece stuff I write, then you’ve probably heard me talk about this fic. Hey look it’s finally here.

***

As beautiful as the falls were during the day, nighttime was something else altogether.

Turns out, the algae in the water was bioluminescent, the luciferin in its cells reacting with oxygen to light the water up a stunning bright blue, the new light seeming to shift the world around it.

Without the blinding sun forcing its way through the tree canopy, the jungle beyond the ring of trees directly surrounding the waterfall disappeared into an inky black void. The colors already vibrant in the sun were fluorescent, glowing under the blue light, seemingly floating like stars from where they clung to the rock faces and hung from vines.

I was standing at the edge of the central basin, just out of the reach of the water, staring at the cerulean mist billowing from the bottom of the fall. At night, it was easier to see the fish that lived in the water. Their shadows cast to the surface from the bed below.

The crunch of pebbles underfoot caught my attention, but not enough for me to look away.

"You're surprisingly sober," I said.

“So are you," Shanks returned, stepping into the cool water a few feet from me. “Then again, you’ve been sipping juice all day.”

“That juice has more booze in it than anything y’all drank today.”

“That’s true. Your tolerance should be studied.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” I scoffed.

“We know where my tolerance comes from. Practice.”

“Your commitment to your craft is admirable,” I deadpanned, turning my head to look at him.

Shanks had that look in his eye again, the same wistful longing from earlier.

“This place is special, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I sailed with the Captain from almost the time I was born. I don’t remember anything before the Oro Jackson. They raised me. He found this place when I was a kid. It’s one of the first times I think I realized how amazing the world was and why he was so hell-bent on seeing it all.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said, stepping closer so that I could gently bump his hip.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said with a gentle laugh, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I slipped my arm around his waist, pressing closer to his side, heat and humidity be damned. “I really wanted to bring you here. Honestly, since you made me breakfast that day I brought your groceries and showed me your stash of captains logs.”

I scoffed, resting my head on his shoulder. “No captain’s log could ever match up to this.”

“You know I think the same thing about your journal,” resting his head atop mine.

“We lucked out. We both have the real thing right here.”

“Pretty damn lucky,” he agreed, hand rubbing up and down my shoulder. “I missed you,” he said softly. I knew it was just as true as the other times that he said it, but without the playful overtones, it struck differently than it had before. It seemingly untangled a knot in my chest that I hadn’t realized existed.

“I missed you too,” I said, my words free of the usual snark.

I had missed him. Before I left Aurora, I didn’t mind it as much. After all, fond memories and nonsensical daydreams were helpful in coping with the monotony of village life, but after a while, they soured. My little escapist fantasies only seemed to further intensify the discontentment I was feeling. Wistful if ‘onlys’ turned into stinging ‘what ifs.’

“You know,” he started. “I like having you in my arm like this. Kinda makes me wish I hadn’t lost the other one.”

I snorted out a laugh, shanking my head as I pulled back to look at him. He wouldn’t have that, though. His hand moved from my shoulder to the small of my back, keeping me firmly in his orbit, this time in front of him.

I cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently running over his stubble.

At certain points, I didn’t want to miss him. It had felt stupid and childish, especially once I finally left and settled into my new life—when I finally could take a minute to think. After years, I got to see the world and was distracted by fleeting thoughts of crimson, carefree grins, and belly laughs.

“Who wins the pool if I kiss you right now?” I asked, my gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips before meeting his gaze again.

“I don’t know who takes the cash,” he answered. He wanted to lean in closer, but my hands kept him in place. “But I win.”

Well, who was I to argue with that logic?

I closed the space between us, pressing my lips to his.

Three years of distance—gone. The only indication that they’d even existed was the undercurrent of desperation as Shanks pulled me impossibly tighter, and my hand found purchase in his red locks, the other hand sliding down to his shoulder.

I felt like I was floating, tethered only by his hand on my back and the taste of liquor that lingered on his tongue.

Shanks and I pulled apart, breathless, with my heart pounding in my ears.

I hummed thoughtfully, running my hand through his hair, delighted by how he leaned into my touch. “So you win, huh?” I teased, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “I guess I can live with that,” I said.

“You guess?” Shanks asked that stupid grin I adored on his face.

“WOOHOO PAY UP!” I heard a very drunk Yasopp yell.

Shanks chuckled as I hid my face in his neck.

“Looks like it was Yasopp,” he said.

“Shanks and Lizzie sitting in a tree-“

I lifted my head to glare at the grown-ass man singing like an elementary school student. I lifted both hands over Shanks’s shoulders, flipping Yasopp off.

An arm around his neck cut off Yasopp’s singing as Benn pulled him back down. “Mind your business,” Benn said, pulling the sniper back to his seat around the fire they had set up.

“If I didn’t think he was drunk enough to drown, I’d throw him in the water again,” I said.

“Can’t do that,” Shanks agreed, clearly amused. “Benn’s first rule was don’t die. That includes don’t kill."

"Since when do you follow the rules?"

"Since I still need my sniper. Wait until tomorrow when he’s hungover. Think you can make it that long?”

“Maybe if I’m appropriately distracted.”

“I think I can take care of that.”

***

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