"It was the great escape, the prison break
The light of freedom on my face"
shanks x f! reader | chapter 1 | read on ao3
wc: 4.2k
For years you had been running one con after another, using your charms and your good looks to con bands of pirates out of their money. It was the only life you knew how to live, the only lifestyle you had held since going out on your own. The rush was always exhilarating as you fled from your victims, that night in Lougetown was just like any other, until you ran into him.
The first time you met Red Haired Shanks, you didn't know who he was and you had no idea of the ways in which he, and his crew, would come to change your life. But could you outrun years of instinct or were you doomed to repeat the same pattern you always did.
important: idk if i made it clear last part but this takes place shortly after Shanks looses his arm, when the crew re-enters the Grand Line so they are all younger than their modern-day counterparts and reader is a few years younger than shanks
also if ur name is molly, pls pretend it isn't x
You had no idea what a stowaway was the first time you felt the great sway of the seas underneath your feet. The first time you became one.
Adrenaline ran wild through your veins your entire way to the Red Port— you were almost free — the only step left was to find a ship. The task of finding a ship to board had seemed simple enough in your mind, but in practice it was harder than you had anticipated. Buying passage occurred to you, but it was too early to give up your position now.
In the low-light of the dead of night you looked for a merchant ship, one without the gaudiness of a celestial dragon nor the insignia of the world government. You chose the first one you found. Quickly and quietly, you hid before the crew boarded and made yourself at home in the belly of the ship. You were going to stay out of sight and only take what was necessary to survive. Relegated to the shadows, you missed the crew hoist a black flag on the masts once the Red Line disappeared from the horizon.
It was only when the ship docked and the crew had left that you found the flag. You stumbled back, in shock or terror, you weren’t sure, but it sent you back to the depths of the ship, where you remained for hours. Eventually, with the crew still gone, you departed the ship. Nearby you found a market and sold off some of the jewels you had taken from your family vault. You used that money to buy yourself some proper clothing and a place to stay for the night.
The next morning, feeling better with a proper bath you entered the town and the start of your new life……only you weren’t sure what to do or where to go. Looking at the port, you saw the flag that had sent you into hiding the day before. The answer felt clear. You returned to the only other place you had ever known.
With a lifetime of practice avoiding prying eyes, you had managed to stay hidden for months, through multiple islands. Each port would be a rinse and repeat of the first stop, always choosing the familiar over the unknown. The routine was comfortable.
Out on the waters, you would take some provisions when your supply ran low. On shore you would restock, constantly left in awe at how far a few measly jewels got you. You would pass the time exploring the ship, careful to never move anything from its place. At one port you had bought yourself a book whose pages quickly wore thin.
Eventually, you learned the voices and personalities of the members of the crew. The deep rich honey voice of the captain. The calm, even, feminine voice of who you thought was the first mate. Your perception of pirates changed as you got snippets of the crew from the places you hid.
You felt safe there, with them, but they didn’t know about you. It would only take one mistake, one mess up to blow your cover and put your safety at risk. That mistake came out on calm waters as the sun was setting one evening.
The weather had been unbearably hot, so you’d tucked yourself away at the highest point you felt comfortable, just to get some fresh(er) air. A gentle breeze had entered through the grated hatch above you, cooling you off. The sail air lulled you off to sleep. Then, a large rat ran across your body, waking you from your nap with a scream. Your hands flew to your mouth, but it was too late. The deck above you had gone still. Footsteps approached and you tried to strategize how to talk your way out of this.
The hatch above you creaked as it opened, you were frozen in place. Sunlight backlit a crouching silhouette, you blinked the figures into view. A man with dark hair, lively eyes, and the most charming smile you had ever seen looked down at you. “Looks like our little stowaway wasn’t a mouser after all.”
"Would you like some dinner, Miss?" A voice snapped you out of your memories and redirected your attention from the hypnotizing waves to reality. You turned to find a tall, rotund man with a beaming smile at your side.
As if on cue, your stomach growled and the man somehow smiled wider. "Come on, let's get some food in ya," the man said, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leading you off. "My name’s Lucky, or Lucky Roux if you wanna be fancy. I'm the cook on this ship, so let me know about any allergies or restrictions, okay?"
You nodded and let the man lead the way. As you approached the mess hall, sounds of laughter and conversation grew louder and louder. The noise quieted as you made your entrance.
"Oh great! We were just talking about you!" A man with a bandana that read "Yasopp" across his forehead exclaimed, his voice slightly slurred. The man promptly received a smack upside the person sitting next to him; a man with his blond hair in a topknot.
"All good things, of course," the captain clarified, before making room next to him and patting the opened spot. The amber light of the galley made his hair appear more orange and more like a fire. "Come, have a seat, meet the crew."
After a moment's hesitation, you take the seat next to him. Immediately, you are handed a plate with food piled high. A large glass of something with the smell of alcohol was pushed your way. To your relief, the pirates didn't all descend upon you asking questions. Hell, the promised introductions didn't even start right away. Instead, they let you eat your food in peace, returning to their previous conversation, explaining how you had met.
"You shoulda seen how she jumped from the roof! More agile than a tomcat, this one," the redhead grinned over at you. "Maybe that's what we'll call you, Tomcat," he said turning towards you. "Or do you prefer Little Stray?"
"Not a tomcat," you dismissed with a mouthful of food, leaving the question of the other nickname unanswered (you weren't about to admit liking that one). You swallowed and continued, "Besides, isn't that supposed to be your name, captain? Or are you more Captain Bleeding Heart?"
"I like Tomcat more, it matches," the man grinned toothily, for a moment you almost forgot that you were surrounded by pirates.
"If you're gonna flirt go do it somewhere else," one of them also slurred. You felt your face heat up as a blush painted your face and ears. Instead of giving any sort on response, you went back to eating your food.
"That's no way to treat our guest," the captain scolded him before returning to look at you. "Sorry, I thought I have them more house trained than that," he apologized. You snorted and he looked like you'd made his day with that single sound. "For pirates, they seem rather well behaved," you assured the captain.
"I'll take that as a compliment," the man with a bandanna, who you assumed was named Yasopp, responded. "Good, it was supposed to be," you informed him with a smile, picking up more food on your fork and bringing it to your mouth.
"Back to the matter at hand," the redhead said, reclaiming your attention. "Did ya think of something you wanted the crew to call you? I already got Little Stray and I'm not keen on sharing."
You paused for a beat, grateful to still be chewing as you thought of a new alias. Unlike normal, you had yet to think of a new identity. Truthfully, you had been planning on staying with the previous crew at least until you reached the Grand Line, but they had started testing your boundaries and needed to be put in their place, so you took their money and ran. "Molly," you said after a swallow, picking the female counterpart of a tomcat (at least one without kittens).
A man with a long black pony tail, cracked a small smile. It seemed that he knew what you'd done, but kept that knowledge to himself. The red haired one also recognized a lie when he saw it, but he didn't press it.
"Hold on," the man in the bandana said, horror entering his voice. "It sounds like you don't even know each other's names." You laughed at his concern. The redhead lit up with a playful expression.
"Well, we waited for the crew to make any introductions," the captain said, gently elbowing your arm as he spoke. You snorted. "We would've hated for you to feel left out," you joined in.
"That's beside the point!" The man in the Yasopp bandana said. "Do you even know who he is?"
"Nope, but don't worry, he did make sure that I wouldn't murder any of you in your sleep," you assured the man, almost gleefully. Several eyes went wide. The man in the black pony pinched his nose, like he dealt with these kinds of antics all too often. He must be the first mate, you mused.
The one who asked you the question practically threw his head in his hands. "...and you let her get on the ship...Oh, Captain," the man continued as if he didn't hear your response.
"It's not him we're worried about lass," a man with glasses and dragon tattoos told you at the same time. An amused, almost flattered smile graced your face.
"That's sweet," you started, waiting for the man to give you his name. "Building Snake," he said. "That's sweet Building Snake, but I can hold my own. Besides, life's more fun with a bit of mystery," you continued, wiggling your shoulders as if to make a point. The red haired man next to you laughed boisterously.
"You're gonna fit in just fine," the one with the black ponytail muttered, pulling out a cigarette with a sigh, one that was promptly knocked from his hand by the blond one with the top knot. You gave the ponytail man a strange look, you wondered if he knew that you were only seeking passage, but you shook that feeling off.
"But, I'd love to hear the rest of your names if you want to share," you proposed. And so, introductions began.
Beckman, or Beck, the man with the long ponytail was the first mate just as you had suspected.
Lucky, the cook, you had met before and had already decided that you liked him.
Yasopp introduced himself as if his name wasn't written across his forehead — jury was still out on if you liked him.
Hongo was the blond one with the top knot. He was the man who whacked Yasopp earlier and knocked the cigarette from Beck's hand. Apparently he was the doctor too.
Building Snake, or Snake, was apparently the navigator and he had tattoos of dragons covering each of his biceps.
Limejuice was another blond man, but he hid his starkly pale hair underneath a beret. You would remember his name, for it was rather...unique.
Bonk Punch, an imposing man who liked eyeliner, had an even more interesting name. His companion, a monkey named Monster, was cute, in a child-pretending-to-be-a-hardened-adult kind of way.
Howling Gab had a name that just seemed to fit his appearance, although his higher pitched voice did not. Right away you could tell he was a sweet man, almost certainly fitting into the "gentle giant" archetype.
The whole crew was apparently called the Red Haired Pirates, which rang a bell, but you weren't sure which one. Overall the crew seemed very nice. They spent the evening proving you to be correct — mostly. There were some comments about chemistry thrown around, but you brushed them off.
You wouldn't find out the captain's name until the next day.
Waking up mid morning, you found your way back to the galley, praying that they had coffee, a luxury out of the water. The smell promising the dark liquid greeted you as you entered. The cook, Lucky, gestured for you to have your fill and you smiled at him gratefully.
With a mug in hand, you made your way up to the main deck, taking a seat across from Beckman, who had discarded some pages from the World Economic Journal on the table. You picked up one of the discarded sections as the redheaded captain came to join your table.
Opening the paper, several bounty posters fell out, but only one of them caught your eye. A swath of bright red hair a few pages down in the stack, you pulled it from the pile. On it, underneath the large text that said "WANTED" was a picture of the man across from you. He was wearing a straw hat, which was missing from his current attire, but the rest was undeniably him. You hold up the poster for a comparison.
Both men stilled, awaiting your reaction. Beck slowly lowered his paper as if sudden movements would scare you. Shanks had frozen with his own mug of coffee inches from his lips. They were waiting for the other shoe to drop, only it never did. You didn't panic, instead you did quite the opposite. Your eyes flitted back and forth between the man and the poster, there was no denying that they were the same. You took a small sip of coffee and the men started to relax.
"Red Haired Shanks," you read, looking the man in the eyes. The name felt new but familiar on your tongue. "It fits you," you told him, taking another sip of your drink. You didn't see the way his cheeks tinted red at the comment, because you looked back at the poster and found the number on his head.
1.04 BILLION BERRIES.
Both men tensed once more when your eyes bugged out, they knew what you had just seen. Rather unexpectedly you relaxed — truly relaxed, not just as a facade — almost instantly and the men at the table breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Shanks," you said, trying out the name once more. "Tomcat's off the menu I fear, that's a much better name."
Neither Shanks nor Beckman were doing a good job hiding how shocked they were by your indifference to the bounty.
"Has anyone ever told you you photograph well?" you questioned Shanks in earnest.
The redhead across from you stammered, trying and failing to get out an answer.
"Does he act like this often?" You questioned Beck, who appeared to be enjoying his captain's reaction more than you were.
"Never," he replied. Shanks looked at his first mate like he'd been betrayed. Beckman, willing to stoke the flames more, continued. "Pretty women don't typically have him tripping over his words like that."
"Hmmm, that does wonders for my confidence," you hummed, pausing to look Shanks up and down, "To make a man like that act like this." You licked your lips.
"Can't say I blame ya," Beckman said, picking up his paper and you followed in suit.
Nothing like that morning happened again, or at least not for a few more days.
After four days at sea and four days of feeling like you weren't getting any closer to the Grand Line, you confronted Shanks. You found the man at the helm with Building Snake, right where you wanted him to be.
"I've got a question," you said, approaching the men with a clementine in hand. "Ahh, Little Stray. Was wondering when you'd find me," Shanks said with a warm smile, clearly not minding you interrupting the conversation he was having with his navigator.
"You make it sound like I've been avoiding you, or worse—you've been avoiding me," you said, tossing the fruit in the air. "Nonsense," Shanks dismissed, "Ask away."
"Is this ship like...extra slow or something?" You questioned, acting innocent and peeling your fruit. Shanks's smile dropped and he looked offended, so did Snake. "No," Shanks said with a furrowed brow and a slight edge. Men never did like it when you insulted their ship, but you never did like being led astray.
"Huh," you said sitting down on a nearby crate, removing the last of the peel. "Then why has it been four days with no sight of Reverse Mountain?" You popped a slice of the clementine into your mouth, waiting an answer.
"Ah," Shanks said with clarity. The tension the two men had held had dropped and Shanks's easy smile had returned to his face. "We've been taking the scenic route. Besides, look straight ahead."
You followed his advice and in the distance was the imposing, and rather fast approaching, Reverse mountain. The winds had picked up, like even they were insulted at your dig on the ship. Shanks grinned like a madman, "Better hold on tight, it looks like we're in for a ride."
Shanks was not wrong. Soon enough, you were in the throes of a storm, and not just any storm, but a storm at the mouth of reverse mountain. You were far from a landlubber, having braved the seas many times before, but this kind of turbulence was unlike anything you had seen before.
Rain came in never ending sheets and the waves themselves were violent as if the sea wanted you off of her back. Wind howled all around you as the band of pirates shouted to each other, they seemed to move in sync in ways that you hadn't often seen. Not since your first (and only) crew... You shook your head to get rid of the memories and searched for a place to bunker down in.
You weren't fast enough.
A wave from port side came and swept you off your feet. With nothing nearby to grab onto, you were fighting the waves and gravity in your effort to stand up. Almost standing, a harsh gale came and brought along another wave. You were sent toward the railing, which rather inconveniently, was missing a baluster, making it easy for you to slip out.
Shanks heard your cry before he saw anything. Instinct worked faster than mind and he dropped the rigging he was working on. With the practice of a lifetime on sea, he crossed the sloped ship dropping to a slide to grab you. His arm wrapped around your midsection and he reached his left arm out to realize that it wasn't there.
"Oh shit," he said. You heard the edge of panic in his voice and recognized the same thing he did. You wanted to laugh, but it was hardly the time. Your nails clawed at the deck, grasping for purchase on something, anything. A large part of you was hoping Shanks would let you go and save himself, but he didn't. If you were going down, he was going down with you.
Adrenaline kicked into overdrive. It was do or die time. Another wave pushed the two of you to the edge of the ship and by some miracle, you caught the railing by the tips of your fingers. Your grip held firm as you fought to stay tethered to the only sense of safety nearby.
Shanks was saying something behind you, but your ears were filled with water and you failed to hear it properly. A sudden upwards jolt, probably from him kicking off of something, gave you what you needed to secure both hands on the ship. With his help you managed to pull your bodies up on deck. That feat alone took over half your energy. A wave came crashed into the starboard side and leveled out the ship while pushing you to its center.
Shanks, who had somehow gotten up, grabbed you by your bicep and pulled you to your feet. The ship shifted once again and you found yourself stumbling into his chest, your hand reaching out just in time to stop you from breaking your nose.
"Come on," he said. The entrances to the lower decks were too far to guarantee there wouldn't be a repeat of what had just happened, but there were several crates secured firmly on the deck by the stairs, a perfect alcove for some sense of shelter. Shanks pulled you along to the small space. At least you didn't feel at risk of sliding off the ship and disappearing into the dark waters entirely.
"Are you okay?" Shanks shouted, water dripping down every surface so much so that he had to spit out what his nose had brought to his mouth. "Peachy," you shouted back in a similar manner.
The ship jolted again, this time Shanks was the one sent into you. He caught himself on the staircase behind you right before your heads could collide. The eye contact you made spoke volumes. He stayed there longer than he needed to.
Outside of the little alcove, the crew moved, continuing to deal with the storm along with the tumultuous waters of Reverse Mountain, but the two of you stayed in your own world, eyes locked.
The ship moved sharply once more. Shanks's elbow bent from the movement and his mouth collided with yours. Unable to do anything else, at the last moment you had tilted your head so at least your noses didn't smash together. Still, your lips touched. Accidental, sure but your heart still skipped a beat.
The rain died out and soon the only challenge at hand was just the mountain itself. Shanks took a step back from you. Both of you tried to pretend what had just happened had no effect on you.
Shanks used his already soaking wet shirt to try and dry his face, while you opted to physically push the water off. After some coughing, when your breathing became even enough, you asked him the question in the back of your mind the whole time.
"Why didn't you just let go? I mean when you realized you couldn't hold me and save yourself," you questioned, genuinely concerned for his sense of self-preservation. He just grinned at you.
"I promised you safe passage. It would be rather unbecoming of me if I were to let you drown," Shanks responded. "You could have died," you reminded him. "We would've figured something out," he shrugged. "You sound so confident, I almost believe you," you told him. He looked at you with a gaze that spoke volumes, only this time in a language you didn't understand. "One thing you ought to learn is that you should never doubt me," Shanks said with a boyish grin.
"In my experience, you should doubt every man," you grumbled, doing your best to wring your hair out. Shanks did not like the other experiences you spoke of.
"Maybe I'm not like other men," he said.
"I guess not," you confirmed, unable to deny that something between you two had shifted.
"Why don't ya go dry off and get changed, it'll be smooth sailing from here," Shanks said.
"We literally sailing up a mountain to plunge down the other side," you said, almost concerned for him.
“Nothing we haven't done before. Don't worry Little Stray. Didn't I say not to doubt me?"
You gave no comment nor rebuttal as you left for your temporary cabin.
Your entry into the Grand Line had been successful, now, all that was left was to pick a course. It wasn't until the log posse had been set that it was realized your next two islands were largely uninhabited and no place to leave you behind. So, your journey with the Red Hair Pirates continued. You didn't mind the detours and that was the scary part.
As the days passed you found yourself enjoying life upon the Red Force. After finding out that the meandering journey to the Line was to evade the marines, you found yourself more open to trusting them. The crew helped their cause along as well, always including and joking around with you.
Then there was Shanks. Ever since the storm he had started to look at you different in a way you couldn't explain. You weren't sure you were innocent of that yourself. There was no denying he was an attractive man, but you had been down that road before once and weren't eager to return. Yet, you were still drawn to him, often nearby because that was what felt right.
Night would fall and the men would collect in the galley, oftentimes before making their way to the top decks. There, the festivities would begin. You would be hard pressed to recall a time where you consistently had this much fun.
When the band of pirates loudly cheered at cheap card tricks and acrobatic displays, or when they fought for who you got to sit by during at dinner, you could almost trick yourself into believing that you belonged. That was dangerous. From then on you followed a new rule: Do not get attached, but that was always easier said than done.
a/n: yipee another one done!!!
now ik i said i had this mostly planned out and written (and i do), but i just looked at chapter three and it just said "GIRL WRITE THIS" so uhhh it might be a bit 😭
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For years you had been running one con after another, using your charms and your good looks to con bands of pirates out of their money. It was the only life you knew how to live, the only lifestyle you had held since going out on your own. The rush was always exhilarating as you fled from your victims, that night in Lougetown was just like any other, until you ran into him.
The first time you met Red Haired Shanks, you didn't know who he was and you had no idea of the ways in which he, and his crew, would come to change your life. But could you outrun years of instinct or were you doomed to repeat the same patter you always did.
inspired by the song Getaway Car by Taylor Swift
You got it.
Finally.
The weight of it — along with all of the berri you could carry — in your bag offered comfort as you ran over the spotless rooftops. You thanked your foresight for swapping your gown for a pair of pants, you couldn’t imagine fighting all of that fabric as you hopped over shingles like a tomcat supposedly would.
The crisp night air and increasing sea breeze blew through your hair and chilled your skin, but somehow you didn’t seem to mind. Your legs carried you as fast as they could, ignoring all protest from your burning lungs. Adrenaline coursed through your blood, compensating for the fact that you were woefully unprepared for this feat. Then you saw it, the harbor.
Freedom.
~~~~~
You weren’t sure why that memory came back to you as you ran through the streets of Louguetown, but the thought brought a smile to your face regardless of small band of pirates on your tail. You may or may not have swindled their captain for all he was worth and drained their coffers, but that was just the name of game. It wasn't your fault that these lonely sea men were quick to fall for your charms, but wow did you benefit from it. You laughed in joy as you adjusted the heavy bag of newly acquired coins at your hip.
More than ready to put this little chase to an end and secure a new way into the Grand Line, you ducked into an alleyway and climbed onto the nearest rooftop. You used the line of stores as stepping stones to the next roof as you ran along the street. Unfortunately, these particular pirates were not as easy to shake as you had hoped, and the last thing you wanted was a fight, so you changed your strategy.
Instead of trying to slink away undetected, you made your movements loud and obvious, garnering their attention. Speeding up, you moved towards the sea, the most obvious dead end. Once you were out of their sight you hid behind a smokestack as they passed by. You snickered to yourself as you heard their assured directions and vindictive cries.
Not one to waste time, you dismounted the roof into a back alleyway via dumpster. As you dusted yourself off you felt a presence, then, you heard a whistle.
“What a show,” the voice of a man said, impressed. You turned around to find the silhouette of a tall man in a cloak that.
“What are you doing?” You questioned him as if he had dropped down from above near you and not the other way around.
“Well, I was going back to the bar after taking a piss, but this is much more interesting,” he said with a grin, gesturing towards you and the general direction you had appeared from.
The man took a docile step towards you and you were shocked to see hair so vibrantly red in the lowlight. With him better in view you took a moment to examine him past his outline. The shadows made it tricky but it looked as if he had a scar over his left eye. Dare you say that he looked familiar, but you could not place him.
His gaze looked you up and down in turn. He took in your appearance, noting how berri poke out of your cleavage and a weirdly bulky bag tied at your hip that no doubt contained jewels.
“So,” he started casually before taking on a slightly more playful tone, “What’s got a beautiful woman acting like a stray in the night?” His eyes darting briefly once more to the rooftop you had dismounted from.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” you said curtly as you adjusted the bills tucked in your shirt, hiding them from view. His grin only grew. “Maybe not, but can’t fault a man for his curiosity.”
“Haven’t you heard that curiosity killed the cat?” Your patience for the man was growing thin; you were not one for unexpected guest appearances during your getaway. “Haven’t you heard that cats have nine lives?” He retorted with a step forward and a sparkle in his eye, clearly enjoying the banter while all you wanted was to leave.
“And I’d reckon a tomcat like you doesn’t have many of those left.” Your eyes fell to scar on his face, newly defined in this light. The man laughed. “Tomcat, eh? Interesting coming from the one was jumping rooftop to rooftop a minute ago,” he stepped even closer as he spoke while still leaving a respectable distance between you two.
“Felt more befitting of someone on the prowl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be off.” You side stepped the man and make to leave. You had just about reached the mouth of the alley before his voice rang out and threw you off your game.
“At least let me buy you a drink.”
“Not happening,” you dismissed, not looking back despite the fault in your step. For the time being, your only priority was getting the hell out of Louguetown and continuing on.
“I dunno, I’ve been told I’m great company. Plus, I can guarantee your safe passage into the Grand Line. That is where you’re headed next, yeah?” he enticed. You thought about it harder. On second thought, you could use a drink.
~~~
You let the man with the red hair, whose name you still had yet to learn, lead you to a crowded pub; he even went as far as to hold the door open for you as you entered, far more well-mannered than the usual folk you ran with. From there he lead you to the bar top, pulling out a stool for you to sit on, a gesture that made you raise your brow.
“What’s the matter, darling?” He questioned you. “Nothing, just a bit surprised,” you said, still standing. “That I know how to treat a lady?” He questioned, filling in the gap in your words, clearly amused. Eyes skeptical, you took a seat, neither confirming nor denying his assumption. “Rest assured that I am nothin’ if not a gentleman,” he said as he pushed in your stool with ease. “Just not something I’d expect of a pirate,” you admitted as he took the seat next to you.
“Ahh, so you recognize me?” He said with a near smirk and—you surely must be mistaken—a hint of relief. “Not at all,” you responded passively. I just know your type, was the part that you didn't say. But, you couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity with the man. He looked almost taken aback by the response before he quickly masked it and switched gears.
“What would you like? My treat,” he offered as he turned to face the bar top. “Whatever you’re having,” you told him. You could tell a lot about a person by their drink of choice, and you knew next to nothing about the man who had just offered you safe passage into the Grand Line, which happened to be the best place your gambit . Frustratingly, instead of flagging down the bartender and ordering his ale of choice, the man had seemed to take your indifference as a challenge.
The man’s eyes squint as he examines you with a playful scrutiny, absorbing your still slightly disheveled appearance as he tried to draw a verdict. Ultimately he flagged down the bartender and ordered two old fashions which were made at impressive speeds.
“This does not seem like your type of drink,” you commented honestly, taking the glass as it was placed in front of you and swirling it around. ”I figured you wouldn’t be one for bottom shelf grog,” he replied with a crooked grin. You hummed in response, taking a small sip of your drink. Old fashions had been a favorite of your fathers and therefore had garnered your distaste, but you had to admit it wasn’t that bad all things considered.
“So, about that safe passage…” you prompted. “Are you always this eager to talk about business?” The man questioned. “I am when my welfare is on the line,” you responded flatly.
“I s’pose that’s fair,” he chuckled taking a drink before asking a question. “Wondering what’s the catch are ya?” The man set his drink down, fingertips resting on the glass’ rim and turned toward you. “What d’ya got to give?”
You held back a scoff, not particularly enjoying what he had just implied. The raffish redhead had licked his lips while he’d tried to hide how his eyes grazed over your body. The casual manner in which he had said it also got on your nerves. You had thought he’d seemed like a decent, honorable man (or rather decent enough and honorable enough), but apparently not.
Still, you needed passage and this was your cheapest lead…unfortunately. You did not walk off like he deserved, but your fist did clench under the countertop in resistance. While you had hoped for a misunderstanding, you remained realistic in the matter, it was what men did after all.
“What are you suggesting?” You did your best to mask the scorn in your tone, but after the impression that you had just received — that he had hoped for you to whore yourself out for safe voyage — it was hard to not bite back. “Need I remind you that it was you who offered me.”
“Well, I was hoping for a story,” the man said simply with a lopsided smile, as if he were trying to smooth over any misconceptions without addressing them. When you still looked skeptical he kept going. “I mean it, a story is all I ask.” “A story?” You questioned, a bit bewildered. “A story,” he confirmed. “That’s it? No catch?” You interrogated. “That’s it, no secret agenda cross my heart,” he swore mimicking the action.
You nodded, pondering the offer, but quickly agreed. Although you were sure the story he wanted was the one that would explain your sudden descent from the rooftops, that was not the one you gave him. Instead, you very loosely recounted the tale of Rapunzel, a childhood fable you held dear to your heart. You had often dreamed of being set free from your own tower, but luckily that wasn't something you had to worry about anymore— it hadn't been for a while.
You didn't expect the best reaction to your antics, but to your surprise the man laughed, slamming his hand on the table.
“Oh I like you,” he declared after you had finished, his grin near wolfish.
“Is that a threat?” You questioned, downing more or your drink, nose crinkling at the burn of the alcohol.
He shrugged, “It’s what you make of it, but I s’pose you fulfilled your end of the bargain—“ He paused, cutting himself off once the bartender was in view and ordering another round for the both of you.
“I hope you know Captain that I am not paying,” you said, readjusting the money hidden in your bust line once more. “What kind of man would I be making a lady pay for her own drinks after I asked her?” He questioned in mock offense.
"Chivalry is not the first character trait I would associate with you," you said dryly, thinking of all the pirates you had known before. "Oh darling, you wound me," he pressed his hand over his heart in yet another over the top display of theatrics. You rolled your eyes and finished your drink. He was amusing you would give him that.
"What reason would a stray have to play nice with a stranger?" You retorted, grinning for the first time — something that did not slip past the man. [That was your first mistake. You had inadvertently shown him that there was a way in, past your defenses constructed out of necessity. A crack in your facade that would grow to be catastrophic.]
"Not so much a stranger, eh?" The man said, sliding one of the fresh drinks your way as he continued, "Not when you're 'bout to be venturing into the Grand Line on my ship."
"You mean you'll give me passage?" You questioned, accidentally allowing your eyes to glimmer with hope.
"I said you held up your end of the bargain, didn't I?" He said as he started on his Nth drink of the night. There was a moment's pause, as if he was examining you, not outwardly, but you could just tell. Whatever he had found had seemed to be enough for him.
"We leave in the morning. My ship is at the port just south of here. Look for a red dragon as a figurehead and if all else fails, search for a Jolly Roger that looks like me," he said motioning to the three lines scaring his eye with three fingers.
The playful glint in his eyes grew brighter. "You're welcome to leave and just meet us in the morning, but I would love it if you would stay for another round or two— no ulterior motives either."
Despite not having yet touched your second drink, you agreed to stay. [That was your second mistake. An action that would lead to your life being forever changed.] You knew you shouldn't have but you found yourself unable to resist.
As the night continued on you came to recognize how charming the man could be, and how annoyingly attractive he was. Not that either of those weren't glaringly obvious. But because of it, an idea started to developed in your mind. Just how easy it would be to weasel your way into the flirt's heart. You had done a lot of things to play the part in the past. What scared you was that you could see yourself meaning it.
Perhaps that was just the remnant hopelessness romantic in you, the leftovers of a childhood spent alone and too in your head, back before you had to learn the harsh truth of the real world. At least that was what you would tell yourself.
~~~
Come morning, you found yourself at the docks searching for a ship matching the description of the one the redheaded man had given you last night — a dragon figurehead and palm trees, quite hard to miss— and, he was right, it took you all of two minutes to find the vessel. It was only then, looking up at the massive ship, that you realized you had yet to learn the captain’s name.
A man with lettering on the bandanna wrapped around his forehead spotted you, you watched as he retreated to the center of the ship, likely alerting the captain. Your suspicions were proved correct when bright red hair greeted you on the other side of the gangplank.
“G’morning!” He cheered, unusually chipper for the morning after the sorry state you had seen him in the night before. “Was wond’rin’ if you’d show after ya disappeared last night.” In the midst of his heavy drinking you had slinked off into the night to get some much needed rest, and by then you trusted him enough to hold up his end of the bargain. A drinking game or two had shown you that he was nothing if not a man of his word.
To your relief, he made no effort to introduce you to his crew, and they had made no move to approach you as they moved about preparing to set off to sea. The crew was much more efficient than you had given them credit for, and in under ten minutes you were exiting the bay out in the open waters.
Not long after, the red-haired captain found you and offered to show you to where you would be staying. You accepted and followed him into the depths of the ship, and to your surprise the room he revealed was rather sizable. It was clear that it hadn't been used in a while, but it far exceeded your expectations.
"That door over there is a small bathroom so you can have some privacy," the man said as he held the door open for you to enter. "Other than that, you should be able to find everything you could need, but if not, don't be afraid to ask."
The captain lingered in the doorway as you took in your temporary room. "One more thing," he said, lingering in the doorway "You're not gonna kill us all in our sleep right?"
You silenced a snort. "Funny you didn't ask that question before letting me board your ship and taking me out to sea."
"What can I say? I got a bleeding heart and a penchant for taking on strays." His response made you crack a smile, [which was a victory in his books]. "Well, I'll leave you to it," he said, tapping the doorframe before pushing away from it, not yet leaving. "Word of advice, don't stay hidden in here the whole time. Crew's a curious and'll come looking, I'm one man I can only do so much to stop them," he said as if it were beyond his hands. Something told you that he would only encourage it if given the chance.
He turned to exit, taking two steps before backtracking. "Also, think of something you'd like us to call you. I already have dibs on Little Stray, but the rest of the crew's gonna want something."
You shut the door in his face, watching his smile grow as it closed. Once you were alone, the first thing you did was check the room for anything unusual, strange holes in the walls (or floor), bugs (both kinds), or stains on the sheets. When everything came back normal you breathed a sigh of relief. The second thing you did was hide your score from the last band of pirates you had sailed with.
Not because you didn't trust this new crew, rather because you had no reason to trust them. Hell, you hadn't even met them.
Then you did the only thing you could do; pray that you wouldn't regret the decision of taking passage from a group of strangers — pirates at that.
But it was far from the first time you had done that.
Chapter II: The Light of Freedom
hiiiiii!!! i am trying something new, once again, i started this back in january and wanted to wait until it was completed to start posting it but i could no longer help myself lol. life is busy and i have other works so idk how often i can update this, but the whole story is mapped out, it just needs to be ironed out and stitched together
tysm for reading! have a great day/night and be sure to drink some water 💕
so i posted something on ao3 if anybody's interested, it's based off of the song Is It Over Now? by Taylor Swift. it's half angst half smut and i really like it
summary:
Shanks had lost the one thing he'd never thought he'd lose; you. You'd left like a ghost in the night, never giving him a reason why. When he saw you again in a bar, years later, he couldn't help but wonder is it over now?
uhh this gets really dark...and violent, im sorry guys 🧍♀️ but also, the red hair pirates love you very <3
masterpost
first part | previous part
shanks x afab! reader (she/her) | lovers (intimate) to lovers (romantic)
tags: ANGST, like so much of it. comfort too i suppose, but the suffering comes first
tw: graphic violence, ptsd, celestial dragons as their own warning,
wc: 3.7k
a/n: sorry that this wasn't as fast as i said it would be, currently in one of those phases where i hate everything i write, but i refuse to give up (for once). this one is dark but also kinda sweet, really only towards the end
summary: Luckily, you manage to make a near full recovery, to celebrate you go walk around town. At the small local market, you spot someone you thought you would never see again, and you see red.
Following the incident, you recovered faster than anyone would have dreamed, regaining consciousness in a little over a day and a half from arriving on the island. But with consciousness came boredom, and soon you were restless.
Although you were never alone, someone was always at your side; be it Yasopp with his epic tales, Beckman letting you do the puzzles in his copy of the WEJ (World Economic Journal), Limejuice catching you up on the gossip of the crew and town, even Monster had tried to sneak in a few times, but the monkey was promptly stopped by Hongo, and no amount of sulking could get the doctor to let the animal in. The crew had been doing the best they could to keep you entertained. Hell, the boys had even brought in a card table the past two nights to play with you.
Still, it wasn't enough. You hated being confined more than anything, but even you had to admit that moving was a bad idea. At least it had been at first. Steadily, you began to heal, and soon it felt excessive to be confined to bed nearly every waking hour. And to have someone with you at all times to "take care of you" was getting way too old.
It had taken you fifteen hours after waking to start asking to leave, and it took over four days to Hongo to relent. The doctor only agreed on the condition that he came with you. Beckman had also insisted that a few others tagged along as well. You weren't fully sure why you needed what felt like a security detail, but at that point, you were willing to accept any conditions just to get out of there.
With a fresh change of clothes, ensuing a bath back on the Red Force, you felt ready to go out in public, no longer looking like (nor smelling like) the brink of death. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your coat and left your small room.
Back on land, you met up with the pirates tasked with keeping you company, and you greeted them with joy, eager to finally be on the move again. A part of you was a bit disappointed that Shanks wasn't there to go with you; you had been bummed to wake up and learn that he was away, but once the circumstances were explained, you'd understood perfectly. It was still unclear when he would return, but you were more eager for his arrival than you would care to admit. You had a hazy memory of a promise to explore, one that sounded an awful lot like a date, and you were holding out hope for it.
"Ready?" Hongo asked with a straight face. The way that you beamed at him sent the corners of his mouth upwards. He wasn't the only one happy to see you in good spirits; the rest of your entourage was too. They all knew that Shanks would be relieved and elated to see you so energetic when he returned.
"Have I ever," you said with a wide smile, looking at the small crowd: the doctor, Limejuice, Rockstar, Lucky Roux, and Dime. "This everyone?" Your question was confirmed by the doctor. "Sorry to drag you all out with me; I'm sure you have things you'd rather be doing with your time." You made your apology, rocking on the balls of your feet in anticipation. A resounding dismissal of your apology came from the pirates, which made you feel a bit lighter.
The sun was out, and the sky was clear. You took a moment to appreciate the nice weather. It felt so good to feel the sun's warmth on your skin again after all this time. However, it didn't last for long; you weren't there to stand around, so you set off on your adventure.
~~~
After a bit of aimless wandering through the town, you'd stumbled upon the market square, and your eyes lit up. It had been exactly what you'd been hoping to find. The past hour and a half had been spent admiring the handcrafted items for sale and happily conversing with the locals.
At one point, you had wandered off when a vendor selling a rare fruit that was your favorite from childhood caught your eye. Eagerly, you talked with the vendor about where they got the fruits, only to learn that they were native to the island. The fruit vendor was even as kind to let you have one for free, an offer which you accepted while leaving a couple of berries deep in the produce for them to find later. You were even pleased to find the pirates you came with buying the fruit to try.
As you wended off to the next booth, it didn't escape you that Lucky doubled back to the fruit vendor only to slip away afterwards. You didn't have to think hard about what he was up to. Early on, you had learned that none of the Red Hair Pirates were particularly good at surprises or keeping things secret, but you liked to play along because it made them happy. The crew had long since weaseled their way into your heart, and at this point, you would do anything for these men.
While wandering, several items had caught your eye, gifts for certain members of the crew: a wooden bird for Gab (or birdie as of late), new sunglasses for Limejuice because his had broken after he'd thrown them following a loss at cards, a local cookbook for Lucky, and a few other small things. The sunglasses you passed off to Lime right away, as he had stated he felt "naked without them", but you decided to keep the rest a secret until you had something for everyone on the crew. Eager to show off the new glasses (and declare that he was your new "favorite"), Limejuice brought the small haul you had accumulated back to the Red Force.
The whole afternoon you had been smiling brightly. It had been years since you'd felt this carefree, but all of that came crashing down when you turned a corner. A man with a face you could never forget was in the crowd.
There he was, walking around carefree, like he wasn't some monster. Time had not been kind to him. His once-blond hair had grayed horribly. The strands clung to his features, weighed down by days of sweat, dirt, and oil. Sunspots littered his skin, and he had a new scar marring his face. Still, there was no mistaking his identity.
The man who had once tormented you while you were helpless. The one who had taken great pleasure out of causing you misery. Terror and dread filled your bones, only to be instantly overpowered by rage.
The man, whose name you had never learned, caught sight of you staring at him and gave you a polite smile. His teeth were crooked in the same way they had been when they'd been all those years ago. Back when they had worn a cruel smirk like it was a uniform. Absolutely no sense of recognition passed through his eyes. Someone who had made sure you would never forget them had no recollection of you.
You saw red.
As if blind to your surroundings, you stormed over to the man. A wave of controlled conqueror's haki escaped you as you felt an anger unlike any you had felt in years. People stumbled away from you, but you didn't even notice. Without a thought, you grabbed him by his thinning hair and dragged him into the nearby forest with no destination in mind other than far away from people.
Hongo, one of your remaining chaperones, didn't know what was happening. Although, he could make an educated guess. The doctor sent the other men back to The Force, instructing them to alert the Shanks, who would hopefully be back by now, of the situation. Not willing to leave his patient, or friend, alone at a time like this, Hongo followed you.
You were unsure how long or how far you had walked, pulling the man along with you while ignoring all of his cries and curses. You knew that Hongo had been following you the entire time, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Your only priority was dealing with this monster, as far away from civilians as you could.
Upon reaching a sizable clearing, you shoved the scumbag to the ground. "Ow! What the fuck, you stupid bitch? Didn't you hear me screaming at you to stop?" The man exclaimed, pulling himself up on all fours. It was rather ironic; you felt like you could have asked him the same question all of those years ago. His breathing came in heavy pants. He clearly was not used to working out nor walking as far as you had brought him (more like dragged).
"Answer me, you whore!!" He shouted as he reached for your ankle.
When he made contact with your skin, spine-chilling needles-like tingle ran through your whole body. Without a thought, you gave him a kick to the face, coupled with the full unleashing of your [haki]. He collapsed to the ground, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. He spat out a tooth before falling unconscious.
~~~
Shanks felt a great sense of relief when he arrived back at Sunwarf. He had been gone far longer than he had hoped for and was tired from his travels. Who knew solo sailing with one arm could be so taxing? He was looking forward to a nice nap in his own bed, but he had a duty to uphold first.
The redhead went off to find his first mate. All had gone well, but he owed the man a debrief at least. Plus, he wanted to hear about your condition. He had received no updates while away and had figured that no news was good news, but still he needed to know. Hopefully he would be able to see you before he passed out for the next twelve or so hours (this time from exhaustion and not from booze).
It didn't take long for Shanks to come across the gray-haired man or to tell him that everything had been dealt with. Before Shanks could ask about you, a surge of haki washed over the island and both men paused. It was distant, but it was there. There was a familiarity he had with it too, but he couldn't quite place where.
At the same time, both Rockstar and Dime came running back to the ship. They tried to explain what had happened, talking over each other as they did so. The tale struggled to come through and all Shanks had gathered was you were at the market.
The joy Shanks felt knowing that you were well enough to be out at the market was short-lived given the current situation. Then he realized why the haki had felt familiar, it was yours. He took off before either of the two men could finish what they had been saying .
~~~
The forest surrounded you as you paced the perimeter of the clearing, hoping to pull your scrambled mind back together — that turned out to be a bad idea. Suddenly conscious and moving, the man came lunging at you with a weapon from behind. One swift kick to the wrist was all it took to disarm him. Another kick sent him flying back.
He climbed to his feet, staggering as he tried to understand what had just occurred. Your mind was now remarkably quiet. You were laser-focused on your target, like a predator to prey. The fear that flashed through his eyes brought you more joy than you wished it had.
Shanks had run a sizable distance before he'd spotted you. Wordlessly, he dismissed Hongo, who left in silence, and assessed the situation. He was aware that there was only one thing that you would act like this: vengeance. Although Shanks did not recognize the man, he must have been someone from your past. Shanks chose not to intervene; it would be cruel of him to avenge you when you were more than capable of doing so yourself. Unless your life was at stake, he would not intervene, but he would remain nearby.
Rather surprisingly, you did not notice his presence or at least didn't acknowledge it, but the other man did. Hope blossomed in his eyes when he spotted the yonko. "Please help me! This crazy bitch attacked me out of nowhere!" In the man's mind, Red Hair was the protector of the island and therefore should protect him as well.
The man's sudden plea for help alerted you to Shanks's presence. He was back. Without your permission nor your realizing, your body relaxed. Shanks shook his head, almost imperceptibly, reminding you that it was not the time for reunions, and he was right. It almost annoyed you how you had reacted, but you brushed it off in favor of the task at hand.
Fourteen years since you had last seen the man still groveling for Shank's help. Fourteen years the pain and anger had festered. Not once since Shanks had arrived did the man look at you. Needless to say, being ignored was not sitting right with you. You picked up the knife you had forced him to drop.
"You're dealing with me," you reminded the man as you held the knife to his throat, firm enough that a line of red ran parallel to the blade. Only then did he get a good look at you, and, finally, the look of recognition hit.
He laughed. A laugh laced with malintent. The twisted grin that had haunted you on and off for years lit up his face. You had to fight back memories to not lose focus.
"I was just looking for you, Princess," he said, all but spitting out the words. That information took you by surprise, enough that he used the moment to wiggle his way out of your grasp and create some distance. Inexplicably, the man's hubris grew upon realizing who you were.
"Did you know this whore is nothing more than a lowly slave?" He questioned Shanks, as if that would change anything. He'd said it seeming almost giddy to be sharing the information. His eyes switched back to you, in a clear attempt to intimidate you with his next words. "I could kill her now and nothing would happen to me —if anything I would be thanked. Maybe not by the Celestial Dragons who own her, but definitely by the men on my crew. We've talked a lot about what we'd do if we ever saw her again. I am very excited to have the honor. A simple death would be too kind.
"In fact," he continued, holding onto the word. The man inched closer to you, drawing a new weapon. "I have a lot worse planned for you—“
You didn't let another word escape his lips. No, instead you pounced. The man tried to defend himself, slashing at you with his short sword, but you just parried the attacks. Disarming him once more, both of you watched the weapon go flying across the clearing. Then you realized something.
That was your sword.
The sword that you had carried around everywhere from the day you had gotten it as a gift from your father to the day you had been taken.
Unfortunately, finding what had been your most prized possession for many years had distracted you once more. The man approached you with full confidence and decked you in the face. Your head turned sharply when his fist connected with your jaw. You froze, blinking twice. The unmistakable metallic taste of blood invaded your mouth, and you spat it out. Then you smiled, a deranged smile, one that sent a chill up the man's spine. A wave of conqueror's haki took him to the ground. His survival instincts seemed to have been invoked for the first time.
The man clobbered to retrieve the sword, realizing he needed to be armed to stand a chance. You simply followed him, at a steady, deliberate pace. Right before his fingers could grasp the hold, you threw his knife. It landed squarely in the back of his hand with enough momentum to pin it to the ground. The man howled in pain, trying to get the knife out and free his hand.
You ignored him entirely and slowly picked up the sword inches from his face, feeling it for the first time in many, many years. Despite the near decade and a half you had spent without it, it still maintained a sense of familiarity. It felt like home. Your thoughts were cut short when the man managed to free the knife from the ground, but leaving it in his hand.
Springing up, the man put an impressive distance between the two of you, drawing a whip from his belt. Something that was also familiar to you. He loudly cracked the whip as he unfurled it. The sound made you wince. It was a sight and a feeling you remembered all too well. One you had tried hard to forget.
At some point, shortly after you had been kidnapped, while you were still unconscious, the crew had reportedly done a thorough examination of you. They had found your "purity intact," something they guarded, despite the threats they made, as it made you more valuable. They had told you as much. But they had also found that your body was covered with small scars, most from training to be a warrior.
When your kidnappers realized that you were a princess and the subject of an international search, instead of expediting the process off-letting you, like would be smart, they had chosen to wait it out. The headache that they had given themselves with that choice had made them mad. The man in front of you had been the angriest. That anger had to be directed somewhere. They had decided that as long as the injuries healed and the scarring was "minimal," physical punishment would be allowed. Somehow, you were one of the lucky ones.
CRACK!!!
The scars on your back stung. Incoherent flashes of nameless, faceless victims appeared in your mind’s eye. You stood your ground, but you were shaken.
"The little princess remembers this one, doesn't she?" The man said mockingly. He punctuated his words with yet another flourish of the whip. It was unbalanced as he was now using his uninjured, non-dominant hand, but the point had been made.
Dodging the whip was easy work, but closing in the distance to attack back was not. The man chose to go on another monologue while you contemplated ways to close the gap. "This whip used to be my favorite weapon, but a beautiful, well-crafted sword took its place. That blade has severed me well over the years. Very helpful in dealing with problem.....product, so to say."
His words hit you exactly as intended — the thought of a gift you had gotten so innocently being used in the slave trade made you want to vomit — but you had to push that aside as you had discovered your way in. You didn't dodge the next strike; instead, you let him hit your forearm, allowing the tail end to wrap around your limb. Then you wound the whip around your arm further before ripping it from his grip entirely. Thank god/the seas that you were wearing a coat.
The man stood there speechless while you threw the whip far behind you, and, like a wild animal cornered, he became desperate. With a sickening sound, he yanked the knife out from his hand, slashing it around. When that didn't work, he threw at you. It missed. His one line of defense, gone. He ran after the knife, the whip, something. Yet it had all been in vain.
As he passed by you crouched down, kicking your leg out and tripping him. He tumbled to the ground face first, and you wasted no time incapacitating him, cutting the back of his ankle, slicing clean through his achilles tendon. No more running, no more tricks. He wouldn't be getting anywhere anymore. Not that you would have ever let him.
The man screamed in pain. Utilizing his uninjured arm and leg, he lugged his body in the direction of the knife. You followed behind him. Upon reaching the weapon, he turned around with the small blade in hand. He tried to retaliate from the ground, but you were out of reach.
Towering above him, your body shook in a barely controlled anger. Years worth of pain and anguish was boiling within you. All you wanted was for this to be over with, but first you had something you needed to do.
You glanced sideways towards Shanks, making sure he was listening. You were about to ask some questions and didn't want a single word to go unremembered. His attentive stare told you that hadn’t been something you’d needed to worry about. You nodded, preparing to finally end this.
"You're going to tell me what I want to know and you're going to tell it to me now."
"LIKE HELL I WILL," the man bit back, refusing to accept that he had already lost. But that was fine. You would just make him see. There was a satisfying snap that came when you kicked his wrist, sending the knife out of arm’s reach. You climbed on top of the man, straddling his abdomen. One hand pinning his injured one above his head and the other pointing your sword at the bottom of his chin.
"You will if you want to live," you coaxed, the unmistakable heavy presence of haki emphasizing your words. From the sidelines, Shanks noticed the quiver in it that you were trying to hide. He knew you hated what you were doing. "Tell me about your crew, where are they now?"
The man's eyes were wide. He would never betray his brethren, but from the look in your eye, he could tell that you weren't kidding. Then he started talking, first it was crew members he didn't like, and the tip of your sword went from his neck to his chest, which he felt was progress.
The speed in which he caved shocked you more than it should have, but it was good news for you. His information was irrelevant, but the fact that he was talking was good. It was only two men you cared about, but they would be the hardest to get him to share, so you had to work him. With skill, you guided the conversation, asking about specific men from your memories.
So much time had passed that the man took a beat to recall who you'd been asking about, but you were patient. As he shared information in great detail (names, aliases, roles on crew, last known location, changes in appearances), you started to loosen your grip on his wrists. Just enough to make him think you meant it.
"Tell me about the first mate and your captain." They were the only two you needed to find, the men in charge. Even if you wanted every member of the slave-trading crew to suffer, you had to limit your scope.
"That I can't tell you," he dodged the question. "Why not? You had no problem squealing like a pig earlier?" You put him in his place, reminding him of the betrayal he had already committed. His jaw tightened at your insinuation.
"I cannot tell you where the captain is because I do not know," he replied coolly. Lies. "What do you mean you do not know?" You pressed. "I mean I do not know," he insisted. More lies. But you did notice a key figure was missing. "Then what about the first mate?" "He died nearly ten years ago." Truth.
You altered your approach. “Surely you know something about your captain, he did like you an awful lot I remember,” you said attempting to stroke his ego. The man gulped. "Last I heard he became a marine, but that’s the last I heard, I swear." Almost the truth.
"You don't think I believe that now do you?" Your eyes darkened and you tightened your hold around his wrists, crushing his broken wrist. He winced. "He- He's a captain for G7 now... by the name Samuel Jones." Ah finally, what you had wanted.
"Thank you for being so helpful," you said, your hand didn't leave his wrists, but your hand didn't leave. "Will-Will you let me go now?" You laughed. A laugh completely devoid of humor, one questioning the audacity of a man who had sold people for a living asking to be let free.
"Did you really think I would let you leave?" You whispered the words out with venom. A million emotions seemed to pass through his eyes; disbelief, fear, anguish, anger, but they settled back on the look you were most familiar with — cruelty. Ignoring him, you aligned your short sword with his heart, but you hesitated. Killing a man wasn't what had caused you pause, certainly not killing him, but it felt almost inhumane to kill an unarmed man without asking if he had anything to say.
"Any last words?" Your moment of generosity was met with a fucked-up grin. "Yeah, I should've put that mouth to better use when I had the chance."
A loud squelching noise followed by a gargle of blood cut him off as you stabbed the knife directly into his heart. The arterial splatter as you withdrew the blade only to thrust it back in didn't faze you. Nothing did. There was no merciful bone in your body currently. You weren't just there to kill, you were there to make him pay. For what he had done to you. For what he had done to countless others. Time lapsed and your brain stopped registering stimulus as you repeatedly stabbed him. Reality felt so far away.
Footsteps went unnoticed by you as they grew nearer. A hand gently stopped your wrist before you could strike again. "He's dead." The familiar voice sounded distant.
It was over. He was dead.
Your ears rang. Slowly, the words processed. The sword fell from your grasp, and you slid off the corpse. You were frozen in time until you suddenly collapsed into sobs that violently racked your body.
Shanks knelt beside you and wordlessly wrapped you in his arm. You clung onto his shirt and cried until you couldn't anymore. His silence was eventually replaced by words of affirmation, telling you that you did a great job and how proud he was. You held onto those words as you wavered on consciousness, your eyes struggling to stay open.
Your exhaustion, be it from the fight, not being at full strength, or simply the emotional toll, was evident. Shanks helped you get on his back in a piggyback ride. He stopped to grab the blade you held so dear and take its sheath, stowing both in his cloak.
As he walked back through the forest, he felt a few silent tears fall onto his neck. While it made his heart ache, it was for the better. Not only did you deal with one of the men you had sought out, but now you had a lead on the mastermind of it all. That was progress.
Shanks followed an alternate route back to the ship, sticking to tree cover as much as possible to minimize the number of people who would see you in such a vulnerable state, knowing it was what you would want.
When the two of you emerged from the tree line near the docks, people were quick to notice the blood on you both and the state you were in.
"Talk about déjà vu. How many times are they gonna do this?" Yasopp mumbled from his perch. Before you had boarded the ship, you had arrived in a much similar way. Yasopp sounded the alarm of a potential medical emergency. The local doctors and pirates alike were getting ready to intercept you for treatment. Shanks, however, walked right by them, not bothering to explain anything.
He brought you onto the Red Force and into his cabin, setting you down on the bed. He grabbed the nearby water basin and pitcher, pulling them closer. With a rag, Shanks gently washed the blood from you as you stared dead-eyed straight ahead. The water turned into a vivid red, but dried blood clung to your skin and nail beds. Although the bulk of the blood was off, Shanks knew it wouldn't be enough. Then there was the splatter in your hair.
"Darlin'," Shanks started, hoping to get your attention. Your eyes moved to meet him, and he couldn't help but notice how they lacked the luster they normally held. "Why don't ya take a nice, warm bath, alright? I got a tub filled up already. Would hate to let the water get cold."
The captain rarely left his ship, but when he did, there were always little things the crew did when he got back, like a fresh, warm bath and often a bottle of booze along with his favorite food. It was a nice perk, but you clearly needed it more than he did.
You nodded, and Shanks set up a makeshift privacy screen with a sheet and rope before helping you get in the bath. After confirming you didn't need any help, Shanks let you have your space. Nearby, he washed his hands and changed into a clean shirt— one that did not have the remnants of someone else's blood.
He grabbed the freshest set of clothes he had, they would not fit you right, but it was all he had without leaving the room, and he wasn't about to leave you alone. Especially unsupervised in a bathtub in your state.
As you bathed, Shanks sat down and cleaned your short sword. Countless times he'd cleaned blood off a blade, and he found the familiarity of the action rather soothing. While giving the weapon the care it deserved, Shanks noticed a faint inscription. He tried to dig out the dirt, blood, and grime with his nails, but stopped when you called for him.
"Can I get a towel, please?" You asked in a voice so quiet and devoid of emotion that he would not have guessed it to be yours if he'd heard it anywhere else. Shanks wiped his hands clean, tucking away the basin of bloody water for later disposal before delivering.
You were too weak, too drained to do anything, so he helped you out of the bath, helped you dry off, and helped you get dressed. Then he picked you up and laid you down on his bed.
"Get some rest," he said, turning to leave. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him. The plea in your eyes was clear enough without words. Stay. With an accepting sigh, Shanks kicked off his shoes before sliding next to you in bed. You laid your head on his chest, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out.
~~~
When you woke the next morning, you found yourself in Shanks's cabin unsure of how you had gotten there. The man in question was using your chest as a pillow and holding onto you. Your confusion quickly dissipated into something more harrowing and less forgiving. Guilt.
What had transpired in that clearing came rushing back to you all too fast. You stared up at the ceiling full of tumultuous emotions, but trying your best to go numb, trying to justify it.
It had been a kill or be killed situation. Or at least in a sense it had been. It was more like an out of body experience than anything else. There was something so strange about watching yourself go into a frenzy, relinquishing control to unbridled anger. But it was in the past now, nothing could change what had been done.
You had to move on...
...But that face kept coming back. The haunting memories merged with the sight of the mutilated corpse. And what disturbed you the most was that you didn't feel bad in the slightest. You had killed before and, with the life you had chosen, you would probably kill again. But never like that. Never so.... brutal.
Still you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. And that made you feel awful. A small squeeze distracted you from your thoughts. Looking down at the man who clung onto unconsciously, his red hair had fallen in a curtain on his face. The innocent action made you let out a light snort and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. Only then did he open his eyes, head turned up to you in a dopey smile.
"G'morning."
~~~
Shanks, who had only been half asleep, woke up when he felt your muscles tense underneath him. He knew that the morning wasn't going to be easy for you, but didn't have a gage as to how challenging it would be. For the time being, he had decided, he would give you space, so he stayed in his same position, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing even.
There was a moment where you had almost seemed to relax, but then your entire body went rigid once more. He would have given more than a pretty penny for your thoughts, but they weren't for him. Allowing you some more time to think if you chose, but still offering you some reassurance, Shanks gave you a small squeeze. Just enough to pull you from your mind should you choose but not enough to think that he was awake and watching you, which he kinda was but still.
To his surprise and relief, you let you a short chuckled in amusement and pulled him into your arms. While he wanted to lie there and relish in. the moment, it wasn't time for that.
"G'morning," he said, his voice thick with sleep. "Thank you," you said sincerely. "That's an unusual greeting," Shanks joked, looking up at you as you cracked a small smile. "No, for yesterday. Thank you," you reiterated. Shanks hummed and repositioned his head on your chest, still tired.
"Seriously. I'm sorry you had to see that." You spoke staring up at the ceiling. You still weren't sure what had come over you the day before and hated that it was witnessed at all, but most of all by him...although, if somebody had to witness it you were glad that he'd been the one.
Shanks could practically hear your internal spiral. "Yep, I hate seeing you like that." He rolled the two of you over and inverted your position so that your head was on his chest and his arm was around you. "My bad," you said, shaking your head.
A moment of hesitation occurred before Shanks spoke again. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You sunk into him, as if trying to hide. "What is there to talk about? What's done is done." Shanks wasn't sure how he felt about that outlook in this particular circumstance, but was he really one to talk?
You looked around the room for something to distract you. You noticed something important was missing. "...uhh, what did you do with my clothes?" "Was going to wash 'em. Well, I was gonna get Hongo to do wash 'em because he's better at getting blood out..." Shanks faded out at your reaction to his words. You'd pulled back from him with a grimace. More like you were disgusted with yourself than anything. A far off look occupied your face.
"How about I get you some fresh clothes, yeah? As much as I love seeing you in mine they don't seem to fit you right." Shanks offered, sitting up. He loosely grabbed the hem of the shirt you wore where it ended mid-thigh. The faint touch pulled you back to reality.
"Shanks, I can do that myself, I'm not broken," you said sitting up as well. Shanks was already out of bed, he turned around at your words with pleading eyes. "Please." He hadn't been here while you were ill, he just wanted to help.
His request was simple, you fell down in bed in defeat, "Fine. I suppose that would be nice." Shanks left the room, returning a short time later. "Here," he offered, setting some folded clothes at the foot of the bed. "While you change I'll get you your coffee/tea.” "You don't need to—“ Shanks left before you could finish your sentence, hearing your sigh from the other side of the door.
When he made it to the kitchen, he Lucky Roux and Beckman, the latter was to be expected this early in the morning, but the cook was surprising. So was the large plate of food.
Shanks raised a brow but said nothing, sticking to his mission. Lucky turned around and caught sight of the redhead man. “Oi, Chief, I got something for the lil’ lady if she’s awake. Could ya please get it to her? 'S very important.”
“Promised coffee/tea, gotta do this first,” Shanks said motioning to the now filled mug in his hand. No matter how talented he was or how long it’d been, there were just somethings Shanks couldn’t do with one arm. Beckman stood up and grabbed the plate wordlessly before opening up the door. Shanks followed.
“I’m assuming that blood wasn’t hers,” Beck said in a hushed tone. “No, and thank god for that. Can you imagine?” Shanks responded, attempting to slip in some humor. It hadn't work.
Beckman gave no answer to the hypothetical. Instead he continued talking “Hongo told be a bit about what happened. Is there anything else I should know about?” He wasn’t trying to pry, he was simply looking for honest answers.
Shanks sighed, his shoulders sinking with the exhale. "We haven't really walked about it yet. There's some new information regarding the whereabouts of some of 'em, but it's not really my place to share much more."
The two men arrived at Shanks's cabin and stopped. "Put the plate on top 'n open the door for me. Then you're dismissed," Shanks said, holding out the mug. Beckman did as he was told, leaving with assurances that Shanks would find him later.
~~~
Shanks left the room before you could argue with him, which, unfortunately, felt on brand. Getting up to change, you recognized that the "outfit" he'd chosen hadn't been random. You don't know how Shanks did it — with this man these types of small gestures were rarely coincidental — but he'd brought you your favorite comfy clothes, one of the few things you had packed before leaving [ISLAND/Lakekeep].
After getting dressed, you sat on the bed, playing with a loose thread on your shirt. The ship rocked gently in the harbor, the waves providing a sense of stability that you appreciated. You weren't sure how to move forward at the moment. Your mind was vacant yet somehow still occupied. Everything felt off but you couldn't fully place why. It was almost as if you didn't know yourself anymore.
Yet, there was an undeniable serenity you had felt once that man had died. The world felt lighter without him in it. How do you grapple with such a thing? Especially when it was done by your hands? Those were the questions that slipped into your mind through all of the peace... but was that really the right word for it?
Two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway and you forced all of your existential thoughts away. The door opened, revealing Shanks.
"That's more than coffee/tea," you commented after the door opened. In his hand was, yes the drink he promised you, but also a large plate of something. "Lucky said it was very important to get this to you," he smiled. Shanks kicked the door shut behind him and offered you the plate full of food with a bow. You rolled your eyes at his antics but laughed anyway. Shanks set the mug down on the table beside you after you accepted the plate. Then, he'd turned the chair at his desk towards you and sat down.
Looking closer at what you were given and realized two things. Not only was the fruit from yesterday's market there, but there was also your favorite breakfast of all time. You have no idea how Lucky knew that, it must've come up at some point but you couldn't remember for the life of you. Tears welled up in your eyes. When was the last time someone had been this kind to you? Feeling cared for in this way hadn't been something you'd experienced since you'd been back in your kingdom. Your heart was filled with gratitude, but something undercut it all.
Would Lucky have done this if he had known what you had done yesterday?
"They're all worried about you, you know," Shanks said. "They shouldn't be," you mumbled, taking a small bite of food. It was delicious, it made you wish that you were hungrier, but it was hard to stomach anything while still grappling with what you had done. "Don't tell them that," Shanks said in jest, but with the tell tale signs of worry interwoven. You didn't like feeling like you were fragile, but that's just what you were right now; fragile.
"Nobody's gonna see you any differently if that's what you are worried about," Shanks stated with a soft smile. "There's not a man onboard who hasn't killed before. It's not something any of us enjoy, but sometimes it the only choice. The first one is always the hardest—"
"I've killed before," you interrupted, devoid of any emotion.
Shanks should've known that you would feel that way, he knew you blamed yourself for a lot of deaths, but when he met your eyes he realized that you had meant by your own hands. Shanks swallowed. He'd known you had suffered more than your fair share in the past — more than anyone should in a dozen lifetimes — but he had only started to grasp the true weight of what you had been through.
"This time it just feels...different," you admitted, poking around at your food. You had never had a sense of relief when you'd taken a life beyond the notion that you had survived a life or death situation. This time the relief hadn't just lingered, but had grown. "Freeing I bet," Shanks said. The words fit, no matter how much you didn't want them too.
"I dunno, maybe," you said, ending the conversation by eating your food. You tried to force an appetite, getting through half of the plate, but you weren't sure if you could stomach anymore. You hoped Lucky wouldn't feel bad that you couldn't finish it.
Shanks waited until all you were doing was pushing your food around to ask the question that he was always going to ask; not "what the hell came over you?" or "who was that man?" or even simply "why?", but "What do you want to do now?"
~~~
The floorboards creaked beneath you as you paced back and forth in the ship's office, where all of your worst conversations seemed to happen. Shanks had gone to grab the two men you had requested.
Although progress in finding the pirates who had taken you as a child had been made, your insides turned at the prospect of confiding/confessing what you had done to get them. Shanks had said not to worry about them looking at you differently, but a part of your mind told you that couldn't possibly be true.
Sure, they were pirates and not civilians who lived without blood on their hands, and maybe Shanks's view of you obviously had remained the same despite being an eyewitness, but you were disgusted with yourself.
It hadn't been the first time you'd killed and it wouldn't be the last, but this time had been unique. Never before had you been so...brutal.
Beckman and Hongo, followed by Shanks all entered the room. You stopped your pacing. The two men knew the reason for the meeting without any explanation, they could be smart like that. Somehow, the serious men became serious-er. To your relief, the first mate and the doctor gave you space without you requesting it.
"So about yesterday..." You trailed off, not sure how to start it, you weren't even sure how to meet their eyes. "I uh... I killed a man." That felt like an understatement, but it was the only way you could stomach admitting it. The men stayed patient with you as you struggled through the words.
"He was someone from my past. Someone bad. Someone cruel. Someone viscous." There you went, trying to justify your actions. The descriptors were apt, but from your mouth they had felt more like you were searching for atonement than painting a picture. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to meet their gaze.
"I never imagined I would just stumble on into him without trying, but because of it we have some new leads on the crew. So a happy accident?" You tried to laugh, but it came out as an anxious chuckle. Nothing about this was funny.
Beckman and Hongo exchanged a look. A look you knew, one that spoke in volumes. You stopped. "What aren't you telling me?"
The men looked at each other for a moment, under the gaze of both you and their captain. Beckman took the lead, squaring his shoulders to prepare for a blowback unlike any shotgun. "It's unlikely that it was a coincidence that that guy was here." Your eyebrows furrowed as his words sat with you.
"The first night after we arrived, while you were still unconscious, we caught somebody trying to sneak into the room you were in," Beckman continued. His fingers itched to grab a cigarette, something to cling too, but he refrained, accepting that they had made their choice days before. "He had your bounty poster in his back pocket."
You went silent, a small "oh" escaping your lips. A part of you couldn't help but feel betrayed. Shouldn't you know about these sorts of things?
"Was he armed?" Shanks's asked, his voice harsh. "Yes," Beck responded honestly. "And I didn't hear about this because?" Shanks questioned, his nostrils flared.
"You needed to maintain some focus, your mind was already split—“
"That's not for you to decide," Shanks sharply cut Beckman off. He wasn't the type of man to anger easily, much less by his own crew, but there he was glaring at his first mate.
Beck sighed, but he had dug this grave now it was time to lay in it. "We thought it had been handled. He didn't make it past the window before we got him. There was no sign that he was anything other than a bounty hunter. She was never left alone afterwards. Someone was always in the room with her. We had people stationed outside of the door and window too. There was a schedule."
You had thought the constant supervision to be strange, but had brushed it off as concern for your wellbeing. While you were technically right about that, it was in a very different way. You didn't know what to think.
"We took every precautionary measure we could think of," Hongo stepped in. "It seems likely that he was involved, but we had no way of knowing. Hell, most of the crew doesn't know what's going on/what she's running from." Everything he said, he'd said gently, but it wasn't met in kind. "That's not for them to know," Shanks snapped.
"No. They probably should know," you spoke up in a hushed tone/faintly. You wrapped your arms around yourself, not flinching at the faint pain touching your side brought. Just like the wounds from your past, the gunshot wound that had brought you here hadn't healed. Life had a funny way of drawing parallels like that. "It's only fair that they have some idea what's going on."
"You don't need to tell them," Shanks said softly, his demeanor shifting entirely as he looked at you.
"I know they don't, and maybe not all of them need to know, but I dragged you all into this mess. I can't let them stay blind to it." Your arms tightened around your torso, the pain forcing you to stay grounded and not in your head.
"You didn't drag us into anything," Beckman said gruffly, as if it were fact as true as the water was blue.
"You got involved," you countered. "It was our choice," Hongo said. Doubtful, you looked at the captain, the man who called the shots. "It's true," the doctor reiterated. Your shoulders fell in acceptance.
"I still want to tell them," you whispered. A look was shared between the three pirates in the room, the silent conversation ended when Shanks nodded. "Okay," he exhaled. "Who do you want to know?"
~~~
By the time the last senior officers were entering the office, you looked like you were going to be sick, and maybe you were. Your stomach had been tying in knots. What was worse, sharing the tale of how your hands acquired new blood or sharing details of your past? You weren't sure.
You were leaning back against the grand desk, legs crossed in front of you, trying to seem unassuming. At some point you had thrown on an old sweatshirt, the sleeves of which you were fiddling with, poking at the holes from where the fabric had given way to time.
Shanks entered the room with a sigh after rounding everyone up. He shut the door behind him. The office didn't feel as big when ten full grown adults were crammed in it. Some chatter between the men filled the room
"Listen up lads! This lovely lady's got something to say!" Shanks said drawing attention to you. His words were light but his tone was not, the grim voice was far from the jovial lilt it usually had. The room silenced, understanding the severity at hand.
You gave Shanks a small smile, one that refused to meet your eyes. Although you had suggested it, this wasn't something you'd been eager to do, and now, with the full attention of band of pirates, you wished you could go back and change your mind. But you knew that it was something you should do, something you felt like you had to do.
"I don't even know how to start this," you admitted, feeling defeated already. "All good stories start at the beginning," Yasopp said with an encouraging smile. "So it all started when I was born..." You started, baffled why you would try that to begin with. No one laughed, not even a chuckle. You cleared your throat.
"You've all been so kind to me and I cannot thank you enough. Helping me and treating me the way you did when I was really nothing but a stranger to you, even when it was an inconvenience. I will never forget what you've done for me," you tried again, speaking from the heart.
"Are you leaving?" Lucky Roux questioned sounding extremely concerned, in fact the room was almost on edge. You made eye contact with Shanks. "I...uh, I wasn't planning on it....at least not right now....if that's okay?" The room seemed to collectively give a sigh of relief. Shanks smiled and nodded, he'd meant it when he'd said you could stay.
"But, because of that I feel like it is only fair to share a few things with you. So, as you all know, the government doesn't like me very much, we're kinda the same that way," you said motioning to everyone in the room. The easy part was sharing things that they already knew. "I grew up as a princess in [KINGDOM] and one night, about fourteen, probably closer to fifteen years ago, back when I was a dumb teenager, I snuck out of the castle. I went out drinking like I liked to do and had much more than I had any right to, which was none. I was entirely underage."
The story was about to get grim, so you wrapped your arms around yourself as a comfort. "I don't know how but after that I found myself on the sea, in a cage with cuffs on. I wasn't the only one, far from it." Your hands dug into your sides and you swallowed harshly. "I never learned any names, but I remember all of their faces. The captain had a devil fruit. I wasn't able to figure out what it was, but one touch would put you to sleep. I heard he could also make people hallucinate, but I never had the pleasure.
"Later I learned that they had kept me for months. Apparently they were waiting for the heat to die down before..." You couldn't bring yourself to finish that sentence, so you left it hanging in the air. "I was lucky though." You stopped once more, remembering all of those who weren't as lucky as you. Tears welled in your eyes and your lip wobbled. Your fingers dug into your side, the pain of the tender wound felt refreshing.
"You don't have to continue," someone said, a sentiment that was echoed with several nods. You hadn't realized that you were crying until you heard your sniffle. "I have a point I swear. I didn't get you for a sob story," you said as you wiped the tears away.
"That guy some of you saw yesterday, he was one of them. Probably the worst, at least to me. I'm happy to report that he is dead." You thought about your next words and said them anyways. "I wish I could kill him again." There was a venom in your voice that took most of the room aback, especially Shanks, who had seen how much you were struggling with what you'd done. If recalling that man's actions made you rewrite your moral code so strongly, Shanks wasn't sure if he wanted to know.
"The good news is that we now got some information on the remaining members of the crew. Shanks and I have been talking and he agreed to help me track them down. Or at lest some of them." You stopped and looked to the man for confirmation. "As many as you want," he nodded, and you continued. "The captain is a marine now, that much we know but some of the names are harder to find."
"Looks like we'll finally have some fun around here," Limejuice said, you turned to the man, perplexed. "It's been a bit since we've fought with the marines," Building Snake commented, adding to your confusion. "We're going after them, are we not?" Snake huffed.
"Uh...we?" You questioned, as if you had never even thought of the possibility of more help. "Yes 'we,' Who do you think you are?" Limejuice said, sounding offended. There was a rumble of agreement. The thought of asking the crew for help had, in fact, not crossed your mind, all you had asked for from Shanks was help tracking them down, you hadn't expected the enthusiasm from his crew to do much more.
Across the room Shanks had a twinkle in his eyes, one that read clear through the room when you'd gone to look at him, almost as if to say "It was silly of you to expect anything different."
~~~
Later that night, well after The Red Force had left Sunwarf, another famous Red Hair banquet was in swing. The crew had declared it a "you're healthy!" party, and for once you believed their excuse. With the night's stars becoming brighter and the celebration in full swing you found yourself on the forec's'le of the ship, leaning against the railings between two of the cannons. The sounds of music and laughter still reached you, but they were muted. It was a great place to think, or as good as you were gonna get.
The mind wasn't always a kind thing, your mind had been being especially cruel and you hadn't been willing to bring down the vibe, so you disappeared for a little bit. Time alone was exactly what you'd needed. Salt air seeps into your nostrils and soft spray occasionally brushed your skin. It was relaxing.
The day had been awfully emotional, and the crew, the band of roughened older men, had been exceptionally kind. Yasopp had casually brought you your sword, clean and polished like the day it'd been gifted to you. He'd blushed like a mad man when you'd tried to express your gratitude. Building Snake had brought you a book to borrow, Bonk punch had just happeend to be playing your favorite songs whenever you'd walked by. Monster had even tried to groom you, which apparently wasn't something he did without permission (anymore), but you'd read it as the monkey not knowing how to express his emotions in a more human form. Feeling cared for like this hadn't been something you'd experienced in a long, long time.
"Y'know, some might find it rude for teh guest of honor to slip away," a voice said behind you. You turn to find Shanks at the top of the stairs up to the front deck and approaching.
"I'm not slipping away, I just needed a moment," you said, turning back to the sea, waiting for the man to join you. "That seems fair," Shanks said arriving at your side, leaving a respectable space between the two of you.
"What's on your mind?" Shanks questioned after a moment. "Oh, you know, thoughts," you answered. "You tend to be having a lot of those lately," your staring out at nothing multiple times throughout the day had not gone unnoticed by Shanks. "It's a byproduct of living," you said dismissively. "I do like it when you do that," Shanks admitted.
The conversation lulled, for a while it was just the two of you there, enjoying each other's company in the silence. "I wanted to ask you a question," Shanks said, breaking th silence. You turned to him with your head cocked, a signal for him to continue. "What do you have planned for the future... What do you want out of life?"
Another long pause followed before you spoke. "I've never really thought that far ahead." The types of futures you had dreamed of in the past were no longer possible. "Being alive and not constantly looking over my shoulder was all I could really ask for, but I suppose that's not really in the cards now."
"Not anymore, I fear," Shanks confirmed. He wasn't the type to lie or sugarcoat the truth to make it easier to swallow, you supposed you appreciated that about him. "But you don't have to do it alone, not when we got your back." Shanks nudged you in the shoulder with his own, giving you a kind smile.
"You got as much time and space as you need to figure it out, just let me know when you do." With that, he made his exit, slipping off into the night and rejoining the party.
thank you for reading!! 💕
a/n: the next one is going to be more fun i promise, and, assuming everything goes according to plan, there will be smut so yay :)
shanks x afab! reader (she/her) | lovers (intimate) to lovers (romantic)
tags: ANGST,
tw: graphic violence, slave trade, misogyny , allusions to sex trafficking ,
wc: 2.9k
a/n: i’ve always wondered what would happen if after marineford some pirates really chose to fuck around and find out. so that may or may not have been a heavy inspiration on this part lol. canon typical violence but like realistically
summary: the life of an emperor never guarantees any breaks. shanks should have known that duty would call when he didn't want it to. at the same time, someone is out there hoping for revenge and it isn't you.
Early the next morning, Benn Beckman started the day like any other, feeding the snails. He divvied up a pile of leafy greens for the animals. His second cup of coffee sat nearby on the large desk, steaming and too hot to drink.
Despite their laidback nature, the information network the Red Hair Pirates had was strong, and at the core of it all were these transponder snails. Ever since the death of Whitebeard, these little guys had been working overtime (so had Beckman, having the mighty task of sorting through it all).
The small animals chomped away at their portions of green while Beck took to his other morning task — sifting through all the night’s messages. Much of it was the usual information, updates on marine activity as well as changes in the position of members of their fleet, but something unusual caught his eye. A letter.
Greetings Red Hair Pirates, this is Mayor Poodle from Sunwarf on [island] of in the Quiet Archipelago. I hope that this letter finds you well wherever you are in the world. Forgive me for my brazenness in contacting you, but there is a situation developing just outside of our ports that I think you should be aware of.
Currently, there is a gathering of pirates unaffiliated with your crew in our waters. At first, it appeared to be a coincidence, but that seems less likely now. As not to disturb you, we waited until the number of ships reached double digits to express our concern. So far, none of them have made it to port, which is good, but it is unclear how long that will remain the case.
Due to this highly unusual behavior, I will continue to keep you updated on the matter until it is resolved. Every other hour on the hour, I will send another letter until the pirates go away (hopefully on their own).
Right now, there is no need for your concern as none of them have breached our shore, but we would greatly appreciate your attention on this matter.
Sincerely, Mayor Poodle
After reading the letter, Beckman scoured looking for the promised updates, only finding two more. The latest update was nearly three hours ago, detailing how the pirates had started to move in. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the communications had ceased.
The last letter ended with a request for assistance but “only if convenient.” If Beckman’s memory served him right, the island was close, only a little over half a day’s journey away. In the opposite direction from where you were traveling. Where the hospital was. Beck cursed, then got up and left the room.
~~~
You weren’t getting better. That was the reality Shanks did not want to face as he read through one of the books he’d found forgotten on the shelves in your room. He was not a big reader, but it beat looking at the condition you were in. Or sitting with his thoughts.
The redhead was still at your bedside, slowly flipping through the pages of the random book he had grabbed. It was his third since you had fallen asleep nearly twenty hours ago. This one was far more boring than the other two he had read. The first one had been a children’s book, evidence of Uta’s childhood that still lingered throughout the ship. He’d read aloud as if you could hear it, with sprinkles of commentary and improvised lines. The second had been about the stars, but the tales of those constellations had been far less entertaining than the ones you had come up with. He didn’t even know what this one was about.
Too tired and lost in thought to process the words, Shanks went reread the page for what felt like the hundredth time when the door swung open. Beckman walked into the room with a serious look and a transponder snail in hand, neither of which was a good sign. It was all the more troubling that the man made no comment on the large book in Shanks’s lap (an unusual sight to be sure).
“What is it?” The captain asked, sitting up and discarding the book on a nearby table. “We got a problem,” his first mate responded, pulling out some paper from his pocket and passing it over. Shanks reviewed the documents and it was indeed a problem.
For some reason, multiple crews had banded together to attack the town of Sunwarf, an area protected under the Red Hair’s flag. The town was one of the larger, more populated areas at the edge of the his territory. The message this was meant to send was clear. Their response had to be clearer. No one messes with the Red Hair Pirates and gets away with it.
“What do you want to do, Boss?”
The answer was obvious, but Shanks’s eyes flitted over to you on their own accord. Since the ship’s course had been rerouted, your skin had grown gray and dull in the way you only saw of those on the brink of death. You needed a hospital. He needed to protect the people relying on him. Doing both wasn’t an option. The choice had been made from the start, but it scared him that he had almost hesitated. Shanks turned back to Beckman, but when the words didn’t form right away, another voice spoke.
“The hell you waiting for, Shanks? Go.” Your voice was weak, and you were struggling to even open your eyes. Your sudden alertness took both men by surprise. “I’ll be fine. Besides, you owe me a date,” you could barely muster up a whisper, but there was a glimmer in your eyes once you had gotten them open.
“Yeah,” Shanks said to you softly before redirecting back to his second-in-command. “D’ya try calling them yet?”
“No, ’s why I brought the snail,” Beck said, passing the snail over after dialing the number. The snail rang for much longer than Shanks would have preferred, but eventually someone picked up the line.
“M-Mayor Poodle’s office, this is the mayor sp-speaking.“ The man on the other end of the line spoke in poorly masked fear.
“Mayor Poodle, it’s Red Hair.” At that, the mayor coughed, clearing his throat. “Oh, Captain Shanks! You got my message!” “Yes, we did, sorry for the late response—“ “Oh, there’s no need to worry about it,” The mayor interrupted. “Nonsense,” Shanks cut him off, “Now, tell me how things are looking over there.” Mayor Poodle paused.
“Oh, you know, not too bad, we should be able to manage…” The mayor trailed off as if not wanting to continue “Only, uhh, one building on fire so far, b-but that was put out! No need to worry.”
Beck and Shanks looked at each other with the same expression. Then there was a sound of chaos on the other end of the line followed by the mayor’s meek voice. “Make that two fires.”
Without words exchanged, Shanks sent his first mate to alert the navigator of the change of course.
~~~
By the time the Red Hair Pirates spotted the town of Sunwarf, their situation had worsened. Plumes of smoke from raids could be seen from miles away. Even still, the destruction was evident without a spyglass. Long burnt-out buildings still smoldered. Docks had been taken out, leaving only their supports behind. The splintering of wood where the Jolly Rodger had once stood proud. Shanks’s jaw clenched. He was far from the only one on the crew to be affected by the view.
As the Red Force approached the port, several enemy ships attempted to flee but were promptly sunk. Before the ship was fully moored, pirates were leaping from the ship, including a small squad transporting Y/N led by the doctor.
In the exchange with the mayor, he had been informed of your condition and made every assurance that no accommodation would be spared upon your arrival. Shanks allowed himself one glance towards the team carrying you off to the building vividly described to them before focusing on the task at hand.
The havoc on the town was immense; half of it was in various stages of burnt or burning, and vast amounts of pirates ran amuck. Some were unlucky souls left behind by their crew, and others were fools who thought they stood a chance against the Yonko’s crew, but all of them would soon meet their end.
Shanks himself cut down the majority of the offenders, moving so fast that he was barely a blur to the untrained eye. It was over quickly. Bodies were strewn in the streets, and the quiet stillness that came after battle rang out. Civilians wasted no time putting out the rest of the fires, tending to their wounded, and even starting repairs. The crew dealt with the bodies of the aggressors.
With the matter dealt with, the emperor sought out his first mate. He found the man just outside the town center, near the port, dousing a small fire. Sensing his boss's presence, Beckman passed the empty pail to another member of the crew before meeting Shanks in the middle.
"Did you get a count on the ships?" Shanks questioned, with the feeling that something was missing. "Three at port and three we sunk for six total," Beck responded. "The mayor said seven," Shanks stated, hand now resting on the pommel of his sword. "He did," confirmed Beck. The captain let out a sigh; this was more than he had bargained for, but that's how it was sometimes.
"Check the island and the waters for any survivors and deal with them as you see fit. Have the crew help the town where they can. You know which ones know first aid. Try and keep the Doc available for Y/N. I'm going to find the mayor; come find me once you're done." Shanks ordered, walking off.
Luckily, the mayor was nearby, talking with someone who looked like a carpenter. "Oh! Captain Shanks," the mayor said upon spotting the redhead. "Mayor Poodle," Shanks greeted in kind. "I cannot begin to thank you for your help. I don't know what we would have done without you. Our town is forever in your—“
"How many crews did you say were present?" the yonko asked, cutting the man off. The mayor blinked before he answered the question, "Seven." So one did leave. "Do you happen to recall any of the flags that the ships flew?" Hopefully, with the missing ship's Jolly Roger, they would be easy to track down. The missing crew needed to be dealt with too. "Uhh... I myself do not know, but I am sure that we would be able to figure it out if we asked around."
Before Shanks could respond, there was a small tug on his cloak. He looked down to find a young boy, not much younger than Luffy had been when he’d met him. The little boy was unfolding a piece of paper, and, after orienting the page the right way, it was clear what it displayed. The Jolly Rogers.
"Here you go, Mister Captain Sir," the young boy said, handing the paper to Shanks. The redhead looked towards the dock, matching a few of the flags to those flown on the ships left before reviewing it more.
"There's eight flags here," Shanks questioned the boy. "This one rode in with a couple of them but never came in,” the boy said, pulling down Shanks's arm to where he could reach and point at the picture.
"You sure they were together?" The kid nodded vehemently with a confirmation. "I was watching them sail with my Daddy's spyglass." The carpenter's face went to a scowl for a brief moment. "Guess that's where that went," the man huffed under his breath.
"How close were you watching those ships? Did you happen to catch any of them leaving?" Shanks asked, kneeling down to be on level with the kid. The boy took the opportunity to sit on Shanks's now bent leg, making the man bite back a smile and leaving both the mayor and the boy's father aghast. From his new perch, the child recounted the movements of the foreign pirate ships.
~~~
An hour later, and the information the kid (whose name Shanks would have to get later) had provided had been corroborated by multiple people. Which meant not only did one crew escape, two crews did. They might have gotten away for now, but nobody could escape the wrath of the emperor once he was crossed.
They needed to be taught a lesson. Unfortunately, that meant he had to go out and teach it. With a vague understanding of where they were heading and eyes on the lookout, Shanks and a few senior officers set out, each on their own.
It all had happened so fast that Shanks hadn't had the time to properly check in on your state, or even say goodbye. He’d almost done it anyway, but Beckman had made a good point that leaving as soon as possible would make the runaway pirates quicker to catch and the trip shorter overall. Only now, alone at sea, did Shanks wonder if there was another motive to that. The last he'd seen of you, you looked to be on damn near death's door; he couldn't imagine seeing you in an even worse state.
All he could do now was trust in the doctors who held your life in their hands and trust that he would be kept informed. Shanks put his worry aside and focused on his mission.
~~~
That evening, a middle-aged man sat alone at his favorite bar. Although James had not been born on the ’shithole of an island’ he'd resided on for the past however many years, he had taken on the role of the local drunkard. He was the type of man who had long grown coarse and bitter from the cards life had dealt him. But today he was in an even worse mood than usual — a feat much of the town would not have thought possible.
Never mind the attacks from all of those bloody pirates. Earlier, in all of the chaos, James could have sworn he’d seen that cunt of a princess that had ruined his life and forced the disbandment of the Loop Hook Pirates. They had had such a good thing going: find a pretty young thing (or multiple), have the boss grab them and put them to sleep with his devil fruit powers, and then sell them off at Sabaody. It was as simple as that. There had been bonuses too if the merchandise fit a certain criteria or was catered to a specific buyer. The crew even had a game on who could find the most expensive body to sell. But it had all been ruined by one lone, evil, stupid bitch.
It wasn’t their fault that the beautiful young girl they had picked up was a goddamn princess!! They specifically stuck to low-income areas to avoid a mess (as an auctioneer recommended). With clever planning from the captain and some time, they were able to avoid that first hurdle, but then, like the good-for-nothing whore she was, she’d gone and sullied their good name. After her little stunt, not only did they have to return the massive payout they had just received and nearly blown through, they had to pay ‘reparations’ for the damage caused like it was their fault. It had put an end to the crew.
James wallowed at the bar in pity for who knew how long or how many rounds. He had spent most of that drunkenly glaring at the table and muttering to himself. He wasn't even sure if he had seen her. Visions of a drunkard were not far-fetched, and it wouldn't be the first time for him. The uncertainty was the only thing keeping his ass in the chair; Lord knew how quickly he would hunt her down if she were on the island.
His thoughts were interrupted when a small band of pirates he had never seen before made an entrance, loudly engrossed in conversation. James had always preferred this bar over the others because it was quieter, being on the edge of town, yet another thing that had ruined his day. He tried to ignore them, but their conversation back by the bounty posters had made that impossible.
"Ha! Would ya look at that, Princess NAME." James heard one of them say, pointing at the poster of the very woman that had soured his day. “D’ya think she’d mind if I called her that?” The pirate continued, a man with shoulder-length locs. “At your own peril,” another pirate, this one with his blond hair tied up on his head, answered. “Yeah, she did threaten to kill me last time…Bah! That’s all in the past now, we’ll see what happens when she wakes up,” the first pirate responded with a grin that fell fast, his voice softening slightly when he spoke again.
“Do you think she’ll be okay, Doc?” His eyes turned to the other man who had spoken and he tried to hide the worry in them. “She better be,” the doctor responded, sounding tired but concerned himself.
“Poor Princess,” said a large man — nearly too large for the space — holding a half-eaten stick of meat. “She looks so scared.” The large one examined the poster closer before turning away, declaring it made him too sad and was promised booze to cheer him up by the man with the locs.
James wanted to gag at the sympathy directed towards his tormenter, but he remained remarkably silent, spending the rest of the night listening in on the crew’s conversations. They clearly knew who she was; if he was lucky, they would share her location. The rusty gears in his head turned, slowly plotting out a course for revenge.
“Shouldn’t be staring at Red Hair’s crew like that,” the bartender warned James offhandedly as he grabbed the half dozen empty tankards at a nearby table. James's eyes went wide at the knowledge that you were somehow affiliated with a yonko’s crew. It was only then that he realized that he might be over his head.
It was that news that stopped him in his tracks, metaphorically, of course. Although he had your rough location and was ready to move, the fact that you were associated with the Red Hair Pirates made him feel like he should call for backup. It was time to call his old captain. Soon, he would avenge his crew.
~~~
Hours later, in the dead of night, James wove through back alleyways, taking a complex and convoluted route to his destination. To the clinic. Despite the warnings from his old captain to “not get involved under any circumstances", he couldn’t help himself. The dumb bitch was reportedly seriously injured, which made this easy work.
His impatience meant he would be completing the capturing (or, if she was tricky, assassination) alone. If all went according to plan, by the time any members of his former crew set foot on the island, he would have the bounty in hand, ready to share. With that goal in mind, a future so delicious and almost in his grasp, James pressed forward.
James peered through the windows of the cottage, standing on his tippy toes to see in. The darkness both in and outside made it hard to see. He had to cup his hands around the glass and squint to see the layout of the room. When he caught her sleeping figure, all alone, he smiled deeply. Victory was in sight.
~~~
Hongo was in the midst of briefing Beckman on your condition (which hadn't changed much since your arrival) when a loud crash interrupted them. The men paused. They turned towards the sound, towards the room you resided in. With the door half open and them standing just so, the two men had a clear sight of the scene unfolding. Your window had been broken and an intruder was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to enter through it.
In almost an instant, Beck had loaded and fired his rifle. The man went limp over the windowsill, his blood collecting below. His own weight pulled his body further onto the jagged glass of the smashed window pane, further adding to the pool of red.
With the threat accounted for, Beckman investigated the intruder while the doctor checked on your condition. The man reeked of booze and was rather unkempt. A piece of paper stuck out of his back pocket, made prominent by his slumped-over position. Hoping for clues, Beckman grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It was your bounty poster, looking like it had been ripped clean from some wall.
That explains that. Berry was one hell of a motive.
But something more lay beneath the surface, he could just tell. This man looked far from your traditional bounty hunter. Thoughts raced through Beck’s head. Was he hoping to get lucky? Had he been sent? Had he truly not known who he was up against, or had he been too cocky to care? Had there been something more…personal?
Your connection with the crew was not public. Perhaps in Sunwarf and on your home island, but not yet on a wider scale. Which meant there was little to no deterrent to go after you. Having a more public association with them would offer some protection against would-be bounty hunters, but Beck couldn't help but feel that you would be against that idea. He scolded himself for not having developed a plan earlier on.
"She's clear," the doctor proclaimed. Beckman nodded, still lost in his thoughts. The doctor stepped beside the first mate, the acting captain, and continued. “Do we tell him?”
That was the question that had crossed Beck's mind as soon as the intruder had been spotted. He closed his eyes and weighed his options. The man had been armed with a coil of rope and a knife, but he was already dead.
"We'll set up a guard rotation for around the clock and let it be for now." There really was no point in letting their boss know while he was away now that the issue had been solved. It would only serve to worry the already worried man. "If something happens again, we will call, but unless you have any objections, this can wait for now."
Hongo nodded in agreement as two junior members of the crew barged in, wearing worried looks. While they were relieved to find everyone okay, they weren't as relieved to be the ones dealing with the body.
~~~
The next afternoon, a tiny fishing boat pulled into the bay of Sunwarf, carrying a new passenger. A man, late middle-aged, with wiry blond hair turning gray. The man had received a call from his former captain, a request that he go to a small town and keep James in check until more people arrived, no more details than that. He accepted readily, not just out of loyalty, but also out of hope that it was about that bitch of a princess who had been spotted again.
He did his best to blend in, and luckily the town was so engulfed in its hot new gossip that nobody seemed to notice him. Not above gossip himself, he listened closely.
A man had tried to attack the woman that the Red Hair Pirates had brought with them. A woman whose name nobody knew, but it was clear that she was important to the pirates. The whispers passed judgement on the unnamed man for going after an injured and unconscious woman. Then came the climax, the attacker's demise. Good riddance, they would say.
The Red Hair Pirates’ presence was news to the blond, it must have just happened since his Captain hadn't mentioned the infamous crew at all. Although he was nervous at the prospect of running into them, the blond knew that was unlikely. He would stay out of their way and they would stay out of his.
That's how it worked, right? Besides, what business did one of the most powerful people alive have with a lowly runaway slave?
He would be fine.
thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it 💕 and an extra big thank you to everybody who has left a comment
~~~~~~~
end a/n: you know how there's parts that you really don't want to write but need to get done? for me this was that lol, but we did it and now i can share with you all yay!
my brain hurts, i'm gonna edit the next part and then post it tomorrow (don't ever hold me to my word though i lie on accident)
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I stretched as far as my claws physically could and felt the life come back into my bones. Call me a squirrel all you want, but, damn, that nutty prey was good. As I padded out of the den, Verbenachasm went into it, yawning loudly as he passed by. The kitten I saw yesterday was dozing in a smaller, kitten sized den.
"Airstar built a den just for Heatherkit." Doveflick trodded over to me. Must've noticed my staring. "She said it was important that whatever kittens end up here sleep well."
"Well, she's right. I wouldn't want to deal with whining kittens either." Doveflick laughed, and I felt my fur prickle. Now the whole clan thought I was either a funny guy, or stupid.
"Come on, I'll teach you how to navigate the halls."
I followed Doveflick outside of the camp area.
"So, what makes our camp so safe, anyway?"
"Honestly? Not much" he admitted, dampening whatever spark of hope I had. "However, it has a good amount of exits. There's a wall to our backs, and entrances out front, to the left, and to the right."
"Okay, I have eyes, y'know," I retorted. "And surely that just means we can be surrounded."
"True, but, you didn't see the back of the den." I tilt my head. "At the back of the den, we've dug a small hole. It's our emergency escape." I bit my tongue. Maybe I should wait before I speak sometimes.
Doveflick pointed out symbols to show where prey could spawn and arrows to show how to get to camp, but I couldn't properly focus. My head felt like it was filled with bees, and the seemingly pointless sound of dripping liquid didn't help. Where was it coming from, anyway? Am I losing it? I bury the thought. Our pawsteps stopped, and for a moment I feared we had been found by some yellow, starless beast. Instead, my eyes lifted to see a puddle. I guess I wasn't just hearing things! I glanced from Doveflick to the water in disbelief. He simply nodded, and I dashed over to take a drink. He padded alongside me and lay down.
"This is my favourite spot. I call it the Water Den," Doveflick purred as he grooms himself. "Some places here have slight variations to them. This one has water dripping from the ceiling." He put his head under a falling drop and shook it, smiling. "It reminds me of the dew falling from trees back home."
"I'm guessing you're not from Windclan, then."
"You'd know me if I was," he teased.
"Hmmm..." I go silent for a moment, thinking. If he was Shadowclan, maybe Rowanfall would've said something. Riverclan? He did like the water. No. If he was Riverclan, then he'd have more to say than just dew. My eyes lit up as I exclaimed, "Thunderclan!"
"Yeah! I'm from Thunderclan!" His eyes lit up too, with excitement. "It may be hard to smell the difference between any of us anymore, but, I grew up with the proudest cats I've ever known under tall, towering oaks that gave us lots of prey."
"Did you really climb trees?" I asked, curious about their way of life. I had so many questions I wanted to ask other clans, but... I never got to go to a gathering.
"Yeah, I could climb trees," Doveflick flicked his ears dovely. "But, when I first became an apprentice, I wasn't the greatest at it."
I sat down to listen, grooming my fur. The mix of white and brown helped calm me during my endless days of roaming the halls before I met Hopeclan. Honestly, the colour of my fur still helps. Oh right, Doveflick's story!
"I was so excited to be an apprentice, so I ran straight outside on my first patrol. I wanted to get a better view of all the clans, so I ran up a tree faster than a squirrel!" Doveflick reenacted the events with his paw as himself and his tail as the tree. It was pretty amusing. "I got up there, and for a moment, it was beautiful. Then. I looked down, and my body froze. They kept trying to call me down, and I had to shamefully scurry down a branch. Thing is," he unsheathed his claws, and one was visibly, well, not visible, "I lost a claw on one of the first branches I climbed, so I had to wait for the leader to come rescue me." He laughed, ears flattening in embarrassment. "I was stuck cleaning the elders beds for an entire moon."
"And?"
"And I don't regret it." He stretched and got up. "It was a mistake that cost me a claw, but I learned from it. Apprenticehood is for making mistakes, being a warrior is when you learn from them." Those words echoed in my head as we returned to camp. Maybe this weird experience would just be a learning experience for life in the clans. Maybe Starclan wanted this for my sake, not against it. I hang onto that thought.
It's been what's felt like days of wandering. This place was so yellow and angular, without a single cat in sight. I called out tirelessly day and night
And day
And night
Day
Night
Day
Day
Night
Night?
Night
Day?
Night?
Day?
Time, anyway,
until finally, voices replied. I saw two cats beckoning me with their tails. I opened my mouth, but a cat hissed and put his tail over his lips. His fur practically cut down the middle, half of him was white as snow, the other half a ginger tabby. I took his actions as warning and crouched down as I skidded towards them as quick as I could. I hoped I'd trip, to be honest. Maybe then I'd wake up from this dream. Maybe I'd actually know if I'm dead.
"You're lucky we found you." Half and half cat explained, "We've been here a while, and without us, you might not last long." Ominous. And cocky. You'd think they'd be glad to see another cat here, but nooooo they have to scold me first thing. My stomach gnawed at me and I was too tired to argue. Half and half cat introduced himself as Verbenachasm as we walked, making sure to whisper. The other one was called Rowanfall. She was nicer to me than Verbenachasm, though that was probably because didn't brag.
"I knew you'd be in that area." Rowanfall explained. "Whenever cats come in, I feel it in a way." Her amber eyes glistened with regret, perhaps missing her past life too. She flicked her chesnut colour tail as she pushed onwards.
"Like, a vision from Starclan?" I asked, because, damm, she was being vague.
"Well, I was quite the spiritual one back in Shadowclan. They offered to make me a medicine cat, but I declined. I wanted to help people, but, I couldn't be tied up in the medicine cat laws." She chuckled forlornly, "Maybe rejecting what could've been Starclan's wish led me here. We'll never know. But they must like me somewhat if they give me these aches in my bones to tell me who's around." I must've been frowning at her, because she changed her tune. Besides..." her tone shifted as a grin snuck onto her face. "I'll make a cat out of me yet." She stared ahead, gazing at some imaginary future.
Oh cool! A harebrain and an evil mastermind. What nice company.
As we walked, they pointed out scratch marks on the floor or walls, signs, all of which I would probably have to learn. If not for my dire circumstances I would be groaning and moaning. I just became an apprentice, and instead of training with my friends, I get stuck in yellow square world. My mom, my dad, the rest of windclan probably think I left them. Now, I'm alone. Lonely, alone loner with nobody! When we reached their settlement, the rest of the cats I saw were quite blurry- Oh. No, stupid eyes don't you dare start crying. So what if you're not going home just don't cry first thing!
"Oh dear, "a gentle voice spoke pitifully. It came from a white cat.Well, almost a white cat. He had one patch of brown on his thigh. Does this place strip your colour from you? Another reason for me to hate this place. "It's alright. You're safe now. Hopeclan has you." He rubbed into me, drying my tears- I mean my non-existent tears, with his face. Because I'm not crying. "I'm Doveflick," He smiled at me. "I'll make sure you're looked after, okay?"
He took me to a blue speckled tabby. Maybe the yellow has tainted my vision, but she definitely seemed bluer than most blue cats.
"I'm sorry you've found yourself here," she opened with an apology, "My name is Airstar. I'm the leader of this clan. What's yours?"
"I'm..." I hesitated, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. Has it been that long? "Frecklepaw."
"I knew you seemed young," Verbemachasm solemnly claimed. sitting to the right of Airstar. Presumably the deputy given how close they were. Do you remember anything about how you got here?"
"I was running through the fields of my clan. The smell of rabbit in my nose, the feeling of the breeze," I prolonged my speech just to remember what life felt like. "My catch ran into the forest. I knew I shouldn't go into Thunderclan territory, but it was barely over the border." Admitting that got me some glances, but I hardly believed they'd cause a fuss over it in a situation like this. I looked at all the figures around me, thin and dishearted. "But I did. I tripped and fell into a tree. I guess Starclan's punishing me for that now..."
"Starclans not punishing you." The ginger Tabby interjected, his rust coloured eyes staring through me. "They're barely even here. Unable to reach here. Unable to find you." His phrasing creeped me out, his tone even more so.
"Logfreeze, stop scaring him, he's had a hard day." Doveflick approached with a kitten on his heel to scold the cat. Logfreeze spoke back, something about harsh truths, but I was zoning out from the bickering. This was all too much. From isolation to 6 cats was making me weary. My knees wanted to fall. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I found cats, but I haven't talked to anyone in-
Oh.
They're pushing up against my flank?
Ah.
I fell.
Doveflick pushed some food into my mouth. Tastes like the nuts I ate for a dare once. Still, hunger makes any catch a great catch. I couldn't tell what animal it was, partially because I'm flickering back to conscious. They shuffled me into a corner. It looked like it was made of some shed fur and other unique materials. Some bones and hides meshed together to make one dark den. Darkness was practically nonexistent here. It was always too light to sleep, but not light enough to be nice.
"Nice den," I mumble to Airstar as I drink the water she gave me. I thought it was moss, but it just seemed like some of the floor was cut up.
"Thank you. I made it with what we could find. Its our one den." Maybe she said something else. I'm not sure. Exhaustion settled in and I drifted off into sleep.
