Every day feels like a battle—against loss, against despair, against the uncertainty of tomorrow.
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My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my
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@gazavetters #309
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My phone is F U C K E D 😭 the screen keeps glitching even though I got it fixed, changed the battery and freed up my storage space. It’s an iPhone 12 so that’s probably why Stupid planned obsolescence. I don’t want to buy a new iPhone. Does anyone have suggestions for phone brands? Preferably not associated with Israel or without AI.
Synopsis: Kaku (who couldn't make it more obvious that he's completely and utterly smitten with you) comes to the rescue when you get stood up on a date.
Word Count: 7k
Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Baker!Reader, Fluff, First Date, Angst
Song: If Only My Heart Could Speak (Acoustic Session, Live from Nashville) by Cody Fry
Notes: 13 year old me was so completely and utterly in love with this man it wasn't even funny
Paulie always wondered silently whether Kaku knew what he looked like when he was talking to you. In the past, he noted the times when Kaku’s attention immediately abandoned whatever task was in front of him the moment you stepped into the vicinity. Paulie stopped blinking at the numerous occasions Kaku gradually floated toward you before getting swept up in conversation for as long as any of the foremen would let him. But this was an amalgam of all the moments he’d been trying to ignore if he’d ever seen one.
Because it was times like these in particular—when Kaku was so leaned over the chest-height fence he was one motion from jumping it altogether—that Paulie thought for sure that Kaku had to have some awareness of the way he looked.
Kaku’s tools lay forgotten to the side as he leaned against the fence, his arms crossed over the top. His boot wedged between a section where the chain-link had deteriorated, and his heel absentmindedly moved back and forth like a wagging tail. A plastic bag with the remains of a wrapper and a container hung from his wrist. A light smear frosting was still smudged on the side of his mouth.
“You’re really not going?” You huffed, swiping the sweet speck off his skin with your thumb.
A light chuckle teased from Kaku’s lips, his head tilted to the side. “They’re just lights,” he hummed, his eyes softening as he watched your tongue poise for argument.
“They are not just lights,” you argued, a deep pout forming on your mouth as you wiped your hand on the sleeve of Kaku’s jacket. He didn’t seem to mind. “Water 7 lights up once a year—”
Kaku couldn’t help himself. “Oh, so you mean it happens every year,” he interjected, his closed-lipped grin spreading.
“Kaku!” you scolded.
He didn’t even flinch as you swatted him on the arm, laughing his hardy boyish laugh at the playful annoyance. Instead, the light smack only melted him more. If he leaned any harder over the fence, he’d break it.
“We live on a beautiful island that lights up once a year. You’ve lived here, how long? Five years?” you debated. Kaku nodded once, the corners of his mouth still slightly upturned. “And you’ve never been to the lights festival.”
“I’ve always been workin’, darlin’,” Kaku hummed.
“That’s because you work into second shift like a workaholic.” You rolled your eyes. Kaku would never tell you he only takes the extra shift because it means he gets to see you on your walk home from work. “But even that’s not an excuse, you know. I know what time the yard closes, and you could make it if you wanted to. You just don’t want to go.”
“Are you inviting me to go with you?” Kaku probed, his heel still waggling back and forth.
Your voice stalled as your lips parted and closed. Kaku pursed his growing grin as you looked away. “Well,” you started with a flavor of nonchalance that should have served as a warning, “I figured I’d tag along with some of the foremen. But since you’re working, I guess I’ll tell the guy who invited me earlier that I’ll go with him.”
Your words swiftly wiped the smile off Kaku’s lips.
“Wait, what?” He blinked.
“Kaku!” Paulie’s voice cut through the yard, booming over the sounds of tools and woodworking. “Stop flirting and give us a hand over here!”
Kaku’s ears just about turned red.
“Well, I’ll tell you what everything was like tomorrow,” you sighed. You bid him goodbye for the day, turning on your heel with a newfound mission.
Kaku had no idea who asked you to attend the festival, but the idea of you tracking him down to say yes haunted him for the rest of the shift. Who was it? Did he know him? And if he did, how unethical would it be to apply his skill set to… remove your date for that night? Kaku was hardly the reckless sort, but the thought crossed his mind. He was certainly skilled enough to pull it off, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
He tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on the board in front of him. He patted his pocket, then the other one. Kaku continued to stare down at the board as his hands searched his toolbelt, and just when he turned his attention to the ground—
“Behind your ear, Romeo,” Lulu gruffed as he passed by.
Kaku’s hand immediately shot to the pencil behind his ear as Lulu continued, flagging down Paulie, who was headed in the opposite direction. “Help him,” he mumbled. “The kid’s down bad.”
Paulie blinked, his head craning over his shoulder to get more information out of Lulu, but he had already disappeared somewhere into the yard. Paulie glanced warily at where Kaku stood, pencil in hand, as he measured a plank on a sawhorse. Paulie continued to glance him over as he approached, folding his clipboard under his arm.
“Hey, bud,” Paulie grumbled around the cigar between his lips. His eyes followed Kaku’s markings. “Rough day?”
“Doin’ just peachy,” Kaku muttered back, snapping his measuring tape back into the reel.
Paulie frowned. “Kaku… That plank isn’t six feet. It’s not even five. What the hell are you doing?” His gaze returned to Kaku’s face, watching the scrunched look of shock wash over him.
Kaku glanced at the plank, then his hand shot to his measuring tape, unfurling it slightly before his eyes closed with a sigh. He’d measured from the wrong side.
“I take it that your conversation earlier… You know, when you were at the fence. I take it that it didn’t go well?” Paulie asked slowly. He didn’t like prying into these things. He didn’t want to pry.
“He fumbled, that’s what he did!” one of the workmen shouted over the noise, turning half the yard’s heads.
Kaku didn’t look up from his plank, already halfway through erasing his earlier pencil markings. His ears burned pink.
“Hey, guys—come on, now—” Paulie winced, holding up a hand in the general direction of the workman, but the others had already smelled blood in the water.
“We’ve seen him trippin’ over his own shadow all day,” another builder interjected, wiping his hands on a rag, “Thought you were gonna topple that fence for sure, Kaku.”
A few surrounding workmen chuckled in the way they typically did when they were shooting the shit around the yard, gradually lifting their attention from their tasks to glance mischievously amongst each other.
“Which one of you idiots asked before him?” one of them hollered, putting a boot up on a nearby stack of planks. “Whoever it was, Kaku’s buyin’ him a beer for doin’ his job for ‘em!” he yelled, waving his dirty rag in the air like it was a goddamn yagara race.
A dull roar erupted. Someone whistled. A few vulgar comments were exchanged before Kaku straightened his back, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to look unbothered.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaku said sternly, his usual chipper exterior having been lost since he trudged back from the fence. An uncharacteristic exhaustion had gotten to him. That much was clear as he shot the workmen a look that wasn’t quite a glare, just deeply done. And to a lack of surprise, Kaku’s word was enough.
“Hey, man, you know we’re just givin’ ya’ a hard time.”
“Relax, bud.”
The rest of the workmen resumed their activities, moving on rather quickly as the regular bustle of the yard resumed. Kaku turned back to his plank and promptly jotted down the wrong measurement again.
Paulie blinked down at it.
“Yeah, no,” Paulie said, shaking his head. “With all due respect, you’re useless like this. Go home.” Paulie unceremoniously swiped the pencil from Kaku’s hand.
Kaku’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned. “What? I can finish—”
“You couldn’t finish the alphabet right now.” Paulie shook his head. “You don’t need to be on this shift anyway.”
Kaku took a slow, labored breath, refusing to let the tension he held in his shoulders manifest on his face. He set his pencil down softly. A cloud of sawdust flew into the air as Kaku clapped his hands together.
“Yeah,” Kaku said steadily, still somewhat lost in thought as he began to wrap up his things. “I think you’re right.”
Paulie nodded. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be better.”
Kaku nodded back, offering a slight, close-lipped smile. It was the most normal he’d appeared all afternoon. “I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”
They didn’t exchange another word as Kaku walked out of the yard. The sounds of machinery, tools, and shouting had long since become white noise to him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a cotton-candy hue over the sky.
Just as he was about to exit the yard, he met Lucci’s eye. Kaku offered him a nod, but received none in return, and continued passing.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Hattori cooed, and Kaku nearly stopped in his tracks right there. But Lucci continued his work, brushing silently past him.
***
When Kaku returned to his apartment, he’d hardly taken his boots off before he realized he didn’t want to be there. His hand paused at the zipper of his jacket, his gaze glazing over the quiet darkness of his living space, which stood in stark contrast to the restlessness that ruminated inside him. And so, he quickly relaced his shoes, placed down his tools, and exited.
Kaku took a running start, jogging from his front door to the street, before taking off down the street. He took his usual route around the city, his long-legged strides eating the pavement in steady, rhythmic measures as he jumped over canals and then rooftops.
He’d known you about just as long as he’d been living on Water 7. After his initial grocery run to stock his newly acquired apartment, he must’ve sat in your bakery for hours. He’d placed his bag of groceries on the table, leaning in his chair with a plate of the best castella he’d ever tasted in his hand.
Kaku would never forget the way you smiled at him from behind the counter, the conversation flowing between you from the moment you asked, “Oh, you’re not from around here, are you?”
Yes, he sat there at the table right next to the case for hours, watching as you took orders and interacted with customers, and in between, you still found time to continue speaking to him as if the conversation had never been paused.
To boot, the bakery wasn’t too far from the yard. More of Kaku’s paycheck disappeared into your bakery than he’d comfortably acknowledge. You probably acknowledged something similar, because it wasn’t too long before you were dropping by the only section where the walls around the shipyard were low enough to have a conversation over, a package of sweets in hand. And, boy, did you make a mean banana foster.
He was selling the role of Kaku, and if someone as stunning as you decided to gift him a little treat now and then, Kaku wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Or at least, that was how he justified it.
But it was moments like these—when he saw you standing alone on one of the bridges near the outskirts of the city, dressed up and alone—that it took a little more effort to convince himself.
Kaku, the Galley-La foreman, sweet on the owner of a nearby bakery. It rounded the disguise out nicely. A convenient fiction. Too convenient.
He was already leaping over the canal before he could think. The sound of his feet landing on the stone road caused you to turn instinctively. You blinked, your expression morphing in the time it took you to lay eyes on him and before he spoke. Your gaze widened slightly in surprise, then you glanced away with a flicker of sheepishness before you returned to him with a soft relief that washed over your face.
“Evenin’,” Kaku said, tipping the tip of his hat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He glanced subtly around. “Just… saw a familiar face.”
That was it. That was the excuse he’d settled on. It definitely wasn’t because he had simply seen you, and his body moved on its own.
“You didn’t,” you sighed, absentmindedly checking the road behind you from over your shoulder as if you still half-expected someone else. “Turns out my date wasn’t much of one.” You blinked for a moment before turning your attention back to Kaku. “You’re out early.”
Kaku rubbed the back of his neck. “Paulie let me off not too long ago.”
You let out an amused huff, your lips finally forming a slight smile. “And you just let that happen?”
Kaku shrugged, stepping toward you, unable to help the way in which he matched your grin. “I had a feeling.”
You raised a brow. “You had a feeling my date was going to stand me up?” you quipped, shaking your head. “Don’t tell me you killed him!”
Kaku’s breath hitched a beat. Killed him? Only in the abstract sense that Kaku, the foreman, would think about rearranging someone’s teeth after they disrespected someone as kind and beautiful as you. But he wasn’t supposed to think that way. Not as this version of Kaku. Not out loud. Not the way he had already thought about it earlier.
And then you laughed, and the very sound dispelled any tension in the atmosphere like a warm pan melting butter.
Kaku snapped himself out of it, huffing a slow, easy chuckle to harmonize with yours.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “Didn’t lay a hand on the guy. Tempting, though.”
An ember of pride flared in his chest upon hearing you laugh.
“Now, as long as you don’t mind walking with a guy who’s covered in sawdust still—” Kaku offered you a crooked half-smile, patting his shoulder in emphasis as a small cloud of sawdust erupted from the fabric. — “I’ve never seen the lights before.”
Your face lit up as you breathed in a light gasp. You immediately grabbed Kaku by the hand, whisking him off into the city.
***
The two of you didn’t get too far before you slowed your pace. The city didn’t transform as much as it softened under the lights. The streets were the same. Familiar water flowed through the canals, and citizens and tourists alike filled the streets that ran along the stone buildings Kaku walked past every day. But tonight, everything was illuminated in warm, golden lights from string lights that hung between rooftops.
“Did they really put light under the curb this year?” You knelt, glancing over the edge of the walkway into the illuminated water. Sure enough, there were lines of waterproof lights that ran along the under-lip of the walkable streets, casting a magical glow into the water. “That’s so cool!”
“It’s…” Kaku started. The lights, if he were to be honest, were very pretty. But… he wasn’t paying attention to the light. In your excitement, you didn’t seem to notice the way he stared at the glowing spark in your dark pupils; he could hardly see anything else. Part of him felt guilty. He was hardly listening to you. “It’s very pretty.”
Only when Kaku spoke did you turn your glittering gaze to him, an innocent, captivating look in your eyes as if he’d just told you the very secrets of the universe.
“Well, we definitely need to see the city square,” you exclaimed as you stood.
Kaku continued to stare only at you—only at that growing star of pure joy that blazed in your eye as you grabbed his hand to lead him down the way. And perhaps for a moment, it was just the two of you occupying that walkway on the outskirts of town. All the festivities were farther inland, and even as music played in the distance and the water rushed by you, Kaku could only hear the quiet.
For just a moment, as you pointed at the simple lights along your path and held your hand in his, it seemed like you and Kaku were the only people in the entirety of Water 7. If you had told him such a thing, Kaku would have believed the fallacy in an instant.
The corners of his mouth turned upward, pushing his face to crease dimples into his cheeks.
“I can hardly wait,” Kaku breathed, and he meant every word.
He followed next to you as you led the way. Hell, he probably would have followed you to the ends of the earth if you asked. But for now, the “ends of the earth” would have to settle for being the illuminated city square on the island of Water 7.
Lights covered every building in the city, from churches to schools to restaurants. The types of lights varied by district, and there was certainly every type of light currently available to humanity. Lanterns, fairy lights, bulbs, electric and gas lamps of all kinds, and sometimes a combination.
The elementary school was lit with fairy lights and paper lanterns along the entrance. Ships made from popsicle sticks were displayed in the windows. The school doors were open. Parents and children alike carted in and out. What appeared to be an art show of children’s artwork was taking place in the lobby. Carts giving out candied fruits and sweets were parked just outside.
“Wow, color me impressed,” Kaku mused, looking up at the little boats in the windows. “These look a lot better than the ones I used to make when I was a kid.” He nodded a few times, seeming to glance over the tiny armada as if they were actual ships.
“Of course, you made tiny boats as a kid,” you hummed, bumping his shoulder playfully against yours.
Kaku hadn’t thought about it before. There wasn’t much time to be a kid on Guanhao, but the little he remembered outside of training was those tiny boats. He’d make boats out of nearly anything.
“Newspaper, popsicle sticks, anything I could get my hands on,” Kaku said, twisting his story just enough to sound normal. “I used to go to the sea every day to see how long my design would float before going under.” He nodded almost nostalgically, breathing out a tiny huff from his nose.
“So, the whole shipwright thing was fate, huh?”
When he looked at you, you already had your attention on him. The glint of the fairy lights reflected like stars in your dark pupils.
Part of him always wondered the same thing. He was still somewhat young for an agent, and this was his longest undercover assignment thus far. So, when Kaku received word that he was going to be assigned to this island and work as a shipwright, his heart nearly beat out of his chest.
Because his one interest outside training—the one thing he needed to put to the side for the sake of his training—was going to be his profession for the foreseeable future.
A spark of that giddiness flashed across his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, now that you say it, I suppose it was.”
“I think that’s really lucky,” you said, watching the golden glow of the school cast out onto the pathway. “I don’t think everyone gets to do what they wanted to do when they were kids… but you did. That’s a real hero story, right there. From popsicle sticks to… oh, whatever it is you use in the yard.” You held your palms outward in emphasis as if you were imagining the title of a new comic.
“I don’t know, we might still have some uses for popsicle sticks on some of our ships.” He shrugged teasingly. “Might have to be the new innovation.”
“I’ll alert the media.” You winked at him, and he nearly turned as red as the lanterns around you.
Children continued to flit around you, sparklers in hand. The rush of the canals in the background had long become white noise to you both.
“Did you always want to be a baker?” Kaku asked, his hands clasped behind his back as the two of you floated toward one of the food stalls.
“I think so,” you considered, crossing an arm over your chest and touching the knuckle of your index finger to your lips. “I really liked baking when I was younger, but, uh—okay, you have to promise not to laugh.” You turned to him suddenly, clapping your hands once.
Kaku immediately blinked in apparent shock.
“Promise not to laugh?” Kaku wondered aloud, his dimples still ever-present.
“Promise not to laugh,” you repeated, turning to extend your index finger with emphasis.
Kaku held a hand over his heart, slowly blinking as he leaned slightly forward. “I solemnly swear.” He bowed, ever the gentleman.
You seemed satisfied with that answer as both of you moved up in line. You squared your shoulders, hands clasped together. “When I was really young—” You tilted your head to the side. — “I got it in my head that I desperately wanted to be a government spy,” you admitted, shaking your head a few times.
If Kaku had been drinking something, he might’ve spat it out. The look that flashed across his gaze was more evident than any semblance of emotion Kaku had ever let slip before. In all five years of living undercover in Water 7, he’d neveraccidentally let his thoughts show on his face. That was a fundamental skill that was drilled into him during his time on Guanhao. A core, absentminded tool he never had to check twice.
And yet, there he stood. A whole lifetime of training, undone by one simple sentence.
But it wasn’t enough that your words had pierced the blink spot in his training. No, the worst had to be the way you noticed his expression flicker, cocking your head to the side again.
God, he watched you notice.
His lips parted to recover.
“I just… didn’t expect that,” he laughed softly. A signature Kaku laugh. Friendly. Light. Definitely not a government agent laugh.
“I know I don’t really look the government spy part,” you continued, looking absentmindedly at the lights around you. “I mean, what would I do? Smuggle secret messages in pastries?”
Kaku’s composure fluctuated as you moved up in line. The fact that he could list at least ten bakery-based dead-drop methods in that moment was beside the point. He had to nod. He had to agree. Say something. And that something was not—
Hollow buns with messages inside.
Messages printing on the bottom of cupcake wrappers.
“You… might be surprised what counts as spy work,” he forced out another breathy laugh, trying not to make it sound too obvious he was speaking from experience.
Messages disguised as decorative writing.
Burnaway pastry paper.
“Oh, so I could be a spy?” you snickered with a disbelieving roll of your eyes. You lightly knocked Kaku’s shoulder with your own.
Menu codes.
Flavor codes.
“Can’t let down that inner child of yours now, can you?” Kaku offered, just as the two of you reached the counter. “Do you happen to be hungry?”
Recipe ciphers.
Order phrases.
“I’ve been waiting for festival food all day,” you confessed, and that was all you needed to say.
Kaku leaned an elbow on the counter, facing you with a sweetly mischievous expression as he told the vendor, “One of everything, please.”
You gaped at him a moment, somewhere between shocked and impressed. But just as you were fishing out the proper amount of berries, Kaku paid the entire cost in full.
You pouted slightly. “Okay, you have to let me pay you back for that.”
Kaku pretended not to hear you as he received the first of your snacks—a very ornate bouquet of candied fruits. “Hold this for a sec, why don’t ‘cha?”
You playfully shook your head, receiving the fruits in concession. “I’m going to pay you back next time,” you declared as Kaku handed another festival snack to you.
“Right, right, sure thing,” he teased, having no intention of ever letting you do such a thing.
Messages written under eggs in a carton.
Ciphers decorated into bread crust.
***
By the time the two of you had received your snacks, Kaku wished he had brought his toolbelt along. It turns out that one of everything was a lot of food. And so, you trekked down the street to find a good spot to camp out and eat some of your cargo.
You found a set of stairs to sit on, which overlooked a few intersecting canals. Your strategy appeared to be to make the rounds of all the snacks, trying to keep things somewhat even as your favorite dwindled slightly faster. Kaku, however, was trying to hide just how much candied citrus he’d inhaled.
Yagara bulls swam through the water, carting their little boats. Their reins were decked with colored lights, and many of them wore different costumes. You spied a few wearing pirate caps and a handful more wore masks, horns, and animal ears. You saw some in the distance that appeared to have been dressed up as Galley-La foremen.
You stood back up, touching Kaku’s arm lightly as you pointed. “Hey, uh, do you think that one’s supposed to be you?”
Kaku absentmindedly leaned toward you to follow your line of sight. The yagara bull wore a white Galley-La hat and a lopsided orange-and-blue shawl around its long neck. The reins were decorated with fake tools like a belt. But the real striking detail was the long, papier-mache nose that sat on its snout. You looked toward him with an almost tentative smile.
He looked at the bull for a moment, and then the corners of his lips flickered upward. A wide grin broke out over his mouth, and then he barked out a sharp, sudden laugh. Another broke loose, even louder this time, and before he could stop himself, Kaku doubled over, his hands blacked on his knees. His shoulders shook as an ugly, shrill sound halfway between disbelief and pure delight tore from him, loud enough to startle a passing dog.
“Oh—oh, come on,” he gasped, gesturing a whole hand toward the bull. “Look at it! Look at that!”
You laughed with him, yours far softer than Kaku’s. You were far more invested in Kaku’s complete collapse over the yagara bull. He was always rather chipper but mostly work-oriented. But now, as Kaku struggled to straighten out, still choking on his own laughter, you found yourself laughing harder at him than at the bull.
This wasn’t the polite, sunny Kaku you knew from the yard. In fact, you didn’t think you had ever seen him this undone. Perhaps he came close when he visited your bakery, but never like this. He was already young as it was, but something about his laughter almost made him look younger, lighter, and boyish.
“You know—” You grinned, taking your chances as Kaku was just beginning to regain his composure. — “I think you need to go over and say hi.”
The expression of realization took over Kaku’s face in an instant. His eyes widened, and he gaped slightly.
“C’mon.”
You grabbed his sleeve again, making for the nearest bridge. Kaku followed like he had no control over his own legs, grinning like an idiot the whole time as you weaved through the crowd. You waved your free hand to flag down the riders.
The riders seemed to understand, waving back to you as they pulled over to the edge of the canal. As you grew closer, it became clear that Kaku wasn’t the only one who’d had his likeness stolen by a yagara bull.
Yagara Lucci sported a top hat, a goatee, and angry eyebrows. Yagara Paulie wore goggles on its forehead. A fake cigar was strapped to the cheekpiece of the reins. Tilestone and Lulu were also there, cheekily donning their respective facial hair and work belts.
“Oh, now that’s just mean,” Kaku mused, beaming through every word. He caught more details up close: the little tools shoved into the toolbelt, the way the hat was cut to accommodate the bull’s crest, and the excessive length the creators gave the nose.
A group of kids no older than ten sat in the boats, each driving their own bull, which were now stopped in a loose line. The one in the boat pulled by the Kaku bull stared with wide eyes at Kaku (the man), hitting his friend on the arm without looking.
“Dude, dude, it’s the guy! It’s the real guy!”
“Do you like ‘em?” A girl missing front teeth waved enthusiastically as she stood. She gestured to the entire ensemble of bulls. “We made ‘em ourselves!”
Kaku stepped forward, hands on his hips and grinning widely. “Heh, that’s me. That—that’s me as a yagara bull,” he wheezed.
You pressed a hand to your mouth, hardly stifling a snort. “They… got them all. That one looks just like Lucci.” You pointed to the very angled eyebrows that resembled mirrored sevens more than facial hair.
Kaku squatted down so he was eye level with the kids. “You all made these?” he asked, his voice light but undeniably impressed.
“Yeah!” the group chorused, their boats rocking on the illuminated water.
“What? No way!” he teased, turning toward the Kaku horse. He glanced it over, evaluating it as if it were a real ship. “That’s some craftsmanship.”
“It’s true!” A boy in a Galley-La hat exclaimed. “I painted the hammers and the hats and—and the name tags!”
“I made the eyebrows!” A little girl with dried paint still on her hands shouted.
“I also made the eyebrows!”
“And the beards!”
“No kidding!” Kaku bellowed, gaping with exaggeration. “Did you paint the eyebrows on the Lucci’s bull? That thing looks meaner than the real one.” He gestured toward it, and the yagara bull flashed a sinister-looking grin.
The girl who’d done it giggled. “I made the beard too!”
“Well, you got it spot on.” Kaku offered her a high five, and she gleefully accepted. “Excellent work. We might need all of you down at the shipyard to help us.” He went down the line, stretching whichever way he needed to give each kid their well-deserved high five.
“Okay, I have to get a picture,” you said, pulling out a photography snail.
Kaku sat at the edge of the canal, the bull bearing his likeness right behind him. It rested its muzzle on Kaku’s shoulder as the kids gathered around as safely as they could with paper lanterns in their hands.
“Smile!” you said.
“What are you talkin’ about? I haven’t stopped smiling since we got here!” Kaku grinned, and you snapped the picture.
Kaku laughed again, finally standing to his full height, and once both of you bid farewell to the children, you continued to see the rest of the lights. And for the briefest moment, as the night darkened around you and the lanterns only glowed brighter, Kaku forgot entirely that he was supposed to be undercover at all.
***
The two of you stayed out far later than either of you had anticipated. You continued to walk the city even as vendors began packing up their stalls before taking a water taxi across the canals, even though Kaku could have leaped the two of you over them with less than a step of a running start. And at the end of the night, you ended up back at your bakery.
It was the first building Kaku had seen in a while that was dark inside, save for one running security light around your cash register. You fished out the key, unlocking the door to an establishment Kaku had stepped foot in a million times before.
“Still have some room for some castella?” you asked, smiling at him gently as you held the door open.
Kaku could have eaten all the candied fruit in the city, and he’d still have room for your baked goods.
“Always,” he said, and you entered the bakery together.
“I don’t have much left out front,” you admitted, your head tilting to the side with a somewhat sheepish expression. “I didn’t think I’d sell out on a festival day, but it seems like people really had a taste for sweets today.”
The air inside still carried the warm scent of flour and butter, clean and sweet. Most of the display cases were wiped clean, the trays stacked neatly behind the glass. It wasn’t an all too unfamiliar sight to Kaku. Sometimes, if he made it too late, you’d already be sold out. But…
You walked toward the counter, circumventing the cases. Kaku stood in the middle of the shop, breathing in the space. He’d never been here after dark—you always closed before then—and in the hush of a world winding down, the bakery felt strangely ethereal, like a place suspended outside ordinary time.
“Stay right there. I set something aside earlier,” you said with a lifted finger before disappearing into the kitchen.
“You set something aside for me?” Kaku mused with barely restrained joy.
“I thought I’d give it to you tomorrow!” you called, your voice muffled as the swinging door flapped back and forth in the doorway.
He heard the faint clicking of a door and the rustling of parchment. Kaku glanced around the bakery, which suddenly felt a lot smaller than it usually did. He wiped his clammy palms on the sides of his pants, internally blaming his proximity to ovens as the reason his collar suddenly felt so warm.
When you returned, you were balancing a warm loaf of castells on a small wooden board. The thick pieces were fresh and steaming, already filling the air with a delicious fragrance. You set down two plates on his usual table along with utensils.
“Tea?” you asked softly.
Kaku hardly trusted himself to answer you. He nodded far too many times before he did. “Yes, yes, please.” His voice cracked.
If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.
“Tea it is,” you said, returning to the kitchen.
Kaku sat down, running his hands over his knees. He was a goddamn agent for heaven’s sake, and he needed to start acting like one. He looked up, suddenly infatuated with the elegant patterns on your ceiling tile.
“Anything interesting up there?”
Kaku’s heart jumped. When he snapped out of his trance, you were standing across from him, eyes also on the ceiling. You’d already set two teacups on the table. A warm teapot was braced in your hands. Hell, maybe you could be an agent after all.
“No, uh…” Kaku tried to shake himself out of it. “Nice tiles,” he opted.
You laughed, though not at him. “I always thought so,” you said, sitting down. “I think the last tenant was married to a tilemaker. Or maybe it was the last landlord?”
You served Kaku a slice of cake on a delicate plate, then poured him a cup of tea.
“That’ll… That’ll do it,” he said, and having officially run out of things today, he took a bite.
Kaku nearly groaned at the flavor. No matter how many times he had your baking, he’d never get used to how amazing your pastries were.
“This is…” He needed a second to regain himself. After two goddamn words. “This is unfairly good. As usual.” Kaku took another bite, somehow having already made it halfway through his already generous slice.
You laughed gently, lifting your teacup to your lips.
The bakery felt very small. It felt smaller with you sitting so close. The two of you alone. And for a moment, you ate together in silence like the world around you had fallen away. Perhaps Kaku would have liked that version of reality.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked carefully, glancing off to the side.
Kaku stopped mid-bite, almost as if he were a school kid who’d just gotten in trouble. He blinked once. “Of course,” he replied, already sorting through possible scenarios in his head like a Rolodex.
You sighed, setting your fork down as you leaned both elbows on the table in front of you. You looked him straight in the eye. “I always thought you weren’t interested,” you said with all the nonchalance in the world. “At least, not in me, anyway.”
Kaku nearly short-circuited.
Never in a million years did he expect…
Your chest deflated as you glanced off to the side again, this time settling your cheek in your palm. “You’d come in all the time, sure, but I never knew if you were just being… nice? Friendly? Everyone’s always talking about how friendly you are. Or I never knew if it was just that you liked sweets, so I just started bringing you some in case I was—oh… You know.” You removed your face from your hand, waving your fingers in a circular motion as you tried to put your thoughts into words. “Imaginging things,” you settled on.
“Imagining things?” Kaku repeated, his gaze dropping to his half-eaten castella. He scoffed out a slight, bitter laugh. Here you were in front of him, talking about imagining things when you’ve read him better than anyone had in a long time.
“Trust me… If there was any imagining going on… it was on my end.” He let out another sharp laugh, one that dulled and faded in the sweet air. “I wanted to be clearer. I—” He looked up at you, his hands gingerly cupped around his plate. — “I just… had to be careful.”
He had to suppress the way his chest twinged. Not because he was an agent. Not because he was supposed to be able to hold back his emotions. No, it was because you were sitting across from him, and when you stared over the table, you saw Kaku, the cheerful foreman who worked at the Galley-La Company.
You saw the shell he’d been telling himself for years he’d crafted to perfection. You brought that version of him his favorite food and kept that version of Kaku talking at the fence, and God, you wanted him, too, and you had no idea what was going on just beneath the surface of this city.
“Careful of what?” you teased. “Scarring me off?”
Those words marked the umpteenth time Kaku let the silence invade the space that should’ve been taken up by his clever words. His entire lifetime had built him up to be able to control any conversation, but tonight, silence was getting the better of him.
Tonight, you insisted on pulling things out of him that he wanted to keep tamped down.
Because for a second—just a split second—Kaku wondered what the world would look like if he told you everything then and there. He wondered in which ways the universe would contort if you ran away together that night and hid away on some faraway island where not even Rob Lucci could find you. But the thought was fleeting. Just as fleeting as those newspaper boats in the sea.
“Yes,” he answered truthfully. His lips parted, then closed.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to let it happen. It wasn’t supposed to get this involved.
A moment passed, and Kaku just thought.
You didn’t say a word.
The lie he’d been telling himself crumbled like the strawman it was, because Kaku should have known that having a well-known crush on the local baker wasn’t something he could ever keep that way. And it had never seemed clearer that everyone else knew it too. Lucci. The guys at the yard. Perhaps even you did to a certain degree.
But there was a time he’d have to leave and never come back. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when he might have to do irrevocable damage to this island and disappear. Maybe it was a cruel fate that your date stood you up that night and left you with him, a man who was about to overstep a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he blurted, knowing very well the decision he was making.
Perhaps tonight—perhaps for this job—he could bend the rules.
He could let Kaku the shipwright win.
And the consequences? Well…
“I am…” His eyes flickered from the table, back to your eyes. Kaku leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table. Serious. Vulnerable. “I am interested. Very interested,” he breathed.
You couldn’t help the bashful grin that widened your lips. Your fingers brushed the edge of his plate, close enough to touch his. A small brush. A small allowance.
“Then… don’t stop being interested,” you said softly, never taking his eyes off you for a second.
Kaku’s chest tightened. He knew better. He knew this wasn’t something he’d be able to walk away from… But he was tired of walking away from things that felt good. He was tired of scrounging for scraps to make boats, only to hide them beneath the ocean waves. He was tired of waiting for an assignment where he could fudge the line between work and joy.
He was tired of pretending he couldn’t have this.
In the warm quiet of the empty bakery, surrounded by the scent of tea and his favorite cake, he let himself fall just a little.
Just enough for tonight.
Just enough to reignite the lie that he was allowed to have this.
Allowed to have you.
Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.
Desc: You have a one sided but determined crush on Franky.
Cw: Very slight angst, mostly funny.
Franky focuses, wearing goggles as the loud sound of metal being cut rings through the base. He’s already done dismantling the wood of the ship, just needs to flatten any bent metal plates and cut it to a size he can sell. The moment he finishes another plate and reaches for a new one,
“Franky!” the sound of your voice reaches his ears. He immediately flinches and sighs, taking his goggles off and looking up at you standing on a platform above him. He’s 33 now, and you’re almost two decades younger. Despite that, you won’t give up.
“The answer is still no, kid!” He puts his goggles back on and gets back to work.
“I-I didn’t even ask yet!” You stutter and he lets out a big sigh.
“You’re just going to ask the same thing you’ve been asking for the past 10 years and I’m going to say no every time.” Now you’re the one who flinches, clenching your fists. You’ve been asking him out since you were very young and he’s refused every single time. Even the first time you asked he didn’t entertain it for a second despite your wails afterwards. Usually that would be the end for someone but apparently not for you.
“But it’s different! Every year I get older and that means my chances go up!” He scowls.
“It doesn’t and I keep telling you it doesn’t.”
“But why!?”
“Because I want a mature woman, and you’re not even close. Got it!? And stop calling me that, you keep forgetting!” He puts his tools down. “Mozu, Kiwi!” The two women come behind you and grab you by the arms. “Take her away. Again.” He makes a hand motion and the women drag you away.
“I’m gonna get older and mature!” You yell. “You’ll see!” Like that, he gets back to his work.
__________________
“Fr- Cutty Flam!” You declare.
“How do you keep sneaking in?” You’re in his room, disheveled.
“I’ve been learning how, I've been watching you for 10 years. I know all your habits and small holes in your welding and base.” You say proudly and he groans.
“..Alright, now get out.” You’ve been motivating him to get better at leaving no room for intrusion, yet the better he gets at building the better you get at sneaking in. He grabs you by the head and you thrash.
“W-Wait! I got you some money, look. I’ve been saving up these past 10 years.” You pull out a big bag of berri, it’s heavy. “It wasn’t that hard, I just skipped some meals and upscaled my old dresses.” You know he wants money, badly, yet he takes one look at the bag and scowls. He takes the bag and for a second you thought you won until he grabs a chain, locks it around you and the bag, then walks outside and tosses you like a sack. “Fr-Cutty Flam!” The chain is strong, anyone who tried to rob you couldn’t get the bag. You ended up having to go to Paulie to get it off.
______________
Days pass and you continue to chase after Franky, every so often the brothers or sisters would find you stuck in a trap or fallen asleep near a door. They help free you or keep you warm with blankets and pillows, Paulie continues to get you out of chains and stop anyone from robbing the money you continue to save up for your cyborg crush. You’re well known as the determined girl who doesn’t give up. Then.. the incident happens.
_______________
You run into Franky’s base and he spots you, already in a bad mood from everything happening. His family getting beat up, Iceburg being injured, and now he has to deal with you. Before he can yell at you his eyes widen. You’re covered in burns, limping from a sprained ankle.
“Fran..k..” You limp over to him and try to speak before collapsing, he catches you.
“Stay with me, what happened!?” He sits down with you across his lap. These injuries, you must’ve escaped from the building Iceburg was attacked. “Dammit, that fuc- damn Strawhat.” He doesn’t like to curse around you. Franky clenches his teeth
and you sniffle, scared.
“I don’t wanna die, we haven’t had our wedding yet.”
“We aren’t even dating.” You’re still on about that as he quickly patches any severe injuries up. “Nor will we ever.”
“E-”
“Even if you die. I’m not gonna lie to you in your death, tough luck.” You frown and then giggle.
“Y..our so mea..n”
“Then stop going for me. Go for someone nicer that’s your age.” He finishes patching you up, carrying you and putting you in a safe space. “Don’t come out of here, no matter what.” He gulps. He shouldn’t be worrying about you when this is going on, but he still has attachment to your stupid self. If only you would give up your weird obsession, not that Franky himself is normal. “This will keep you safe, when I get the chance I’ll tell someone to find you.” He gives you a blanket and makes sure you’re situated before he stands back up and closes the hiding spot. He’d like to bring you to a hospital immediately but he doesn’t have much time left, you’ll be in danger if he’s seen with you. He needs to stop whoever the hel- heck did this.
________________
Franky sighs, he didn’t want to leave but he’s already on the ship now and it’s already set sail. All because of that woman who he helped save hurting his boys. No good deed goes unpunished. He didn’t even get to say bye to you since you’re still being treated in the hospital.
‘It’s for the best. She needs to give me up and move on, even if it’s from heartbreak.’ He thinks to himself before he hears yelling and a familiar voice and call of his name.
“Frankyyyy!!” It’s you, all bandaged up.
“You’re supposed to be in the hospital!” He yells angrily while gripping onto the railing. Luffy tilts his head in confusion.
“Hm? Who is that? Another sibling?” He asks as he spots you. You take a deep breath.
“When we meet again, I’ll be a mature woman! You’ll see! Then we’ll finally date!” Franky grits his teeth and Luffy lets out a big laugh. “I’ll keep saving up!”
“What’s up with that? She’s funny!”
“As if! She’s still doing this!” He huffs and turns around, going into the ship. “Use that money on yourself!”
“You aren’t gonna say bye?” Nami asks.
“Hell no, she needs to find another pervert to bother.” With that he sails away, leaving you behind.
____________________________________
Over two years have passed. Franky is at a hardware shop buying crews and nails. He taps and examines them, they’re sturdy.
“I’ll take these.” He states but before he can a hand goes out and pays for them. He turns around.
“Hey~ Remember me?” There stands a pretty woman wearing seductive clothing, the hardware store man looks awestruck and Franky’s eyes widen. You’ve changed, no longer the girl in rags to save money.
“You..” He pauses. “..need to put more clothes on.” Franky turns back to the seller. “Hey, give me that fabric in the back. Whatever’s the cheapest.”
“Hey! Do you recognize me or not?” You try to talk to him but he grabs the rough and thick fabric, ripping a hole into it before placing it over your head like you’re in a hairdresser. You look like a salt shaker. He stuffs the money back where you had it and pays for his items and the cloth. “Franky!”
“I don’t know you.” He walks away and you give chase.
“It’s me! (Y/n)!”
“I don’t know anything by that name, you’re confusing me for someone else.”
“How many cyborgs with blue hair and sunglasses do you think there are!?” You struggle to chase after him until he reaches the crew.
“I got everything I needed, let's go.” He states as the crewmates look at you. You trip and are about to fall when a blonde man catches you.
“Hello~ How may I- ACK” You stomp on his foot and run to Franky, standing in his way while panting.
“I-I’m.. huff.. not letting you.. huff… leave..” You state, still in your salt shaker era. Franky lets out a big sigh.
“How did you even get here, did you follow me?”
“I have a natural Franky sensor. Because it’s true love.” You state proudly and he grunts.
“I had a feeling you didn’t actually grow.” He tries to leave again but you sidestep quickly to stop him.
“I did grow, you aren’t giving me the chance to show it. I’m a full fledged adult now!” You’re even more proud and he glares down at you until you get nervous. “Okay maybe I don’t actually have a Franky sensor but I did manage to follow you because of my dedication.”
“You have such a beautiful woman by your side!? This pervert!?” Sanji goes up to you, taking off the fabric and making heart eyes at your sexy clothing. “Madamoiselle, please, leave him and I’ll treat you the best.” He feels a big hand on his back, looking behind him to see Franky giving him the biggest death stare. It catches Sanji completely off guard, it’s almost out of character. He pulls the chef away and puts the cloth back on you. The rest of the crew is shocked but Luffy just stares at the interaction.
“Go back home (Y/n). Now. It’s too dangerous here.” The cyborg states firmly.
“I can’t. I used the last of my money to take a ship here. I was kinda betting on finally finding you on this island..” That makes him scowl.
“Dammit. I’ll make you one.”
“I don’t know how to sail.”
“Nami, get some money to send her back.” He’s turned to the navigator but you huff.
“I’m not weak anymore! I managed to get here, that obviously means I’m strong. Not the strongest but still!”
“Don’t care.” Luffy continues to watch, then a big smile forms on his face.
“Hey! Come sail with us!” He says and the crew looks in shock at him, especially Franky.
“Are you kidding!?” He yells first.
“Really!?” You yell after, eyes shining. Luffy goes over to you.
“Yup! You’re strong right?” You nod. “Then sail with us. We can’t sail all the way back for you though, but when we reach laughtale it’ll circle back to your home.”
“You don’t mean…” Both you and Franky say and Luffy laughs.
“Just join my crew!” The crew breaks out into chaos except for Zoro and Usopp who look more exasperated than anything.
“Luffy, reconsider. Right now” Franky says quickly, grabbing Luffy by the shoulders and shaking him. The captain just continues to laugh happily as you celebrate.
“Welcome to the crew!” Nami looks excited. “It’ll be nice to have another girl, but seriously what do you see in him?” Eventually Franky lets go of Luffy, realizing that he truly isn’t going to budge. While he’s lamenting, Robin walks to Franky’s side with an amused smile.
“Don’t be so upset, you’ll have a piece of home, right?” She says and he grunts.
“I’d rather take any other piece.”
“Hey, you’ll have your own personal Sanji!” Usopp takes the chance to tease, going to his other side while Luffy babbles to you about what the crew is gonna be like. The two of you make it on the ship. You’ve changed into casual clothes because a certain shipwright would refuse to take off the cloth if you didn’t.
“I’m plenty mature now, right?” You ask, still looking proud despite the outfit change.
“All you did was get older.” He grumbles. This must be his karma of accepting Luffy any other time the captain wants something crazy.
“I’ll get older. Even if it takes years I’ll be your age now, a cool woman in my 30s.” You say with a hand on your chest.
“I’d still be way older.”
“I’ll be in my 30s though.” He crouches down and puts a finger to your head.
“Yeah. You know what that means? That you’d still be too young for me.”
“But-”
“I’d see women that age as too young by that time. That means you have no chance. Give it up.” You walk forward and stand on his leg.
“It’s okay. Because I’ll still be around you.” A big smile forms on your face and he looks into your eyes. At this point do you even like him anymore? It’s been years, this might as well be a bit. Maybe you’re just messing with him, or maybe your crush still beats strong. Who knows? Only you do.
Blehh, you guys are bad at guessing. The Shanks option was so popular i almost considered just writing that instead. Only problem is i had this already almost done so it was like.. it was either this or i panic rush a random idea I have. I didn't want to do that :P. Still, I posted that 2 times in a row, you should be satiated! I still like posting funny stuff, not just smut or romance. Anyway, i feel like a lot of one sided crush things tend to be angsty, but i wanted something funny with a big personalitied reader. As for Franky, he doesnt exactly see you as a little sister; but definitely just a little squirt he ended up getting attached to. That was my idea, gootbye. I take my nap now.
fed up with Bruce tracking them/invading their privacy in the name of safety, i like to think the batkids pull an uno reverse and microchip Bruce while he’s passed out after a bad patrol injury. they start tracking his phone activity and texting him about wherever he is. bringing up things they know he’s searched for one his phone/people he’s been talking to, showing up at wherever he is during the day and interrupting him just to prove they always know where he is; just overall trying to annoy him the best they can.
issue is, Bruce is just so happy to see and talk to his kids at any point that he doesn’t even notice the breach of privacy, and the kids just end up feeling really awkward about how happy their dad is to see them.
Jason will bring up something in conversation with Bruce that was only privately relayed through texts between Bruce and a colleague, smirking because he knows Bruce is gonna be really paranoid about who’s watching his texts, except Bruce just smiles and happily chats with him for thirty minutes and he’s in a good mood all day because Jason willingly had a casual conversation with him, and when the JL ask why Batman’s in such a good mood at a meeting later that day Jason just goes bright red and doesn’t know what to say because he didn’t realise how much Bruce genuinely craves just catching up with him every now and then.
Dick will stalk him for weeks and wait until Bruce has a really tough busy day at work, specifically so he can wait for the evening where Bruce finally has a single moment to himself in a bar somewhere to relax, and then he busts in loudly sitting down next to Bruce and talking non-stop while ordering a drink, thinking that Bruce is going to be mad because this was his one peaceful moment and Dick ruined it by constantly tracking him. but instead the second Bruce realises Dick’s there all his exhaustion disappears. he gets a really wide genuinely pleased look on his face and happily offers to buy Dick a drink because ‘it’s so rare that they get to hang out!’ and Dick is left floundering because he was trying to be an asshole but now he just feels bad that he doesn’t spend time with Bruce outside of patrol business.
Tim keeps watching him through security cameras and updating him through text on his location in an attempt to make him tired of the constant supervision, but every time he texts Bruce like ‘you just walked into starbucks for the second time today.’ Bruce will just openly smile at his phone and respond like ‘would you like me to get you a drink? i can drop it off at your office if you’d like :)’ and Tim has to give up almost immediately.
essentially i like the idea of the batkids trying to annoy Bruce with themselves, forgetting that Bruce is just a dad who really loves his kids and can’t ever be annoyed by them.
Red Hair Shanks x Ex-Marine Vice Admiral! Reader (Vol. 1)
Author Note: This is just me yapping. I don’t expect anyone to read this whole thing 😭😭 (Mix of LA and Anime, mainly anime)
Summary: How Red Hair Shanks inserted himself into your life.
Warnings: cursing, slight heat?, shanks isn’t a man whore, dis bitch is LONGG like I said I’m just yapping.
——————————————————————————
Playlist:
Last Time (I See The Sun) — Alice Smith & Miles Caton
At Last — Etta James
Out Of Touch — Daryl Hall & John Oates
——————————————————————————
You’ve known Red Hair Shanks for as long as you can remember.
Meeting when you two were just kids, 10 to be exact. He grew up on Gol D. Roger’s crew, and you were a cadet with the Marine’s; training specifically under Vice Admiral Garp. You were practically his daughter.
Your first encounter was on the Oro Jackson, the Marine’s had swarmed and infiltrated the ship.
Shanks, being small and silent, snuck onto one of the Marine ships, Buggy following suit because Shanks had given him no choice. You, also small and far more unnoticeable than the two boys, were hidden just as Garp instructed.
You were placed perfectly under the Vice Admiral’s desk, the flintlock he’d given you was clutched tightly in your hands. You could hear the clumsy movement of someone trying to pick the lock of the office door, and whispers of an argument, “Would you hurry it up Shanks?!” “Why don’t you do it?” “Maybe I will!” There was a moment of silence before one of them bursted out in laughter.
Finally the door clicked and creaked open. You held your breath, not because you were nervous, but because they hadn’t noticed you yet. “You take that side I’ll take this side.” You quickly took a peak around the desk, one boy had light blue hair and a large red nose. While the other, whom was closer to you, had bright red hair and a straw hat resting on said fiery red hair.
Both boys had their backs to you, so you took that as your chance to strike. You made your way behind the blue-haired one, striking him on the pressure point on his neck. You caught him before he fell, laying him gently on the wooden floor.
“Find anything Buggy?” The red-head spoke up, “Buggy?” He turned before you could think of something. Quickly you raised the gun, pointing it square at his face. He yelped, jumping back, “Wha—?! How did you get here!” He exclaimed, you furrowed your eyebrows, “You’re the one who broke into here, filthy pirate.” You stepped closer, cocking the gun, ready to fire if needed.
He raised his hands in the air, his head tilting, “Aren’t you a little young to be a Marine?” “Aren’t you too young to be a pirate?” You fired back. He shrugged, looking around the office, “So… is there anything valuable to steal in here?” “Huh?!” “My captains kinda gonna kill me if I come back empty handed.”
You just stared at him as he looked around, then he looked as though he suddenly remembered something, “Oh yeah! My names Shanks. The guy that’s asleep is Buggy.” He smiled at you. Smiled. At you. You. The one holding the gun at him.
So pirates were just that stupid.
Shanks started to wander around, opening drawers and tossing things around, “Hey stop that!” You ordered, lowering the gun. Glancing out the window you noticed the commotion had ceased. “Hey look at that…” you trailed off, “Look at what?!” Shanks whipped around looking out the same winder you were, you instantly smacked him on the back of his head, “Dumb pirate!”
“Ow!!” He shrieked, “What the hell was that for?!” His head turned to you, “For trying to steal from the Vice Admiral you dumb skank!” “I told you my name was Shanks!” “What?!” At this point it was just a screaming match, you’d both completely abandoned your missions.
The arguments only silenced when the door opened once more, revealing your father, the Vice Admiral. “What is going on in here?” His voice boomed over yours, “Dad!” You saluted, “DAD?!” Shanks shouted, jaw dropping, head turning from you to Garp and back to you.
“I caught these two trying to steal from your office, sir!” You pointed at Shanks, who looked offended that you ‘ratted’ him out. A loud laugh erupted from behind the Vice Admiral, stepping beside him and coming forward as Gol D. Roger.
Roger’s hands were placed on his hips, smile spread across his face. “Well look at you Shanks, beaten by a girl! Say little lass, have you ever thought of becoming a pirate?” He turned to you.
You. A pirate?
The only thing Garp has ever taught you was that pirates were ruthless killers. Yet here was one of the most dangerous and wanted man on a Marine ship asking if you wanted to be a pirate.
“Me…?” You mumbled. Garp glared, giving you an expecting look. “No. I can’t. I have my duties as a Marine. S-sorry…?” You didn’t know if you should apologized, he’d openly welcomed you despite being enemies, the least you could do is apologize.
“Let’s go Shanks, we’re setting sail,” he turned to leave, “oh, and don’t forget Buggy too.” Shanks went back to grab his blue haired friend, “What, we’re just going to let them go? Father, they’re pirates, our job is to catch them!” Garp sighed, “They haven’t done anything wrong. By law, we must let them go.”
Shanks passed you, Buggy on his back, he turned slightly to face you once more; sticking his tongue out and pulling his eyelid down. Asshole. His laughter ran out in your ears, “Don’t miss me too much!” You clenched your fists, “I’ll arrest you next time, dumb pirate!”
——
Years passed and you hadn’t crossed paths with Shanks yet, but every so often, his wanted poster was always on a board in the corner of her eye; reminding you that he was still out there, and of your promise to one day catch him.
Unfortunately the Marines hadn’t classed him as a high enough level to put a bounty on Shanks. But his mere association with Roger has him on a wanted poster.
You were now 15, a Rear Admiral, the youngest in Marine history. You were Garps right hand woman. Those who knew better knew not to mess with you, but there were times that drunks stumble across a ‘hopeless young lady’ that ‘needs saving’. Needless to say a popular nickname for you was the ‘Man-killer’, though you didn’t actually kill them; Garp wouldn’t let you.
You were allowed to go out and deal with some of the pirates that Garp had classified as ‘lower level’. He didn’t want to show it, but he didn’t want his baby girl to get hurt, despite not even being his biological daughter.
On a regular patrol, Garp had gotten word that a group of pirates were overtaking Shellspire Island (Fake!); which wasn’t too far from the island you were supposed to dock at. Shellspire Island was an island of constant motion, being built upon an ancient sea creature.
Garp boarded his ship, you at his side, your Rear Admiral coat hanging off your shoulders like your father figure. “We go there—” you cut him off before he could finish speaking, “—Mass arrest; leader first, crew falls apart, minimal damage, compensate for damage caused by pirates.” Garp nodded in approval, “Perfect.”
You barked orders at cadets not much older then you. You made it up to the quarterdeck, and to the helm. Your log pose strapped on your wrist, you were one of the best navigators in the marines; whenever you weren’t training your face was buried in a book of maps, their lines, angles and colours fascinated you.
The Marine ship began sailing east to Shellspire Island, the trip taking a day at most. Cadets called land as the island appeared in the island, and some reported to you that there were multiple pirate ships docked on the island.
A cadet took over on the helm as you made your way to Garp’s office, knocking once, you opened the door and relayed the messages. “Which other pirates are on the island?” He questioned, “Majority are low-level,” you took a breath in, “And Roger is there too, sir.” Garp went silent, processing what you’d told him. “Prepare the troops, tell them to not engage with Roger’s crew, only those we originally came for.” “Understood.” You saluted and existed the office.
On deck cadets and troop leaders were in formation, guns by their sides. “We are to only attack the pirates we came here for. Gol D. Roger and his crew are to be left untouched, is that clear?” The men cried “Yes Sir!” In unison. You paused, glaring at them, “Yes, ‘sir’?” You repeated.
You could feel the fear dripping off each Marine troop; only calming when Garp emerged from his office, placing a hand on your shoulder. You fell back, letting the Vice Admiral take charge.
Seeing the Oro Jackson up close again felt unreal, a ship you’d only seen in your dreams for the past five years. And abord that ship was the red-head that haunted your nightmares, that was always at the back of your mind. Shanks. And yet you weren’t supposed to engage if you were to spot him.
“Remember—” “—No engaging the Roger Pirates.” You cut him off once more, Garp nodded, though he knew it’d be a struggle to stop you if they were to agitate you.
Chore boys tied the ship to the dock. Stepping off, you now knew why they called it ‘Shellspire Island’, shells of various shapes, colours and sizes, covered the ground, and decorated buildings.
You could hear it before you saw it; civilians screams, and pirates demands for anything valuable. The Marine troops flooded the area, guns aimed and ready. You unsheathed your own flintlock, the same one you had when you were a cadet, and the one you pulled on Shanks.
You held the gun tightly in your hands, standing close to the Vice Admiral incase someone were to be foolish enough to attack. Watching the troops slowly starting to arrest the rookie pirates, you and Garp passed a lively bar; seemingly untouched by the events outside.
You were able to get a peak through the window of the bar. Roger Pirates. They were right in there, all of them. All. At the center you saw a head of red hair and straw hat dancing around. Shanks.
Garp could sense your drifting mind, “Easy. They aren’t doing anything.” You turned your focus forward, but not without noticing the pair of eyes that had been glued on you.
The rest of the arrest went off without a hitch, the pirates were stuffed in the prison below deck, and the village mayor thanked you and Garp for saving them, the rest of the cadets filed back to the ship; getting ready to sail.
Going back to the ship, you passed the bar once more; you took another glance inside, the pirates still boozing around. “How about we get ourselves a drink?” Garp asked, stopping in his tracks. He waved an officer over, telling him that you’d be back within the hour, and dismissed him.
Stepping into the bar, everything went silent. All eyes were on you and your father, but all they saw were Marines. “Can we just leave…” you mumbled, Garp laughed, and slapped your back, making you stumble slightly forward. Still you followed him as he walked to the bar counter, which had started to clear as you sat on the stools, which just so happened to be beside Gol D. Roger.
Garp ordered two beers, even though you were too young to drink. You slid the coat off your shoulders, like a weight being lifted off your back. Yes y oh loved your father, but he put so much pressure on you to be a Marine, to be a perfect Marine.
You took a sip of the beer, the carbonized alcohol stinging your throat. You didn’t bother to turn when someone sat on the seat beside you, the smug air around him gave it away.
Shanks was sitting beside you.
“Care to dance?” You finally glanced at Shanks when he extended his hand out to you, “I’m assuming you’re off duty.” That overly excited smile spread across his face once more, “Why would I want to dance with you, dumb pirate.” “What’s wrong with a little fun?” Shanks tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow.
You looked over to Garp, who was happily slurping down another beer. You turned back at Shanks, hand still out and his eyes hopeful. You chugged back the rest of your beer, slamming the mug back on the counter. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, and with the other, you clapped your hand in his.
Shanks smiled even wider, if that was possible, and he pulled you to your feet; the coat on your lap fell to the floor. You could feel the glaring eyes of the village girls boring into you as Shanks pulled you close to dance.
Dancing wasn’t apart of your Marine training, so to say you were stiff was an understatement. The band was playing in the background; a song you didn’t recognize. Your ironed uniformed crinkled under Shanks hand around your waist, your hand still tightly held by his.
Shanks smelled of alcohol, sea salt, and freedom. He moved loosely, swinging you around to the beat of the music. You’ve stepped on his feet 8, no 9, times now? But you couldn’t tell, the smile he wore never washed off.
You’ve never felt this free.
You finally allowed yourself to relax, for the first time in a long time.
You were getting dizzy from all the spinning, but you couldn’t stop the laughs that erupted from you; giggling as Shanks twirled you.
You lost track of time, you and Shanks in your own little bubble of space, forgetting that you two were enemies; pirate and Marine. “Y’know—” Before Shanks could finish speaking Garp stood from his bar stool, “Time to go, Rear Admiral (Name).”
You straightened up, stepping back from Shanks. He couldn’t exactly read your expression, fear? Disgust that you were actually having fun with a pirate? It didn’t matter, Shanks now knew your name. (Name). It’s been etched into his very being now.
You flattened the wrinkles that were proof that Shanks had laid his hands on the clean fabric. You grabbed your coat, placing it back on your shoulders, the weight returning, a shield from the life of freedom. You shot one last glance back at Shanks, and unlike him, you could read him like a book; dissapointed that the fun had come to an end.
The pirate life wasn’t for everyone.
——
The streets were filled with people.
Everyone screaming and shouting.
You could see your adoptive father, Vice Admiral Garp, standing up on the high platform.
Gol D. Roger kneeling before the crowd. Cuffed. Spears pointing at his back.
The man that once embodied freedom, now in chains.
You looked around for something, someone, in particular. He had to be here. That’s his captain.
Garp finished his speech, allowing Roger to say his last words.
Your ears were ringing.
Everyone was sent into a frenzy.
Everyone needed to be the first to find Gol D. Roger’s treasure. Pirates and civilians alike fled to the docks.
You screamed at Marines to keep people in place.
But then you saw him.
Shanks.
Tears were streaming down his face. He had just watched his captain get executed.
You took a step towards him. He looked hollow, nothing like what he was when you two had danced just months ago.
Shanks turned to face you, eyes dark and determined, “I’m coming back for you.” You didn’t know if he meant that as a promise or a threat.
With that Shanks left, alone.
You wanted to tell him, yell at him— beg him— to come back. That he didn’t have to leave. But you knew he wouldn’t listen to you.
But you knew that once he put his mind to something, he wasn’t going to stop. Dumb pirate.
——
17.
You were 17, and you were caged in the Marines as a Vice Admiral.
Just like your father.
Just like your father wanted.
Your Vice Admiral coat was heavier then the last, more responsibilities, more expectations, more pressure.
It’s been two years since Shanks told you he’d come for you.
You’d cry into your pillow, praying he’d come save you from this life. You wanted to be free.
Garp decided to throw a party in honour of your promotion. Not you. The promotion.
You were getting tired of drunk subordinates congratulating you, and wasted co-workers for father’s age hitting on you.
You excused yourself, stepping out on the balcony. The moon and stars illuminating the night sky. I need you, Shanks. You thought to yourself, praying that somehow he’d hear your thoughts.
The wind picked up for a moment, then died down like it never happened. You could feel the presence of someone with you on the balcony. Looking side to side there was no one.
You turned ready to leave, when the window door closed. The one who closed it? Shanks. You’ve dreamt of this moment. But not in the way you had in the past, not hoping to arrest him. Hoping he’d come save you.
Shanks stepped forward, his white dress shirt tousled and unbuttoned, showing off muscular torso. You only allowed your eyes to glance down for a moment before darting back up to his face, “Like what you see, Vice Admiral?” He joked.
You scoffed, “What are you doing here, dumb pirate?” Shanks now stood beside you, back leaning against the railing. “I’m doing what I said I’d do. I’ve come to get you.” He leaned forward, he still smelled like sea salt, and freedom. “How did you get in?” You questioned, crossing your arms. “When there’s a room full of drunk old guys, they don’t notice much,” he tilted the rim of his straw hat up, “plus, it’s helpful if you’ve been here the whole night.”
He’d been here? The whole night? Waiting for you.
You were intrigued. You hummed, leaning forward, hands dangling over the railing. “My crew still needs a navigator,” your head snapped back to Shanks, “I could use one of your skills.” He tilted his head back, like this would give him a view inside of you and your thoughts.
“Your crew? You want me to become a pirate?” You laughed, and Shanks looked stunned, just for a moment. He quickly regained his composure, “Roger invited you to join his crew, that offer still stands with mine.” “And why should I?” You leaned forward, a smile playing on your face. You were testing the waters, and if that’s how you wanted to play, then Shanks could double down too.
He stood straight, signaling for you to follow. You stood, back straightening, shoulders rolled back. Shanks stepped forward, you could feel his breath. His fingers hovered over your exposed arms, close enough that you could feel the heat being emitted from his body.
His hands trailed up your arms and to your shoulders, where your Vice Admiral coat rested. His hands slipped under the fabric, and in one swift motion the coat was on the ground of the balcony.
The cool air sent a shiver up your spine, “You deserve freedom, not being confined to being something you’re not.” Shanks’ voice was soft, but he spoke like it was a fact. His hands reached up to your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you didn’t know had fallen.
“I’m your key to freedom. Right here, right now,” Shanks took your hand in his, bringing it to his chest; you could feel his steady heartbeat, his skin warm in contrast to the coldness of the night. “All you have to do is say yes.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
The look in his eyes, the same look when he first asked you to dance. He was hopeful.
“I’ll come with you.”
Shanks practically jumped with joy, lifting you in the air and spinning around. You heard a thunk against the railing of the balcony, a ladder was leaning against the railing, “That must be our crew.” He placed you down, “Our crew?” You raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, our, I need a righthand woman.”
You stepped to grab your coat, the one you’d been force to work for, looping it through your arms. Shanks watched, but never questioned you, just watched.
Shanks wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You two swung over the railing, Shanks sliding down the ladder. Your feet hit the floor simultaneously, and you were met with three other pair of eyes, “Well hello pretty lady!” The largest of the three spoke, “I’m Lucky Roux,” he pointed to a man with a cigar in his mouth, “that’s Benn Beckman,” and then moved to the last of the three, “and the short one is Yasopp.” Yasopp choked on the air, glaring at Lucky Roux as the two began to bicker.
Benn Beckman stepped forward, extending his hand to you, “So you’re the captains girlfriend.” You froze for a moment, both you and Shanks stumbling over your words. “I am not his girlfriend!” You finally spoke, “Weird. The way he was always going on about you, you’d think you two would’ve hooked up at least once.” Benn mumbled, “We have a ship to catch!” Shanks exclaimed, making an excuse, but it was hard to ignore the voices that started to get louder, some calling your name.
Yasopp, Roux and Benn ran ahead. You stayed put, hesitating for a moment. “Hey, c’mon beautiful we gotta go. Like right now.” Shanks grabbed your hand, leading you away from the only life you’ve ever known.
——
The first night was rough, not because you were seasick. Not at all, the sea was more of a home than the land.
But it was a guilty feeling. The guilt you knew you didn’t have to feel.
You gave up trying to sleep, sneaking to the deck. Lucky Roux was able to find some old clothes that you could use as pyjamas, but you’d have to survive in your uniform until you docked at the next island to get new clothes.
The breeze mixed with the smell of sea salt, grounding you. You sat on the railing, not worrying if you’d fall in or not. “Can’t sleep?” Shanks’ voice filled your ears, he stopped beside you, looking out at the same sea you were. You allowed yourself to lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder.
For a moment the world went silent. Just you and Shanks once more, out on the open ocean. He rested his head on yours, his lips pressed to the top of your head, his arm wrapping around your waits, holding you close to him.
He suddenly picked you up, like you weighed nothing. “Where are we going?” You finally asked, “My quarters.” He answered naturally, an easy going smile on his face, not showing any malicious intent.
Shanks opened the door to his room with his foot, plopping you down on the bed. You sat up, leaning on your hands. Shanks stood at the foot of the bed, just watching you once more. You could feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze.
Shanks had obviously flirted with many women at various ports; but at his young age, Roger never let him take them to bed. Not to mention none of them left a mark like you did.
He crawled on the bed, his face inches from yours. “Thank you for coming with me.” He whispered, “Thank you for setting me free,” you took in his scent, still the same from the other times you’ve smelt him, “but you’re still a dumb pirate.” “I’m your dumb pirate.” He pressed his lips to yours, he wasn’t rough like you expected. He was gentle, it felt inexperienced. Not that you were one to talk, you had no time for love in the Marines.
The rest of the night was filled with kisses, whispers, love.
——
The rising sun filtered through the window in Shanks’ room. You slowly opened your eyes; lifting your head from Shanks’ chest, taking in the sight. Shanks was under you, one arm loosely around your waist, the other spread out. He really did sleep like a starfish…
You placed a gentle peck on Shanks’ chest, dark marks and love bites littered you both. Carefully, you slipped out of his grasp, Shanks mumbled something incoherent as you did so, you smiled to yourself. He really was something else.
You pulled your pyjama’s on once more, looking back at the sprawled out sleeping Shanks, you placed a final kiss to his fore head.
Soundlessly, you crept to the room. You slowly shut the door, finally stepping away; you turned to head back to your room before anyone saw you. Only to be met with Benn standing right before you, a dumbfound look on his face, “Morning…” he spoke slowly, recovering from his shock. “Morning.” You replied, head lowered in embarrassment, “Just wanted to let the captain know that we’ll be reaching land by noon,” he glanced at your neck, “but I’m guessing that he’s still knocked out?”
You rubbed your neck, “Yeah… sorry about that.” “No problem. I’ll tell him when, or if, he wakes.” Benn began to pass you, “Uh… you mind not telling anyone about… this?” Benn smiled knowingly, “Your secrets safe with me, you have my word.” You bowed slightly, “I see why Shanks chose you as his first mate.” Benn nodded in thanks and continued on his way.
You on the other hand, bolted to your room so no one else would spot you. You adorned your Marine uniform once more, not bothering to fix the wrinkles that had formed like you would have in the past. But grateful that the collar covered the marks Shanks left last night.
You stepped out of your cabin, the sun fully risen now. You could hear Yasopp practicing his shots on empty cans and Roux laughing when he missed. Shanks had certainly gathered a motley crew so far.
“Morning (Name)! Sleep well?” Roux called out to you, you felt your heart drop to your ass. But remembered that Benn had given you his word to not tell the others, “Yeah, it was good! Feels like home already.” “That’s good to hear.” Shanks spoke up behind you. Walking past to greet the others, he was able to cover his own marks by buttoning his shirt, he didn’t have as nearly many as you did.
Benn faced the red-head, “We’ll be docking at noon, captain,” Shanks nodded, “and (Name), I have something for you too. An early ‘welcome to the crew’ gift.” Benn held out a log pose, “Thanks Benn!” You smiled and took the log pose, strapping it to your wrist.
You spent the rest of the time at the helm, making sure the ship was headed in the right direction. “So, how’s it feel? Being an official navigator?” Shanks was leaning on the stairs railing, “Better.” You replied.
“Land ho!” Yasopp called from the crow’s nest, you rolled your eyes, you knew there was land, the log post was pointing directly at it. Lucky Roux started preparing to dock once you reached the island.
Luckily there were no Marine ships docked, you could feel yourself visibly relax, Shanks noticed too. Benn tied the ship to a post, Roux lowering the anchor. “So what are you gonna buy first, (Name)?” Yasopp asked, stepping down the ramp, “If I had money, probably clothes. I don’t think folks would like to see me in this uniform.” You tugged at the white fabric.
“Fair enough, but good news is, money is something we’ve got lots of.” He smiled proudly, “Did you steal it?” You questioned, “Not all of it!” Yasopp answered, waving some of the paper around. You sighed.
“Here,” Shanks forced a small pouch into your hand, “This is stolen money, Shanks.” You stated, pushing the pouch back to his chest, only for him to push it back to you, “You’re a pirate now remember? Doesn’t matter how we get the money, unless you plan on stealing the clothes…?” You huffed, stuffing the pouch in your pocket.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll get used to the pirate life soon enough,” Shanks patted your back, offering you a reassuring smile. He glanced at the dock, seeing that the crew was gone, “you’ll be safe. As long as you’re in my crew, I promise you that.” He lifted your hand, pressing your knuckles to his mouth. “Thank you, captain.” You teased, “Aw man, I was just getting used to ‘dumb pirate’.”
You both laughed, and you began to head into the city, “See you later, dumb pirate.” You waved, finally leaving the dock.
Walking around the bustling streets of the city, vendors called to you, jewelry, pots, food. You should probably get some food, you doubt that the crew have had a proper meal in a while. You popped into a small clothing store, ran by an older woman, her poor eyes widened at the sight of your uniform, “Sorry to bother you ma’am, I just left the Marines.” You bowed, “I see…”
You had no idea what classified as ‘pirate clothing’ so you settled on pieces that fit properly and allowed you the most mobility. You picked out a (f/c) flowy dress shirt style, paired with (black/blue) cargo shorts.
You grabbed a few more items, the sweet lady bagging the clothes for you. You slipped into the changing room, stripping your uniform and pulling on your new ‘pirate clothes’ (photos above). You clipped your gun holster back on your thigh, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
You looked… weird. Not weird, different. A good different.
You stepped out, thanking the lady once more and leaving the store. Bags hanging from your arm, money pouch secured in your new shorts. You found the nearest trashcan, tossing the white uniform in it without hesitation. The last connection you had to your old life was the flintlock strapped to your thigh, but you couldn’t bear to throw that away.
Wandering around the stalls you also bought various meats, seasoning, vegetables and fruits that should last the next few months. If you were lucky. Before setting off to search for your crew you set back to the ship, stocking the food in the kitchen and your new clothes in your room.
With the sun setting you could only assume the group of boys were slugging it around in a bar. Problem was, this little island was full of bars.
After the fifth bar you felt like giving up, until you heard your name being called. You peaked into the bar, laughter, music, and dancing filled the space. “(Name)! Hey baby!” You chuckled nervously as a drunken Shanks waved you over, women of all ages flanked and fawned him.
Jealousy tinged your soul, as you stepped forward some of the girls with minds saw this as their sign to leave, while others still clung to Shanks. You now stood in front of where he sat, you lifted his chin woth your hand, his hands instantly finding your waist.
“Well don’t you look pretty~” Shanks slurred, hands stroking your waist, eyes scanning your body. The last of the women that surrounded Shanks had dispersed at the contact. “Don’t you think it’s time to rest?” You coaxed him, moving his hat so it was around his neck, your hand running through his hair. Shanks rested his head on your stomach, your other hand rubbing his back.
“A nap sounds nice…” his voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt, “if you’re there~” you laughed at his antics, “You’re too drunk to be this cheeky.” Shanks giggled, leaning into your touch. Benn walked over, “We’re turning in for the night, good luck with him.” He motioned from Lucky Roux carrying a very wasted Yasopp to the very clingy Shanks. “See you.” You waved, Shanks following your movement, lazily waving at his crew.
“Alright, let’s go.” You heaved as you lifted Shanks. The bastard putting all his weight on you. His arm slung over your shoulders, while yours gripped his waist.
Somewhere in between the bar and the dock Shanks had passed out completely, his legs dragging behind him. You lugged him up the ramp to the ship, plopping him on deck so you could raise the ramp so no one could board the ship while everyone slept.
You hauled Shanks one last time, passing a thirsty Lucky Roux on the way to his room, “Need help?” Roux laughed, you brushed him off, “No, I’m good, rest well!”
After what felt like forever, you opened the door with your free hand. Practically dropping Shanks face first on the bed, you lifted his legs so that his entire body was on the bed. You unbuttoned his shirt, removing it from his sweating body. You did a final check to make sure Shanks was alright, leaving a glass of water at his desk, giving him a final kiss to his temple.
Shanks’ face lifted, a smile playing on his lips. His hand reaching for your wrist. “Stay…~” his eyes opened, half-lidded, yet looking at you with such adoration despite his drunken state.
How could you refuse?
You removed your shirt, keeping your shorts on. You slid under Shanks, who instantly clung to you like a Koala. His head resting on your chest.
Sure, the pirate life wasn’t for everyone.
But at this time, under the moon, in bed with Shanks, the man you loved.
Right then you knew, the pirate life was meant for you.
You and your dumb pirate.
——————————————————————————
Thank you to whoever has read to the end of this absolute monster. Y’all mean so much to me!
I’d love to write more ab Shanks, but I def don’t want you guys to read all of this again 😭😭
For instance my best friend from high school is a huge Harry Potter fan meanwhile I had only ever seen the movies prior to meeting her. But after meeting her I have grown a fixation on the series especially on Snape. I guess it’s my fault for reading her Harry Potter fics and fic recs and also for using Harry Potter as a common ground for building our friendship. Though honestly I thought it would be K-pop which is a lil ridiculous of me to think cuz I don’t really care about celebrities beyond their art.
Anyway all this to say Severus Snape has been flooding all my fyps and I can’t stop thinking of fic ideas with him.
Debbie goes back in time and accidentally gets a reverse harem fic?👀
Now i don’t really like harems but i was just thinking of how Debbie’s story kinda reminds me of some manhwa heroines. Like manhwa heroines are always getting betrayed by their men and since Nolan basically betrays her I started thinking 💭. Debbie who wakes up back in time before Nolan kills the guardians decides to try to prevent all the things that happened to Mark. I don’t have all the details but it seemed like a fun idea to share. Plus I was thinking about how hilarious it’d be for Debbie to accidentally seduce some of the older characters.😁 Mark would probably be like STAY AWAY FROM MY MOM!! STAY AWAY. She is busy being my mom.
If anyone writes this plz tag me so I can read it.
Being reborn as the daughter of a psychotic, murderous alien from a comic book you kinda remember reading leads you to having to grit your teeth and play ‘loving daughter’ to avoid having your skull caved in. With daddy issues like that, is it really surprising that you go on to sexually torment the protagonist of said comic book? Not that he seems to mind.
(Mark Grayson x Reader)
Maybe you liked reincarnation and transmigration stories so much because it seemed so inconceivable of it being even close to plausible. Maybe if you knew the sheer fright you would feel in such a story, you wouldn’t have entertained the notion in the first place.
Well, being reborn into what you thought was a fictional world wouldn’t be too bad if you woke up in Pokemon. Now, that sounds like a good time. Getting to leave home as a minor and not having to worry about money when you can just beat the shit out of your fellow trainers seems pretty good, actually. Way better than your actual situation, cruelly so. In fact, you think God or whatever entity-concept-bitch that threw you into a new life should recompense you. Maybe if you monologued hard enough you’d be given what you’re owed—
Are you being dramatic? No. No, you’re not. And if you are, then maybe you’re allowed to be a little obnoxious when you have a bloodied behemoth of a man with a scarred face and metal arm staring down at you, expression not dissimilar to a feral animal with rabies.
Judging by how the screams and sound of buildings collapsing has long gone silent, you suspect that the alien world you were born into was now distinctly lacking its lifeforms. It’s almost a shame. Your new species looked like pretty space elves, like something out of a shut-in nerd’s erotic sci-fi fanfic.
You’re almost disappointed that you have to die as a toddler, you’re pretty sure you were going to grow up to be quite the beauty based on how your new mother looks—
Oh, she’s probably dead too.
You feel like you should be crying right now, but you remain motionless, pinned under the gaze of an apex predator that seeks to maul you, without the right to even grieve.
In the depths of your fractured mind, you realize that this doesn’t seem to be in character for the man, if you can even call him that, before you. You should already be dead, like an ant carelessly crushed by the heel of an uncaring giant. But you’re still alive.
He speaks, and your heart nearly stops.
“So, you are the one that your…mother sought to protect. Once, she was a fine warrior, ravenous and uncaring, but you made her…weak. Pathetic, even. It was almost a mercy to put her down, free her from the sad morsel of flesh she has degraded into.” He leans down now, fully looming above you, your wooden cradle acting less like protection and more like a trap, leaving you unable to escape.
“And for what? To nurture you beyond what her teat can offer—“
Does he have something against breastfeeding?
“—Viltrum had no tolerance, even when it came to weeping babes—“
Oh. You know who’s standing above you now, Negan voice be damned to the worst layer of hell.
“Yet, here you lie, a new generation of our dying empire; weak and disappointing. The only spawn I have sired, the only being in the universe that shares any blood with me—“
Anything else he says is drowned out by your own internal screaming. Your father is Conquest and he's a deadbeat. The unhinged psycho from yet another superhero comic that delights off suffering and broken bones.
But, this information, while horrifying, brings a clarity that washes over you like cold water. You’re currently a toddler, a Viltrumite one, sure, but a toddler, nonetheless, with a pathetic grip and too small limbs, reliant on your now dead mother to care for you. But you’re Conquest’s child. His family, even if the term is a foreign concept to him, and that makes you special. That gives you a chance to survive. You know his isolation, his loneliness. You know how easily Viltrumite pride crumbles when its few survivors found love on Earth, folding like a house of cards. Nolan was the outlier and then the rule.
The way of survival was clear to you, another remanent from your past life; play the fool, stupid and oblivious.
So, you embrace your new body and abandon shame, and throw your hands into the air, making grabby hands at the murderer, asking for ‘uppies’.
(You’d cry later.)
He ends his traumatizing soliloquy, going frighteningly silent.
Yeah. He looks like he’s going to kill you. So, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“Da!” You cry out, giving him a gummy smile.
Maybe you should have just let him kill you.
His face remains as impassive as stone but after another painfully long pause, he reaches down with bloodstained hands and picks you up, holding you from under your arms, large fingers completely covering your ribs.
“You are Viltrumite in blood only, your weakness would have had you purged—“
You let out a childish laugh, innocent and pure, desperate not to get ‘purged’ as he put it, “Silly da!”
That gets him to shut up. You ignore the way he flexes his fingers, the way they dig into your skin, more than capable of crushing your bones—
Your stupid, tiny hands grip his, as if willing—pleading him to not end your second life.
“You are so new to life, so sheltered, you cannot even comprehend who holds you, what I am even capable of doing. Your own mother has been slain by my hand,” he muses. “You truly…perplex me. Do you know who I am by sheer instinct? Does our blood tie us together so intrinsically?”
You kind of want to laugh at how much his words piss you off. What an annoying way to speak. Without even realizing it, your little fingers start to squeeze and you hear his surprised intake of breath. Your hand pulls away, to reveal the beginning of a bruise on his finger.
Oh, fuck.
“So young, and your powers are already appearing? This feeling, is it…” He lets out something similar to a laugh, ugly and unnatural, “There is value to you yet, child.”
He abruptly lets you go, and you fall back into your crib, too shocked to even yelp. Who drops a child!? The only thing you do is stare up at him in shock. He smiles down at you, and you almost piss yourself.
“You…are different. I will not take you with me. Do not fret, for I will be watching.” He promises, expression odd, “The being you will become, so unlike what we should be…I look forward to it. After all, you are mine.”
And as sudden as he appears, he’s gone. And you’re left, feeling slightly bruised, alone in your crib on a now dead planet.
How were you supposed to survive, exactly!?
*
You did survive. It seems like your planet had ties to the Coalition, who only arrived after everyone died. Pretty cowardly, really. But, you can’t really complain since they did retrieve you from your broken home , taking you with them. To fight for their cause, but beggars can’t be choosers in a brutal subversion of superhero media. Why couldn’t you have ended up in Venture Bros?
The cherry on top of this train wreck of a situation is that they immediately clocked you for being a half-Viltrumite, presenting you to their leader, Thaedus. Tad, as you sometimes called him, when you wanted to annoy him.
He trained you, along with many others, who drilled it into you to survive, to be stronger than the Viltrumites that threatened the safety of all life and freedom as you know it. You were their ace in the hole, their hunting dog, the hope of the Coalition. Mongrel and messiah in one. They made sure you were educated, well versed in their code of ethics. That your loyalty would always be to them. Questionable of them to do, frankly speaking, but they kept you clothed and fed, so you had no reason to protest.
The company wasn’t so bad at least. Under the Coalition, you’ve had the opportunity to meet a lot of people, from all ends of the universe, some kind, others absolutely terrified of your mere existence.
Allen fell into the former category, always seeking you out, sharing anecdotes from his missions and asking for you to share your own. And with Allen, came Telia, a higher ranking member than you both that you trusted to not spit on you for being ‘Viltrumite scum’ or whatever it was that some practically scornful cadets called you. Little did they know who their leader truly is.
*
You’d figure you wouldn’t see your ‘father’ after he killed your mom, but fate was unkind and Conquest is bat-shit insane. But at least he didn’t rat you out. You still wonder why he annihilated your home planet when you were clearly proof of compatible breeding. Honestly, genocide was a mercy compared to what you know they wanted to do to Earth, what they would probably do to you, if they caught wind. It was for the better they died, unfortunately. Even if their only survivor carried their legacy as recessive genes.
Not that you would ever ask him, even if you did often have the opportunity. Whenever you least expected it, when you were too concentrated on your mission, whether it was peacemaking or inspecting a new planet to add to the Coalition, he would appear, killing whatever adversary you were facing gleefully, expecting your gratitude and admiration for it, so you’d grit your teeth and call him ‘father’, despite the humiliation. You were still too weak, too scared to act how you wanted to. Which was to cave his skull in.
Other times, he would just follow you. Silent, like a spectre. Or a fucked up looking dog.
It was worse when he tried to copy the acts of physical affection you shared with others. His hugs usually broke one or two ribs and his head pats left you with a bump. You’re not even sure how he learned about them in the first place. Other times, they weren’t…too painful, at least.
*
“Child,” he calls after slaughtering the fleet you were leading on a recon mission. “You grow stronger, yet you still lack the true strength of an Viltrumite.”
“Is that so?” You laugh, good natured, noting Shez’s head by your feet. He was your pilot. A good man and father from what little you knew about him.
“Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken you with me, if I still should,” Conquest admits.
“That’s an interesting thought,” you smile stupidly, trying to keep the murder off your face.
“But you are…more interesting like this.” He concludes. And you wonder why someone like him was committing probably the highest level of treason. For some daddy-daughter time? The Empire obviously didn’t do family, bonds were meaningless to them, but apparently not to Conquest anymore. Did the isolation from his race finally get to him? Was he really that simple? That…lonely?
Another long moment of silence passes before he leaves you with your broken ship and dead crew.
“Okay?” You whisper, making eye contact with Shez.
*
You were on your way back to base after surveying a planet of bug people, they had no warriors or weaponry to speak of and their technology was nothing to write home about. Unfortunately, they had nothing to offer to the Coalition. At least that meant Viltrumites would have no interest in them either. No, that sounds wrong——
Your thoughts are cut off when you’re suddenly tackled mid-flight, and before you know it, you find yourself in a stone cube your father apparently dragged around as shelter. A house? Just without a bed. And everything else. It was sad and barren, only having some supplies and what looks like a…cake? On the ground before you, messily frosted a deep red colour. You hope that isn’t blood, actually.
“You told me once how some species choose to celebrate their day of birth. A foolish sentiment,” he rumbles, sitting before you.
You can kind of remember rambling about birthdays. You usually just say whatever pops up in your mind so his thoughts don’t swerve into killing you. The most terrifying thing about him was how we could go from looking like the psycho killer he is to giving you big, sad eyes. It almost humanized him.
“Oh, it’s not my birthday,” you start to say before noticing his expression, “It’s— it’s your birthday?”
“I do not recall when I was born.”
Neither of you say anything for a moment.
“You said there would be singing,” he scowls.
“Oh, well, only sometimes, like rarely, actually—“ you notice his glare, and duck your head. “Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…”
*
While you didn’t have to worry about debt or making something of yourself like in your past life, your current life was uniquely difficult.
You were growing wary (and scared) of having to placate your ‘father’. You don’t believe he would snitch to the Empire about your existence, that would be mutually assured destruction, so you were finding little reason to continue your ‘hangouts’ with him and you were beginning to worry if you were impacting the plot too much, god forbid your existence becomes the reason he survives.
So, you’re going to Earth, to hide yourself being the bigger, flashing target that was Mark Grayson. Let him deal with Conquest when the time came.
…and maybe you missed having a home. And the PlayStation, you definitely missed that.
And after years of having Conquest rough you up (break your bones and rupture your organs) to test your might, you weren’t looking forward to him trying to give you some type of sick ‘becoming an adult’ beating.
So, you told Thaedus you were going on leave, a vacation, really. You needed a break from the continued mess that was your life. What better than reliving the mess that was your past life instead? When your biggest worries were meeting the disappointment of your parents rather than having to placate your colonizer father.
“You want to go to Earth…? The planet that inhabits the only other half-Viltrumite we know of, that is currently the Empire’s main focus?” Thaedus blinks at you. "For fun?"
“What, I’m not allowed to sightsee? Take a load off? I see, so I don’t even have the right to take time off! I mean, I’m already a child soldier so I might as well be under Thragg’s rule—“
“And that’s the only reason?” Your fellow Viltrumite interrupts.
“What? Worried I’m going there to revive our dying civilization with Nolan’s son?” you tilt your head, smiling blandly.
And the conversation ended pretty quickly, after that. Not before he tried to once again ask you to bring your sperm doner over to your side. Which was another hard no. You were not going to mess with canon.
At least Allen seemed a little more thrilled.
“They really do grow up so fast,” Allen wipes a tear from his eye. “But, look at you, finally putting yourself out there, getting some work-life balance! Earth will love you! Well, some of them are pretty paranoid after the whole ‘Viltrumite killing thousands’ thing, but you’ll be fine! Just be yourself! Well, maybe not ‘yourself’—“
“Worried?” You tease.
“No, not at all!” He laughs nervously, “It’s just that sometimes you can be just a teensy bit…mean? Which I love! Great banter between us! It’s our thing! But, maybe, the Earthlings will see it as psychological warfare…?”
“Me? Mean? I wouldn’t say that, in fact, others would describe me as nothing but pleasant!” You chortle, disregarding everything he said, and Allen awkwardly joins you, muttering something under his breath that suspiciously sounded like a prayer.
*
Allen told you to just hang around the moon and someone would pop up to greet you. You hope it isn’t the Immortal.
You internally curse when the Immortal appears, rage clear on his face as he shoot’s up, ready to attack. How embarrassing of him, really.
You tackle him back into Earth’s stratosphere in a sudden burst of speed, breathing in sweet, probably polluted air.
“Take me to your leader?” You ask, arms stilled wrapped around his shoulders. “Or better yet, have him head over to me. A welcoming committee would be nice.”
He only lets out another shout, throwing a punch towards your face, so you grab his arm, throwing him over your shoulder before deigning to fly away then waste any more of your time trying to talk to a knockoff…Vandal Savage?
You instead head to New York City, normally known as a magnet for trouble, in any other reality than this one. You definitely stand out in your Coalition uniform, but people barely spare you a second glance from the park bench you’ve currently claimed as yours.
You watch a group of nearby pigeons fight over a hot dog bun before a presence blinks next to you. Honestly, Cecil’s teleportation was comparatively primitive to other civilizations you’ve come across. A lot more wasteful too.
A moment of silence passes and you can at least commend him for taking a seat next to you. You’re sure that he has a bunch of weapons and satellites honed in on you, but it’s brave of him regardless. Maybe you should thank Allen for opening a bridge in the first place. You doubt he’d be as chill if you weren’t wearing your uniform.
“So, I hear you have a Viltrumite problem,” you start, smiling.
“And I should assume you’re not here to add on to that?” He asks wryly. “Not here to spread word of the Viltrum Empire?”
You laughed as if he actually said something funny, “You know that not all of us were raised like that. No, there are outliers that weren’t indoctrinated from birth. Not of pure blood. Me…and Nolan’s kid. Is he too busy to say hi?”
“Extremely.” He narrows his eyes at you, and you can tell you’ve unsettled him. Oh, Mark wasn’t here was he? Looks like little Oliver would be arriving soon.
He meets your gaze, “I’m going to be blunt. I already figured you weren’t a hostile force because of your ‘friend’ already popping by, but I thought your little group was too busy to grant us any aid. So tell me this. What the hell are you doing here? You’ve already gave everyone a heart attack, to do what? Watch birds fight?”
“I’m on vacation,” you reply brightly.
He stares at you. “You’re here…on vacation.”
“Yeah, Allen mentioned Earth was an interesting place, if not a bit…behind. My old planet wasn’t too different actually! I mean before we started stripping it for resources. Don’t worry, everyone was already dead,” you continue. “Honestly, it feels nostalgic being here. In more ways than one.”
“For some reason, I don’t believe you and believe you at the same.” The man rubs his face tiredly, but you don’t take it as him letting his guard down. It’s probably a signal for something, you’re guessing.
“I’m being pretty polite, you know. I could have just came here undetected. I’m fast enough and I have the tech for it, but I wanted to meet you,” you admit, still smiling, though you doubted it was comforting. “You’re in a pretty tough position here, friend. Viltrum believes you can help replenish what they lost and the only reason they haven’t is because Earth is continuously racked with…internal issues. And they trusted Nolan, too much, a mistake you guys made too. Your strongest fighter would die to any Viltrumite, including me. Honestly, feels like you guys just have horrible luck. And it’s not going to get any better.”
“So what? The Coalition is going to back us up now? From what I’ve heard you guys haven’t had much luck against the Viltrumites either,” he retorts and you laugh again, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him against your side. You can feel his tension despite his expression not changing. You doubt he’s ever been manhandled like this. “…awfully friendly, aren’t you?”
You’re being mean. But you have a lot of frustration that you aren’t able to take out against the one that wronged you. So, yes, you’re being a bully right now, making his weak, little heart almost go out, but you’ll make up for it. Someday.
You wonder if Donald is shitting himself right now. “I’ve killed two of them before. Viltrumites, that is.”
“Two?” He sounds unimpressed, but you can tell you only raised your danger level.
“Believe it or not, it was a major loss for them. Painted a target on my head the first time, the second time, they started getting a bit nervous,” you share, “The only way to kill one of us is to be stronger. Plain and simple.”
You’re lying a bit there, but you’re not about to share your weaknesses with him of all people.
“Roundabout way to sell yourself, I thought you were here to…relax,” he says, shifting in your grasp.
“I am, but even off duty, I took an oath to protect, especially when Viltrumites are involved. Don’t think of me as an enemy or something you need to worry about. If they come, I’ll help. And if I’m not fighting whoever they send, and they will send someone, I’ll just be enjoying the sights.” You pat his shoulder before pulling away. “I think we’ll become great friends…sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Cecil.” He’s playing nice, at least. “You can stay, we’ll even fund your…activities. But, the only way you involve yourself in any altercation, you wait for my call. Trust that you’ll be met with immediate consequences if you act out.”
With those final words, he’s gone. You’re amused that he only threatened you after you let go of him. He was definitely placating you the same way you did for your father.
“Some clothes and currency would be nice?” You call out to the sky, aware you’d be monitored during your stay. Voyeurs.
You were definitely going to take advantage of the taxpayers. Sorry, Americans.
*
You let out a sigh of contentment as you emerged from the ocean, heading back to where you left your towel. You’ve seen a lot of beaches over the years, but you never had the chance to actually enjoy any of them. So you figured you’d make sure of a private beach in Australia, uncaring of the actual owners.
Right as you bent down to pick up your towel, you had to dodge an incoming punch from the protagonist himself. Wow, he just got back on Earth and he came to visit you. You’re honoured.
“This isn’t your planet—“ you know he was about to make a speech about how colonization is bad, but he pauses, mouth agape as he takes in your form.
You meet his gaze, tilting your head. Ah, you understand now. In your last life, you weren’t a big fan of revealing outfits, but after interacting with a variety of cultures and species, you were comfortable in your skin, meaning sometimes you liked to wear sexy bikinis that didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Yes?” You smile.
“Uh, you, uh, I’m not—you’re a Viltrumite!” He barely gets out, obviously going red under his mask.
“You definitely didn’t let Cecil finish before hunting me down, did you? And did he really give you my location before at least saying I’m a friendly Viltrumite like you?” You pout, crossing your arms, already sure Cecil is shouting into his earpiece.
“You—yeah, he’s bringing me up to speed now,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’re friends with Allen? He didn’t mention you…like at all.”
“Viltrumites aren’t something you can freely talk about,” you reply, “I’m sure you can guess why.”
“Heh, yeah, for sure,” he says awkwardly.
When you don’t say anything, he speaks up again, “You, uh, don’t seem that different from a human. My mom said even my dad took a while to get used to Earth. But you look great— like you’re doing great!”
“Well, compared to the Empire, the Coalition is all about diversity. They made sure I wasn’t an emotionally constipated killer.” You take pity on him and ignore his slip up. A part of you wants to mess with him a bit more, mostly out of envy for him having a human mom and an actual childhood, but that’s twisted even for you. “Did you want to join me?”
Okay, maybe you did have it in you.
“Oh, me? Wow, that’s, wait, no, I have a girlfriend! Oh my god, Amber,” he starts to mumble to himself guiltily. Did he come see you before his girlfriend? You’re flattered, even thought those two are on the brink of a breakup.
“You should get comfortable having me around, Mark.” You mention casually, “Cecil wants me to help whip you into shape. Allen mentioned you were a late bloomer.”
His cheeks flush again much to your glee. “You? But you’re—“
“Doubting me, are you?” In an instant, you’re behind him, kicking his knee in, so he stumbles before whipping around to face you.
Oddly enough rather than offence, he’s giving you the same stupid look as earlier. You look done and let out an ‘ah’. You turn around, arm covering your now bare chest. You weren’t that secure.
“Can you pass me my top?”
In a flash, he’s holding up the piece of fabric, his other hand covering his goggles. For that act of kindness, you pretend not to notice how affected he is by the sight of your tits. Honestly, he’s acting like he’s a virgin, which you know he is not!
*
You’re having the most fun you’ve had in a while, or maybe even the most fun you’ve had in this life.
You get to laze around, eat good food, beat the shit out of Mark for ‘training purposes’. Going on vacation really was the best, especially since you were basically waiting to get drafted to fight in a war. Right now, the best thing to do is nothing.
“You don’t pull punches, do you?” Mark hovers above where you’re perched on a cliffside, watching the sunset after hours of tossing him around.
“That’s what makes me so good at my job,” you grin up at him. Surprisingly, he smiles back at you. You guess being associated with Allen is like a ‘get-out-of-jail’ card here. Well, for now.
“You sure about that? You just smack me around and yell ‘dodge this’,” he teases. “By the way, you’re supposed to warn me before you hit me, not after!”
“I’m Pavlov-ing you. In a good way,” you clarify.
“I don’t thinking saying it’s the ‘good way’ actually makes it good.”
“Hmm, yeah, I guess you’re—dodge this!”
*
“He smells like grape juice,” you breathe, hugging the purple toddler to your chest.
“He doesn’t smell like grape juice just because he’s purple,” Mark retorts, crossing his arms as he watches you nuzzle your face into Oliver’s hair. “I don’t get why you wanted to see him.”
“He’s another halfie, we’re like a super minority right now,” you explain, “And I didn’t really see too many kids growing up.”
“How old are you?” Mark asks suddenly before backtracking, “Oh, wait is that rude to ask? I don’t mean it in a bad way, just curious if, uh, I’ll shut up now.”
“Worried I’m as old as your mom?” You ask. “No, I only recently entered adulthood like you.”
“Cool, cool, cool.” Mark nods, attempting to appear casual. “So, uh, me and Amber broke up.”
That’s earlier than you thought it would happen.
“Why?”
“I’m going to drop out of Upstate, I barely have enough time with the super hero gig and training, as is, forget about actually being able to be there for her. It wasn’t fair to her,” Mark admits. “It felt like we were holding onto something that doesn’t exist anymore.”
“You did sound like a bad partner,” you hum and he shoots you a betrayed look. “But, life isn’t so simple for you. You’ll find your peace eventually, Mark.”
You’ve seen it, after all.
“Oh, uh, thanks.” He rubs his neck sheepishly. It’s a cute habit, you hope it’s one he keeps even if it seems unlikely.
*
“—are you okay?” Mark appears in your vision, bloodied and bruised. “You…scared her off? Uh, asserted your dominance?”
“I’m not a dog,” you grumble, lifting yourself from the sand, as he collapses to sit beside you. “But, yeah, Anissa, was it? Older than us, way older. Any further confrontation between us would have led to more serious injury, so she cut her losses and left. Wish I could have bashed her head in permanently, but there’s always next time. If she was just a little slower…”
“You guys were faster than I thought was possible,” he shakes his head ruefully.
“Experience does count for something. At least, you’re good at taking a beating,” you console.
“Yeah, that definitely makes me feel better.”
“That’s what I’m here for; pina coladas and emotional support,” you grin mockingly before your face falls back into neutral dissatisfaction.
Mark pats your arm, “You’ll get her next time.”
*
“Wow, you really suck at this,” Oliver remarks, watching your character die for the nth time, the two of you sitting on the floor, engaged in the most broken game of all time. You'd rather play a RPG.
“Why do you even like playing shooters? Bullets are literally the most useless thing in space,” you mumble, tossing your controller away.
“Why do you keep playing with my brother when I’m the one that invited you over?” Mark wonders, slumped on the couch behind you.
“She just likes me better,” Oliver brags. “How long are you here for anyway? You said you were just on leave.”
“I’ve literally never taken any day offs, so like ten years, I guess. Or whenever they’re planning to take out the remaining Viltrumites,” you shrug, prompting Oliver to starting ranting about how he’s going to get the most takedowns.
“What are you going to do when it’s over? When there’s no threat?” Mark asks suddenly.
“What? Like, universal peace? I guess the same thing I’m doing right now,” you answer, unsure why he looks so pleased. Dork.
“Then I guess I’ll have to get to work,” he says as if he could just achieve it like that. Well, he would, but doesn’t know that.
“Maybe win a fight first.”
“Ohhhh!”
“Shut up, Oliver.”
*
Shit was going down. It was the average Ao3 user’s wet dream. Dozens of morally dubious Marks fucking everything up.
And, you were having your (Y/N) moment. And letting out some steam through violence. You can only blame your genetics.
“I’m gonna be real with you, babe, this is the most fun I’ve ever had,” a variant wearing a mask without lenses, revealing stupid Bambi eyes, admits, nose bleeding, staining his teeth red when he smiles.
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush,” you giggle after bringing a knee to his face.
“No, really! I thought the only kinda cool thing I could do was kill the Guardians again, but that was a bust! When you tackled me into a mountain, I think I got, like, a gratitude boner or something!” He exclaims, what a manic sweetheart he is. And he should be grateful, you saved him from having to survive the horrors alongside Darkwing Jr.
“Wow, you’re actually being serious about the boner thing,” you comment, doing your best to look into his eyes, and not at his—
“What can I say? You just do it for me, baby, maybe it’s your penchant for punching the shit out of me. Or maybe it’s those pretty legs of yours,” he admits shamelessly, “Actually, do you own any fishnet—“
You punch him into the ground and watch him bounce, but he only lifts his head to look at you like a lovesick puppy. “Marry me?
Okay, that’s enough. The sadomasochism thing was mostly a joke. He can get cannibalized. You’re pretty sure Rex is about to sacrifice himself and take that as an excuse to dip.
*
The day you’ve been dreading. Conquest’s arrival, and you do not want to stand ready for it.
People (and dogs) are going to die. Mark and Eve are going to get mutilated. And you don’t think you can live with that happening on your watch.
So when Cecil calls you for backup, you don’t ignore him. You cry a little, but you go.
When you see him about to tear Oliver in half, you dive down from the sky, landing a kick against his back, forcing him to drop Oliver, you’re barely able to catch him, watching Conquest land a couple feet away.
“That’s enough,” you declare, gently setting the boy down for retrieval, trusting Cecil to take care of him, and approach your father.
“It looks like you’ve improved at hide and seek, it’s been months since I’ve seen you, and you’re here? Your softness…I can only take responsibility for it,” he tells you, quiet compared to the devastation around you. His hand cradles your cheek when you’re close enough, gentler than he’s ever been with you. You raise an eyebrow at the absurdity. Did he miss you that much?
“That’s right, it’s your fault. You could have taken me in at any time, let me be molded into a ‘true Viltrumite’, but you didn’t. Why? All that loyalty to them but you falter now? I don’t understand,” you admit. “Families don’t exist for our people. You want me to be strong, but not enough that I be trained like the rest of you.”
“You were the only one to ever smile at me,” he states simply.
You really hated when you felt bad for him.
Your little moment is interrupted when you hear Mark shout.
“Get away from her!” You raise a hand, stopping his charge as he stares at you in confusion.
“Father, what are you doing? I thought maybe you wanted me to be the one to kill you, but it’s that not that,” you exhale steadily before continuing, “The day you didn’t kill me or take me, you became a traitor. You don’t care about the Empire, clearly, and based on the way you keep following me around like a sad, old dog, there’s more to you than just wanting to fight. What do you want?”
“I want you to live as you always have, without the influence of anyone but myself,” he says. “That way, you can still bear to look at me. That matters more than anything else. Treachery or even destroying this planet, it doesn't matter what I do, so you must remain as yourself.”
That’s almost sweet.
“I came here to drench myself in blood, but now, I will crush this planet against my heel, even if it’s against the Empire’s wishes, for attaching itself to you like a parasite, wasting away your potential and time,” he vows. “I will liberate you from this weakness.”
What?
“What!?” Mark, who was previously stuck in a shellshocked state, shouts.
Your father turns back to Mark, glee gone from his face, replaced with a look of loathing. Before he can move, you wrap your arms around him, feeling him stiffen in shock, as he stares down at you.
“Father! Dad! Dad, you’re right, I’ve gotten attached to this place, for better or worse. Maybe that makes me weak. But, I’m okay with that,” you nervously ramble, clutching onto the man like a lifeline, even thought you have to resist the urge to start shaking. You need to come up with something quick. “The truth is…that I want to start a life here. On a planet where blood and bonds ties us together, where families are forged. Because I’m…”
You silently apologize to Mark.
“I’m with child. Nolan’s son is the father,” you lie, looking your father in the eye. “Here, parents raise their child. They spend every day with them. And…and grandparents are very involved! They just pop up and spoil their grandkids…and that’s totally something I want.”
“A child?” Your father brokenly gasps, looking back at Oliver’s battered form.
“No, that’s not—obviously not! I meant, in my womb, dad!” You yell, pulling away.
He stares at your stomach like you have a bomb strapped to you. He stumbles back before flying away, concrete breaking under the impact. You wonder if canon even matters anymore.
You’ve saved thousands, but at what cost?
Mark finally regains the ability to speak, “We’re pregnant!?”
“I lie when I'm scared, Mark! You should know that!”
*
When you exit the washroom after a very long shower, you’re not surprised to find Mark in your hotel suite, awkward lounging on your bed, staring a bit too long at your fluffy bathrobe for it to be an admiring gaze.
“How was Rex’s going away party?” You ask, sitting next to him, crossing your bare legs.
“Great, I’m happy for him. They missed you, actually. Rex wanted to thank you for taking down that variant,” he smiles, and you take note that most of his injuries have already healed. You stopped the worst of it. “Rae too, looks like they’re a thing now. Didn’t see that coming.”
You hum, an urge to bully him hitting you. You turn to face him, “Do you want to have sex?”
“S-shouldn’t I buy you dinner or take you to a movie first?” He blurts out.
“You wanna take me out?” You ask.
“Yes, of course, I think we’re doing things a little…out of order?” He says. “I mean, sex is also, hmn, good. Really good.
“I was just thinking you should put a baby in me before Conquest comes back,” you explain casually. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I figured we might as well go along with it.”
He chokes, and you bite back a smile.
He’s too easy.
“You don’t have to. It’s a better alternative than fighting him, but we can figure it out,” you continue, “Maybe we could—“
You’re cut off when he presses his lips against yours, hands cradling the back of your head. Any noise you make is swallowed by him. He pulls away, nose brushing against yours.
“Let’s do it,” he declares.
“Uh, I think your line is supposed to be ‘that’s crazy’ or ‘how can we have a baby’,” you reply, face feeling hot at his sudden boldness.
“I mean, it’s like you said, it’s the best alternative. I’d rather have Grandpa Conquest showing up than the bloodthirsty version,” he says, hand already moving to untie your robe.
“Dude, no way do you want a baby,” you blanch. Is this a game of chicken? Are you losing said game of chicken?
“We can at least try,” he says dragging you further up the bed. “And we can figure out the money thing. I wouldn't let the mother of my child go hungry."
“Well, uh, I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try,” you bite your lip before he pushes you down by the shoulders, climbing atop you, pressing his mouth against your neck.
“We’re doing this for Earth,” he mumbles in between his sucking and biting.
“For peace,” you agree, a little breathless.
This was either going to cause Cecil a stroke or be some good wank material.
*
“I think I might be a little obsessed with you,” he admits from in between your thighs, face drenched.
Join the club, you think delirious.
Mc’s mom looking up from hell to see Conquest doing the same thing he shamed her for; loving their daughter: I’m going to rip his dick off
*
Mc:
Thaedus: what have you done
*
Cecil, after meeting mc: mass suicide?
*
Mc, bullying Cecil because she can’t kill her dad: damn I need therapy
Mc: I’m going to physically intimidate that old man again.
*
Mc, sobbing after hearing someone sing ‘happy birthday’:
Mark, the ‘someone’: I’m…sorry??
*
Mark: so you’re not pregnant 😔
Oliver, lying a couple feet away, bleeding out: can you do this shit somewhere else
*
Mark: why is that variant still here…and why is he holding roses
Mc: should we keep him as a dog or something
Mark: no??
*
GDA admins, after basically creating a sex tape: delete…or save🤭
*
Conquest: where is the womb??? Where is my grandchild being held!?
I feel like whenever I come up with a title before I actually write a fic, I end up changing everything and doing a rewrite, which is what happened here…I decided to make mc apart of the coalition rather than the empire, creating a more estranged relationship, the only way love could form since it would impossible if mc was raised the Viltrumite way…anyone still around from when I made the original poll? I prefer this version more since there’s more freedom to write the mcs personality when they’re not part of a regime
Anyway even the style of the fic changed from being manwha adjacent to becoming a mix of Gintama/adult swin humour lol
But yay over 6.6k words ughh lemme know about any errors, I’m so bad at editing
I haven’t been on Quotev in forever but I decided to check out some of the old fics I used to read. I’m screaming why did the 2p Hetalia fic I was reading in middle school just update. I thought that the fandom was dead. ☠️ 😭😭😭
Bro I hope this means some of the other fics I have in my library get revived.
I just remembered that I still have my Wattpad account so I decided to see what fics I was reading in middle and high school before they monetized their original stories and added ads. ITS ALL GONE well actually except for 3 of them. But I don’t count them since 2 were written by friends of mine. I’m sad there were 2 original stories I liked that I wanted to reread. One was called Grilled Watermelon or something like that and it was about a lesbian werewolf . My queer awakening is gone fr😔. The second one was about a girl who gets turned into a succubus by the lead singer of a band. I never got to read the sequel smh😫. I wanted to reread them again with fresh eyes but oh well. Not to mention all the Fairy Tail fanfics with that cliche plot line of Lucy getting kicked out of the guild and becoming op are gone too. I don’t know why but Wattpad was where I went to for all my Fairy Tail fanfics lol. TBH the only good thing is that my Hetalia phase from back then got erased. Anyone remember the fandom creating the evil version of Hetalia aka 2p Hetalia. This is fr like when the Junjou Romantica x Sekaiichi Hatsukoi fic I was reading got purged off of fanfiction.net.
Anyways I just wanted to rant and will probably delete this.
The thing is that the whole thing with ICE isn’t even a legal problem, though there are legal issues involved with that whole organization and how they are run and who exactly is running and funding it, it is more so a problem of ethics and, to put it more plainly, a moral issue.
Because what does it say about a country when they can afford to fund an organization that snatches people—good and bad, no matter who they are, no matter what they’ve done with the only ‘real’ thing that truly has any sort of importance in this whole equation being the fact that all these people are different and that all these people speak a language that this country, these people, isn’t meant to know past the immediate ‘hi’s’ and ‘hello’s’—up from their homes and stuffs them somewhere where they can’t call home, they can’t leave, and where the conditions are horrific for the sake of… what, exactly?
Proving we are exactly like our forefathers? Proving that this country truly was built on the backs of not only slave labor but also on the profit that came with another groups suffering? Proving that you are stronger? That you are smarter? That you are tougher?
Donald Trump is a coward and so is everyone marching alongside him—following him like lambs, bowing their heads ever so gently, ever so respectfully, so as to not anger the man raising the axe to their pale, pale neck. (The sweetest lamb of the fucking herd.)
Give me a gun and I’ll start talking shit too.
Because what does it say about America when we can afford an organization like ICE but we can’t afford to feed our children? That we can’t afford our own rent? Our own healthcare?
What does it say when it is the government first and government always that gets a check on their desk at the beginning of each month while the rest of us scramble for pennies?
The people are hungry. The people are tired.
And, yeah, Donald Trump may be a man just like how my father was a man and just like how my little brother is a man. But only in the fact that they are all male do they intersect. The fact that he has a daughter, a wife, a son is not enough to justify the cruel act that is to leave him in office to run wild and send the country crumbling while he desperately attempts to achieve a half-shaped dementia-fuelled dream to bring back the America of his younger years.
Those years in which segregation was still around and, even after it being ‘killed’, was likely still around for years throughout his life and those racial injustices—those very injustices suffered by the black people, the Asian people, the Hispanic people of the American, and yes I say American, society of today still suffer through and suffer through it severely as white people just like Donald Trump sit upon their high horses, look down their high noses, and look upon the world surrounding them in revulsion as though this wasn’t the very world that birthed them.
And yet.
And yet he wears orange skin. And yet he mimics the very complexion of the people he hates. The skin of the dearly detested many that sit rotting in the very cages he has decided to shove these fine people into simply because… he wished it so.
In the end, no matter the justification, no matter the greed behind it, no matter the ideology—he just wanted to do it.
As Jeffery Epstein himself said, Donald Trump is a truly twisted and sick man.
And I hope he rots for what he’s done to my neighbours. I hope he rots for what he’s done to my friends.
And fuck you if you support him. I don’t know why you ever thought yourself welcome here.
