Pirate! Rhea Ripley x Reader;; pt. I
She honestly had no idea how she even got into this position. One minute she was eating with her father, the room silent save for the sound of cutlery clinking against ceramic plates, when suddenly her father cleared his throat and sat up straighter, a call for attention. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking about a lot of different things lately.” She looked up from her plate of food, not liking how this conversation had even started.
“Thinking is rather dangerous. At least, so they say.” The daughter tried to lighten the air that was getting thicker by the second. “Quiet, my dear.” Her father scolded, setting her aback. Usually, her father was quite a fan of their banter, as their relationship was a fairly playful one. They were equals, her and her father. She knew then that something must be very, very wrong if he were to shut her down like this. Dabbing his face with a napkin, her father sighed. “I haven’t been honest with you about the state of the plantation. We’re losing more and more crops to those... Pirates.” He growled out the last word, filled with malice. He began to glare at nothing in particular, or so Y/N thought, until she followed his gaze out the dining room window where they had a perfect view of the fields that grew the family’s lifeblood: sugar.
“We’re losing more and more each day, either to pestilence, or pirates who steal our crop on their way off the island. Well, I caught one of them red handed, running off, arms full of cane.” Y/N stayed silent, staring at her father wide eyed in curiosity. Her father never was quite a violent man, but she had a feeling that this was where the story was going. “I had one of our boys interrogate him, find out how they kept getting around the plantation without being seen. They gave a name. They’re one of Pete Dunne’s boys.”
Y/N poked around her plate. The name sounded familiar, one she’d heard from under the grape vine. He was captain of a ship, from what she understood. A real rough group. “Okay. So what are we doing about it?”
“Well; that’s what I wanted to talk about.” Her father sighed, causing her to look up from her plate. “He’s... He’s agreed to leave, with... With a wife, Y/N.”
“Please tell me this isn’t going where I think it’s going—-“ she dropped her fork, raking a hand down her face.
“There are no other options—“
“There are plenty of other options!” She retorted, her arms thrown up. Her father sent her a pointed look, provoking her to explain. “Literally anyone else!”
“Now, you know as good as I do that this island is small. Our business is the only thing keeping it afloat. You also know that this island is filled with nothing but hardworking men and their wives, old widows, and children. There are no eligible young ladies here, not anymore. They were all smart and left the island as soon as they could.” Her father scolded, palms flat against the table. “You are our only option. The fate of our little province is on your shoulders.”
“And am I right to assume that anything I say doesn’t matter? That you’ve already sealed my fate, father?” She was sobbing now, tears staining the sleeves of her gown as she pressed her palms to her face to hide her crying eyes.
“I’m...” her father drifted off, regretful. “I’m afraid I have, little dove.”
“Well, fine then. How long do I have?” She stood abruptly, the wooden legs squealing against the ground in protest.
“He’ll— he’ll be returning at the end of the week. Friday night he’ll meet you, and Saturday you’ll be wed.” Her father admitted, receiving no response. “Please don’t be angry with me, little dove.”
“I’m not angry with you, father.” She didn’t feel the least bit sorry when her father flinched, unused to the cold formality, her voice like steel. “But I want you to know that I will never forgive you.”
Her father didn’t respond when she walked away, her shoes clicking against the floors as she retreated to her room. As soon as her door shut, she exploded, throwing and breaking everything in sight. A broken picture frame tore at her gown, which she proceeded to rip to shreds until she was left in her corset and under clothes.
“I have to do something.” She whispered, eyeing the glass of the broken picture frame, now freeing the old photograph of her, her father, and her brother. She immediately began to think, what would her brother do? “He’d leave. Have a fresh start. Look out for number one.” She whispered, clearing the photograph of the tiny pieces of glass. Folding it, she sat it on her desk, eyeing a particularly large piece of glass from the frame. She had already decided what she had to do.
“Well, if we’re leaving...” she whispered, fingers lightly tracing the intricate hairdo her locks were constructed in. She found the large pin keeping it all together, sending her long hair tumbling down her shoulders. Picking out the multitude of smaller pins, she sighed. “Then we need to do something about this.” She gripped handfuls of her long, shiny hair, picking up the shard of glass and hacking away. She could feel liquid following between her fingers; blood, as she sawed away at her tresses, but it only encouraged her to go further. Soon, she had cut her hair enough to where it hung just above her shoulders. She frowned, looking at the tears that had made their way down her face. Unsatisfied, she parted the front of what was left of her hair, and gave herself bangs. Quite good ones, too, even if they were done by a piece of broken glass.
An hour later she’d wrapped her hand, brushed what was left of her hair, and changed into a pair of trousers and shirt that had once belonged to her brother, donning his old riding jacket, made of brown leather. She felt much better, but while she did, she couldn’t ignore that she was still crying. “This is a new start for me.” She whispered to her reflection. “For us.” She corrected, picking up the picture of her family that she’d folded and left on top of the desk, tucking it in the waistband of her pants. “I can’t look back, brother. Just like you, I’m finally getting out of here.” She smiled through her tears. It was like she could feel his presence, telling her he was proud of her. And she was sure, wherever he was hiding currently, that he was.
The hardest part of escaping was going over the garden wall. Ever since her father discovered it was humans, not animals stealing their crop, he employed security men to watch the fields and around the property at night for vandals. Luckily for Y/N, they knew they were getting in somehow, and she figured that she knew. Just outside of her room was the garden, surrounded by a huge sun bleached brick wall covered in ivy. It was so huge that no man in their right mind would try to climb over it. Her father joked that he had strategically put her room by the garden wall all those years ago not only so Y/N could wake up each morning with a view of the fresh roses and hydrangeas their mother was growing, but also so he could make certain that no young suitors would be climbing into her room late at night, as it was almost a fact of life that no one could get over the garden wall. She would’ve smiled at the memory, had she not remembered just how much that memory contrasted her current situation.
She had decided the most efficient way to get over the wall was to build up to it, so she spent most of the night moving large rocks she found around the property while sneaking around the security patrolling the perimeter to build a sort of ladder by balancing boulders, but once she got to there front of the property successfully, Boulder in hand, she spotted an opening. The front gate of their land, left unattended. She dropped the boulder in the grass with a tired huff, looking over her shoulders. This had to be some trick; at least, she thought. No security was in sight. She shook her head in disappointment. No wonder they were getting robbed every night. Sticking as close to the ground and the shadows as she could, Y/N slid through the field. She was almost at the gates when she heard a guard approaching.
“Shit!” She hissed under her breath, jumping into the nearest tree to hide herself. What she hadn’t expected was to run into someone else.
“Fuck!” She heard someone else hiss, and the next thing she knew, a knife was pressed at her throat.
“Wh-“ a hand was slapped over her mouth before she could finish her sentence, pulling her into their chest to hide her further.
“If you want to stay alive you’re going to stay very, very quiet.” The voice whispered harshly, and she nodded very carefully so her captor wouldn’t slit her throat, watching the guard walk past. All she could do was listen to the slowed breathing of her captor, and try to match that same pattern so they wouldn’t be discovered. This however was extremely difficult, as she felt her vision dimming due to a lack of oxygen. She had no idea how they were able to do this, but she guessed it was due to having to sneak around guards for goods so often. As soon as the guard turned the corner out of sight, she was released from her captors chest, the knife still however very close to her throat.
“Who are you and why shouldn’t I kill you?” Her captor demanded before she could get a word in.
“P-please, I just ask to leave this place. I don’t care where. You’re a pirate, yes?” She demanded, shaking. The man who held a knife against her throat nodded, albeit begrudgingly. “With what captain are you sailing? Please, I need to know.”
“What captain? Ripley, I’m sailing with Ripley.”
“Captain Ripley?” Y/N tried out the name in her mouth, but it was unfamiliar. She couldn’t recall a captain by the name of Ripley. “Fine. Listen, my father owns this property. He intends to send me off very soon. I will pay your captain for safe passage to—-“ she heard the footsteps returning, this time accompanied by a voice.
“Hey! I think there’s somebody over here!”
She began to panic. “To— to anywhere! I don’t care! Please, I have lots of money, however much your captain needs—“
“Shut up and run.” Her captor grumbled, obviously not happy with their own last minute decision to help her. He dropped the knife he previously had against her neck, grabbing her hand and essentially dragging her behind him as he darted for the open gates to the property, guards yelling for backup as they chased them.
Y/N has never realized just how much she hated running until she ran that night, they’d only been running for about a minute, but the way her lungs burned, she’d believe they’d been running for thirty. The way her still nameless captor was leading her didn’t help either, dragging her by the arm, pulling her in different directions in hopes of losing the guards, it was all very unpleasant. It was just when she was sure that she was going to pass out that her captor stopped.
“Okay, I think we lost them.” He sat on a barrel in the alleyway they were hiding in, loading his bag with the crop he’d managed to sneak away with, which was a shocking amount, if Y/N were being honest. “So, you’re the sugar baron’s daughter, huh.” He sized her up, still loading his bag. “What’s your name, kid?”
Y/N struggled to respond, leaning against the wall for support, holding her palm to her chest in hopes of quelling her heart rate. “Y/N.” She wheezed, grimacing. “You are?”
“Johnny. Johnny Gargano, at your service.” He grinned, offering a hand. She shakily took it. “So what exactly are you running from, Y/N?” He swung just legs like he were on a swing and not a barrel, moving onto the next bag to full with sugar cane.
“My father’s gone behind my back. He’s done something unforgivable.” Johnny hummed in acknowledgment so she knew he was listening, still working on that second bag. “He’s promised me to someone, a man I’ve never met.” He made another sound of acknowledgment, this time sounding disapproving.
“Bastard. Hate it when they do that.” He tsked, Y/N almost grinning. She had to admit, when he didn’t have a knife to her throat, Johnny was nice to be around.
“He’s supposed to be meeting me Friday. Then we’re supposed to be wed the next day. I refuse, so here I am, asking for the help of a pirate, who I found stealing my fathers crop, also known as the reason why I’m being sent away...” Y/N drifted off, frowning.
“... Sorry?” Johnny grimaced, unsure of what to say.
“It doesn’t matter now.” Y/N shrugged, realizing that while they were talking, Johnny had loaded a third bag, which he was offering to her.
“I suppose not.” He shrugged the two heavier bags over his shoulders. “Cap’s real understanding. I’m sure they’ll have no problems getting you out, especially when you mention you’ve got dough. They might seem like a real hardass, but they’re a real softy underneath it all.” He winked. Y/N nodded, obviously nervous. “Don’t sweat it, kid. We’re gonna help you.”
At this, she seemed slightly reassured, and they made their way to their captain’s ship. It was huge, the largest vessel she’d ever seen. “Like it?” Johnny grinned, noticing how Y/N stopped to stare in awe. “They stole it. Used to belong to the British.” He sounded prideful. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to some of the crew. It’s late, you might not meet with Ripley until morning.”
“What, does your captain go to bed early to rise early?” She was sarcastic, rolling her eyes. Getting a good sleep didn’t seem like it would be much of a priority for a pirate.
“No, they’ve probably gone and drunk themself to sleep or found a partner to retire with for the night.” Johnny replied bluntly, snickering as the young lady choked on her own saliva, not expecting his response.
Stepping on board was not what Y/N expected. She expected it to be trashy and terrible, but what she got was the exact opposite. There were spare bottles spread around often, sure, but other than that there was mostly nothing out of place, lanterns strung from posts above everyone’s heads, tables and chairs brought above deck. It looked like a party, almost. “Ah, Y/N.” Johnny pulled her along, an extra pep in his step. “This is my better half, Candice.”
“And who are you?” Candice was bright. She seemed to literally glow, her soft smile radiating light, her hair the lightest shade of blonde Y/N could think of. Candice was likely the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, and it was hard not to stare at her in awe.
“Y-Y/N.” She stammered, clutching the straps of the bag of sugar cane.
“She’s looking for help.” Johnny explained, arm around Candice’s shoulders “Willing to pay Ripley for safe transport to wherever.”
“Hm, lucky you.” Candice looked coy, the light skirt she was wearing billowing around her ankles with the wind. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about this place. Hard to leave, but impossible to ever go back.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” Y/N nodded awkwardly. “I’m just hoping it’s true.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Candice looked up at the moon, then turning to her husband. “You need to get this below deck,” she adjusted his coat’s collar, referring to the heavy bags of cane that shifted the jacket in the first place, then turning to Y/N. “And you, need a place to sleep. I can’t put you anywhere else without the captain’s permission, so I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night below deck, my dear. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’ll be comfortable to the best of my ability.” Candice promised, sounding pitiful for Y/N’s current situation.
“I can’t thank you enough.” Y/N almost whispered, overwhelmed by the kindness of these strangers, pirates of all people.
“Don’t worry. In due time.” Candice winked, but Y/N was sure she didn’t wanna know what she meant.
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