ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 (platonic and romantic oneshots)

Shiver Me Fuckin' Timbers

pirates :]

Pronouns: He/Him

Words:1353

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The small platform they had made rocked with the waves, the soft pitter patters of rain hitting the unroofed wood. The five of them thirsty and hungry from the past however long. The old raft had crashed, them all getting stranded until they could craft something to get them back afloat. And now it was raining, a brief relief from the blistering sun. 

The five of them had been running from the law, stealing a decently sized boat along with the gold they had snatched, getting away. The boat had barely any food or water on it, and it was only 2 days later they had crashed. The group had done their best to make something they could continue on, and to their surprise, it worked. But now they were hungry again.

The platform rocked as the rain poured down, the people on board holding onto what they could as it broke apart, the waves crashing, everything fading to black. 

The next thing he knew, water was being splashed onto his face, the heat from the sun beating down once again. Sitting up and grasping his head, he looked around, his friends in similar situations, surrounded by strangers. Each dressed in, for the most part, untattered clothes, each having a scabbard and flintlock gun on their belts.

The click of one of said guns was sounded next to his head as he turned his head with wide eyes, meeting blue ones. 

"Glad to see you're awake. Now, give us a reason why we shouldn't blast you all to bits."

The man was tall, had an eyepatch that covered a scar over his eye, a slight stubble, and to top it all off, he was very Irish. "Well?"

"I, well, I-"

"We haven't all day!"

"Parlay!"

"Of course you would call that when he isn't here,"

He looked up at the Irishman as him and his friends were pulled to their feet, ropes being tied to their wrists as they were dragged down into the bottom of the ship, being tossed into a cell. "You lot stay here until we got to shore. We're going to need some bait."

"W-what about the parlay?! You cant do us any harm until It's done!"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, you dog. You'll get your parlay."

The Irishman walked off, leaving them with their thoughts. "Puffer, what the hell is a 'Parlay'?" Smitty asked, looking at his friend. "If you call parlay, It's essentially granting you immunity from a pirate crew from hurting you until you speak to their captain." He said, attempting to itch his wrists from the rope that dug into his wrists.

"How long do you think we'll be down here?" Pezzy asked as he leaned back slightly, attempting to get as comfortable as you could in a splinter covered cell. "No clue-"

The hatch that led down was opened, a male walking down, basket in hand.

"You uh, you looked hungry. Sorry about Brian, by the way. He's been on edge since the captain got captured." He said, taking something out of the basket and holding it out. Bread. Bread that wasn't stale and moldy. "Take it. You may be here for a while."

The male had his hair cut in such a way if set to one side, the sides being cut down to his head as a bandana held it up and in place. The group each taking their share of the bread, the male smiled slightly and walked off, saying he had duties to attend to.

Several hours later, a voice from above shouted. "Land ho!"

The door was slung open, Brian walking down. "Now's your chance to keep your lives."

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The group were being brought into the town, some of the crew disguised as guards that held them in place. In front of them were a huge crowd in front of a platform, large ropes hanging from podiums.

'Shit.'

The guards by the platform walked someone up, a black burlap sack over their head. The crew members that had brought them out took them to the platform, walking them up the steps as they were put in place next to the still stranger, roped being hung around their necks as the rope on their wrists was removed.

The bag on the the strangers head was removed, revealing a male with (s/t) skin, his hair frazzled, bags under his eyes along with an unkempt stubble. He had a smirk on his face. How could someone be so unworried looking death in the eye?

As the executioner spoke, Droid, who was situated next to the stranger spoke. "Are we going to die?" The stranger looked over, raising an eyebrow. "Doubt it, my crew should be here any moment now," he said, a parrot flying to a nearby post, perching and squawking out.

"The dead man lives, the dead man lives,"

"Now, when the platform drops, keep your feet pointed and together, y' savvy?"

"Wh- what? Why?"

"If you want to live, you'll do it."

The executioner turned, griping a wooden lever on the ground. Right as the lever was pulled, the sound of metal hitting wood was sound. Instead of their feet dangling, it met a thin metal that wobbled, but kept the group up. Shots were heard as the crowd dispersed, guards going on the defensive.

"Captain!" 

Brian had knocked the guard that was attacking him out, rushing up the stairs. "Get that lot first," the 'Captain' said, Brian slashing the ropes on their necks as they fell, people from the ship catching them and handing them their own scabbards. Brian sliced the rope above the captains head, him jumping down and yanking out the scabbard.

"Well don't just stand there, get back to the ship!"

The group ran though the crowd as the ship, climbing up the rope ladder as it began to set sail, the rest of the crew on deck as the captain ran towards the rope. Holding his hand out, Puffer shouted. "Jump!"

The captain ran and jumped, catching his hand as he swung slightly, gaining his footing on the ladder as they all climbed up. Setting foot on deck, the captain brushed himself off, Brian grabbing his arm and leading him to the captains quarters, claiming his usual garb was waiting.

A few minutes later, the captain walked out wearing much nicer clothes. Boots that went up to about his knees, dark, baggy pants, a flowy white button down that showed the center of his chest where several large scars could be seen. A dark overcoat that had been torn slightly at the bottom, a brown triangle captain hat on his head. His face was now clean shaven, and he had small gold rings hanging from his ears.

"Much better, now, Who the hell called a Parlay?!"

Puffer was pushed forward as the captain walked forward to stand in front of him. "And may I ask why you called Parlay?"

"I well, I panicked, and I- well, we, uh,"

"Calm yourself. Everyone, back to your stations. You come with me."

The two were sat in the captains quarters, a desk between the two of them. Several maps and pencils were strown across the desk. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I do believe a proper introduction is necessary, yes?" He said, sticking out a gloved hand. "Captain (Y/n) (M/i) (L/n), pleasure to make your acquaintance." Puffer took his hand, shaking it. "Um, Puffer, no last name I can remember." (Y/n) smiled slightly, releasing his hand. "Now, onto important matters. Your reasoning for Parlay?"

"Your crew pulled us onto your ship after our raft broke apart. One of your crew members almost shot me, I just panicked. We were just on our way to Cross Port, all we want is safe travel. We're willing to work to keep our safety." He said as the Captain scratched his chin. "Cross Port you said?" he asked, standing as Puffer nodded. Walking to a table by the window, he looked at a map that had been laid out. "We were on our way to Cross Port before I was captured. Tell you what, you help keep the ship in shape, you lot can have safe travel. Savvy?"

Puffer nodded as the Captain smiled at him. "Good! Now, lets get you lot some fresh clothes, hm?"

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pirates <3