Star-spacer - Distant Stars Hold My Wishes For You

if Volo was in a mermaid/merman AU his tail would be based on a shiny Milotic

ok this sounded so so interesting to me that i wanted to give it a try to see what it could look like... ... ...i love him

more strawheart alliance shenanigans

Friends don’t do what we do

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Authors note: this is my first time ever doing something like this, I’m not a writer by conventional means but I could not leave you all hanging after blowing up my blurb

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“That’s a nice jacket.” Your greedy gaze takes in the leather comfortably draping his body.

He eyes you carefully, “Thanks.”

“You got candy in there?” You grin up at him.

“Sweetheart, ask for what you really want.” You hate the way he’s able to coax you into yourself, grounding you with the idea that he’s not like eveyone else. He doesn’t flinch at your forwardness.

“Can I…explore your pockets a bit..?”

You aren’t snoopy by nature (yes you are) , but the desire to more about him drew you into asking this absurd question.

He leans closer to you on the couch, offering his pocket. He carefully takes in the details of your face. You’d wilt under anyone else’s scrutiny, but his attention lacks judgment.

Tentatively you reach in.

He feels your hand digging around. This is the only way he can stomach letting you touch him, between a layer of thick fabric…it feels nice.

“Massive pockets. You carry your bike in here?”

Your heart leaps at the way his laugh softens his voice, “Yeah sweets sometimes I put ‘er in there.”

Your hand wraps around cool metal, heavy in your palm as you lift it into the light of the room.

A pocket knife.

“Oh.” Your eyes gleam dangerously, “You stab someone with this before?” You pop open the blade, checking for blood, before he gently confiscates it, clicking it closed.

“A stab from this’d be a paper cut.” He lifts it away from your reaching hands.

“Then what do you have it for?” He gives you a wry smile, “Has no one taught you anything about—” he pulls his hand away as you reach for it, “—survival?”

“Mmm…not really, no.” You quip. Whether or not it’s sarcasm, he mentally adds to the list of things he needs to teach you.

You reach in again, pulling out a folded piece of paper, you carefully un-crumple it, glancing up at him briefly, waiting to see if he stops you. He only holds your gaze. “Nothing juicy huh?” Your eyes scan a grocery list.

Oh Ho Ho. “Pomegranates?”

“They’re in season…” he murmurs as you read on.

“You put C4 on your grocery list?”

His brows scrunch confusedly, your gasp interrupts his rebuttal, “Chloroform?!” He rips the paper out of your hands, and double checks the list. Bread, chips, peanut butter, mozzarella, eggs, etc.

He sighs, “You don’t buy chloroform at the grocery store, you make it.”

“How?” He gives you a disapproving look, you return it with a grin of your own as you reach in again.

“Shiny…” The three bullets are weighty, all smooth, and cold in your palm.

You let him confiscate those, reveling in his gentleness, and the contrast of his warm, rough fingers. His nearly somber expression catches you off guard, like a cold breeze through a sweater meant to keep you warm. The bullets are a heavier weight, in his hand.

“You’re worse than a crow.” He mutters.

You reach in again, “…my hair tie.”

“Mh.” His noncommittal answer soothes your poorly concealed nerves. What needn’t be said, or brought to the light; whatever this was between you.

He confiscates yet another item from your palm, pulling it on his wrist. “This is mine too.”

Head of Hair (Jotaro x Reader)

“Jotaro!”

“What?”

“I could use a little help here!”

Jotaro sighed. You and him were getting ready to go out for dinner, and he had been ready just a few minutes ago. He hoisted himself up from his comfy spot on the couch, and dragged himself over to the bathroom. When he got there, he took one look in the mirror, and saw that you were trying to tame your head of hair, your curly, frizzy hair.

“What do you need my help for? Jotaro asked. “I don’t know anything about caring for curly hair.”

“I’m not asking for you to know anything, just do what I say and we can calm my hair down together!” you replied.

Jotaro sighed, but fully entered the bathroom and started rummaging through the baskets. “Where’s your brush?”

“I don’t have any,” you said. “Curly hair is better brushed with your fingers.”

“So then what do you need me to do?”

“I want you to brush my hair while I get my products ready!”

Jotaro hesitated for a moment, but eventually walked over, running his fingers through your hair. If he was honest, he kind of liked the feeling, and he wasn’t having as bad of a time as he thought he would. Brushing your hair was actually soothing, seemingly clearing Jotaro’s mind. Suddenly, just as he was zoned out, you said to him again, “Alright, thank you! I can take it from here.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Jotaro asked.

“Yup!” you chirped. You looked back to him, and noticed his hands still in the air, as if there was an invisible barrier keeping them from touching your hair again. You smiled at him, letting out a laugh. “Of course, if you want to keep petting my hair, you can.”

Jotaro’s cheeks became a little pinker. “Y… yeah, I’d like that.” His hands slowly made their way back to your head, but just before they made contact again, you leaned forward, keeping your hair out of reach.

“After I get it ready to go,” you said.

“Right,” Jotaro mumbled. “After.”

I started making this earlier but got distracted and forgot but this was the first thing that popped up in my mind LMAO. Killer is not paid enough to deal with this poor guy

Opposites of Attraction, Chapter 2

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other chapter

Thank you to @nocturnalrorobin and @limitlesstildil for beta-ing this work!!

Your POV

“ - and so this Squirt is comin’ on board. Any problems and I’ll dump her overboard,” Kid yelled out to the assembled crew. He’d finally released you from his arm and demagnetized your lips now that the ship was sailing on the open water.

“No you won’t,” you said with disinterest, looking around at the ship past the assembled crew. You were familiar with some of them from wanted posters - Wire, Heat, Quincy, Emma, as well as some others you thought you recognized but weren’t sure. 

“Heh, don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. I’m the Captain here -”

“You gave yourself the nickname ‘Captain,’ doesn’t make you one,” you said dryly, now walking away from Kid and towards the mast for further inspection. Kid went red up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s not a nickname you fuckin’ bitch! This is my ship-”

“Then why’s it in quotes on your wanted posters and no one else's? Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid?” you smirked at him, making air quotes. You weren’t looking at him anymore though, you were more interested with the metal on the ship. You reached out to touch the steel-plated mast. Shitty quality , you thought to yourself. Now Kid’s chest was red too. You wondered if you could turn him red from the top of his ears down to his feet. Maybe he’d run out of blood before then and die - it was a theory you’d like to test.

“Besides, you can’t throw me overboard. I would fuck your shit up before you got the chance,” you said, now touching the shitty iron. Damn, what did they pry this off of? A kid's sandbox?

“Yeah, and how? I control -” 

“You control magnets but I control the metal,” you said with a grin, flipping him off with one hand. Still touching the metal on the mast, you added significantly more (and better quality) steel to what was already there. You used your power and a little creativity to shape it into a giant sized hand giving Kid the middle finger.

“Good likeness,” Killer said, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks Killer! I’m okay with sculptures, but -”

“You like it so much, you can fuckin’ stay there!” Kid yelled, probably annoyed he was already forgotten due to your awesome statue. Without warning you were jerked backward so the entirety of your body was stuck against the mast. You hit the mast hard, the air pushed out of your lungs with the unexpected movement. Kid stormed off to another area of the ship, boots stomping all the way. You rolled your eyes and molded the steel you’d added back around the mast, giving yourself a metal chair to be magnetized to. You couldn’t leave the mast but you could make it nicer for yourself. The crew broke apart to go back to work but a few came up to you as you stayed put. You watched Quincy stand up from the crate she was sitting on and hold onto it for a few moments while bent over before she righted herself. You’d always liked the looks of her from her posters but unfortunately, she left and the Commanders came over.

“You’re Wire, right?” you asked, looking the tall man up and down as he came to introduce himself.

“You know that’s right. You heard about me, Babe?” he said, leaning over you onto his forearm and giving you a wink. Did that actually work on anyone?

“Smallest dick on the seas, that’s what they say,” you deadpanned as the Commander’s face soured. Killer and another Commander laughed heartily as Wire gave you a scowl and stomped away, much like his Captain. You weren’t sure how they’d made it this long with such fragile egos - you’d make it your personal mission to deflate them.

“I’m Heat, nice to meet you,” the blue-haired man said to you, extending his hand.

“Nice to make your acquaintance but your fuckface of a Captain magnetized my hands to the mast so I can’t shake your hand,” you said with an overly saccharine tone. 

“Ah, right. Well, I’ll see you around I guess?” Heat said, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

“I’ll be here until he gets the stick out of his ass, which seems like it may never happen. Feel free to stop by,” you replied. You hoped Kid remembered to give you water to drink otherwise you’d die on his stupid ass fish ship. 

Kid’s POV

Kid was burning off steam in his workshop, welding tiny pieces of metal together to make a metal hawk. He'd felt the iron you created - it was better than almost all of the stuff on board. Creating was a great way to relieve Kid’s stress - after he’d already used the axe-throwing room and decimated the wooden target board. Kid wasn’t one to doubt his decisions but you were already a huge pain in his ass. You hadn’t been on the ship for 12 hours and he wanted to throttle you. Who the fuck did you think you were, flipping him off with his own ship? Talkin’ to him like he was some street rat in front of his crew? He didn’t like your attitude and the more he thought about your interactions, the angrier he became. He was the Captain, you worked for him, that’s all there was to it. You thought you were some tough, hot shit mercenary but Kid knew better. He’d break you and you’d regret ever fucking with him.

Killer popped his head in the workshop, the only person who could do so and keep it attached to their body.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, hiking his thumb backward to indicate the galley. Kid put down his welding equipment, ready to destroy some food. The delicious smell wafting in from the kitchen told him it was spaghetti and meatballs, Killer’s favorite dish. A passing thought came to him as he stood up from his workbench.

“Make a plate for our guest,” he ordered, his painted mouth splitting his face wide. 

A few minutes later, after Killer prepared and gave the Captain what he asked for, Kid sauntered up to the main deck. Of course, you were exactly where he’d left you, though you’d molded yourself some kind of chair to sit on. Clever. Kid felt a raindrop on his skin - looked like a cloudy night.

“Did you finally remember humans need food and water to survive?” you mouthed off to him. Even with your high and mighty attitude, you were exactly where he left you, unable to move. Really you should be thanking him for his mercy in allowing you to open your mouth and eyelids.

“Tch. You'll survive. Humans need water every what? 4 days?”

“Oh my fucking gods. No, humans die before then. Are you - who's the doctor on the ship?” You asked, trying to look around. Kid's eye twitched with your continued sass.

“You want this food or not?” Kid grunted, holding up the plate of spaghetti while ignoring your question. You narrowed your eyes at the food but your stomach gave off a loud grumble.

“I could eat,” you said offhandedly. Kid laughed.

“Then beg me for it,” Kid sneered. Your mouth set in a way that told him your answer before you said it.

“I'd rather eat shit, Eustass,” the venom in your tone was belied by the continued growling of your stomach.

“Ah well, that's too bad,” Kid said with false sincerity. He pulled the plate back and used the fork to twirl a large amount of spaghetti onto it. Your mouth dropped open as Kid shoved it all into his own. He felt a few more raindrops on his skin but paid it no mind.

“If you feel like eating, or yanno, leaving the mast again slurp , you know what to do,” Kid said with an exaggerated shrug, already turned away with the food in his hands. You didn’t say anything but he did smile as he repulsed a wave of iron coming at him back to you. 

Your POV

It was a bitterly cold night at sea, something you were well used to. One of the many perks of being a Logia fruit user was that you didn’t feel differences in temperature as you could always turn into your iron form. Sure, it was less comfortable to stay as a solid piece of iron than laying in a bed but the benefit of being able to sleep literally anywhere outweighed a night spent with a fluffy pillow. You hadn’t lost a wink of sleep since the day you’d eaten your fruit.

Except when you were completely wet.  

And you were right now due to the raging rainstorm outside. You weren’t able to use your powers anymore and you felt like complete shit but lucky for you whatever intrinsic nature your devil fruit had given you left you still magnetized to the mast. So you were freezing to death and couldn’t make yourself immune to the cold, but also couldn’t move from where Fuckstass had left you. Your teeth were chattering together and you had lost sensation in your toes and fingers as the rain pounded you relentlessly.

The clothes you wore weren’t waterproof or meant for the cold - you had long stopped buying clothes and made your own out of finely woven iron mesh. From afar it was indistinguishable from other textiles but had the additional benefit of providing some protection against attacks. It was not, however, meant to get wet and cold and stick to your freezing body like a second skin. You were hungry, tired, wet, losing the will to live, and freezing.

If the Captain was trying to kill you, he was doing a passable job. If the rainstorm kept up and you caught a severe enough cold, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that you could die. It figured, you led a life as an infamous mercenary and what would take you out was being left out in the rain. You closed your eyes, trying to gather up the scraps of your will that remained. You had come to terms with the fact that water took away your power and ability to swim but the loss of will to live always upset you the most. Shivering as the wind whipped your hair into your face, you tried to steel yourself for the rest of the night. Morning would eventually come and hopefully, the rain would abate soon.

Kid POV

Kid was feeling a little better now that he’d tormented you over dinner. He wasn’t planning on starving you to death, he wanted your abilities for his own gain. He had touched the kind of iron you made for yourself and it was higher quality even than the steel he used for his arm. So luckily for you, he’d give you food and water or whatever after you dropped your bratty attitude. He was absorbed in making the feathers for the hawk when he felt Killer’s gaze at his back. 

“What,” Kid said, not breaking eye contact with his project.

“ ‘S raining hard out there. Coupla hours now,” Killer said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, buckets. Cold as shit too. No big storm though. Need me on deck?” Kid was unsure where Killer was going with this but Killer never interrupted without reason.

“Squirt’s still stuck to the mast,” Killer said with a shrug.

“Fuckin’ dammit, ” Kid yelled, slamming down his blow torch onto the table. He picked up what Killer was saying - you wouldn’t be able to turn into iron and avoid the cold with all the water but also couldn’t leave where he’d put you. Killer moved out of the way as Kid stomped back up to the deck, his coat billowing behind him. 

Of course, you were right where he left you. You were huddled up as much as you could, shaking uncontrollably. You were wet and shivering and your skin looked blue - Kid almost felt bad for you. You deserved it for pissing him off too much but it was probably not good, he ultimately decided. Grunting, he demagnetized you and removed his red coat as he moved onto the deck. Walking into the rain made him feel shitty in seconds, you probably felt worse.

Kid stormed up to you, wrapped you in his coat and picked you up off the deck, carrying you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest or even say anything back to him, just hung off his shoulder like a sack of grain as water fell off you in rivulets. Killer was watching from the doorway as Kid brought you inside the ship.

“Needs a warm bath, she got too cold,” Killer supplied. Kid growled and gnashed his teeth but stomped his way over to his quarters. There was hot water in the shared bathroom but someone was already in there and you needed the bath now. Easier and faster to just get it done in his own room. He set you down on the floor, his coat now just as wet as you were. Another fucking annoyance he’d have to deal with later. After turning on the spigots in his bathroom, Kid faced you. You weren’t magnetized or anything but you weren’t moving either.

“Strip,” Kid commanded, already reaching to remove his coat from your body.

“Hh- nn-no?” you answered, your tone making it seem more like a question. You were really out of it, Kid thought. He didn’t bother asking again, just started ripping off your clothes. Normally clothes shredded without him even trying but these had a little more strength to them. Holding up one of your socks, he realized it was made of steel so fine it looked like gossamer.

“The fuck…is this chainmail?” Kid grumbled as he tore the steel. He set your clothes aside, he wanted to smelt them down later. Maybe you were worth the trouble, this was good shit.

“ ‘S not chainmail, just mesh,” you mumbled, kicking off your pants. Kid was secretly pleased you weren’t protesting him taking off your clothes. He wasn’t shy about being naked and preferred when others weren’t either. His crew had seen each other naked so many times it was almost surprising when all of them were clothed. Between the two of you, you were naked in a matter of seconds. Kid picked you up around the middle with his flesh hand, noting how light you were when you weren’t being a brat and turning yourself to metal. Kid did try to not stare at your naked body but it was challenging. Your tits were just the right size and he wanted to sink his teeth into your thighs. Kid dumped you into the bath and you hissed at the sensation, recoiling from the water. Kid rolled his eyes but didn’t remark on your pain.

“Get warm then come out,” Kid grunted, leaving his towel on top of the counter for you. Your teeth were still chattering and your body was wracked with chills as he turned to leave the bathroom. You started to lean over towards the side of the tub and Kid had to move quickly to right you again. Water overload maybe - you’d been in the rain and now the bath. Too much water wouldn’t kill you but it wouldn’t feel great either. Killer would be mad if Kid left you in the bath alone since it was maybe Kid’s fault you were in this position to begin with.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Kid huffed as he used his hands to pour the tepid water over your back and head. You still weren’t talking and your eyes kept sliding shut. After a few moments, your head dropped down to your chest as you nodded out. 

“Alright, s’enough of that,” Kid said, picking you up. Getting you warm from the bath didn’t seem to be helping, you were ragdolling as he wrapped you in his oversized towel and carried you to the bed.

“You really couldn’t be more fuckin’ irritating,” Kid said while setting you on the bed. He dried you off roughly, ignoring the way the moving towel had your tits jiggling under his hand. Drying you off quickly, he grabbed one of his shirts off the floor. It was clean enough, it wasn’t like you had open wounds or anything and would mind the oil. 

“Put this on Squirt,” Kid ordered, throwing it at you. You blinked but caught it with a hand, starting to dress yourself robotically. Kid frowned, what the fuck was wrong with you? He’d given you a bath and dried you off, weren’t you better now?

“Can make my clothes,” you muttered, lifting up your hand. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare. Do that shit tomorrow. Put my shirt on pipsqueak,” Kid yelled at you. You looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there.

“You still cold?” Kid asked, hanging up his soaking jacket on the coat rack.

“Yeah,” you said, hugging your knees with a yawn. “When the rain goes away I’ll go back outside,” you mumbled into your legs. A soft knock at the door told Kid Killer had stopped by. Opening the door, Kid saw Killer with a steaming mug of tea and a warm plate of food left over from dinner. 

“For Squirt,” Killer said pointedly. Kid rolled his eyes. He ate Mosh’s food once like a year ago and Killer never let him forget it. 

“Gave ‘er a bath. She’s being weird,” Kid huffed to Killer.

“Hypothermia, dummy. ‘S makin’ me tired and groggy and can’t kick your ass right now,” Kid heard you grouse from the bed. 

“Looks like she’s doing better,” Killer said, nodding along with your assessment. “She’s gonna crash soon. Needs a warm place and lotsa blankets to sleep under. Want me to take her to the ladies?” Killer offered, handing the food and mug over to Kid. When the ship was first built, the whole crew lived together in the bunks below deck but Emma and Quincy quickly demanded their own space. They said the men were gross, smelly, and snored too loud which wasn’t far from the truth. So Kid repurposed a stock room into the women’s quarters and they’d made the place much nicer than the men’s. Looking over, he saw you’d curled up in his bed and were already asleep under his heavy blanket. 

“Lemme know,” Killer offered before he sauntered away like the instigator he was. Kid huffed and set the food down on his nightstand. 

“Drink the tea, brat,” Kid said, shaking you with his metal arm. You groaned and rolled over, wrapping yourself up further in his blankets. You looked kind of…pathetic. Kid was sure that come the morning your sass would be back and you’d be spewing all kinds of nonsense but even he wasn’t completely heartless. Shoving you over to the side of his bed, Kid kicked off his boots and laid down next to you on the bed.

“Don’t get used to it Squirt. Tomorrow you’re back in the dog house,” Kid groused at your sleeping form. You exhaled sharply through your nose, annoyed with him even in your sleep. The feeling was mutual, Kid thought as he detached his metal arm and set it on the floor by his bed. He could sleep with it on but it wasn’t very comfortable and his stump appreciated the relief. 

He yanked some covers away from you but not that much. Kid ran warm all the time and even though it was freezing outside, tonight was no exception. He leaned back against his pillows, shoving his hand behind his head. He was pondering what the fuck he was going to do with you when he felt you roll into his side. 

“Oi, Squirt. What’re you up to?” Kid said quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep. Even though you were annoying as fuck, he didn’t like seeing you so out of it. He wanted you to be back to your bratty, sassy, irritating self so if you needed sleep, he’d let you have it. 

“Warm,” was all you said as you buried your cold nose into his side and frozen feet on his legs.

“Oi! Warn me before you do that again, what’re you made of ice?” 

“Not gonna happen yawn again. Just tonight. You tried to kill me s’os it’s ok,” you said into his side. You were wrapping yourself around him and it didn’t escape Kid’s notice that your unbound tits were pressed against him. He reacted as anyone else would - he got hard. 

“Didn’t try to kill you,” Kid muttered. 

“Did,” you replied, your arms wrapping around him. Kid was about to retort again but you sighed in contentment as you heated your body with his own. Whatever. Having a sexy (but pesky) woman cuddling up to him wasn’t the worst way he’d gone to bed, he thought as he fell asleep, willing his cock to do the same.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

Dadzawa commission

You Don't Need to Try to Belong

Sorry if the tone near the end doesn't quite match the rest of the fic something happened in the middle of me writing it and like all good writers do I used this as an emotional outlet. But hey, who doesn't want Marco to hold them amirite? This was meant to be shorter, but the rest of the crew hijacked it like the pirates they were.

Phoenix Marco x Reader (fluff, near-death experiences, dash of sickfic & hurt/comfort)

As the unofficial ‘Fixer-Upper’, the jack-of-all-trades of the Whiteboard Pirates with a helpful Devil Fruit to boot, you tend to overwork yourself helping any issues that arises. Sometimes at the detriment of your own health.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing the sun rise over the horizon from your vantage point up in the Moby’s crow’s nest. 

The gentle blush of pink peeking over the horizon, watercolor-soft as the veil of the night pulled back. Blackness faded away to reveal the glittering waves of the ocean stretched seemingly infinitely all around you. It was a freedom given to you by the Whitebeard Pirates, one you could never repay.

Sunrise also had the added bonus of signifying the end of your lookout ship, the promise of your bed waiting for you.

Below you, on the deck, the morning bell rang out, signifying the official end of the night shift’s work. The hubbub of the ship coming to life stirred up as you climbed down the mast, seeing the specks of the other lookouts doing the same at the other crow’s nests. A few members glanced your way as your feet hit the deck, and you returned the greetings thrown at you, albeit with slightly less energy.

Your stomach growled as the aroma of food from the galley drifted over when you entered the halls. However, you didn’t join the others for breakfast like normal and instead went deeper into the Moby’s bowels to where the crew’s quarters were. You’d been bothered by a persistent headache all night, and you knew that going into the noisy mess hall would no doubt make it worse.

The shared cabin was thankfully empty for the most part, and you made it over to your hammock before collapsing into it and tugging the blanket up to your chin before blacking out, looking forward to the long, uninterrupted rest you’d get.

“WAKE UP!”

You grunted in pain as you were upended from your hammock, bedding and all falling down with you. Blearily, you sat up and squinted at the pair of legs in front of you, smacking your dry lips. You didn’t know how long it was since you’d fallen asleep, but you knew it was not long enough.

A freckled face and messy black hair invaded your vision, the inquisitive expression of one Portgas D. Ace showing who exactly it was that woke you up.

“Hey! Got a moment?”

Even though it was phrased as a question, you still found yourself forcibly dragged to your feet, his grip on your wrist the sole thing that kept you moving as you stumbled through the halls and out into the deck. Sunlight pierced your half-closed eyes, and you winced, squeezing them shut as you trusted Ace not to run you both into something. You two finally paused and you cracked your eyes open to show that you’d stopped in front of Striker, in all her dripping glory as she hung hoisted up over the deck.

Ace finally released your wrist, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to drag ya all the to fix up the Striker for me? I’d ask Blenheim, but he’s with the other fleet right now.”

At the request of a fixing, you forcefully shook off your sleepiness. Tiredness still lingered, and that damn headache still nipped at your temple, but you pushed it all back. Alert eyes assessed the damage in front of you as you tuned into Ace’s chattering.

“I got cornered by a few small Marine scout boats and had to take the Striker through some sorta reef. Thought I got through it fine, but I guess the coral—”

A sudden thud.

You paused in your observation to haul Ace out of the way of the crew and lay him out straight before returning to the Striker. True to his word, the bottom of Striker’s hull was deeply scratched when you bent down to take a look at it. The wood was gouged in a few points, areas where leaks would’ve no doubt let in water. It was a miracle Ace made it back. You hummed at the thought, making a note to get Pops to talk with the young man about his recklessness.

The Striker swayed gently from the lines holding her up as you pushed gently, tilting your head to catch the sound of sloshing water in her bowels. It wouldn’t do to mend everything only to have her rot from the inside out by trapped moisture. When nothing came back, you nodded approvingly and crouched down, hand reaching up to touch the largest of the holes. There was a dim glow before the wood seemed to seal up wherever you dragged your fingers over it, returning to its previous pristine state. You did the same for the others, each spark and glow only tugging at the tiredness in your bones. It was light work, but you were still exhausted by the time you finished, opting to take a seat by Ace where he lay. You were only beginning to blink off into sleep when the young man sat back up.

“—scratched ‘er up real bad and—Oh.”

Ace blinked at the newly repaired full before turning to you, sending a thousand-kilowatt smile your way.

“F’xed it,” you mumbled, shooting him a thumbs up. Your head tilted to the side and you dozed off. While your Devil Fruit, the Mend Mend Fruit was extremely useful, it did take a toll on you.

Strong arms once again wretched you to your feet, and you squawked as Ace bodily hauled you off, cheerful as ever.

“Thanks so much! Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’’”

You went limp in the newly minted commander’s hold, resigning yourself to your fate as he dragged you along to the mess. There were a few others there who were the stragglers from lunchtime.

Ace shifted you to drape over his shoulder like a sack as he assembled a plate for the two of you. The world flipped around as he set you down at a table, and you murmured your thanks, dragging heavy limbs to your utensils to force a few bites down.

A call of your name and a harried-looking Thatch halted right by your table, relief on his face. “There you are. Glad I could catch you. Think you can get that pipe done for us now?”

Your eyes widened as you straightened. Right. You were supposed to have stopped by this morning after breakfast to help fix up the leak in the piping that the division didn’t have the supplies to replace. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Thatch.”

Shooting to your feet, you pushed your plate to Ace and quickly set towards the galley, Thatch on your tail. The Fourth Division greeted you, wrapping up post-meal duties as they avoided one particular section in specific. Someone already peeled away the wooden boards to expose the problematic pipe, and rags were stuffed along the spaces in the wall and sprawled on the floor. As you approached, you noticed that there was something on the pipe. You squinted at the stain and sniffed.

“Is this–Is this dried molasses?!?” 

Thatch whistled and adverted his eyes under your scrutinizing stare. “We had to make do.”

You exhaled despairingly, pressing your fingers into the sticky mess. It was concerning how often you all ran short on miscellaneous supplies, despite being an Emperor’s crew. A glow sparked up, and you sealed the gap.

The sticky, dark substance stuck to your fingers as you withdrew them, and your stomach suddenly churned. Rushing to an empty sink, you quickly washed it off as you called back, “I’m not cleaning that.”

“Fair,” Thatch said. He withdrew a rag from his chef apron. “Thanks for this.”

You hummed as you exited the galley.

Somehow, those two actions seemed to unleash a catalyst upon your peace. The promise of rest seemed further and further away as you were directed all over the ship, fixing this odd thing or that odd part. Your headache never went away, only getting worse as nausea was added to the list.

Skull called out his thanks as you bolted away from him, clapping a hand over your mouth as you beelined for the railing. You made it just in time to empty your stomach over the side. The only food in your stomach—the meager bits you managed to shovel down before Thatch interrupted—splashed sadly into the water.

Shivering, you closed your eyes to block out the sight of the swaying waters below you. The railing dug into your stomach as you slumped down into it. Everything felt hot and cold at once, and you admitted to yourself that maybe it was time to lie down. No more using your Devil Fruit for today.

As you were straightening up, a scuffle broke out from behind you. It was two recruits, roughhousing or fighting, you couldn’t care either way. But before you could move, one of them stumbled and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as your grip slipped, and because of the way you were leaning over the railing, you felt gravity tugging you to the wrong side as you pitched overboard.

Your wide eyes were fixed on the spot where you just were, too stunned to make a peep. There was a shout of alarm on board.

It was never fun falling from the Moby Dick. Its massive size meant nothing less than a painful impact, and even a few broken bones if you were unlucky.

But you wouldn’t call yourself lucky either way if you fell over the Moby in the first place.

You slammed into the waves.

The first thing that hit you was the pain. Like crashing into solid brick, your back ached from bearing the brunt of the impact. Then the insidious cold seeped in, past your clothes, past your skin, until everything went numb. Bubbles swirled past you in a dizzying spectacle, and it would’ve been pretty if not for the death grip of the weight pulling down on your limbs.

Motes of bubbles passed your lips, but you had the foresight to not open your mouth, to not breathe. But that was all you could do as you sunk deeper, black edging into your vision.

They always said that drowning was a horrible way to go, the choking of water in your lungs. But to you, it felt soft. Like the welcoming of the tiredness you’d carried around all day.

It’s so easy,

Your eyes fluttered, lips cracking open, allowing the saltwater to rush in.

You could get the rest you wanted.

You didn’t feel the arms clamping around your waist to drag you upward.

But you did notice as the two of you breached the surface, water spewing out of your mouth as you coughed. It burned going up, and you clung limply to the form you now identified to be Rakuyo as he stretched up his other arm. “Bring us up!”

He crushed you to his chest as the two of you shot up from the water, hauled up by his living flail. You both landed on the deck again, him on his feet while you were still in his hold. However, that quickly changed as your body spasmed.

“Woah there!” The man exclaimed, quickly crouching down so you wouldn’t meet a second painful impact if you spilled out of his arms.

“Someone grab Marco!”

Quickly, you were set on your side. Just in time as you retched. More seawater (seriously you don’t know how you swallowed so much) came up, through your nose, through your mouth. Warm hands rubbed your back as you gathered the strength to prop yourself up, as the spasms continued. It would’ve been mortifying to have the crew see you like this if you hadn’t seen these same full-grown men projectile vomit their dinner after a few too many drinks. As of right now, you were busy trying not to feel like death warmed over. Someone’s oversized sash fell around your shoulders as they used it to dry you off of the cold water.

“What’s going on, yoi?”

Marco’s voice was like a balm to your raw nerves as indistinct voices murmured over your head. Someone draped something soft over you (a towel?) and you sneezed.

Like the world’s most pathetic, bedraggled, wet cat, you were picked up from underneath your arms and passed over to warmer ones.

“H-Hol’ on,” you slurred, getting wrapped up in the fabric around your shoulders. Your head lolled against a warm chest. “Might throw—throw up.”

Marco shushed you. “Don’t worry about it, yoi.”

Blue and gold flames fluttered to life around you, your aches and coldness fading away. However, you still felt that bone-deep tiredness, and your lungs still rattled wetly. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary. We have to monitor your lungs, just in case.”

Aw, man. You hated to be a bother.

Weakly wriggling in his grip, you voiced your protests, “‘M fine. L-Lemme jus’ go sleep it off.”

“You can rest in the infirmary. I healed your superficial injuries, but I can’t fix the drain your Devil Fruit already pulled from you or expel any potential water. Don’t fight me on this, yoi.”

You let out an unintelligible noise, sagging deeper into his hold. The hubbub of the ship fell away into muffled peace as he entered the infirmary, greeting the nurses there.

“Goodness! What happened?” Lisa asked as she pulled out more towels and a pair of spare clothes.

“We had a tumble off the deck,” Marco said, setting you down on a bed in the corner and stepping back for the nurse to let her set the clothes down by your side. He grabbed the privacy curtain, readying to pull it close as he asked you, “Think you can get changed, yoi? Lisa or another nurse can assist if you think you’ll need help.”

You looked down at your shaking hands, then to the set of folded clothes beside you. It was a simple enough shirt and pants, nondescript for their versatility. “I’ll be f-f-f-fine.”

The shiver that broke your words into a stutter wasn’t convincing, but Marco didn’t push it as he pulled the curtains closed around you to give you a bit of privacy. His voice came from the other side, “Let me know when you’re done, yoi.”

It took you much longer than you’d like to admit, wrangling yourself into the change of clothes, but just when Marco began shuffling on the other side of the curtain, you managed to pull the collar of the shirt over your head with your stiff limb and wrapped your hair in a towel.

“I’m d-do-done.”

The curtains were pulled open again and Marco stepped through. In the span of time it took for you to change, the man had collected equipment of his own. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and he carried a blanket rolled up under an arm and a thermometer.

“Just a precaution, yoi,” he said when he saw you eyeing his getup. You took the blanket when he handed it to you. The back of his hand came up to rest on your forehead and he hummed as he began putting on his stethoscope. “I want to listen to your lungs and keep you here to rest up.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you tilted your head back, staying still as Marco pressed the cold metal of the chest piece into your skin, expression calm as he focused on your breathing. After a few moments, he pulled away and tugged off the instrument.

“Your breathing sounds alright from what I could tell, yoi. But your temperature’s a little out of its normal range. How are you feeling, yoi?”

With the assessment done, you pulled away and curled up on the bed, tugging the blanket up. “Blegh, fine. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“You do that, yoi,” Marco said, patting your shoulder. “I’ll watch over you.”

Letting out a huff, you allowed the lull of sleep to finally pull you under.

***

Warm hands on your forehead and cheek stirred you from the fretful slumber you were in, and you murmured, trying to pull away from the disturbance. Your breath whistled when you sighed, nose closed by a painful pressure and the rattle when you breathed seemed more prominent than ever.

There was a quiet tut before they came back with greater insistence, pulling you into a sitting position. You resisted, but your limbs felt leaden when you tried to lift them up. A slow, pounding pain pulsed in your temples on top of that, intensifying when you cracked your eyes open. You squeezed them shut again, but that peek was enough to see the slight chastisement on Marco’s expression as you identified him to be the one taking care of you.

His voice was low, kept to a manageable level that wouldn’t upset your head as he said, “Looks like you’re getting a fever, yoi. That’s strange.”

Blue flickered through your closed eyes as a gentle wash of his flames coursed through you. The pounding in your head lessened

“Tried my best to alleviate some of your symptoms, but since most of them aren’t physical injuries, I don’t think helped much.”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, blinking the crustiness from your eyes as you sat up. “Thanks for tryin’”

He hummed, pulling away. “What I’m surprised about is that you’re getting so sick from a dip in the waters. As far as I’m aware, the waters in this part of the Grand Line should be temperate enough to avoid that issue, yoi. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion flashing in his gaze as he picked up on your guilty air. “You were on deck at a time where you would usually be asleep, yoi. Why weren’t you resting?” 

“Listen,” you began. “You’re not allowed to scold anybody involved in it…”

Marco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I already know who it is, yoi?”

“Ace took me out to help fix Striker,” you agreed, ignoring Marco’s muttered ‘I knew it’. “Then we swung by the galley where there was something I forgot to fix for Thatch. Some of the crew caught me about, and it kind of escalated from there.”

The way the man tilted his head was distinctively avian. “Now, why would you do that, yoi? We’ve discussed using your Devil Fruit when you’re tired.”

You pursed your lips and adverted your eyes, shrugging. “I dunno. I couldn’t just say no.”

His eyes softened. “You know… You’re deserving of rest when you’re tired. You don’t need to bend over backward to please us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Unbidden, you felt tears spring up in your eyes, and you blamed it on the mess running through your system, pulling away so you could wipe them.

However, Marco’s hands came up to hold your face, thumb wiping away the bit of saltiness that spilled over your lashes.

“Silly love,” Marco murmured as he tugged you into his chest and enveloped you.

Pliantly allowing it to happen, your face ended up buried in his chest. His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he shifted to take a seat and pulled you into his lap. You sank deeper into him, instinctively relaxing at the soothing warmth he emitted.

“Nobody would think less of you for resting. There’s no payment to be on the crew beyond what you can safely provide. And you’ve done plenty, are doing plenty. Pops is not going to kick you out if you don’t repair Skull’s necklace or somebody’s sandals for the fiftieth time. You belong with us. We want you.”

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face. Marco’s chuckle jostled you a little bit, and the arm around your waist squeezed you, dragging you even closer to him. His flames flickered over you again, and you went boneless against him, hands dropping from your face. The ache in your chest that you didn’t even know you were carrying lightened with his presence.

“You just rest now, yoi. I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed, a trembling shaky thing. “Thank you, Marco.”

NAMI PHOTOCARD 🍊💰🐱

[ What's the next character that deserves a photocard in this style? I think I'll stick with casual clothes in this series (≧▽≦) ]

Shares are appreciated 💖

what if there is a dating sim(creature ver.)

writing fanfiction is just. i’m being so creative and original. i’m plagiarizing everyone by accident. i’m a genius. i’m cringe. i’m too angsty. i’m too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesn’t matter that it’s not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. i’m seeking validation. i’m projecting my own personal problems onto this story and i’m barely hiding it. i know so many words and i’m using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.