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kimaleart · 4 months ago

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Overthinking leads to the bar.

One shot, Open Ended fic

AO3 link; Word Count: 3,750

Rating: Teen & Up

Themes: isekai, reader insert, first meetings.

Warnings: drinking, cursing, not beta read.

Summary:

You've been dropped into the world you don't know. What's going on here and who's this annoying stranger?

You had a shitty few days. A really shitty last few days.

So. That's why you're here. This god awful pub you mean. With its stench of old cooking oil, alcohol, smoke of different kinds (from cigarettes, through pure tobacco, to heavy plant-based drugs) and - the worst of all - few day's sweat and sea stink. For such a small, apparently insignificant island, this one and only bar was packed full.

Oh and it was so goddamn loud.

You drank the last bit of the alcohol you had in your glass. At this point, what else can you do?

As stated before, it's been a few days since you've gotten here. No money. No knowledge. No nothing. Small mercies that you've landed on land and not in the sea water. Water, that covered way more than your usual Earth had. Water, that apparently is festered with pirates and sea monsters.

"Fantastic." You say, looking into your empty cup.

Guess, no matter the universe or world, there always will be those kinds of people. No offence. No judgement of people wanting a quick fuck. Just take a 'No' for the answer.

You never were a heavy drinker. Drinking till passing out was not a way of life in your old world. And here? Well, it probably shouldn't be either but fuck that for few days, right? It's not like you could drink yourself till ruin. You already rely on strangers to buy you next rounds. Next meal. To be a charity. You just had to sit there and there'd always be a drunkard who wants company, information or... company.

Keeping the talks light and respectful, you make sure to not spill too much. Both in information and liquids. Everybody knows alcohol tends to untie the tongues and let the opinions spill so you keep the lid as tight as possible. Mysteriously appearing from nothing loner is already enough of a gossip for these small islanders. No need to add 'crazy' to the mix.

And speaking of the red flags: here comes another sponsor of your drinks. A woman this time, that's way too interested in your business. Clearly wantin some action, looking at the sailor abs she definitely tries to non-verbally and very not-subtly point at. A passing interest on her part if you say so. If it's your looks or your unusual for this island (and world)'s clothing, you don't know. Nor care, really. 'S not like every each person asks you one way or the other where you're from. Local or by passers.

You let the person beside you monologue on you have no idea what about. Politics, economy and somewhere sandy. Oh and how brave or something that she was. Stories and gossip do tend to flow at bars. If you were interested even a little bit, those last few days you'd probably know everything about this world... But you don't. You just want to be. And to maybe go back to the one you already knew enough of.

Perfect situation to get some money if one would care to steal...

Humming and nodding when there's a lull, you keep the 'conversation' going. Just two sloshed parties with the less drunk being the more interested in your personal space. There's so little of it left in this place that you ignore the casual arm brushes or hands on knees.

With the last sip of the whisky, that will pair beautifully with all the other different promiles in your stomach, you decide to finish for today. You push the glasses by you slightly further and lay your upper half on the counter. You don't think you'll be able to stand up from this stool; not mentioning the walking. Yet you don't wish to stay here, so again: what other options do you have?

You tense at the feeling of an arm appearing around your back, trying to lightly nudge you to the woman.

Oh nah.

You resist the movement and turn your head at the tugger.

"Do not touch me." You say with as much intensity in your eyes and assertiveness in your voice. Your voice is steady and loud enough for them to hear over the environment. For a second their eyes go glassy and then they slump. Their body thud down to the floor, unconscious. A puppet with cut strings.

...Fuck.

Small mercies.

You dart your eyes around but it seems nobody noticed. Thank someone they were already sloshed.

You turn your head back and hide your face in your arms. There's a growing pressure behind your eyes that for sure will lead to a nasty hangover.

You try to ignore the world and collect your bearings. The voices are so mixed and loud, they turn into the white noise, hiding the deep rumble of words on your other side.

Where would you go? With what money? What place to sleep?

Way too loud. Way too painful. You should leave. Leave. ...Leave.

Grabbing your mental self, you slowly slide off the stool and straighten up. Guess you'll have to go back to the house at the outskirts, where you've illegally slept in someone's hammock.

You try to navigate the packed bar, trying to touch as few strangers as possible, and leave. Preferably whole and in peace. And if the eyes you've started to feel on your back get lost in the crowd, you wouldn't mind. It takes some manoeuvring to get to that salty fish air.

Freshly nausing air.

This small insignificant island must be some Trouble hub by the amount of individuals. Staying Trouble-free was never that hard for you.

You try as much as possible to steer away from the group of unusual individuals at the entrance. It took an hour into the world to know those people are not to be interacted with. Either trouble-makers or trouble-attractors. The big 'T' trouble you mean.

Seeing as it's dark enough for the stars to appear you take a wobbly walk alongside the 'road' - a path of planks, really - and plop down on a nearby grass to watch the stars.

There's so many stars here. A beautifully painted sky with occasional small cloud. No light pollution bullshit here. With the night insects playing over the muffled voices... it's so serene. Just... Unknown expanse of the universe you can stare at any time. And it stares back. Both staring in wonder at the one they don't recognise.

The constellations are different.

The stars are different.

All you can do is stare up at those beautifully blinking lights.

Those glowing orange orbs. Watching. Observing your every move. Staring at you. Into you. Are the stars here also gas and liquid orbs? Would anyone know the answer? This world is so weird. They could be monsters for all you know. Creatures. Eyes.

The owner does not in fact take a step back but does tilt their head. You huff as they take a few steps closer and squat. They're now fully in your vision, their hat blocking most of your view.

"Sorry but could you take a step away from me?" you say, no longer able to ignore the big black hat in your peripheral. "Please and thanks." You add as an afterthought.

You move your eyes towards the stranger. The hat throws shade at the face underneath, not helping you discern much. Nor does the black clothing. Still, assuming by the beard and bare chest, they're leaning towards masculine. What's more, there are two massive red flags telling you to be fucking nice to the guy.

You acknowledged the stranger so it'd be rude to ignore them. Do you want to be rude? You kinda want to be rude.

First red flag: Clothing. Big black hat, long black coat with patterned lighter (red?) lining, a bulky gold cross necklace instead of a shirt and black pants.

Basically a dream fit of teen enby goth vampire.

That's definitely an individual, all right. And seemingly dangerous at that.

Appearance-wise, clothing hid all but half of his face and chest abs (cover em up slut). What's problematic is the face: A very short black beard highlighting the sharp edges of his jaw; A close shaved but big moustache in a W shape; And a cherry on top - two near glowing golden eyes with a darker circle in the middle of the eyerises with a reddish tint at the edge.

He doesn't say anything, the creep, so you blink twice and:

"Wassup?"

You watch as his eyes squint aaaand that's too much eye contact with a stranger. Since he did not respond, you have the world's permission to ignore him now. As weird as those eyes may be, it's only an initial weirdness. You've seen other humanoid creatures that were not human, as well as shapeshifters, so it's not that strange.

You kinda hoped that'd cause him to move away. Alas.

You move your arm, slow enough for your movement to be easily readable and squish the hat's rondo to look back at the stars. Apart from his eyes observing you intently, he doesn't seem to mind you squishing his hat.

You can feel every second of this stare and how your today's drinks vapor. At least you both can feel a slight uncomfortableness in the situation. You probably stink his breathing air with the bar and a few days of no soap while he visibly dissects you like a bug.

You lay there in hopes he loses interest (or patience) but he continues on staring at you. You try to flicker the hat with your fingers but his slight head tilt frees his hat from your touch. It does shed some starlight though.

"Yre starin'. 'M not that 'nterestin'." you mumble, feeling done with this guy.You feel the headache, drowsiness and hunger creeping on you. The weird meat bite-size bits someone ordered for you was all you ate that day. The village folk are weirdly nice to this new stranger and keep you fed. Keeping you away from the edge of stealing.

Keeping your state in mind, you slowly sit up, giving the goth guy time to move away.

"On contrary." The stranger finally says. His first words to you. He took his goddamn time to respond. "You have... quite interesting accent."

"Thanks. One of my many." you say, slowly heaving yourself up. You're not that stable on your only two legs but you'll manage. "Comes with the languages."

Ah. Of course. Not the worst comment but inquiring enough about your shit. Even if he didn't bull-eye into the 'nope' category, his tone was unfavourable to get information out of you. The tone bored and slightly condescending. Kinda reminds you of someone.

That's another thing that you've noticed in this world. Everyone speaks the same language. If you'd have to guess, it's a weird conglomeration of Japanese and English that you can understand. And no matter what language you speak, they can understand you too. No language barrier whatsoever.

You turn slightly to look over your shoulders at the Main Character's Cool Uncle.

You watch as his head tilts slightly like a dog's in curiosity. He clearly doesn't know any of those, even though he understands all of the words you said so far. If he catches the differences, you have no idea. It's dark and you don't know where to look.

"Y'know. My native, all the English versions and some words in others." You say, giving some examples, switching to each language with the one mentioned.

You might've said too much.

At least he doesn't seem or act like a blabbermouth.

Damn.

Your eyes move from the guy to the thing behind his back and NOPE. You turn back upright and with a quick "nice talking" and drunkenly power walk to the outskirts. You do not turn back at the sounds of loud voices and proclamations. You push on past the stumble at the sound of metal hitting metal. You're way past the line of sight but you continue on past the bloody screaming in pain. You take a break by the bushes to heave and breathe, keeping the vomit at bay. Just to get back up and keep on walking.

Be an NPC. Be just an NPC. The ones that are not interesting enough to fight! You need to blend in. You're not an individual.

You get to the house you've squated by for those few days and-

You need new clothing.

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

The darkness under your closed eyelids suddenly gets too bright and painful.

Right.

The consequences of your actions. You can feel how dry and sticky your tongue and mouth is. Thankfully no acidic burn in your parched throat.

Fucktastic.

You move your arm to hide from the sun, feeling the sway your arm causes on your whole body. Good. You managed to get to the hammock. With a heavy bearing sigh, you slowly open your eyes. A new day, a new world, same old you.

You look around and notice a small chair with a glass of water and a plate with two pieces of bread.

Golden People.

You sit up properly and take your breakfast in your now painted one arm. You let a small smile enter your face at the sight of the non-toxic kid's doodles.

The good graces of this town did not come from nothing. You just had to help a kid or two in a muddy situation and bam. You can wander around without a bother with occasional greetings.

Once, they even left a kid with you to babysit for a day. The mysterious, usually drinking strangers. You both played and thought them a lil of some random things. Like where to find a little bit of clay to make their first pot. Or the 'Stranger Danger' these people don't seem to know of.

That kid is probably the one who, you assume, painted your arm.

Breakfast done, you take the dishes and go to the mini well they have, to clean first the dishes, then yourself at. When that's done, you return the borrowed things back to their porch. Respond with kindness where kindness was received.

You make yourself scarce, walking on the outskirts, grabbing some rocks and wood to carve in. If by any chance you find trash, you grab it too, to dispose later. Nothing much, to not aggravate your state.

You fill your time with some small things while your head is in a buzz with the past, present and future of your life. You know nothing and know enough. Magical fruits that give you superpowers. Even some 'power of will' or some shit to bend reality. A potential way of going back home. But to do so, you'll have to interact with those people. And for a longer period of time. You're enough in trouble as it is. Still, you need to get back.

Teaching yourself such power could take months at least. If not years or decades. If at all. And teaching someone else? It's like a fully deaf person teaching another deaf person singing. It is possible, yes, but you don't think you have enough faith and will for such a trial. And possibly catastrophic errors.

You instantly get back to reality at the feeling right at the edge...of you? Someone's messing your vibes.

You continue on wheedling but your attention goes to the stranger. An individual with a big hat. He seems familiar. And he comes your direction. What have your stupid self done yesterday?

You finish carving the basic shape of the spinning wooden toy. You try it on a flat-ish rock by you and it seems balanced enough. Time to start on the details. You make some grooves and smooth it out with a makeshift sandpaper. It's done and ready to paint right as the stranger gets to right in front of you.

He doesn't say anything, the weirdo, so you only lift an eyebrow at him.

He proudly stands there, his unusual eyes boring into yours. You are definitely not comfortable with the attention they have on you. You itch to say something but opt not to. He seeked you out, not the other way around. Be an- wait. Huh.

You shake your head (which is an awful idea for your still hungover brain) and go back to your work. Putting away the carving knife, youget the worst makeshift paints you can do on your own with these world's materials. Brick powder with water as red, and black accents from leftover ink someone threw out. All painted with some strings of grass leaves. Honestly, it doesn't look as awful as it could.

You gently blow some air at it to slightly dry it and give it a spin. It wobbly does so and you're okay with that. You'll have to test it on an even surface. Letting it be and to fall when it will, you get another piece of bark.

You ignore the stranger and him grabbing the toy you've just made. Can he not read the mood and leave? Glancing up, you notice how the colours actually match his.

Do not get the wrong idea. Don't you dare.

"Hm." is all he 'says' and turns to leave, taking the toy with him. Rude much.

Another temptation to voice your disgruntlement at the behaviour appears but you bite your tongue. Mostly cuz of your rule but that massive sword at his back cements your resolution. The fuck.

Your day continues as they do. You find yourself at the bar and get some free drinks and meals from the patrons. You 'trade' with a kid (a cool sea glass for a blue stone and with some rope you tie it like a necklace) which you end up giving both of those things away. You get a radiant kid smile and a small meal in thanks from the parents.

Nothing unusual happens in the next couple of days.

You do you and think of the possibilities. Portals and rips in reality. Bermuda triangles and all the other theories that come to mind. Crazy talk.

You kinda fear that you're at the stage of bargaining and moving towards the next. Will it be anger or depression? Both? You're definitely not ready for acceptance.

You find yourself at the edge of the docks and look at where the sea kisses the sky. Your world as you knew was spherical but it still ended for you. Would the end of this world move you back home? Like a game mechanic of glitching? Movie's walking into a mist and never coming back? What are you willing to risk to get back to your old rotten world?

Thoughts plague you.

So.

That's why you're here again.

This god awful pub, with its own stink. As usual: packed full. This evening, though, the barman gives you way more glasses of higher-shelf wine than usual. You have no idea who pays for these fancy fermented grapes and you're kinda bothered. Both for your own self and wallet of the stranger. At the fifth, you really get uncomfortable. Wine is way too easy to get drunk on. The only safe thing about this situation is the sight of the barman you see here since you've entered first, pouring the drink straight from the bottle.

Some strangers try to talk to you but after a few sentences they quickly scurry away as if you've burned them. Personal space for a win but what do they know that you don't?

You fear you might have to find yourself a new island.

You flag the barman. They seem surprised, which is honestly understandable. From the moment of your appearance you've never started any conversation at the bar. They appear quickly and with a glance behind your back, starts pouring you another glass. Someone behind you, huh?

"I'm not able to pay you for those." you say worried.

"Don't worry. They're covered." they respond neutrally, not giving you an inch.

"Then this one is the last, thank you."

"Don't thank me." they quickly respond and with a nod, cork the wine close. Clearly, they didn't expect a conversation.

"Say, how far is the next island and how could i get there?" you ask immediately taking a sip after. You let their gawking slide with the swirl of your glass.

"Planning on leaving?" they ask, collecting their professional self together, "And here i started getting used to your self." they tease, making your mouth's corners twitch. When there's no response they sigh. "Closest is a dangerous island past the calm belt. Next one that's not through that, is four days on a boat but it's abandoned. I'd recommend Loguetown. It's a few weeks from here. It's a bigger town with folks nearly as nice as here but it's peaceful."

"...thank you."

You look deep into the red liquid. Few weeks. Weeks with unknown people you'd have to trust for the safe passage. On treacherous waters. Calm belt sounded not that bad but the barman said as if it's the worst thing possible.

"Why would you want to go to the closest island?" a voice asks at your side. A young lad. By the looks, barely an adult. "You don't look like a fighter to go challenge-" ha starts but quickly pales and runs away.

You look after the lad but he quickly mixes with the crowd.

Challenge? Why and who??

"You want a passage to Kuraigina. Why?" a voice you hoped you wouldn't hear asks. You turn to the black clad sword dude and notice his glass of wine. Of course. Of course.

*Reasons.* you want to respond. "Boredom." you say instead. "But if there's only a fight ring, i'd rather not."

"Not there for the owner?"

"I don't know who they are."

"Clearly."

Smartass.

You turn your back to the stranger with an eyeroll. Now you know who he reminds you of!

Long live the king.

You don't want to gulp down this wine like a heathen but you're not interested in this conversation any longer. You sip it as fast and respectfully as you can, feeling the buzz.

"I can take you there" were the last words you expected from the stranger to say but here you are.

Whoop whoop! That's the sound of the 3rd red flag!

"For free." he adds.

"You're aware of how suspicious that sounds, right?" You spill, unable to stop yourself. Without turning, you catch him taking a seat next to you. You might as well- "Why?"

"Let's say, same reason as yours." This is going horrendously. You were supposed to avoid individuals. This is not avoiding. This is the main reason you wanted to leave this island for. "I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon." he says, paying a massive amount of cash, and leaves.

Do you wanna risk it?

#dracule mihawk #mihawk & reader #fanfic #one shot #one piece fanfiction #kim writes #Overthinking leads to a bar #kimale writes

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