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rollinouttahere-writes · 2 months ago

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Breaking Point Chapter 3

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

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Summary: You're in the thick of it now. On a pirate ship surrounded by enemies and powerless against them. What will these bloodthirsty brutes do to you now that you're at their mercy?

Warning: mild suicidal ideation, mentions of drugging, cancer mention, trauma responses

Many questions race through your mind as Elise pushes you down the long hall of the Moby Dick. Namely: Why you? What did you do to deserve this fate? What would that fate even be?

One thing seems certain. You won't survive this. Of course you won't. You're completely defenseless around one of the most powerful pirate crews on the planet, and you're a marine. Well, a former marine, but you doubt they know or care about that fact.

Sweat is beading on your face and back as you sit in a petrified silence because even the heavy dose of sedatives you believe they have you on can only numb your mind so much. An inescapable sense of dread looms over you, getting heavier every second as you draw nearer to the door at the end of the hall.

Would Elise take you back to the infirmary if you pretended to faint? It might be worth a shot… Or maybe that would just make her double down on her alleged quest to get you fresh air. You're usually an enviable strategist, but your disordered and foggy thinking does nothing to bely that fact. You couldn't think your way out of a paper sack right now.

Thatch quickens his step to get to the door first. He looks completely relaxed and carefree about this funeral procession in disguise. Which you suppose makes sense. A marine's death is probably downright mundane to a pirate. You don't fault them for such a mentality. Admittedly, a pirate's death was just as unremarkable to you as a marine. It was a fact of war.

And now it was your turn to be a casualty of it.

The sunbeams that shine through after the door is opened momentarily blind you, which is equal parts relieving and distressing. You're spared the sight of what is to come, but your brain is left to fill in the blanks on its own, and it never shows you less than the worst case scenario.

Images of pirates lying in wait with their weapons at the ready flash through your mind. In your mind, they’d been given a covert heads-up that you were on route to your life’s terminus. This medical gurney would become your deathbed in a matter of seconds as they used your body as a pincushion for their weapons.

As your eyes adjusted to the light and made sense of their surroundings, you found yourself… very much not surrounded. Thatch was there, and you could assume Elise was still the one pushing you, but no one else was in your immediate vicinity.

That’s not to say that there weren’t any other pirates here, you could see many. But they were just casually milling about with no real sense of urgency. They haven’t seen you yet. Perhaps the assumption that they knew you were coming was off base. Certainly their behavior will change once they realize you’re here.

Elise hums as she pushes you over to the taffrail so you can have a scenic ocean view as you’re murdered. How considerate. Maybe they plan to simply toss you overboard and let your devil fruit status take the reigns in your demise?

Rather than taking in the sight, you scan the open deck of the ship. More specifically, you’re logging who all is here. Much to your mounting horror, you spot a majority of the division commanders. Diamond Jozu, Flintlock Pistol Izou, Vista of the Flower Swords, all of the heavy hitters of the Whitebeard’s are lurking nearby. Even Fire Fist Ace is here, and now you don’t have the means to counter his flames. You are so dead. You wouldn’t be able to fight your way out of here even if they removed the seastone cuffs.

Lastly, your eyes settle on the large and imposing figure of Whitebeard himself. You were well versed on who he was, any marine worth their salt was, but even still you were startled by the sheer size of him. His looming frame cast a wide shadow across the deck and all the way over to you, encompassing you fully.

Height aside, there was something else that struck you about him. There was talk of his failing health, but no one had clear answers on its severity. You never would have guessed it was this bad. The drip stand behind him had multiple IV bags hanging from it, several chest tubes were attached to him, and he even had a nasal cannula that you almost missed thanks to his mustache. What appeared to be an entire ward of nurses were hard at work around him.

Then the absolute worst thing happens. While you are blatantly gawking at Whitebeard, he turns his head and makes eye contact with you. You instinctively look away and press yourself back into the thin mattress of your gurney as if it will swallow you up and take you far away from here. It does not. Woe.

A rumbling laugh rolls off of the captain as he bears witness to your nonsensical actions. You sink back even more, but you can’t help but look his way again. He’s still looking at you, and he appears to be amused more than anything. It seems strange to you at first, but you suppose someone like yourself really doesn’t prompt a serious reaction from someone as powerful as him. You were nothing to him even in peak condition. Even in his poor health, you know better than to underestimate him.

His grin was relaxed as he regarded you. “So you’re finally awake,” he shifts and props his chin up on one hand, “and in better spirits, I hope?”

What the hell were you supposed to do with that? Answering felt ridiculous, but ignoring him felt downright stupid. Whitebeard wasn’t someone that you could just up and snub! That would be like telling Big Mom to piss off! Should you be honest and say that no, your spirits are in fact quite abysmal, or are you supposed to lie and say that you’re just peachy keen?! Oh, but now you’ve been silently staring at him for too long, you’re making it weird! In a frantic attempt to save face and not give him a reason to be angry at you, you nod your head up and down and blurt out an answer, “I-I’m fine, sir!”

Whitebeard’s eyebrows raise slightly, then he laughs again, this time much harder. Probably over the way your voice cracked, if you had to guess. You sounded like one of the fresh recruits rather than a seasoned marine. Akainu would never approve of you speaking in such a disgraceful manner.

“It’s been a while since someone called me that. You can drop the formalities, my child, this is a pirate ship.”

What did he just call you? Is he… belittling you? By using such a juvenile term to describe you, it certainly felt that way. Is this a joke to him? Are you a joke to him?

“Hey!” You're startled by the sudden proximity of a new voice. You break away from your staring contest with an Emperor and see that Fire Fist Ace is strolling on over to you. He flashes a relaxed, boyish grin your way and perches himself up on the railing next to you. “You're looking like you're feeling better. That's a relief.”

A relief? You fail to see how that would be “relieving” to anyone here. You eye the pirate suspiciously, trying to figure out what he's up to. He's seemingly trying to get you to lower your guard, though you have no idea why. Such a tactic is unnecessary when you're already physically restrained and weakened. As you size him up, you notice some bandages on his right hand.

Isn't he supposed to be a logia fruit user? Injuries shouldn't be a problem for him.

Ace follows your gaze to his hand. “Oh, you don't have to worry about that. It's not that bad, I'll be fine.” He lifts the hand up and flexes it open and shut as if to prove his statement.

His wording confuses you. Is he implying that you have a reason to be worried about that? Did you do that to him? Surely you didn't. Your zoan fruit would be largely ineffective in a physical attack against him, and you feel pretty confident in assuming that you didn't spontaneously develop Armament Haki and then forget about it.

Damn whatever medicine they gave you and the memory loss that came with it. This situation is bad enough as it stands. You don't need to heap confusion on top of it.

“So this is the marine you and Marco caught? I'll admit I was expecting a bit more… fury?” The flower swords wielder, Vista, had come up on your other side and was now bent down to examine you closely. “Come on, don't you have some threats to shout? Curses to hurl?”

Before your sluggish body can retreat back from having your personal space invaded, Elise pushes his face away with a huff and then swats at the hand he had placed on the sidebar of your gurney. She speaks sternly, reminding you of a mother scolding a child, “Don't antagonize them, I much prefer them like this to how they were. And watch where you're putting your hands, you almost snagged the IV line.”

Yet again, you were in awe of her fearlessness when confronting infamous pirates. Was she truly that brave, or was she somehow naive to how dangerous criminals like these people can be?

Vista, shockingly, immediately concedes and holds his hands up in a placating manner, “Sorry, Sorry! I'll be more careful next time, ‘lise!”

Elise rolls her eyes, but there's a playful lilt to her tone, “Yeah right, I'm sure I'll have to correct you again before my shift is over, flower boy.”

The way they conversed reminded you of what you'd hear amongst your platoon. A well earned rapport built up over months or even years of a kind of teamwork that can only be wrought from surviving life threatening situations together. Genuinely speaking, you'd never really thought about the fact that pirates would have such bonds. The treachery and the survival of the fittest mindsets that were so commonplace in piracy would surely sabotage such a relationship from forming, right?

Dwelling on this puzzling revelation isn't really an option for you, unfortunately. Not when more of Whitebeard's crew was encroaching on you.

No doubt, you were probably something of a roadside attraction to them. A (former) high ranking marine whose reputation was built around the fact that you were the child of Admiral Akainu, but now you were reduced to some aloof inpatient strapped to a bed. You suppose the way they stare at you isn't all that far off how you gawked at their captain. Both were sorry falls from grace- not that you would ever even think to dare to say that of Whitebeard. The drugs in your system were keeping you from being that suicidal.

Ace slipped down from the railing and propped an arm up on the top of your raised up gurney. As you turn your head to see what he's up to, his other arm darts out and tosses your blanket up over you so that it's covering your exposed arm.

For a moment, you're just vaguely confused. What was the point of that? Did he think- and moreover, care- that you were cold? You stare down at where the thin sheet is draped over your arm, hoping that answers will jump out at you given that you've been sorely lacking in them today. What about your arm was worth hiding?

Wait.

The scar.

He was covering up your burn for you. In typical fashion, you feel a distinct lack of clarity despite technically getting an answer. Everyone on this damned ship spoke nonsense, and their behavior was even more mystifying. What was his angle? What did he have to gain from helping you cover a scar before the whole crew could spot it? His expression belies no clear answer. He's looking away and acting like he didn't do anything.

More and more pirates were meandering over to you, which kept you from trying to press the Fire Fist for answers. Flintlock Pistol Izou was standing near the foot of the bed and looming over you with an intimidating presence as his eyes pierced into yours, seemingly looking for something that only he knows about.

His painted lips quirk into a half smile, “So what is it like to be on a pirate ship for the first time?”

The straps on your legs and the handcuff around one of your wrists are brought fully to your attention following his question. You make a display out of squirming uncomfortably against them, “A little restrictive, if I'm being honest.” Also terrifying, but you aren't about to vocalize that.

Some chuckles echo through the crowd you've amassed. Thatch shifts on his feet, then consults Elise, “It wouldn't hurt to let them walk around, would it?”

Elise sighs and looks conflicted, “It would be good for them to stretch their legs, but I was hoping to wait until Marco was back before we tried that.”

Hold on. Were they seriously considering it? Wow. You really aren't shit to them if they're fine with the idea of freeing you. It's a bit of a blow to your ego, frankly.

Vista interjects, “All of us are here, we can help keep an eye on them.” Elise makes a hum of continued uncertainty, so he tacks on, “Just let the kid walk around a bit, it’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Elise relents. “I'll go get a portable stand for the IV.” She fishes a key out of her pocket and hands it to Thatch before departing. Given that she was the closest thing you had to a safety net around these pirates, her absence was immediately felt. To an extent, you felt like she was keeping everyone else at bay, but now they were free to act however they want.

Thatch approaches you casually, coming off as entirely unconcerned about what you may or may not do upon release. His carefree attitude left you feeling enviable. You were anything but right now. Your eyes flit back and forth between the faces of everyone crowded around you. There had to be dozens of people circling you, not counting Whitebeard himself in the distance.

Yeah, it made sense why no one was worried about you harming anyone. You had no chance against anyone here, even one-on-one. The whole mob could easily tear you to shreds. Why they hadn’t already was beyond you. Maybe they wanted you free first for the sport of the hunt. Not that there would be much of a hunt. There was nothing in this world left for you to flee to. Laying down and dying was much more appealing than fighting a pointless battle.

The cuff that was locked around a bar on the bed clicks open. Thatch stares at the other one, looking considerably more uncertain about undoing that one. He gnaws at his lip for a moment, then sighs, “We should probably leave that one on until Marco’s here. Let me just…” He holds the cuff on your wrist, grabs the chain connecting it to the other, and then rips it clean off on the first try. “There we go. That should be more comfortable.”

For a few seconds, you just stare at him wide-eyed. That casual display of strength HAD to be an intimidation tactic. This was apparently absolutely nothing new to him, seeing as all that he did after casually ripping apart seastone cuffs was set to work on undoing the straps still holding down your legs.

This crew really was on a whole other level from anyone else. They’d earned the right to be a part of an Emperor’s army.

Once all of your limbs were free, he held out his hands to you, “Here, let me help you down.”

“No,” you recoil back and shake your head, “I can do that on my own.” Thatch holds his hands up and steps back to give you space, which surprises you, but you try not to dwell on it. You resituate the sheet so that it’s draped around you like a shawl and covering your arm. You’ll just say you’re cold if anyone asks. You slide off the gurney and onto your feet, then immediately start backing away from the crowd.

But Vista abruptly grabs your arm and pulls you back. Involuntarily, you flinch. Your shoulders jump up and your free arm raises into a defensive stance. Here it was. This was it. The pack was ready to tear you limb from limb for everything that you’d done as a marine.

“Whoa there.” His grip on your arm loosens, enough to be noticeable, but not enough for you to be able to pull away. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were going to rip your IV out if you kept going.”

Your… Oh. Dammit. You’re so stupid! In a sorry attempt to save face, you mutter out a quiet, “I wasn’t scared.” Ugh. That sounded fake even to you. The slight tremble in your voice was a dead giveaway. How pathetic. You get a little bit of drugs in your system and you’re reduced to a whimpering cowardly mess.

Vista hesitantly releases your arm, his hand hovering over it briefly to see if you’d try to move away again. You didn’t. He pats your shoulder before pulling away, “See? Everything is okay.”

It most certainly was not, but you don’t say as much. You’ve made enough of a fool of yourself. The last thing you needed was to keep running your mouth and start crying or something else humiliating like that. You pull the blanket around yourself tighter and stare down at your feet. There wasn’t much of a point in watching the people around you when there was nothing you could do about them. Whatever happens, happens.

A door opens nearby, and you can hear a set of footsteps and the sound of wheels rolling over the wooden flooring of the deck. Pink shoes come into your line of sight. Elise is back. The liquid inside the IV bag swishes softly as she moves it to the mobile stand, “There we go! How are you feeling? Are you lightheaded at all?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m fine.” You hazard a glance at Elise and see her smiling back at you. What was there to be so damned happy about?

Her smile persists despite your terse response, “That’s great! Now, what do you want to do?”

Huh? “What do I… want to do?”

“Yeah. Do you want to go for a walk? We could go to the kitchen and get you something to eat if you’re still hungry.” She stares at your mystified expression expectantly, but her smile starts to droop when all you do is continue to stare at her. “Or we could do something else if you want. What do you usually do for fun?”

“For fun? I was a marine, I didn’t have time for “fun”, don’t be ridiculous.” Your entire life has been training, sparring, and studying. Fun was for children, not soldiers.

Elise’s mouth hangs open in surprise, the smile finally gone. She shakes her head and steps closer to you, “Hey now, don’t say that! Come on, surely you had at least one hobby. Like something that you did to relax after a long day?”

“To relax after a long day? You mean sleeping?”

“No!” Elise pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs sharply, “No, I mean an activity, not something you have to do to survive. Something fun.” You just stare at her blankly, and her hands find purchase on her hips, “Give me an example. Tell me something that someone might do for fun. It can be anyone or anything.”

Why was she so hung up on this? You huff out a sigh and look down at the floor again. What was something “fun”? Well, one thing comes to mind. Memories of Akainu tending to his precious bonsai trees flash behind your eyes. “Does gardening count?”

“Yes! Do you like gardening?”

“No.” Your expression twists into a bitter scowl, “I do not.” You hated those damned trees. They were completely useless, yet Akainu treated them better than anything and anyone.

“O-Okay! Um, how about we try something new then?” It would seem the hatred within your words took her by surprise. It honestly surprised you a little, too. You never emoted this much.

Similarly, you were never this confused, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should give a new hobby a try. I think that would help you to feel much better.” Elise is smiling hopefully at you.

She really was bound and determined on this matter, wasn’t she? “What am I even supposed to do?”

Thatch steps forward, “A lot of people enjoy baking as a hobby. I could show you the ropes if you’ll let me.”

Izou speaks up next, “Tea preparation can be an artform in and of itself if you take it seriously enough. You could try that.”

Elise claps her hand together, “Oh, what about watercoloring? I would be more than happy to share my supplies with you!”

Everyone around you starts calling out random hobbies with enthusiasm. Sewing, reading, flower pressing, hiking, pottery, origami, fishing, the suggestions don’t end. This was completely and utterly baffling. It was entirely nonsensical. They should be killing you, or ransoming you at the very least. Why were they doing this?

What even was this? You didn’t have a word to describe their actions.

—

Teach sat away from the crowd. He had no desire to be around that cutthroat little shit. Last time he was this close to you, you damn near slit his throat open. His finger ghosts over the scar on his neck from where one of your talons cut him. Had you aimed just a little higher, his jugular would have been torn open.

What the fuck was Whitebeard thinking? His old age was definitely getting to him.

A quick glance up at the captain all but confirmed his thoughts. The old man was watching the spectacle with open bemusement. He’s definitely gone soft. An unsurprising development given his poor health. Anyone’s mind would begin deteriorating when cancer was eating them alive from the inside out.

“Are you really sure about this, old man?” He can’t help himself, he needs more insight on what’s running through that fool’s mind.

Whitebeard turns his head to look at him, “Am I sure about what?”

“That marine.”

“That child is no more a threat than any of the nurses on board.” Teach begged to differ on that front. The worst any of them had done to him was wrinkle their noses at him. “Besides, from what Marco told me about what they said after being captured, it sounds to me like they are a former marine.”

Does that make any difference? Once a marine, always a marine. Hating and killing pirates was in your blood.

A quiet, rumbling chuckle escapes Whitebeard, “Come now, don’t tell me you’re scared of the kid.”

“Me? Scared? Perish the thought!” Teach laughs and hopes that it sounds convincing. “I would just hate to see anyone get hurt because of them.”

His concern is waved off, “You worry too much, my son. They aren’t going to hurt anyone, I can tell. I’ve been around for a long time, I have become a good judge of character by this point.”

Teach chuckles at his words, “Yeah, you’re right, pops. Sorry I ever doubted you.” Good judge of character, his ass. What a stupid old fool.

“Pops!” One of the crew members not fawning over the marine hurries over to the captain. What was his name? Teach couldn’t be bothered to remember. There were far too many people crammed onto this ship for that.

“Yes, Colsman?” How the hell was Whitebeard able to keep track of all these names and the unremarkable faces attached to them? Ridiculous.

“You have a call coming in.”

Whitebeard sighs, “That Admiral really isn’t getting the hint, is he?”

“It isn’t coming from Marineford.” Colsman inches closer, a combination of confusion and apprehension on his face, “It’s originating from Totto Land.”

That definitely got the old man’s attention. And Teach’s, if he’s being honest. Big Mom was quite literally the last person he was expecting to hear from today. Whitebeard sits up straight, “What does Lin Lin want?”

“That’s the weird part, it isn’t Big Mom on the line. It’s a different woman, but she’s adamantly refusing to disclose who she is to anyone but you. She insists that the matter is urgent and involves,” he cocks his head back at the marine, “them.”

Whitebeard stares at Colsman, then at you. He nods, “Very well. I’ll take the call in my quarters.” The nurses all set to work on mobilizing his medical equipment to follow him, and Teach finds himself wanting to do the same. Then again, he’s sure that the nurses will be forced out of the room for the duration of the call. He doubts that he’d be able to eavesdrop without being caught.

Teach looks over at the marine again. What could the Big Mom Pirates possibly want with you? Was there some use to you that he wasn’t aware of? He supposes that he’ll have ample opportunity to find out so long as he continues playing his cards right.

Your wings have been clipped, after all. He doesn’t need to be scared of you now.

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