CLOSED MOUTHS DON'T GET FED - masterpost / Chapter 1
a one piece story, 2nd person pov, female OC
After jumping from crew to crew for years, you decide join the Roger Pirates. The crew is nothing like you expected and you quickly realize you need to take matters into your own hands. Stuck between a hot pervert and an ice cold hunter, your days are anything but dull.
tumblr links: tag, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17,
AO3 links: full work
images: Gaban, Rayleigh
The port of Morgan’s Landing was lively this morning. Sailors and dockworkers calling out to each other as they moved goods, seagulls screaming as they dived for scraps, barely missing your head as you weaved among crates and people. The man you were looking for was a few warehouses ahead, leaning over papers laid out on a crate, deep in thought. You adjusted the bag on your shoulder and kept walking with a measured pace. You didn’t want to give the impression of an over-excited rookie, even if the sweat down your back was making you feel anything but composed. You’ve been tracking this ship for ages. As you got closer, you saw the Oro Jackson come into full view with its crew hard at work, inspecting the rigging. The ship was humongous, towering over almost every other ship in the port by half. Your target seemed minute in comparison, yet your nerves were firing. This is it. Walking straight at the blond man, the crew noticed you before he did and you could feel their eyes poking and prodding, curious to see who’s bothering their first mate.
You swallowed hard to keep yourself calm, stopped a few paces behind him and called out, “Hey, you the Dark King?”
He straightened up at your candid address and slowly turned to look at you, his face neutral but eyes bright with surprise and curiosity.
Not giving him time to answer your question, you continued, “I’m Jaida, I wanna join your crew.”
If he had kept his composure at your first words, he certainly couldn’t keep it a second time. His eyebrows shot up above his glasses and he looked you up and down to see if you were joking. The crew had by now abandoned their duties and were gathering at the rail to observe more closely, without the slightest attempt to conceal their interest. It was unnerving having so many eyes on you and you subconsciously straightened up under the scrutiny. You willed your eyes to stay on the Dark King as he was studying you, trying not to glance up at the crew. You didn’t want to look nervous, but you could see in his expression that there was no fooling him. You raised your chin defiantly and saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
He tilted his head and asked, “Join our crew, huh? Why do you want to do that?”
You let out the breath you were holding.
“Well, I’m tired of watching my back with pirates and marines, and you guys look strong enough that I feel like I’d only need to watch out for pirates.” Which was true. Your previous crews were too weak to fight marines and you lost a lot of sleep worrying if you’ll be arrested.
An amused murmur rose up from the deck of the Oro Jackson while the man before you fixed his glasses. He kept his hand over his face as if considering your words, but you could see he was trying to hide a smile. It comforted you to think that even if you fail today, you can at least add ‘Made the Dark King laugh’ to your list of achievements.
“C’mon Rayleigh, let us have the girl!” shouted a man from the deck and earned himself a thunderous laugh from the crew.
You scanned the men at the railing. By the smug smile on his face and the puffing of his chest, you determined it was Scopper Gaban that said that. You recognized him from the posters, the left hand of Gol D. Roger. You shot him a dirty look and turned back to Rayleigh, wondering why attractive men always ruin their looks with their stupid mouths.
Rayleigh waved a hand in the crew’s direction to silence them. “So, what can you do?”
Not doubting you. Not warning you of danger. Not boasting their own strength or their exploits. This was a man who trusted that you were making an informed choice and were prepared to deal with the consequences of making that choice. You couldn’t help but like him immediately. You respected his strength before, everybody’s heard of him, but this small moment of him believing you can handle yourself made you respect his character as well.
“I’ve been sailing for years, so I know my way around a ship. I’m good at navigation and pretty good at drawing.” You studied his face for a clue, but he was giving you nothing. “I can sew clothes, patch sails, knit and basket weave. I’ve also done some leatherworking and helped out in a forgery once, so I know how to do basic fixes on most gear and weapons…”
You trailed off, discouraged by his unchanged expression. You could see that it wasn’t enough. They were a big and strong crew, most necessary jobs were already covered or they wouldn’t be sailing. You didn’t bother promoting your fighting capabilities. A small-time fighter like you would barely make a difference in their strength. Sighing, you slumped your shoulders and accepted defeat as you embraced your last-ditch attempt.
“I can cook.”
“Can you fuck?!” hollered from the deck, followed by the sound of grown men snickering.
Heavens help, you groaned internally. You’d roll your eyes if the situation wasn’t as dire. You really wanted this. Rayleigh’s face brightened at your words and he completely ignored Gaban’s interjection.
“Great, we could use some help in the kitchen! Welcome to the crew!”
Stuck between elation and dread you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to be a stereotype. The only woman on the crew and you’d work in the kitchen. Yet you just got the chance to join one of the strongest crews in the world. Rayleigh waved you in the direction of the gangway and turned back to his papers. Feeling heat rising to your cheeks pulled you out of your shock. You won’t be caught off guard by the threat of a stereotype.
“So, what do I call you?”
Surprised him again. He looked back over his shoulder, eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint and flashed a slight smile your way.
“Rayleigh’s fine.”
You gave a small nod of acknowledgement and turned away. Throwing a wary glance at the crew, you slowly made your way down the dock. Their curiosity satisfied, the crew had dispersed and returned to their tasks. All except one. Gaban. He matched your slow pace from above and shadowed you behind the rail. Grinning like a mad man, he was waiting for a chance to show off. You kept your head straight, pretending he wasn’t there. Pretending he wasn’t intimidating and handsome. But you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to steal some side glances. He was stupidly tall. Walked like he owned the place. You liked the confidence. He wore a tight short sleeved T-shirt, so you could see all he had to offer. And he had a lot to offer. Big strong arms. Well built chest. Muscles rippling on top of muscles. Your eyes were wandering and it took you a moment to realize - the idiot is flexing!
You choked down something between a scoff and a gasp, but a noise still escaped you. A noise he heard. You know he heard because his wide grin got even wider, something that only a moment ago seemed impossible. You puffed out your cheeks and let out a slow exhale, grounding yourself. You were almost at the ramp when you heard footsteps behind you. You’d never admit it but you felt relief when Rayleigh walked up beside you to accompany you to the deck. He seemed like the voice of reason in this crew. You felt like you could trust him.
Reaching the deck you finally met Gaban eye to eye as he strutted up right to you. At least as much as you could, considering he was wearing sunglasses and you just about reached his chin. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent a smile and looked him square into his face, hoping to look as mean as you could, as he purposefully leaned over you with his arms crossed. For a moment, everything paused.
“I like your axe,” he said in a low voice, raising his eyebrows slightly.
Your eyes flickered to your hip where you had your tool belt. Slung behind your two boucan knives and some smaller tools was your trusty axe. It has saved you on more than one occasion, be it for gathering firewood on a deserted island or splitting a skull in the middle of the street. Looking back up, you studied your tiny yet furious reflection in his round frames.
“Thanks, she’s quick with chopping off hands.”
Gaban’s smile never faded but his lips curled and the air started crackling over the deck as he leaned over you even more. Your muscles were tense and your mind was racing. Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had a brawl on your first day, though it usually wasn’t with leadership.
Your little stand off was interrupted by Rayleigh clearing his throat and saying, “I’ll show you where you can drop off your bag.”
The tension and Gaban immediately deflated, the only thing left was his smile. You gave him a one over and turned to follow Rayleigh below deck. Walking away you nervously repositioned the bag on your shoulder, eager to get away from the burning gaze piercing your back.
_______
The ship was similar to most others in its layout and storage. There was an order to doing things when sailing and you were glad to find something familiar in a new place. Alcohol and ammunition in the hold, ship’s supplies on the deck above it. The ropes and cordage were a tripping hazard, but at least they were all in the same place. Another deck full of supplies pushed between heavy guns and a separate bathing area. Sleeping quarters and more guns were next above. That's where you dropped off your bag and started exploring after Rayleigh said you won’t set sail until the next tide. Above the sleeping deck was the mess deck with a cafeteria and the kitchen. The captain’s quarters and other cabins were above deck on the stern along with the navigation room, with doctor’s office in the bow of the ship above the kitchen. The ship was large, so you spent most of the day poking your head in and out of places until your stomach reminded you of the time. Ready to face your fate, you made your way to the cafeteria and stopped in front of the kitchen door, opening it slowly.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight. Or the smell. Three people were already inside, doing heavens know what. Scavenging was the only word that came to mind. The kitchen was dusty, dirty, and grimy. It seemed like every surface was giving off a different rotten smell. The wood was darkened by what you assumed were grease and spills. There were small piles of discarded food on every flat surface, a layer of dust already on the older ones, with used plates and bowls and utensils piled up wherever possible. Everything looked sticky. You stood at the door, mouth open in shock, still processing the situation when a stocky man with a horned helmet pushed past you into the kitchen.
“Alright boys, let’s get lunch ready.”
The scavengers immediately jumped up and got busy. The short man turned back to you.
“Why are you in here? You can’t get snacks while we’re preparing a meal,” he demanded.
“I’m… I’m new to the crew. My name’s Jaida. I was assigned to the kitchen.”
His piercing look softened.
“Oh right, you’re this morning’s entertainment. I’m Mille Pain, you can call me Milly. Sorry, thought you were here to steal food like they usually do. Nevermind. Grab something green from the pantry, cut it up and throw it into the pot.”
Something green… That’s not very specific, you thought. You nodded and quickly made your way to the back of the kitchen, assuming that’s where the pantry will be. The others were already quietly chopping vegetables and questionable meat, while Milly was starting up the stove with a big pot on it. You privately shook your head.
You fished out something resembling a large vegetable and got to work. You chose the middle counter to observe the whole operation. You could afford to look around, you were skilled enough with a kitchen knife. The same couldn’t be said for this crew though and you kept flinching when they barely missed their fingers slamming down their knives. There was no order to things being done and none of ‘cooks’ looked like they knew what they were really doing. The chunks that went into the pot made you cringe and you worried what your stomach would have to say about this. The last thing you needed was food poisoning your first week on a new ship. A piece of slime fell from the ceiling next to you, making you flinch. Nevermind a week, you’ll be glad to make it through the day.
The slop broth was finished and some stale bread brought out to serve for lunch. The kitchen crew got their bowls and ate their portions before opening the pass-through window. You ate quickly to taste as little as possible, twitching with every bite and then stepped up to the counter to serve out the meal. You stood by the pot, armed with a ladle. Milly was next to you, putting spoons in bowls and passing them closer to you. Behind him, two pirates were unstacking piles of bowls down on the counter and passing them to Milly, with the fifth pirate searching the kitchen for more utensils. You grabbed the closest bowl and threw in some slop, handing it out to the first in line.
Surprisingly the crew was orderly in their wait to be served a meal and you took the time to look at them properly. Most were just regular men of all shapes and sizes, with one fishman who towered over them. Then there was a couple of large men who could throw all the rest overboard with one hand, one twice the size of the fishman. No wonder they were the biggest threat sailing in the Grand Line.
Standing at the window, you saw that Gaban was one of the first to arrive but he didn’t get into line. Instead he seemed content with just lounging around, leaning on every surface as if he was posing. You gritted your teeth and kept your eyes on the task, focusing on delivering slop into bowls instead of sending it to the floor. You weren’t going to encourage him. He knew you couldn’t avoid seeing him and just that thought seemed enough. He let everyone else cut in line in front of him and kept watching you. The off-duty crew finished up and went to relieve the on-duty crew, who had now started to line up for their meal. Things were falling into a rhythm.
One of the last to arrive for lunch was Rayleigh, who shot Gaban a warning look and got in line, not even thinking about cutting due to his seniority. The man kept getting more and more likeable.The pot was slowly emptying, with Rayleigh and Gaban being the last to be served. Rayleigh took two bowls, nodded at you and walked out from the mess hall. It dawned on you that you’ve yet to see the captain. Your thought was cut short as Gaban threw himself on the counter, propped himself up on his elbows and leaned as close as possible.
“Look at you, hard at work, huh. What a good girl.”
Forget your cheeks, your whole head was hot and steaming. You saw red. You barely stopped a growl, but you bared your teeth and scowled at him. It was the most you trusted yourself with, otherwise you were afraid you’ll launch yourself straight at his face. While he laughed at your reaction, you stared at his bowl, contemplating spitting in it and serving it to him. You shook your head to dismiss the thought, scrapped the bottom of the pot for the burnt bits of slop and slammed it into the bowl. Gaban grabbed the bowl from your hand so fast, he almost took you with it, earning himself another dirty look. He straightened up and you thought you could relax.
“Too bad. I would’ve liked that taste, sugar,” he remarked and walked off.
You were floored. Was he a freak AND a psychic? You stood there, mouth open, holding the ladle in mid air, slop slowly pouring off of it. You tried to form a thought. An insult. Something. Anything. All your brain had to offer were seagull cries. Milly sighed and pulled the ladle from your hand to put it away, while the rest of the kitchen crew snickered and disappeared out of sight. The snickering made you recover from shock and you slammed the window cover shut. The kitchen was already empty and you stood still for a second, taking a few deep breaths. It’s been a whirlwind of a first day and it’s only half gone by. By the end of the week you’ll either completely adapt or go crazy. It seemed like there was no in-between with these guys.
Determined to find an anchor in this storm, you made your way back to the pantry which seemed like the most remote part of the ship for you to hide in. You decided to do a quick survey of what’s hidden in it. Thinking about supplies seemed like the most boring, stable and calming brain exercise you could imagine.
The majority of food was just onions, potatoes, meat and flour. Lots and lots of flour. You saw a pop of color here and there indicating a vegetable, but they seemed to be there more by mistake than by design. It couldn’t have been more than an hour into your pantry dig, when you heard the door open and footsteps approaching. Seas help me, not Gaban again, you thought, groaning internally and rolling your eyes. To your surprise and - even though you would never admit it - also disappointment, the footsteps belonged to another crewmember. A tall, slender man with bangs and a ponytail entered the pantry and flinched when he saw you crouching on the ground, surrounded by heaps of potatoes.
“Uhh, is this a bad time?”
That brought out a hearty laugh from you.
“No, you’re fine,” you replied with a smile still on your face.
“You’re one of the new mates! I’m guessing the one everybody’s been buzzing about, from this morning? I’m Spencer.”
“Jaida. Nice to meet ya.”
You both paused in a pleasant silence.
“So, what can I help you with?” you offered.
“Oh, right. I’m just here to return my bowl and grab some snacks. No offense to your cooking.«
You raised your open palms in defeat. “None taken. I know what I’m working with. But I gotta ask, is the pantry a free-for-all on this ship?”
“Yeah, mostly. Milly doesn’t really care if we take stuff,” he replied while shoving his hand into a shelf and fishing out a crumbling cupcake and salt crackers.
“What if stuff runs out unexpectedly? Like ingredients that were on the meal plan?”
“Meal plan?” he contemplated. “Yeah, I think you’re overestimating the amount of thought that goes into this, to be honest. Milly just uses what there is to make enough for everyone.”
You gaped at him. It seemed incomprehensible. What if a voyage lasted longer than expected? Or an island was unexpectedly barren? Did they have no emergency rationing? The Grand Line was too big and too dangerous for such tomfoolery. How did they survive for so long?
He saw your shock and playfully punched you in the shoulder. “Oh c’mon! It’s not that bad, you should be used to it by now. You’ve been sailing for a decade! I should know, I compiled your file this morning, miss Jaida Tabbach!”
Having dropped that information bomb, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving you spinning in your thoughts again. Used to it? My file? Well, suppose it makes sense. They’d want to know who was joining them. You’ve never had a background check before or at least weren’t made aware of it. You kinda wondered what it said. Which events made it in? What impression did your file leave?
You sighed and scrambled to your feet. There was no salvation to be found in the pantry. Might as well enjoy your free time until the next meal. You cringed at that thought and walked out.
_____
Morgan’s Landing was already too small to see and the island was slowly disappearing into the horizon as well. The kitchen crew had finished distributing dinner and you washed the pot thoroughly. All the meals were the same, just as Spencer said. Tasteless, ambiguous in its contents, and easy to gulp without chewing. You felt sick. Not that you were spoiled, but at least on other ships meals were treated as necessary fuel. Someone at some point looked at food groups and made sure you had all of them on your plate at least once a week. You shook your head as you dried your hands, trying not to worry about it. There wasn’t really anything you could do, especially as a newly joined member.
With dinner over, there was still time to get your notebook and do some sketching. Your steps had a bounce to it as you walked to your sleeping area. Regardless of the quality of meals, you saw how smoothly the crew worked when the ship set sail and the efficiency Rayleigh and Gaban ran them with. Nothing escaped their eye and nothing was left for a later time. It was great watching the crew work like they shared a hive mind. It made you hopeful that this is a place you would want to belong to.
Reaching your hammock, you searched for your bag, crouching by the pile of everyone’s personal belongings. It wasn’t where you left it. And definitely wasn’t how you left it. You let out a deep sigh and quickly inspected if anything was missing. There was no notebook. So it was finally your turn. You’ve noticed some bruises and a black eye at dinner, so you had time to mentally prepare. You never liked this part of joining a crew and you never participated in it yourself. Ship life and pirate life was already hard enough, there was no reason for the added stress. Some crews got away with just pranks, others were downright cruel. You were about to see which one the Roger Pirates were. Sighing again, you sat back on your heels, thinking about your next move.
“Looking for something?”
The voice came from behind you. Standing on the stairs leading to the lower deck were three pirates, casually listing through your notebook. One had your shawl draped around his shoulders, a second had your wool headband on. You tutted as you stood up and faced them.
“You guys wearing my tampons too?”
They gaped and tried to hide their surprise with scoffs and coughs. They weren’t expecting anything else but pleading. You walked up to the edge of the stairs and narrowed your eyes. They were standing in the middle of the stairway, meaning they had positioned themselves below you. Rookie mistake.
Looming at the edge and looking down at them, you extended your arm and said, “Give it.”
Scoffing again, they looked at each other and started laughing.
The lanky middle one said, “Ooh, you hear that boys? We should just give the book back to the rook-!”
You had already launched yourself from the top of the stair straight at him. By speaking first, he outed himself as the ringleader. You knew that lackeys usually backed off when their leader was defeated. Your ears barely registered the yells of the other two.
Flying into the lower deck you landed on top of him in a pile of small chests and ropes, exploding dust and dirt into the air, both of your breaths knocked out from the impact force. Wasting no time you started landing punches wherever you could, hardly seeing anything in the low lamp light. You had one hand grabbing his collar so you knew where approximately to aim as you held your head down at an angle to protect your eyes, chin and throat from the worst hits. He wasn’t wasting any time either, recovering almost immediately and landing a couple of strong punches in your stomach and ribs. You two were half punching, half wrestling as you struggled to overpower the other. If it weren’t for the growls and hissing it would almost look like a dance, the way you were pulling each other around the room by your shirts while trying to land a punch, neither willing to let go for the fear of losing their ground. By the time you smashed into the third gun, there were thunderous footsteps running on the deck above you.
The lackeys were still yelling, though now it seemed like a warning. Landing on the gun sent pulsing pain throughout your back and now you were fighting on desperation alone. As you pulled your hand back for another punch, the footsteps smashed down the stairs and reached you. Your hand was just about to connect with the pirate’s jaw, when you were yanked away, suddenly dangling like a kitten held by the scruff and your punch flew through empty air. The pirate was gone from your grip and a lamp raised in your face. You squinted from the light, then forced yourself to open your eyes and blinked to see what was going on.
Standing in front of you were the captain and Gaban, looking like pissed off sea beasts. Gaban had one arm wrapped around both lackeys and the other hand holding the ringleader in the air by the neck, with the captain inspecting him up close. Your air jail was much gentler, the hand gripping your clothes instead and you carefully turned your head to see that the arm holding you up belonged to Rayleigh.
He was staring daggers and his voice was dangerously calm as he asked, “Mind explaining what’s going on here?”
The air pulsed. It was heavy, almost suffocating, and not because of the dust your fight set off. You could see faces above the stairs, prying, but pretending not to. You tried to wiggle out of the grip, but you felt your clothes pull as Rayleigh tightened his hold and gave up. Your whole body started to ache as tension left you.
“I thought it was understood that hazing is frowned upon on this ship,” said the captain while holding up your belongings.
At those words, Gaban shook the dangling pirate and squeezed his arm tighter so the lackeys gasped for air, just to emphasize the point. You looked at the ringleader as he chose silence, already damned by the obvious situation you were caught in. You didn’t know what the punishment would be, but the serious looks on everyone’s face told you it doesn’t fare well for them. Rayleigh’s eyes fell upon you. Just as he was about to speak again, you interjected.
“I uh… I tripped down the stairs! I wanted to um… draw the view from the, uh, gun opening… before, um, before the island disappeared completely. To capture the moment, you know?”
You looked around, nodding to emphasize your point.
“I must’ve missed a step and went flying. Then I landed on him, just as he was about to go upstairs. I was really lucky he was there to break my fall. Really, I should be thanking him. I could’ve hit my head on one of the guns, who knows what would’ve happened, if he ha-”
A barely felt shake from Rayleigh’s grip stopped your rambling. The silence was deafening.
The hazing trio looked even more terrified than before. The captain hummed loudly at your words, studying first you and then the offenders. Rayleigh didn’t turn his head away from you, just flickered his eyes to Gaban and gave him an imperceptible nod, before meeting your gaze. His eyes were intense, but you couldn’t help but imagine some amusement in them. Gaban loosened his grip just slightly and the trio gasped in unison.
“You fell?” Rayleigh repeated, eyes locked on you, piercing your brain.
You nodded furiously.
“While you were on the way to draw… the view from the gun hatch?”
“Mhm!” you nodded again, pressing your lips together.
The lie was so bad, it made you want to laugh. You were betting on Rayleigh deciding to believe your obvious lie to keep you in the crew’s good graces. Punishment for hazing will not help your friendly relations.
“I thought the contrast between the darkness inside and bright sky outside would be fun to capture, with the gun pointing to the island in the middle of the drawing and I just wanted to follow my inspiration! I thought it would be a nice memory, to capture the island where I joined the crew,” you continued your rambling under his piercing gaze.
You felt brave enough to pepper in a smile.
“Why didn’t you draw the view from the upper gun deck? Weren’t you just there? There’s also more light upstairs, making it easier to draw.” His words put the nails in your story’s coffin.
Your smile was gone. You were staring at Rayleigh’s now openly amused face and you felt like his gaze was challenging you to try and wriggle out of this situation. He had pulled you closer, so now you had to choose which eye to look at to keep eye contact and your gaze darted back and forth between his remarkable blue eyes, unable to decide which one to look at, while your mind raced.
“I… um, I. I like a challenge?”
A snort escaped Gaban, breaking the tension. Suddenly the deck was breathable and the tight air loosened its grip as the captain started laughing. It was a deep belly laugh, one you might imagine a bear would have. With a sigh, Rayleigh gently put you down and Gaban opened his arms. The trio dropped on the floor like ragdolls and scrambled away. Your gaze fell on the floorboards where a fresh blood splatter was staining the wood. You remembered that at some point your elbow had made contact with the pirate’s nose. Gaban saw your look and gave you a knowing smirk. You hoped the low light hid your blush.
As Gaban turned to walk back upstairs, he turned his head to the side and remarked over his shoulder, “You sure do know how to pick ‘em, Ray.”
His voice had no sting, but you still cringed at the thought of being a burden to Rayleigh. You watched Gaban walk off and heard him start barking orders on the upper gun deck. The ceiling came alive with the footsteps of men who, just a moment ago, were pretending not to eavesdrop on your situation. Something tickled your upper lip and you wiped it with the back of your hand. It came back bloody. You sighed, releasing the tension from your shoulders, before realizing Rayleigh and the captain were still standing next to you, both of their eyes fixed on you, studying you intently. At least the captain was smiling wide. For your first close encounter with the man, that was alright. As your eyes darted between them, Rayleigh’s mouth twitched and you thought he was going to say something. Instead he grabbed your stuff from the captain, pushed it into your arms and walked off with the lamp. The captain trailed off behind him, leaving you in the dim light.
Next chapter>
