#if you’re a pirate who doesn’t work you die

[featherlesswings]

I find it really funny that so many people thought Izzy was homophobic, but really he was just the Fun Police.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

ateez as pirates who fall for you (maknae line)

read hyung line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for jongho), fluff, angst, continuation of the pirate trope brainrot (but i must say i went all out for the plots this time)

length: 14.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, attempted murder), alcohol, near-drowning, angst bc i mean angst, specific c/w for mingi’s au: hurt/comfort, allusions to depression

a/n: i’m very sad i never got to use this joke somewhere so - why are pirates called pirates? because they just arrrr 🙈🙉🙊 also to those who like connecting dots and whatnot there are a few easter eggs related to hyung line 🥚 big thanks to yumi @sorryimananti-romantic for getting me through the last three months of trying to work and write bc it’s been a ship time ha ha 😬👍

taglist: at the end

san

pov: you run away with san and the cromer

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the ground, which is damp from moisture and your blood

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

you don’t notice when the footsteps behind you suddenly fall silent

you’re too busy reasoning with the captain, whose back you are facing as he walks ahead and leads your crew further into the dim tunnels of the cave

“it’s much safer if we go over the mountain. we’ll have the advantage of higher ground to ambush the horizon”

your captain, taesung, doesn’t look at you when he answers over his shoulder, “it’s much quicker through the tunnels. we don’t have the luxury of time if we want to attack their crew before they leave the island”

“and what if they attack - the horizon can easily ambush us as long as they’ve got the cave’s exit guarded”

you immediately turn around to look at san, knowing that he’ll support your argument

only to find that he’s not there

he’s several metres behind the back of the group and frozen to the spot

even in the shadowed darkness of the musty cave, you can clearly see the ashen and shaken features of his face

approaching him slowly, your fire torch held out in front of you, you gently call, “san?”

at the sound of your voice, his eyes lock onto yours

he looks terrified

san is lost in a distorted warp of visions

he can’t make sense of nor connect what he’s seeing

but there is blood

there’s so much blood

it’s everywhere

you’re there

it’s your blood

there’s someone screaming; raw with despair

he’s screaming

the ground digs into his knees and he feels wet and sticky from your blood but also his tears and there are so many tears and the walls are cold from moisture and it’s so dark and musty even with the smell of iron in the air and god you’re dying

you’re going to die

“san?” you repeat, now in front of him and tenderly cupping his jaw

and san has to stop you from dying

his pupils focus on you once again before he desperately tries to gain his bearings

he looks around with increasing franticness

he’s in a cave and the only light he can see comes from the torch you’re holding and the others shared amongst the crew

water drips from the ceiling and along the rugged walls towards the damp ground, filling the cave with a stale and mouldy smell

all his senses scream the same thing to him

it’s just like when you died

his own voice sounds foreign to him when he manages to choke out, “let’s listen to captain”

your eyebrows pinch together at san’s sudden compliance, especially more so when he lowers the volume of his next words so that you’re the only one who can hear his soft don’t argue with him

there’s something about the way he silently pleads with his eyes that makes you nod numbly

you slip the hand that isn’t holding the torch into his and prompt him to walk again with a light tug forward towards the rest of the crew, who are not too far ahead

when the both of you have nearly caught up, san readjusts his hand in your grasp so that his is atop of yours

and so you two walk, san leading you with a sturdy hand; a line of defence between you and the rest of the crew…and the depths of the cave

the thin sheet of cotton that you lay upon does little to soften the discomfort of the cave’s floor as you and the crew prepare for a few hours of sleep, but your pillow makes up for it

your head is cushioned by san’s thigh, who’s seated upright against the wall after offering to keep watch

he’s gazing down at you with a tender smile as he slowly runs his fingers through your hair like a soothing lullaby

your eyes scan his, still trying to catch any changes in his expression that could possibly explain his strange demeanour from earlier

you want to ask him what’s wrong but there’s only so much privacy you can get in a cave with the rest of your crew

instead, you give his hand a squeeze

san’s smile fades a little and you wonder whether it’s the illusion of the light and shadows from the torches that makes his face look so gaunt

his eyes flicker around guiltily and then he looks at you whilst reciprocating your squeeze

he’s mouthing something, you realise

do you trust me?

you tighten your fingers around his in reassurance

with my life

the dimpled caverns return to san’s cheeks, and then he’s whispering to you softly, “sleep”

you don’t recall dozing off, but you must not have been asleep for very long before you’re woken by a light shake to your shoulder

the groggy mumble that starts to leave your lips is hushed by a warm kiss on your forehead

you’re met with the sight of san holding a finger against his lips when you open your eyes and your brain struggles to comprehend what’s happening

there’s a faint glow coming from under his bulging shirt, which could only be one thing

the cromer

as your neurons start firing again, you come to the realisation that apart from you and san, nobody else is awake yet

quietly, he helps you up to your feet

the silent question he asked before you fell asleep replays in your head, and although it does nothing to clear up your confusion, it helps to ease your anxiety because you meant it when you mouthed your response

you trust san with your life

so you turn away from your crew members and start walking, each step deliberate and careful, your hand clutched safely within san’s while he retraces your steps from today

and when san deems you two far enough and out of immediate danger of being caught, he pulls the cromer out of his shirt to use as a makeshift torch

you both make a run for it

when you emerge out of the cave’s entrance hours later, thighs burning from the strain, you almost stumble to your hands and knees from the blinding brightness of the afternoon sun

san tightens his hold on you and urges, “this way, love”

together, you climb the outcrop on the left and disappear further into the mountains because you can’t afford to rest near the cave

few words are exchanged as san nimbly navigates the rickety ledges and overgrown roots, muscles flexing as he pushes forward and helps you with an extended hand

you realise soon after that whilst he leads you two away from the cave, he travels parallel to the edges of the mountain trees - a guideline that keeps the long port of the island just within sight

“san,” you finally break the silence to point towards an overhang you spot, “we should take a break”

he’s sweating from exertion and lack of sleep, so he nods with a grateful smile and leads you towards it

the rock provides a decent amount of shade and conceals you two well enough with the surrounding greenery

only when he sits with a sigh does he finally let go of your hand after hours of holding on

you know that he’s one for constant physical affection, but this…this feels different

it’s like he’s afraid that you will slip away the moment he lets go of you

you turn to look at him

“san, what exactly is going on?”

he’s quiet

he doesn’t know how to tell you - is there even a way to package his next words prettily?

letting out a stuttering breath, san puts it blankly on the table, “i saw you die in my arms”

you’re stunned into silence and your throat feels even drier than before

“was it…” you dare to ask, “was it going to happen in the cave?”

he nods, “i just suddenly saw it and it felt so real. it- it was dark and wet and the smell - the smell was just awful and-”

“hey, hey, san. it’s okay, we’re not in the cave anymore,” you soothe, pressing your forehead to his

you feel him relax under your touch before he tilts his head to kiss your lips

“yeah,” he sighs against you, “you’re right”

when you pull away, the faint glow under his shirt catches your eyes

“why did you bring the cromer?”

if it had only been you and san missing from the crew, taesung might not have bothered going after the two of you

but with the missing cromer too, the captain will spend the rest of his life tracking it down - tracking you two down - if that’s what it will take

taesung isn’t stupid enough to just let go of the cromer and the inexplicable power it holds to travel between dimensions

san shimmies the hourglass out of his shirt and holds it carefully in his hands, “i need a fail-proof safety net, just in case something goes wrong and…i still don’t end up saving you”

“a safety net?” an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, “san? what are you not telling me?”

he runs his fingers along the metal casing over and over again as he avoids looking at you

“i…i’ve used it before,” san finally admits, “i used the cromer to bring you back to life”

without thinking, you blurt, “it’s only meant for travelling between dimensions. nobody knows what the repercussions are if you try to mess with fate!”

“well, i did it.” he snaps, “you’re here, alive, and i would do it again and again to save you”

at his words, you soften

because san didn’t just see you die

he lived through seeing you die

you can’t even begin to imagine if you had been the one to experience san die in your arms

“i’m sorry,” you apologise. “thank you for saving me, and for loving me”

san’s eyes are red when he looks at you, “i’m sorry, too, for snapping at you. i know this is a lot for you to process”

you shake your head with your own watery smile

“i’m alive, and i promise i’ll stay alive”

“and i promise i’ll keep you alive,” he nudges your cheek with a playful peck

you laugh, because san makes you happy even in the most uncertain of times, and you ask, “what’s the plan now?”

“find a ship that’s willing to get us the hell out of here”

he makes a move to stand and you place your hand on the ground to push yourself up to your feet too

except your hand shifts with your weight and you end up cutting your palm open on the sharp edge of the rocks

hissing, you draw your hand back towards your chest

“shit, let me have a look,” san drops to his knees and takes your hand in his

he gently blows away the soil and rubble around your wound as you wince

it’s nothing too serious, but it’s deep enough that blood immediately begins to pool in the broken skin and seep further out onto your palm

the glow of the cromer pulses

“san,” you start when you see the cogs moving in his head

he removes one hand to pull the cromer out and presents it to the both of you

“i’m not losing you to infection from a cut, not after everything that we’ve done so far to get to here,” he quips

there’s only time to let out an exasperated sigh before he’s taking your good hand to turn the cromer together

your world goes white

the next moment when you open your eyes after blinking, you’re still there resting under the overhang in the mountain forest

san’s sitting next to you, the only sign of the cromer a faint glow under his shirt

and your hand…

there’s no cut

your head whips towards san and his eyes widen when he sees the unbroken skin of your palm

san makes a move to stand, but this time, he gathers your hands and pulls you up with him

“it worked,” you breathe out once you’re on your feet

“it worked!” san repeats, engulfing you into a crushing hug

the amount of relief he feels is uncontainable, because the cut is reassurance that he can change fate with the cromer

in high spirits, san tucks it back into the safety of his shirt after wrapping it in a length of sash and then he secures it snugly under his belt

you two need to look the part of inconspicuous travellers, and a glowing hourglass would most definitely draw unwanted attention

you and san cut through the back streets and alleyways of the small village that separates the mountain and the coast, keeping an eye out for not only your crew members - or ex-crew, you suppose - but also the members of the horizon

“remember,” san whispers into your ear as you both approach port, “if anyone asks, i’m your husband and we’re travelling merchants”

you’re too nervous to answer but you nod anyway, letting san take the lead once again

with the confidence of somebody most definitely not lying, san strides up to a sailor who is yelling at his men to load the crates faster and spins a story right out of his ass

somehow, san manages to concoct a convincing recount of how your goods were stolen by thieves, leaving you both without any means of making money, so now you are left with no choice but to go back to your hometown which happens to be on the way to the ship’s destination, which you know because you overheard the sailors talking earlier

when the sailor glances in your direction, you try to nurse your expression into one of simultaneous distress and gratitude in hopes of selling the story even further

he simply stares at the both of you and you think that he’s going to turn down your request, but then the sailor gives a sweet smile and extends his hand out in greeting, “daeho. welcome aboard”

that’s how you and san find yourselves in the ship’s hold, legs crossed side by side on the wooden floor and surrounded by a multitude of crates and barrels

neither of you realise that you’re holding your breaths and it’s not due to the stale air in the poorly ventilated hold

only when the shout of “anchors aweigh” is heard and the ship slowly starts to pull away from the dock do you finally relax, the feeling of hope slowly seeping into your bodies

because all that’s left now is to wait for the ship to dock at the next port and then you and san can disappear and start a new life

at the notion of safety, your stomach finally calls for attention with a grumble

san teases, “sounds like someone needs a bit of food,” just as his stomach answers with a growl of its own

you break out into laughter and pull him up with you to snoop inside the crates for something edible

lifting the lid to one of the crates, you peer inside to find what looks like a layer of burlap

you reach down with a hand to remove the covering and dig deeper, only to jerk your arm back when you feel the burning pain of a cut

“oh fuck, what?” you hiss as you look into the crate again, “why the hell are there so many knives?”

san is beside you within a split second, already turning you around to cradle your hand in his

the cut extends across your palm and there’s something sickening yet eerily familiar about the way the blood rapidly starts to pool and seep past the broken skin

goosebumps spread across your body when it hits you

“san,” you look up at him with a trembling voice, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart, “it’s the same cut”

his eyes bore into yours with reflected horror when your words sink in

because if it really is the same cut, then that means-

san’s attention suddenly shifts to behind you and that’s the last thing you register before your head explodes with blinding pain

your world turns black.

there’s a ceaseless hammering in your skull when you regain some semblance of awareness and it takes all of your willpower not to let the throb drag you back into unconsciousness

you open your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your vision, only to find san still out cold on the floor beside you

you scrabble closer towards him and brush his fringe out of his eyes

“san,” you shake him a little, “san, wake up”

his mouth tightens into a grimace as he’s slowly brought back to consciousness at the sound of your voice

“fuck…they hit hard,” he props himself up with another curse before he asks you in a panic, “are you hurt?”

you start to shake your head but then think better of it, “my head hurts like a bitch, but i’m okay”

san pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you

you let yourself sink into the safety of his embrace, pretending that everything is okay even if just for a moment

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” san repeats the apology into the crown of your head

you can’t do anything but return hushed whispers of comfort and hug him tighter

a sudden clang draws you out of his arms as you both turn in the direction of the sound

that’s when you realise you’re no longer in the hold

you’re in a cell

the brig of the ship is much darker and the air is suffocatingly musty from the lack of ventilation and the perpetually damp floors and walls

damp from what exactly, you really don’t want to know

you hear the heavy thud of boots amplifying as the person approaches your cell, your eyes straining to make out their face in the dark

they squat in front of your bars

the sweet smile on daeho’s face makes him look crazed now and you shrink back to put some distance between you two

“did you have a good rest?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious

at san’s seething growl of anger, daeho raises his hands up in faux surrender and states, “i just want the cromer”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” san glowers

the other man wriggles his fingers at san’s waist, “you’re not very good at hiding it in your shirt”

almost as if it knows it is being talked about, the cromer flashes from under the layers of cloth

“why didn’t you just take it from us earlier,” you bite out

daeho clicks his tongue with a disappointed smile, “but then where’s the fun in that?”

he stretches a hand out and waits with his palm upturned just outside of the cell bars

“now give it to me,” he demands

san stares in retaliation, not once looking away as he slowly reaches for the cromer

he takes it out of his shirt and unwraps the sash from around it, then starts to extend the hourglass out towards daeho’s hand

as you watch with bated breath, you notice the subtle tightening of san’s grip around the metal casing and you realise he intends to flip it

except you’re not the only one who comes to the same conclusion

you see the exact moment the facade drops from daeho’s face and is replaced by his true derangement

the hand by the pistol at his side starts to move

but so do you

this time, everything turns red as the scorching heat of pain paralyses your entire body

the cromer falls to the floor at the same time as you do

from outside the cell, daeho laughs viciously, but it’s drowned out by the agonising cry that comes out of san’s chest

san desperately gathers you in his arms, hands pressing against the bullet hole to stem the blood flow

but there is so much blood

it’s everywhere

the ground digs into his knees and he’s wet and sticky from your blood but also from his own tears and there are so many tears and even with the pungent smell of iron in the air he can still smell the mustiness of the cell and he can’t get enough oxygen into his lungs because god you’re dying

and he’s suddenly struck with the heart-wrenching thought

did he unwittingly condemn you to your own fate?

or is it like the cut on your palm - is he unable to change fate no matter what decisions he makes differently?

the sob that wrenches itself out of san hurts you more than anything

“i love you,” you say, because your words are numbered and you want them all to be san’s

he shakes his head furiously, “shut up, you’re going to be fine”

your words come out effortfully, “please, i want to hear you say it one last time”

“fuck,” san buries his face in your shoulder, “i love you so, so much. i can’t live without you”

he pulls back heartbroken, “i can still change this”

through your waning breath, you reach a trembling hand up to cup san’s jaw

“s-san, don’t do it”

he lets out a racking sob as he shakes his head again, expression marred with agony and torment that you can physically feel in his white-knuckled grasp that covers your own hand

the tears that drip off his jaw become lost to the damp ground

you swallow the metallic taste in your mouth, “the cromer isn’t meant for changing fate.” it hurts to take a breath and you wince as you stutter. “it never goes th- the way you want it to…you know that by now”

san’s voice is broken and pained, “i don’t fucking care. it’s not going to stop me from trying”

he grips your hand even tighter when he starts to feel it fall away from his cheek

it’s becoming tiring to keep your eyes open

maybe you can rest…just for a little bit

san will forgive you, right?

you close your eyes

just for a little while

just until the pain stops

faintly, you think you can feel your body being jostled against something warm

but it’s far away

far away

far

san clutches your limp body as he lets out a primal wail of anguish

you cannot die

you will not die

he snatches the glowing hourglass and flips it with desperation screaming in every cell of his body

and then his world goes white.

mingi

pov: you're the crew's surgeon

you have all the time in the world to yourself

the recent raid was successful - the other vessel had surrendered quickly without putting up a fight and your ship is now well stocked up from the loot of supplies

hongjoong has promised the crew shore leave, a vacation of sorts, and so you and the crew are travelling to port malthov, a haven island for pirates

it’ll take about a week to arrive

and without a foreseeable raid or run-in with enemy vessels, there is no need for your medical duties

which is a good thing, really

but it also means that you have a lot of time

and time is your worst enemy

time is time alone with your own thoughts, time alone with your internal demons, and right now, your mind is a sinkhole of them and you are the very thing being pulled into its depths

you’re sprawled out on the upper deck, arms and legs splayed like a physical manifestation of your efforts to reach the edges of the sinkhole and hold on

you think to yourself that it’s reassuring when you can see blood

because it’s visible, physical, and you can fix it

step one, rinse the area with clean water

step two, disinfect the wound

step three, remove any foreign objects or dead skin

step four, suture as required for nastier injuries

step five, wrap a clean cloth over, under, over, under, then fasten

there’s a procedure and it makes sense

but when it’s invisible, what do you do?

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

you may be the crew’s surgeon, but you wonder how qualified you truly are if you can’t even fix yourself

the skies are clear today and the sun shines down directly on your exposed skin

it’s uncomfortable but you don’t move, limbs feeling just a little too strung tight to cooperate

you don’t think you have the energy to do much more than to just lie there and exist

and the burn of the sunlight is kind of nice

it tells you that you’re still alive - even if the feeling of living is pain

that’s where mingi finds you twenty minutes later, his face upside down as he leans over to look at your face-

only to very nearly drop a block of wood right onto you

“oh, shit,” he fumbles as the multitude of items he is carrying to his chest falls and clatters onto the deck around your head

you jolt up to save yourself from a bruised forehead and eye him, curiosity well and truly piqued

with a huff, he piles everything in front of you, followed by himself as he sits cross-legged in front of you

he looks suspiciously hopeful and expectant

“can you carve me another dolphin?”

months ago, you had tried carving ornamental animals out of small scraps of wood left over from a hull repair

most of your carvings had turned out hideous and you had tossed them overboard, but mingi had not stopped following you and begging until you gave him one

you could barely even call it a dolphin, but for some reason, he has kept it since like it’s something valuable

“i already made you one,” you start

but he protests, “i lost him!”

you blink

nevermind. maybe not so valuable

“...you lost it?”

you’re not sure whether you’re disappointed or relieved that it’s forever gone to the void

“i lost him, yes. so can you please carve me a new one?”

you blink once more and he looks back at you with wide, pleading eyes

“fine, pass me the knife,” you finally relent

he grins, handing something that feels quite familiar into your outstretched hand

“are these my scalpels?!” you clutch them defensively to your chest. “mingi, i am not carving wood with these”

mingi breaks out into pleased laughter, crescent eyes and gaping mouth as he produces a pocket knife that you can actually use

“you’re ridiculous,” you tell him, setting your medical instruments safely to one side, but you don’t really mean it

you bring the blade of the pocket knife to the edge of the wood and start whittling away

you expect mingi to get up and leave you to your devices, except he doesn’t

he stays and asks you question after question about the carving

which part are you working on now?

how do you shape the tail?

what was the first thing you tried to carve?

if you could carve something else after this, what would it be?

and it goes on for hours - as the wood gradually takes shape of the animal, as the harsh sun lowers and is replaced by the cool breeze of evening

…as mingi fills up your sinkhole and you are no longer grasping at the edges to stay afloat

it happens without you even realising, but he lets you take refuge in him from your own thoughts

and later that night, when the crew are preparing to sleep for the night, mingi will place the newly-carved dolphin at the head of his hammock

he will itch to rummage through the small chest that holds his personal belongings and treasures

he will want to unwrap the small object he has hidden away at the very bottom of his chest and put it side by side with the dolphin

but he won’t, because otherwise you’ll see the two dolphins and realise that he was lying about having lost the first one, so he’ll opt to keep it hidden

mingi thinks that he might even ask you to carve him something else tomorrow

he’ll say that his dolphin needs somebody by its side

what he won’t say though, is that he knows you need somebody by your side

and if he can offer you a few hours of mindlessness while you carve with him beside you, then he’ll ask you to make him a whole aquarium of animals

but that’s tomorrow

for now, he lets you rest on him, and you find that it doesn’t seem quite as hard to exist anymore

because sometimes, even surgeons need their own healers

you don’t have another bad day that week

technically, they’re all still bad days, but they aren’t as bad

but as it is with your luck, it all comes back to drag you underwater when the arriba pulls into port malthov and lowers its anchor

of all days, your head feels foggy, your body feels empty and your lungs feel laboured

you’re not even sad

you’re just…hollow

and the worst part is that you have absolutely no reason to be feeling this way

being up in the crow’s nest for once has given you the perfect vantage point to watch as the majority of the crew precariously run off the gangplank with whoops and hollers, splitting off to explore the town

their excitement is infectious - to everybody but you

instead, you had offered to take over yeosang’s lookout duties so that he could go to the town’s tavern

you’ve already rotted the morning and most of the afternoon away and your stomach grumbles in protest at having skipped both meals

it knows that you probably won’t be eating dinner either

“y/n,” a voice calls out to you from the deck, “are you not going into town?”

you peer over the edge of the nest and find mingi’s small form, his head craned upwards in your direction

“lookout duties,” you simply say

but mingi calls your bluff

“the whole point of shore leave is that we all get time off. captain’s still on board to make sure our ship doesn’t catch on fire or some shit, don’t worry”

when you still don’t make a move, mingi starts to climb up the rigging and you startle to your feet

“heavens, okay, i’m coming down”

he’s banned from rigging duties for a reason

when you land on the upper deck, he looks awfully smug with himself

he asks, “can we go eat seafood? not fish, but like the good stuff”

“since when did you like seafood?”

“always?”

mingi did not always like seafood but you let it slide

he guides you across the gangplank and towards the bustling streets of the town, keeping you tucked closely into his side

almost like he knows you’re feeling more fragile than usual

you two come across a market and he tells you to find a table in the outdoor seating area

when he returns to you after a while, both his hands are stacked with platters of shrimp, some crabs and even a lobster

“mingi, what-?” you break out into an astounded laugh

you can’t even find it in yourself to finish your sentence because it looks like he’s bought enough food to feed half your crew

he sets the plates down in front of you, one by one, until you can barely see the table itself

and you watch, still incredulous, as he picks up a steamed shrimp, meticulously peeling off the shells that he discards onto his plate

…before placing the peeled shrimp onto the plate in front of you

“eat,” he encourages

mingi picks up another shrimp to peel, looking away from you so as not to pressure you

but he can’t help but look and smile widely when you do eventually bring the food up to your mouth and take a bite

it tastes good

shrimp has always been one of the things you miss the most when you’re sailing and as the salty taste of the ocean spreads across your tongue, you start to feel your appetite returning

by the time you’ve swallowed, there’s already another shrimp on your plate, peeled and ready for eating

mingi smiles knowingly when you groan around your next bite

the sun may have already started to disappear into the horizon, but right now with mingi’s plate piling up with discarded shells and yours with juicy shrimp meat, the hollow cavity in your chest slowly filling with warmth, the sun is only just starting to rise for you

and mingi will keep filling your plate until your sun has fully risen into the sky

because sometimes, healing needs the help of an extra pair of hands

the day before your crew is scheduled to leave port malthov, you find yourself sitting on the sandy shores of the coastline, far away from where the arriba is docked

the wind tugs at your hair and the hems of your clothing in the direction of the ocean

you wonder what it would be like to just let yourself go and float along with the wind

your thoughts are interrupted by the soft squeaks of bare feet in the sand approaching you and mingi lowers himself down to sit by your side

no matter where you hide, he somehow always finds you

you give him a small smile when he calls your name in greeting, but it’s all you can really manage to do

it’s hard for you to talk today

but he already knows that

“can i tell you a story?” mingi isn’t really asking you

without waiting for a response he knows you can’t give, he starts to talk

“i don’t think i’ve told you about the time when yunho and i went skinny-dipping at night. i swear we saw the kraken that night”

he has told you this story before

more times than you can count on your fingers and toes combined - to the point where you have some of his exact phrases and expressions memorised

mingi knows he’s told you this story before

but he drones on anyway, adding his usual touches of dramatic flair and exaggerated details - words that he hopes keep you grounded to the spot so that you don’t disappear with the wind

(“did you know that yunho’s chest goes red when he screams in fright?”)

you want to make silly little comments about his silly little story

you want to laugh in harmony with mingi’s own rumbling sounds

except you can’t

it’s like whatever you want to say goes through a paper shredder right before it comes out of your mouth

and mingi knows

but he is willing to take all the time in the world to tape your words back together, shredded piece by shredded piece, until he can make you feel heard and seen

and even if you don’t talk, he is there to do enough talking for the both of you

some things don’t need to be said - he understands either way

because sometimes, healing looks like walking backwards on any progress that’s been made and that’s okay

after all…mingi’s been there before, too

the arriba sets sail again and hongjoong allows the crew one last night of rest before your usual duties resume

the stock of fresh produce and meat won’t last for longer than a couple of days anyway, so you all feast your stomach’s fill of food and alcohol

someone brings out an accordion and you all gather together on the upper deck as jongho sings to the music, background filled with the lively rattling of shared plates and mugs being passed around

the air is chilly but it’s crisp and fresh whenever you take a breath of it into your lungs

where being with the multitude of your crew usually makes you feel lonely, tonight, it feels okay

and from beside you, mingi sings along quietly to the music

his voice is not like jongho’s, which is soulful, emotional and powerful

mingi’s voice is deep, honest and raw as he sings the lyrics to the song of a man who is drowning and yearning to be saved

he looks at you during the last bridge, when the key changes from sorrowful to hopeful and the words tell of a man who is saved by his lover

you smile back at him, genuinely content in this moment

and even if it is only briefly, even if you will still have bad days in the future, you think that today is a good day

because healing takes form in all different ways, and being loved is one of them

maybe one day, mingi will be able to confess that he loves you

when he’s confident that you’ll be able to accept his love

not in the way where he expects you to reciprocate the same feelings for him, no

but in the way where you are able to accept the fact that you are worthy of being loved

there are no medical diagrams, procedures or journals that teach you how to heal your own hurt

but you have mingi and he is making one for you

it’s written with the ink of love on the very pages of his own heart and he will not stop writing until the day you are well and truly happy

and even if it takes forever?

well

mingi’s got a huge fucking heart

and it’s all yours

wooyoung

pov: you find a stowaway on your ship

“we’re headed off course again”

“again?” you look at your helmsman with furrowed brows

yunho nods, sighing out his next words, “i can’t get a read on north. the needle keeps flickering”

you look at the compass that’s mounted at the helm and true to his words, the tip of the arrow seesaws back and forth over the cardinal point

a quick glance down tells you that the newer compass you’ve got in your pocket is also behaving in the same manner, needle twitching despite the practised steadiness of your hands

so you know for sure that it’s not a fault in the instrument at the helm itself

but even if it were to be faulty, you would never replace it

not when it’s one of the only things you have remaining of your parents after they perished at sea

“maybe we should ask him,” yunho suggests, beckoning his head towards the deck

although seonghwa hums thoughtfully, having joined you both at the helm mid-conversation, you look at him incredulously

“you trust that person?”

yunho shrugs, “it’s not like he’s given us a reason to not trust him”

well

considering said man had been found stowing away in the cargo five days after your ship had left alcarres, who then also tried to plead for mercy by reasoning that he was ‘valuable’, you think that there’s plenty of reasons to not trust him

yunho rectifies his argument once he sees the pinched expression on your face, “as in, since we’ve found him on board”

you close your eyes and exhale

admittedly, yunho has a point

and there’s been one too many times where the man has flippantly suggested navigational changes or casually observed shifts in the winds and waters - which all turned out to be accurate - for it to be sheer luck

you open your eyes and call out to the upper deck

“stowaway”

yunho winces as seonghwa chides you with a slight elbow to your side at your choice of name, or lack thereof

said man looks at you from where he’s helping san and yeosang swab the deck, mouth tightening with wariness

the last time you had spoken the same word, it was along with an order to throw him into the brig with his wrists bound behind his back

but considering that that was the extent of his punishment for stowing away on your ship and he is now mingling amongst your crew with minimal security measures on your orders too, really, he’s gotten off scot-free

the stowaway approaches the quarterdeck with hesitant steps

you jerk your head towards the helm, “help yunho navigate the rest of the way to vlasgar. just until we can dock and work out what’s wrong with the compasses''

despite the curtness of your order, his face scrunches up into an enthusiastic grin

“of course, captain!”

you’re taken aback by his demeanour because you’re trying to find a reason to distrust him

but he’s not giving it to you

you watch as the stowaway makes himself comfortable against the helm rails and easily slips into conversation and banter with yunho amidst intermittent pointers to adjust the rudder

seonghwa nudges you from behind, “give him a little credit”

you scratch your neck awkwardly before calling out to your helmsman

“keep me updated on the ship’s course”

yunho nods and then you clear your throat, quickly glancing at the stowaway

“and thanks…wooyoung.”

you turn and leave the quarterdeck before you can fully catch a glimpse of the delighted smile the man beams at you

because if he’s not giving you reasons to dislike him, then you’re going to ensure he doesn’t start giving you reasons to like him

except…wooyoung attacks when you least expect it

it’s the night before your crew reaches vlasgar, and true to his claims when he was first discovered onboard, wooyoung has proven his value by navigating your ship through the waters without the aid of the malfunctioning compass

his innate sense for shifts in the wind and waters, combined with his understanding of celestial navigation and use of dead reckoning has meant that he is extraordinarily precise with his route

honestly, he’s freakishly accurate to the point where it’s a little unsettling

at least that’s what you tell yourself

you and hongjoong have given the crew the night off from their usual duties in preparation for a few busy days of maintenance and intel-gathering once your ship docks at vlasgar

wooyoung offers to cook in the galley and whip up a meal as fancy as he can from the select ingredients on board

you don’t have a good reason to deny him, not when the rest of your crew looks at you with eager faces at the thought of a meal that isn’t just the usual salted meat, so you send mingi along to help him locate the ingredients

also to keep an eye on wooyoung to ensure he isn’t using this as an opportunity to poison your crew, but you’re not about to admit that aloud

and that’s exactly when wooyoung chooses to attack

he attacks your heart with his cooking

granted, the standards are rock bottom, but wooyoung utilises a deadly combination of rosemary, thyme and bay leaves to prepare a hearty broth with preserved beef

he serves hardtack on the side to be softened and eaten with the broth, and jongho even manages to catch a few fish that wooyoung then scores and grills with lemon slices over the fire

mingi must also be in good spirits because he takes out the reserve of dried fruits and nuts that he’s usually pedantic over and allows wooyoung to arrange them artfully in a wooden bowl as nibblers to go with the profusion of rum that will inevitably be downed tonight

the impressive spread of food is placed on the upper deck where the entire crew sit in a rough circle together

you take one bite into the beef and curse without realising

“fucking hell, what did he put in this?”

wooyoung freezes mid-spoonful across from you in the circle

realising your words sound petrifying without context, you awkwardly amend them with your eyes glued to your bowl, “i could eat this every day,” before shoving another spoon of broth into your mouth to shut yourself up

there’s a chorus of teasing oooh’s at your words and somebody sing-songs, “captain likes youuu-r cooking”

“i don’t,” you scoff, completely ready to bite the bait and engage in this childish argument

but it’s him who comes to your defence

“it’s not my cooking, it’s just the spices that make a difference,” wooyoung insists

then he’s gesturing to the grilled fish and telling everyone to try, diverting the attention away from you

you accidentally make eye contact with him and initially flicker your eyes away out of embarrassment, but when you chance a peek back at him he’s still looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically calm and gentle when usually all you can hear these days is his raucous laughter bouncing across the deck

…not that you can recognise his laughter or anything

you stare at each other for a few more seconds before you lift up your bowl of beef broth and give him a little smile

you leave it up to him to interpret it however he wants

and just before you look away, you see the apples of his cheeks rounding with elation

wooyoung’s potentially earned himself a few points with his cooking (and perhaps with his unfailing happiness too), but maybe you’re just looking for excuses as to why you’re allowed to like him now

when you decide to take a walk in town long after midnight, your quarters having felt stuffy ever since you’d docked at vlasgar, you’re surprised to find that you’re not the only one still awake

“i’m going out for some air and maybe a drink, did you want to come?”

hongjoong shakes his head, “hwa’s gone out too, i’ll stay behind”

you pause, wondering whether it’d be rude if you didn’t extend the invitation to wooyoung, considering he’s literally two feet away

“what about you?” you end up offering

wooyoung excitedly hops up to his feet, “yeah, i’ll come with”

to your own surprise, you find that you’re not particularly disappointed by his response

the streets of vlasgar are empty, considering the late hour, and your leather shoes clack in unison against the cobblestones as you walk together

you’re not really sure what to say to fill the silence but wooyoung easily talks about anything and everything and you’re content to just listen

your feet eventually take you towards a small alehouse and you both settle down at one of the tables further away from the live music playing

the oil lamps flicker dimly along the wall, casting small dancing shadows on the surface of your mugs of ale

“my father never liked the taste of ale,” wooyoung suddenly muses after a swallow

you note the use of past tense

“is he…still around?” you ask tentatively

he makes a noise of refutation, the quietest he’s been tonight, before he reveals, “he took his own life”

“oh, wooyoung,” you breathe out

he curls his hands around his mug, “it’s already been two years, but it still hurts”

in a moment of empathy, you gently place your hand over his

your tone is bitter when you reply, “time doesn’t mean that it hurts any less, it just gets easier to pretend that it doesn’t”

he looks up at you, surprised by the touch of your hand but also by the sorrow reflected in your eyes

“have you also lost somebody?”

you nod at his question

“my parents,” you hesitate before adding, “their ship got swept under a rogue wave, the same night it turned into a tidal wave that destroyed the city of light”

wooyoung looks at you with wide eyes, “the one along the north coast? six- no, seven years ago?”

there’s not a single person who doesn’t know about it; when an apocalyptic wave had wiped out an entire city overnight

he places his other hand over yours when you nod again, creating a sandwich of comforting hands in the shared experience of loss and grief

you smile wistfully and he returns it

“well now that we’ve exchanged childhood trauma, care to tell me the real reason why you were on my ship, stowaway?” you half-joke

wooyoung laughs, each breath a pronounced cackle of joy, and you find the corners of your lips pulling themselves upwards too

“i’m being chased by a lunatic who’s out for my blood,” he deadpans

“that would have been nice to know before i let you join my crew”

wooyoung grins wickedly, “i’m part of your crew?”

“i’m definitely rethinking it,” you banter before you add on seriously, “only if you want to be”

he pulls his hands back to salute you loudly, “it would be my honour to be your human compass! jung wooyoung at your crew’s service!”

“shut the fuck up!” you hiss in embarrassment, but there’s no bite to your words and you’re laughing into your own hands

you tip back the remains of your ale and then beckon to wooyoung, “let’s head back, shall we?”

“yeah,” he gives you a dazzling smile

he pushes his chair back to stand up and you head towards the doors together

just as you walk past one of the tables, a man abruptly stands up and knocks into wooyoung’s shoulder harshly

your hand flies out to steady him as the man stares at wooyoung, then turns to leave without another word

“what’s his problem,” you mutter angrily. “are you okay?”

wooyoung reassures you with a placating squeeze to your arm before leading you out of the alehouse

as you retrace your steps back to the ship, you pass by a rickety stall that makes you falter

the wood of the table is rotting and standing on its last legs and there’s a roughly thatched roof propped up above its goods

even though the stall is enshrouded by the shadows of the clouded moonlight, you still wonder how you missed it on your way to the alehouse, considering it’s the only stall along the empty street, and with a vendor, no less

there’s an old woman bearing the burdens of living across her skin and in her posture, sitting hunched on an equally as weathered crate beside the table

you’re drawn towards it - by its ambience, seller or the familiar instruments lain on the table, you don’t know

the woman’s head is covered by a dusty shawl but you don’t miss the way her eyes bore beadily into wooyoung as you both approach

you reach out and skim your fingertips across the cool brass of the compasses on the table

a frown adorns your face when you notice there’s something strange about all of them

like the compass in your own pocket and the one mounted on your ship’s helm, the needles all swing indecisively over the north point, as if some unknown force is meddling with the magnetic field of the earth itself

you let out a little scoff of disbelief, “they’re all useless”

with a final glance at the table, you and wooyoung start to walk off

but then a raspy voice beckons at your backs, a ghost of a hand that tickles the hair on the nape of your necks, “the only time a compass is useless is when you have something better nearby”

unable to ignore the sensation, you look over your shoulder, “what do you mean by something better?”

a toothless smile; one that appears to know a secret that it doesn’t want to let you in on

“true north”

her cryptic answer alone is enough to tell you that you’re wasting your time

she doesn’t say anything else when you walk off for good this time after bidding her a tight-smiled farewell, not that you would have stopped either way if she did

wooyoung hurries to catch up to you

as he falls into step with you, he asks, “do you believe what she’s saying?”

“of course not, it doesn’t make any sense,” you glance at the tavern you’re walking past, telling you that the port is close now. “how can you have true north?”

wooyoung’s brows knit together, “well, there’s that old legend that says true north isn’t actually a direction, but a-”

he’s cut off by an amused voice behind you both

“so it really is you…jung wooyoung”

when you turn around, you’re met with the sight of a man donning a long, velvet coat and buckled shoes - articles of clothing very obviously pirated from the wealthy

it’s evident that he and wooyoung are acquainted in one way or another, but from the way wooyoung’s face loses its colour, they’re acquainted in a bad way

immediately, your hackles are raised

the man’s tone is saccharine as he continues, “when one of my men said that they had spotted you, i didn’t believe him”

“what do you want?” you snarl at the same time wooyoung murmurs next to you, “it’s the lunatic. jang hyunsoo”

hyunsoo cocks his head as he stares you dead in the eye, “i want him. dead.”

your face darkens, unwilling to back down, “and why are you so intent on killing him?”

“oh?” he raises an eyebrow in delight at your answer. “you must not know who he truly is”

sick of his bullshit, you reach down towards your belt to unsheath a throwing dagger and hold it in front of your body, “i don’t care who the fuck he is. he’s my crew member and that’s all that ma-”

“he’s the man that the legends speak of. blessed by the sea gods, bearer of the oceans’ wisdom - jung wooyoung is true north”

those two words again

you don’t understand why everyone you come across today seems to be so fixated on the idea of…

suddenly, you remember.

legends tell a story of true north - not a direction pointing to the earth’s axis, but a person

a man blessed by the gods of the sea with the power to be all-knowing when it comes to the waters

he possesses the innate ability to navigate without use of any instruments or celestial bodies; the wisdom of which passageways and courses to sail; the subconscious understanding of mother nature and her elements

the powers are passed down through his bloodline for generations, but the blessing does not stay sacred for long

human greed and coveting eventually lead to the murder of the bearer of true north at the time, and the powers are transferred to the murderer, permanently staining the bloodline and commencing the paradoxical cycle of sinning for a blessing

however, this does not go unpunished

the gods of the sea are enraged and in their uncontainable wrath they cause-

your memory ends there no matter how hard you try to recall the rest of the legend

wooyoung interrupts

“if you kill me, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the consequences,” he tries to reason with the other. “just have a look at how close we are to sea”

you’re lost but hyunsoo sneers, “it’s not your power that i’m hungry for. it’s only fair that i spill your blood, after your father spilled the blood of my family”

at the mention of his father, wooyoung growls, “what the fuck do you think you’re saying”

“how do you think your father became true north? or better yet, let me jog your memory,” hyunsoo’s expression becomes hauntingly blank, “what happened seven years ago that wiped out a whole city because the sea gods had been angered?”

your breath hitches as you involuntarily whisper, the remaining piece of the puzzle slotting into memory, “...a tidal wave”

“yes,” he acknowledges your words but keeps his eyes drilling into wooyoung, “because true north - my father - was killed”

as were your parents by extension of the consequences

“killed by my father,” wooyoung concludes, voice frail as everything rapidly starts to reveal itself

one more revelation makes him look at you with a face of horror and remorse, “y/n…your parents…”

without hesitation, you push aside your own anguish for him

“wooyoung,” you warn, “it’s not your fault”

because you see it

the very moment his eyes start clouding over as he willingly takes on the burden of guilt wrongfully left behind by his deceased father - the same guilt that eventually took the man’s own life

wooyoung, who, with a heart and soul too pure, would rather take the blame himself than to push it onto somebody else

you step in front of him, knife raised in protection

because despite your best efforts, wooyoung had not only secretly stowed himself away on your ship but has also secretly stowed himself away in your heart

“what are you doing?” he tries to tug you behind him

there’s a teasing lilt in your voice as you stand steadfast, “stowaway, you’ve ruined navigating for me now - made it too easy for me and the crew. so you better fuckin’ take responsibility and be my compass for as long as i sail”

“how touching,” hyunsoo coos patronisingly before he draws the cutlass from his sheath, “looks like i’ll just have to kill the both of you”

you don’t stop wooyoung this time from stepping up to stand by your side, his own hands armed with dual daggers and his demeanour now iron-willed to fight

because if you’re prepared to fight for him, then wooyoung is prepared to fight twice as hard for you

tonight, either hyunsoo dies, or you both go down trying

the tension in the air is punctuated only by the slight scrape of your soles as you and wooyoung lower your stances and shift further onto your front feet

you had never believed in the sea gods until now, but you pray that they’re watching over you both

and indeed they are

they answer your prayers in the form of a deafening gunshot in the nearby tavern

hyunsoo flinches at the sudden commotion - only slightly, but the distraction in attentiveness is more than enough

now.

as you and wooyoung leap forward together in unison, weapons raised, the needles in your hearts’ compasses waver for one final time before they settle and point resolutely in one direction

your needle at wooyoung; wooyoung’s needle at you

because compasses will always point at true north and that’s exactly what you are to him and him to you

each other’s true north

jongho

pov: you're a mermaid who saves him

you follow the shadow of the ship’s hull, gliding effortlessly through the waters

you know that you shouldn’t be following so closely but it’s hard to refuse the temptation that comes hand in hand with storms

there’s a chance that vessels will toss cargo overboard as a last-ditch effort to save their ship from sinking

and if you’re really lucky, the vessel might sink entirely and you’ll be able to spend the next few days rummaging its ruins, scavenging for shiny treasures and intriguing objects

besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

no sailor or pirate in their right mind would think to cast a fishing net in this weather

you only have your carelessness and recklessness to blame, but regret won’t change anything about your current situation

you feel the strange lurch in your stomach as the fishing net you’re trapped inside is pulled out of the water, up along the side of the ship’s hull, until it levels with the gunwale

there’s someone standing there waiting

his face is still rounded and limbs still gangly with the telltale signs of youth

the fish around you jerk around desperately, a physical manifestation of your terror, while you lock eyes with the young teenager and grip at the net with white-knuckled fists

you are at his complete mercy

he stares in shock at your form, until you beg a single word

“please”

immediately, he draws a small pocket knife and starts to frantically cut through the net

there’s another questioning voice from somewhere on the deck that you can’t make out the words to, but from the way the boy in front of you picks up speed, you’re seconds away from being discovered

“come on, come on, come on,” the boy mutters through gritted teeth

there’s a slight jerk as he cuts through the strands of flax and a few fish slither their way out, the hole starting to become bigger

he lets out a hiss of pain when he accidentally slices through his own hand in his haste

but even then, he does not stop or falter

and then you hear it

the ripping of the material when the weight of yourself and the other fish tear the remainder of the net

you plummet into the ocean

and the last thing you see before the world above becomes blurred by the waters is the boy’s wide eyes peering over the ship’s edge as he watches you fall

jongho struggles to adjust his centre of gravity as the ropes stutter underneath him

he chances letting go of the rigging briefly with one hand so that he can wipe the rain out of his eyes, which is pouring down incessantly and obscuring his vision

overhead, the top sail continues to billow and flap in an angry dance as the rapidly shifting winds tangle it further

he swallows thickly and grips the rigging once again

he needs to climb up and untangle the damned sail, fast

one hand extending outwards to grab the running rigging, jongho supports himself on shaky legs so that he can unfurl the twisted edges of the sail from around the ropes

it’s difficult enough having to chase the mocking flits of the canvas in the gale, but it’s fucking hellish with the added lurching and pitching of the ship as it’s battered by the swells of the sea

he finally manages to get a good grip on the sail and tugs hard, feeling it give way and flush full as it catches the wind properly now that it’s free

except the force of it sends the material swelling right in his face and he slips

by some saving grace, the combined movement of another colossal wave sends his body careening through the air in a wide arch

he does not land on the upper deck in a heap of broken bones

instead, he plummets into the ocean

and the last thing jongho sees before he loses consciousness is the shimmer and flick of a tail

your body reacts instantaneously to the sudden intrusion of something plunging into the waters in front of you, your tail swishing to increase your distance

for a brief second your heart seizes up in fright at the thought of a harpoon

but then you see it - see him

apart from the young teen who had freed you years ago, you have never seen a human up close before

and certainly not one in the ocean; in your home

there is something about the man before you that is beautiful yet haunting

it is as if time and gravity have warped his very existence

you see a weak flail of legs, a desperate hand reaching for the surface, floating tendrils of hair, but even in the face of approaching death, his movements appear slow and graceful in the water

as the pockets of air and bubbles of foam dissipate from around him and cruelly escape upwards without him, the man stills - grand and slow as his form steadily starts to make a descent towards the sandy bottom of the ocean

in folklore amongst your merpeople, humans are as swift, sure and savage on land as they are aboard their monstrous vessels

and yet, watching the ethereal existence of this man before you, you realise that once humans are underwater, they are at the complete mercy of mother nature and her beings

you gingerly swim closer

when you wrap your arm around the man’s limp body, his skin is warm under your fingertips

you’re reminded of the fact that he is at your complete mercy

and so you swim.

the moment jongho regains consciousness, his chest involuntarily contracts in an attempt to take a huge, stuttering breath

he curls onto his side instead, one hand scrabbling in the wet sand and his other arm crushed between the ground and his upper body as he hacks up his lungs with retching motions

the salt water burns even more coming back up than it did going down and his eyes sting with tears

when the convulsions cease, jongho closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool sand, trying to regain his breath-

and bearings

the jarring clarity has him sitting up abruptly as he tries to recall where he is and what he’s doing

there was the storm

the tangled sail

him climbing up the riggings

falling down, down, down

and then…

you

your eyes widen when the man’s unfocused gaze suddenly sweeps the waters and lands on the small part of your face that is exposed and peering at him

instinctively, you duck underwater, the notion of hiding your existence from humans ingrained into you

but even though he only sees a glimpse of you, jongho would recognise you from anywhere

it’s hard to forget when he’s kept his eyes peeled on the waters since that day, hoping to see you once again

he can’t believe that the mermaid he once saved would end up being his saviour

but he guesses that’s what people call fate - an alignment of miracles

he glances around at his surroundings to find himself in the safety of a small cove

you dare to emerge your curious eyes again when you see the form of the man stand up with his gaze on the sand, seemingly in search of something

he fumbles along the edge of the coast, reaching down several times to grasp things too small for you to discern

it seems that he becomes satisfied with what he has found, because he then sets them all down in the wet sand - right where the tide kisses the shore in a teasing game of chase - and takes several steps backwards so that he is no longer close to the waters

the man scratches the back of his head as he gestures vaguely to the pile, appearing to want to say something before thinking better of it and turning around to pick at the driftwood further inland

you wait, trying to gauge his actions

but when it becomes clear to you that he is not attempting to catch you off guard, you cautiously swim closer to shore

you are able to rest your forearms comfortably on the shoreline’s sand from how close you get

and then you see it

a small pile of glossy pebbles and patterned shells

a peace offering of pretty things he could find that he thought you might like

you duck under the water again, but this time to hide your shy smile as opposed to an act of instinctual self-preservation

jongho looks at the hefty pile of dried wood that he has gathered in the meantime, deeming it enough to keep a fire going for the inevitable night he will have to spend at the cove

he’s tried his hardest not to look out to the waters, wanting to gain your trust

but he can’t help it this time when his eyes are drawn to the little mound of his sincerity in the sand

…only to find it untouched, and you nowhere to be seen

he tries not to feel disappointed

after all, you have no reason to trust him

so he sets his mind on starting a fire before the sun sets completely instead, trying to ignore the growing dryness in his throat

when he finally nurses a spark into a flame an hour later, jongho almost misses it in his fatigued state

but it’s unmistakable when he walks closer

gone is his own pile of pebbles and shells

in its stead is a jumbled collection of broken combs, rusted locks and a glass bottle

a peace offering of peculiar things you had found that you thought he might need

jongho doesn’t know it, but as he bends down to carefully gather every gift and safekeep them closer to his fire, he is not the only one with a bashful smile on his face

you tell yourself it’s purely curiosity and displaced familiarity that makes you linger and return to the cove the very next morning

you’re well aware what the risks are if you fall in love with a human

how many stories have you heard of mermaids and mermen alike, falling for a human, only for their love to be unilateral or rejected?

their tails slowly lose their lustre as gradual paralysis takes over until they lose complete control

quite literally drowning within their own body, they eventually sink to the bottom of the ocean to perish with the decaying wreckages of sunken ships…

and the countless corpses of sailors, pirates and other unfortunate souls alike

it’s ironic

no matter how much folklore makes out humans and merpeople to be different, you all end up the same in the face of death; buried in the soil of the earth or buried in the sand of the ocean bottom

side by side

jongho stands in that very ocean right now, sleeves and pants rolled up to keep them as dry as possible as he crouches over with the water up to his thighs

he would try to fashion a fishing hook or harpoon of some sort, but with the possibility that you may be close by in the waters, he doesn’t want to risk using anything that could hurt you

so he resorts to using his bare hands

you’ve been watching from the safety of the water for well over half an hour now, curious and slightly endeared by his clumsy attempts to grab at something

you’re not sure what, but you can see the fish as they dart teasingly through his legs and from out of his reach

for beings that are supposedly apex predators, this human doesn’t seem intimidating at all

so, very cautiously, you swim up closer to him

jongho feels himself freezing at the sight of you approaching - not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid he’ll scare you away

he holds his breath as you hesitate and linger just out of his reach, then swim up and bump his leg playfully with your tail as you circle around him once

he’s reminded of a puppy wanting to sniff out somebody unfamiliar and his eyes follow your form with rounded fondness

“hi,” he breathes out softly, “i’m jongho”

your tail swishes with sudden movement, splashing him with water and he giggles

you can hear it clearly even from under water and your heart nearly stops

if this man - if jongho - was a siren, the sounds of his happiness would be his song of calling

you want to hear it again

jongho sucks in a breath when you dare to emerge from the water’s surface, presenting him with a fish held carefully between your lips and one more in each of your hands

he’s a little dumbfounded at how easily you managed to catch them as he gently takes the one from in between your teeth

the still-flailing fish in his hands is peppered with two tiny neat rows of puncture holes where you had carefully bitten into it

he finds it so fucking cute, especially when you continue to peer up at him with expectant eyes, wanting to know if it was the fish that he was trying to catch this whole time

he wants to thank you, and not just for the fish

so he fumbles through his words when he asks, “would you like to eat with me? unless…” he trails off, “unless you don’t eat fish because…”

are mermaids technically fish?

did he really just offer you the mermaid equivalent of human flesh to eat?

before jongho can panic and try to salvage the situation, you give him a shy smile and nod

jongho makes a fire as close to the shore as possible without the wood at risk of becoming wet

as he spears the fish onto sticks so that he can hold them over the flames, you gather the courage to slide out of the shallow waters so that you can lay on the damp sand closer to him

whilst you can for short periods, you rarely ever fully emerge out of the waters because you leave yourself vulnerable without the full mobility of your body

but jongho makes you feel safe enough to do so

and he must at least partially recognise the amount of trust you are placing in him because he looks at you in awe, the unveiled beauty of your tail now in full display

your scales are a kaleidoscope of cerulean, mauve and periwinkle, reflecting onto the sand below you in a magical dance with each of your slight movements

he notices that the gradient peters out into shades of salmon and coral the closer the scales are to your waist and he cannot tear his eyes away from you

jongho thinks to himself that you were created by the hands of the sea god, who then named the word beautiful after you

and even then, the word does not seem to do you justice

“why are you staring?”

your voice is simultaneously bashful and teasing, yet jongho is utterly mortified that your first words to him are ones exposing his smitten behaviour

his brain kickstarts in panic and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind

“if your tail gets too close to fire, will you start smelling like grilled fish?”

for a split second, your expression contorts into one of pure horror, before the absurdity of his question breaks down the remainder of your reservations and you lose yourself in laughter

a pretty blush settles over the round of jongho’s cheeks and then he is also laughing with you

together, where the land and sea unite, the sounds of your shared happiness fill the air

his song of calling chimes melodiously in your heart even as you swim away for the night

but the dangerous thing about a siren’s song is that you don’t realise you’ve become captivated…

until it’s too late

you’re looking down at the object in your hands as you swim for the cove

it’s cream-coloured and smooth to touch, with several blunt tips extending from one side

you’ve always wondered what it is and so you decide to see if jongho will know

you don’t notice the large rock formation jutting out of the seabed until it’s almost right in front of you and at the last second, you flex your tail to manoeuvre yourself around it

except you must miscalculate your distance because you end up grazing yourself on the sharp edges of the rock

it doesn’t puncture your scales but it certainly catches you off guard - your organs and senses work in a way that ensures you never collide into anything so long as you are underwater

so then, why?

you look down and your heart drops

tentatively, you spin around once, eyes never leaving their focus

you realise it’s not a trick of the lighting or the water

your scales have started to lose their shimmer

jongho is beginning to think that you won’t show up today when you finally do, one of your treasures cradled in your hands and a smile on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes

(you weren’t going to show up, not after realising that you need to stop yourself from falling further in love with jongho if you want to live, but you decide to be selfish one last time and say goodbye, even if you’re the only one who knows it’s a goodbye)

“what’s that?” he gestures towards your hands with his chin as you slide your upper body out of the shallow waters, leaving your tail to be submerged when the waves come in

you uncurl your fingers with a shrug

“it’s a comb,” he answers his own question as he turns it over in his hand, “made out of animal bone, i think”

you look at him curiously as he sits down, unbothered about wetting his clothes, and you ask, “what’s a comb?”

jongho brings it up to his head and pretends to move it up and down

“you run it through your hair to untangle it”

he pauses as his eyes flicker to your hair then back to your face

“i can…show you how to use it…if you want?” he offers

just once, you’ll allow yourself to get close to him just this once

when you nod and sit up, jongho shifts himself so that he is behind you

you try not to shiver when you feel the heat of his chest enveloping your back as he reaches forward to gently gather the hair from around your face and neck

he steadies your head with one of his hands, the other bringing the teeth of the comb through the slight waves of your hair

his touch is soft and loving in the way he tries not to tug too hard when he encounters a knot

his fingertips skim against you intimately but with an innocence that betrays the fact that he has never brushed somebody’s hair before

you feel your shoulders relaxing into his touch and your eyes close, blissfully - and perhaps deliberately - ignorant to the fading radiance of your body

“are you feeling okay?” jongho’s voice sounds even more alluring when it’s right next to your ear and you can’t help but shudder this time. “you seem paler than usual”

he brings a hand down to your waist and turns you towards him so that he can see you better

you try to formulate an answer, “i…”

i think i’m in love with you

of course, you would never tell him that

but before you can tell him that you’re fine, you become distracted by the glimpse of something on his hand that’s still resting on your waist

a scar

“is that- how did you get this?”

you run your thumb lightly over the taut, white line that runs from his wrist to the knuckle of his index finger

as you’re suddenly reminded of the familiar memory of a teenager with rounded cheeks and gangly limbs, the man beside you with those very same eyes looks at you fondly

“i cut myself trying to free a mermaid from a fishing net”

your gaze is unfocused as you process the information

the effects of the shattering revelation are immediate and a terrifying numbness starts to creep up your tail

because what you didn’t know - what nobody in folklore knew - was that the effects of paralysis and onset of death are accelerated when you fall in love with someone again for the second time

years ago, your heart had been claimed by the young man who had freed you at his own expense

you had managed to survive the heartbreak due to the briefness of your encounter, your paralysis fading and tail regaining its beauty when you never saw him again

but the effects of your unilateral love have not vanished entirely as you and your merpeople have believed it to

they have simply lay dormant like a disease, waiting for the right time to resurface when your feelings are rekindled

and so now it snowballs and gains traction at a speed that cannot be stopped, racing to catch up on the numerous years that you have cheated death where you thought you did not love jongho

“why is your tail turning grey?” the voice of the man you love is pinched with muted panic

you never thought you would ever be afraid of your own tail; your own body

yet, when you look down to see the monochrome advancing up each layer of your scales, you are absolutely petrified

your tail is starting to look like a stone statue and you know it won’t be long until that’s exactly what you become - motionless and unmoving

“y/n! why is your tail grey?!” jongho repeats with a shout, in full blown panic due to your lack of response

you can’t- won’t die in front of him

your lower body is almost deadweight with immobility and you bite back tears as you’re forced to crawl pathetically towards the water with your arms

jongho scrabbles to his feet as he hovers next to you, hands wanting to help but not quite touching you because he’s not sure what’s happening and he doesn’t know what he can do for you and you look like you’re in pain but he doesn’t know why-

“don’t!” you bark out sharply

he freezes in shock

you’re frightened and angry and you want to yell at something, someone, but…

you could never yell at jongho

with a much softer, albeit shaky voice, you tell him, “don’t look for me”

and before you can hear the pained noise that escapes jongho’s lips, you drag yourself back into the water

except a few metres after you’ve submerge yourself, the unthinkable happens

you. cannot. breathe.

you’re drowning.

jongho doesn’t care if you’ll hate him forever, doesn’t care if this is the last time you’ll choose to see him, but he will not just stand and watch when it looks like you are leaving to die alone

his body moves with the decisions of his heart before his mind tells him otherwise

he dives into the water after you

the world distorts around him; a moment of weightlessness as the waters easily shift to accommodate his body; the bubbling sound of air pockets reverberating inside his very skull; the shock of cold that overrides every other bodily sense

jongho forces his eyes open with numerous blinks until he can see you

your form is eerily still, and yet, you remain bewitching

he kicks his legs desperately with one arm outstretched and as soon as you are within reach, he tugs you into his chest

you’re limp to touch, lips slack and parted as if the very essence of your soul is escaping through your mouth

jongho will not let you die

lungs starting to burn and heartbeat pounding in his ears, he presses his lips against yours

a kiss of life- 

he closes his eyes

-and love

but you don’t respond

jongho ignores his instincts even as his body screams to part from you and kick upwards for a breath

instead, he moves his jaws to kiss you even harder

and then he feels it

he almost sobs into you when your lips twitch weakly against his

with renewed vigour, you’re sealing your mouth around his bottom lip as you respond, capturing him in a real kiss

below your joined lips, your scales start to bloom with their full brilliance once again

your tail shimmers brighter than before, reflecting intricate patterns of fractals with each slight ripple of the water as you open your eyes to the sight of jongho’s face, beautifully swathed in the incandescence of the rainbow

you can move again

you flick your tail, jongho’s arms still firmly around your waist and you both burst upwards, breaking the water’s surface with spluttering breaths

he desperately treads you both backwards towards the shore even though you can easily hold your own now

“jongho, you-”

he takes one look at you before he cuts your words off and plunges himself back underwater, stunning you into stupor, until he re-emerges with another splutter

“your tail!” he yells with overwhelming relief, face still scrunched as he tries to sweep his fringe up and wipe the water from out of his eyes

“yeah…” voice muted as you process the fact that you’re still alive, “my tail…”

“fuck, you scared me”

jongho’s eyes are bloodshot as they stare into yours, and you know for a fact that they aren’t just red from the irritation of salt water

you bring up a hand to rest it on his chest, right where his heart still thumps rapidly under your touch, and you apologise with a small smile, “sorry…i scared me, too”

he huffs a little before looking at you earnestly

“don’t ever do that again”

the water is now shallow enough that jongho can stand, but it’s deep enough that you can still drift effortlessly

it’s the perfect harmony where land and sea unite; where a human and a mermaid interact

where you, the enchanter, and jongho, the enchanted, find a balance of love

“i won’t,” you promise

on land, humans tell a story of a mermaid who falls in love with a man

a mermaid who is ready to give up her voice in exchange for her happily ever after

but in the sea, merpeople tell a story of a man who falls in love with a mermaid

a man who is ready to give up his life in exchange for his happily ever after

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[lady-lauren]

❥ SHANKS X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: forced orgasms, some yandere vibes, dub-con to be safe, very inappropriate use of conqueror's haki, power dynamics (captain/crew), praise, creampie, Shanks is so mean but so good and I would die for him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“You’re gonna cum for me, darlin’, even if I have to take it from you.”

The weight of his words curl around your throat like a vice, blood pumping in your ears you until can barely hear his boisterous laugh. 

The smile he gives is so cheshire, so oddly genuine, it makes a shiver of fear run down the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s actually pleasure, but the emotions are too entangled for your brain to piece apart your state of mind. 

He’s not letting you go this time, not until he gets what he wants. 

“Shanks,” you plead, nails gripping into the black fabric of his cloak, “we shouldn’t, you’re my captain, and I—”

“And your captain knows what’s best for you. Promise.”

The playful lilt in his voice is disarming. 

He always lures you in so easily, and usually you can squirm away, calm your raging heart and pretend like you’re not the object of his desires. Because you shouldn’t be, you can’t be, you’re honor bound to serve him as your captain and you refuse to let lust cloud your relationship to Shanks. He helped make you a pirate. You’re more than a mistress.

Yet he’s already stripped you bare for him tonight, easy work for one of the most powerful men on the seas.

Warm lips press into your cheek as you turn your face from him, gritting your teeth as you deny his kiss.

Shanks chuckles in the face of your defiance, squishing his fingers into your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“You know, you really are cute, thinking you can stop me. Besides, don’t you want to follow Captain’s orders, hm? That’s why I picked you—you’re so loyal, always willing to please. But you should please and be pleased.”

His eyes close with a sincere smile, the pink scars nearly shining in the firelight of his room.

Perhaps you do forget sometimes how weak you are compared to him, to the man who can cut down enemies with a single gaze. 

Trapped between his colossal body and the wall, you have nowhere to run, no way to slink off and keep only ghosts of his touches. He’s going to make you feel every moment.

“Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?” 

“Trust me, I know, I know how good you’d feel, but I can’t—”

“You have no idea.”

Somehow he feels closer, as if the sun-kissed skin of his chest from his parted shirt is already blending into yours. He is darkness clouding over you, engulfing you.

He cups your chin with his hand, big fingers spilling down onto your neck. He slants his mouth over yours before you can protest, moving plush lips until you can’t help but moan. Spiced rum, aged and smooth, greets you when his tongue slides between parted lips. He kisses like a dance, like a back and forth that he leads.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you don’t have to ask why. You sense his conqueror’s haki in the air before you feel the power lick at your skin, dragging and pulling and hot. 

“Cum for me.”

Lightning quick, your tummy tightens, the pleasure centers of your brain on overload as he overtakes you. Desire boils down to your cunt like a poisonous liquid heat, unbearable, sinful, yet so, so blissful as your pussy flutters and you fall over the crest of orgasm. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck you, fuck, fuck…” Your eyes squeeze closed as the ecstasy is literally ripped from your body, like he somehow sunk his hand inside your core and extracted all the delight he craves. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

You can’t help but nod, because yes, it does, as if pleasure is bursting like supernovas underneath your skin. Your hands are clinging to him, one around the back of his neck, the other beneath his shirt, like you can’t help but be closer to the source of your heat.

“Shanks, I…” your tongue is so thick in your mouth, searching for words you can’t think of.

“Now imagine just how fucking good you’ll feel when you do that on my cock.” 

“Please, oh, god, please.”

His famous laugh greets your ears and you’re almost knocked back to the reality of who has you in his grasp. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re in his bed before you know it, eyes glassy at the sight of his naked body. You knew he’d be beautiful, but the actual view of him, on his knees, pumping his cock in his hand while between your legs has you whining.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head? Tell me.” 

“I…want you, so badly, and I-I’m sorry for pushing you away. I never—”

He shushes you, takes his hand from his cock so he can brush the back of his finger across your cheek, “You were just doing what you thought was right. Didn’t wanna just be my plaything, did you? I know you wanted to be my strong little pirate, but you can be both.” 

“Promise?” 

“Swear it.” He grins like a little boy as he mockingly draws an X across his heart with his finger. 

How can someone so deadly be so adorable?

Your instincts are flaring again, telling you to run, that once he sinks his claws into you, you’ll only ever be his. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, especially not with how good it feels when he buries his hand between your thighs, fingers playing in your wetness. 

Shanks is equal parts messy and methodical, swirling his fingers around in your slick folds before rubbing his thumb over your already sensitive clit. You cry out, back arching and nails digging so deeply in his pillows you swear you hear fabric rip.

“Think I made you wet enough to take my cock already, don’t you?” 

To prove his point, he slides his slick-drenched fingers between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You nod your affirmation as you suck against his skin, his eyes shining as you wrap your tongue around his fingers.

You eye his cock between his legs, preening at the thought of having him inside you. His cock is pretty, fat, already leaking and veins straining beneath silken skin. Red curls crawl up his toned stomach and you nearly drool around his fingers. 

All you ever wanted was to be a pirate, but the sight of your captain’s cock has you content to be a whore.

“Been dreamin’ about you in my sheets ever since I found you, darlin’. Knew you were the one for me, my perfect girl.”

“Oh please,” you gasp as he draws his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to your tit so he can pinch your nipple, “you know what praise does to me, Shanks.”

“Of course I do,” he sing-songs, grasping his dick and pushing his tip between your folds. He presses in, a cant of his hips shoving his cock halfway into your dripping hole. Your head falls back at the stretch, cooing at the feel of him. 

Shanks is clearly done chasing you, mindset moved to capture, to take. He bottoms out and immediately starts moving, grinning as he watches your pussy lips drag along his length. 

He wolf-whistles at the sight, making you flush with a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. So slutty already for me.”

Strong fingers push your thigh back, spreading you wide as he starts his pace. 

“Now,” Shanks clicks his tongue against his teeth, “let’s see what it feels like when I make you cum around my cock.” 

“You don’t, ah,” you gasp as his cockhead prods against a soft spot, “h-have to make me, I’ll—” 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

There’s no time to think, not with how fast he acts, a simple look into your eyes has you shattering until you scream. The pleasure claws from your depths all over again, more intense now that your cunt has his fat cock to convulse around. You suck him in deep as you fall, bliss blooming over every nerve ending. Your toes curl, your nails cut into his shoulders, your stomach nearly hurts from the twisting of your orgasm. 

“God damn, you feel so fucking good when you do that, get so tight around me.” 

“Sh-Sha—mhm, fuck,” you try to protest, to say something, but the way his body moves into yours is like the mesmeric waves, lulling you into a headspace of drifting euphoria. 

He’s all over you—hand in your hair, tongue sliding down your neck, lips sucking at the fat of your tits, teeth scraping along your curves. He’s all encompassing, snaking his arm behind your back until you're pressed against his thick chest and rocking with every thrust.

The orgasms have made you numb, all you feel is pure carnality, like now you just exist to fuck and be fucked.

For a moment you wonder if he’s still forcing it on you, but you decide you don’t care. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, haki or no.

Shanks brushes his nose down your cheek, lips hot and wet as he kisses your skin, “Touch me, baby, be with me.” 

Like puppetry, your hands trace his musculature, taking note of how his shoulders roll with every push and how his abdominal muscles stiffen whenever your cunt spasms from pleasure.

You kiss over the freckles on his shoulder, down to the thick bicep he no longer wraps in bandages. 

He groans as your lips get close to where his arm used to be, a purr from deep in his chest like you’re too close to something vulnerable.

“Gonna take from you again, darlin.’ Gotta feel your cunt suck me dry.” 

“N-no I can—I can do it, I can cum for you, promise.” 

“Mhm, where’s the fun in that when I can just make you?”

His hand snakes around your body, letting you sink into the bed free of his hold. He teases your clit just because he can, because he likes watching you wiggle and writhe and whine beneath him.

You suck in a sob, “Please, just a little more, more, and I—”

Shanks’ haki feels like the warm licks of familiar fire. He burns because you let him too close, stared too long at the flames. 

You’re sure he purposely brings the assault of his conqueror's power on slower, lets it bleed and blend with the ecstasy building from the sensitive pressure on your clit. 

This crest is bigger, fuller, like you’ve been thrown from the Red Force into the toiling dark ocean. Only it’s boiling, scorching and tugging the pleasure from deep within your belly. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back and whine, “too hot.” 

Shanks groans deep from his chest, fingers pausing on your clit as he feels you cum around him. His thighs shake, cock twitching and throbbing. Mean fingers dig into the softness of your belly like he’s clinging to sanity, holding himself back just enough to be in control. 

“One more, baby.”

He starts thrusting again, a slow grind into your depths that has red curls kneading into your clit. You feel him in your guts, your heart, like the beat of blood in your veins. 

“C-can’t, god, can’t, please.” Please no. Please yes. You’re back in an entanglement of emotions where no way is up, the sun still so far from underneath the waves.

Shanks buries his face in your neck, red hair fanning like embers across overheated skin. 

He sucks at your pulse, flesh between his lips, “yes you can, my good girl. For me.” 

You’re slammed into a new atmosphere, floating for seconds before being dragged back down, down to where you feel details of your name whispered against your throat and the pulsing of a thick cock as ropes of cum spill into tight, gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucckk, oh g-god, Shanks, hurts, so good, shit—”

You babble until your mouth runs dry, anchored by your captain’s bruising grasp on your hip. He has you flush against his body, heavy breaths syncing as you both float up from hell.

It’s like waking up from a dream when he starts kissing you, all feather-light and reverent. He sits up and his lopsided smile seems so sincere. 

“So proud of you, really thought you were gonna pass out there for a second.” He laughs playfully, blowing a stray red hair from his face. 

All you do is whine and shift your sore hips, gasping at the feel of his cock still hard and deep inside you. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before he pops his dick out—your heart beats are too erratic to count as seconds. 

He sinks praises into your skin, kissing down your breasts, your belly, making you jerk when he kisses the mound of your pussy. 

His breath is hot on your clit. That feeling has your mind shattering like porcelain, a sharp smack centering you straight back into reality. You sit up and stare at the scene before you, sharp-eyed prey watching a predator in the forest. 

“Shanks, no, please, for the love of god—” 

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he coos from between your legs, eyes closing and head cocking to the side as he smiles, “I’m not gonna take this one from you. Promise. Gonna let you do it all by yourself, nice and slow.” 

It’s easy to forget that Shanks is a bad liar when he shoves his pretty face down to eat his cum from your pussy. 

[elliottkay]

Every show and film and book I grew up with presented the military as a place where you’d find yourself. The military could be good, could be bad, and all that “glory” stuff was clearly nonsense… but shared trials made you stronger and forged ride-or-die buddies for life. And hey, it’d pay for college.

Then I joined. It didn’t work out. Every day ranged from tedious to toxic, even when we did genuine good. I made one short-term friend in four years.

I still loved those stories, but none of them were ever about the guy who joins up and doesn’t find himself and never belongs—so I wrote it.

Poor Man’s Fight is a rockin’ space opera built on shattered dreams, student debt, and space pirates. Lots of space pirates. It’s funny, it’s sober, and you’ll want to hug Tanner Malone even when he’s covered in blood. The real enemies are always capitalism and toxic masculinity.

And then comes the war with the corporations that built this whole dystopia, because the enemy is still capitalism, even for the aliens.

On a brighter note, Tanner does make it out of the military and into college, becoming the Deadliest Unpaid Intern in the Galaxy… and the Resident Advisor for a freshman dorm full of chaos goblins.

(Cover art by Lee Moyer, Julie Dillon, Dan Watson, and Brittany Torres, for which I’m forever grateful.)

If you’ve made it this far, hopefully you’re looking for where to pick this up. They’re all available on ebook and Kindle Unlimited, and everything from Poor Man’s Fight to Last Man Out is also in paperback and audio.

And bonus: they’re cheap!

[discordantwritings]

Taken Back (Crocodile x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, fem afab! Reader (reader is referred to as girl), degradation, oral sex, facefucking, clothed sex/ dry humping, idk what the nice tag for getting off on a shoe is

WC: 1.9k

Summary: Your old boss is out of prison and back in action. You know he doesn’t like loose ends so you make a play to kill him before he can kill you. Things turn out differently than you plan.

Notes: I am not sure if this is what the requester wanted but my mind went to places that I couldn’t stop and I hope they like it!

Tagging: @keiva1000

Sword griped tight you wait for the lackey pirates to pass as you sneak further into Karai Bari island. Sir Crocodile’s wanted poster weighs heavy in your pocket as you mentally run through your plan once again.

Get into his office. Kill him or die in the process. Finally be free one way or the other.

Shitty plan, but it’s the best you’ve got.

Ever since you heard the news that Crocodile had escaped from Impel Down you knew you had to do this. You knew he didn’t like loose ends. You knew him well, he was your old boss after all.

For years you had worked for Baroque Works, a special agent directly under Sir Crocodile’s rule. You would go so far to say you had a decent relationship with him, as decent a relationship as Crocodile could have. You appreciated his efficiency and ruthlessness and he appreciated your obedience and skill.

You were a spy, often away from Alabasta for months at a time, and you had been away when the Straw Hat Pirates had turned the country upside down. When you got back there was nothing left for you, so you had to rebuild your life. It wasn’t easy- but your skills were more than enough to keep you above water.

But then Crocodile broke out.

It was like a knife was hanging over your head held by only a fraying thread. In every dark alley you expect to see him or one of your old coworkers, every night you shove a chair underneath the doorknob so no one can sneak in. Living in fear wasn’t much of a life. So when you caught wind of your old boss’ new hideout you stole yourself a ship and started sailing.

Now you’re here, sneaking through carnival surplus and dodging the gaze of pirate clowns. You’re not sure how exactly Sir Crocodile got in business with Buggy the Clown but you can’t really spare that much thought to that right now. It’s just a fitting backdrop for your quickly declining mental state.

You navigate carefully according to the (thankfully sound) information you bartered for and avoid being spotted as you come up on the door to Sir Crocodile’s office. Instinctually you know it’s his- painted in that signature dark green he loves so much. Sword in one hand, short dagger in the other you seep your haki into the blades. Pitch black weapons ready, you shove open the door and prepare to attack.

Sir Crocodile looks exactly the same. You figured maybe prison would have done some damage to him, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still the same broad, imposing, terrifying man.

A man who was standing in front of his desk facing the door. A man who knew you were coming.

You falter in the door way as he smirks at you. All the adrenaline you were running off of evaporates in an instant as you’re faced with the cruel fact you’d be outsmarted.

You really should have known better.

“It’s been a while.” Sir Crocodile says, absentmindedly polishing his golden hook with a cloth.

“It has.” Is the best response you can come up with.

“You were really thinking of killing me? I really thought you were smarter than that.” The slight disappointment in his voice hurts more than the fact he’s going to kill you.

“I didn’t want to wait around to be killed.” You turn the dagger over in your hand, fighting to keep your willpower strong enough to empower the blade.

“Fair enough.” You feel his eyes slide over your form and you fight not to shrink away. “But what makes you think I want you dead?”

“What?” That wasn’t a question you were ready for.

“I don’t think I stuttered.”

“No- I-“ Your stance shifted, letting your guard down slightly. “I’m a loose end. You don’t like loose ends.”

Silence hangs in the air as he seems to contemplate that answer. “That is true. But why did you never think I’d want you working for me again?”

…

Admittedly, that thought never crossed your mind. You were caught up in the countless ruthless slaughters you had seen at his hand and hook. Never did you think that you could come back, that there was room for you to come back.

And now you’ve probably destroyed that chance.

“I clearly had a lapse in judgement.”

“Clearly.” Sir Crocodile pushes himself off his desk and walks over to you and you drop your now useless blades to your side, willpower having run out long ago. “If it wasn’t me this whole gambit probably would have worked. It was good to know you still had all your connections and skills. And no one noticed you sneaking around.”

“You did teach me well.” You admit as he stalks over to you.

“That’s why I’m not going to kill you.” Crocodile is standing only a foot from you now, grey eyes bearing down on you. “I’m going to take you back.”

A confusing rush of emotions swirl in your head as you process the fact that you’re not actually going to die and actually just got your job back. “Thank you sir.”

“You will have to work very, very hard to make up for this though. You did think about killing me.” He saunters back over to his desk, taking a seat behind it.

“Of course.” Of course you would never expect things to just go back to the way they were.

“Double shifts, and of course every bit of information you gained while I was away.”

“I will compile all that information for you.”

“And I expect you to come up with some other ways to get back on my good side. You’ve always been creative.”

He wasn’t implying anything. But the crazy cocktail of emotions, adrenaline, and honestly the way your mind was always a bit in the gutter had you thinking about less conventional ways to get back on his good side. There had never been anything between you two but you can’t deny that you’ve thought about it- I mean who could blame you? He was strong, commanding, and incredibly handsome. And, while you didn’t want to get overly full of yourself, you swear you’d occasionally feel his gaze on you when you weren’t looking.

If you were wrong your head might go back on the chopping block but if you were right then you’d get back in his good graces pretty damn fast.

Worth a shot.

You walked over to his desk, one hand trailing on the dark wood as you walk behind it. “I was wondering, sir, if there was anything I could do for you right now?”

He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, studying you before answering. “Depends. What are you thinking?”

Of course he was going to make you say it. You can see in his eyes that he knows what you’re implying. He’s playing with you.

You choose not to say anything else, simply letting your knees hit the ground in front of his slightly parted legs. You don’t move after that, choosing to fold your hands in your lap while you wait for him to give you an order.

“Oh well look at this. Seems you are smart.” He shifts in his seat, legs spreading wider. “C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him, hands quickly finding his belt. You swear you hear him chuckle but you’re too preoccupied with the large bulge growing in his pants as you unzip them. Reaching under his boxers you pull out his half hard length and your mouth waters.

He’s thick- so much so that you know it’ll be a challenge to wrap your mouth around him. But that fact only spurs you on further as you nuzzle up to his base and press sloppy kisses against it. You feel him harden under you and you flatten your tongue and lick a long stripe up from his base to the tip.

“Stop teasing.” His fingers thread through your hair, gripping hard as he pushes your head closer in warning.

You don’t need to be told twice. Taking his tip into your mouth you swirl your tongue around it a few times before slowly taking him further into your mouth. Crocodile groans in appreciation as you sink down, his cock slipping down into your throat until your nose brushes against his pelvis.

“If I’d of known you were so good on your knees I would have hunted you down the second I got out.” His grip pulls you back ever so slightly just so he can shove you back down again. “We’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

It’s thrilling to let yourself be used like this, the drag of his cock in your throat foreign yet intoxicating. You’re already soaked, shifting unconsciously to try and get some friction to relieve the quickly growing ache. Of course Crocodile notices.

“Are you such a whore that you’re getting off on this?” Your eyes flick up and you see him grinning down at you. “Spread your legs.”

You’re confused but you do as he asks, knees going wide and holding onto his thighs for support. It isn’t until you feel the tip of his expensive shoe between your thighs that it all clicks. You grind down on the hard surface and moan around Crocodile’s cock.

“That’s it.” Crocodile mumbles appreciatively above you.

You let him continue to use you, filthy wet noises filling the room as spit drips down your chin and onto his lap. When he’s controlling your head it’s easy to focus your effort on grinding yourself against his shoe. It’s humiliating, degrading, disgusting, and you love it. Your head swims with lust, captured in the feeling of his cock throbbing in your throat.

You know he’s close when his grip tightens on your hair and his hips buck up every time he shoves your face down. If that wasn’t enough signs, his mouth gets looser, filthy words spilling out.

“Fuck you’re too good at this- tight little throat was made for my cock, huh? It’s like you were meant to take me-“ The pulling of your hair brings tears to your eyes, just on the verge of spilling over. “You’re going to swallow what I give you- take my fucking load-“

You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you do your best to swallow as you’re still held down. You can only swallow so much before you feel him dripping out the side of your mouth and down your chin. Finally he pulls you off and you gasp for air, face still held up for Crocodile to see. His hook comes up to your face and collects the spit and cum on your chin. He presses the cold metal up to your mouth and you lick it up without a thought, earning a groan from Crocodile.

“Such a good girl.” You’re rewarded with him pressing his shoe up to your clit. “Be a good little whore and get off on my shoe.”

It doesn’t take long now that he’s helping, forced to look in his eyes as you moan and shudder, coming undone in a way you never thought you could. As you come down he lets you go and your head falls down to his lap, head light from your orgasm.

“You have certainly proven yourself.” You feel the hook lightly brush through your hair. “And now I’ll never let you go.”

[peanutbubba]

White Beard Pirates x Reader Talking To Another Man

Ace, Marco, Izo, Jozu, Thatch, and Vista! Gender neutral!reader, slight cursing, kinda got lazy at the end sadly, might be a little ooc for some of them since it’s my first time writing them, no beta we die like ace, requested!

———————————————————————

Portgas D. Ace

Ace is naturally a jealous man, he doesn’t really like to be, finding it to be an unattractive trait within himself however he can’t help it. Especially, when he finds you near another crew member, stealing all your attention.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize that you were missing for nearly half the day, gone from your routinely activity of finding him and giving a kiss to his cheek plus checking up on him. When he goes to find you he nearly crushes a piece of railing he was holding onto, realizing that you weren’t missing, no, someone had just been pestering you all day. No wonder why you haven’t been with him for nearly half of the day, this person was hogging you all to themselves! He’s quick to act though, a charming smile on his face as he plays up his outgoing personality, tring to cover his jealousy. Swinging himself over the side of the railing and walking over to you and the other man, warm arms wrapping tightly against your waist, pressing his chest to your back.

He tries to coax you into leaving with him, hands rubbing circles on your waist as he whispers softly in your ear of missing you. If that doesn’t work then he just glares at the other man until he leaves, eyes piercing and irritated. When the man quickly runs off not wanting to anger The Fire Fist Ace you look suspiciously back at Ace, his expression now changed to relaxed and loving. Again, he softly asks if you can hang out with him. Will give you puppy dog eyes if he needs too, please say yes.

Marco

Without a doubt, Marco is the most calm about you talking to another man that isn’t him. It isn’t exactly that he doesn’t care, he just is secure in your relationship and the fact that you’d never go behind his back. Plus, he’s very aware that you also deserve to have a social life outside of him.

However, he also prioritizes your safety and wellbeing above all else, should something happen to you he wouldn’t forgive himself. His trust in you is absolute, as always, the people you talk to not so much. Especially when it’s while you’re stopped at an island, his eyes are glued to you and that man, making sure he makes no attempts to put you in danger. As a person with a high bounty you’re always at risk of being put in danger, and while Marco is confident you can protect yourself that doesn’t stop his worries any less.

Hovering near the areas you are, or just full blown hanging around you, a charming yet deadly serious demeanor about him. He definitely feels less uneasy when you’re both on the ship around trusted people, and a hundred times more when you’re close to somewhere he can monitor your surroundings. Overall, not very overbearing about you talking to other men, so long as he knows you’re safe and that the man isn’t bothering you.

Thatch

Another man who would be pretty calm about you talking to another man is Thatch, probably would even join you in conversation with whoever you’re actively talking to if he has the chance too and you don’t mind.

As a more friendly natured man he’s quite happy when you meet new people, thinking that the socialization is good for you. If he’s not too busy then a lot of the time he’ll join in the conversation happily, pleased to talk with another person and especially you. If he is then he doesn’t really mind, he’s a little jealous that it isn’t him you’re talking to but just by a smidge, he gets over it pretty quickly.

He also does it to make sure you don’t get into any trouble. He wholeheartedly believes that you can absolutely take care of anyone that bothers you, he’s your #1 fan, but he also likes to be careful, especially if it’s with someone who isn’t from/is new to the crew.

Izou

With Izou it’s a complete 50/50 how he acts, completely depending on how the other person is acting towards you, or if you both know the person.

If you’re chatting with a man that both of you know that he’s completely calm, maybe every now and then his eyes are flickering to your form to make sure you’re okay, but he allows you to have your conversation in peace with the man, occasionally gives the man death glares though so he knows not to do anything. If it’s a complete stranger though then his entire demeanor changes.

Izou is a fiercely loyal man, whatever it takes he’ll ensure you’re safe and happy, so without a doubt if you’re talking to someone new then he’s sticking beside you if he can. Definitely has a mean face while looking at the man you’re talking to, he’s just trying to keep the man under a watchful gaze. A hundred percent scares the man off.. Izou is definitely more protective than he is jealous, doesn’t mean you can’t make him jealous though. If he is jealous then he’s quick to get whatever pest of a man is near you away, trying to steal your attention for himself.

Jozu

Jozu is very quiet, you never really know what he’s thinking until he actually says something. If you’re ever talking to someone else he’s especially hard to read, just staring at the both of you for a moment.

He’s just trying to make sure that the man has no bad intentions for you, his silence sometimes mistaken for brooding although he’s just trying to be through with his observations of the man. If the man is fine then he’s fine, only really looking back at you occasionally making sure you’re still alright.

If the man is a little strange or off putting though then he’s quick to act, smoothly and almost silently stealing you away from your company. If you ask him what’s wrong then he’ll obviously softly tell you, but once you both are far away from that weird ass man.

Vista

Vista barely has any bones in his body to be jellyfish, key word being barely. Although, that jealousy is more towards if that man is hitting on you rather than if you’re talking to him.

He just watches for a moment you and the man having a conversation, not very worried knowing that he can trust the way you act around other people. His eyes leave you for just a couple minutes, looking at something else before going back to you. Your body rigid and face clearly uncomfortable, the man talking to you clearly getting too confident for his own good.

Ooo, he’s mad. How dare this man make you, his lovely partner, uncomfortable! Definitely coming to your rescue as quickly as he can. If you’re okay with PDA then he might put a hand on your waist to get the man to back off, if not then he’s just casually whisking you away from that creep.

—

Im so sad, Jozu barely has any gifs!! Also this was pretty fun, made me write about characters I wouldn’t normally, which was cool.

Hope you enjoyed! Peas out.

[theminecraftbee]

Jimmy notices Scott sitting near the edge of the Ace Race launch. They’re both on the practice server; it’s a good place to hang out. Gets away from the kinds of lives they live elsewhere, even if Jimmy figures the one he’s got right now is good enough. Scott’s here a lot, Jimmy’s found; it’s probably some combination of whatever the weird messenger thing he has going on with Noxite is and the number of other lives he’s lived. Jimmy bets it’s just quieter here than, like, he doesn’t know, he’s heard something about pirates?

Anyway, he’s always down to say hi to Scott. Also, Scott looks—strange. Diminished feels rude. Not preening like a peacock? No weird ethereal glow? It can’t be that the romance has worn off, it never really did, not all the way, Jimmy’s always seen him as sort of made of lace and marble and beautiful things from the beginning and even now that they’re like, friends friends, it’s just—

Jimmy plants himself in the grass. He can’t find a poppy, but he can find a dandelion. Close enough?

“Flower for your thoughts?” he says cheerfully.

Scott looks up. He laughs. “You can’t be doing that, Jimmy. We’ll get double-married. I already have too many husbands, you can’t be on there twice.”

“I think I can marry my flower husband as many times as I want,” Jimmy says.

“We barely even do a romance anymore.”

“Well, excuse you for not being a romantic.”

“Me? I’m not the romantic? Me?” Scott says incredulously.

“Well I don’t know how it would be me,” Jimmy says imperiously. He pauses, huffs, and sits down next to Scott. “I mean, we can do romance if you want. Hadn’t done that the last few lives because, you know, work better as friends right now, but I can totally wow you. I can, uh. Uh. Make… chocolate? No, I can’t do that, actually, don’t hold me to that—”

Jimmy pauses.

“Scott,” he says.

“No, keep going,” Scott says weakly.

“Have I done something wrong?” Jimmy asks.

“No, no, it’s just—sort of being a messenger god, I get a feel for things, and—it’s gonna happen again soon, Jimmy.”

“Oh, okay,” Jimmy says. They both know what they’re talking about. “I’m absolutely gonna win this time, just so you know.” He says it with all the false bravado of a person who’s mostly just hoping he doesn’t die first again. This time, this time, this time. He’ll do it by his own merits, though; he’s not sure what he would have done if Joel had actually gone through with the halting plan to die for him that he’d told Jimmy about last time. Probably crowed on happily about it, honestly, but with needles in his stomach the whole time.

Scott hasn’t responded yet.

“You don’t have to worry. You’re way too good at this. Constant finalist, now that you don’t have me weighing you down,” Jimmy tries.

“I shouldn’t talk about this with you,” Scott says.

“Rude,” Jimmy says. “We’re husbands at least twice over.”

“Yeah, but do you ever regret it? Don’t you—don’t you regret it?” Scott bursts out. “Don’t you ever wake up and—and you weren’t good enough to protect them and you’re not good enough to be loyal to and frankly you aren’t good enough to follow the rules either and, and so you’re just constantly winning. And you aren’t trying and you just think, if you’d just—if you’d just fucking slowed down, figured out how to protect—this is stupid. I’m proud of Martyn. Got him to win, at least. I can’t regret him winning. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else. I never have. Forget I said anything.”

Jimmy stares.

“I don’t regret it,” he says, and he’s surprised to realize he’s telling the truth.

“Not even for all the mocking?” Scott says.

“I mean. Wouldn’t have teamed with Grian and Joel if…”

“Oh,” Scott says. He stares out over the practice server. Jimmy cannot guess what’s going on in his head. No matter how many lives they’re friends, husbands, lovers both star-crossed and casual, enemies, and friends again in, Jimmy has to admit, Scott’s kind of a closed book. It’s one of the character flaws he has to make up for being perfect at everything else.

It’s part of what makes him Scott.

“I don’t regret it,” Jimmy says, almost more urgently.

“Oh,” Scott says again. “I do.”

Jimmy’s not sure what to say to that.

He’s never been good enough at winning much of anything to understand that kind of regret, is the thing. Blessing, curse, whatever else, he just…

“Sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. Not normally the kind of person for this stuff,” Scott says. “It’s not that I’m not confident, it’s just…”

That, though. That, Jimmy can understand.

He scoots closer to Scott.

“Let’s race. I’ll totally beat you so badly. I was watching CPK do skips. And, I don’t know about you, but…”

“Yeah, you’ll hit those in your dreams,” Scott says. Neither of them move to stand up, though. They remain sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, watching other participants jump off the launch. It’s nice here. Quiet. A place apart from all the lives they live. Jimmy wonders if that’s why Scott’s here so much. Jimmy might have to show up too; that’s what increasingly old friends are for, he figures.

[bloodykora]

If you’re still doing Buggy headcanons: Sooo I always actually thought big noses on people are INCREDIBLY attractive. Give me men with noses that look just a bit too beaten up, women with noses that are big and wide, give me Roman noses and hawk noses and any unconventionally attractive nose and I am SWOONING.

… I feel the prompt almost writes itself at this point, what would Buggy think of someone who sees his funny looking nose not as a flaw but a mayor charm point and just constantly gives it kisses, traces it affectionately, boops it or comments (in all honesty and absolutely genuinely) how handsome and distinguished it makes him look, how it really suits him etc?

Wanna read about that man bluescreening because he hasn’t even treathened them yet to not make fun of his nose and they are already at the „flattering him to save themself“ stage? What do you MEAN you’re not saying that to safe yourself?!

This fucking anon/ask made me giggle so much, I literally showed it to my friends. I hope I did you and the prompt justice!

Enter the moment in Annie where Ms. Hannigan sees Warbucks’ diamond and goes “Oh my god, is that thing real?!” in shock but also delight. Me at that dude’s honker. (I want to be put on his nose like he has gangrene and I’m a leech who sucks on it to get the blood flow going) Also enter the Doja Cat quote of liking big noses.

- At first, dude is fucking weirded out. People have made comments and jokes about this stupid little red thing on his face and you… you think it’s attractive??? Huh.

- Definitely thinks you’re lying at first (and for the next few months), you’re literally the only person who is able to shut him up.

- Curtain drops, spot light is on, the blue haired clown walks in. Blabbering on about how his entrance should be more enthusiastic, but you got your eyes on your own prize, bright big red nostrils. If he wants an entrance, you’ll give him one by starting to clap loudly, getting so giddy that you start slightly hopping.

- “Oh my goodness, that is just.” Loss for words. “Are you making fun of me?” He approaches you, you hear him but his words don’t really seep into your brain at the moment. “It’s gorgeous, literally the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Your eyes are locked with his eyes and before he can even reply you reach up to brush your fingertip against his nose.

- Wants you dead first, no one has gotten close to touching it in years. And you, a low life nobody insults him like that. You get strung up immediately, your arm stretched so your fingers are out.

- “For that little ploy, I’ll take your fingers first and then your life.” Yes you’re scared but really could you regret it? This was the pirate’s life. “Oh, darn. Well, I’ll at least die happily. My eyes set on the most lovely nose I’ve seen in my years of life.”

- Thinks you’re still making fun of him until a few compliments later it clicks in his head that you mean it, with no hint of sarcasm or mockery. He lets you down, immediately ordering his crew to take care of the others you came with while he returns (runs) to his quarters. He’s a little intrigued by you, willing to die for a graze of his face. He keeps you as well, not that you’re upset by it.

- Crew thinks you’re hilarious, stopping a task to gaze longingly at the captain until either he realizes in which he shoos you back to work or he walks away. You boost his ego a ton though.

- From a distance he can ignore the thoughts he knows you’re thinking but up close, when they’re said in front of the crew, other pirates, hostages. He’s been known to cover your mouth with something so he doesn’t freeze up. When yall get together though, its game over.

- The first time you licked it, he almost saw some form of god. The angel's chorus was in his ears and he couldn’t help but say a little prayer in his head about you.

- Kissing it at least 3 times a day for good luck, rubbing up and down the bridge to soothe him to sleep, nipping at it when you feel playful. Not to mention he now has your voice in his head if he ever insults it going: “That’s not true! It is like one of the top 3 of the things I love about you and if you are mean to it again then I’m gonna cut it off and keep it all day!”

- Laying in his bed just watching him go about the day when you drop a “If my memory was wiped tomorrow I hope I’d get to keep at least the picture of your nose in my head.” before just turning over and going to rest. You hear him physically stop in his tracks and then a thud, he had let go of a boot.

- He doesn’t ever want to ask for praise about his nose on the days where he feels more insecure but you can tell by the way he rubs it on your collarbone and shoulder. You immediately pull out the good old “Have I told you how dashing attractive your nose is today? I seriously would just hop on and ri-” he doesn’t let you finish the sentence, cutting you off with a kiss knowing where it’s going.

- If anyone comments on his nose, you are the first to bite back. Threatening to cut out their tongue and string it up for future people to understand their place. Then squish Buggy while speaking highly of his stunning feature and how lucky they are to see it in the first place.

- You’re kinda crazy but hey, so is Buggy and he loves that you’re insane about him and his nose.

[quarterlifecrisis-activated]

I find it interesting that Stede is the unintentional cause of all 3 deaths of characters that represent toxic masculinity. Symbolically and thematically it’s just *chefs kiss*.

First take the Badminton twins. Stede is the opposite of toxic masculinity, he’s soft and picks flowers and cries and creates a safe space for meaningful male (for the most part) friendships. When Nigel and Chauncey die it’s because they were berating and attacking Stede and this form of masculinity. They also die by their own weapons unintentionally killing themselves. Toxic masculinity will always destroy itself because it’s hollow. If Stede and the crew are family and joy and connection the British navy is the system. There is nothing there to actually help people. But it’s so pervasive, one falls and someone else steps up. Same face, different name (literally). OFMD says that attacking this new way of life is meaningless because it is built on something more and trying to combat it will only turn inward. The Badmintons die alone and no one notices or cares.

Which brings me to Izzy Hands. I have a soft spot for that little nightmare (affectionate), he’s the character that I still haven’t pulled apart fully. Yes it’s Stede’s plan that leads to Izzy’s death but I don’t think Stede’s involvement is the same like for the Badmintons. It’s Ricky that’s important in the thematic meaning of Izzy’s death. Izzy is the toxic masculinity of the pirate world. It’s pretty clear that Izzy is the stand in for piracy and the old way of doing things. And he hates Stede! He also wins at the end of season 1. He removes everything touched by Stede from the Revenge and boy does it backfire. Raids for the sake of raids and no interpersonal connection sucks. And it was everything Izzy fought for in season 1. Continuing the idea of self destruction, I find it interesting that Izzy tries and fails to shoot himself. By his own hand and all alone. I believe it was Con who said that that moment was the death of Izzy Hands as we new him. Upholding a system just for the sake of upholding the system costs you everything and leaves you with nothing. And Izzy sees that and he changes!

If someone had told season 1 Izzy that he’d lose his leg that man wouldn’t bat an eye. But if you told him his new leg would be a gold painted unicorn hoof he’d go into cardiac arrest. But it’s his acceptance of what the crew made him that brings him into community. It’s a visual representation of what is going on internally and it culminates is his full look during Calypso’s birthday. He’s fully turned away from what was and put on this softness and femininity that makes him part of the crew. And I think that’s such a beautiful sentiment and I tear up every time I watch that scene.

Which brings me to Ricky. I mean, fuck that guy amirite?! He’s the worst and I wish we would have seen more of him. I think his conversation with Izzy is also so fascinating. It parallels nicely with Izzy meeting Chauncey in season 1. Izzy could’ve saved his own skin if he worked with Ricky like he did with Chauncey, if he upheld the system and played along. But he doesn’t and I love it. It’s so impactful to give Izzy that speech because every other member of the crew was already with the program. Having a character that was on the other side go actually fuck you you’re wrong is amazing storytelling. Izzy has learned his lesson and while he’s far from perfect he’s doing better every day. And that’s profound especially when you talk about trying to change people who upheld these toxic ideals. But it’s because of this rejection of toxic masculinity that Izzy dies. There’s no loyalty in the system; just because you helped them once doesn’t mean that it won’t spit you out and discard you. Even the people who have power in the system (white men) are not valued by it. But true community gives value. Izzy dies this time not alone but surrounded by people who care about him. The people around him when he dies pretty much all wanted him dead in season 1 and now they mourn and remember him fondly.

Izzy’s arc with crew is wonderful because it’s the shows thesis on unconditional love and the willingness to be kind even to those who don’t deserve it. Because look at how it helped everyone. To be loved is to be changed and it’s no surprise that the last shot of season 2 had Izzy and Buttons together changed.

[queerfandomtrifecta]

How Izzy’s Death Could’ve Made Basic Storytelling Sense

Just to be clear, Izzy is my favorite and I wanted him to live more than anything. This isn’t about that, and that is NOT why I hated his death. Had it served the narrative in a way that made even the most basic storytelling sense, while I’d admittedly have been devastated in a different way (i.e. the character whose queerness was relegated to the subtext in s1 and as soon as it’s textual and his whole arc is that he’s killed, but that’s a whole separate post…), but at least there would’ve been a correctly crafted arc from a surface level narrative standpoint that ended in the death of my favorite character. But that’s not what this is about. It’s is about how the show could’ve actually made the death actually make sense and work effectively. (Also, if you want my unasked for thoughts on how most of the existing plot of s2 (minus 7-8) could’ve easily been adjusted to fix the narrative as a whole and keep Izzy alive, I wrote this)

But. For those in the fandom insisting that Izzy HAD to die, including DJenks who has said as such in interviews (for reasons I do not understand), from an objective developmental editor standpoint, this is what I think needed to change to make Izzy’s death serve the narrative, character arcs and dynamics, pacing, structure, and thematic elements correctly.

It’s about 2K words just so you know what you’re gonna get into. Spoilers under the cut.

Issue 1. Izzy’s relationship with the crew and how they truly became his family this season totally vanished during his death scene. The same crew who he protected from Ed during the later, worse parts of the Kraken phase. The crew who banded together to save his life by hiding him from/lying to Ed about it, and amputating his leg to save him. The crew he saved by crawling up those stairs during the storm, hobbling out into the rain with one leg and shooting Ed before he could shoot a cannon ball through the mast and kill them all. The crew who called him “our dick”. The crew that then banded together with Stede’s half of the crew to him the leg and the new unicorn (aka the figurehead of the ship). That crew didn’t cry a SINGLE tear when he died. What?? Fang sobbed most of episode one and really lost it when Izzy got shot. Where was that when he died?? Izzy’s last speech to Ricky had something along the lines of: piracy is about belonging/family. We are Good. (Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist). Izzy truly did find his family in the crew outside of Ed. That was absolutely fantastic, especially in the first four episodes and episode six. It VANISHED when he was dying and dead.

The fix: To make the death impactful, effective, or even to make it make sense on a very basic acting and writing level, the crew should’ve been utterly DEVASTATED. At least heartbreaking music and like 30 seconds of everyone breaking down and holding each other. At least some of them crying and holding each other in the background when he was dying. Come on.

Issue 2. Thematically speaking, is piracy Good or Bad? Again, Izzy tells Ricky that they (the pirates/his crew) are capital G Good. Yet Ed has spent a lot of time maintaining piracy is capital B Bad. He tells the urchins as such. Here’s some money that I never had, now you don’t have to be pirates. Don’t be pirates. He doesn’t want Stede to kill Ned Low in cold blood. Ed just doesn’t want to be a pirate. Even at the end AFTER Izzy dies telling Ed he’s with his family (implied that this is the crew) and they love Ed, Ed LEAVES THAT FAMILY AND LEAVES PIRACY IMMEDIATELY. We’re left with him and Stede watching the family Izzy swore was Good and loved Ed sail away because Ed thinks piracy is Bad. Which is it?? The death served nothing in convincing Ed he could be happy with his found family on the sea as Ed, not Blackbeard, so the dying words were pointless. The thematic elements are all over the place (for the whole season but that’s another post) and that needs changing to make the death scene make sense.

The fix: Izzy should’ve told him he sees he doesn’t want to pirate anymore, he’s glad he’s found love with Stede because Izzy isn’t going to make it, go run your fokkin’ inn, you twat (affectionate).

Issue 3. Izzy died of bad planning and bad luck. Why didn’t they take the gun from Ricky? Between Spanish Jackie, Izzy, and Jim, SOMEONE would’ve thought about it. If not those three, someone else would’ve, but come one. One if not all of those three would’ve known better. Yeah, Izzy happened to be standing in front of Ed and he got shot instead of him, but you’ve gotta be REALLY looking for that to even be aware it’s what happened. It wasn’t even on purpose unless Ed strategically placed himself behind Izzy (which I doubt was the intent). Izzy didn’t position himself protectively/take the bullet for anyone on purpose. It was just happenstance and you only notice it if you’re rewatching and hyper-analyzing everything (which a lot of us, me included, in the fandom do, but casual watchers don’t. It’s totally unclear as far as the surface level narrative goes) Any sort of “heroism” is not acknowledged, it’s barely even noticeable in the shot. If that was the intent, it HAD to be clearer and acknowledged by the characters so the audience would realize the stakes and repercussions of clear choices. As it is, I don’t think it was intentional. If Izzy HAS to die, it should truly have rounded out his arc in a way that CLEARLY changed the course of the scene, leaving him to protect people he’d put in danger at the end of s1. It didn’t. It just read as terrible planning to the point of it being out of character for more than one character, and bad luck.

The fix: Izzy should’ve saved someone. I personally don’t like the idea of it being Ed. I’s have rather he save Stede (Not really, but it’s better than Ed I guess) But really Izzy should’ve died saving the crew. The crew makes the most sense to me, narratively speaking. He’s their figurehead, he’s protected the Kraken Crew for months and they should’ve been fiercely loyal to him, he blames himself for what Ed did to them (more on this later) so it makes sense for him to fiercely protect his crew. His family. Who should’ve been devastated that it happened because Izzy is the one character of the main three who’s managed to earn that status this season.

Issue 4. The death did not serve to move the plot along. There are literally zero things that would’ve been different for the end of the episode, save Izzy being alive and on the Revenge in his rightful role he earned with his crew as the captain, if he’d have lived. Ed and Stede aren’t partnering with Zheng to go after the guy who killed him in the next season. Nope. They got the offer but nah. They’re running an Inn. Which Izzy would’ve supported based on literally everything we’ve seen from him in episodes 5-8. The crew who Izzy protected fiercely and who viewed him as their leader? Not one tear during his death or the the funeral. Happily sailing away to do presumably more Muppet Treasure Island hijinks. No character development happened. No plot development happened. The season could’ve ended literally the EXACT SAME WAY with Izzy alive aboard the Revenge!!! No stakes were changed at all. No one was impacted enough for it to seem like it was even going to be a plot obstacle next season. It just happened, Izzy’s toxic situationship who maimed him multiple times over the course of months to the point of his leg needing to be amputated was sad for one (1) scene, then we moved on and did not seem sad at all at the funeral. What.

The fix: The plot should’ve been driven by the death. Ed and Stede (but especially Ed), and DEFINITELY the crew should’ve been sailing off plotting to avenge the death and defend piracy against Ricky and the British, especially with Zheng who lost her whole fleet. Ricky and the British are clearly (or so I hope, nothing’s clear here anymore tbh) the primary antagonist for the theoretical third season. No one should be running an whim-based inn for fun or sailing off happily into the sunset after the death of the most major character aside from Ed and Stede, who beyond proved himself a major part of something every character (his family) should’ve cared about this season. If he HAD to die, that death should have furthered the plot. But instead, it seems everyone shrugged it off with tears exclusively from Ed.

Issue 5. Izzy got shot in the left side. The side in which canonically NO ONE DOES FROM BEING INJURED ON IN THE OFMD UNIVERSE.

The fix: Yeah I know this is just too nit-picky but it was also just SO sloppy. Like just shoot him on the other side if he has to die, because this was a very memorable plot point more than once in s1. Like, come on y’all.

Disclaimer: Issues/fixes 1-5 would all need to happen together to truly fix it and make the death serve the narrative correctly. Issue/fix 6 is a totally separate route, which I personally hate, but at least the narrative would’ve made sense this way.

Issue 6. The idea that Izzy had to die so that Ed could be free of Blackbeard makes no sense at this point in the story. Ed already threw away his leathers and gave away his treasure to symbolically get rid of Blackbeard, and Izzy very sweetly encouraged him to follow the feeling that throwing out the leathers gave him. Izzy told Stede that he and Ed were good for each other. They balance each other out. Izzy is on good terms with both of them and their relationship, so Izzy “having to die” so Ed could flourish as Ed genuinely makes no sense and came totally out of left field.

The fix for 6: This one stands alone and is my absolute least favorite option, but if it HAD to happen without the 1-5 fixes, here’s how it could’ve made sense. If THIS is truly the way it was going to end, Izzy needed to be continuously antagonistic or avoidant to at least Ed and actually be shown holding Ed back from happiness until that last second. He wasn’t. He was so much better. Izzy clearly does blame himself (that’s for a separate post because I have lots of thoughts there) but to be fair they were both abusive in that relationship, for years it seems. Although I think by the beginning of s2, the power dynamic has clearly flipped and it was Ed who was doing most of it and Izzy was exhausted and knowingly “reaping what he’d sewed” (I don’t Blame Izzy for his abuse but I think this was his mindset) so the crew wouldn’t get the brunt of it.

If he seriously HAD to die because the writers just had to have it that way, those are the changes I think would’ve made the narrative work/make sense, served all the character arcs and dynamics correctly, and actually driven the plot as fictional deaths are supposed to, compelling things into a third season. Seriously, this season finale was a mess of baffling choices the most series finale season finale I’ve ever seen.

Anyway. There’s my unsolicited two-cents. Now back to hoping Izzy’s in the gravy basket waiting to be sea witch necromancied back by seagull Buttons in season 3. I love this show and I hate hating what I hate hating about it because it’s my absolute favorite and I can’t stand it because it’s fantastic and the worst thing I’ve ever seen. (Also, Izzy should’ve lived).

[syllvane]

familiar hearts- tolya yul-bataar x reader

a/n: half based on a request but kind of took on a life of its own! gender neutral, Nikolai’s sibling. can be read as a sequel to soldier, poet, king, but can also be read separately. marche is the reader’s privateer name.

They kill the Healer first, hands bound and throat slit, ruby red blood staining their garments and nothing they could do except scream, alert the rest of the ship that there are intruders.

They have Grisha of their own as well, ones who engage the Grisha on the Volkvolny.

And the Grisha on the Volkvolny are outnumbered, but they are excellent.

Tolya and Tamar fight in complete synchronization, perfectly able to predict the others move before they’ve even done it. 

Tidemakers work in tandem to try and keep the sea calm while knocking off the otkazat’sya pirates, trying their best to even the numbers, Durasts bend the metal of swords and rifles, making them all but unusable.

Even you and Nikolai are in the fray, as much as he would prefer that you stay safe, you would hear none of it.

The crew of this ship are more your family than the royals preening in Os Alta and besides, you’ve never been one to shy away from a fight. 

Nikolai is swordfighting the captain of the other ship, though he seems to be verbally jousting as well with them, judging by the remarks that you’re able to overhear.

You make your way through several of the otkazat’sya pirates- they are good, but they are not you. 

You are a flash of blade and blood and for a moment, you see that Tolya hesitates while he’s admiring you, doesn’t block when he should and a blade plunges into his flesh.

You don’t allow yourself to scream, to distract anyone else as you dashed towards him, blades tearing at your skin, and put yourself in front of him, protecting Tamar’s blindside and her brother.

You’re easier prey for the Heartrender that Tolya was fending off, and you can feel your heart begin to slow as you swing wildly.

You don’t allow yourself to fall, even when you should be unconcious on the ground next to Tolya, and when you think you’re about to, a gunshot rings out and the Heartrender falls dead. 

Your brother, livid, holds the smoking gun and with the rest of the pirates dead, rushes over to you.

“Are you okay? Do you realize how stupid-” His sentence stops, his gaze going behind you, to Tamar kneeling over her dying brother. “Oh.”

You collapsed to your knees as well, looking at the man that you would’ve died to save.

You put your hands on his arm gently, shaking your head.

“You can’t go. You can’t die.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You looked… magnificent out there.”

“No, Tolya, you don’t get to die. Not yet.” You said, more assurance in your voice and Tamar looked at you miserably.

“There is nothing you can do.”

Nikolai grabbed your shoulder, as if to pull you away and you shook him off.

You closed your eyes. 

You can’t die. Don’t leave me.

You don’t see it, of course, but tissue begins to stitch itself back together- slowly, a Healer with no experience at all was trying to mend something that they loved.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

“Marche.” Nikolai said hesitantly. You ignored him.

It’s gruesome to watch, how flesh moves like thread to reconnect itself.

“Marche.” Tolya said, his voice no longer weak and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him sitting, leaned against his sister and everyone on the ship looking at you.

And before you can notice your handiwork, your head hits the deck of the ship and the unconsciousness that you’ve been staving off greets you like an old friend.

When you wake after what feels like the longest sleep in your life, it is in Nikolai’s chambers and with Tamar sitting next to you.

Before you can say anything, she turns to look at you, feeling your heart speed up.

“You saved my brothers life,” She said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’ll spend my life repaying that debt.”

You shook your head.

“Whatever I did, I did freely. Out of love.”

Tamar smiled and sniffed.

“He’s been in here reciting poetry to you, whenever he isn’t above deck.” She said, a smile appearing on your lips before she looked up at the ceiling. “He’s been listening for any differences in your heartbeat, so I’m sure Nikolai and him will be down here any moment.”

As if on cue, there was frantic knock on the door and without wait for an answer, the door opened, revealing Tolya and Nikolai.

“Be gentle.” Tamar said sternly. Tolya paid no attention, rushing forward and embracing you tightly, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled quietly, his words a prayer against your skin.

“It was nothing.”

Nikolai cleared his throat and Tolya smiled, pulling away from you and granting Nikolai access to you.

He smiled at you, striding across the room to hug you, more gently than Tolya.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the Volkvolny ran me over while I was asleep.” You half-joked before realizing your mistake as Nikolai began to fret over you. “Nik I’m fine, I feel fine.”

“You scared me. You scared all of us. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know either. Is everyone else okay? How many losses did we suffer?”

“You need to worry about getting better before you start worrying about others. I say this as your brother and as your Captain.”

“Tolya?”

“We’re in rough shape, but most of the crew survived.”

“Since when have you started taking orders from her?” Nikolai frowned. “Don’t answer that. Promise me that you’ll get your rest before you start healing others.”

“I don’t even know how I did it the first time.”

“Exactly, all the more reason to rest and wait until we can make a stop in Novyi Zem where you can learn from teachers.”

“Nik, I can-”

“No. I love you, and I know you just want to help our crew. I want to help them as well, but I can’t lose you. You have no idea what it was like, watching you fall unconcious.” 

You didn’t say anything before nodding silently.

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back.

“Well, I better go make sure that the crew hasn’t mutinied.” He said lightly and you rolled your eyes.

He smiled, giving you a nod before exiting. Tolya made to move but Tamar reached her hand out, shaking her head.

“I’ll go. You two can chat.” She smiled and Tolya gave her a grateful look, moving to take her seat as she exited, the door clicking shut.

“How did you heal me?” He asked slowly and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I… I don’t know, I just kept thinking over and over again that I couldn’t lose you. So, sheer willpower, I guess.” 

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Loving you has always been easy.”

[shirohige-pirates]

Magic Trick

Marco x afab!reader

Word count: 3,902

CW: fingering, oral (receiving), rough sex

Summary: You've had a crush on Marco for a while, and you decide to take the plunge and shoot your shot.

Blame @zoros-sheath for inspiring this one-shot. And honestly, you can probably blame @cyborg-franky @standfucker for even causing me to look over at this blorbo for long enough that I got thoroughly caught up in him.

18+ only

You tested the size and balance of Ace’s hat medallion a few times, working it through your fingers and slowly working up the speed needed to make it disappear. Your hands were barely big enough to manage it but after a few minutes you were twirling it around easily.

“If I’m working with something like this, I’d make sure I was wearing something baggy.” You admit as Ace eats next to you.

“You made it disappear a few times. I admit, you’re good at it.” Ace says, shoveling another large bite of food into his mouth. “You should do a trick like that with Marco.”

You grunt, but don’t say anything else.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Paradise doesn’t exist, that’s the problem.” You sigh, tossing his hat medallion at him. Ace nearly drops his plate to catch it, but manages to get a hold of both.

“There’s no way he dislikes you.” His voice is full of disbelief. “I’ve caught him staring.”

“Maybe I’m being too subtle.” You admit, laying your head on the railing of the ship, looking over at Ace. “Or maybe his non-answer is the answer.”

“You’re being awfully soft with this.” Ace jabs you in the side with the handle end of his fork. “You’re usually only subtle when you’re scouting. Why’re you playing this so cautious?”

“Because I -!” You straighten up but stop talking, realizing you were starting to shout. “I don’t want him to turn me down.” You admit quietly. “I really like him.”

Ace’s eyes go wide for a moment, and then he beams. “Do one of your magic tricks then.” He says.

“Pulling a quarter from his ear isn’t going to tell him anything.” You grumble.

Ace shrugs. “Can you pull a condom or some underwear out from behind his ear?”

You smack your forehead and groan. “Yes, Ace, that’s certainly not subtle.” You sigh.

“You’re just going to chicken out then, huh?”

“What?” You bite the word off in a snarl, eyes sharp.

The devilish grin on Ace’s face is enough to make you realize you waltzed right into the trap. “If you’re not, then do it. The celebration’s tomorrow, right? Pull something out from behind Marco’s ear tomorrow that doesn’t leave him any wiggle room.”

“… Live or die in front of the entire crew, huh?”

Ace shrugs. “If you get rejected, there’ll be plenty of booze around to soothe you.”

You cross your arms, pouting. “There’s not enough booze on this ship to soothe me, Tinderbox.”

“I’mma let dat go,” Ace grumbles through a half-full mouth of food. “You’re taking this pretty hard.”

You put your hands over your face and muffle an aggravated scream. “What kind of moron falls for their division commander?!” You growl. “If I say anything and he rejects me I won’t be able to avoid him.”

“If you don’t say anything you’re going to explode in the middle of a battle or something.” Ace teases.

“Worse,” you huff. “Teach caught me grumbling and offered to soothe my aching heart.”

Ace laughs. “Poor Teach. He’s a hundred years too late.”

You snort, leaning against the rail, staring out over the sea. “Better to regret the choices we make, than the moments we let go by, right?”

You sigh, letting the day slip into night. You don’t rest well that night, but you get some sleep. Nerves, of all things, keep you awake. You hadn’t been nervous for years – a side effect of being a pirate. You’d been doing reconnaissance and theft for the Whitebeard pirates for the last six years.

Repayment really, for having robbed half the crew blind when they were on your island. Once you realized who you had stolen from you were pretty sure that you were just going to be executed. The Whitebeard pirates were as close as the Grandline got to heroes for some people, but they were still pirates.

In the end, you were offered a spot on the crew, under the First Commander no less.

You’d only gotten better at your craft, you’d be taught about haki, and you’d become a formidable member of a well-respected crew. It was hard to say when Marco started to catch your eye. When he went from pirate to commander to brother to crush.

In the end, the details didn’t matter. You were where you were, and you felt what you felt, and it was going to be easier to move on if you were rejected than it would be to just sit on the feelings and dwell.

Once the festivities started the next day, you let yourself enjoy them. Food, song, dance – it was a celebration for every crew mate with a birthday that month, one big feast was easier than several smaller ones, and it was always good fun.

The food and chatter gives way to music and dancing, and pockets of crew members enjoying booze as the sun sinks lower and lower. By the light of the dying sun you wander over to where Marco is, sitting with Thatch who is enjoying a late dessert, and Izou, who’s enjoying a bottle of wine. It’s impressive how Izou can make drinking straight from the bottle look so graceful.

You had agreed with Ace that subtle was going to need to be thrown out the proverbial window and so you make a little bit of a show of things as you draw nearer, sighing heavily and looking completely disparaged.

“What has you so down?” Marco asks, setting his mug of ale down and leaning back.

“I’m having a hard time finding something.” You admit, giving him a cheeky grin. You can tell he knows you’re baiting him into something, but you’re not sure he’s aware exactly what it will be.

You may be a little notorious for doing random magic tricks for the crew, but you’re usually light on the theatrics.

“Oh? Something important?” He muses, giving you an easy smile. You struggle not to just bite your lip and tackle him, that easy smile is killing you.

“In a way.” You admit, stepping closer. Even with Marco seated and you standing, there wasn’t much height difference. He wasn’t nearly the tallest on the crew, but at six foot nine inches he wasn’t anywhere near the shortest either. “Want to help me out?”

Marco’s grin doesn’t change. “Of course, yoi.” He says, leaning forward, and staying seated as you draw even closer. “Where do you think-?”

He stops as you reach past his face, fingers brushing against his ear.

“I’ve looked just about everywhere.” You say, shifting your gaze down to catch the bright blue eyes looking back up at you. Marco looked amused more than anything else, but it was hard to get emotions other than calm and neutral to break across his face.

You pull a black lacy thong from behind Marco’s ear, eyes on his, sure grin on your face. “Oh, there they are.” You say, running your tongue over your lip a little. “Seems they prefer to be wrapped around your neck than around my thighs.”

Marco’s eyes are as wide as you’ve ever seen them, blush creeping into his fair face. You hear a clatter, looking over for a second to see that Thatch has dropped his plate, and is completely agog. The usually suave cook is beet red and looks to have been caught completely off guard.

You lean closer when Marco doesn’t say or do anything more, and whisper into his ear. “Perhaps you’d rather my thighs around your neck instead.” You offer, suppressing the urge to leave a soft kiss against his neck before leaning back.

Marco swallows thickly, pulling a few berries from his pocket and handing them over to Izou without a word. Izou smiles politely at you, tucking the bills away and returning to his drink.

When you look back at Marco he’s composed himself, enough that he at least looks relaxed, even if his ears are still a little red. The easy smile he gives you makes your heart thump in your chest, and after a second he stands up.

“It seems me and my neck have a prior engagement.” Marco says evenly, taking a step or two away before stopping to be sure you were following after him. “Izou, you’ll see to Thatch, aye?”

“Ace and I will at least make sure he doesn’t sleep in that position.” Izou answers with a chuckle.

Marco continues on, away from the celebration, and you follow after. A small knot twists in your stomach – Marco is a nice guy, genuinely nice, especially toward the crew. He could very easily just be leading you away to help you save face in front of everyone else. You hold onto that feeling as you two head toward his room, padding yourself against possible rejection just in case.

He puts his hand on the door handle, pausing for a second. He starts to say something, thinks better of it, and opens the door, stepping back and giving you space to enter.

It’s nearly impossible to read Marco at the best of times, but your own senses are a little frayed right now, and you have no idea what’s going through his mind. You wanted clarification before you walked into his room, because if he was just going to let you down easy you’d prefer to just go to your own room now.

But you didn’t want to ask. You didn’t want to form the risk into words and bring it into the air. You manage a sure smile and start toward the door when Marco finally speaks.

“I can’t promise,” he says thickly, his gaze heavy against you even if you aren’t looking back at him. “That I’ll be any sort of gentleman, once you go in there, yoi.”

A sweet shiver slips down your spine and a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “As long as you don’t mean to use me and then lose me.” You say lightheartedly, stepping into the room.

Marco steps in behind you, smile on his face. “I gave you a few months to come to your senses,” he teases, an easy smile in his voice in the dark room as he closes the door, plunging you both into near total darkness.

“And here you are.”

You turn toward him, words dying on your lips as you see the blue flames flickering off of him. They’re small and brief, illuminating the room like sparks. The dance of light over his face gave the illusion of a fire within his eyes, and the heated look he was giving you had more weight and passion than you had been expecting.

He was always so relaxed and laid back. Seemingly completely unbothered by the world around him. If not for his interactions with the crew you almost would’ve thought him detached. But the man who stood before you now was literally burning in his desire.

“Last chance.” He says, but the tone in his voice is sharp. He doesn’t want you to leave. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that that desire isn’t just about right now. The warning isn’t just about tonight.

You can almost see the talons closing in around your entire body.

“I didn’t flirt for the last six months to chicken out now.” You mean to sound sure, but there’s a shiver in your voice. Uncertainty, maybe. Concern that you’ve stepped into something deeper than you meant to.

You never feared Marco, and even now that wasn’t the right word for whatever was beating against your bones.

He reaches out, fingers brushing gently against your face. You nuzzle into the action, and you can hear a soft sigh escape him. His fingers shift enough to tilt your chin up as he leans down toward you. His eyes find yours, the sparks are fewer, but there’s enough light to catch one another’s gaze.

The first kiss is almost chaste. The soft brush of his lips against yours. A fleeting warmth that passes between you, and the nearly inaudible intake of breath as that first connection was finally made.

The simple act was like the snapping of a seal. Marco pulled off his shirt as you pulled his face closer, kissing him deeper as he tossed the useless piece of clothing aside. The kiss broke for a second, long enough for you to pull your shirt off and toss it away.

His hand was behind your head, warm and taut and the next kiss stole your breath just from the intensity behind it. You opened your mouth and let him in before he could even ask for permission, and he wasted no time in accepting. Out on the deck you may have had some manner of control, but in the privacy of this room Marco was devouring you.

You shifted easily through the room, and the clatter of objects falling to the floor was the only warning you had before large hands grabbed you and lifted you up onto his desk. Something in the back of your mind marveled that the organized and neat doctor would cause such a mess.

Your fingers trail over him, following his arms, tracing lines along the curve of muscle and tender skin. By the nature of his devil fruit, he bore no scars, no jagged lines for your fingers to remember. You had your share of scars. Marks from learning, marks from work, small lines and stories and near misses etched into the weave of your skin.

Marco’s fingers seemed to pay them no mind, strong hands pulling your shoes away and lifting your hips as he pulled your pants down past the curve of your ass. You pulled the sash around his waist free, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling yourself closer to him.

A soft grunt from him disappears into your continued kisses and his hand nearly slams into the desk as he leans you back enough to break the kiss. He swears softly as you shift your hips against his.

“(Y/N).” His voice shivers and you can feel his body tremble.

“No regrets,” You breathe the words, looking up at him, pulling him back down toward you. “The only issue right now is that you still have your pants on, Marco.”

He grins. “You still have your small clothes on.” He retorts, leaning you back further until you’re laying on the desk and he’s over you, leaning down and kissing you again.

His kisses shift away from your lips, trailing along your jaw and down to your neck. The shivering gasp that escapes you spurs him on, hands grabbing you and roughly pulling the last of your clothes away.

Passion burns in the kisses that press into your skin, sinking into your muscles and sending jolts through your body. Blue flames licked along his back, trailing behind the lines your fingernails were already digging into him. His hands held you still as your body squirmed from the pleasure of his kisses, impossibly smooth and firm and hot against you.

Your fingers move from his back to his shoulders as his kisses burn into your stomach. Pleased moans rattle in your chest as your hips shift, Marco’s lips kissing against your sides as his hands grip your knees and spread your legs wide. Your back arches at the rush of cool air between your thighs, but you barely have a second before his tongue is deep inside you even faster than earlier.

Your hands are on his head as his hands are holding your legs wide, your body jolting from the pleasure even as he holds you in place. You suck in a breath and bite your lip to keep the loud cry from escaping you. You can see a flicker of flames cross Marco’s shoulders and you’re aware he’s irritated, but he’s not stopping.

His tongue and lips suck and swirl against your clit like he was born to please you, and with a little shift you a finger slip into your wet pussy.

“Y-y-you’re guh-gonne mm-maaah, shit! - make me sc-scream, Marc-Marco!” You gasp, wiggling as a second finger is pushed inside.

You look down and see two blue eyes, unnaturally bright in the dark room, looking back at you from between your thighs.

“Indeed,” he says it almost flatly and you realize where his irritation was coming from.

You whimper a little. “The whole ship’ll hear…” You murmur defeatedly.

He hums, eyes still burning into you, tongue slipping up the inside of your thigh. “I warned you, yoi.”

Oh shit.

“You did,” you admit, swallowing thickly, a little concerned about your current position suddenly. “I’m… at your mercy then.”

You can see the grin that slips along his lips, an expression that cuts through your bones and sends a shiver through your body. The First Commander was renowned for his even manner and relaxed countenance, but you had a feeling you were about to see everything that was tucked behind that.

Unlike the flames of his Zoan, this particular flame was for your eyes only.

“Don’t hold out on me, yoi.” He says softly, three long fingers pushing into your tight, wet, needy hole. You suck in a deep breath, grabbing onto the edges of the desk as his fingers curl, causing your body to make a similar motion as pleasure rushes through you.

His breath is hot against your clit as he pulls one of your hands free from the desk, and places it against his head. “Hold onto me, not the desk.” He commands, and your other hand releases its grip on the desk to hold onto him as his tongue goes back to work.

Too much, it’s too much. It’s such a rush of pleasure, you didn’t even know your body could be so sensitive. His free hand kept sending little lines of electricity through you as his fingers moved over your hips and up along your stomach. You could only apologize inside your head as your hands tightened in his hair, your body clenching like iron at the first flood of pleasure.

Little more than a broken swear managed to get past your lips as the orgasm ripped through you. He showed you a small mercy, and didn’t force you to ride out the entire thing, but as he moved you wondered if it was truly mercy that had been given. You were coming down slowly, every twitch and tingle danced along your skin and sunk into your bones.

You could hear the fabric of his pants as you were sure they had been discarded, but in the dark of the room, in the hazy blur that was your muddled vision, you couldn’t see.

But for every sense that was addled right now, your sense of touch was all the more keen.

Hot. It was hot. Marco didn’t run hot normally, not like how Ace did with his fiery body, but Marco was always shades of blue. Calm, cool, collected. But the rigid tip of his cock, pressed against your soaked and trembling lips was hot. Hot, and impossibly stiff. More akin to metal than flesh as far as you were concerned.

“Marco…” You reach for him and he takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers softly before he grips your wrists and pins them against the desk. “More, please.” You nearly whisper the words, moaning softly at the lips that tease your neck while his cock shifts teasingly against you.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” He says, and you focus as best you can on his eyes. “Keep looking at me.” His voice is demanding, low, and husky as he begins to push into you. “I want to see your face as you give yourself to me, yoi.”

The stretch is delightful. It’s been so long since you’ve enjoyed the pleasure of another, but even so, the feel of it as he pushes in is satisfying. It’s your body that gives way, not his, but he fits so well. Your fingers flex, and he adjusts his hands, fingers tangling into yours, holding your hands to the desk instead of your wrists.

“Marco.” His name is gospel on your lips, a soft prayer to a fiery blue demon in the skin of an angel. “Kiss me.”

“As you command.” He almost growls the words, as though he’s struggling to hold something back, and leans down. His lips are against yours, the pressure and pleasure barely registering as his hips met flush with yours.

His hips shift as his tongue pushes into your mouth. He devours the sweet moans that bubble up from your chest, even as the snap of his hips fills the room with the wet sounds of your pleasure and need. You’re caged completely, an odd reversal if you had enough mind to think on it.

“M-more!” You gasp as the kiss breaks.

“Aye.” Marco agrees, letting go of your hands to hook your knees over his arms, stretching your legs back and letting him push a little deeper.

Fire trails along his back as your fingers claw into his perfect skin again. Your gasps and moans come out in thrusts of air as he slams into you, the desk creaking and shifting under the rough pace.

He shifts enough to tease you, his pace slowing only a little. His thumb rolls against your clit, and his lips tease your nipple as his other hand tries to steady you both against the creaking desk. The lessened pace gives you more breath, and the added sensations pull moans and cries of pleasure from you. You don’t want to let go of him, so you can’t cover your mouth. He’s moved away from you so you can’t kiss him to stifle your sounds.

“Sing for me,” he demands, breath hot against your skin before he nips at your nipple sending a zing of pain through with the pleasure.

“Ca-can’t – can’t – Marco! Ma-Marco I’m gonna—hnnngh!” You tense and coil as the pleasure builds and when you move a hand away to cover your mouth he grabs it and pins it down on the desk, picking his pace up again.

“Don’t deny me again.” He warns, teeth nipping at your neck. “Let it out. I want to hear, all the sweet sounds that you can make for me.”

Whimpered tatters of need fall from your lips as the pleasure builds. The more it builds the less you can hold back, and any time you try to hold back Marco pushes more fire and desire into you.

The pleasure crests, and you scream – his name, though the sound breaks as it passes your tensed throat, and then is devoured as his lips cover yours. You moan into the kiss as he continues to thrust into you, his rhythm stuttering only a little as he fills you up, the sensation and the soft grunt from him almost pulling you into a third orgasm, your body tensing and twitching a little.

He gives you both a second to catch your breath, though he’s barely breathing heavy. He leans back down, leaving soft kisses against your lips as he pulls out of you.

“The bed,” he says softly, kissing your cheek. “Should be softer and quieter.” You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh already stiff again. “But you won’t be, will you?”

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Defend Your Blurbo Submission (this is LONG—1105 words, sorry!)

Dorsal Fin Appreciation or Lack Thereof

Hear me out y’all, but Arlong the Saw seriously needs more love in this fandom than he is getting. This is not a plea to the folks who don’t go feral at all for anyone in One Piece, this plea is for my fellow One Piece fans. Why so angry?

Out of all the villains in the entire franchise, and I am 100% ignoring the Live Action by Netflix—this is about OG canon Arlong from the anime (haven’t really read the manga yet), he seems to be the most hated. I have seen more genuine love and affection for Kleenex Boi Trebol than I have for He Carries Two Fish Sticks Everywhere He Goes Arlong.

Yes, he did conquer an island in the East Blue. Yes, he did extort money from the citizens monthly (effectively making him a loan shark). Yes, he took a young Nami and had her work for him, originally under horrible circumstances. And yes, he did kill Nami’s adoptive mother Bell-Mere. I feel like y’all shut him out of fandom love simply for killing Bell-Mere.

Out of all the villains that regularly see love, he killed a whopping one person. One.

He let Bell-Mere give parting words to her girls, he let her say goodbye, and he actually killed her rather quickly. He didn’t torture her, didn’t rape her, didn’t drag anything out. He stated that if you can’t pay, you die. He didn’t lie. She couldn’t pay so she died. Arlong is very cut-and-dry, you know exactly what you’re going to get with him.

Compare him to someone like Eustass Kid, who has killed way more innocent people than Arlong ever will. Kid got his bounty based on his egregiously high civilian casualty count. His big bad bounty came from innocent blood being spilled, that’s what makes Kid so damn dangerous to the government. Because let’s face it, he fails as much as Buggy does in the whole pirating thing. He took on Kaido at least once and lost and he took on Shanks twice and lost. He doesn’t win his pirate battles; he just wins at killing people who can’t defend themselves against him. And y’all eat him up like candy.

Arlong kills one backstory character and he’s the most hated man in One Piece. He’s better looking than Hody Jones and many other characters, he’s more humane than even he wants to admit, and he had great character development too.

He started off treating Nami like a slave or a pet and in ten years’ time grew to consider her a valued officer and crew mate. He wasn’t just fighting to keep his cartographer; he was fighting to keep the only female member of his pirate family from leaving.

Doflamingo killed his own father when he was a child, murdered his own brother, murdered countless other people, and overthrew a fucking country. And y’all drool over him like a stuck pig at a luau.

Arlong was a pretty solid pirate all things considered. He plundered consistently over the course of 10 years and built himself an empire on land rather than a fleet. He had a cunning plan. He had minions within the Marines (just as Doffy did with Vergo, but Arlong’s were actual marines), so he infiltrated through human frailty. He only committed one act of murder.

He had all the maps, a creature from the Grand Line and let’s not forget he and all but one of his crew were also from the Grand Line. He kicked ass. He even had convictions; he wasn’t all about himself. He cared about his own species, every single member of his crew, and he never turned on any of them. He did exploit a loophole with Nami but regarding his own people, he treasured all of them.

When they did something wrong or disagreed with him, he never harmed them. He didn’t treat them like shit. Their lives were precious to him. Hody Jones not only abused other fishmen/fishwomen, but he also flat out killed them. He murdered his own monarch and any fishman who didn’t agree with him 100% was killed. Arlong would fall on his own sword before even letting so much as the idea of killing any of his own kind cross his mind.

When Arlong did have disagreements with other fishmen, he just separated from them and went his own way. He never killed his own kind, wouldn’t dream of it. Arlong has lines in the sand that he will not cross, he has boundaries and respects them. Arlong actually has morals that he adheres to. Hody Jones is amoral, and Doffy isn’t far behind. Hell, Arlong has more solidified convictions and morals than Sakazuki, who like Hody, kills his own subordinates if they disagree with him.

Arlong really isn’t that villainous of a villain. In my opinion, he is a deeply traumatized person who never dealt with his trauma. He bottled it all up and is slowly consuming him. He’s damaging himself by doing that and he is able to be mislead by thinking he’s doing right and following solid ideals. He truly believes his species is superior and he truly believes that they need to rise up and take their freedom.

Now, he isn’t wrong. Fishmen are treated horribly and they do need to take their freedom, but treating humans the exact way they have been treated is also wrong. Arlong is so deeply wounded that he hasn’t figured that part out yet. He was starting to with Nami evolving in his crew. He even admitted to her intelligence and skill a few times, he was slowly starting to mend his ways when she left.

Arlong is deeply traumatized, misguided, but redeemable. And yet, no one gives him a chance. How can you all heap the love on civilian slaughterer Kid, pirate failure Buggy, snotastic Trebol, familicide Doffy, royal traitor Crocodile, domestic terrorist Sakazuki (because like me, some of y’all out there love him too), fish gutter Hody Jones, delulu “deity” Enel, lard ass Blackbeard, or giant psycho Kaido with the scrawny legs that shouldn’t be able to support him but y’all can’t find three nice things to say about Arlong the Saw and his glorious dorsal fin?

I mean come on! Have you seen that sexy dorsal fin of his? He’s tall, has luscious locks, teeth that regenerate, two fresh fish sticks in his pants, a cool ass sword, decent fashion sense, and he can breathe underwater which is just so cool.

Why must you hate him so? He’s not that bad all things considered.

Defend Your Blurbo #7

Please remember this post is about curiosity and genuine fandom discourse. Be kind with your answers because this is not a debate essay, this is a discussion between fans.

Well, in case anyone doesn't know who Arlong is, he's an early One Piece villain.

Now, this anon took a much different approach to the series than the others, so have fun with this and One Piece fandom. Defend your Blorbo

[descendantsramblings]

I absoloutely love your Storys and i wanted to request one as well :3

Morgie x Male!Reader

Male Reader is Part of the Vk's or his studie Partner in an Assignment (your choice) and the Reader is in Love with Morgie, Morgie on the other hand is into Uliana and always talks about her which is breaking Reader's Heart

So- Hurt comfort/no comfort with a Happy or Sad ending, whatever you like more

I won't lie to you, something about this fic turned extremely dialogue heavy and this feels a touch behind the bar to my other works, I'm sorry about that.

Also somehow his friendship with Hook had me writing this in the mindset of “boooooo he sucks, kiss his friend” so feel free to read it as Hook having a thing for the reader. Adds to the one sided chaos

One Sided

Morgie le Fay x VK! Reader

Pronouns used: he/him/his

Summary: What else was he meant to do but just take the boy’s words like they’re rolling punches?

Warnings: no happy ending we die like men, Morgie gets called stupid out of frustration a lot

Word Count: 1.9K

     “James, I am going to implode,” the boy flops onto the pirate’s bed with a dramatic huff, body just barely missing the legs that rest under his maroon blanket. Hook had grown used to this, shifting to making room beside him, in case his friend was  willing to take him up on it. Not that (Y/n) ever did, too scared that Morgie would walk in. If he saw how close the boy got to his roommate, the sorcerer would never see him as an option. Not that the serpent did see him as anything.  “Do you know what he just did?” He flips over onto his stomach, chin cradled in his hands as he whines at Hook.  The pirate lets out an sharp exhale that vaguely resembles a laugh, “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” “He asked me to go with him to that new coffee place in town, and I mean, I knew it wasn’t a date. But he asked me to go so he could tell me more about Uliana. I mean, how blind does a man have to be? Asking a boy who’s falling at your feet to get coffee just to talk about some girl who doesn’t even want you.” He looks up at the boy, and where you’d expect to see sadness, all that sits on his features is annoyance. Hook laughs, patting the spot he made on the bed for the other boy. “Morgie le Fay is a boy at best, not a man.” It earns him a laugh from (Y/n) who sits up, turning to him but not quite filling the spot with his name on it. Hook does his best to ignore it, letting his eyes stay focused on his friend instead. With a shake of his head, he smiles over at the pirate, “He could be. He’s just, not.” 

      A hum comes through his closed, pouty lips. “If you say so. And since you came to me, I’m assuming that means he,” James drags the one syllable word out, waiting for the boy to finish the sentence for him. “Left me early because Uliana showed up. She needed someone to carry her bags for her while she’s shopping for Castlecoming. He’s so stupid, James. That girl is never going to look at him as anything more than someone to use. How does he not see that?” There’s a mocking air to the first sentence, eyes rolling with a wave of his hand. Mocking the sea witch in a way that would surely get him in trouble were she to see. Lucky for them, they would be alone for hours. “He’s a boy, (Y/n), he’s stupid.” It makes them both laugh, James reaching over to push his knees slightly. “You’re a boy, James.” “Yeah, so are you,” Hook waves a hand at him, a smile plastered on his lips. “I personally am a man,” (Y/n) laughs, putting a hand over his heart as he speaks as if he’s offended. 

    It was a song and dance both boys had become far too accustomed to. Morgie would upset (Y/n) by talking about Uliana while they’re alone, or even by leaving him for the sea witch like he had today. Then he’d come running to Hook, if Morgie wasn’t coming back for a while, they’d stay on his bed. Otherwise it was (Y/n) and Hades’ dorm or the hideout. The boy would complain, his pirate companion would comfort him. Then when he was happy again, and they part ways, Hook would get a soft thanks, a swear that he was a good friend, and they would split. And now, as they reach the finale of their duet, (Y/n) puts a hand on top of Hook’s, an adoring smile stretched across his face. “You know, James. I really wouldn’t know what to do without you. You’re the best friend a boy could have.” He rolls his eyes, a familiar and playful smirk on his face, “And you are a wonderful stroke to my ego, Lad, really.” “Yeah, yeah,” the boy laughs, standing up from Hook’s bed, “Thank you, idiot.” “Anytime.” 

                                     ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

    The next time that (Y/n) sees Morgie, it’s in “History of Piracy”, his head laying gently on the sorcerer’s shoulder as the teacher drones on. Something about a research project where they got to pick their own partners. Not that the villain cared to listen. Morgie would, he’d never admit it but, he always did. The kid was smarter than he let on, something about it was oddly admirable. And it was too hard to listen anyway, no way he could care about something as minor as pirates when he could feel Morgie’s body heat through the silk shirt pressed to his cheek. His head moving so slightly as the boy breathes that the human eye wouldn’t pick it up. It was so cozy, quiet, something out of (Y/n)’s daydreams. And for once, there was nothing about Uliana to interfere. Class was a genuinely Uliana free zone, the boy and the sea witch being blessed with wildly different schedules. It made going to class just a touch easier.

    As the man finishes talking, the whole room gets up, kids crossing left and right to get to their friends, picking out different partners. The shoulder he leans on shakes ever so slightly, earning Morgie a slight glance in his direction. “We’re going to be partners, right?” His eyes fly open, moving off of Morgie’s shoulder to stare at him. Mouth running dry as he lets his eyes flicker wildly over the other boy. “What?” “We’re going to be partners on this project, right?” Right, he should’ve known that. “Actually, I was thinking of asking Charming, got a huge crush on him, you know. This would give me a way in.” Morgie’s face falls, looking over to the prince. Charming is leaning against Ella’s desk, obviously partnered with her. He turns back to (Y/n), “Oh well, I think he actually has a partner. I could see if Ella could switch if you wanted? Not that I want to work with her, I’d rather work with you.”  He’d rather work with him.

    (Y/n) forcefully laughs, reaching out for the boy’s arm, “Morgie, I’m kidding. Of course I’m going to be your partner. You’re my other half.” A nervous smile stretches across his face, leaning onto his hand, “It’s not a funny joke. I thought you were actually going to leave me.” Lip finding its way between his teeth as he literally tries to bite back a smile. He was scared he would leave him? Maybe the boy meant more to Morgie than he thought. “Never,” it’s meant to be light hearted but (Y/n) can feel the way it tugs on him. It’s a promise, he knows in his heart that it’s a promise. And the idea of it is absolutely horrifying. 

    “So, what exactly is this project?” Morgie laughs, shaking his head as he pulls out his sloppy notes on the assignment. “We have to write a research essay on how being a pirate can lead to harm.” A teasing little smirk makes its way onto the boy’s face, an excited air filling the space between them as he bounces ever so slightly in his seat, “We could do it on James losing his hand.” The laughter that erupts out of Morgie is loud, light and joyful as it shakes his shoulders. Smile meeting his eyes, squinting them with their perky glow still barely visible. He looks amazing, (y/n)’s lip once again sliding into his teeth as he stares lovingly at his friend. “Hook would hate being used for a project,” Morgie shakes his head, absentmindedly brushing his scarf over his shoulder. “You must not know your roommate very well, le Fay. James would absolutely love being the center of attention. Don’t play with me.” “Well, if you’re so sure.” “I am. Let’s go to your dorm.” His hand wraps around Morgie’s wrist at the exact same time as the bell rings, dragging the boy up from his chair.

    There was no use in fighting against him, Morgie was well aware of that. So he allows his excitable villain friend to drag him up to his dorm, fingers wrapped tightly around his skinny wrist. Pulling him into his room and throwing the boy down onto his own bed. The bedsprings screeching as the sorcerer falls to it, his body bouncing with the mattress. The little display earns them a shocked noise from Hook, his eyes wide as they turn to him. “Whatever you two are up to, I am in here, please be aware of that.” It makes Morgie laugh but (Y/n)’s face heats up at the idea, glaring pointedly at the pirate. The look on his friend’s face makes Hook smirk, crossing his arms and leaning back against his headboard. “What could you possibly be up to then?” The boy laughs, perching on the mattress beside his friend. “We came to see you. We have to do a silly little project on pirates.” “Oh, do ask away then.” 

    It doesn’t take long for the trio to go off the rails, what was once James getting to brag about his times at sea quickly turning into the three just hanging out. (Y/n)’s head in Morgie’s lap and his legs in Hook’s. Fingers ghosting through his hair as the sorcerer who cradles him babbles. “I mean she just, I don’t know. She sees me, obviously she does because she drags me around with her but she doesn’t see who I can be, you know? And that’s so frustrating because all I do is try, I am constantly on her beck and call. It’s exhausting, she’s so beautiful and talented. Evil too, and I understand that love isn’t evil but everyone is just a little bit good, aren’t they?” He pauses, smiling down at his friend, “I mean you’re so full of love. Especially with the way you treat us, and Hook over here is a serial romantic. There has to be some sort of love to her. So why can’t she just point it at me? It’s so unfair, I just want someone to love me.” 

    Unfair? It’s unfair that Uliana can’t love him. He has someone who loves him, why is he so stupid that he can’t see that? The boy looks up to Hook, his dark eyes already trained on him. The two of them have a silent conversation, the pirate silently promising that he had his friend’s back. And as if that was all the push he needed, the boy stands up, cutting off Morgie’s bubbling rant that had been going on for at least the last ten minutes. “I need to,” he pauses, looking at both boys before heading to the door, “I need to not be here. We’ll finish that project later, yeah?” 

     And they don’t get a minute to respond before he’s storming out of the room. Two pairs of eyes staring at the empty space where the boy once was. “What,” Morgie looks up to the door, “Was that?” His question is met with a sigh, the pirate rising off his bed.”You really are stupid, you know that?” He huffs, staring over at the boy with his mouth agape, “Excuse me?” Hook rolls his eyes, rolling his jacket onto his arms and grabbing his room key. “You’re stupid. He’s been in love with you for the past year, mate.” And the pirate storms out too, leaving the sorcerer alone, gapping at the wooden door. He’s been what?

[goodlucktai]

a song to bring you home

one piece word count: 4k written for the its pirates server sake exchange ! my giftee was @portgas-d-aroace who wanted "anything asl" and gave me an excuse to write the most self indulgent fic of 2023

read on ao3

x

“Again?” Sabo whispers, trying to sound mad. Whether he sounds that way or not doesn’t actually matter, since he’s already lifting his blanket in silent invitation.

“Sorry, ‘Bo,” Luffy mumbles thickly. He wastes no time crawling onto Sabo’s thin mattress, and Sabo pulls the blanket back down around them both, tucking it tight to keep the chill away. 

Luffy attaches himself to Sabo’s side like a barnacle, tiny fists curled in his brother’s shirt as if he’s afraid something is going to swoop down and try to wrench them apart. Sabo huffs out a breath that fogs in the air and lets him. 

“Nightmare?” he asks after a moment. He keeps his voice quiet in case Ace is still asleep, even though his twin is the lightest sleeper on the planet. 

Luffy nods once, face buried against Sabo’s shoulder. He’s not trembling, but the way he’s holding himself completely still and silent is its own red flag. 

It’s easy to forget that Luffy is not actually as spoiled as he acts. He whines and cries and pouts like any other privileged little master, he’s bossy and clingy and demands to go where his brothers go even though they all know he won’t be able to keep up, and sometimes—oftentimes—it grates on Sabo’s very last nerve. 

But holding someone like Stelly up to someone like Luffy is like holding an orange up to the sun. There’s literally no comparison. 

If Ace were actually as annoyed by Luffy as he pretends to be, then he wouldn’t be the first one to roll his eyes and throw up his hands and stomp back to collect their youngest when he falls behind. If Sabo actually meant all the mean things he says when they have to waste precious daylight dealing with a stupid scrape on Luffy’s stupid knee, then he wouldn’t suggest the pilgrimage down to Makino’s bar because she has those colorful bandages that always make Luffy smile. 

Luffy is as much an orphan as Ace is—as Sabo pretends to be—and he was so desperate not to be alone that he was willing to die for their reluctant, backhanded friendship. He would run after them until his arms and legs gave out, and then at that point he would probably crawl, just so they don’t leave him behind. 

Stubborn, selfish, stupid Luffy. The unwanted little kid that Ace and Sabo have begun to shape all their days around. 

Something in Sabo’s chest hurts to know that Luffy is afraid. He tips his head and adjusts his arms so that the smaller boy is tucked more securely under his chin. Stars pinwheel slowly across the sky, winter constellations that Sabo will teach his brothers how to find once they manage to get their hands on a halfway decent telescope. There are clouds forming to the east, low and gray, that promise snow. 

“Sing,” Luffy mumbles petulantly. 

“You’re such a brat,” Sabo complains. But he doesn’t make Luffy go away, and it’s only another moment before he starts humming. 

Sabo doesn’t know a lot of music, having successfully dodged his piano tutor for the last two years straight, but there’s a song he overheard on the docks a few months ago that stuck. Some sailors were singing it while they worked. Sabo didn’t catch all the words, so he made up the rest.

He made the mistake of singing it within his little brother’s earshot only once, but once was enough. Now he may as well be a performing monkey, because for every birthday and campfire and boring afternoon and bad dream, Luffy requests the same thing. 

“Now you've got the chance to travel oceans,” Sabo half-says, half-sings, letting it settle somewhere between a story and a lullaby. “I hope the world’s as wide as you were hoping…” 

Luffy sighs, a slow, satisfied thing. The fear-frozen shape of him softens with every word. He’s asleep again within one verse. Sabo sings two more, just in case. 

—

Two weeks and five escape attempts after he nearly died at sea, Sabo is finally allowed out of the infirmary. It’s slow going, and the doctor isn’t thrilled with him, but stepping into the fresh air out on deck is worth the man’s grumbling and sidelong looks. 

The whole left side of Sabo’s body is pins and needles and every breath feels like it burns, like the fire that almost killed him is still ready to snatch him up if he’s not careful. 

But it’s worth it. It’s so worth it to see the open ocean, stretching out forever under a sky vivid orange and blue with dusk. There’s enough sunlight left in the early evening that it cascades across the surface of the water so brightly Sabo can’t look at it for very long. 

This is freedom. And it’s important, so important he’ll cling to it with tooth and nail. So important he would set out by himself in a barely-sea-worthy boat to claim it. He just doesn’t remember why . 

Sabo knows his name. He knows he left something horrible behind—he dreams of running desperately through a place that glittered and gleamed to hide the rot underneath, of begging cold, lofty faces for help that never comes. He knows that he should be happy to escape whatever left that impression on his brain. 

But there’s a pit in his chest. A gnawing emptiness where something important is supposed to live. Part of him is so desperate to go back to where he came from that he would swim there if he had to. 

With time, that feeling would fade. He would overlook it so often that it would become second nature to pretend it wasn’t there. Time and distance would soften the frantic edges, years stacking on top one after the other until that little voice wailing I want to go home! was too muffled for Sabo to hear. 

If it was important, he wouldn’t have forgotten in the first place, he would reason to himself. Right?

But today, Sabo wins the contest of wills with the doctor, and he steps out onto the deck, and there is someone by the bow humming a familiar song while they work, and the whole world stops. 

“Hey,” the doctor says, alarmed, and a bracing hand lands on his shoulder, and that’s about when Sabo realizes he’s crying. 

His damaged eye stings horribly, and he’s making a mess of the bandages on his face, and he can hardly get enough breath in his lungs to say, “Take me back where you found me. I have to go back.”

The concussion makes it difficult for him to form new memories right now—his brain was rattled pretty hard. So he thinks the faces that peer at him in confusion and concern are the same ones that have surrounded him since he woke up on this ship in the first place, but they all swim together. Names are impossible. He knows the doctor by the cross on his shirt, and he knows the broad, looming shape of the man who saved him, and he turns to those two in particular. 

“I know that song,” he babbles, hysterical. “I made up the lyrics so I could sing it to my brothers. What if Luffy has a nightmare while I’m gone? Ace doesn’t know the words. I have to go back. Take me back.”

They take him back. 

The air smells faintly of smoke and melted garbage and burned meat even as far out as the beach. It turns Sabo’s stomach. His brain is topsy-turvy and confused and he wobbles so badly that the doctor has a pinched, pissed-off look on his face that gets darker with every step Sabo takes. 

But his feet know where to go. They’ve walked this coastline a thousand times. The sand gives way to grass, and he has to use his hands to make it up to the top of the hill, but finally he spills out on his back where the earth beneath him and the sky above him are utterly familiar and takes deep gulping sobs of air. 

“I’m here,” he says nonsensically to the man who followed him. The man who stayed a step behind in case Sabo fell but otherwise let him fight his own way back to the place he needed to be. “I’m home.”

The man studies him without speaking, his tattooed face impossible to read. Sabo’s thoughts are all swimmy, but he hopes he remembers this guy. He hopes he can find him again someday. His vision greys a few times, and at some point the man isn’t there anymore, but there’s a strong wind blowing in from the sea—steady and unrelenting, just hard enough that the nearby tree boughs start to bend. 

Someone says, “My hat!” 

Someone else says, “You and your stupid fucking hat—hurry up, it flew this way!”

Sabo is humming to himself when they finally find him, and falls asleep somewhere in the middle of those voices shrieking his name. 

Now he’s home. 

—

“I can’t even look at him,” Ace grinds out, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That reckless little asshole.”

“Mm-hmm,” Sabo replies mildly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, carding one hand through his little brother’s hair. “I wonder who he takes after more.”

“Shut up, ‘Bo! You’re just as bad as him!”

“If you children can’t get along, I’ll separate you,” Luffy’s friend, the extremely unsettling Surgeon of Death, says in a tone that suggests that he has both the means to make good on his threat, and also the absence of any god-given good sense to try it. 

Sabo, ever the peacekeeper, smiles at Trafalgar without teeth. “We’ll be on our best behavior. Thank you again for being there for my brother.”

The supernova cuts a sharp glance at him, dark eyes unreadable. His gaze travels to Ace for a long moment, and then finally drops to Luffy in the bed between them. There is something in his face—something more than the spite-and-caffeine-fueled monster of a man he would like the rest of the world to believe he is—something not quite so old, not quite so burdened, that looks down at Sabo’s little brother and sees someone who deserved to be saved.

But all Trafalgar says is, “Would’ve been too boring to let him die now.” He leaves the room after that, the door shutting behind him solidly. 

“Didn’t Nami say that guy only met Luffy once?” Ace says, bewildered. “What the hell is he doing risking his neck for a stranger?”

“Sometimes that makes it easier,” Sabo says. “A stranger could be anyone.”

Ace wrinkles his brow, an uncomprehending twist to his mouth. He has come leaps and bounds from the hateful little boy he used to be, but he has always clutched his brothers closest and kept everyone else at arm’s length. 

Since forming the Spade pirates, that tight-knit circle in his heart has inched wider. Ace thinks the world of Deuce, even if he will literally attack anyone who implies as much like a rabid coyote. Masked Deuce, who has actually referred to his captain as a rabid coyote on more than one occasion, within his earshot and to his face, would kill for Ace indiscriminately. The rest of the Spades are equally as long-suffering and entirely devoted. 

Secretly, Sabo believes that Whitebeard is going to get through to him one of these days. The last time Marco and Thatch came around with a recruitment pitch, Ace only set them a little bit on fire. 

Maybe some people would call it selfish to put you and yours first, but Sabo doesn’t think so. As long as Ace wants to live for his brothers and his crew, he wants to live. He’ll endure prison with gritted teeth, he’ll fight the guards every step of the way to the execution scaffold, he’ll never, ever go gently. 

That’s all Sabo asks of him. Hang on for one more minute. Survive one second longer. 

It was no grand fleet or sprawling armada that spread across the horizon to retrieve Fire Fist Ace from the hands of the World Government, but the Revolutionary Army was hardly going to stand by on this one. Not when it was their Chief of Staff’s beloved twin brother at stake. And so the war began long before the battle had a chance to start. 

Half of the military forces meant to be stationed at Marineford never arrived, picked off ship by ship in the week leading up to the execution. All radio frequencies were jammed the day of, transmissions in and out of the island blocked universally, and the media blackout of what was promised to be a globally-televised event had people talking. 

The only thing available on every channel was music—the tone dial recording of a skeleton musician bowing a familiar song on his violin. Looping on every station, every monitor, every snailphone. It drowned any attempt the soldiers made at communication, and more importantly it irritated the hell out of them, but it had a secret third purpose as well; if Ace heard it, he would know exactly who was coming for him.

(Ace heard it. The morning he was slated to be killed, a harried guard ran from one end of the cell block to the other with a malfunctioning den-den in hand, and the music echoed off the stone walls like it was trying to make a point. 

It wasn’t his brother’s voice, but it was his song. Ace knew it like he knew his own name. Shackled as he was, he couldn’t reach his fire—but for the first time since he was captured, he didn’t feel cold.)

In another world, his execution was overseen by all three admirals and most of the warlords, the military rightly assuming that they would need to meet the full weight of Whitebeard’s infamous protection head-on. 

But in this one, Ace is a powerful pirate captain of a relatively small crew, rising in fame and bounty, but attached to no great superpower. Still the demon spawn of the Pirate King, still an example waiting to be made, but there was no way Sengoku could have anticipated the battlefield Marineford would become. 

The Spades, the Strawhats, the Revolutionaries and the handful of ships sailing in Whitebeard’s name to fight for that cocky young captain he was so fond of brought more than enough of a fight with them. The Red-Hair pirates’ fashionably late arrival was kind of an overkill. 

Sabo made sure to say so. 

“What, so I should just sit back and watch?” Shanks laughed as they made their retreat, one newly liberated prisoner folded safely into their ranks. “No way. I’d like to be able to look Roger and Rogue in the eye when I meet them in the afterlife, thanks.”

“Is there a reason you’re covering your eyes?” Ace asked hoarsely, sounding a little bit like he didn’t want to know the answer. 

“I’m not allowed to meet Luffy again until he’s become a great pirate,” the man replied cheerfully, jogging down to the wharf blindly with his hand clamped over his face. Deuce, glued to Ace’s side for the foreseeable future, traded a long-suffering look with Benn Beckman.

After the clusterfuck that was Sabaody, Kuma sent the Strawhats safely to Baltigo one by one. When an RA mole within the Marines brought news of Ace’s execution, half of Luffy’s monsters went back to retrieve their ship, and the other half forged ahead with the rescue mission. 

So it’s the Thousand Sunny they made their getaway with, the cheerful little lion ship an extra special fuck you to the Marines that made Sabo feel warm inside. 

The team has since scattered, the Revolutionaries and Red-Hair pirates breaking off to lead the Marines on a very merry goose chase. The Whitebeard pirates don’t go away without first passing Ace along yet another offer to join their ranks—to their credit, they seem amused by the whole thing, as if Ace spitting sparks in sheer annoyance and the Spades’ prickly, proprietary offense are all part of the game. The Polar Tang is nesting abeam the Thousand Sunny while the Heart’s captain consults with the Strawhat’s very young doctor, something that seems to put the little reindeer at ease. 

They’re in the aftermath. Sabo takes a deep breath for the first time in what feels like weeks. 

Luffy collapsed the second his feet hit the grassy deck of his ship, his body crumpling beneath him like a puppet with its strings all cut. It would have been horrifying, if he hadn’t been snoring loud enough for Sanji to hear it from the galley and come out to investigate. Zoro scooped him up and Nami held the door open to the room she and Robin share, what would have been the captain’s quarters on any other ship, and Luffy was deposited carefully in a soft bed. 

“He needs a bath,” Nami said, nose wrinkled in a way that did nothing to disguise her affection as she combed his dirty, sweaty hair away from his face with her fingers. 

“It’s laundry day anyway,” Usopp replied, coming through the door with his arms full of someone’s well-loved blanket. Sabo smiled to see his spoiled little brother tucked in by his friends. Some things never changed. 

“Glad you’re okay,” Sanji said to Ace, the last one to linger in the room, keeping the door propped open with his hip. “Ghost pepper chicken curry for dinner,” he added, which was Ace’s favorite food, and the final straw for Sabo’s twin brother. He sat there blinking wetly at his own hands, at the bruises the sea-stone manacles left on his wrists, finally letting himself feel the weight of what he had survived. 

And now Sabo pats the bed beside him. Ace glares at nothing for a moment longer, before he gets up to join his brothers. It’s inevitable, like an act of gravity. The mattress gives beneath him and Luffy mumbles crossly in his sleep, turning toward them without waking. 

“Brat,” Ace all but whispers. Then he says, just as quiet, “Thank you.” 

Sabo says, “Nothing exists in this world that could have kept us away from you.”

Ace puts his head on Sabo’s shoulder, this wild young thing who doesn’t know how to want to live for himself yet. It’s okay. He’s figuring it out. He’s getting closer and closer. Someday soon he’ll understand that his siblings and his crew—his family—wouldn’t go to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t worth all their love. He’ll realize how deserving he is of all that. Until then, Sabo will believe it for him. 

“I’m on your side and you can call me and just like that,” Sabo sings under his breath, “I’ll sing a song to bring you home.”

“Hey,” Ace protests when he stops, muffled against Sabo’s shoulder. “Keep going.” 

So he does. 

—

Sabo is twelve, almost but not quite thirteen, and he’s much too old to cry. 

He had been sneaking through the market, ceramic festival mask on his face and hooded cloak hiding his hair, pockets full of those hot cinnamon candies his brothers love so much, when he glimpsed them. 

His parents. They were strolling along the decorated streets, arm-in-arm. Stelly was walking at Outlook’s side, talking importantly and waving his hands. And on Didit’s side, holding her hand, was… 

Sabo had to run away before he did something awful, like show weakness where one of the rich monsters might see it. He ducked into a side street and started running the second he was out of sight. His heart didn't settle until he was weaving through the familiar dingy corners of Edge Town and picking his way over heaps of trash in the Terminal. 

Even when he makes it into the forest, and the trees shelter him on all sides and the owl monkeys make their racket in hello, even when he’s headed in a straight line toward the place he feels safest in the whole world, he still hurts. 

They replaced him. Again. With a little girl this time. She had blond hair and brown eyes, as if her whole little person was spun from gold. Her pinafore dress was cookie-cutter perfect. 

Sabo wonders which noble line they adopted her from. He wonders if they even told her Sabo’s name, or if Stelly is the only brother she’s aware of, or if she would care one way or the other. He wonders what kind of person she is—if she’ll fit in, or get eaten alive. 

He doesn’t care what his parents think of him. He doesn’t. He is certain in his heart that they’re the worst sort of noble—they’re selfish and shallow and don’t know the first thing about what it really means to be a human person on this planet. He knows all that. 

He was unbelievably lucky to fully escape his family, to be presumed dead in their eyes, and he’s never going back. An act of god couldn’t drag him back. 

But there’s this awful pressure behind Sabo’s eyes and nose, and his face feels hot and prickly, like there are needles poking at him. 

He doesn’t love them. 

It’s stupid, so stupid, that there’s a tiny part of him that still wants to be loved by them.  

Sabo climbs the ladder to the treehouse with numb hands, easing the trapdoor open carefully so the hinges don’t squeak. 

The ancient camping heater Makino gave them glows a steady orange in the corner, clanging occasionally as it works against the December night air. 

It’s early evening yet, but Ace has been pretty sick, and Luffy has subsequently been glued to his side. Even with the noisy fireworks down on the beach from the end of the year festival in Goa, they’re both sleeping soundly, curled up tight together like leopard cubs. 

There’s a pile of quilts folded messily on the other mattress, waiting for Sabo when he comes home. The sight of them causes a sharp pain in his chest that he can’t explain. 

He takes off the mask, climbs out of his boots and cloak, and drags the extra blankets over to his brothers. One by one he adds them to the nest, layering them neatly and tucking in the edges, and then worms his way in next to Luffy, because Ace doesn’t rest well if he feels stuck or boxed in. 

Sabo’s parents replaced him for the second time, two years after he was, to the best of their knowledge, blown apart at sea by their precious Celestial Dragons. Had the ink on his death certificate even dried before they brought their new daughter home?

Sabo’s brothers saved him blankets, the best ones without any holes, even though they could have used them. Should have used them. Even when he wasn’t here, they were thinking of him. They didn’t want him to be cold. 

The sob takes Sabo by surprise. He stuffs a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. He sobs again, as quietly as he can.

He doesn’t notice when Luffy wakes up, but he feels it when clumsy fingers land in his hair, pawing through it as his baby brother hums a familiar tune. A well-meaning mimicry of every time Luffy’s older brothers have done this same thing for him. 

“So you can keep me somewhere out of reach but if you need me,” Luffy’s voice warbles like a sweet little bird, “just hum these memories and you can feel me. I’m always standing by.”

If Sabo opened his eyes, he would see that Ace is wide-awake, scowling up at the sky; their tiny family’s stalwart protector, standing guard even when he has a fever and he’s buried under a small mountain of quilts. 

And he would see Luffy’s sleepy, scarred face split in half by a smile, beaming like he was trying to put the sun out of a job. 

But Sabo keeps his eyes shut, and buries his face a little further for good measure, that tiny part of him that wants to be loved crying I am! They do! It’s such a big feeling he doesn’t know how to hold it. He wants to just sit with it for a bit longer. 

“Ace, sing,” Luffy breaks off to scold loudly. 

“Don’t even dream of bossing me around, Lulu,” Ace snaps back.

Ace’s voice sounds hoarse and sore, but he joins in anyway. Of course he does. Only Luffy gets some of the words wrong in every verse, and it sparks a scathing argument each time—the two of them alternating singing together and shouting over each other, putting their rowdy owl monkey neighbors to shame. 

It’s the best thing Sabo’s ever heard. He’s laughing too hard to cry anymore. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Since Pirates in the Caribbean is part of Disney why not add in to twisted wonderland about sirens since we did it before

Liked sirens are never mermaids but former humans who are wrongfully judge, heart broken, or died tragically at sea in a desperate moment an old sea deity answer their call and took their soul and memory for their old lives to be something dangerous to protect themselves to the point even merpeople fears them in the past, but now they are very rare and few between

And when they found true love the siren will die once they birth a child as they can only give their hearts as it's all they have left, but the cures are any descendents will forever have that yearning to be with ocean and if they ever change form by magic will be forever be a siren

What if half fae Snow Leopard whenever they get really stressed or upset they head to any large body of water near home or at school and just change form to cool off and only her closet friends knows about that secret

Let's say Leona, Jade, Azul and Floyd helps her out in her moment of stress and takes her somewhere where she can be in the water in their mer form and safely cry it out as they wanted their mate to feel safe in their moment of being vurnable and her singing an old sailor song " my jolly sailor bold " as it's a comfort song

But Kamil and Lilia an outsider accidentally discovered the secret and listening to her singing

Siren Song? | Yandere Twisted Wonderland x  Half-Fae Leopard Crewel Daughter Reader

Hah! Half-fae Leopard Crewel Daughter Reader? Sorrowfully singing such a heartfelt song and openly relying on others?

It’s the stuff of dreams

Even in this alternate reality, she would sooner die than be saddled with the embarrassment of sharing such pitiful emotion

But she has no connection to Sirens main storyline wise

As previously stated she doesn’t mope, hardly cries

Any and all frustrations are carried out by her violent anger bursts

Now if anything this situation reminds me of a previous situation where making you laugh is the objective

Otherwise, tears will not be shed 

And certainty not in the presence of even her childhood friends 

Let alone the sneaky interlopers

With Kalim, she just might indulge in him

“You’re such a dumb dog I doubt you’ll understand anything of what I’m saying….but that–this situation is disgusting and I hate it. That’s why I absolutely reject it!”

Now with Lilia, she gets far too worked up to even consider whatever there is to brood about

She’d sooner attempt to kill the fae than actually do anything else

“UGH, EVEN HERE THIS PLACE IS INFESTED WITH DIASOMNIA COCKROACHES! I’M GOING TO TEACH YOU A LESSON!”

But I do see swimming as a minor vice to your calming process

If you’re not laughing at someone’s pain and misfortune

You might go for a swim 

But that isn’t usually what you do unless you're goaded into it

“Come on, (Y/n) let’s go for a swim. M-maybe cool off a bit?”

“Cool off!? From what?”

“(Y/n) the tension is teeming–”

“You look like you could commit a murder!”

“Well I know I look killer! But I’m assuming you mean something else….fine. Move out of the way Floyd or I’ll use your head as a stepping stone.”

“Please!”

Leona on the other hand is a master at this and doesn’t need a body of water to cool your jets

Simply his presence, usually impedes your snappy nature anyway

So both of you kitties can relax without the water