[First of all, I'd like to thank all of you for reading my shitty one-shots, they've definetly gotten better over last year. I'd like to say, that- I'm really proud of myself for consistently updating this book, you all give me motivation to do so.
I'm working on some requests right now, but my one-shots always take a minute to come out. I hope you all find it worth the wait. Thank you for 70K+, I really appreciate this milestone.]
This isn't a happy oneshot, I'm afraid.
TW: mention of abuse.
Her eyes trailed to her hands, bruises and cuts covered her body, clothes torn and ragged.
She heaved, breathing labored and painful to commit to. Her feet slapped against the floor. They didn't want this to happen. They didn't think that their mother would do this.
She shook her head. She knew this would happen, her mother wasn't a great person. Her mother was a monster.
She would spit lies about their father. Their father was a great man, and yet she would spiral into a fit of anger when you brought the point up.
Hands smacked against skin, and cries echoed in the house that was no longer- perhaps it never had been- a home.
She never expected to run away from the woman who birthed her.
As they ran, their bare foot hit a small crack in the concrete. She fell forward. Their reaction was quick, summersaulting up into a standing position, and they were once again off.
This...person, was an object of abuse, of pain, and of trauma. These were things that were hard to..simmer down. They would never fully leave her life, but with the right amount of help, the side effects would lessen.
....
This person sits on the boat, her head against the man known as Crocodile.
They shiver when his arm runs up and down their shoulder, as this affection was new. They had just begun a rrelationship. Officially.
She had opened up to Crocodile before, spilling her life story when she barely knew the man.
They thought, if a stranger, he wouldn't really care, and move on with his life. His busy, busy life.
Wrong.
He, from then on, kept them by his side, even when they fought on it. Now, it wasn't the most consensual thing, but he had good intentions.
She tried to get him arrested, of course, but he somehow convinced her otherwise.
These thoughts were pushed aside when he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her soft, yet somehow dry, lips.
They chuckled in the kiss, their hands trailing up his chest, all the way behind his neck. Their wrists crossed each other, and they were met with bliss.
Only 5 years. That's how long it took. That's how long it took to find someone who could care, and somehow nurse them back to a stable condition.
She pulled away from the kiss, her hands trialing to his face, and she caressed it. Her soft hands ran along his cheekbones, and down to his jaw. They smiled at Crocodile, their expression sincere and happy.
Happy.
He liked that you were happy. Even if he was some mob boss, he still had a heart, and even if that heart didn't make the best of decisions. He was there for her. That is all that matters.
She leaned forward, eyes closing as they layed on his chest.
His arm quickly wrapped around her waist, his hook laying on the chair next to him. He let his stump of an arm rest ontop of their lower back, almost touching her rear.
"Crocodile...?" She murmured, that smile still on her face as she peered up at him.
"What is it?" He asked, his handless arm rubbing up and down their lower back.
They thought for a moment. "Thank you so much for loving me."
"Its nothing to thank me for, but i thank you for letting me try." He hummed.
"Thank you, aswell." She leaned up, pressing one last kiss to his lips before she went back to sleeping.
Crocodile frowned as he traced the small cuts that ran along her back.
Tortured by their mother, and rejected by their father..who was one of the strongest Marines, nonetheless. How did she find the will to live?
Well now, it doesn't take someone to heal a person, it takes your own sense of wellness. Your own body. Your mind.
It takes someone who is brave enough to talk about their feelings, commit to therapy sessions, and eventually- the trauma is lessened.
Though it never goes away, it is a battle scar. Something that you can now look back on, and say, if that had never happened, I wouldn't be who I am today. If you don't really like yourself... at least you're here, and you didn't succumb to WHATEVER that toxic person wanted.
You pushed yourself up and away, distancing yourself from the toxicity of a human being who, most likely, meant so much to you at the time
Good job.
[I hope you enjoyed this short, it wasn't exactly the most happy of oneshots, the reader having a sad little backstory, but- this was kind of a lesson, I guess, as I really believe you yourself can lessen the trauma, work on yourself, love yourself, and be yourself. That is the most important part of being a human. Love you all!]
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Fanfiction"What the end of the map reveals, is only legendary, till someone proves it real!" A collection of one-piece oneshots, requested by an audience[CLOSED FOR NOW] if they wish to do so.
