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🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Nine

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Confused Thirsting.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

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Ingles was three days behind the Red Force and bright open skies were stretched ahead. So you had grabbed Cerise’s soup and stew book and found a nice place to sit on the deck of the ship while the men roughhoused and goofed off. The sun felt nice on your face and the slight breeze kept the air from feeling too hot. While you had intended on spending the morning studying Cerise’s cook book to bolster your cooking knowledge, you had instantly gotten distracted the moment swords came out.

Slowly lowering the book in front of your face, you peered over the edge as Benn and Limejuice sparred with each other with live steel. Good gods, someone was going to get hurt! You blanched at the pair, wincing every time steel clashed and sharp echo permeated the calm day.

“Better get used to it, Aria,” Hongo’s voice came from off to your left, and glancing at him, you saw him watching the pair of men. “This is pretty normal for us, we held off on it because we didn’t want to shock or upset you. But you seem to have adjusted and they were itching to get some practice in.”

“I’m not in shock or upset, I’m worried they are going to hurt each other,” You snorted indignantly. “They’re using live steel and we are on a ship that constantly moves. What happens if someone get’s cut or worse?” Hongo shrugged with a lazy smile. Of course you wouldn’t be upset by them practicing! You just didn’t want them to get hurt.

“Think about it, we’re pirates,” He stated, returning his eyes to Benn and Limejuice. “Knowing how to wield a blade on a ship is pretty damn important in our line of work. We get used to the motions and if someone does get hurt… well, I’m around and they know how to take a cut.” You still didn’t like the idea of them getting hurt by sparring like this, but you could understand the need for practice and the practicality of practicing in the same conditions they might find themselves in. So you took to watching them.

Every single one of them moved with grace and skill, they clearly had several years under their belts to hone the fine skill of wielding a blade. The sharp ring of metal on metal was not bothering you as much as it had in the beginning and you actually found enjoyment watching them as long as you ignored the little nicks and cuts they gave each other. Then the shirts came off.

Naturally they were going to get hot and work up a sweat working out and sparring, but you hadn’t been expecting them to just whip off their shirts and continue where they left off. You’d nearly snorted the water you were sipping when Bonk Chonk had whipped his own shirt off without even bothering to pause his spar with Gab. You had been slack jawed for approximately a minute before realizing that this was normal for them, and you probably shouldn’t be to worried about it. So you got over the fact that you were watching grown men with no shirts spar with live steel… until Shanks joined in on the fun.

Now, you had absolutely no problem watching the men spar shirtless, they were like older brothers to you at this point. But Shanks? Your jaw dropped open the moment he had his own shirt off and you were very lucky that Cerise’s cook book was blocking your mouth otherwise the entire crew would have seen you gawking at Shanks. When you finally managed to snap your mouth shut again, you swallowed thickly and took at least a minute to appreciate what a beautiful man Shanks was. He was appropriately tanned from sailing the Blues, not to deep but not to light, had well defined muscles that clearly indicated lifting you over his shoulder with his only arm was effortless to him, and an overall body that clearly indicated that he took good care of himself.

In your eyes, he was perfect in every way.

Your eyes stayed glued to the captain as he pulled out his own sword and loosely batted away a few strikes from Benn. It should be heavily noted that while Shanks was one armed and using his non dominant one to parry the blows to his person, his own blade moved with such refined grace that it looked like the red haired man was barely putting any effort into it! You found yourself entranced and unable to tear your eyes away.

Benn and Shanks moved about the main deck, exchanging light hearted jibs at each others form and playing on each others age. Benn was fifty, but to you he moved with the suave grace of a twenty year old. Surprising, but at the same time, not at all. With the way the men lived, their bodies were in a constant state of work. They didn’t let themselves get lazy because one simply couldn’t be lazy sailing the Blues. Shanks was thirty nine, and that did surprise you.

He had the refined looks of a mature adult, but not one almost going on forty. To you he almost seemed like he was in his early thirties, not late thirties. He was also laid back and fun, you hadn’t ever encountered an adult his age who wasn’t crotchety, asinine, or just plain mean. Another reminder that you had missed out on so much being confined to Bonn Manor. Your mind strayed from old memories, distracted by the trickles of sweat carving paths along tanned skin.

You grew rather envious of those little trails running along smooth skin and beautifully crafted muscle. Perhaps not envious, jealous might be a better word. You wanted to trace those paths to find out if Shanks muscles were truly as sculpted as they appeared to be. Your fingers twitched at the idea of them running along warm skin, following dips and curves. Oh it would be even better if it were your tongue… Freezing in place, you let out a strangled noise in the back of your throat and proceeded to smack Cerise’s cook book against your forehead as your face and neck rippled with unbearable heat.

For the love of the All Blue, Linaria! Get control of yourself!

Unfortunately for you, your noise and sudden face smack hadn’t gone unnoticed and the crew was now looking at you in concern.

“Aria?” Shanks called out, lowering his sword and worrying that something was wrong. The last three days had gone so well and he hated to have something happen now.

“I’m jealous!” You blurted out without thinking and the moment your brain caught up with your lips, mortification soon took residence within your body. Why did you say that!? You were going to burn up right in that seat, reduced to a smoldering pile of bone and ash. What you did not expect, was for the men to start laughing at you.

“Don’t be jealous, I’m sure you just have ta’ bat your eyes at Shanks all nice and pretty like, and he’ll give you some pointers on how to wield a sword.” Yasopp called, doing a fancy trick with his sling shot. For a few precious moments, you didn’t quite understand what the sniper meant… then it came to you. They thought you were jealous of them knowing how to use a sword! Relief flooded your body, but the fiery burn of embarrassment over your rather naughty thoughts lingered. Slowly lowering the book from your forehead, you eyed each of the men while trying not to openly gawk at Shanks and his unfairly handsome state.

“I don’t bat my eyes,” You huffed with a grumble. There was another round of laughter and Shanks took pity on you, sheathing his sword and walking over. “You all are terrible, I hope you realize that.”

“They’re just teasing you,” Shanks said with a teasing smile of his own. He leaned against the deck railing next to you and observed your body language. Something had embarrassed you, he could sense the heat pooling beneath your cheeks and neck, but knew that it was a far better choice to pretend that your embarrassment did not exist. “Though Yasopp is technically correct.” You glared at the red haired man, your embarrassment quickly trickling away. Shanks gave you a curvy smile.

“I’m not batting my eyes at you, just so we are clear,” You retorted, rolling your eyes and hugging the cook book to your chest.

“Shame, I rather like your eyes,” Shanks replied, leaning in a little closer to look at your eyes. They were indeed a beautiful color, one that complimented the tone of your lavender hair. Your face and neck started to warm up again. Seas give you mercy this man had no idea what he does to you. You don’t even know what he does to you!

“So about learning how to use a sword?” You broached, trying to steer your mind and the conversation away from Shanks’ body. Find your reason Linaria. Shanks’ lips twitched.

“I’ll teach you, it’d probably be better for you in the long run.” Shanks admitted, running a thumb beneath his lips. “But not when the men are sparring. They sometimes get carried away.”

“I can see that,” You said, eyeing Building Snake who had a laceration that Hongo was lecturing him about keeping clean. “This is part of your routine, and they seem to enjoy it. Please don’t let my presence alter that, I’m not going to flop in a faint because Limejuice and Gab decided to settle a wager via a sword fight.” Your frank words had Shanks’ smile stretching wider as he chuckled.

“You sure?” Lucky asked, rubbing the back of his head. He was used to doing all the cooking on board the Red Force, so you stating that you were going to be more proactive around the ship by fixing meals for the crew was a little odd. Well, you had already forced your way into helping him to feel useful, and clearly something had changed in the three weeks you’d been on board.

“Quite so,” You answered before lofting up one of Cerise’s cook books. “I’ve come armed and ready, and need some practice.” Lucky squinted at the book, almost not believing what his eyes were telling him.

“Wait a minute, is that one of—”

“Cerise’s cook books? Yes, yes it is,” You stated calmly. “She gave me a couple to learn how to cook while sailing.”

“But those books are like the holy grail to Cerise, I spent an entire summer beggin’ for just a look at one and didn’t even manage that.” Lucky complained, wondering how you had managed to get the old woman to give you not just one cook book, but several! The cook decided then and there that you must have some sort of magical gift. “Well if it’s one of Cerise’s recipes, and she gave you her books, you must have impressed her. What were you thinking?”

“Her autumn stew with jerky,” You explained, opening the book up to the page with the recipe on it. “I noticed that a lot of the ingredients you stocked up on in Ingles matched up with this recipe and I’ve never had jerky before so I figure it would be a good start.”

“Oh that stew?” Lucky asked, bouncing in place at the idea of having Cerise’s famous autumn stew with jerky for dinner. It’d been at least a year since he and the crew had tasted it. “The boys’ll eat it up! Probably won’t have leftovers but that’s why we stock up on food.” You beamed at Lucky, glad that he was on board with your plan.

“Great! Just keep them away from the kitchen, I know they like to snack on bits and pieces of stuff while you cook and I will not allow that in my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?”

“Yes,” You stated. “If I’m cooking, it’s my kitchen. No snacks, no hovering, no ‘is dinner ready yet’!” Lucky let out a slow drawn sigh.

“You really do know us, don’t you.”

“I’ve spent the last three weeks watching all of you. It wouldn’t have been very smart of me to not pick up on your quirks and habits. Additionally, you are men.” Lucky gave you a hurt look and you simply raised your eyebrow in challenge, for nothing you had said was technically wrong. “Now then, where did the jerky get stored? We need to get that soaking…”

You were proud to say that the smells coming from the kitchen had many of the men coming to investigate. However, much to their great disappointment, Lucky Roux kicked them out before they could question what was for dinner. You were busy reading through the cook book yet again while the stew simmered on the stove and barely gave the investigative men any mind. Cerise had handwritten several notes in the margins of her cookbook giving high quality tips and tricks the she had learned over the years.

Such tips included how to pick out the best produce for this recipe, how long it would stay fresh in the fridge, and what cuts of meat were best for making jerky. Making jerky wasn’t exactly something you ever thought you would want to know, but the more you thought about it the more you realized that jerky had a long shelf life and was good for the seas. Then again, you didn’t even know if you liked jerky! Your eyes flickered away from the book to the few bits of jerky left on the counter.

“Small bites, just incase you don’t like it,” You mumbled to yourself before reaching over and snatching a small piece of jerky. Looking at the small piece of red meat, you smelled it and shrugged, its smell was surprisingly good. Nibbling on the edge of the jerky, you were pleasantly surprised by the intense meat flavor. Rather than take another nibble, you simply ate the rest of the piece, savoring the flavor and rather exciting prospect of sneaking something behind Shanks and Hongo’s back. Giggling to yourself, you reached for Lucky’s special spoon and gave the bubbling stew a stir.

“The men are getting restless,” Lucky announced, shooing away Benn for what had to be the fifth time in the last hour. He peered at the stew and felt his own stomach rumbling. Just by the smell he knew that there wouldn’t be a drop of soup leftover.

“Fifteen minutes,” You said, running the spoon through the stew and checking the consistency. Oh yes, fifteen minutes should be more than enough for the stew to come together. “Youmight as well tell them to wash up, I swear I can hear them drooling.” The cook did as you bade, chuckling at your words because the men indeed were drooling.

While you had a moment alone in the kitchen, you grabbed a small spoon from the kitchen drawer and dipped it into the stew. You were fairly sure that by the smell alone, you hadn’t made anything horrendous, and you had followed Cerise’s instructions to a t, but you didn’t want the men to eat anything you cooked without tasting it first. Blowing on the small spoonful, you tentatively looked at the spoon before sticking it in your mouth.

Oh.

By no means did you think the stew was anything special, certainly if you had made it… but you were pleasantly surprised by how nice it tasted and how delicious the fresh vegetables had turned out. Of course the flavor of the jerky was there, but the dried meat had softened up to a texture that was only slightly chewy. Pleased that your first ever dish had come out well, you ladled some of the stew into a small bowl to eat before the men came along and ate everything in sight.

Bowl in hand, you squirreled yourself away the corner of the kitchen and delicately ate your portion as the men filed into the kitchen (at least in a somewhat orderly manner) to get their share of dinner. Shanks was last to grab a bowl, which he always did so intentionally, and eyed you.

“You get enough to eat? The men have been driven crazy by the smell and I doubt there will be any leftovers.” He spoke, serving himself up a bowl and grabbing a spoon. You had been surprisingly absent the last two and half hours, usually this time of day you liked to be out on the deck to watch the shimmering sunset. “Are you going to come out on deck with the rest of us men or has the drooling turned you away?”

“Oh I’ve had enough, stomach is still quite small and it’s very filling,” You reassured Shanks with that gentle smile of yours he loved. “I’m just writing some notes down before I forget, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I hold you to that, madam, as your company has been greatly missed this afternoon,” Shanks stated with a half smile and a teasing gleam in his eyes. You giggled further and turned your attention back to Cerise’s cook book. She had said that you could try adding your own variations to things, after you had made the recipe as it was intended the first time. You were thinking about how to stretch the food made on the ship, and a great many of the recipes you’d tabbed through in Cerise’s other cook books had main dishes over variations of potatoes.

You wrote down your last thoughts, making sure that you wrote down the nuances and taste profile of the stew. While you had initially intended to learn how to cook to be self sufficient, you found that you enjoyed the task and wanted to work on the skill more than just for survival. Tucking the book away in a safe place, you wandered out to the main deck while humming beneath your breath. The moment you appeared on deck, the chatter of the men ceased and you found all eyes on you.

“Something wrong?” You asked, your eyebrow rising while you looked around.

“When did you learn how to cook?” It was Bonk Chonk that spoke. You blinked and tilted your head to the side.

“Three days ago, why?”

“Bloody hell you’re a lucky man,” Limejuice complained, much to your confusion as the rest of the crew nodded with equal groans.

“Well at least we get to enjoy it for now, because this is life changing,” Hongo muttered before diving back into his dinner. Nods went around and they all resumed eating, leaving you in a state of confusion.

“Come on, you’re missing the view,” He said, guiding you by the elbow to the perfect view of the fading sunset. You looked up at his face with your eyebrows scrunched.

“What was that about?” You questioned, really not understanding what the pirates had been talking about. Shanks shook his head and was grateful that you didn’t understand their subtle quips.

“They’re just being themselves, Aria, never mind them.” He reassured you, making a mental note to tell the men to back off on the comments. The last thing any of them wanted was to scare you off.

Date Published: 1/25/24

Last Edit: 1/25/24

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oatyoooo · 3 months

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This post contains resources for leaving a domestic violence situation (in the United States). If you have additional domestic violence resources from other countries/places in the world, please leave them in comments.

This is a content warning: beneath the cut is a conversation about Simple Math, domestic violence, and my boundaries.

Hi.

I want to preface this conversation by telling you how much I love you all. I'm so grateful to the little community that we've built here, and I really feel like we've created a space where we can talk to one another comfortably. I adore interacting with you all and I've been pleasantly surprised at Simple Math's reception. I knew writing a fic with a character who had survived domestic violence would open a certain kind of conversation, and I'm okay with that, to an extent.

That being said:

For my own peace, I ask that you refrain from sending me GRAPHIC messages about your experience with domestic violence. If you are a victim/survivor/witness/etc, and you want to open a conversation with me reference your experiences and/or trauma, I am absolutely okay with that as long as it's done in an appropriate way. A lot of us can relate to Bun, and I don't have an issue sharing enthusiasm for the story in relation to your life. I am not okay with DMs or anonymous messages detailing graphic descriptions of abuse. You don't know me, my personal life, or the things I've experienced, and sending a detailed play by play of your past or current experiences (without even a warning) is not okay. I understand that you need someone to talk to, or maybe even someone to ask for advice, but I cannot read the graphic nature of these messages, and I encourage you to turn towards someone who knows you personally so you can receive help. Leaving the details of a current or ongoing domestic violence situation in my inbox, with no way for me to report what is happening or ability to get you any kind of help or resources, cannot happen. Domestic violence is a crime. In the case of physical abuse, it is a violent crime. Please do not detail violent crime to me in my inbox.

I consider myself to be a kind person. I try to help my community in real life and here as much as I can. I strive to make this a space where you feel comfortable and welcomed. I enjoy the way we interact and talk about these stories. It pains me to have to write something out like this, but I really don't know what else to do. It's very upsetting to read a message from someone who possibly is being harmed, and then feeling like I'm screaming into a fucking void because it's an anonymous message and I cannot help.

I've included some resources below if you're in the US and need somewhere to start in regard to getting out of a domestic violence situation.

US resources: Phone: 800-799-7233 Text: Text START to 88788

Create a safety plan. It’s important to plan how to stay safe while still living with an abusive partner and how you can safely leave the home or relationship. Record evidence of any abuse you experienced. This could include pictures of injuries you received or threatening messages. If possible, keep a journal of violent incidents, noting dates, events, and any threats made. Store your journal in a safe place. Establish where you can go to get help. If you’re comfortable doing so, tell someone trusted about what’s happening. They can help you with safety planning or finding resources that support survivors. Plan with your children and identify a safe place where they can go during moments of crisis, like a room with a lock or a friend’s house. Reassure them that their job is to stay safe, not to protect you. When preparing to go to a shelter, if you can, call ahead to see what the shelter’s policies are. They can give you information on how they can help and how to secure a space when it’s time to leave. Our advocates can also provide you with local resources. Try to set money aside or ask trusted friends or family members to hold money for you somewhere an abusive partner can’t reach it. Financial abuse is very common and creates many issues for someone preparing to leave. If relevant and feasible, pursue job skills or educational qualifications that expand your opportunities for independence. Talk with an advocate at The Hotline. Our advocates are highly trained in all aspects of domestic violence. They can help you create a safety plan, give information on preparing to leave, and can connect you to local domestic violence resources for further support. Create a safety plan. It’s important to plan how to stay safe while still living with an abusive partner and how you can safely leave the home or relationship. Record evidence of any abuse you experienced. This could include pictures of injuries you received or threatening messages. If possible, keep a journal of violent incidents, noting dates, events, and any threats made. Store your journal in a safe place. Establish where you can go to get help. If you’re comfortable doing so, tell someone trusted about what’s happening. They can help you with safety planning or finding resources that support survivors. Plan with your children and identify a safe place where they can go during moments of crisis, like a room with a lock or a friend’s house. Reassure them that their job is to stay safe, not to protect you. When preparing to go to a shelter, if you can, call ahead to see what the shelter’s policies are. They can give you information on how they can help and how to secure a space when it’s time to leave. Our advocates can also provide you with local resources. Try to set money aside or ask trusted friends or family members to hold money for you somewhere an abusive partner can’t reach it. Financial abuse is very common and creates many issues for someone preparing to leave. If relevant and feasible, pursue job skills or educational qualifications that expand your opportunities for independence. Talk with an advocate at The Hotline. Our advocates are highly trained in all aspects of domestic violence. They can help you create a safety plan, give information on preparing to leave, and can connect you to local domestic violence resources for further support.

You are loved, even if it doesn't feel like it. You have the ability to do things you never could have dreamed of, and that includes getting out.

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