Misc ideas/One shots

Tarnished Treasure [?xReader]

Update*** this idea has now been fleshed out in my book 'Caught in the Fisherman's Bend'

Here's an idea I had for a new character (because I definitely need one more of those -_-). I don't really know where it came from, but I just rolled with it for a bit and kinda like how things turned out.

I haven't decided who the pairing would be with, though I am leaning a certain way at the moment.

But if you have an suggestions on what character/pirate crew would be a good fit for this reader please feel free to mention them!

I played a bit with my world-building here, hopefully it comes through like I hoped it would.

You stared blankly at the sodden post towering over your head.

The waves lapped at your legs, moving between your thighs and your ankles as the sea breathed in and out. The sand squished pleasantly between your toes.

The slanting golden light of the sun filtered through the cracks between the boards above, casting long bars of shadow under the dock and over your body.

The tramp of boots on the planks overhead shook some debris loose and you brushed the pieces of lichen and splinters of wood from your hair. The low voices of fishermen returning from the day's haul soon disappeared as they hurried home to their families.

You remained under the pier, staring up at the post.

Barnacles covered its lower half, the mass of small shells stopping at the high-water line. A section above that was worn smooth by the repetitive motion of the waves. And yet higher was the salt stained portion that you had been glaring at for the past ten minutes.

The pale yellow of newly exposed wood stuck out against the weathered grey. The sun began disappearing under the horizon and the sky lit up with a brilliant red. The shadows cast under the docks grew and the contrast made the vandalism all the more apparent.

"How the hell did they even get up there?" you muttered under your breath.

It hadn't been like that this afternoon. You had come by at high tide, like always, and seen it. The crudely drawn butterfly had been there just as it had been every day since your sister left; hidden beneath the pier, tucked away in a place only you and she knew to look.

Her promise to return. Her oath to remember you.

And yet, with the water much too low for anyone to reach, someone had had the gall to climb up there and desecrate it!

Your fists clenched and you stalked over to the post.

Your hand dove into a pocket of your two-sizes-too-large pants and drew out a length of rope.

With practiced movements, you tied a knot on one end and launched it up and over one of the support beams high above. The weighted end crested your target and then fell back down. You let the twine run through your fingers, long numb to the burn, and then gathered both ends in your hands and hoisted yourself up the pole.

The barnacles cut into your bare feet, but the thick layer of callouses from years of going without shoes protected you from the worst of the damage.