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wileys-russo · 3 months ago

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finders keepers II a.putellas

part of the before the void masterlist finders keepers II a.putellas

"you're drowning me!" you huffed, trying to fight to run away as your sister smothered your face with sunscreen. "better than being burnt fresita." the girl chuckled, grabbing your wrist as you tried again unsuccessfully to make a break for it.

"mami its too much!" you tried with a pout, but the older woman only dismissed your complaints with a wave of her hand, too busy wrestling with the chair she'd brought to sit in to get it to open.

"the more you talk pequeña the more of it gets in your mouth." alexia teased in amusement as you made a gagging noise, spitting onto the sand and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"hate you." you grumbled once she finished, wiping the excess onto her arms as she raised an eyebrow. "qué fue eso?" she questioned as you gave a grin. "nothing!" you chirped, patting her leg and racing away before she could grab at you.

"fresa! espera a tus hermanas." eli yelled out in warning as you froze, just a few feet away from the welcoming bright blue of the ocean, deflating and groaning in annoyance.

"too slow! hurry up!" you yelled back stamping your foot with a scowl. "the attitude." alba mumbled, stripping off her shorts with a roll of her eyes. "your hermana is going through a phase, the two of you were the same." eli chuckled, sitting down in her chair.

"alba was worse, and she never grew out of it." alexia smirked, sprinting off as your other sister raced after her, your body language perking up as they started toward you, only you groaned again as they passed by and chased one another around on the sand.

"deprisa!" you yelled at them with a scowl that hadn't seemed to leave your face for weeks now, and if your sisters thought they got off easy with the terrible two's, they were nothing compared to your apparent sinister sixes as eli had dubbed this new grouchy behavior.

you seemed to miss a silent conversation shared between them, a few looks and a raised eyebrow and before you could blink hands were lifting you up and you were plunged into the freezing cold of the ocean.

surfacing out of the icy water and gasping for air you clung tightly to alexia's neck as she scooped you back up, kissing your cheek and wading out deeper after alba.

"that was not nice!" you managed to get out, teeth chattering slightly as your sisters body vibrated with laughter. "well telling us to hurry up was not very nice." she challenged as you only frowned, a few more kisses pressed to your face as you pulled a face of disgust and tried push her away.

"cold." you complained, wincing a little as your body sank slowly into the water as alexia stepped in deeper, making sure not to go too far out where she couldn't still stand and keep a good hold on you.

you were a strong swimmer, but there was a slight current today and your mami had different rules about swimming in the pool than in the ocean, so you knew to stick close to your sisters as much as they could be very annoying.

"well hermanita if you are too cold for a rocket ship-" alexia sighed faking as if to head back toward shore as you shook your head. "no no i'm warm now i'm warm i promise!" you begged, sighing in relief when she turned again and headed back into the water.

alexia calling out to alba who nodded you grinned happily as you shifted your position, now stood on alexia's hands and bending your knees doing your best to keep balance.

"tres...dos...uno!" the brunette counted down, pushing upward with all of her strength on one and sending you flying through the air, splashing down into the water as you surfaced with a happy giggle, climbing up and onto alba.

"your turn!" you patted her shoulder with a charming smile. "you're my best friend." you pouted adorably, the older girl rolling her eyes fondly but turning you around in her arms, and with another countdown you were tossed back up into the air.

this back and forth continued for awhile until both your sisters shoulders burned and they called it quits, starting to head back in as now invigorated by the cold fresh seawater you wouldn't shut up, yapping both of their ears off about the latest episode of your favorite cartoon you'd watched this morning.

"ale can we go get shells? por favor?" you tugged on your sisters hand with a pleading look the moment you all returned to where eli sat tanning, the brunette hesitating for a second as you turned on the puppy dog eyes and sure enough she cracked with a sigh.

your mami watched on with a smile as you all but dragged your eldest sister away with you, alba flicking out her towel though right as she was about to make herself comfortable and lay down you were calling out her name, gesturing wildly for her to join you.

"vaya! tu hermana te quiere." eli fixed her with a look before alba could even try to decline or protest, groaning and grabbing the hat eli held out toward her intended for you.

"swing me!" you held your arms up expectantly as both of your sisters sighed but took your hands, swinging you between them as the three of you headed off down the beach where the best shells were.

"stop!" you called out suddenly as you spotted something, letting go of their hands and racing off, returning a few seconds later with a bright red bucket and spade in hand that looked brand new.

"oye hermana, put that back por favor. it belongs to someone else!" alexia started but alba quickly stepped in. "ale. look around, someone left it behind, let her have it." alba shrugged, gesturing around where sure enough there were several couples scattering the sand but no small children in sight.

"can i?" you asked excitedly, looking between them with wide eyes as alba nodded but you knew alexia had the final say, the girl hesitating before giving in with a small nod.

"vale nena, finders keepers." but little did the midfielder know just how much trouble those two seemingly harmless words would cause.

"alba juro por dios give it back!" alexia yelled, a slam sounding as the younger girl slammed the bathroom door in her face, alexia gasping and wiggling the handle only to find it was locked, a string of colorful language leaving her mouth as she kicked at the door.

"mami ale said a bad word! and another one! and another one!" you chimed in from the breakfast table, mouth half full of cereal as eli sighed and alexia yelled for you to shut up.

your mami's coffee mug thumping against the wood she pushed her chair back with a scrape, storming off to sort out the fourth argument just of this morning alone.

for the last week and a half the putellas-segura household had turned into a war zone and eli was at her breaking point, both her older girls anything but role models for you as they'd been bickering and arguing daily, and things were starting to get nasty.

just yesterday it had gotten physical and not in the playful way in which you all sometimes rolled around wrestling.

luckily jenni had been there to intervene, rushing in to pull alexia off of alba when the girl accused her of taking her brand new runners, the pair of them exchanging words before they grew tired of that and decided to communicate with their fists instead.

you weren't home for that thankfully, and neither was eli as she'd left not long before it kicked off to pick you up from a play date with a friend from school, jenni chewing both putellas sisters ears off about their behavior as they seethed silently from the opposite ends of the room.

if only looks could kill.

your eyes flew wide in shock at the language which left your mami's mouth as she laid into both of your sisters about their ongoing immaturity, another slam sounding as alexia barricaded herself in her room.

with the look eli shot you as you went to no doubt tell her off as she returned, you fell silent and suddenly your cereal was the most interesting thing in the room.

you knew something was wrong when jenni drove you to school that morning, appearing seemingly out of nowhere as alexia remained locked in her room, eli already having left for work mere minutes ago much as she really wished she could stay to sort this out.

"vamos chiqui, where are your shoes?" the striker asked as you gave her an odd look. "why are you taking me to school? ale takes me on thursdays. is she coming too? did her car break? is she hurt? is she mad at me?" you asked confused as the tall girl hummed, squatting down to slip your feet into your shoes.

"your hermana is just a little...busy, she will still pick you up today fresa, promesa." jenni assure gently, honking your nose and grabbing your backpack where it sat already packed and ready to go on the counter.

"then you come to training and we can hang out all afternoon!" jenni grabbed under your arms, tossing you easily up into the air making you giggle before you were placed safely back on the ground.

"can i go say bye?" you asked hopefully, looking toward your sisters closed bedroom doors as jenni's face softened. "i will tell them you said bye pequeña." jenni knelt down with an apologetic smile, wincing as your face fell.

"mm school starts at nine, sí?" the striker asked as you nodded, foot poking at a rip in the carpet as you looked at the ground, hands hanging limpy by your side and clearly upset.

"if i get you a hot chocolate before school, will you smile for me?" jenni poked your stomach a few times, not missing the grin which curled into your features.

"can i get extra marshmallows?" you asked hopefully, causing the tattooed girl to laugh and grab your hand as she stood again, the pair of you headed for the front door.

"sí chiqui, but only if you promise not to tell your mami!"

"did she answer?" you asked, perking up as your teacher returned but your face fell again as the woman shook her head. "lo siento fresa, and your mami did not answer either." you sighed at that. "she has work, thats why alexia comes." you spoke quietly, feet swinging on the bench as everyone else had gone home already.

"maybe your hermana just forgot or-" "but she never forgets!" your bottom lip started to wobble as your teacher sat down next to you, a sniffle sounding as your shoulders sagged in defeat.

alexia was never late, or if she was she would always call ahead and let the school know.

"está bien fresa, está bien." your teacher rubbed your back as a few tears leaked from your eyes, your shirt used as a makeshift tissue as you scooted a little closer, seeking comfort from the kind woman beside you.

though right as you had calmed down a little and took your teachers hand ready to head over to the office, a figure appeared in the distance, arms waving and flailing about as she sprinted over clearing the distance in next to no time.

"lo siento muchísimo! i could not find my phone today and my football training started late and i could not see the time and-" alexia paused, hands on hips and struggling to catch her breath as ragged gasps sounded between each word.

she stumbled backward as your body crash tackled into her legs, gripping on tightly as your sister caught her footing, sending your teacher an apologetic look who was clearly unimpressed with the whole situation.

"i thought you forgot about me! are you mad? is it because i didn't say bye? jenni told me i couldn't! i'm sorry!" you rambled out, and your sisters heart broke at the old tear tracks down your face and the fresh tears pooling in the corner of your eyes.

"no no no hey fresita i am not mad at you. lo siento amorcita, lo siento mucho!" your sister dropped to her knees and hugged you tightly, your face buried in her shoulder as your fists gripped the material of her hoodie.

though you were getting taller each day and eli discouraged it alexia picked you up and adjusted you on her hip, mumbling repeated apologies to your teacher as the two of them had a brief conversation, your face remaining pressed into alexias shoulder.

feeling her start to walk away you looked up, giving your teacher a small wave as she got smaller and smaller, the woman waving back though still with a frown on her face as alexia hurried off toward the carpark.

an apology ice cream and many many hugs and promises none of this was your fault later and you arrived to training, sadness long melted away as you were due to hit a sugar high and alexia began to wonder if the sweet bribery was a bad idea.

a quick word to the staff and you were given a few little jobs to help out with and keep you preoccupied, your presence forever a distraction as you were much beloved within the team by more than just your sister and her girlfriend.

you were helping out alberto today who was in charge of the equipment, in awe as he took you to the sheds with him, helping him to count everything and grab out lots of cones and balls and little pegs the girls needed to jump over after their warm up.

you thought some of the things they did at training were silly but in your eyes alexia was the best footballer in the world so they must be important.

after you finished helping alberto you joined the girls as they took a break, nearly starting a water fight when patri sprayed you with her bottle and leila gave you hers to tip over patri when she wasn't looking.

"vamos fresita, run!" leila's voice boomed after you with a laugh as you took off with a soaked patri on your heels, but you were a lot faster than you seemed and with the whistles blown for training to resume you hid behind leila's legs with a grin as patri pulled a face at you and walked away.

after your face was once again smothered in sunscreen by your sister much to your ongoing complaints, you were taken to the physio's office.

you were given some cool pictures of football boots to colour in, chattering away to heather about everything you learned at school today as she colored in her own picture, but hers was a strange looking circle with all of the girls names on it.

you offered her to colour in your other football boot since hers seemed boring but with a smile and a ruffle of your hair the girl declined, taking you for a snack break a few minutes later.

getting a phone call the woman stepped out of the locker room, leaving you to look for the snacks you knew eli always packed and hid at the bottom of your sisters bag when you spent the afternoon at training.

they used to be in your backpack but then they'd never make it to training as you'd trade them at lunch with your friends, and then hours later whine to alexia about how hungry you were in hopes she'd buy you a chocolate bar from the vending machine.

though everyone caught on quick to your little plan and now your snacks were wedged beneath your sisters smelly socks causing you to huff as you finally yanked them out.

another two hours and you were back in the change rooms again, alexia was showering as you waited patiently to head home, your backpack tucked away in her cubby and a full bottle of water practically forced down your throat by jenni as you hadn't drank any all afternoon.

teaching leila a new clapping game you learned at school, a few of the other girls watching on in amusement at just how bossy you could be, truly a mini alexia in all of her prime.

"did anything fun happen at school today pequeña?" jenni asked, taking a seat behind you and you shuffled back a little to lean into her, growing bored of yelling at leila who was not good at playing your game.

"we made picture frames, did some math, i moved up a reading level cause alba helped me learn some new words, i got married, ale was late to pick me up-" you listed off, legs sprawled in leilas lap as jennis hand found its way over your mouth.

"married? who did you marry!" you were pulled up to stand on jenni's lap as the girl narrowed her eyes at you. "javi! my friend." you shrugged, wiggling side to side. "fresa do you need to use the bathroom?" marta noticed and asked as you shook your head.

"did you kiss him?" leila asked with a cheeky grin as jenni punched her in the arm with a glare. "no! kissing is gross." you stuck your tongue out as the striker sighed with relief.

"i thought you were gay pequeña." leila teased, whining as again jenni punched her in the arm. "i am! very gay." you chirped, still not understanding what that word actually meant as jenni raised her fist to punch leila again and the girl scurried away right as your sister reurned.

"yuck!" you groaned as her wet towel was dropped on your head, yanking it off and giving her a mean glare as you threw it at her and she effortlessly caught it, dumping it into the laundry bin with a wink.

she was always extra annoying after training, and your mami said it was something about happy chemicals in her brain after running around and getting sweaty, which you didn't understand cause doing that at lunch just made you tired.

"tu hermana got married at school today." jenni smirked as alexia paused, head slowly turning toward you as you sent her a smile. "you are not allowed to get married until you are forty." your sister warned, pinching your cheek and shaking your head side to side

"says who!" you huffed, moving off jenni's lap and standing up on the bench with crossed arms. "says me!" alexia mocked your tone, pulling a face and pushing at your forehead as you stumbled backward, jenni catching and pretending to drop you making you giggle and hit her knee.

"have you seen my keys?" alexia asked her girlfriend who shook her head, slender fingers digging into your sides as she hung you upside down and your squeals filled the change room.

"i had them in here-" alexia muttered to herself, digging through her bag with a confused frown, hitting the strikers leg and nodding for her to put you down.

"did you move my keys when you got your snacks?" alexia asked seriously and you shook your head. "do you know where they are?" she asked as you nodded, but made no move to grab them.

"fresa. we need to leave, where are my keys?" alexia sighed, fixing you with a serious look. "i have them." you announced, still making no move to get them as your sisters patience wavered.

"can i have them?" alexia asked with a raised eyebrow as you nudged your way past her, digging your hand into the side pocket of your backpack and pulling them out, offering them to her.

"where did you even- no, i do not want to know." the brunette decided, grabbing your bag in one hand and slinging her own over her shoulder, a frown creasing into her eyebrows at how much heavier your backack seemed.

"hermana what is in here?" alexia questioned, stopping and putting your bag down intending to open it as you climbed back up onto the bench and wedged yourself into the way.

"mine!" you scowled, smacking away her hand with a loud smack as jenni whistled quietly and stepped away to collect her own things, having heard all about your newfound attitude from alexia and wanting nothing to do with it.

"you don't hit me! vale?" your sister grabbed your wrists and looked down at you sternly as you rolled your eyes and stomped your foot. "now what is in here?" still gripping your wrists alexia lifted you off the bench and down to the floor before unzipping your bag.

"no!" you tried to push her away as she held you off with one hand easily, the other digging through your bag and her frown deepening at all the random objects inside.

"amor! ven aqui." alexia called jenni back over, mumbling for her to hold you as the striker scooped you up, pinning your arms to your side as you wriggled and kicked in her grip.

both hands free now alexia upended your backpack, giving it a shake and watching as an assortment of things came tumbling out, most of which did not belong to you.

"dios mio, that is my missing boot!" jenni realized seeing the bright orange shoe she'd spent the last two days hunting around for, having to borrow a pair instead which had given her all sorts of blisters trying to wear them in.

"-and my socks!" "my keychain!" "my fitness tracker!" "is that my shin pad?" "i've been looking for these!" "these are mine!" "where did you get this?" "fresa!"

jenni had put you down, a small crowd of girls gathering and grabbing out their items from the small pile of your hidden treasure as you tried to sneak off among the chaos, your sister catching your eye.

"come here. now!" the brunette growled as you dragged your feet slowly over, stopping in front of her as she crouched down to be eye to eye with you.

"these are not yours. why did you take them hermana? stealing is very very very wrong, and you are in a lot of trouble." alexia warned firmly as you hung your head and crossed your arms.

"but i found them." "so? they are not yours fresa." "you said finders keepers. i found them, i keep them!" you looked up as you defended yourself, alexia's stern facade faltering for a second as jenni snickered but shut up at the fierce evil eye sent her way.

"i-" alexia started, hand coming to rub at the back of her neck as she tried to think herself a way out of this was you looked on expectantly.

"i should not have said that. when you found the bucket at the beach, we should have left it behind in case someone came back for it, i was wrong." alexia explained, moving to sit on her knees as her large hands rested on your shoulder.

"but you cannot take things that do not belong to you nena, that is called stealing and you can get in big big big trouble. vale?" alexia warned as you sighed but nodded, mumbling an apology and quickly flinging your arms around her neck in a hug.

"no pasa nada, but you will go and say sorry to everyone before we leave. sí?" "sí ale."

it was during a very quiet drive home that alexia began to realise that this little stealing habit of yours might not have been so new, the last week or so of arguments over things her and alba had assumed the other to have taken from the other without permission swirling through her head.

which is how you ended up being marched to your room the moment you stepped back inside, alexia's hand on your back pushing you as your backpack hung off her shoulder and she called out alba's name.

"what else did you find that you kept? go get it, now." alexia warned once you reached your room, alba standing warily in your door not having a clue what was going on and still a little angry with your eldest sister for this morning.

but as you disappeared under your bed, now just barely able to wiggle beneath it as you were growing everyday, and things began to pile up in the middle of the room, your sisters eyes both widened.

eventually it would seem your little haul came to an end as you sat on the floor with a guilty look on your face, not missing the obvious anger and annoyance on their faces as they seemed to have another one of their little silent conversations.

"alexia, do you remember what happens to little thieves en españa?" "Oh, sí! i think i do."

"what happens?" you asked nervously, scooting backward a little as your sisters slowly advanced forward, a new much scarier look on both of their faces now as your heart started to race and your back hit your bed.

"i think they cut off their fingers? one by one." "oh i heard they scoop out their eyes with a spoon." "fresa...are you a thief?" "i think we need to get a spoon hermana, i think eyes first, then we cut off her fingers." "...get her!"

"MAMI!"

#woso x reader #🍓☀️#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso #woso community #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships.

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing.

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel.

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe.

For years they did this until they were gone too.

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time.

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman.

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder.

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance.

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more.

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified.

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you.

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders.

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away.

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind.

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock.

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation.

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you.

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind?

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant.

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back.

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel.

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt.

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all.

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued.

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned.

Nothing.

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins.

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting.

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south.

And then you lock eyes once more.

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself.

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him.

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

“Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.”

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements.

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples.

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?”

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself.

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills.

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear.

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before.

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.”

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind.

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?”

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching.

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly.

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in.

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising.

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave.

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze.

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.”

Your tight arms somewhat loosen.

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships.

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living.

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.”

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back.

He was…asking you?

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.”

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids.

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting?

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling.

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart.

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him.

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still.

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash.

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face.

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel.

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish.

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him.

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck.

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked.

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head.

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand.

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings.

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.”

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.”

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.”

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden.

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment.

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them.

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles.

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.”

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping.

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you.

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you.

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?”

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching.

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch.

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement.

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up.

Feels nice.

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing.

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following.

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist.

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t.

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose.

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.”

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?”

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look.

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.”

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening.

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?”

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does.

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.”

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips.

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different.

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment.

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.”

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship.

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne.

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.”

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.”

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt.

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often.

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle.

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen.

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder.

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.”

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—”

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh.

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…”

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.”

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?”

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat.

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction.

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat.

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

“Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once.

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers.

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure.

A dangerous mix of two different lives.

It couldn’t last.

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lilacs-stash · 1 year ago

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Shout out to my favorite image ever

wanted to draw some guys and ships i usually don't draw. exceptions for mic, suitcase and nickel of course.

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lizardboiii · 8 months ago

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Tongue Tied┃One Piece

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: 18+, SFW, violent undertones, f!reader, mihawk's eyes, terrible nicknames

│wc: 1.8k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: poneglyph writing/speaking in different font. normal font is any other language as written. enjoy <3

・❥・

│Chapter I: Bird of Prey

Squawking.

Soft and high pitch, the incessant cries of seagulls flooded your ears like a symphony. You groaned audibly at the noise. An action you almost instantly regretted as a sudden rush of frigid sea water seeped into your cracked mouth.

Hacking up a storm, you were quick to come to your, mostly delirious, senses. You laid sprawled out on a strange gloomy shore. The water, almost too calm for your liking, combined with an eerie fog rolling in from the seemingly endless coastline, felt as if you entered purgatory.

Stumbling to your soaked feet, you tested your balance. Though your legs wavered slightly, you managed to pull yourself from the water’s surprisingly strong tide. You felt like you might be sucked back out to sea.

Swallowing nervously, you grimaced at the bitter taste of salt still lathered on your tongue. It was a sickly reminder of your current predicament. You were completely stranded, alone. Clenching your eyes shut, you replayed the moments before the disaster.

Your rickety fishing boat swayed innocently on the open water, unaware of the massive storm brewing overhead. You had no time to prepare, no time to act, no time to ensure any self-preservation. In the blink of an eye, the sky blackened.

The small white capping waves surrounding you abruptly grew in size and violence. Your small boat stood no chance. The futile struggle to stay right side up only lasted moments. With one final wave, your boat capsized from the continuous abuse.

Shrieking, your body was thrown into the raging sea like a rag doll. You struggled hard against the current, only managing to break the water’s surface every couple of seconds.

Eventually, your arms grew too tired, too weak, too heavy. It became more of a struggle to convince yourself to stay afloat than to fight the waves dragging you beneath their depths. Then, the world went dark.

Taking a deep breath, you willed away any more dreadful thoughts. The sooner you could find another spare ship the quicker you could go back home.

Scanning your surroundings, you searched for any ships, abandoned or not. Immediately your eyes caught a shocking scene. Nestled far beyond the shore, a massive crumbling castle towered over the island. You couldn't help but remark how fitting it was.

The discovery did little to encourage you. An abandoned castle meant no life, and no life meant no ships. You threaded your fingers through your hair. How could this get any worse?

The sound of thunder mocked your internal monologue. Groaning loudly, you began your venture towards the lonesome castle in an attempt to escape the rapidly forming storm.

You managed to reach the half point mark before your skin began to crawl. You couldn't help but feel like something, or someone, was watching you through the underbrush. Though you tried to chalk it up to paranoia, you swore you saw something red glowing within the trees. It was just your luck to be marooned on a haunted island.

Whether it was divine intervention or simply uninterest, you managed to reach the chipped steps of the castle unscathed. Although that didn't stop you from hightailing it inside.

A closer look inside the fortress told you just how regal it once appeared to be: large stained glass windows, tall decorative pillars, and corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. You were in awe from the moment you entered.

In due time, you found your way to an equally extravagant dining room. The wood of the table was scratched and weathered, but ultimately well taken care of. However, the real centerpiece of the room was a massive chair befitting the end.

The plush seat was adorned with gold trim and a deep red leather. You wondered if someone had lugged it in there from the throne room. Swiping a finger across the armrest, you rubbed your fingers together. A thick layer of dust slowly floated to the ground.

You hummed more so to yourself, “𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍.”

Spinning on your heel, you shamelessly plopped yourself down on the gaudy throne. It wouldn't hurt to live in a palace. For a short while at least. You could stay there until you were able to either build another boat or be lucky enough to be rescued.

You smiled, “𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗.”

・❥・

After a month of trial and error, it seemed like you greatly overestimated your raft crafting capabilities. The trees on the island were far too thick for you to cut down with no ax, and any driftwood washed up on the beach seemed to crumble from even the gentlest touch.

You were starting to wonder if you’d be trapped there forever.

That was until you ventured out on your daily search for partly salvageable driftwood. Aloft the gentle waves was an all too strange… ship? Raft? Casket? To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was.

There was only thing you knew for sure, the small vessel was currently barreling towards your remote island. You could barely contain your excitement.

You were going home.

Dropping the withered planks in your hands, you allowed them to shatter against the plush sand before bolting to get closer with the ship. Your eyes remained locked in on the crossed shaped mast that grew ever closer. Its black sails signaling “Freedom”.

Your tunnel vision made you stumble and trip over your own feet as you ran. And when you weren't running - you were crawling. Your hands desperately clawed at the damp sand in order to lift yourself back to your feet. You could not bear to lose your fleeting chance of leaving your island prison.

Eventually, the gothic ship docked. Its black sails were slowly being pulled into bundles when you finally managed to reach it. And reach it you did.

You met the ship with little discretion. Squabbling and frantic, you made no effort to contain your emotions in front of the ship’s presumed Captain. Manners could wait until your safety was secured.

Thrusting your hands in the air, you made your presence widely known, “𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎!”

The man before you hesitated slightly before releasing his hold on the black stained linen. Turning his obscured face, you noted the lackluster expression he wore. He seemed neither surprised nor unsurprised, merely…inconvenienced.

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,” you laughed awkwardly, “𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠!”

The man greeted your pitiful tangent with a stagnant silence. If you hadn't noticed his previous disinterest, you definitely noticed it now. Taking a deep breath, you internally assessed your newly appointed “savior”.

He stood tall, extremely so. He was taller than any man you knew on your home island. You assumed you'd only reach his chest if you stood side by side. However, he certainly did not lack in the muscle department either. He was broad, thick even. You wondered if his shoulders were as firm as they looked.

Gradually, your eyes wandered to an elegantly crafted coat. The dark red of his sleeves were a stark contrast against his unnaturally pale skin which, unsurprisingly, he left on full display. Not that you minded of course.

However, the most striking attribute he bore was his eyes. They shone brighter than any golden jewel found on the Grand Line, rivaling the sun itself. You certain even Helios swooned over his canary colored irises.

Entranced, you allowed yourself to be captivated. The thick black rims surrounding his pupils produced an almost stained glass appearance. All you wanted to do was consume more, read into them like a devout worshiper. It was as if they bore scripture.

You unconsciously shifted forward, trying to get a closer look. That was your first mistake. Abruptly, those very eyes sharpened with hostility, sizing you up like a hawk. It seemed your sudden movement labeled you a threat.

“Who are…”

The temperature felt as if it plummeted. Icy and thick, you didn't need hands around your neck to feel like you were being strangled. You couldn't understand why this was happening, mainly because…

“You?”

You had no idea what he was saying.

Hands trembling, you stared at the man above you in confusion. You were sure if you did not respond he could, and would, take action. Maybe if you weren't quick enough in answering he’d kidnap you and sell you off for some pocket change. Or worse, he would kill you for just causing him trouble.

You racked your brain for any semblance of a response. What could you have even done to warrant such an intense reaction?

“…𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝,” You swallowed hard, “𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍?”

The tense atmosphere gave way slightly, releasing its invisible hold on your throat.

Sighing quietly, the ravenette grumbled to himself, “It seems we don’t speak the same language. How inconvenient.”

Annoyed, the taller man searched your person with his honey laced eyes. Satisfied with his findings, he returned his attention back to his vessel. You pondered if your lack of weapons made you into a problem that could be “dealt with later”.

However, you didn't want to be tossed aside until later. You wanted to return home. And if that meant attempting communication with a hostile vampiric asshole, you'd have to try!

“𝚄𝚖,” You scrambled to the other side of the man's ship in an attempt to regain his attention.

“𝚂𝚒𝚛, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝!”

Goldy, newly nicknamed, paid you no mind, favoring to strap down his ship without haste. You chewed on the inside of your cheek in frustration.

Shuffling beside him, you implemented drastic measures. However, your hand only managed to move a centimeter towards Goldy’s arm before your wrist was swiftly snatched in a painful grip.

Not wasting a moment of Goldy’s notice, you began frantically pointing at yourself with your free hand, “𝙸!”

You motioned at the ship, “𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy released his iron grip and stood to his full height, “Stop being troublesome.”

“𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!”

The ravenette merely continued to stare at you disinterested. Perhaps he was debating if cutting you down now would be easier than listening to nonsensical ramblings.

Nevertheless, you waved your hands down your body, “𝙼𝚎!”

You gestured at his ship, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You clasped your hands together, “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎!”

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

Goldy easily ignored your pestering and walked around you, “I don’t have time for this.”

“𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝!” You ran after his form, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You followed Goldy with continued pleas. Yet, his long legs persisted across the desolate beach to the hidden pathway located in the tree line.

Your brows furrowed at the observation. It took you a week to find the secret trail that led from the beach straight to the castle. How could he have found it so easily?

You finally fell silent as Goldy traversed the path like the back of his hand. He walked confidently. It was as if he had been on the island before.

A sudden thought crossed your mind.

Goldy lived here.

・❥・

#one piece #one piece fanfic #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #seven warlords #marines #one piece marines #poneglyph #language barrier #enemies to friends to lovers #friends to lovers

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