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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 5 months ago

Note

📖 ⛵️ 🩹 + something to do with his hair? I’m obsessed with his hair and decided he should be too (I love the sailor boy now damn)

Morning Tide - Wojchek/Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, bit of drinking, the sad sailor is even sadder.

Wordcount: 2697

Summary: When his crew walks in, all of them garner your attention with their stories and toasts, but it's him who makes you leave your place behind the bar when you spot him drinking alone.

Notes: This is the second fic where I get him into bed for softness, I just can't help it 😌 Thank you for your patience! I know it's been a whiiiile since my last request, but from now on I'll be writing these at work when it's not super busy so I can keep up~ It'll be slow work, but I'd rather do that than wait for the weekends when my shifts are shorter, so as I get back into the swing of things I hope you enjoy 💗💗💗

It was a busy night tonight, all the ships seeming to come in that weekend as your work was flooded with sailors, some there for a drink, some there to borrow company, all of them there for a good time. You liked sailors, they tipped very well generally, your pockets full of coins of all shapes and sizes by the end of the nights when they crammed themselves in from wall to wall, and tonight was just as successful as the old clock outside ticked over into the early hours of the morning.

You were washing off the bar from a rowdy spill with his crew walked in, all of them tired and downtrodden as they pushed through the doors and looked for an empty table; this wasn't new, you'd seen your fair share of sad sailors after bad hauls or near wrecks, but this was different as one of them, an Irishman with a loud voice, tried to cheer them up and bring them over to grab some drinks, his energy clearly forced even as he hopped onto the barstool and slapped down a handful of coins.

‘A round a’ pints fer the lot a’ us,’ he declared to you as the others started to join, your co-worker coming over to help fill the order now that his own patrons were heading out. You filled mug after mug of the foaming liquid, each one sliding down the bar to outstretched hands, the mood rising as they downed them all back and reminisced about good times. You smiled as you listened, getting to know them through their stories, how close they all were after many years on the seas together. Their captain had retired years ago so he could buy a cottage and let his grandson experience life on land for once, you'd learned as they raised their glasses to him for bringing them together, tears in their eyes as they grinned wide and drank it all down, cries for more getting you to cry out right along with them as you raised your arm high and hit the tap.

You loved happy sailors most of all, but one of them caught your eye as you noticed him sitting by himself, no longer with the others as he sipped at his beer and stared out the door like he was waiting for someone else to walk in. He was captivating, nothing like the other men with their loud singing and stories, and you felt something settle in next to the greed for another good tip as you signaled to your co-worker that you wanted a break. You filled up another mug and brought it over to him, his eyes glancing up at you through his bangs, his expression hardening from longing to annoyance at you disturbing him.

‘On the house,’ you said as you pushed the drink towards him, and he eyed it before grabbing onto his current one and pulling it a little closer to himself.

He muttered something you didn't understand, and your smile faltered a little as you tried to recall the few words you'd learned from your patrons to see if you could guess what he was speaking. ‘I'm fine with this,’ he repeated in English, his tone alone warning you to go back to work and leave him be, but never in your life had you ever seen a sad sailor turn down a drink, not in all the years you'd worked there, and you looked back to the bar before grabbing onto the cold handle.

‘Mind if I sit, then?’ you asked as you pulled out the chair, and even when he shook his head slightly you still let your tired legs rest as you hit the old wood. ‘Your crewmates are having fun without you,’ you told him as you watched the condensation roll down the glass, and he looked at them before focusing on the table.

‘My crew, I'm the captain,’ he corrected you with a grumble, and you felt your cheeks redden because he certainly didn't make that obvious at all.

‘My apologies, sir,’ you quickly said, the beer offered to him again before he waved it off, he really didn't want it. ‘Well, they seem to be in good spirits now,’ you led, turning to face them as your eyes looked back at him, but he didn't notice as he stared at the door again.

‘They needed something to enjoy,’ he still agreed with you despite not looking, that forlorn expression returning as he gripped his mug a little tighter. You turned back to him, that something pushing the greed more out of the way as he took a deep drink then, your quest for tips falling to the wayside as you spun the mug back and forth a little, the foam rolling over the side and dripping down to the table.

‘Bad voyage this time, Captain?’ He glanced at you, trying to find the reason why you were still there, still trying to get him to speak, and you just flashed him your best bartender smile to get him to open up; he looked from you to his men and sighed, he was tired, weathered by too many storms, and for a moment you thought he might take the mug from you when he took another drink from his own.

‘We ran aground coming to port, hit some rocks we didn't see in the storm when we veered too far south,’ he told you seriously as he kept looking at the door, and as you followed his eyes you realized that he wasn't waiting for someone to walk in, he was gazing past the wood to watch the docks outside. ‘Been years since I took over the Demeter, she's been good to me for decades now, but the damage is too much for her… for us to pay for…’

So that explained their moods, they were here to drink the night away since they were all losing their jobs.

‘I know plenty of shipwrights, maybe I can help broker an arrangement?’ you offered, and you were a bit surprised with yourself as soon as you'd said it, since you actually wanted him to get his boat fixed, no strings attached.

He considered it a moment, a bit of hope showing on his face, but then a resigned misery took over instead, he'd already accepted he was going to lose his ship, they all had.

‘She had a good many years, it might be time to let her rest,’ he mumbled into his mug, and you felt a genuine sadness at his loss as his crew loudly toasted to the Demeter behind you. You watched him go to take one last drink, and your hand moved on instinct as you held up your own mug in a matching toast; he stared at it before clinking your glasses together, and you could feel the sadness radiating off of him as he gulped down the final drops. When he was done he slammed down the glass and went to stand, he was done already, his hand in his pocket to count the coins he owed you, but you stopped him before holding onto his wrist and giving him a small tug in the direction of the stairs.

‘I'm not just a bartender, Captain,’ you let him know, and he eyed you before starting to pull away, ‘and… borrowed time can be anything you need it to be.’

He looked down at your hand, and you felt the way he shook as he gave the door one last glance. ‘I can hardly afford to pay my crew for their final voyage,’ he admitted softly, he was ashamed that it'd gotten this far, but you just shook your head and held on a little tighter.

‘On the house, since you didn't want the drink,’ you offered gently, and a small bit of life came back to him as he stood. No one noticed that their captain was leaving as you signaled your co-worker again, and he just shouted for some assistance from someone else as another round was demanded.

This part of the building was for paying customers only, no one was allowed up without being escorted by a, well, escort, and it'd been a while since you'd been up there since patrons were more likely to pick one of your prettier and promiscuous fellow servers. You unlocked the first door at the top of the stairs, the captain following you in and looking around. You went to light the lamp nearby but he stopped you, he wanted it kept dark, and you were okay with that as you shut the door and walked up to him. You placed your hands on his collarbone, pushing aside his tattered sweater to touch his heaving chest, but he took your hand and simply kissed it before letting go.

‘No,’ was all he said, this wasn't the company he needed, and you nodded before climbing onto the bed and holding out the hand he'd kissed. He took it and climbed up after you, laying down and resting his head on your lap, and you brushed his windswept hair out of his eyes before getting caught slightly, it was a little too windswept.

‘Can I?’ you whispered, and he nodded before sitting up just enough for you to brush his hair carefully with your fingers.

‘She was only mine a few years,’ he confessed to you as you worked, and if you hurt him at all he never let it show. ‘I've been part of the Demeter's crew since I was a boy, picked up right off the docks of my home back in Poland, and ever since I stepped foot on that deck I knew I was home.’ He spoke so quietly, almost like he'd forgotten you were there, and you just kept brushing while he let it all out to you. ‘I knew better, but the storm was coming in stronger and the shore was in sight…’

He shuddered and you didn't say anything, just cooed comfort to him as you brushed out the last tangle and got him to lay against your chest. He was tall, curled up between your legs and still reaching the end of the bed, strong from working every day out on the sea, his facial hair scratching your arm as you kept brushing; he was intimidating, anyone else might've been too nervous to approach him based on looks alone, but you saw the real him, how much he was hurting over losing not his job or his ship but his home, and you couldn't help but press a kiss to the top of his head when he trembled again.

You didn't know how long you stayed there with him as he told you the same stories the others reminisced about downstairs, all of them from his point of view sounding so much more full of life if that were even possible, his voice so quiet and holding even more emotion than the others as they shouted and laughed so loudly you could still hear them through the floor. He was passionate about his time on the sea even when he was telling you about not just the good times but about all the bad times as well, the voyages that went wrong, the close calls, all of them dear to him just as much as the good ones.

The clock outside chimed loudly to signal the hour, you'd be closing soon, and you finally stopped brushing his hair as you shifted and got ready to finally speak; you stopped when you noticed that he'd dozed off, his tired eyes looking like he really needed the rest as he gently snored into your chest. You gave him another kiss, something so soft you were sure it wouldn't wake him, and he didn't even stir after so many years being rocked by the sea. You couldn't wake him, couldn't bring him back to his reality, and the longer you stayed the more you couldn't let this be the end for him.

Your co-worker unlocked the door and peeked in to look for you, obviously worried when you'd never returned, and you just placed your finger to your lips and shushed him as your captain lay there blissfully unaware. You motioned for him to come over, keeping your voice down as he leaned in. ‘Write to O'Brian, tell him I want to trade in that favour,’ you whispered, and he just nodded before running to find the quill and ink you kept in the office for end of the day tallies; you wouldn't let him give up after everything he'd been through, not when the others downstairs were counting on him.

You let him sleep for another ten minutes or so, long enough for you to almost join him, before waking yourself up and giving him a little nudge. ‘We have to close for the night, your crew might be waiting for you,’ you let him know softly, your voice still just barely above a whisper, and when he opened his eyes and gazed up at you you could've sworn he looked a little less lonely.

‘One more night to call me that, need to see if anyone needs a strong pair of hands tomorrow.’ He was still resigned to it, and you crossed your arms over his chest to keep him from leaving just yet.

‘Maybe good luck will come on the morning's tide,’ you promised as you brushed his bangs aside, and he held your hand in place, soft against his rough cheek and stubble, and for a moment the thought of him going back out there made you understand why people flooded to your bar after the boats left.

‘Maybe…’ He let go of you then so he could sit up, and he held himself so proudly you could finally see why he was made captain as he stood and looked down at you. ‘Thank you, for your time,’ he said as you also stood, the sounds of his crew heading out onto the street and calling for him the only reason you were both able to turn away from each other. You cleared your throat and gestured towards them, and you saw his eyes glance at the sea beyond the pane before he reached into his pocket and pulled out what little he had on him to hand to you.

‘I already said it was on the house,’ you reminded him quickly, but he shook his head and pressed the money into your hand.

‘A tip,’ he explained, and then he was gone, the gold weighing you down as you looked at all the money you usually strove after during your shifts. Your fist clenched as you then raced downstairs, the letter waiting to be signed by you on the bar, and you set down the coins before going to the stash you'd been collecting the entire day. You didn't answer as you were asked what you were doing, all of the money sliding into an envelope along with your letter after you'd added more details, and the entire crew was gone when you raced out onto the dark street.

He wouldn't be up but you could at least leave him this as you slipped the packed letter under O'Brian’s door, a talented but very thirsty shipwright who frequented your bar and often built up his tab with the promise of paying you back later, since he'd known you for so long. The letter promised his tab gone and free drinks for the rest of the year if he accepted your job, as well as all the money you’d made that day along with your final tip, and you hoped he would as you walked back to the bar and saw them all still celebrating what they thought was their final night on deck on what had to be the Demeter.

‘May you find good luck with the morning's tide, Captain,’ you wished him from the doorway, and you swore you heard his voice join in with the shanties before you headed inside for the night.

#Ray's Readers #Ray's Requests #david dastmalchian #Wojchek #mr wojchek #wojchek x reader

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sameheart-sameblood · 1 year ago

Text

Turn of the Tide

pairing: wojchek x f!reader

summary: wojchek discovers you've disguised yourself as a man to work aboard the demeter and agrees to keep your secret. he begins treating you different than the other crewmates and you confront him about his unfair behavior

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, mentions of reader's sad background, chest binding, fluff, me not knowing anything about ships and what happens on them

a/n: popping in to say i'm not dead, just depressed and busy lol. truly grateful to this character for pulling me out of my fic slump. im back to once again make a grumpy fictional man way softer than he was ever meant to be hahaha. also guess im obsessed with david dastmalchian now?? didn't have that on my 2023 bingo card tbh

read on ao3!

Sailors believe in many things. A red sunrise can send them into a panic, anticipating the swells and overbearing winds they’re so sure are to come. Red skies at night, however, can make even the most pessimistic crewmate believe there’s fair weather on the way. Captains refuse to set sail on Fridays, sailors place coins under the mast for good fortune and mariners daren’t whistle lest they summon a storm. Many vessels even have a cat aboard, the little creatures seen to bring luck (and sharp teeth to lessen the rat population).

Sailors believe in many things but above all they can agree that a woman on board is bad luck. Which seems silly to you because here you are, a woman who’s been on board The Demeter for many months now. Your presence had not brought ill fortune to the vessel. In fact, the weather had remained pleasant, despite the late summer month’s usual downpours and hurricanes.

Granted none of the crew knew you were a woman. You had disguised yourself as a man, hair cut short and chest bound tightly, but that didn’t change the fact of your sex. A life of adventure on the seas had always called to you but there was no possibility of you being granted work on a ship. The only woman allowed onboard was the carved wooden figurehead of a mermaid that decorated the bow of a vessel. There was no place for you at sea.

Not one to take no for an answer, you found your own way to get work as a sailor. You had spent time aboard trading ships, learning the ways of the trade and earning the trust of the men you crewed alongside. Your last posting had gone so well that the captain of that ship had recommended you to a friend for your next job.

That friend had turned out to be Captain Eliot of The Demeter. Captain Eliot and his First Mate, Wojchek, had asked you a few questions, all of which you answered confidently. The Captain was a kind man who remarked positively at your experience. The First Mate, however, was standoffish, challenging your every answer. Wojchek frowned slightly as the Captain offered you the posting and as they walked away you heard him mutter, “He’s too scrawny, Captain. He won’t be able to pull his weight.”

Captain Eliot had only chuckled, “I thought the same thing when I hired you. Look how wrong I was. You must learn to give people chances, Mr. Wojchek.”

While you appreciated the Captain’s confidence, you made it your mission to show this Mr. Wojchek just how mistaken he was. And for a time, your life aboard the ship was simple. You performed your duties well, befriended the men, took initiative and came to be seen as one of the more ambitious members of the crew. Even Wojchek had to admit, although never to your face, that your were one of the better sailors who had worked under him.

That good will you had earned was probably the only thing that kept the First Mate from throwing you overboard when he found out who you really were. Your secret was discovered when Wojchek had walked in on you unannounced and had discovered you securing your chest binding. After much fussing, he had threatened to toss you off at the next port.

You had pleaded with him to show some kindness and let you stay. Eventually, Wojchek reluctantly agreed to let you remain aboard but warned that he couldn’t help you if the rest of the crew found the truth about you. You had promised him that if you were discovered, you would never let on that he had been any the wiser.

The two of you came to an uneasy agreement and work continued, albeit now with a strained air between you. The men would often remark how the first mate would give you the hardest tasks. You had to agree with them. It did feel like Wojchek was taking out his frustration on you. After one particularly grueling day where he had assigned you to a back to back deck watch, you knew you had no choice but to confront him.

******

You find him in the tiny room assigned to the First Mate of the ship . It was one of the few luxuries he was given on the boat. Whereas you and the other sailors slept where they could in hammocks tied between posts and amongst the cargo, Wojchek had a tiny room all to himself. He even had a porthole, something he takes great pride in.

You hear him groan as you continuously knock on the door, disrupting his peace. Footsteps approach and the door squeaks open. Wojchek grimaces down at you.

“What is it, sailor?”

“I need to speak with you, sir.”

“I don’t have time. Neither do you. It’s nearly your watch.”

“I’m not due on deck for a good while yet.”

“We can talk later. Be on your way.”

He starts to close the door but you push against it, anger surging through you at his dismissal. You barge into his room, slamming the door behind you. Wojchek’s eyes widen for a moment, caught off guard by your boldness. But a moment later, he’s back to his usual gruff self. He glowers, backing away from you like you carry a disease he’s worried is catching.

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“It’s not a dirty word.”

“It is when you are disguised as a man on a ship. I’ve kept your secret and I’ll continue to do so. If any of the others were to find out, though…”

“I’ve been sailing with these men for nearly a year. They’re my friends but they’re not the most observant. I think my secret is safe. Besides, if they found out…” you lead off, shrugging your shoulders.

Wojchek’s face darkens at your blasé attitude. “You think these men are your friends? They would turn on you the second they found out the truth about you.”

“That’s not true,” you retort, “just because you hate me doesn’t mean they would.”

“When did I ever say I hate you?”

“You don’t have to. The way you treat me is proof enough. The others may not have realized I’m a woman but they have started to notice you seem to give me the worst tasks and the most watches. They know you don’t like me. Sooner or later, they’ll really try and figure out why. You might be the one that reveals my secret to them without meaning to.”

“I don’t hate you, I…”

He looks at you. Really looks at you, something he tried not to do very often once he noticed how catching sight of you made his heart skip a beat. His shoulders tense as he stares into your bright, vulnerable eyes, so out of place in a sailor.

“You have no idea what a life at sea does to you.” He anticipates the retort you have ready to throw at him and holds up a silencing hand, imploring you to let him finish. “You’ve been on The Demeter for almost a year. No small feat for anyone, man or woman. You’re a good sailor. One of my best. People like you all start out the same, hungry for adventure. They see a life sailing from place to place as an answer to all their problems. And for a time, they’re happy. But eventually, the work breaks you. It keeps you from your family, from your friends. People on land move on while you’re away for months, even years at a time. ”

Wojchek pauses, all the fight leaving him. “When you come back to port, you look for those who promised they’d always be there for you but one day they don’t come back. The ship’s arrival to land no longer brings hope and the sea can no longer mend the hurt that’s inside you. ” He lowers his gaze, perhaps remembering those whom he’s lost over the years.

“The light leaves the men’s eyes once they realize that their world has shrunk to the size of this ship. They have nowhere else they belong. It’s suffocating. They grow resentful. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to see the light leave your eyes.”

The whiplash of it all makes your head spin. You’ve been so convinced these last few months that this man hates you. Now he’s speaking to you more than he has this whole year. Not only that, it seems the worry over your wellbeing has cost him sleep. More so than a First Mate is supposed to spend worrying about a subordinate…

The light in your eyes? Honestly, you didn’t know that was something you possessed. Maybe a glint of steely determination but you would never have called it anything akin to hope. Your life had always been hard. Being born a woman made life a constant struggle. Being born a poor one made it near impossible.

Wojchek hasn’t moved, still close enough that you can feel the heat coming off of him in the crisp autumn night air that seeps through the tiny cracks in the ship. His eyes, however, keep jumping between your face and the floor. What he’s said has finally sunk in and along with it, his shame of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

You keep your voice low as not to scare him. Seeing the usual rock of a man so skittish makes you approach your next words with the same precision as someone handling explosives. “I was born in squalor to a family that saw my existence as nothing more than a burden. I spent most of my days wondering where my next meal would come from and if I’d have somewhere to sleep. I learned to deal with my lack of means. The thing I never could get over was the fact that I had no one in my life who cared if I lived or died.”

This is nothing you haven’t thought before but something about saying it aloud takes your breath away. A pressure grows in your chest as you fight the emotion that comes with revealing your own secrets. Wojchek doesn’t make it any easier, his once darting gaze now fixed intently on you. It’s your turn to avoid his dark eyes, staring at your shoes as you continue.

“I was never truly happy until I came on The Demeter. I have food, my own bed, purpose, adventure…friends,” the last word almost doesn’t make it past your throat, now tight with emotion. “I finally feel like I have a home.”

It’s only fair that you tell him the whole of your truth seeing how he’d kept your secret for the last few months. He deserves that much. The tension in the room swirls thick but you aren’t sure if it’s because the First Mate is preparing to send you away or not. You wouldn’t blame him if he did throw you off the ship. With you gone, everything could return to the way it was. It might be better for everyone.

You become lost in your own dark thoughts. Wojchek reaches out a hand, brushing your hair, shorn short and shaggy as part of your disguise, off of your face. You close your eyes at the touch, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers skimming so gently across your skin. All too soon, he’s pulling his hand away, remembering himself.

“The Demeter is also the only home I’ve ever known,” Wojchek admits, “It’s a good ship and she’s been strong and true to me. If you’re sure this is where you want to be then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

You nod your thanks, tears threatening to spill again at the relief of knowing you don’t have to leave. When they begin to roll down your cheeks despite your efforts to keep them hidden, Wojchek tuts softly, “Everything will be alright, kotku.”

You may not know the meaning of the word but you can understand from the tenderness in his eyes that it’s a term of endearment in his native tongue. The realization makes you bold.

“It’s not just the ship or the crew that make The Demeter my home. It’s you.” You force yourself to maintain eye contact with Wojchek, fighting the instinct to look away. The though that he may not return the strength of your feelings sends a shiver of fear through you but you need him to understand how you feel.

Wojchek searches your face for some deceit but finds only raw truth. He takes a step forward mere inches between you now. His hands twitch to reach for you again but he holds himself back. Above all else, Wojchek is a professional. Just because he thinks you want him doesn’t mean he’ll take the risk of abusing the power imbalance between you.

Instead, you take the initiative. “May I kiss you, Mr. Wojchek?” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper but he nods. You lean in, teetering on your toes, never realizing how tall he actually was until now. A particularly strong wave hits the ship and you lose your balance. Before you can lose your footing, he has you in his arms.

Wojchek hikes you up, bringing your face level to his. Years of working the ship have made him strong as an ox and he thanks the gods that he finally has good use for the muscles that hide beneath his tunic.

You press your lips to his and it takes you a few moments to remember to breathe. The kiss is trepidatious and sweet but leaves your stomach swirling with butterflies. Wojchek’s grip tightens on you, scared he’ll find that you’ve been some sprite in his dream that the morning sun will chase away. It feels good to be pressed together like this, limbs intertwined so you’re not sure where you end and he begins.

All too soon, he breaks away, gasping slightly. It seems you weren’t the only one who forgot how breathing works. The sight of the usually stern man so undone by a chaste kiss makes you chuckle. Your hand grazes his cheek, running over his stubble. It’s strange to remember that just an hour ago you were convinced Wojchek wanted nothing more than to throw you overboard. Now he’s holding you like he’ll never let you go. How quickly life can change for the better.

The tranquility is broken by the banging of Olgaren resonating through the wood of the ship. Your watch will soon begin and if you aren’t there to take your post, someone will come looking for you. The ship won’t sail itself and you sigh, realizing you can’t put off your responsibilities in favor of staying with Wojchek all night.

The First Mate groans, “Stay a little longer.”

“I’m late as it is!” You smile at his pout. It’s a new expression you’ve never seen from his before and you push him down onto his tiny bed, kissing him once again. Another bang resounds through the ship and you whine, getting back to your feet.

“I’ll make Abrams cover your watch.” Wojchek offers, staring up at you with comically pleading eyes.

“You’ll have a mutiny on your hands if you come between that man and his sleep. Besides, it’s only four hours. You can even come visit me on deck if you like. It’s single watch so there won’t be anyone around to wonder why we’re together.”

“Four hours?” he grumbles.

“You’re the one who assigned me double watch!”

Wojchek leans back, watching you button your jacket, trying your best to look presentable. He can’t help but smile at the commitment to your work ethic. “I’ll be up as soon as you relieve Olgaren.”

You nod, trying to remove the smile plastered on your face but failing miserably. Hopefully Olgaren is too tired to ask questions when he sees you. “See you soon.”

You’re about to open the door when you remember something. “What does kotku mean?”

Wojchek smiles, “Little cat.”

Once again you’re struck by the sweetness of a man so eager to have the world call him unfeeling. The nickname makes sense. You yourself believe that your presence seems to bring fair weather and good luck to the boat. The Demeter might not have a four legged feline to bring fair fortune but you’re the next best thing; positive, tenacious and willing to do anything for the good of the ship and crew.

You grin at Wojchek, who now lounges happily on his tiny bed, looking somewhat feline himself. “Are you sure you want to call me that? A ship can never be without a cat. It’s bad luck. You’ll never be rid of me.”

Wojchek smiles contentedly, blinking slowly, sleep seemingly not far off. The chances of him joining you on deck for the evening appear to be dwindling. You’d be devastated if he didn’t look so adorable. He nods, beckoning you for one last kiss goodbye. “Good. I’ll keep calling you kotku so we never have to be apart.”

******

#brb on my way to become a sailor so i can meet a grumpy first mate of my own #also it's criminal how little of wojchek was actually in the movie :/#wojchek x reader #wojchek x you #wojchek #last voyage of the demeter #allie writes

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