#marine room tavern

[jeffcbliss]

Sean (left) and Chad Bierman of Familiar Faces - The Marine Room Tavern; Laguna Beach, CA (7-26-24).

Photo: Jeff Bliss

[sunshinescribes]

Sanctuary

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Part 2 of this fic

Rating: None

Warnings: Pining, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Soft!Mihawk

Mihawk wishes he could make you stay.

If only he were more convincing, less prideful, perhaps he could speak the words he holds in his heart. Within him is a chamber of contained confessions, a world that exists purely for you, and the voices within rage and plead. Do not let her go. Do not let her leave us again. 

But he will. 

You run, and he lets you.

Even if Mihawk split open his chest and handed you his still-beating heart, you would flee. You’ve done it all your life. Slipping between forgotten towns and unknown islands. The concept of home is foreign—belonging, a myth. 

Every place you have ever escaped to has called itself sanctuary, and every time it was a lie. Even Kuraigana Island.

Even him.

Mihawk considers you as you rest beside him on an uncomfortable cot tucked away in a tiny room at the back of the tavern—a room that appears to house you for the time being. His eyes fix on your face, spellbound by that rare, delicate softness that graces your features—a momentary repose before you wake and the world becomes ugly and unfair once more. If Mihawk tries hard enough, he can almost convince himself that you both are back behind the walls of his castle, curled comfortably in a bed large enough to sleep an entire family.

He had loved you most in those predawn hours—how your hands would move instinctively in your sleep, drawing him closer until you both were chest to chest, heart to beating heart. You would bury your face in his neck, inhaling softly as if you needed to breathe him in, and feel his essence in your very lungs. 

Nothing could take him away from you in those moments. The walls of the castle could crumble around him, and Mihawk would still refuse to stir—refuse to be separate from you. 

It had been so lovely, so right…and then he went and did the one thing you could never forgive.

A heavy sigh leaves Mihawk, thinking back on that ruinous day. He should have known better; known the news he was about to share would bring devastation, but he had been blinded by hope and compelled by a fear that haunted him like a tortured soul. 

Mihawk doesn’t want to remember, but the image is forever burned in his mind’s eye. You, nestled comfortably in one of the castle’s many alcoves. Sunlight streamed through the window like holy light, making you the image of divinity. He had called to you softly, and you stirred, prying a single eye open begrudgingly, nearly on the brink of sleep. 

He had lowered himself to the ground, brushing his knuckles against your cheek while playfully chiding you. Your frustration faded quickly as you leaned into his touch, wordlessly demanding a kiss.

Mihawk had been all too happy to oblige, tenderly pressing his lips to yours. He muttered soft words against your mouth—I have something to tell you. 

You had been so unsuspecting, completely at ease, running your finger along the line of his jaw, softly brushing his trimmed beard in a way that made his eyes flutter.

God, he should have just pulled himself into the alcove with you. Crowded into that tiny space and drew you flush against him. He should have whispered against the curve of your neck until you drifted back to the land of dreams.

No. 

It needed to happen the way it did. Even if the image of you pulling back from him suddenly still snags his heart. You had blinked at Mihawk in disbelief when he spoke his next words, as if perhaps you had imagined them—it couldn’t be true; he would never align with the World Government. He would never...

But he did.

They had requested him many times before, but Mihawk had never cared for their offer. He did not fear the marines nor the World Government, and he certainly cared little for the overzealous fools that threw their weight around like children on a schoolyard—the self-important government dogs, warlords of the seas. 

Mihawk had not thought much of it until he had you.

Your bounty posters became a cruel warning, promises of death. Mihawk rarely ever considered his own mortality, but yours haunted him, and his nightmares began to paint tortuous scenes—Mihawk pushing through a crowd that watches with wicked fascination and contempt as you kneel at the execution platform. He calls your name in his dreams, but you never react. All that cheer and fire is stripped from you. Mihawk moves as if wading through water, every step heavier than the last, and he knows he can’t reach you—can’t lift Yoru fast enough to turn the platform into splinters. You are going to die, and there’s nothing he can do. 

The nightmares bled into reality, no longer a possibility to consider but a matter of when. Better pirates that you and him had fallen at the hands of the World Government. 

And so he turned to them finally and agreed to do their bidding, even if he had no such intentions. His immunity would shield you both. His title would be a warning to bounty hunters and marines alike. If you seek to ruin my peace, you will die by my blade. 

Mihawk had expected your apprehension, but he never anticipated your rage. Eyes that had once looked at him fondly now regarded him as if he had pierced Yoru through your heart and swore to drag you to Impel Down. Your words turned viscous, laced with venom and fury and pain.

And all at once, the serenity of a love you both shared had shattered. You left as if you couldn’t stand to be in the same space as Mihawk and swore you could never love him—never share a life with him, not when he served them.

Mihawk blinks through the memory, tries to force it far away, but it’s impossible while you’re sleeping so peacefully beside him, making him painfully aware that he is lacking without you—that the feelings he thought he had mastered had only been lying dormant, waiting for you.

You stir suddenly, a soft sigh escaping your parted lips as your eyes slowly open. You blink a few times, your eyes adjusting to the soft light that pours through the windows of the neglected tavern.

You stare at him, the fog in your mind slowly clearing. Mihawk watches as your brows pinch together and a dissatisfied groan leaves you. 

“Fuck…I thought that was a dream.” 

You try to sound displeased but your voice is soft with sleep.

“Disappointed?” 

You catch the faintest hint of teasing in his voice, so quick and controlled that you almost mistake his response for a genuine question. Mihawk knows you aren’t disappointed—you’re panicking, desperately scrambling to rebuild the wall in your mind that makes it easy to act cold and indifferent. Without it, the playful insults and snide remarks die on your tongue. 

“I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” You lift to a sitting position, fixing your gaze on a tiny crack in the wall to keep yourself from looking back at Mihawk. “I hoped, anyway.”

You feel his sharp eyes considering you in a way that you aren’t sure you can take right now. All this attention and newness makes you feel like a caged animal in need of escape. The creeping unease serves to spark the fire within you, hot flames raging with a need to scald.

"Are you sure you can even be here right now?” You attempt to sound genuine, feigning a curious look as you glance at Mihawk from over your shoulder. “Won’t the Admirals miss their favorite errand boy?” 

You expect that quick flash of fire in his eyes—the bitter twist of his lips that tells you no more honeyed words will pass them. You can navigate that easily; taunt him until he’s shuffling out the door and you’re swearing to yourself that this was the last time.

Mihawk scoffs, but it’s light instead of sharp with malice, more akin to a laugh than anything else.

“I suppose they wish they had such power over me,” Mihawk muses softly, “but no one does. No one but you.”

You blink dumbly at Mihawk, too blindsided to respond. You want him to argue, not pacify—to meet you head-on with the same amount of fire, bite back in a way you know he’s capable of. Make it easy for me to leave. Make me hate you again.

It startles you how quickly you realize that he won’t. You had asked him to kiss you, knowing what it would mean for Mihawk to do so. You had whispered your hatred, fully aware that Mihawk would understand the true meaning behind your words. Both of you had thrown caution to the wind, fully aware of the consequences. You could run as you always do, but Mihawk wouldn’t make it any easier for you, not this time.

“We always would have ended up here,” Mihawk starts, as if reading your mind. “Neither of us is capable of letting the other go.”

You let out a mirthless laugh, furious at how right he is. You two had only ever been lying to yourselves, trying to push away feelings that refused to be denied. The connection between you is inseverable, no matter how hard you scrape and scream. Mihawk holds your heart in his hands, just as you hold his.

“I can’t come back to you Mihawk.” Your voice is low, barely a whisper. You feel worn to the bone, so fucking tired of this charade. Honesty is…terrifying, a vulnerability easily exploited, but there are no lies to tell that will soothe your scarred heart. “Not now. Not…”

“While I’m a warlord,” he finishes for you.

You nod, detesting the lump that forms in your throat and the way your eyes burn. God, you despise the World Government. If only your fury could give you the power to wage war on Mary Geoise and destroy them. Everything you’ve ever dared to love has been taken by them. Your true home. A life you could have lived. Mihawk.

You feel the softness of his mouth against your shoulder suddenly, a small comfort that has you swallowing a sob. 

“I didn't do it to hurt you…” Mihawk admits, pressing another kiss on your warm skin. “But I hurt you nonetheless.”

You feel the apology searing into your skin—words that much like you, he can’t speak. I’m sorry. Sorry I hurt you. Sorry I’ll continue to. 

A rough finger brushes against your cheek, drawing your attention back to Mihawk. You blink, your eyes falling to his lips, as Mihawk lifts his head from your shoulder. You feel your heart seize when you meet his eyes. There it is again. That look of worship—fierce affection, as if you burn brighter than the sun.

“Mihawk—” your voice trembles.

He captures your lips before you can say another word and kisses away the agony that tries to tear you to shreds. Mihawk is gentle, delicate in a way you don’t think you deserve, and you find that you’re grateful for it. Happy he can’t see the tear that rolls down your cheek.

I didn’t do it to hurt you.

You know. Mihawk is many things, but not cruel. Never cruel. You knew the day you left, but it didn’t matter. Your hatred of the World Government is vicious. All-consuming. You can’t see past it, no matter how much you wish you could. 

“You can run. Hide,” Mihawk whispers against your lips, “But don’t pretend you hate me. Not again.”

You hear the masked plea. Mihawk had spent months wondering, hoping like a fool that you still loved him. It’s impressive how well you shield your heart, hiding behind your quick wit and sharp tongue. Last night had been the first time since you’d left that you dared hint at the possibility that your heart had not abandoned him. The thought of being pulled back into the unknown is worse than any punishment you could impose on him.

“Don’t break my heart again,” you retort, leaning back into him. You think you hear Mihawk say never, but the feeling of his lips on yours again robs you of all thought. It’s agonizing how slowly he kisses you—takes his time tasting as if you two have all the time in the world. 

Tomorrow you will be long gone, little more than a sweet memory he’ll hold in the back of his mind as he ventures home, but you’ve given him the one thing he thought he’d lost forever: hope.

Not now. 

But someday. 

Mihawk is a patient man. He can await the day he’s able to find you one last time, not as Hawk Eye or a warlord of the seas, but as Dracule Mihawk—the solitary pirate. Marine hunter. The freest and fiercest man in the world, bound only by his love for you.

divider credit: cafekitsune

[fanaticsnail]

The Marine's Mistake

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,700+ (just a small little drabble for me!!)

Warnings: Clean-shaven Mihawk, lots of flirting, mentions of drinking.

@feral-artistry requested this a while ago, and I finally had enough in me to pump out this little drabble. I can easily see myself adding to this little relationship down the line, but for now it's all short, sweet and innocent.

Hushed whispers travelled along the rotund dining table in the dimly-lit tavern. Hands shielding lips, narrowed eyes, the smallest tilt of chins spread like the trickle of seawater through a crack in the ship’s hull to litter the hallway with the salty liquid.

“What do you think happened?” a red-headed marine uttered to her comrade beside her, eyes widening the longer her sights were held to the table in the centre of the tavern.

“He wouldn’t have shaved it,” another shook their head, raising the cool glass of bitter beer to their lips. A small foam line falling to their top lip as they pulled the glass back to utter: “it’s a part of his look, right? It wouldn’t be intentional.”

“Perhaps it was an accident,” a blonde, tall cadet uttered with a curt nod, “cannon fire, a blast or something.”

“I don’t think he’d be close enough to the end of a cannon for that to happen,” a smaller, pink-haired cadet offered in response as he adjusted his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You sat at the corner of the table, not quite following the conversation falling amongst your peers of marines. This was the third transfer you’d been a part of in the span of a month: the latest ship needing to utilise your skills as a hand-to-hand combat specialist to better the skills of the marines.

Vice-Admiral Garp and his marine cadets were in the early stages of building rapport with you, you only truly interacting with your peers and subordinates while running drills or swapping over watch shifts so far. This venture in land for the replenishment of supplies and to fix up any chipped wood for the ship was truly your first opportunity to really get to know your new crew on a deeper level.

You looked down at the end of your pint-glass, the slosh of the final dregs of the beaded liquid swaying as you held your gaze firmly to it.

“Marines,” you addressed your peers, bringing the attention of your drinking companions over to you, “I’m getting another round,” you rose to your feet, pushing your wooden bar-stool back beneath the table below, “speak now if you’d like another, I think it’s my turn this time?”

A chorus of a resounding “yes!” fell to your ears, prompting a small giggle rise in your chest. The “yes!” gained the attention of the rest of the small dining room, prompting you to lower your palm to the floor with a playful “shh”, the laugh falling as you began taking orders.

“I’m assuming all ales then?” you asked as your laughter diminished, “I should just get a jug, at this stage.”

“Yes to the jug!” the red-head began to chant, a broad smile displayed openly on her lips.

“Aye!” the marine beside her confirmed with a similar amount of enthusiasm.

Another giggle fell from your lips as you turned to make your way to the wooden bar, the barkeeper meeting your gaze with a nod in your approach. As you stood your torso up against the bar with a handful of berry clutched in your hand, your eyes travelled to the body which began their own approach to the bar.

The gentleman was adorning an open, cream-coloured silk shirt, frills embellishing the low collar with a crossed draw-string revealing the crevasses of his muscular chest. Dark and loose curls framed his face, angular and strong arches of his jaw and cheek bones comparable to carved marble. His yellow eyes beneath his long, dark eyelashes held an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

He was breathtaking. Your eyes travelled to his dark, leather pants held by a woven belt with a large, brass buckle. Trailing your eyes back up, you found your gaze met by the gentleman you were shamelessly undressing with your eyes; a warmth rising to your cheeks under the knowledge that you were found out.

“Marine,” he offered in a bored tone as he drew his body beside yours at the bar.

“Beautiful,” you challenged him, a small smirk rising to your lips. He arched his brow upwards in response, his intense frown no longer present atop his handsome features. He hummed, leaning his elbows against the wooden bar and flicking out his index and middle finger to gain the attention of the bartender.

“What are we drinking, gorgeous?” you asked him, turning your shoulders to offer him your full attention.

“We?” he scoffed, yellow eyes trailing over your face as his shaven chin pointed towards your own, “I am not buying you a drink, Marine.”

He turned back towards the bar, completely ignoring your presence beside him as he focussed on trailing the bartender with his eyes.

“I never suggested such a thing, charming,” you taunted him, your index finger trailing the benchtop beside him slowly; drawing his gaze to your digits. He arched his brow upwards, intrigue gracing his honey-coloured eyes briefly. The bartender finally gracing the both of you with his presence, brushing down the benchtop with a tea-towel and smiling broadly.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, placing his white and blue tea-towel over his shoulder and leaning against the counter.

“Three jugs of ale for the table in the corner,” you smiled, turning again to the man beside you, “and add his drinks to my tab, along with two more of what he’s having.”

The dark-haired man snapped his face back towards you, eyes wide at your boldness. His eyes narrowed at you, training over your playful expression.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he uttered in a low tone.

“None in the slightest,” you shrugged, your bottom lip falling into a small pout, “but I sure would like to.”

The man was taken aback, his eyes widening before a small smirk grew itself against his lips.

“A bottle of Sangiovese,” he tilted his chin back at the bartender, “and two glasses.”

You scrunched your nose upwards in delight, drawing out the berry to cover your tab and handing it over to the bartender. You turned to face your torso to the room, your elbows finding the bar behind you as you arched your back outwards in your leaning.

“Sangiovese?” you questioned the mysterious man beside you, “you in the mood for something more on the tart and sour side, handsome?”

“There you are again with the pet-names, Marine,” he taunted you with a small purr in his tone, prompting a warm flush to once again draw over your face. You broke away your eye contact with him and looked to the table of your peers; who seemed to have widening eyes and the colour drained from their faces. You shook your head a little, brows furrowing in question as they witnessed a waitress bring over their jugs of ale.

“And here I was thinking my poor mood would travel back home with me, after that meeting,” he uttered under his breath as the bartender came back with a decanted bottle of sangiovese and two crystal wine-glasses.

“What was that?” you asked him, turning your gaze back towards the gentleman who currently captivated you with his mysterious aura.

“Indeed, sweetheart,” he leant his body over yours, towering you beneath his intimidating aura, “something tart that I can roll over my palate with subtle spice is what the current mood of the hour calls for.”

Instead of backing away and cowering beneath his towered stoop, you instead arched your back upwards further and lulled your head to the side with your jaw revealed to him. He hummed down at you, reaching behind you both to collect the glasses and the decanter within his wide fingertips.

“You are intriguing,” he praised you in a deep rumbly whisper, his lips falling dangerously close to your own as he retrieved the objects behind you, “allow me to escort you outside to continue this delicious conversation over the wine you graciously paid for, that is-.”

You tilted your head, awaiting for him to continue his sentence. He turned his head to look to your commanding officer, Bogard and Vice-Admiral Garp, with his brow arched upwards. His lips curled up into a smirk, you watching how truly beautiful his smile grew to become.

“That is…-?” you trailed in question for him to continue, drawing your right hand up to his cheek. You utilised your index finger and thumb to collect his smooth chin and draw his attention back to you. Upon slowly sweeping the room before drawing his attention back towards you.

“That is, if you’re completely ‘off-duty’ for the rest of the evening,” his lips grew into a soft, playful grin. Oh, how gorgeous.

“A whole evening with a gorgeous stranger?” you questioned him, releasing his chin from your fingers and opting to caress his cheek, “and here I thought we were just sharing wine. Honey, you spoil me.”

A small rumbly growl released itself from within his chest to almost purr at you. He withdrew from his stoop, turning with the collected decanter and glasses within his right hand and turning to offer you the crook of his left elbow to escort you out of the tavern.

“You truly have no idea who I am?” he chuckled at you as he led you from the tavern doors, the room falling almost silent amongst the gasps and whispers from your peers.

“Should I, beautiful?” you asked him giving his bicep a small squeeze as you praised him. He sighed with a small chuckle, drawing his forehead in to press against your own briefly as he allowed the doors of the tavern to swing shut behind him.

The sunset hovering over the sea was a welcome sight, the warmth of the day falling on your skin and welcoming it into the romantic atmosphere you had both found yourselves in for the evening.

Dracule Mihawk was going to enjoy this unbridled and flirtatious attention for as long as you would allow yourself to play along with him. It had been a while since his aura of intimidation had been shed from his body, and even longer still since he was the one being approached at a bar rather than himself finding someone to toy with. He simply can’t wait for the pin to drop against the floor and you realise you are literally dancing with death.

And it was all thanks to a horrible prank performed by the chop-chop devil-fruit user. The devil-fruit user who was currently pinned against the hull of his ship by harsh chains of sea-stone as punishment fitting the crime. Perhaps he should even thank the infamous clown-captain for his idiocy, but for now: the promise of wine and a beautiful, flirtatious companion for the evening awaits. How Mihawk adored this attention.

[zwhoreo]

A fic of Luffy and Reader first meeting please 😍🙏 ( I love how you write Luffy)

tysm !!! <33 this turned out so cute i think

meeting him - luffy x gn!reader

fluff

summary: while watching the ocean on your front steps one evening, you meet a boy named monkey d. luffy. he tells you about his life as a pirate, and teaches you how to skip rocks in the sea

words: 1.6k

________________________

Evening is just around the corner but the sky is still high enough over those clouds on the horizon that there’s warmth on your skin, golden and marinated. You’re sitting on the stone steps of your front garden and watching the waves crash on the white sand in the distance, because it’s warm enough that it’s still worth it to be here, letting the breeze weave your fingers.

Not many people are around at this time of night, the world is peaceful and still, but that’s why your head turns, in curiosity and focus, at the sound of wooden sandals on the sidewalk ahead, a heavy thwacking of aimless stumbling, the horizon bends with a silhouette of a boy walking down the cobble path and looking ahead, dazed, smiling over nothing.

You lock eyes. Large, brown, thoughtless and friendly eyes. You’re captivated and for some reason your heart folds in on itself in a way you can’t quite explain. His features are delicate, oddly beautiful in an unlikely sort of way, a hazel tan and greasy black hair blowing gently in the wind beneath an old, frayed straw hat. He looks like he’s been out at sea for a very long time, but although weathered he’s incredibly youthful, an older teenager, you think. He’s dressed like a pirate, you know this look well, they come into taverns drunk on cheap rum and leer at the young girls, picking fights, you didn’t think there were many good pirates left these days but something about this boy is so profoundly different. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever seen before, in some way you can’t place.

You watch him, keenly interested now, chin resting on your hands. Maybe this is why he comes up to you, crouching so close in front of you, no shyness present in his face. There’s an old scar under his left eye, tight and pale with age.

“Hiya!” His voice is raspy and loud. “You seen my crew anywhere?”

“Your crew? Mm, I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone come by here for a while.” You find yourself talking differently than usual, not like you normally do with strangers, it’s something in your voice, your annunciation, that catches you off guard.

“Aw, really? There’s a lady with orange hair and this guy and he’s got green hair and three swords and-” He stops in the middle of a frustrated gesticulation when he sees your blank eyes. “Mm. Ok, I’ll go look in town.”

And just like that he gets up to leave. You’re saddened, but you find your words catching in your throat. Don’t leave.

But he pauses a few paces away, turning back after a brief consideration. “Hey, ya got any food? I’m real hungry.”

You look up, breath hitching. Yes, yes, this is something you can do. “Oh, yeah, I just baked some bread, actually. I’ll go get it if you wanna wait here.”

“Ooh! Sounds good. Hey, thanks!” he calls to you warmly, turning back, trotting to your front steps as you go inside.

The bread basket has been cooling on the windowsill, the crust is golden and steam wafts through the room and wets your hands as you pick it up to bring it to him. But when you come outside again he isn’t on your steps, or in your garden, you look around to find him but he isn’t anywhere, not until you step into the road and look over the rock embankment.

There’s the boy, he’s sitting in the white sand and playing with rocks, stacking them in lopsided towers with great intent. You smile when you see him. He isn’t gone. So you climb onto the beach and come to him, he grins casually, like you had been there all along, and his eyes light up when you set the bread in front of him.

“Ahh! This looks soo good!” Before his words are finished he’s already eating messily, he doesn’t care about the sand on his hands, he’s so focused.

You sit by him. You lean in, admiring his face, finally speaking, “I’m [name], by the way.”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy!” he proclaims with enthusiasm, still not looking up. “It’s good to meet ya!” And he goes back to eating, as if this simple greeting has made you best friends and now everything is solved, but that name is familiar somehow and you like him so much already and you need to know more.

“Are you a pirate?” you ask with a tilted head.

“Mhm!” Luffy says through a mouthful of bread, “and I’m gonna be king of ‘em!”

“Pirate king, huh?” You raise your eyebrows, you’re charmed by him.

“Mm! Do you like the sea, [name]?” You feel like he’s been shifting closer to you, you hear him all around you now, his chewing remains consistent, loud.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s one of the prettiest things in the world,” you say honestly, the waves glitter in front of you, an infinite land-sky, glitter on pearl on galaxy-blue. Sunspots, stars, they twinkle on its surface.

“It’s real fun to be a pirate,” he chirps, finishing the bread and turning to you, his smile is gleaming and his voice is soft but gleeful.

“Yeah? What kinda stuff do you do out there?” You just want to hear him speak more, you realize.

“Ah man, everything! We go on tons of adventures, and we sing, and we get to make new friends wherever we go… and we look for treasure! We’re tryna find the One Piece!”

He returns your enchanted stare. He makes it all sound so easy, taming the cruel sea. His chest rises and falls, breaths heavy with excitement, his hands palm at the sand and hey, he’s really moving closer now, isn’t he? His eyes are so sparkly, it’s impossible to look away from him.

“Wanna skip rocks with me?” he asks before you have time to reply. He’s distracted so easily, reaching happily for his little tower, weighing the smooth gray stone in his hand.

Aren’t you looking for your crew? you want to ask. But you can’t let go of him yet, this mysterious, perfect boy. So instead you say, “sure, if you can teach me. I’m not great at it.”

“You live by the sea and ya can’t skip rocks?” Luffy laughs at you, tossing his stone into the sea with a snap of his wrist, it bounces once, twice, spinning in the air, a battle to fly from the ocean’s hunger, before it’s pulled beneath, disappearing into the surf.

Your hands touch as he gives you a rock, perfectly round and smooth, warmed from his palm. You throw it but your arm falters, it falls with a splash, gone before it could fly, a ripple of a memory left on the water, nothing more. Luffy laughs at you again.

“Nah, that ain’t it, you gotta flick your arm and keep it straight.” He moves close enough where you can feel his breath on your skin, hot and thick. “Mm,” he murmurs in your ear, voice low and ripe, “like this…”

He’s behind you, leaning against you, taking your arm and positioning you for the right sort of throw. His skin feels strange, like warm rubber, but your mind is so clouded with him, with his musky, overpowering scent and the tickle of his hair, you don’t notice much of anything. By accident, for the briefest moment, his salt-dried lips brush your shoulder, this is like lightning within you. But for Luffy this is nothing, it means nothing to him to be this close, it’s just what seems so natural.

You throw again, a smaller rock this time, aided by his hands on your arm. You’re so dizzied by his touch and you expect it to be even worse this time but to your surprise the rock skips once, a single heartbeat.

“See! Ya did it!” Luffy shouts joyfully, slapping you on the back, a little too hard, before pulling you in for a hug.

This is the best hug you’ve ever had. So tight, so warm, he buries his head in your shoulder, his weight nearly knocks you into the sand. You grab him back, by pure instinct, you want this closeness never to leave you.

But in an instant he’s pulled away again, unfazed by his own affection. He adjusts his hat carefully, looking back at the water, face content. He throws and skips one last stone.

“Mh, my crew’s prolly looking for me, huh?” Luffy stands up, dusting off his jeans, tilting his head at you. And then he offers you a hand, pulling you up with him, you’re face to face again and he places a hand firmly on your shoulder and says, “you can come if you want.”

“Huh?”

“On my crew. You can come be a pirate with me!” And again he has that way of saying things so simply. He doesn’t know you, how could he be so sure? But in his eyes you feel so incredibly, impossibly known.

He turns around, ready to walk away down the beach into the dying sunlight, and he turns to you once more and says, “you gonna be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I will!” you call to him, and he flashes you a broad smile, a thumbs-up, before running away into the horizon. You know he’ll come back.

Romance isn’t even in your mind. You just have this intense feeling for him, a certain kind of instantaneous love that goes deeper than any of that. You feel bonded, like you’ve never felt before, and you don’t know how it happened. You just stand there in the sand, dazed and misty eyed. You want so desperately to see him again. Deep breaths, calm your body, tonight you’ll have time to dream about what you’ll say.

You could see the world with him. You want to right now, very badly, so why not? Maybe it is that simple.

[thydungeongal]

First day of Adventuring

Our intrepid heroes, Jimothy, Montgormery, Theophany, Chuckles, Theodore, and Stevelyn (introduced in a previous post) arrive in the village of Balaz's Wish in the Empire of Irazor.

Irazor is ruled by necromancer Lucien of Irazor, a level 12 Magic-user. He has well-brushed brown hair, glowing black eyes and a nose ring (Uncomfortable). In the pocket: a dirty handkerchief, 3 sp and 2 gp.

The village of Balaz's Wish is a simple village nestled between two mountains. As the party arrive, they immediately head to the local drinking hole, "The Lost Torch Tavern," to check the local bulletin board for leads.

Help requested! A heirloom of sentimental value was stolen from me. I will reward anyone who is kind enough to get it back. Yours, Kyranthia of Akaana Heading to Hammering? Payment guaranteed to a trusty courier. Ask for Berwin Lacy

Montgormery, who has named himself party leader, decides that a simple delivery quest is unbecoming of a man of his noble stature and his retinue, so he leads the party on a visit to this Kyranthia of Akaana!

Kyranthia of Akaana. She has bulging red eyes, delicate features and gap teeth (Exhausted). In the pocket: a quill and 3 sp. Her Decorated Sword is lost (or so claimed). Finder's rewards is 230 gp.

The party then goes to gather some rumors at the tavern while having some drinks, overhearing the following:

Kyranthia of Akaana’s decorated sword (actually Sword +1, Locate Objects) is somewhere in the Hideout of the Feared Hopes Avoid going to Nightmare Wetlands. There’s a Giant Leech there. Safia of Atali is very secretive recently.

A quirk of Hexroll is that once I reveal the first rumor it also revealed the secret about Kyranthia's sword. Well, regardless, the party now has an approximate direction to which to head: while the exact location of the dungeon is still a mystery, they know it is due East-Northeast.

Deciding that they are much better off heading North via the road instead of trying to cut straight Northeast through the mountains, they follow the road and chance upon a peculiar sight in the woods.

There's a stream of clear water here, flowing gently between the woods, over the smooth rock ground. When exploring this area, a giant triangular artifact made of polished iron, with large pointy spears attached, can be found wedged near a water stream. There's a 1-in-6 chance to find a secret door leading inside the artifact and a successful INT check will allow using a contraption inside it. If used, the object will magically levitate and will travel 1d6 hexes in a matter of minutes before crashing into the ground again, dealing 1d6 damage to anyone inside.

No one in the party (even Montgormery) is stupid enough to try and mess with a UFO. Regaining their bearings, they decide to head Northeast, into the woods.

And find a tavern at the bend of a river.

"The Baker's Torch Tavern" is welcoming travellers and adventurers near a water stream.

The party decides to call it a night at this point. They dine on some local delicacies and have some ale, and then go to bed. (At this point the generator kind of fucked up imo: the tavern only has two rooms available. Instead I had everyone pay the prize of the roof and bench.)

Here's a quick look at the menu:

Stewed slices of chicken, glazed with garlic and wine and served with baked potatoes for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of fish, glazed with red wine and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp⬝ Stewed fillet of chicken, marinated in honey and herbs and served with steamed vegetables for 2 sp

And here's a look at the map (I have accidentally been pressing here and there and everywhere, so it's actually showing much more than it should):

What I have omitted from the above description: checks for random encounters (since they didn't yield anything interesting) and the roll for getting lost (the party didn't get lost so they have their bearings for now).

[kodydrs]

The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace ( I )

➥ the first drinks

a/n: ace is the loml. i love him sm. this is gonna be a multi-part “story” but only like 4 or 5 parts. Hope everyone is having a nice day, and why not reply & reblog or send in a request / ask?

warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x fem!reader, fxm, underage drinking, 18!ace, 16!reader, swearing, tension (you decide whether it’s sexual or not) eventual smut, ace likes to call reader “princess”, marine!daughter!reader, not proofread (it’s never proofread), i’m bad at tagging

summary: a series of you and aces “first times”. - ace is a pirate, and you’re a vice-admirals’s daughter. you’re not 100% sure how you came to be together, but now he’s standing at your window on the second floor for the first time.

ib: none

request: yes / no

‘Ace.’ You hissed, seeing your boyfriend trying to quietly open your window. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

Portgas D. Ace. More famously known as Fire Fist Ace, is one of the most feared pirates on the Grand Line. With a bounty of $550,000,000 berries, you can’t exactly remember how you’d come to meet him for the first time, but you remember the second time when you found him face down in his food.

‘Ace?’ You called, shaking his limp body. ‘Get up before you choke.’ As if he was taunting you, the man shot up, coughing and spluttering. ‘Idiot.’

You smacked the man’s back, watching in disgust as he spat the food out. With a grimacing face, he brings a hand to his throat and rubs is gently while looking around the room. When the man’s gaze falls on you, his eyes light up.

‘Hey! It’s the Vice Admiral’s daughter! Long time, no see!’

You fold your arms, staring down at the pirate with a raised eyebrow. Ace just smiles and laughs at you. Without a word, you grab him by his hats string and drag him out of the restaurant onto the street.

‘Oi. Oi. Hey. Calm down, girl. I was just trying to have a meal.’

‘A meal where you die via food and a marine catches you? fucking idiot.’

He laughs quietly to himself as you drag him along the road.

‘Oh please. No marine is going to arrest me when I have my trusty Admiral’s daughter by my side.’

‘Vice-Admiral. And I have a name, you know?’ You let go of the string, turning to finally meet him face to face. ‘Plus, just because I’m around doesn’t mean you won’t get caught. I’m fully open to turning you in if you annoy me enough. And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought if you think I won’t.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever.’ He replies simply, brushing you off and turning to the nearest tavern.

‘Ace.’ You whine, grabbing both his shoulders. ‘I’m telling you to leave. Leave before we both get into trouble.’ The pirate just grins and ruffles your hair. In defeat, you flip your head to the ground and groans. ‘You’re insufferable.’

He laughs, linking arms and walking into the building.

‘So they say. But no complaints on my behalf.’ You let the older drag you along into the tavern, sitting you down at the bar. ‘2 beers please.’ He says to the bare tender, slapping a few gold coins onto the counter.

You’re quick to put your hands up, denying the offer.

‘Oh no. I don’t drink.’ Ace’s grin widens.

‘Why not? You’re so pretty and young, and you’re telling me you aren’t hitting the bar each night. What harm could it possibly do ya?’ His voice drops an octave, becoming almost seductive sounding. ‘Come on, princess. Let me buy you a drink.’

You looked between him and the bartender, smiling sheepishly at them both.

‘I’ll just get a water, please.’

‘Coming right up.’ The bartender says, working quickly to get you both your drinks.

‘So tell me.’ Ace says, leaning forwards with his forearms against the table. ‘Why doesn’t the Vice-Admiral's daughter drink?’

You smiled to the bartender as he placed your drink down and quickly took a sip.

‘You just answered your own question, fire fist. Vice-Admiral’s daughter. Don’t wanna get myself caught up in all the other drunks shit and give my family a bad rep.’

Ace laughed, taking a large swig of his ale. He looked from his drink, to you, around at the other people, then back to you.

‘But getting caught up in their shit is the most fun, especially when you’re young and without a care in the world.’

‘And if I do have a care in the world?’ You rested your chin on your hand, sighing deeply. ‘I’m not a pirate, Ace. I can’t just do whatever I want.’

His gaze drops and he takes another swig before looking back at you.

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice has lost it’s laughable tone, turning into a more serious one. ‘I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to explain yourself. Especially not to a pirate.’ He nudged you with a slight grin. ‘How about this then? You drink to your hearts content, and I’ll make sure you don’t get caught up in “the drunks shit”. Sound fun?’

You finish your water and shake your head, eyes brows raising momentarily.

‘Mhm. And what? So you can take advantage of an innocent 16 year old?’ You say it with a fake pout and stare at him with a slight squint, trying to see through the facade he’s put up. He just laughs, looking around again before leaning in close.

‘Now let’s be honest for a second here, miss. I am not that much older than you.’

You blush at the close proximity, but swallow it down.

‘Sure.’

He leans back with a smirk, seeing your pink face.

‘One drink then? Please.’

Your hesitancy shows you’re not completely against the request. You lean back in your chair, running your hand through your hair and then over your face with a low groan.

‘One drink. And that’s it.’

The ravenette laughs quietly and nods.

‘Alright, alright. One drink and no more. You have yourself a deal, princess.’

Ace calls the bartender back and you get yourself an ale. At first you take small sips, but as the night continues, you find yourself taking large gulps. Suddenlyone drink turns into 2, and then 2 turns into about 6, and then you find yourself laughing at things no sober person would laugh at.

Ace watches as you knock back each drink, grinning from ear to ear as your laughs fill the bar. Occasionally he’d join in on your laughs, but he’d up kept his original proposal of staying sober while you got drunk. The sun had long gone down and the moon was shining bright in the night sky.

You were laughing at how a random man’s shadow cast in the moonlight when the fatigue hit you like a freight train. In an instant, you felt your whole body turn to jelly and you began falling.

Ace caught you around the waist and hoisted you up to his shoulder without dropping off his own seat. He keeps talking to you, making sure you’re awake and responsive. Not that you’re actually talking back. More just grumbling.

‘Let’s get you home, shall we?’ He asks, paying for your drinks as he practically carries you out of the tavern and down the main street. ‘Not that I exactly know where that is. Can you give me directions if you’re not too drunk?’

‘I’m not drunk.’ You instantly protest.

‘That’s a no, then.’ He laughs, carrying you into a nearby alleyway. ‘Just wait a second while I think of a way to get you home.’

‘But I’m not drunk.’ You whine, nocturnal to what he’s actually saying. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to the bar. I can have one more drink.’ You push off the pirate, trying your best (and failing) to stand up straight. Ace steps towards, holding your forearm gently to keep you stable on your feet. He looks at your eyes and giggles.

‘You’re so cute when you’re all messed up like this.’

‘I’m not drunk or messed up!’ You shout. He laughs again and leans in closer, eyes drawn to your lips momentarily before returning to your eyes.

‘You are, princess. And regardless of whether you want to admit it or not, you’re completely helpless right now- a perfect combination of hot and vulnerable. It’s a shame I can’t do anything without us getting caught…’

He’s teasing, and being as unserious as they come, but you’re just staring at his lips in your drunk-gaze.

‘I really wanna kiss you right now.’ You blurt out. His eyes widen before diverting from yours, a hint of surprise in his action.

‘Say that when you’re sober, princess.’ Without a further arguing, he lifted you off the ground and over his shoulder.

He carried you back to the tavern and laid you down in one of the booths before going to the bartender.

‘Can you please make sure she gets back to wherever she’s meant to be? I don’t really know her other than drinking buddies so I don’t know where she lives.’

‘Well, sure.’ The bartender laughs, cleaning up the last of the mugs. ‘You sir have been drinking with the Vice-Admiral's daughter. They’ve got big hopes for her. Think she'll be a Vice-Admiral when she’s old enough.’

‘Is that so?’ Ace hummed with a smile. He thanked the bartender and left, leaving you sleeping.

tag list: (reply to be added)

© kodydrs

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

[ijustwannabepartofyoursymphonyy]

What 500,000,000 berries buy you

The wanted poster crinkled in your grip as you studied his face for the hundredth time: Trafalgar D. Water Law. 500,000,000 berries. The "Surgeon of Death" himself, with that infamous mocking smirk.

Including you.

You'd been tracking the Heart Pirates for three weeks, island to island, always one step behind. But this time was different. This time, you had him.

The tavern's dim lights cast long shadows across weathered wooden floors. You nursed your drink, eyes fixed on the door while keeping your presence subtle. Your reputation as a bounty hunter preceded you, but Law didn't know your face. That was your advantage.

The door creaked open, and your heart skipped. That spotted hat was unmistakable.

Law walked in, confident and unafraid. His nodachi rested on his shoulder. The legendary "Room" could split you into pieces before you could blink, but you had planned for that. The seastone cuffs hidden in your boot felt heavier than ever.

He sat at the bar, two seats away. Close enough to strike, far enough to react if things went wrong. Your fingers traced the rim of your glass, mind racing through the dozen ways this could play out.

"You've been following us since Saobady," he said, turning his gaze away from you. His voice was deeper than you'd imagined, with an edge of amusement that made your skin prickle.

Your grip tightened on your glass. "That obvious?"

"Only to someone who was watching for it." He turned then, golden eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Though I must admit, most hunters don't make it this far."

"I'm not most hunters."

His lips curved into that same smirk from the wanted poster. "No, you're not. Which makes me wonder why you haven't made your move yet."

You shifted in your seat. Every second could mean the difference between capturing him and ending up in pieces. "Maybe I'm just enjoying the chase."

"Or maybe," he leaned in, "you're realizing that not every pirate deserves to be caught." You could see the dark circles under his eyes."

"Five hundred million berries buys a lot of justice," you said, but the words felt hollow even as they left your mouth.

Law chuckled, a sound that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. "Justice? Is that what you tell yourself when you hand people over to the World Government?"

His words hit harder than they should have. Your years of bounty hunting showed you. The world wasn't as black and white as the Marines painted it.

"Room," he whispered, and the blue sphere expanded around you both before you could react. Your hand flew to your weapon, but he was faster.

"Shambles."

In an instant, you were outside the tavern, pressed against the cold stone wall. Law stood before you, one hand planted beside your head, the other still gripping his nodachi.

"Tell me, hunter," he said, his face inches from yours, "what is justice worth to you?"

Your heart raced, but not from fear. The seastone cuffs felt like lead in your boot, forgotten. In that moment, you realized you'd been hunting the wrong thing. Those calculating eyes made it clear.

"That depends," you breathed, "on what you're offering instead."

His smirk widened, and you knew the hunt was over. But maybe, just maybe, something more interesting was beginning.

"Join my crew," he said, not a question but a challenge. "See what justice really looks like from the other side."

In a port town tavern's shadows, with five hundred million berries slipping away, you made a fateful choice. It would change everything.

Sometimes, the best hunts don't end in capture. They end in a different kind of surrender.

[hannahbarberra162]

Princess Treatment, Part 1 (Benn Beckman x OC, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn)

on Ao3

This is the "someone old" I had in mind for the X Amount of Followers event! You've unlocked Benn Beckman! There will be smut, but not in this chapter.

Thank you to @gouraminnow for helping me brainstorm and beta'ing my work even when I'm whiny.

Summary:

Everyone loves Benn Beckman. The crew, civilians, other pirates, and especially women, all think Benn's the greatest thing since Silvers Rayleigh. Except Anne. She wants to rearrange his face, free of charge, with every condescending smirk he throws her way. She's capable and deadly, she's proven her worth as a member of the Red-Haired pirates. But the first mate is hell bent on testing her patience and her boundaries.

Notes:

Anne is practicing Irish stick fighting, bataireacht.

“See anything you like?” Captain asked suggestively, tipping his head to Anne. She cut her glance from Benn Beckman twirling his finger around the curl of a provocatively dressed woman to the one-armed man by her side. She and her Captain were sitting with their legs up on a round table at some shitty dive bar on a winter island. It was summer, so the weather was nearly perfect; she could wear her leather boots, worn jeans, and her cut off t-shirt and feel perfectly comfortable.

“Unfortunately, I’m not into women. It’s my curse to bear,” Anne said as she took another swig of her ale, turning away from the scene in front of her. 

“I wasn’t talking about the woman,” Shanks replied, smirking. Anne rolled her eyes, wondering if she should punch her Captain verbally or physically. She didn’t want to spill their drinks, so she decided to use her words.

“Oi, watch what you say. Or I’ll tell a certain Marine Hunter how much time it takes you to achieve that ‘effortless’ messy hairstyle.” Anne didn’t like people prying into her business, especially red headed busybodies who thought they knew better than everyone else. Besides, she didn’t know what Shanks was talking about. She and Beckman had a…contentious relationship at best. She didn’t know what it was, but everything about him set her teeth on edge. Everyone else loved the first mate, thought he was so composed and collected. Every island they went to, every other crew they met with, every goddamn person thought Benn was so amazing, and it drove Anne up the wall.

Sure, she had eyes, Anne knew Beckman was objectively handsome. But his good looks came with an irritating nature, an arrogant attitude, a cocky smile and the overall condescending tone of a complete ass. Benn acted like he knew better than everyone at all times, including their Captain. Which, to be fair, he did know better than the Captain most of the time. But so did everyone, it didn’t make him special. 

No, Anne did not like Benn Beckman, and not just because of his self satisfied attitude. He went out of his way to irritate and annoy her, unlike any of the other Red Haired Pirates. Anne was the only woman on board, but no one else brought it up regularly. The guys seemed to forget she was a woman most of the time, only remembering when they saw her in her sports bra. Sure, there were grumbles that she was the only crewmate besides the Captain who got their own room, but that was about it. Anne had suggested cutting their dicks off to become her roommate, but no one took her up on the offer. Aside from that, Anne was no different than anyone else on the crew. She was strong, tall, capable, and deadly. 

Beckman, however, always went out of his way to bother her. It didn’t help that Anne had a short fuse around him and Beckman was always lighting a match. He called her Princess or Sweetheart or Doll instead of her name. He would take heavy crates out of her hands without asking, hefting them up onto his shoulder with a lopsided grin. He’d say “ladies first,” when the crew was headed inside a tavern, insisting on holding the door open for her. It made Anne see red and want to bash his face in with her club. Multiple times. 

That was another thing that irritated Anne about Benn. He was one of the few people able to get a rise out of her. Anne prided herself on her collected nature, never rising to take the bait, always keeping her wits about her. Sure, if provoked she’d break your face (or clavicle, or arm, or femur) with her club, but Anne preferred to live and let live. The rowdy parties, hostile civilians, things that needed repairs on the ship - Anne didn’t let any of it bother her. Life was too short to be angry about every small detail.

Except when it came to Benn Beckman. 

“Oi. Call me Anne, not Princess,” she demanded one night over dinner. She tried to keep her tone neutral and not show her anger - that would only backfire. He’d called her Princess all day as she worked the rigging, enraging her every time he did it. By the end of the day she’d nearly strangled him with the ropes rather than adjusting the sails.

“Whatever you say, Sweetcheeks,” Benn replied with a lazy smile, leaning back to swig his ale. Anne stabbed her fork into the table as she stood up,  flipping her chair backwards in her haste to get away before she stabbed the first mate instead. Stomping away, she heard the deep rumble of Beckman’s laugh, which only served to infuriate her further. 

Anne wasn’t upset by her gender, quite the opposite. Anne was proud to be a woman, and wouldn’t change it for anything. She wasn’t soft and curvy like the women they saw on most islands, and that was OK. Anne was tall, buff, and sported a permanent bitch face that belied her generally calm demeanor. Anne liked her hair short, her clothes masculine, and her body unshaven. Her haircut matched that of her Captain, since she cut both of their hair. But instead of red, hers was a deep dark brown, a few more gray hairs coming in annually. Freckles littered her face, shoulders, chest and back, their number growing every year spent on the sea. She was well muscled but lithe, her muscles aiding her ability to move quickly during skirmishes. As a child, Anne had been teased for her lack of femininity, called a tomboy and other names aimed to hurt her feelings. Anne quickly learned how to deal with such situations - namely, with violence. Anne discovered that once she’d broken enough noses and arms, people stopped making fun of her. 

She’d found her place on the Red Haired Pirates after accidentally catching their Captain in an animal trap. Anne had been checking her traps for food when she came across a red haired man in one of her trapping pits. 

“Stay, Hobbes,” Anne said, hopping off the back of her tiger and patting its velvety head.

“Oi, help me outta here,” the man said pitifully as he sat in the shade of the pit. Looking him over, Anne thought she recognized him from the wanted posters in town. 

“Aren’t you that Emperor?” Anne said, crossing her arms. 

“Yeah, Red Haired Shanks. Lemme outta here, I’m too hungover for this shit,” he whined. Anne was taken aback - she hadn’t expected one of the four Emperors of the Seas to be so…casual.

“No. Find your own way out.” Anne said, starting to mount her tiger again. Shanks’s mouth hung open in shock. If he was an Emperor, surely he’d be able to extricate himself. 

“That’s not nice, I only have one arm!” He exclaimed, his mouth forming a pout. 

“Never said I was nice,” Anne said while shrugging her shoulders, already on the back of her tiger as it sauntered away. 

And the rest was history. Shanks did eventually get out of the pit, though Anne never found out exactly how. He’d followed the path she’d set out on back to her hut and stumbled upon her practicing her bataireacht . The Captain sparred with Anne for a few minutes, then invited himself into her hut for a drink of her alcohol. A few hours later Anne had agreed to join Shanks’s crew. She had a few years of sailing experience, a lot of years of kicking ass experience, and even more years of drinking experience, all of which were needed to be a Red Haired Pirate. She’d brought her few things back with her, said brief goodbyes and set sail on the Red Force. 

The crew was nice enough, she met the doctor, who gave her a basic physical and wasn’t weird about it. Limejuice was an early favorite, the two quickly bonding over their shared love of staff fighting. Anne was also drawn to Monster and had to restrain herself from scratching him behind the ears at their first meeting. In fact, she found the crew rather pleasant and enjoyable enough. They were all around her age, a well settled crew, which made for a more relaxing journey on the sea. Unfortunately, she met the first mate after she joined, otherwise she would have declined. Their first meeting left a lot to be desired and set the tone for the rest of their interactions.

“What’s yer weapon of choice?” Benn asked as his introduction, eyeing the new recruit up and down, taking a drag of his cigarette. He had come up and leaned on her shoulder with his arm. Anne shoved it off of her like it burned.

“Don’t touch me. Club,” Anne replied tersely, pointing to the club strapped to her back. In truth, it was a shillelagh, but most people didn't know what that was.

“Do ye mean ‘staff?” Benn asked with a smirk. Anne ground her teeth together.

“If I meant ‘staff,’ I would have said ‘staff.’ I said ‘club,” Anne bit out. 

“Hmm. Staff might be better,” he said, blowing smoke in her face. Anne narrowed her eyes.

“Didn’t ask for your opinion. Don’t want it, either.” 

“Clubs break,” Benn said with a smug grin.

“So do bones,” Anne replied, baring her teeth, and turned on her heel to end the discussion. She was done with this conversation and this god awful man. Many people had underestimated her and her shillelagh fighting over the years. Most only did it once. 

“You’ve been ‘will-they-won’t-they’ for years with Beckman,” Shanks teased, crossing his feet at the ankles, taking a deep pull from his ale.

“Do you mean ‘will I kill him today or won’t I’? That’s about all it’s been between us. Sorry, Cap. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him. And that’s not going to change any time soon.”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure. If you get married, make sure I’m invited to the wedding,” Shanks said, smacking Anne on the back.

“If we get married, you can officiate,” Anne snorted, draining the last of her glass. “Gonna get another brew and take a piss, see ya.” Anne pushed off the table with her feet and stood up, sheathing her stick behind her back and bringing her glass with her. Truthfully, she just didn’t want to continue this conversation with her Captain. He was relentless, especially when he thought he was right. Leaving her glass on the counter of the bar, Anne went out into the alley behind the building for a breath of air and maybe to bum a cigarette. She always wanted one when she started drinking and tonight was no exception.

Leaning against a wall, she spotted a group of three men chatting and smoking and walked up to them with her friendliest smile. Anne had been told it wasn’t that friendly but it was what she had.

“Hey, guys, can I bum a smoke?” she asked cordially. One of the men gave her a passing glance up and down before replying. He had a scar down the side of his face, black stubble on his cheeks matching the short black hair on his head and was missing the last two fingers on his left hand. Anne had slept with worse, she thought.

“Sure thing, Sugar,” he said, extending a hand with an open pack of cigarettes. Anne didn’t bother saying anything about the pet name. She’d never see these fucks again in her life, it wasn’t worth her breath.

“Thanks, bud,” she replied, placing the butt in her mouth. Before she could even ask for a light, the man lit a match and extended it towards her. Anne widened her smile, sometimes she didn’t mind princess treatment.

“So what crew’re you on, baby? Some kinda merchant ship?” the man asked, leaning in further.

“Red Haired Pirates,” Anne answered after taking a deep drag of the cigarette. The men laughed like she told a joke. Anne’s friendly smile disappeared. 

“Something funny?” she asked, fingers already twitching. 

“Nah, Doll, c’mon, don’t play games” the man said with a laugh, stepping closer and leaning on the wall nearest Anne. She just rolled her eyes. Anne was used to this reaction, it didn’t really bother her over much. So what if some dipshit didn’t think she was on the crew?

“No games, but here’s a prize,” a deep voice growled out, flinging a lit cigarette at the man’s eye.

“Goddammit!”

“Goddammit!” Both Anne and the man yelled out simultaneously at the same man. “What the fuck, Beckman?” Anne yelled, whirling around to face the first mate. Beckman was about a meter behind her, shrouded in the shadows of the alley. “You think I couldn’t handle this alone? Some fucking drunk assholes? Fucking piss off!” Anne yelled, already angry. She knew Benn wouldn’t do this for any of the other crew members. It showed that he thought she was weak, that she couldn’t handle herself even though she’d fought side by side with the crew hundreds of times. Her armament and observation haki was as good as anyone else’s on the crew, she didn’t need help. She didn’t need someone to protect her, she didn’t need a babysitter and she sure as shit didn’t need Beckman. Cigarette break ruined, Anne crushed the rest of her cigarette under the sole of her boot and pushed past Beckman.

“Go back to your ladies inside the bar, I’m sure they miss you,” Anne spat behind her as she left. “I sure as shit don’t,” she muttered under her breath, throwing open the door to the bar.

A few days later and the Red Force was slicing through the sea once more to Anne’s delight. The sun was setting, painting the sky in purples and oranges as sweet as sherbert. It was her favorite time of day, the peaceful calm of the evening settling in her bones before the chill of the night came. Anne enjoyed her cup of herbal tea, watching the sunset from the crow’s nest as was her daily habit when the ship was sailing. In a few moments, she’d go spar with some of the crew or train alone, but the sunset was a moment of respite in a chaotic world. She worked as a rigger on the ship under Building Snake, which was a difficult but rewarding job. She’d always liked sailing, even before she’d made her career as a pirate. And watching the sun sink low in the sky was one of the rewards she got to enjoy.

“Oi, Princess, let down your hair,” Anne heard from below. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to regain the sense of awe and wonder she had moments ago. Only one voice could have her go from zen to burning anger in six words. Anne chose not to answer, breathing deeply instead.

Beckman POV

Anne didn’t respond to his call, but her silence was enough to know he’d hit his mark. He could practically see Anne’s eye twitching as he teased her from the deck. If he riled her up enough, she’d spar with him, which was a combination of his two favorite things. Benn and Anne sparred frequently, their verbal jabs often turning into physical fighting. Anne would seldom agree to spar with him outright, he usually had to get her irritated before she’d even think about it. But she was Benn’s favorite sparring partner of the crew. Not just because he got to enjoy the jiggling of her small tits under her shirt, or feel the warmth of her sun kissed skin under his own, though that certainly didn’t hurt. 

Anne had a very different fighting style than his own - her style relied on quick, fluid movement and precision whereas his was more direct, focusing on power and force. She was nearly impossible to pin down, trying to keep her under him was like trying to capture water in your hand. One moment he’d have her on the deck, held in place under his arms and the next she’d be sitting on his chest, her fighting stick about to break his nose. She was wild, unpredictable, and powerful, all things Beckman found incredibly attractive. But she needed more training - to reign herself in and channel her emotions - and Benn had given the task to himself. 

He’d been interested in Anne from the first moment he saw her approaching the ship with the Captain. Shanks tended to recruit whoever he “vibed” with, something that Benn had long given up arguing over. Most recruits didn’t make it past a week or two, but Anne had fit in easily, able to hold her own on the ship and on the battlefield. He’d given her grief over her fighting stick but he had no doubts after he saw her in action. She was strong and capable and Benn wanted to train her to be even better. 

Once in battle, she’d been cornered against the bow, three Marines approaching with guns drawn. Anne had looked bored, Beckman later realized. He’d been coming to enter the fray and help her only to realize she didn’t need it. He watched her coat her stick in haki and quickly break the clavicle of the closest Marine, throw him into the two others, shatter the femur of the second and crack the head of the third. All in a matter of seconds. She wasn’t even breathing hard as she stepped heavily on the skull of the Marine on her way to aid her crew mates. Beckman knew he was hooked on her as soon as the blood started to coat the deck.

Sure, Anne was different from the women Beckman usually went after on islands. He was known to favor short, soft, feminine women, women who purred and begged him to take them to bed. Women who spent their money and time on ways to make themselves look better, smell better, and feel better when he finally carried them giggling to his cabin. And he appreciated all of those women, the effort they put into the way they looked did not go unnoticed. So even though Anne did none of those things, he liked her just as much - maybe even more. 

Benn didn’t know why he was compelled to tease her so much - he felt like he was pulling her pigtails on the playground. He loved winding her up until she snapped at him, getting a rise out of her was second nature to him. She didn’t give that energy to anyone else - not even foolishness from the Captain could get her riled. But one glance from Beckman and the smoke was already coming out of her ears, her fingers reaching for her club. And he absolutely loved it. He knew it wasn’t in his best interest if he wanted to seduce her, but he couldn’t resist teasing her as much as she couldn’t resist responding. 

“Oi, you deaf now?” Beckman asked, lighting another cigarette. In his mind, he counted down from five. By the time he got to one, he had to dodge Anne’s kick aimed at his head. Benn smiled. She got him on the rebound, kicking his lit cigarette to the ground. The crew had already started to gather to watch them fight.

Anne POV

Benn was the most infuriating man on the seas, she was sure of it. He was stronger than Anne, but she was faster. No matter how many times she thought she had the advantage, she was never able to keep it. Worst of all, every time he pinned her, he gave her the goddamn smirk. Anne would never tell him but she had improved after sparring with Beckman near daily. She’d gotten sharper, striking with more accuracy and even faster than before. But she’d rather smell Shanks’s stump than ever admit it. 

“Better luck next time, Princess,” Beckman drawled at her, both arms pinned above her head. Anne grunted and used her foot to kick Beckman’s neck, earning her freedom. The crew whooped for her, as they always did. They had a betting pool going on when she’d finally beat his ass, with the times ranging from next month to never.

“No next time, Beckman,” she grunted, rolling on top of him. Sweat was dripping down her neck and chest, she could feel it pooling in her bra. She aimed to elbow his stupid fucking face but was pushed backwards as Benn grappled his way back on top of her, pinning her legs under his own. 

“Always a next time, Sweetheart, you need me. You’re not gonna get better without my help,” he said, blocking her strike to his throat. Anne wanted to rip it out with her teeth, though she’d tried before and ended up with Beckman’s thick fingers in her mouth, holding her jaw open.

“Don’t need you or your fucking help!” Anne bellowed, trapped again beneath the First mate.

“Says the Dame who can’t get away,” Benn replied easily, tightening his hold on her. She was twisted like a pretzel, him holding her arms in place across her chest with one immovable hand, her legs spread between his and trapped under his heavy body. Anne wiggled and tested for weakness, but he had her caged.

“Get a room!” Shanks yelled from his cabin, watching with amusement. Anne turned bright red, from her cheeks down to her chest as she realized the somewhat lewd manner the position could be construed. The gathered crew laughed and dispersed, their daily fight over and Anne no closer to beating Beckman than she was before.

“Let me go, you won,” Anne hissed through her teeth. Benn made no movement to release her.

“Always do,” Benn replied, watching the sweat trickle down her chest. Anne was still blushing furiously and it wasn’t receding as long as Benn stayed on top of her.

“Get. Off.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Beckman said, pinching the apple of Anne’s cheek between his fingers before hauling himself off her. Benn didn’t need to wonder how he was going to die, Anne thought, one day she was going to kill him.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Violence, Blood.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Shanks grips the railing of the Red Force, his knuckles white. The wind whips through his hair, but the usual thrill of sailing is absent. His crew moves with a sense of urgency, each member aware of the stakes. They’ve lost sight of the marine ship, and every second you and Yumi are in Collins' hands feels like an eternity.

Benn approaches, his face set in a grim line. "We've got word from the villagers. They say the ship headed southeast, towards Blackthorn Island."

Shanks narrows his eyes at the horizon. "Then we head southeast." His voice is cold, clipped. There’s no room for error. Not now.

Benn nods, understanding the gravity of Shanks' mood. He barks orders to the crew, and they scramble to adjust the sails and course. The ship tilts as it veers in the new direction, cutting through the waves with purpose.

Every muscle in Shanks' body is tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. He can’t shake the image of your face from his mind—the way your eyes sparkled with defiance and determination. You had your arguments, your tensions about your future, now you were gone and heading toward the hands of the one man Shanks swore to protect you from.

Damn you, Collins.

He slams his fist against the wooden railing, feeling a mix of anger and helplessness wash over him. The commodore had always been a shadow lurking since he had thrown you over his shoulder and sailed off with you, but now he was a tangible threat. Shanks could handle threats to himself; he’d faced countless dangers in his life as a pirate. But this was different. This is personal.

"Captain," Yasopp calls out from above in the crow’s nest. "Still no sight of them."

Shanks grits his teeth. "Keep looking."

His mind races with possibilities—none of them good. Collins knew about you and him now; there’s no telling what kind of revenge he might seek. Shanks' heart aches at the thought of you in pain or scared because he couldn’t protect you. At least Collins wanted, needed, you alive and well.

"We'll find her," Benn says quietly beside him, sensing his turmoil.

"We have to," Shanks replies, his voice barely more than a growl. "I won't let that bastard lay another finger on her."

The sea stretches out before them, vast and unforgiving. But Shanks is undeterred. He would scour every inch of it if that’s what it took to bring you back safely. He had a promise to keep.

Shanks' jaw tightens as he paces the deck, each step a battle to keep his anger in check. The crew works with an intensity that matches his mood, their loyalty and concern for their captain palpable in every movement. He pauses by the helm, his eyes scanning the horizon, willing the marine ship to appear.

"Captain," Yasopp calls down again, his voice carrying a note of urgency. "There's several ships on the horizon, bearing southeast."

Shanks’ heart leaps into his throat. "Full speed ahead," he orders, his voice firm and resolute.

The Red Force surges forward, the sails straining against the wind. Shanks grips the railing again, his eyes never leaving the distant speck that could be your salvation. His thoughts churn like the ocean beneath him. He remembers your laughter from that night in the tavern, your stubborn determination during your arguments. The explosive sex afterwards that left you both craving each others touches, kisses. Each memory fuels his resolve.

Pain radiates through your abdomen, a relentless cramping that leaves you gasping for breath. You curl on the thin mattress, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Each movement sends fresh waves of discomfort coursing through you, accompanied by the disconcerting sensation of fluid and blood seeping from between your legs.

Yumi had departed from your side, fearful of causing you further pain in her desire for comfort. You've tried to coax her back into your arms, but the bludgeoning pain that comes and goes cripples you. You hear a door creak open, and instinctively, you tense up, expecting more harsh treatment. But instead, a soft voice cuts through the haze of pain.

"Lady Bonn, we're here to help you."

You turn your head slightly to see two female marines approaching. Their expressions are gentle, their steps cautious. One of them kneels beside you, her eyes filled with concern.

"Let's get you cleaned up," she says softly.

The other marine moves to gather supplies—a basin of warm water, clean cloths, and fresh clothes. They work in unison, their movements practiced and efficient but not rushed. You sense no malice in them, only a desire to help.

As they begin to bathe you, their touch is careful and respectful. The warm water soothes some of the discomfort, washing away the grime and blood. You wince as they clean around the tender areas, but they are quick to murmur apologies and reassurance.

"It's going to be alright," one whispers, her voice soothing your frayed nerves.

In the corner of the room, Yumi watches with wide eyes, her small hands clutched together in worry.

"Is she going to be okay?" Yumi’s voice wavers with fear. "

One of the marines glances over her shoulder at Yumi and offers a comforting smile. "She’ll be alright. We’re taking good care of her."

You want to reassure Yumi yourself, but the pain makes it hard to form words. Instead, you manage a weak smile in her direction. The effort exhausts you, but it's worth it when you see some of the tension leave Yumi’s face.

The female marines finish bathing you and help you into a dress much like ones your mother used to dress you in. Expensive. Over the top at times. Out of place. But it's clean and dry—such a stark contrast to everything else you've endured lately that you don't bother to resist.

One marine gently brushes out your hair while the other fusses with the strings of your corset. You could feel their disapproval of the dress of choice but no doubt they were not the ones to have chosen such a garment. Their kindness is almost overwhelming after so much fear and pain. You close your eyes briefly, grateful for this small mercy in the midst of chaos.

Yumi inches closer once they're done, her little hand reaching for yours. You squeeze it lightly, drawing strength from her presence even as fatigue pulls at your consciousness.

"I suppose I should expect a visit from the Commodore?" You broach, your throat scratchy.

The marine with the brush pauses, her eyes meeting yours. "Yes," she says quietly, her voice laced with regret. "His ship is joining ours shortly."

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of facing Commodore Collins again. The memory of his cold, calculating eyes makes your stomach churn, but you push it aside. You have to stay strong for Yumi, for yourself. You are not the girl that had fled Bonn Manor, but a woman stronger than she thinks.

The female marines bring in trays laden with simple but nourishing food—slices of bread, cheese, and bowls of steaming broth. The aroma fills the small room, and despite the discomfort from your dress and the cramps still gnawing at your insides, you can’t help but appreciate the gesture. Not all marine’s are bad.

They set the trays on a small table near the bed. One of them gently helps you to your feet and guides you to the table. Each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through your abdomen, but you grit your teeth and endure it. Yumi follows closely behind, her eyes darting nervously between you and the food.

“Sit,” one marine says softly, pulling out a chair for you. You lower yourself onto it, trying to ignore how the corset digs into your ribs. The other marine places a small bowl of broth in front of you, but even the sight of it makes your stomach churn with nausea.

You glance at Yumi, who stands hesitantly by the table. “Eat, Yumi,” you urge her gently, managing a weak smile despite your discomfort. “You need your strength.”

Yumi’s eyes flicker with uncertainty before she climbs onto the chair opposite you. She takes a tentative sip of her broth, then another. You watch her eat with a sense of relief mingled with guilt—relief that she’s eating and guilt that you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

The cramps worsen, each wave of pain making it harder to focus on anything else. You rest a hand on your abdomen, trying to soothe the ache even though you know it’s futile. The other hand grips the edge of the table for support as nausea rolls through you in waves.

One of the marines notices your struggle and steps closer. “Do you need anything?” she asks quietly.

You shake your head slightly. “Just...watch over Yumi,” you murmur, closing your eyes briefly against another surge of pain. "Especially when I cannot."

The marine nods.

You sit on the edge of the bed, holding a worn storybook one of the female Marine's was kind enough to lend. The words swim in front of your eyes as you read aloud, each syllable a distraction from the pain clawing at your insides. Yumi’s small frame is pressed against your side, her wide eyes fixed on the pages.

“…and the brave knight saved the kingdom from the fearsome dragon,” you read, your voice steady despite the turmoil within you. Yumi’s hand tightens around yours, drawing comfort from your presence.

The door to the small room almost bangs open, and your heart skips a beat. Commodore Collins strides in, his presence sucking the air from the space. He’s still as imposing as ever, his uniform pristine, his eyes cold and calculating. You instinctively pull Yumi closer to you.

“Leave us,” he orders, his voice a chilling command.

The female marines exchange hesitant glances but comply, ushering Yumi towards the door. She clings to you, her small hands trembling.

“It’s okay, Yumi,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ll be fine.”

Yumi’s eyes fill with tears, but she allows herself to be led out of the room. The door closes behind her with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. You’re alone with him now.

Collins’ gaze sweeps over you, taking in every detail—the disheveled hair, the ill-fitting dress, the pain etched on your face. A cruel smile tugs at his lips as he steps closer.

“Linaria,” he says softly, almost mockingly. “My betrothed. You look a mess dear.”

You stiffen at his words, every muscle in your body tensing. “I am not yours,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, a low, menacing sound that makes your skin crawl. “Oh, but you are,” he says, leaning down so his face is inches from yours. “You see, I have a contract. And you have obligations.”

You meet Collins’ gaze, refusing to show the fear gnawing at your insides.

"No," you say in a soft tone. He leans back slightly, his eyes cold and calculating as they sweep over you.

“Running away from your responsibilities, Linaria? How very noble of you,” he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And to think, all this time you’ve been hiding with that filthy pirate scum.”

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms. The urge to lash out is almost overwhelming, but you force yourself to stay calm. “You aren't even a quarter of the man Shanks is,” you retort, your voice steady despite the tremor in your heart.

Collins’ eyes darken, his cruel smile widening. “Is that so?” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You’ve become quite the defiant little thing, haven’t you?”

You lift your chin, defiance sparking in your eyes. “I’d rather be with a pirate than with a monster like you,” you spit out, your words laced with venom.

His expression shifts, the smile disappearing. He steps closer, his presence looming over you. “Watch your tongue,” he snarls, his voice icy. “Or do I need to remind you of your place?”

You don’t back down, meeting his gaze head-on. “My place is anywhere but by your side,” you retort, your voice unwavering. “You’re nothing but a—”

The slap comes out of nowhere, the force of it whipping your head to the side. Pain explodes across your cheek, and you taste blood as one of his rings cuts into your lip. You gasp, the metallic tang filling your mouth. One of your precious ruby earrings falls to the ground with a small clink.

Collins grabs the necklace around your neck and yanks it hard, the chain snapping and leaving a stinging sensation on your skin. You cry from the pain of the chain digging into your neck, but also that he is touching something so precious to you. He holds it up in front of you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction before pocketing it.

“You think you can defy me and get away with it?” he growls, his face inches from yours. His breath is hot and rancid against your skin.

Your hand instinctively goes to your cheek, feeling the warmth of fresh blood on your fingertips. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you force yourself to meet his gaze again.

“You can’t control me,” you manage to say through the pain and blood.

His expression hardens further. With deliberate slowness, he lifts his boot and crushes the fallen earring beneath it, grinding it into the floorboards until it's nothing but shattered metal and gem.

Blood trickles down your chin, and you can taste its metallic tang. Collins leans in close, his voice a chilling whisper.

“I’m glad that pirate’s brat is out of your belly,” he sneers. “Soon enough, my child will be there instead.”

His words send a wave of nausea through you, but you force yourself to stay still, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. He stands up straight, his eyes cold and calculating as they sweep over you one last time before he turns and strides out of the room, the door closing behind him with a finality that leaves you feeling trapped.

For a moment, you just sit there, trying to catch your breath and steady the pounding of your heart. The pain in your cheek and lip is sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your soul. Slowly, you turn your head and look at the shattered remains of your earring on the floor.

You reach out with trembling fingers and pick up the small red ruby, the only piece that survived Collins’ cruel assault. The metal is crushed beyond recognition, but the ruby itself is intact, it's twin still dangling from your ear.

You tuck the small red ruby into your dress pocket, the last remnant of your shattered earring. Metal can be crushed, but the gem still remains. The door creaks open, and Yumi rushes in, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

"Aria!" she cries out, her small hands reaching for you. Her gaze zeroes in on your split lip, and tears well up in her eyes. "What happened?"

You force a smile, wincing at the pain it causes. "I'm okay, Yumi," you say softly, trying to soothe her. "Just a little accident."

She doesn't look convinced. Her fingers brush lightly against your cheek, where the blood has dried. "You're hurt," she whispers, her voice trembling.

You pull her into a gentle hug, despite the pain it causes your abdomen. "I'll be fine," you murmur into her hair. "It's just a scratch."

But inside, you're mourning more than just the physical pain. You mourn the loss of the ruby necklace that Shanks had given you, a symbol of his care and affection. The necklace that Collins had so cruelly torn from your neck now feels like a gaping wound in your heart.

You finger the lone earring still hanging from your ear. It feels like a piece of Shanks is still with you, but it's a small comfort compared to the overwhelming sense of loss.

Yumi pulls back slightly to look at you, her eyes searching your face for reassurance. "Will Shanks really come for us?" she asks in a small voice.

Your heart aches at her question. You want to promise her that he will, that everything will be alright, but you can't bring yourself to make such a promise when you're not sure of anything anymore. You feel so defeated

"I hope so," you say instead, your voice barely above a whisper.

Yumi nods, as if accepting this uncertain hope as enough for now. She nestles closer to you, seeking comfort in your presence even as you draw strength from hers.

With every heartbeat, you hold onto the hope that Shanks will come for you both. And until then, you'll keep fighting—if not for yourself, then for Yumi.

Date Published: 7/15/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[honeyoru]

When the Stars Rise Chap. 1

Roronoa Zoro x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader & Vinsmoke Sanji x Female! Devil fruit user! Princess! Reader (we've got a love triangle ow ow)

Warnings: none for this chapter

Series Masterlist

A/N: And into the rabbit hole we go, thanks for reading!

The gold-plated pocket watch ticked aimlessly, mocking you. 

Sighing, you placed it back inside your coat and lazily held a bottle of rum, refraining from bouncing your leg at your secluded table in the back of the Kingdom’s biggest tavern. It was a rowdy establishment, full of laughter and comradery amongst both citizens and visitors alike. 

You adjusted the hood on your head again, grateful it hid your face in the dimly lit space. However, it did little to quell your nerves that someone would recognize you. Visiting crowded places when you had such a high-stakes mission made you nervous, especially in such a popular spot like this one. 

Any local would know who you were instantly.

Your eyes were fixated on a rather tall guy who just screamed pirate. He stood at the bar, loudly sharing stories with a group of older, weathered-looking men. They weren’t subtle with their irritation, taking long pulls of rum in between eye rolls as he regaled them about the time he had fought a Devil Fruit user and lived. 

Moonbeam Kingdom had seas on all sides, open for passing ships to stop for supplies or to take an extended vacation; the tropical landscape and friendly people made for an excellent place to rest. 

It was monitored by visiting Marines only occasionally due to their deal with the King, making it a prime stopping point for pirates as well. 

Taking a long pull from your bottle, you nonchalantly looked around the raucous room, recognizing several pirates from their wanted papers that were plastered on the Marine-mandatory bulletin outside. Not that anyone paid attention to it, of course. 

You squinted at the man again, recalling the exact words your father had used to describe him.

Tall. Check.

Blue hair. You could see the slight shimmer of the hue reflecting off of the lanterns on the bar.  

A large tattoo on the right arm; a hissing black cat. Bared teeth peeked out from his tattered shirt. Bingo.

He was leaning towards the bartender, a withered old lady you’d known your entire life, bragging about his most recent conquest. The low light of the tavern made it hard to be certain, but she spared a glance to you in between polishing glasses, offering a sly nod to you that he was, indeed, the one who you had been waiting for. The hard set of her jaw made it clear what she thought of the story he was telling. 

You allowed the hint of a smile to grace your face, raising your bottle to finish the drink. 

“You want me to bring him back here…alive?” you had asked in disbelief when your father first told you of your mission over breakfast.  “He’s just a low-level pirate. Why bother?” 

“He is not welcome in this kingdom,” your father spat. It wasn’t often a person like him caught his attention, let alone someone that far down in the ranks of a pirate crew. “I’ve received word that the Black Cat Pirates attacked someone very dear to your mother.”

You raised your eyebrows.  Not many people alive were left whom she cared for, only your family and what remained of hers back in her home village. And considering you hadn’t heard of any Black Cat Pirates arriving in Moonbeam before now…  “Not in the kingdom, then?” 

“No,” a spoon smacked against the table, his hand curling into a fist. “They visited the Gecko Islands.”

An exhale was all you could reply, knowing it was a sore spot. You hadn’t heard anything about them in years since her sister had passed.

“He’s been bragging about killing a girl,” your father continued with a growl, making your heart lurch. There was only one person who that could be. “Saying his crew could do it here too, if they wanted.” 

All at once your eyes darkened. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already been killed, then.” Moonbeam might be known for its peaceful citizens, but no one who made threats like that left the kingdom alive. 

“I know.” He looked up from the table, taking a careful bite of his oats. The smile he wore made a shiver go down your spine. “Aren’t we lucky?” 

You knew how deeply your father’s devotion to your mother ran. He would burn entire kingdoms to the ground if she asked for it. 

If it weren’t for what he just said, you would’ve pitied the night the pirate was about to have. 

“Make sure you keep that mask on this time,” he nagged in an almost affectionate tone. “And your gloves. Calcifer tells me the Marines are scrambling to put a bounty on your head ever since that lovely little meeting you had with those officers last week,” he gave you a sharp glance. “Luckily, they were too drunk to remember what you looked like,” you rolled your eyes. “Or what you did.”

You scoffed, fingers twitching at the memory. “I should’ve just killed them.”

He waved you off. “Too many Marines, it would have been suspicious.” Another look was thrown your way as you stood up to leave. “Keep everything on,” he added. “We don’t need anyone recognizing you.”

Your exit was deterred by a final call of your name. “Do try your best not to break any nails when retrieving him,” he drawled with a smirk. “Your sister’s ball is tomorrow. I’d like there to be no inquiries on what the oldest princess of Moonbeam does in her free time if I can help it.”

You set the bottle back on the table, tugging the mask down and making your way towards the bar with a stifled groan, hoping you’d at least be able to sleep in tomorrow.

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

taglist: @hearts4zoro

[hahaifolded]

The Siren, the Cook, and the Sister (2)

Sanji x PirateHunter!FemReader (Masterlist) Chapter 2: Remember Me (Previous) (Next) Summary: You reconnect with an old friend much to the dismay of a certain cook. Warnings: WCI Spoilers, Sanji being Sanji

“And your total is 30,500 berries,” said the tavern owner, handing the bill to a shocked Nami. “Let me take these plates real quick, and I’ll be right back.” 

As the tavern owner went to the back, Nami harshly whispered, “What are we going to do? We don’t have enough money for this and the Sunny’s supplies.”

Usopp grabbed the bill from the navigator. “There’s only one thing we can do.” He ripped up the bill, jumped up, and yelled, “RUN!” Everyone else stood up, ready to book it out of the tavern.

However, before they could slip out, the doors swung open once more, revealing a dripping dark figure.

You had returned.

No way these guys were trying to dine and dash, you thought with amusement. Much to the Strawhats dismay, you and a white bag blocked the exit. You didn’t think you would see Robin and the Strawhats after cashing out on your most recent bounty. Maybe it was your lucky day after all.

Before anyone could say anything, the tavern owner returned, shocked to see unpaid customers near an exit. “Were you guys trying to leave without paying?” rightfully accused the woman. The crew turned red, gasping for an answer. 

Realizing this was your chance to really talk to Robin, you decided to help the crew out. You activated your mask and replied, “No, of course not. They just came to greet me.” Your robotic voice caught the tavern owner’s attention. You gently placed your gloved hand over Usopp’s shoulder to hold him in place. He jolted, shivering under your grip.

“Besides, I got their bill.” All of the Strawhat’s eyes widened. You dug into your bag, grabbing the necessary bills plus more to cover the crew’s bill. Pleased by the payment, the tavern owner set off to clean, leaving you with the Strawhats.

“Thanks dude! Really appreciate it” beamed Luffy, patting you on the back, still unaffected by everything. It was evident that the captain was excited to see you again. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the crew.

Aware of the tension, you smoothed out your cloak, thinking, okay, this is my chance. Play it cool. You cleared your throat and called out Robin’s name, trying to get her attention. She turned, but, before she could respond, a certain gentleman spoke up.

“Really, thank you… but if you don’t mind me asking, why exactly did you pay off our bill?” questioned Sanji. Your question earlier about Robin and now your random act of generosity made the cook uneasy. He couldn’t figure out what were your exact intentions. Any normal pirate hunter wouldn't go through all this effort to catch a bounty.

“It’s the least I can do for an old friend and her crew,” you said, quickly nodding at Robin. You knew that the cook didn’t trust you, a sentiment you completely reciprocated. However, you weren't going to let his uneasiness deter you from talking to Robin.

Wanting to ease the tension in the room, you shifted topics. “Besides, I think I have a couple of berries I can spare at the moment,” you joked, tapping the bag.

Nami’s eyes widened as she recognized the Marine logo on it. Dollar signs replaced her pupils. (Chopper jumped up to study the change.) “Are there really 300 million berries in that bag?” she uttered, reaching for the bag.

“More like 320 million berries, but yes,” you answered. You slowly moved the bag away from the girl, nervous that she was going to bite your hand off. You turned towards Robin once more, working up the nerve to talk to her. But, before you could act on your thoughts, Sanji cleared his throat. It just had to be him, didn't it?

Sanji continued, “again, why we appreciate your generosity, I think we all deserve a further explanation on this so-called 'friendship' between yourself and our dear Robin. So tell us, how do you know her?” You could feel the cook’s trepidation towards you. He looked at you with disdain. That absolutely enraged you. Although you understood his concern, he had absolutely no right in getting in your goal of talking to Robin and Robin only. It really is in their blood to make my life harder.

“Look, Vinsmoke, there’s no we here so why don’t you back—,”

“You referred to me by my…” interrupted Robin. She paused, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t send her to a spiral. “…alias in Baroque Works. Why?”

Your robotic voice answered. “That’s the name you used when we met.”

Zoro, familiar with the organization’s interest in pirate hunters, asked if you were a part of it. “Fuck no,” you growled, “Mr. 0 tried killing my sister.” Sanji and Zoro stepped in front of Robin at your response. 

Realizing their assumption, you carefully continued, “No, it’s not like that. She’s not on my revenge list, trust me.” Fuck, I need to fix this, you thought.

You turned to face the archeologist and rushed out, “Robin, you... you saved my sister’s life and mine while you worked for Baroque Works. I don’t know if you remember that thief you helped escape from Alabasta?” You inched closer to her, and woefully continued, “since then, I’ve been hoping that I could see you again, and somehow re-pay the debt.” Your shoulders slumped down as you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. 

Robin quietly stared at you as various thoughts raced through her mind. A thief and sister? I don’t remember helping anyone during my time in Baroque Works, she questioned, I was way too focused on saving myself. Besides Crocodile made sure I never left his side after the Marine —. The archeologist’s thoughts stopped as she remembered. 

“The slot machine thief… is that you?” she quietly asked as she stepped towards you.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You couldn’t believe that she remembered you. Overwhelmed with emotion, you and Robin rushed to hug one another. 

“I thought she didn’t have any friends before us,” mumbled Usopp. Nami swiftly scolded him with her fist.

Holding you close, the dark haired woman stroked your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I always wondered what happened to those kids I put in that ship all those years ago. I assumed the worst, but you’re okay… you’re okay." You snuggled further in her embrace, happy to see your savior again. 

“Wait,” Robin gripped your shoulders and looked directly at your masked face, “where’s your sister?” Sensing her dread, you placed your hands over hers and confirmed, “She’s alive. But, I won’t lie, she’s…” You glanced at the Strawhats. You could tell that Robin trusted her crew, but you weren’t sure if you were comfortable with showing your true self in front of them. You looked back at Robin and continued, “come with me upstairs. I’m renting a room here at the tavern. There I can tell you more about my sister and everything over some wine.”

“NO! THAT IS NOT HAPPENING. NOT UNDER MY WATCH!” Sanji cried. While the cook was happy to see Robin reunite with an old friend, he felt uneasy towards you. He and the crew still didn’t know much about you and it didn't help that you used his family name. For all he knew, you were trying to use your past with Robin to your favor.  I won’t let this man hurt Robin even if they’re old friends. She doesn’t need any more betrayal in her life, he thought, staring you down. 

His watch? Anger bubbled within you. You couldn’t believe the audacity of this man in trying to dictate Robin’s actions. 

“Last time I checked Robin is old enough to make her own decisions so why don’t you back off, Vinsmoke,” you growled. 

Sanji opened his mouth to bite back, but stopped when he felt Robin’s hand gently sit on his shoulder. “I appreciate your concern Sanji, but you don’t need to worry, I trust the Siren.” Robin looked at the rest of the crew and continued, “you can all go back to the Sunny without me. I’ll make sure to be back before we leave tomorrow.”

“No,” interjected Luffy. Everyone stiffened. You even hesitated.

“Oi, Luffy, don’t be like that. Let Robin reconnect with her old friend. If she says she’ll be fine, I’m sure she will be fine,” said Franky. He turned towards you and gave you a thumbs up. I like this guy, you thought.

“I know she’ll be fine!” shared Luffy. He immediately slumped to the ground. “I just don’t want to walk in the rain!” he whined. Everyone eased up. Nami immediately scolded the boy for the confusion.

“Can’t we just rent some rooms here? Oi, tavern lady!” declared Luffy. Nami quickly shut the boy up, reminding him that their current finances didn’t allow for that. Luffy groaned in displeasure. Wanting to impress Robin, you stepped forward. 

“If you all don’t mind, let me rent you some rooms for the night. I have more than enough to cover a couple more rooms. That way…” you nodded towards Sanji, “those of you who are concerned for your friend can stay close and also you all don’t have to walk in the storm.” Before anyone had a chance to refuse, Luffy happily accepted and yelled for the tavern lady. 

Word Count: 1554

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: Personally, one of my proudest chapters - really pat myself on the back on this one! I low key wished this was the first chapter but got attached to my previous one so oh well!

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Worm Witcher Worm

Jaskier wrote Burn Butcher Burn after The Mountain Divorce, and spent the next two years singing it in every tavern and inn he came to. It became one of his most well-known songs.

Geralt spent his time wandering the Path alone, and heard people talk about a popular song, but he never paid much attention. After he made up with Jaskier and they started traveling together again, he eventually found out about the song.

It was awkward. Really awkward. They couldn't look each other in the eye, and conversation was painfully uncomfortable for days afterwards. They had a nice long talk one evening, only after Roach got tired of watching them wallow and took matters into her own hands...er, hooves.

She'd trod heavily on Geralt's foot while he was unsaddling her, then shoved him toward Jaskier with her head. Geralt had taken the hint and started the most awkward converstation in history.

Under Roach's watchful eye, threatening snorts, and laced back ears, words were exchanged, the figurative Olive Branch was extended, given an encouraging shake, and apologies were made along with promises to be better.

Fast forward months later. Jaskier and Geralt were back to being besties, and Jaskier was spending another winter with his surrogate family. Jaskier had gotten up late, had a late breakfast, and then drank some wine to get rid of his hangover.

He'd harrassed Lambert about his hair, lecturing him in the middle of the Great Hall before dragging him down to the hotsprings.

He'd gone wandering the corridors and empty rooms of the keep, playing out the stories in his head that would inspire songs and ballads.

He'd gone to have long, philosophical discussions with Roach, who was a very good listener, and agreed with him on everything.

Jaskier skipped down to lab to f**k with Yennefer, getting in the way, bantering, and generally being a nuissance.

"Will you get out of here? I'm trying to work, you irritating, insufferable, c*ckwomble!"

"Oh, please! You know you can't stand to be parted from me!"

"I will part you if you don't leave immediately!"

"Ooooh, it that a proposition?"

"Get out before I throw you in the garden, and plow you-!"

"That's anatomically impossible for you to do, but I'm always open to new experiences. I'm sure we could figure something out!."

"I'm going to turn you into a worm!"

Jaskier ran for it when Yennefer lunged at him, and ducked out the door, laughing. "You'd still love me even if I was a worm, right?"

Yennefer chased him out the door, throwing an empty bowl at him.

Jaskier retreated to his room, deciding it was best to stay out of Yennefer's way for a while. He worked on one of his new songs for a while, then went down to the kitchen to pinch a bottle of wine and some bread and cheese.

He took his time, enjoying his snack, and as the level of the wine in the bottle slowly dropped, he started thinking about what Yennefer had said about turning him into a worm. Would she really do it? Would it be permanent, or would it wear off?

Would the spell work on Witchers? Would they be normal worms, or would they be different? They were Witchers, after all. Would they keep their Witcher qualities? Would they be Witcher worms?

And that begs the question: would he be regular worm sized, or would he be, like, a giant worm? With a hat? Would he still be able to sing? Would he be just a giant worm with a fancy hat and a lute that went around singing songs?

Would he sing about people, or would he only sing about worms? Would he have to change his songs to be about worms instead? And how would he play his lute? Would he use his a**end, or would he have some sort of little arms? His brain, marinated in alcohol, started exploring the idea.

Several hours later, Jaskier found himself back in the Great Hall, sitting at the dinner table with his Wolf family. He listened to the stories from the Path, laughing along, and teasing the Wolves about one thing or another. They drank and sang, and played games, and made fun of Lambert.

Long after they should have been in bed, all of them to a man were sh*tfaced off their a**es.

It was too hard to play Gwent when the cards wouldn't hold still long enough to get proper look at the suits, and you couldn't remember how to play anyway.

Telling stories of the Path had lost it's appeal after the stories only got more confusing because no one could remember which story they were telling and in what order the events happened.

Fighting was out of the question when the floor kept tilting and rolling under your feet and the b**tard you were trying to fight kept changing places everytime you blinked.

All the while, Jaskier's slowly pickling brain kept circling back to his earlier thoughts about worms. The thoughts wriggled in and squiggled around, burrowing deeper into his thoughts, brining new thoughts and questions, new things to wonder about.

Eskel tossed back the last dregs of his White Gull and plonked his tankard down, called cheerfully "Jask, sing us a song!"

"A song, bard!" the other Witchers called out in agreement, then started chanting, "Sing! Sing! Sing!"

Jaskier, brain embalmed at this point, heard the crowd calling him, and could not resist. The next thing he knew he was standing on top of the table, thoughts still falling down the rabbit hole of worms. He cradled his lute, and, with his last functioning brain cell only able to remember something about worms, started singing.

The song was familiar, especially to Geralt, but he was confused. They lyrics were different. He didn't remember the song being about worms. Still, it was catchy. It was one of those songs that stuck in your brian and kept you awake all night, playing over and over.

There was something about it that just made you want to get up and move. No, it was like some sort of magic spell: It compelled you to get up and...

Jaskier's voice rose and boomed through the Hall as he hit the chorus, "WORM, WITCHER, WoOoOrRRRMMMM!"

Jaskier could not explain the phenonemon that resulted in the weirdest form of locomotion that he had ever seen. Witchers all thourghout the Hall were throwing themselves to the floor and undulating across it like sine waves.

Jaskier marvled at the magical sight, belting out the next verses and following up with the chorus.

Yennefer and Vesemir, hearing the noise came into the Great Hall to see what f**kery was afoot and were greeted by the oddest sight.

Jaskier *Standing on the table*: "WaTcH ThAt WiTCheR WoOoRRRMMM!

Geralt and his brothers: *frantically doing The Worm*

Yennefer stood there watching out of horrified fascination, speechless as Geralt 'wormed' as if his life depended on it. If he wormed any faster, she feared he would go airborne. Jaskier hit the chorus line again, belting out "WoRm, WiTcHeR WoRM, WoRM, wOrM, WoRm..."

Vesemir dipped out without a word. He was going to bed. He was just too old for this sh*t.

Yennefer watched for a few moments as her two idiots went on with their nonsense. She wondered what was going on inside their heads, then decided she didn't want to know. She marveled at how easily she had let these two imbeciles into her life. She sighed. Love was so complicated.

Yennefer left moments later, not wanting to bear witness to what ever disaster was going to happen if one of them Wormed too close to the fire pit, or over the piles of empty bottles of White Gull.

The next morning, the Witchers woke up with massive hangovers, wondering why they felt as if they'd been bludgeoned by rock trolls. They could remember nothing of the previous night's activities, but for some mysterious reason, they all had had odd dreams about worms.

[cain-e-brookman]

i was tagged by @illarian-rambling! thanks!

Rules: post brief descriptions of some characters and a poll, then get people to vote on their favorite

okay i've done this for the main cast of book one, lets see how much i can give away for book two characters

propaganda under the cut

Hesperos is a Sky Mage of Clan Galanis who worship the eldest of the Sky God's children: Khrou the Messenger, Goddess of Lightning. Exiled from his clan at a young age, for reasons he won't speak on, he was found off the coast of Vizia on a half-destroyed vessel by a young merchant lord after being abandoned at sea. Although he grew up alongside the carefree culture of the Sea God's children, he keeps to his clan's disciplined philosophy, as to never lose the grace of his goddess. Despite the strict adherence to his religion, Hesperos is, well, a ham. A performer from a young age, he loves nothing more than music, theater, and being the most dramatic person in any given room. He's enjoyed the wealth of his guardian, but never puts on airs and it polite to a detriment. His manners are his shield, as there's much he hides behind a charming word and easy smile.

You have two options. If you want to know her as a friend, you know her as Miss Belle, the owner of the most bustling tavern in Crescaeya: The Sunk Gator, home of the most authentic Marsher cuisine this side of the border. If you want to know her as an enemy, it's General Isabelle Duplantis-LaBoef of the Shadow Kings Army. During the war, she was known as the most ruthless defender on the home front. The only person in history who had ever sunk even a single Vizian ship, let alone three. After the heated peace talks ended, and the Vizian Armada broke their embargo, Miss Belle stayed on with the army long enough to get her sash of medals from the Shadow King, then move north to Uslaria for her restaurant. It's better not to ask too many questions; all good Marshers know this. So no one questions the late night shipments at her door, or how the large woman who always has the private table upstairs resembles a particular Vizian Fleet Admiral...

Anyone who's been in a room with Tavi knows he's royal, no matter what blood or title say. A merchant marine made guild leader, he's known to be as two-faced as they come. In balls and social events, the picture of grace and charm, funny and social. Anyone on the business side knows this is a lie. He's a controlling, stubborn, and hard business man who knows how to get things done. No one can deny he gets results, though, and through a friendship (or more if the rumors are to believed) with the duchess, he's managed to worm himself deep into the inner working of the largest trade city in Uslaria. After years of watching him slowly take control, most now understand why his family signet is an octopus.

Silas was once a carpenter who lived deep into the wild lands tucked into the heart of the Marshes, the Dark Waters, but was pulled from his life during the war with the Fire Mages. Marked by the Silver Moon as the most true Mage in his small town, he was drafted the moment the Marshes were attacked. His time in the Shadow King's army brought him far from home and ended when his unit was attacked in an ambush as they pushed their way through enemy lines in the middle of the night. He spotted the attack before his sleeping camp had, sounded the alarm and held back the assault long enough to give his men a fighting chance. In doing so, he sacrificed himself to the fire, and that night, under the light of the Silver Moon, he died. Or so the casualty report would say. The healers didn't think he'd survive the hour from the burns, but he did, becoming the only living person to ever hold the medal for a sacrificial death in defense of the people of Ixoryn. (He made it very clear when he made it home, he wasn't giving it back.) Now, he lives in Crescaeya as Tavi's live-in bodyguard, able to intimidate most before they even think of hurting his lord. The burn scars on most of his body sends a very clear message: You're gonna have to do worse than this to take me down.

and i'll tag @spideronthesun @skullduggeryandfilibuster @emrowene @topazadine! as always no pressure!

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Soaked in Blood; Doused in Bleach

Word Count: 1,190

Characters: Eustass "Captain" Kidd, Killer

Warnings: Angst Time. MEDICAL trauma; wound cleaning ( nothing graphic ).

Author's Notes: Consider this a part two to Born To Break.

It happened quickly. One moment, he had been smarting off; his mouth had always been a touch too smart, a touch too full of heated words and anger that manifested with a bark that threatened that a bite was close behind. That had been his downfall, now that he thinks about it- being too full of himself, too prideful, too hotheaded in a way that a captain should never be.

Benn Beckman took his arm.

He shouldn’t have laughed when it happened; it hadn’t felt real at the moment. One moment, his arm was there, and the next? The next, it was on the ground at his feet. The bastard’s Haki, combined with a blast from that shotgun he carried like a damn club. He couldn’t recall clearly what happened next; Heat had begged- actually begged, something Heat was known to despise even considering- for them to spare his life. Killer had held him? Or had that been Wire? He wasn’t sure.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror felt like he was having an out of body experience. That had been nearly three weeks ago. The tavern they’d decided to hole up in was discreet enough; the lack of Marine presence was a blessing. They could buy the tavern keeps’ silence, could lay low, and wait for this to heal. Bubblegum had found a doctor- an actual doctor, not just Wire playing doctor with stitches and bottles of cheap liquor.

Of course, there was no way to save his arm. The cut had been clean enough; he’deen too drunk to remember that, too. Probably a blessing, now that he thought about it. It hurt now; the skin pulling and tugging in the worst way possible as it fought to mend itself, to pull back together and heal over. The stitches would remain for another week or two, depending on how well this all heals up.

Eustass Kid hated this.

The door to his room opened, and in popped Killer, followed by Wire. His personal nursing team, it seemed. “The fuck did you two run off to?” He grumbled, though a smile tugged at his lips as the door closed behind Killer.

“Supply run. Found a store down the way that was sellin’ some dried goods.” Wire explained, setting down a small package of dried meat. Deer jerky. Deer? They had deer on this island? Shit, that was almost reminiscent of home. “And some more bandages.”

“Can I?” Killer asked, hands hovering, meeting his gaze through the holes in the helmet. The helmet he’d made him, years ago.

A grimace contorts his features, but he nods. “‘S time for new ones, anyway.” A roll of the shoulders has pain radiating from his arm, enough that a wheeze of pain slips free from unpainted lips. Shifting forward to the edge of the bed, he stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror across from him. Killer sits after having washed his hands, and carefully unwraps the bandage. Over and over, around and around. They essentially trapped his arm against his ribs to avoid it from moving too much. Killer’s hands were warm, gentle despite the danger they normally pose, despite the chaos and carnage they could cause. He’d seen those hands at work; had watched him kill with them as if it was nothing.

And now, he was touching him as if he were about to shatter into a thousand porcelain shards.

Garnet gaze tracks up, meets Wire’s umber gaze, watches him watch Killer. His gaze darkens as the final layer falls away; Kidd hisses once more as the cool air of the room hits the angered flesh. He doesn’t look; something about looking at it makes his stomach twist in ways that threaten to expel anything he’d managed to eat. So he watches his friend.

“It’s looking good,” Killer murmurs; at some point, he’d removed his helmet. Kidd looks to the ground where it sits; he can see the stump in his peripheral, and ignores it. If he ignores it, it will go away; that’s what he used to think when he was younger. If you ignore something, it will leave. That was bullshit. It won’t leave, it’s part of you now. “Skin’s healing well. Can I clean it?”

His stomach flipped. “Yeah,” he bit out, drawing in a slow breath to quell the nausea that threatened to make itself at home once more. He’d just managed to keep breakfast and lunch down, don’t ruin it. “Thank ye,” Eustass murmurs, and Killer nods. He glances over, studies him now. Killer had always had pretty hair. Golden in color and thick. It was curlier when they were kids.

Killer frowns as he dampens the cloth with isopropyl alcohol; it’ll sting like a bitch, but that’s what they had to work with, now. The wound itself was healing well; the skin pulling together nicely. It wouldn’t be an ugly scar, not compared to some that he’d seen- and caused- over the years. He could still feel the way Kid had slumped hard against him after the adrenaline had fled his system, after Shanks and Benn and those damned pirates had left.

The amount of blood loss had been terrifying. Killer quickly shoves that image out of his mind.

“Shit hurts,” Eustass groaned, eyes squeezing shut. His hand curled into a fist against the bed- and after a moment, Wire reached over, carefully opening his fist to replace the blankets with his own hand. Eustass gripped it, used the feeling of holding his hand to ground himself. Breathe, he needed to breathe. Raw nerves were a bitch to deal with, it seemed. “I have… An idea.”

“What is it?” Killer asked softly, leaning down to study the way the sutures curved. The doctor really did know what he was doing. Good.

“Gonna make myself an arm.”

“Are ye?” Wire mused softly; his fingers stretched down, index and middle settling over Eustass’ pulse point in his wrist. One, two, three, four…

“I think I can figure a way to make it work. Give myself an arm, again.”

“With your Devil Fruit?”

“Partly, yeah.”

Killer hummed, nodding slowly as he sat up. He tossed the rag aside; stained pink with old blood that still oozed when Kid was too rough with himself. “Whatever you need,” he rose to his feet to grab the fresh bandages. Gauze that wouldn’t stick against the nub; a roll of cloth to secure it in place. “We’ll help you.”

“You fuckin’ better,” his eyes rolled; Kid grinned over at Wire, who shook his head, though a fond expression had colored his features. “This ain’t gonna keep me down. We got places to go.”

“Give it another week, please.” Killer sighed, leaning close to wrap the bandages.

“... Fine.” Kid met his own gaze in the mirror once more, watching as the flesh was covered. He would make himself a new arm. It would be difficult; he’d need Wire’s help, but it would happen.

And then? Then, he’d find Red Haired Shanks and his stupid little First Mate, and return the favor twice fold.

[punks-never-die205]

Passing Fascination

Fem Reader x Yandere!Eustass Kid

CW: kidnapping, yandere Eustass Kid, violence, dubious consent, imprisonment, abuse, swearing, sex, group sex, dark content kids I am not messing around with this ♥

Summary: Three Rivers Island was a unique island on the Grand Line. It had only two rivers, but those two rivers divided the island into thirds. One far bank was tightly controlled by Marines, the other far bank was controlled by pirates unofficially, and the center section was controlled by merchants - who welcomed both Pirates and Marines.

You grew up on Three Rivers, taking care of yourself with whatever jobs you could find. Port savvy and sassy enough to keep pirates inline, you're a barmaid at the local pirate-favored tavern. When Kid and his gang come into port you're pretty sure that it's merely passing fascination between you both, but Kid seems to have other ideas.

Chapter 1: That Night, This Morning

You balanced the large tray on the edge of the table, passing out drinks as the masked first-mate stood up and helped you pass them around. “Your starting round of ale, gentlemen.” You say with a smirk. The captain rolls his golden eyes and groans while the other crew members laugh.

“That’s gonna stick, huh?” Eustass Kid grumbles. “I told you sweetheart, we ain’t gentle.”

You tuck the tray under your arm and give him a crooked smile. “Could’ve fooled me, Red.” You say with a wink. “Whatcha boys having tonight?”

Kid leans forward, he’s a little irritated by the nickname, but he hasn’t explicitly told you to stop using it. “You on the menu tonight?”

“I’m only on the menu the day before.” You answer smoothly, giving him a sly smile.

“The day before what?” Wire asks, walking into your trap.

“The day before someone asks.” You answer. It only takes a second before the table bursts out laughing. You get the crew’s orders as the ruckus dies down, even getting a begrudging order from Eustass Kid.

You wake up slowly. You had fallen asleep so hard that it was almost hard to get yourself moving, but you had to get to work so you needed to get up. Hard as you slept, you must not have overslept, because your room was dark, and the shaky place you called home wasn’t light-proof.

Something pinged in the back of your mind as you pushed yourself upright, but you couldn’t sort out what it was in your morning haze. Your clothes were –

Wait.

Clothes?

You grab at your shirt as you sit up fully. You rarely went to bed in anything, it was too hot on the island even at night, and you couldn’t afford a fan to stay cool. But you were still in your clothes from your date with Kid.

The evening continues on without anything else of note happening. Once you’re done entirely and heading home – thank the seas you weren’t stuck closing – you step out into the night air and see Eustass Kid waiting for you.

None of his other crew was around, and he wasn’t hiding in the shadows. He was a massive guy, and far more than just a little intimidating, but he seemed to be doing everything he could to appear less so. Something about the effort alone makes you relax.

“What’s got you waiting out here, captain?” You inquire, looking up and down the street before stepping closer.

He gives you a look that pointedly answers your question and you can’t stop the nervous chuckle that escapes you.

“What time is it?” He questions, cracking his neck as he stretches a little.

“Mm, it was about 11:40pm when I walked out. Can’t be much later than that.”

“Perfect.” He says with a grin, coming over to you and stopping just far enough away you didn’t have to crane your neck to see his face. “I can put my order in for you for tomorrow then.”

“You – can… you…” You stammer a few times, feeling the heat rush up into your face. “I – I’m… flattered.” You take a step back, and clear your throat. “But… I don’t want to be anyone’s port-whore or port-girl or whatever. I… I have a very strict no-sailors rule.” You insist, waving a hand in front of yourself.

“… Just for a meal then.” Eustass concedes, giving you a look and a grin that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Let me treat you. Is there a fancy place you like in that middle island?”

“I, yes, but I mean…” You stammer. “I – I won’t budge, Mr. Eustass. I don’t want you to think I’m u-using you.”

“Using me?” Kid looks amused.

“For a… for a f-free meal, I mean.” You say apologetically. “The… the Avant Garde is an aptly named restaurant, with prices to match.”

He steps toward you, kneeling before he reaches out and brushes your cheek with the back of his finger. “No one uses me,” he says softly. “One meal. A second if you enjoy yourself. I won’t force my way into your pants.” He gives you a toothy grin. “It’s no good if you’re not begging me for it.”

As you’re more alert now, you realize what was bothering the back of your mind earlier. The room wasn’t just dark, it was windowless, and the soft rocking sensation was another problem.

You were not in your room.

The room was dark, but it wasn’t completely devoid of light. A transponder snail – the type for playing recordings – was sitting on a desk not too far away. It wasn’t looking at you, it was just projecting a blank image onto the wall, which created a bit of light in the room. Aside from the snail you were alone.

It smelled a little of oil, but mostly of oak and liquor. There was a subtle scent of ocean water, but the room was dry and the scents were crisp – clean.

Getting out of bed as your eyes adjusted, you stepped around the room carefully. There were shelves of books built into the walls with bars across them. Not in a way to stop anyone from getting to the books, but you assumed a way to keep them in place when the waters got choppy. It looked like there used to be more in the room, as though it was missing chairs and small knickknacks and other things that usually made a room look lived in.

You weren’t sure if things were removed to tidy the room, or if they were removed because of you, but you were fairly certain that you’d been kidnapped.

The steady rocking was unmistakable, and you knew for certain at least that you were on a ship. Your heart was nearly in your stomach, and your stomach was by no means steady the more you came to realize, but you walked toward the doors to the room regardless.

You put a hand on the door handle, taking a deep breath. What would you do if it opened? You didn’t know the layout of any ship, what good would leaving the room do? If you could find a room with a window you could jump into the ocean. You had no idea how long the ship had been at sea, but every moment pulled you further from your island, you were certain of that much.

No part of you ached. No one had, as far as you could sense, touched you. Aside from whatever it took to get you on this ship in the first place. You were being treated kindly, but that was irrelevant right now.

Waiting in here did you no good so you put pressure on the handle and winced as it slowly rotated, allowing you to crack the door open. Light from the hallway spilled in, and you gave your eyes a moment to adjust before opening it wide enough to step out in the hall.

The quiet was a little unnerving, but you’d take whatever graces you were given. You strained your hearing to gather any useful sounds as you moved quickly and quietly down the hall. You were still in your clothes from the date, minus your shoes, but the shoes were noisy so you were okay without them. You were just grateful you’d opted for a nice shirt and some capri pants for your date. Shuffling around in a dress would’ve been a hassle.

You could hear the sounds of people sleeping as you worked your way down the hall. You didn’t want to open the door to an occupied room, so you continued onward. Eventually, you came to a door with a window in it – moonlight hitting the wall from outside.

It was still dark outside, which meant that most of the crew would likely be asleep, and not just a few loud snorers recovering from a night shift. You stopped by the door, cursing your height, and inability to see out the window effectively. If someone was watching the door, it would be better to just walk out of it and take stock of what you could as fast as you could. Otherwise, you’d end up pinned before you could make it onto the deck.

Stepping through the door you stepped around and took in what you could. A mostly empty, broad deck, with what looked like a few people resting up against the railings. The moon was bright, and you were glad your clothes were fairly dark in color, if you’d gone with something pastel you’d be lit up like a beacon compared to everything else.

You didn’t want anyone to notice you until you were within leaping distance of the rail. You were currently the smallest thing on this ship, you were sure of it.

These men were big – wide, tall, full of muscles and scars and spikes and leather and ostentatious furs. Even the women in the crew fit the aesthetic. These looked like people who could level a tavern because they had a good time, and then leave enough money to rebuild the place better because they wanted to come back later to a better time.

And woe to the tavern owner not able to comply.

But their behavior was keeping the other pirate crews in line by default. Eustass “Captain” Kid and his crew were part of the worst generation, bounties in the millions. Bounties created a kind of hierarchy among pirates – most wouldn’t cause a commotion when higher bounties were around. They’d happily join in if those pirates started shit though, of that you could be sure.

Despite the higher-than-average collection of pirate vessels, the port thrived. It was one of the best places in the New World to stock up. Part of the island was tightly protected and controlled by the navy, but the other two thirds of it was very loose on the rules. Two rivers divided the island neatly.

The center island facilitated things between the two extremes, creating a unique situation all the way around. Pirates and Marines rarely ventured into the center area, a place almost exclusively controlled by merchants and couriers, with pockets deep enough to afford guards that could keep both marines and pirates in place. There were rumors some of the guards were ex Cipher Pol agents, or people who only quit being pirates when they barely survived facing the Emperors.

So, by that alone, there weren’t many people who could give them a hard time. Thus, a tidy balance was struck on the island – one that was mutually beneficial for everyone involved.

Three Rivers’ port was big, and busy, and if you were still anywhere near, you’d be able to at least find a passing ship. Statistically your chances were pretty good. You were a strong swimmer, and as you reached the rail you hadn’t heard anyone stirring or paying you any mind. Looking at the horizon, you were certain you could see the island.

You walked steadily alongside the rail looking for a lifeboat. The release would make noise, but so would you if you leapt overboard. You could get further faster in the rowboat, and once your arms gave out you could just ditch the boat and swim. It would take time for the larger boat to turn around and come after you.

You were nearly at the stern of the ship when you saw what you needed. A small, two-person at most and probably just large enough to hold a single crew member from this crew, rowboat with a quick release. Considering the vibe of the crew that you came to know over their week in port, you doubted it was for someone to run away. Whatever it was used for, it’s what you needed right now.

The wind was coming in straight from the island, and that put luck on your side. Turning into the wind was going to be hard for the big ship, and the wide arc would give you time enough to reach the shore.

Hopping into the boat you gave it as thorough a check as you could spare. Seeing no major damage or cracks, and finding two well-cared for oars, you braced yourself against the rails and kicked the quick release hard. It sent a jolt up your foot that made it throb, but you’d have to worry about any major injury later.

The boat dropped, hitting the water loudly.

Water curled up around the sides and splashed into the boat, but not enough to sink the small vessel and it buoyed onto the water’s surface easily enough. You gave your stomach half a second to settle from the intense drop and set both the oars.

The oars hit the water as the call rang out on the ship, and you stayed still. The ship was moving away from you under its own power, and the longer it took for the people on board to sort out what happened the better for you.

There was no sense in giving yourself away by rowing and making more noise.

Seconds stretched into a minute, two minutes, the ship was far enough away now that no one was going to be able to hook and haul you back in, so you started rowing. The commotion was covering your sounds at this point as well, and you were experienced at rowing.

You weren’t going to panic and work harder than you needed to. Setting your feet against the second bench you braced yourself and made long, slow, full strokes, letting what power you had from years of bartending and running row boats through the shores for testing help you.

Dip, twist, haul, twist, lift. It was almost soundless as you rowed the boat away.

It wasn’t noise that gave you away, eventually it was the moon.

“Straight off the stern!” Came the call. “Fuck, how’d she get so far?!”

You grin a little. The only change you make are the twists. There’s no need to set the oars in or lift them quietly. Rowing is power over speed though, so you didn’t pick up your pace. You didn’t hurt your foot too bad kicking the quick release either, it wasn’t bleeding enough to be seen and it only throbbed a little from the point of impact.

Considering you’d been kidnapped by pirates, your luck was winning through. Once you got ashore and got your bearings sorted you could work on trying to remember how you ended up on Eustass Kid’s ship.

For now though, you needed to stay focused on rowing as efficiently as possible.

[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R. Warning: Upset Cupcake. Concerned Buggy. They have ✨communication problems✨. Family reunion. Word Count: 2,113 A/N: More communication hiccups. It just happens.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby@fluffybunnyu@sinning-23@the-angriest-angel@ane5e @fanshavegottensotoxic@honey-deerling

Chapter 17

You were staring at your older sister. Aurora had joined the Marines ages ago, working her way up to Captain it seemed since you last saw her a few years ago. What was she doing in Shells Town of all places? Why did you have to run into her? The way she was staring at you, as though she was looking at a ghost, was starting to get to you. She couldn’t stop herself from rushing over and throwing her arms around you. You went stiff, this wasn’t what you wanted.

“Mom wrote and said you had died!” 

“Well-”

“Your home was destroyed by some horrible pirates!” She continued as she hugged you tightly. “Th-There was a service and everything for you!”

That made you feel a little bad, but at the same time… 

“Your poor husband died yet you managed to live! How?” Her eyes widened. “That big beautiful home of yours and that poor man! Gone in an instant!” She wiped away the tears. “I can’t believe you’re alive and out here! You poor thing, your husband died to save you, didn’t he?”

You pulled back when she said that, looking up at your sister. The tears in her eyes bothered you. Your siblings all left the family behind while you stayed back to help your parents. You were the one sold off to support the family business. You put up with the abuse from your ex and his wives. You were never able to tell your family what happened. While you appeared to be marrying into a rich household, you were in a constant hell. 

“Well, I managed to escape.” You told her, trying to keep your voice steady as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m alive.”

“Why aren’t you home?!” Aurora demanded suddenly. “Mom and dad have been in mourning and you’re off on a little trip through the seas?! What is wrong with you?! You should go home!”

You didn’t want to cause a scene. You didn’t want to be talking to her in this room full of Marines, with their ears listening and eyes watching, full of people who would arrest you if they knew you were affiliated with pirates. Would your sister do that? Have you arrested and tortured for information on your boyfriend and your new friends and family? 

Instead you smiled. “You all left. I decided I needed a change.”

“A change?!” Aurora gasped. “Our parents have no clue what happened to you and you’re just here having a drink?!”

“Well, not really a drink-”

“You need to contact mom and dad.” Your sister insisted. “You can come with me to the base and we can send a letter out to them.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, you can just tell them.” You insisted. Cabaji entered the tavern, looking around for you. The two of you locked eyes, he saw your sister, and he proceeded to the counter instead. If he stepped in it could put the crew at risk, so he let you handle it. That was fine. “I… I should get going.”

“Going?! Where do you have to go?!” Aurora asked as she grabbed your shoulders roughly, searching your face for something, anything that could tell her what was going on in that head of yours. “Are you in danger? Are… are you safe, sis? Did something happen?”

How could you answer that? You felt safer now with Buggy and his crew than before. You felt safer seeing Cabaji in the tavern than the dozens of Marines enjoying their drinks and food. If something was going to happen to you, the crew would be the ones you run to, not your sister or the Marines.

Before you could answer, there was a disruption at the bar. You both turned to look, your sister loosened her grip before muttering something and rushing forward to help. Cabaji was already heading out and you rushed to follow after. He glanced over at you but said nothing. You didn’t know what to really say.

~

“What did you tell that Marine?” Cabaji demanded as you two returned to the tent. “What did you tell her about us? You seemed close to her.”

You didn’t want to answer him but you knew silence would cause further problems. With a shrug, you glanced back at the town. “That was my sister. She’s a Captain.”

“What did you tell her?” 

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “Family mourned for me. She wanted me to tell our parents I’m alive. I think she was going to force me back to the base.”You looked back at Cabaji. “I didn’t tell her about the crew or Captain Buggy, promise. I wouldn’t do that, y’know.”

“Captain will want to know about this…” Cabaji hesitated. He knew how the captain could get, but so did you. Did he really think you wouldn’t tell Buggy something like this happened?

“Let’s get back to the Captain.” You said, looking back at him. “I need to talk to him.”

~

You had to wait for Cabaji to finish talking to Buggy and explaining what happened to the map. You waited outside, chewing on your fingernails, listening to your boyfriend laugh after talking to him, seeing the acrobat exit the ring quickly. You waited a second before turning to walk in. He was grinning, perking up more when he saw you. He pushed himself out of the wooden chair and started to approach you. 

“Babe-”

He didn’t get to ask how you enjoyed yourself. You rushed over to him and threw yourself at him, burying your face against his chest, not caring if the buttons or buckles were poking you and uncomfortable. The laughter was gone, replaced with concern, even anger, because he didn’t know what was wrong.

“Babe, talk, what’s going on?” He demanded as he tried to pry you off to look at him. You lifted your head up. The tears in your eyes were startling but what you said unnerved him.

“I saw my sister.” You swallowed heavily. “She-She made it sound like I had a happy marriage, you know, and couldn’t believe I was still alive, and I didn’t tell her anything about you, or-or the crew, I jus’ said I was on a trip and taking time and she-”

“Woah, woah, okay, time out.” He managed to get you to loosen your grip just a bit. “Your sister was in town?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “She’s a Marine Captain.”

Buggy stared down at you, processing these words. A Marine Captain. Not that much of a threat, they were easily dealt with, but for him to be learning this now… 

“Why am I just now finding this out?!” He demanded, grabbing your shoulders to push you back a bit, ignoring how you flinched at the tone of his voice. “That your sister is a Captain?!”

“I didn’t know she was a damn Captain now!” You told him. “I-I knew she joined the Marines but I didn’t know she got promoted and-and she saw me in the bar and was so shocked, you know, and my mom and dad are mourning for me and she said I need to contact them and-”

You babbled on, hiding your face against him once more as the tears rolled down your cheeks. There was a moment back with your sister that made you wonder if you’d see Buggy again. What if she had taken you to the base? What if you slipped up and were arrested, putting the crew at risk? Buggy would have thought you left him for good and the thought of that had you crying harder.

Buggy wasn't sure what to do. You wouldn't let go of him, you were crying, and he needed to go alert the crew about being on the lookout for his map, but last time he didn't comfort you the two of you fought and he didn't want that either. He needed to do something.

“Babe, Cupcake, let's… go to our room and you can relax. I have to tell the crew one thing but I'll come back.” He told you. You looked at him, hurt, but he took his arm off and handed it to you. “Listen, I can't do much without it, so I promise I'll come find you in a few minutes.”

“Buggy-”

“Babe, I promise.” He kissed you on the forehead and gave you a gentle push away. You frowned at him and stood there, holding his arm as he headed off. 

Fine.

~

You were curled up on the bed, replaying the conversation with your sister in your head, wondering if you said anything that could have jeopardized the crew and Buggy. You last saw him fifteen minutes ago and he said it would only be a few minutes, but it hurt how long it was taking.

His arm was moving and it was a little weird, but you appreciated it a little bit as his hand was stroking your hair while you sniffled. You were stressed, panicking, and you felt sick with anxiety after seeing her. Of all the pubs around, you had to go to the one your sister was at.

You took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down, but it wasn't helping. Someone was approaching the bedroom, it had to be Buggy, right? But the footsteps didn't sound right. What if it was the Marines? Did they follow you and Cabaji? Your heart started racing, you grabbed his hand and squeezed it as you stared at the door, hoping they'd walk past, but there knob was turning and the door was opening-

“Fucking stepped in something.” Buggy muttered as he carried his boots in his hand. He tossed them aside and looked towards the bed just as a pillow hit him. “Hey!”

“It's you!”

“Obviously, babe!” Buggy shot back as he threw the pillow back at you. “Geez, what was that for?!”

“I-I didn't know if it was you!” You stammered, wiping your eyes on the back of your hand. He stared at you for a moment, holding his tongue as he took his arm back. He scratched his head and cleared his throat. 

“I didn't mean to take so long.” He said, looking a little bit sorry.

You shrugged and grabbed the pillow to hug, resting your chin on it. “I got worried. I thought maybe the Marines showed up.”

“Babe, they're not coming so stop worrying.” He insisted as he shrugged his jacket off. “I'll handle anything that they throw at us anyway.” 

“Buggy-”

“It's fine, we're fine, stop worrying.” Buggy said as he walked over to the bed and sprawled out across the mattress before reaching for you. You hesitated, still upset that he left you alone for so long again, but at least this time he kind of apologized for it. You let him pull you over and on top of his chest before he kissed you on the cheek. “I'm… sorry for leaving you again when you were upset, but I still had to take care of Captain shit.”

You rubbed your face and nodded. “Thanks for apologizing.”

“See, babe, nothing to worry about! I'm here, you're here, we'll be fine.” He chuckled as he rubbed your back slowly as you relaxed against him. “In a few days we'll find the thieves who took my map and I'll be on my way to being King of the Pirates.”

You just nodded again, resting your head over his heart as you tried to settle yourself. It was hard coming down from that moment of anxiety, where you thought everything was ruined by something you did, but he wasn't blaming you or even talking about it so maybe he really didn't think there was much to worry about. You sighed softly and rubbed your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Buggy asked. “I'm gonna keep you safe, y’know, from your family and scary Marines.”

“‘m okay.” You mumbled back as you sighed. “Just feel dumb for getting upset and stuff.”

“Well, I'm happy you're safe and home, babe.” He kissed you on the forehead. “The Marines won't getcha so you're stuck with me.”

You wrinkled your nose and looked at him. “There's worse people to be stuck with.”

“Like your sister?”

“Yea, after how she made the marriage sound happy and that I was lucky for it, I don't think I'd want to see her again.” You sighed and closed your eyes. “Time for a nap. You're not going anywhere.”

“Hard to with you on top of me.” Buggy retorted, making no effort to move. “I'm glad you're home, babe.”

You nodded and relaxed against him again. “Thanks, Buggy.”