Stolen Voice (Shanks × Reader)

Four

A few days later

You are huddled up tightly by Shanks' bare chest, listening to his breath as he sleeps peacefully, his arms locked around your figure.

You watch him with a gentleness you rarely dare to show, but as nobody can see it now, you allow yourself to feel all this sensation you gradually learned to accept.

Almost two weeks passed since you first met him.

And almost one since he asked about your past, which he never did again as he was afraid to upset you.

You press a delicate kiss under his collarbone, and the young man smiles in his dream, turning his head subconsciously towards you.

A wave of warm, bright flames falls to his face, and as he sniffles, you carefully move the strands away because they tickled his nose.

He is the most precious thing you have ever known.

You close your eyes, but even then, you see him.

As much as you asked him to keep his distance from you, you did the complete opposite.

He hasn't talked much about the relationship between you, but you feel it in every movement of his and yours.

How he keeps you so close, holding your hand as you walk or embracing your waist when you talk to him.

He watches over you as if you were a bird to fly away as soon as he lets go of you.

You hide your face by his protective arm, his sweet scent filling your whole mind with a white, fuzzy cloud.

You haven't used your Devil Fruit since you joined them, and its pain starts to fade in your memories.

You don't want to feel it ever again, that splitting, harsh flood of misery like thousands of blades slicing you open to rip your heart apart.

All that for a few seconds, which is only yours, away from the rules of this world.

His face shows up in your mind again, and the edges of your thoughts dull while you slowly drift back to being half-asleep.

A tear comes to your eyes, but you don't let it flee.

You tremble as you think of what is to come, and the air feels heavy and choking in your throat as it gets drenched in the dusk of the future you fear.

You hear Mihawk's voice, finding you from a memory you locked away a long time ago to keep your sanity.

But now it spirals back to you as you were careless of ruling your emotions.

You are trapped on the ledge of your consciousness, barely balancing between a waiting nightmare and being awake in the man's arms you have grown to care about so much.

Your brother yells, yells, and screams in pain while you listen to him with widened eyes, empty as you feel, and can't move a bit to help him.

You forced yourself to hear him, and hoped, prayed that your torment and sorrow would bloom strong enough to lend you enough strength to reach him before it's too late.

But the chains always stayed.

As Mihawk cries your name once again in desperation, the hollow inside you falls apart, and you collapse to the ground, clawing your arms not to cover your ears.

But as your rational thoughts slowly die out under your rage, your mouth opens, and you start sobbing, as your brain hopelessly tries to defend you from hearing him more, as it gradually rips your thoughts to shreds.