Discover Top Posts Tagged with #so weird

Long Forgotten Fairytale Ch. 8 (Soft Yan Shamrock x Reader, canon adjacent)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other chapters

I know Shanks wouldn’t have the scar or ship yet but let me live. They’re already off on their own canon adjacent adventure. Also remember they’re younger here - Mihawk isn’t the WSS yet. He’s training!

See note at the end if you're confused re: Clover's memory.

Six Months Later

Your POV

You were picking your way along the rocky shore, your hair blowing in your face from the strong winds, when you saw an unfamiliar vessel approaching the island. It wasn’t Mihawk’s little ship, you knew Hitsugibune on sight. After staying with you for a few weeks upon your arrival, Mihawk had sailed off on his little coffin and left you on the island alone, save for the humandrills and Titus. He’d returned twice so far, the first time after a month, the second time after two. He’d been gone for nearly three months this time and you did not know when he was coming back.

Perhaps Mihawk was on the incoming ship? It was large, easily able to tow Hitsugibune. Mihawk didn’t strike you as the kind of man to hitch a ride with others, he liked his privacy and peace too much. The ship had a dragon’s head as the mast and ran a pirate flag, though you weren’t familiar with the exact design. You hadn’t seen any other ships since you’d been on the island, but Mihawk had warned you hostile pirates or Marines coming to the manor was a possibility.

You weren’t sure exactly what he did for training when he was away but he spent a significant amount of time recuperating when he came back. The Swordsman was proud, unable to admit when he needed or wanted help. So even though he initially protested, you tended to him until he was healed. You made him food and brought him water and tea, though he only got wine with dinner. Mihawk would rest with his eyes closed while you softly read aloud books as you sat by his bedside.

At first you read the types of volumes he picked out for himself - often non-fiction on topics like agriculture and astronomy and biographies of famous swordsmen - but you sometimes read him your favorite stories. The one you liked the most was the one you’d found in the library - the fairy tale about the imprisoned beauty and her beastly captor. Mihawk would huff as you began reading but was silent for the duration, and even with-holding his commentary.

The second time Mihawk came back to Kuraigana, he was wounded, the field medicine rendered wherever he had been not sufficient for the depth of the slash he’d received. You often watched Mihawk when he trained on the island, feeling at peace as you watched him train. You couldn’t imagine who was strong enough to injure him, but there was a whole world out there you didn’t know about.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw the ship, a stone in your hand as Titus followed behind you in his horse form. A few months earlier you found that you were able to ride him fairly easily. Titus practically guided you on how to ride properly, even letting you grab his mane to center yourself. He was just as haughty and disdainful in his horse form as he was in his cat form, but you loved him all the same. Titus didn’t seem to mind Mihawk, and tolerated his presence well enough. Once, you caught Titus napping on Mihawk’s nap, the Swordman’s long fingers trailing through his fur as Titus purred. You still didn’t remember getting Titus, but you loved him all the same.

As the pirate ship drew near the island, you could see the jolly roger more closely – it bore two crossed swords and a skull with two red stripes down the left side of the skull. You’d spent some time reading about pirate and Marine history, the books giving conflicting information depending on the century of publication and inclination of the author. Despite the prevailing attitudes of the books, things were likely not as black and white as they said. Your best guess was that not all pirates were bad, and not all Marines were good.

You had discussed it extensively with Mihawk the last time he’d come back to the island. It turned out that he himself was a pirate of sorts, though he had no large ship, no crew, and no desire to find treasure. He sailed the seas in hopes of becoming the World’s Strongest Swordsman, but was an outlaw with a bounty nonetheless. He made some money by taking riches from those he defeated, but that seemed fair to you. Mihawk explained the general structure of society, how Marines were balanced by the Emperors, and how over the Marines was the World Government, ruled by the Celestial Dragons.

You spent time thinking over the few memories you could recollect and based on what Mihawk had told you, you were fairly sure you had been the personal attendant to a Celestial Dragon. The opulent, lavish castle you had lived in, the fine velvet cloak you’d been found in, your housekeeping skills…they all pointed towards the same conclusion. The realization didn’t help you remember anything else, but it did make you feel a little better to put together some pieces of your past. Mihawk said very little about Celestial Dragons, which was surprising given his extensive vitriol towards the Marines. You’d prodded him a few times but he didn’t answer your questions and changed the subject.

Mihawk had given you strict instructions on what to do if a foreign ship approached the island. If any ship that wasn’t his came near, you were supposed to run to the castle and call him on the snail he’d left for you after his first journey. After which, you were supposed to hide and hope the humandrills would protect you. You were thinking of asking Mihawk to give you some rudimentary fighting lessons, not wanting to be a sitting duck in the event of danger.

So now that there was an unfamiliar ship approaching the island, you did as you were told. The thought of unknown people coming to the island was frightening - what if they worked with your former masters? Or were coming to sell you back into slavery? You threw yourself on Titus’ back and spurred him to gallop towards the castle, your dress fluttering behind you in the wind. You dismounted Titus at the steps, and ran towards your chambers deep in the castle as he followed. You quickly found your snail and dialed Mihawk, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Mihawk picked up on the second ring.

“Mihawk, there is a ship on the horizon of the island,” you gasped as soon as he picked up, still out of breath from running up the flights of stairs.

“Yes. The ship belongs to Red Haired Shanks. He is an ally of sorts. You needn’t fear him nor his crew. I am not far behind, perhaps a half day or so of sailing. I should be at the island by late night,” he explained, the snail taking on his distinctive golden eyes.

“Al-alright,” you said softly, holding your gem in your hand. You couldn’t remember its origins, but it often served as a source of comfort during stressful times.

“Shanks is likely to invite himself into the castle. He will not harm you, nor will his men. You need not feed him nor look after him, he has a first mate and crew for such things. Do not let him eat all the biscotti. He is a glutton, he will try,” Mihawk continued. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. If Mihawk was sharing biscotti with him, he liked Shanks at least a little.

You actually did know who Red Haired Shanks was. Well, not personally. But every time the news coo delivered newspapers, you always went straight to the wanted posters to look for his smiling face. You had a secret collection of them, hidden deep in one of your drawers. You were too embarrassed to keep them out, lest Mihawk discover your fascination with the pirate. There were some murky half-memories that you tried to grasp for when you looked at his smiling face, but nothing concrete. There was something about him, something that drew you in at first glance.

You’d mentioned Shanks a few times to Mihawk, trying to discreetly ask for more information. Mihawk, despite his protests, did seem to keep Shanks in high estimation in some respects.

“Shanks is a worthy swordsman, though I would never say so to his face. His ego is already quite large and it doesn’t need help growing,” Mihawk drawled once after a few too many glasses of wine. “He will sleep with anything that moves if given half a chance. He’s a tomcat, through and through. Though I can’t seem to help but allow the stray in my own bed,” Mihawk said, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. You smiled, it wasn’t often that Mihawk revealed his emotions, much less unprovoked. It was charming to see the proud swordsman foolish in love, like everyone else.

So even though he was a rogue pirate, with one of the highest bounties on the seas, you watched eagerly from the window as his ship docked. A small dinghy carried several men towards the island. Your eyes instantly locked onto Red Haired Shanks, his smile wide as he held a straw hat on his head. He was just as handsome as in his wanted posters and as he laughed you found yourself smiling too. His eyes locked on yours, even though he was still far off in the ocean. How had he seen you? You ducked below the window, your heart beating rapidly.

As Shanks and his crew landed on the island, you stayed in your wing of the castle, unsure what to do. On one hand, Mihawk said you’d be safe and you trusted Mihawk with your life. On the other, Shanks was an unknown entity to you. Just because you liked his photo didn’t mean you should spend time around him. You lingered in your rooms, deliberating on what to do. Eventually it got darker outside and your rumbling stomach told you it was dinner time. You hadn’t heard any noise inside the castle, you didn’t think Shanks had come inside yet. Titus was sleeping on the bed, curled up into a tiny ball. You let him nap, covering him with your favorite velvet cloak.

You made your way to the kitchen and began preparing ingredients for a hearty stew. It was easy to make and lasted a while, so it had become a frequent favorite to cook. You chopped and sauteed everything you needed, added the stock and set the pot to simmer. Soon, delicious smells permeated the kitchen, the stew nearly done.

“Hello,” a voice said from right behind you. You screamed, dropping the wooden spoon in your hands as you startled. Two warm, calloused hands reached out to steady you, grabbing your shoulder and waist.

“Heh, sorry! Didn’t mean to frighten you,” a warm voice said as the hands receded. You swiveled, your back pressed against the counter. Right in front of you stood Red Haired Shanks, his bright smile making your stomach flip.

You knew him.

You were sure you did. A murky memory surfaced, something lewd and private, a moment shared between you. The memory came back to you all at once. Shanks leaning over and kissing you while the two of you were naked in his large, red four poster bed. His hair was longer then, and darker, with the sides braided back. He was paler and less freckled, with no scars but there was no doubt in your mind it was him.

The memory flooded your mind all at once as you stared at the tall man in front of you. You remembered Shanks telling you he loved you, that he would always protect you, that you never had to be afraid of him. Your face heated as you remembered the tender way he’d caressed your body, how he’d laved at your breasts, finally dipping his head lower to your sopping wet pussy. How he’d taken his time with you, how he’d made love to you. It was so clear in your mind, every detail coming back in perfect form.

“I know you,” you whispered. Shanks tilted his head from where he’d bent down to pick up the spoon.

“I don’t think so, Love. We’ve never met,” Shanks said, putting the spoon in the sink. He didn’t look like he was lying, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“We have, we were - d-don’t you remember?” you asked, ashamed that he forgot the emotional time the two of you spent together.

“Sorry, Love. The last time I was on this island, only Mihawk lived here. I’m Red Haired -”

“I know who you are,” you whispered, biting your lip. Tears filled your lashline as Shanks denied knowledge of your only clear memory from your recent past. He had been so tender, so loving - how come he didn’t remember you?

“We have met,” you insisted, raising your hand but lacking the courage to touch his tan arm. The corners of Shanks’ mouth turned down slightly as he scratched the back of his neck. And there it was - you recognized him when he smiled, but when he turned pensive you knew him. He was someone from your past, nothing he said could tell you otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“Your hair was longer then! You didn’t have your scars, but I - you - we - we were in your room, the red one? With the four poster bed? We were - we were- don’t you -” your voice broke as tears fell down your cheeks. “Don’t you remember me?” Shanks wiped away your tears with his thumb, a spark of recognition passing through his features. He knew you too, you were certain.

“No, Love. I’ve always had short hair. You can ask Mihawk when he hits the island, he’s known me for years. And I don’t have a red bedroom or a four poster bed. I live on my ship and you can ask any of my crew - you’ve never been on it. I’m sorry, but we’ve never met before,” he said softly, as you turned away from him. Humiliation burned through you - you were sure you’d had sex with him before. But if he wasn’t going to admit to loving you, you wouldn’t bring it up again. You wanted to bolt, to lick your wounds in private. You took a deep breath and stopped crying, something in you able to turn off your outward showing emotions with ease.

“Of course. M-my mistake, Master,” you said, the honorific slipping out before you could stop it. You bowed stiffly, and ran from the kitchen.

~

You eventually calmed down after crying for what felt like hours. It was mortifying to remember someone making tender love to you only for the same person to deny ever having met you. On top of that, you knew with unshakable conviction that you and Shanks knew one another.

You needed more evidence.

Shanks was still in the castle, you could hear him puttering around and helping himself to anything available. You resorted to spying on him, unable to keep away from the handsome man. Since the castle had been designed for nobles with slaves and servants, there were servant corridors that ran through the entire structure adjacent to the main hallways. You found the hidden entrances easily, slipping in and out without making noise. And right now you were using them to spy on Shanks.

Titus had gotten up from his cat nap to find you, winding his furry body through your legs with increasing frequency. He was on edge, meowing constantly as if Shanks was a threat to you. Eventually you just picked him up and held him in your arms like a baby, shushing him when he became too loud.

Unfortunately Shanks wasn’t doing anything particularly interesting. He dallied for a while in the kitchen, eating most of your stew and all of the biscotti. He did clean up after himself, though, which was a point in his favor. Afterwards, he ambled to the master bathroom and took a leisurely bath. You smelled Mihawk’s bath salts in the air, Shanks certainly felt entitled to Mihawk’s belongings. Then Shanks went on a stroll through the manor, eventually finding his way to the wine cellar. You were watching him read over wine labels when he spoke out loud.

“You can come out if you’d like, I know you’re there,” he said with a light laugh, putting a bottle of low quality Merlot back on the rack. How did he know you were watching? You reluctantly came out from your hiding place in the servant corridor and lingered in the doorway to the wine cellar. Titus squirmed his way out of your arms, dropping to the ground and stalking towards Shanks, his tail twitching.

“Which bottle of wine do you think- hey! Cut it out!” Shanks whined as Titus hissed and swiped at his exposed legs.

“Titus!” you said, hurrying forward to grab the angry cat.

“Ah, don’t worry. Maybe we just need to be introduced,” Shanks assured you as he leaned down to pick up Titus. Titus smirked, allowing Shanks to carry him in his arms.

“See?All animals love me- wh -uh goddamit!” You gasped as Titus changed himself into his horse form, knocking Shanks to the ground. Titus looked incredibly pleased with himself and raised his hind hoof to kick the infamous pirate.

“Titus! Bad kitty!” you reprimanded him, grabbing him by the muzzle. Titus did not look repentant, huffing and tossing his head. “Turn back now, you know the rules,” you chided, now stroking his side.

“He’s certainly…spirited,” Shanks said, standing up slowly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why he did that, he’s never reacted like this before,” you explained as Titus changed himself back into a cat. Shanks gave the cat a frown, making your heart beat faster. There it was again, a look so familiar your arms ached to reach for him.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Shanks deadpanned, glaring at the cat now purring in your arms.

“Why?” you asked, wrinkling your nose.

“Hm? Why what?” Shanks asked, perking up.

“Why aren’t you surprised? Do you know Titus?” you asked, trying to fish for more information. Shanks’ mouth twisted for a moment before he answered.

“Oh, uh. No, no. Cats never like me,” he said with an easy smile. Something in your gut told you he was lying.

“I thought you said all animals love you,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“Er, no. Not cats,” Shanks said, grabbing another bottle off the rack. “Is this wine good? When I’m here Mihawk picks for me, I don’t usually drink wine. What should I have?” Shanks asked, obviously trying to change the subject. You pursed your lips but allowed the matter to drop. Crossing over, you took the bottle out of his hands and read the label.

“Mm. No, I don’t think so. Someone like you might like this,” you replied, replacing the bottle. You let your instinct guide you, moving over to the white wine rack. You hummed and selected an expensive bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, turning it over in your hands. “Try this one,” you said, giving it to Shanks.

“How do you know I’ll like it?” Shanks asked, his eyes roving over your face. You ambled back to the door, wanting space from Shanks. It was too confusing to be near him, your heart telling you that you knew each other while he continued to deny it completely.

“Because I know you.”

~

Hours later and you were tossing and turning in your bed. You couldn’t sleep, too plagued by thoughts of Red Haired Shanks. You replayed the memory of you and Shanks making love on an endless loop in your mind. He had to be lying, he had to. No one forgot someone they said they loved, that they would keep safe, that cupped your face and kissed you endlessly. You just had to figure out how to get him to admit how he knew you.

You were no closer to sleeping than you were hours prior, so you threw off the blankets and put on your slippers. You had the thought to go to the kitchens for a late night snack, having missed dinner due to Shanks. As you padded softly through the halls, you heard the sounds of Mihawk and Shanks talking in the parlor. Mihawk must have made it back earlier than he anticipated due to the strong winds. They’d notice if you lingered near, but you knew the castle like the back of your hand.

You quietly crept to the sitting room two floors above the parlor. They weren’t connected by a corridor but there was a flue that ran from the fireplace of the parlor straight through the manor to the roof. The sitting room shared the same flue, so you positioned yourself so your head was in the empty fireplace and listened in to the conversation. You took in a sharp breath as you realized they were discussing you.

“-could sleep with her, you know. She must have retained some memories, based on what you've said,” Mihawk drawled. You could practically see Mihawk, his legs crossed, swirling his wine in his favorite chair.

“D’ya really think so low of me? That’s not right, that’s beyond deception. That’s practically assault,” Shanks replied, genuine hurt in his tone.

“Hm. You may be right, I may have gone too far. I apologize, Red Haired,” Mihawk replied. Your eyebrows hiked, Mihawk liked Shanks enough to apologize to him.

“And I think he might actually kill me if I sleep with her. Like, truly. I happened to see his goodbye to her, he really loves her. I think she’s the only thing tethering him to the real world,” Shanks said, serious for a moment. You put your hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp. Who loved you? Shanks did know, he and Mihawk were keeping secrets from you. Why wouldn’t they tell you? Your heart sank as you realized Mihawk was lying to you as well, your trust in him shattering with every word that left his mouth.

“Besides, I don’t wanna sleep with her. I have you, Hawkie,” Shanks said, the sleight already forgotten.

“Hmph. Is that so? You seem to dally frequently with others,” Mihawk replied dryly. You wanted them to return to talking about whoever loved you, but it seemed the conversation had moved on.

“Aw, come on. I get bored.”

“When I get bored, I read a book,” Mihawk retorted.

“That is so not true. When you get bored you pick fights and destroy Marine bases,” Shanks rebutted with a snort. There was shuffling for a moment before Mihawk let out a grunt.

“You are just like that cat. Curled up in my lap, constantly seeking affection,” Mihawk grumbled without malice.

“What? Titus likes you?” Shanks asked incredulously.

“Of course. All cats like me. He hovers around Clover, but he will seek me out if she is unavailable.”

“Well, he hates me. I tried to pick him up and he turned into a fuckin’- oww! What was that for?” Shanks replied with a yelp.

“Watch your language.”

“I’m a goddamn pirate! My bounty is- hey!”

“I am also an outlaw and my bounty exceeds yours. You know my stance on coarse language. Once more and you’re going over my knee.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good fuckin’ time,” Shanks said, drawing out the curse word for maximum effect. Your face heated as the conversation became muffled and the sound of a belt being removed came up the flue. You shuffled backwards, making as little noise as possible as Shanks’ moan ringing loudly up the chute. You wanted to hear more about your past, not listen to their private affairs.

Who loved you? And why couldn’t you remember him?

Shamrock POV

“Pick one,” Garling demanded, leaning on his cane. Shamrock sneered at the assembled noble women standing in a small group in front of him. The women represented the best of the noble world, all of them with certificates showing their pure bloodlines. They simpered and curtsied, batting their eyes, jiggling their breasts, and giggling in an effort to attract his attention. Shamrock stood above them on the stairs of the Garling estate as they assembled in the main hall below.

Shamrock could scarcely tell one from another, all dressed in similar fine garments of varying hues, their hair styled into stiff designs. And yet despite the countless hours and Beri spent on their looks, none of their artifice could compare to your effortless grace and beauty. Shamrock would just as soon separate their heads from their bodies as spend time with any of the disingenuous, duplicitous snakes.

Father wanted Shamrock to be engaged to someone now that his initial training was nearly complete. He would train directly with Father next, something Shamrock was not looking forward to. Shamrock had yet a ways to go, but his power (and control over it) were growing by the day.

“No. They are all disgusting,” Shamrock said with a flick of his hand, uncaring as the women wilted in front of him. “I want someone worthy of my family name.” In reality, Shamrock only wanted you, but of course he couldn’t say that. As far as Father knew, you were dead. And Shamrock wanted to keep it that way.

“All women are the same, none are worthy. Select one and be done with it,” Garling said with a snarl, irritated with the exercise. Shamrock wasn’t sure why Father wanted him married, but he wanted no part in it.

“No. If I wish for a whore, I’ll buy one. A wife would distract me from my training,” Shamrock said with a sniff. Father gave him an assessing glance, like he could detect there was something else in Shamrock’s mind. Shamrock met Father’s gaze head on, almost daring him to say something. Shamrock’s power was growing, soon he wouldn’t need to fear Father’s wrath.

Father frowned and waved off the women. Their coy smiles immediately dropped into scowls, revealing their true characters. Shamrock raised a manicured brow, his hand now resting on the pommel of his sword. The women tittered to one another in fright, leaving hurriedly shortly thereafter. His reputation for ruthlessness preceded him, though it didn't stop the fools from trying to win his favor.

“Very well. I accept your declination -- for now. But you will marry before your 21st birthday.”

Just for clarity -- the reason she can remember Shamrock here is because this isn’t a memory. She admitted to Shamrock in a previous chapter that she fantasized about him - she is “remembering” that fantasy. It wasn’t actually a memory, so it wasn’t taken by the devil fruit user.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuffff @rebeccawinters @sanjisleggy @nerium-lil @unwillingstars @ceramic-raven @retardhaven @srishh @yunheadlings @dolychan @petuniasmd @rubyninja1 @a3fv @iansimpsforeveryone

#so weird

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#so weird