ooffmlsorry

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Some things never change (modern AU)

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Saja vinsmokes (art trade with @nowthatswhaticallpunk

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I desperately need Law to sit me down and explain the entire plot of Tenet...I feel like he would love it or the movie with give him an aneurysm

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My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!

I am fire. I am death!

[ooffmlsorry]

Play Nice

Pairings: Sabo X gn!Reader

You and Sabo are fake-dating to piss off someone you both hate. It’s supposed to be for show, but the more casual you act, the more real it starts to feel.

Word Count: 5,500

tags: fluff, fake dating

my masterlist here ♡

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a/n: been so busy the past month but guess who graduated last week? :D i'm bacckkk!! i missed sabo sm so here’s a messy lil unproofread fic for him >< also can someone pls write more sabo fics i'm begging… tired of scrolling his tag and seeing my own posts lmao

----

The only reason you kiss Sabo is because you want someone else to suffer.

Not because you're in love.

Not because you’re even pretending to be.

Not because you admire the way he speaks with that slow, deliberate calm like every sentence is a weapon he's decided not to use.

You just want to win.

And Sabo, unfortunately, is there.

The courtyard is clean and too perfect. The stone paths shine like they’ve never been walked on. The hedges are shaped into strange figures with eyes that seem to follow you.

Your target is across the patio, smirking as if he’s already won. You can feel it. That thick, oily smugness of a man who built his ego on your back and still thinks he’s entitled to lean there.

You don’t speak when you grab Sabo by the collar. You just tilt his face toward yours, feel his breath stutter briefly against your mouth, and press in like this is a secret you’re punishing him with.

It isn’t soft. It isn’t pretty. It’s convincing.

He doesn’t move for a second. Then he adjusts slightly, as if correcting your form. His hand brushes your cheek, gentle in a way that feels insulting, and his mouth opens enough to suggest familiarity. You pull away before you’re tempted to study his expression.

The man across the patio is no longer smirking.

You win.

You wipe your mouth like it’s blood. Sabo raises an eyebrow. “Is this going to be a recurring strategy?”

“Only if you’re useful.”

“I’m always useful.”

That’s the problem.

----

He doesn’t ask who you were trying to hit with it. He doesn’t need to.

His gaze flicks past your shoulder. You don’t have to follow it. You know who’s still watching. He always watches. He watches you the way people watch flames—possessively, like he invented the heat.

Sabo tilts his head, just slightly. “You want to make him jealous.”

You lick your teeth. “Jealous is too noble. I want him humiliated.”

A quiet beat. “Does it work?”

“Not enough.”

“Then do it again.”

You finally look at him. Really look. Not at the hair still curled from the humidity, not at the scar peeking under his collar, not at the mouth that played along with a lie you didn’t warn him about.

You say, “You always volunteer for other people’s messes?”

“Only when they overlap with mine.”

You tilt your head. “Didn’t think you two had history.”

“We don’t,” he says. His voice drops a little, quieter now. “He got someone I trained killed. Lied about it. Then smiled like it meant nothing.”

You look back over your shoulder. The target still hasn’t left. He’s pretending not to watch you anymore, but his drink hasn’t moved in six minutes and he’s laughing too hard at nothing.

Sabo adds, “I’ve seen rats with more dignity.”

You face him again. “So this is mutual.”

“As long as he’s uncomfortable, I’ll keep playing along.”

You raise a brow. “Playing along?”

He looks at you then. Really looks. Like he’s measuring something sharp inside your ribs.

“I’m saying we make it official.”

You wait. He lets you.

“This,” he says. “You and me. Public. Obnoxious. Something that forces him to see us every time he walks into a room.”

You narrow your eyes. “You think he cares that much?”

“I think he’s the kind of man who needs to believe everyone still circles around him,” Sabo says. His tone is steady, but not cold. “And I think watching you fall for someone else will destroy him faster than a bullet would.”

You pause. Consider. Then say it outright.

“I’m not falling for anyone.”

“Good,” he replies. “Neither am I.”

You cross your arms. “So what’s the pitch?”

“We’re tired of hiding it,” he murmurs, like he’s already feeding the line to some half-drunk audience. “We’ve been on-and-off for months. It’s been messy. Complicated. And now we’re done pretending.”

You smirk. “How romantic.”

“It isn’t.” He smiles too, like this is a game he’s waited all evening to win. “It’s theatrical.”

You tilt your head. “And if someone asks what I see in you?”

“You tell them I make you feel dangerous again.”

That hits you harder than you expect. Not because it’s a lie.

Because it’s close to something you miss.

You say, “And if they ask when I fell for you?”

“Tell them you didn’t fall,” he says. “Tell them it hit you like a crash.”

And just like that, it’s sealed.

Not with a handshake. Not with a kiss.

Just shared violence in the form of performance.

You step in close enough for your voice to burn between you. “Fine. Let’s give him something to choke on.”

Sabo’s eyes drop to your mouth for a second. Not soft. Not teasing. Just reading you.

“Tomorrow morning,” he says, like a man drawing a blueprint. “We eat together. I put my hand on your thigh. You laugh like it’s real.”

“And then?”

“We escalate.”

You nod once, sharp. “Let him think we’re unhinged.”

“Let him think we’re inevitable.”

And for the first time all night, he actually smiles for real.

“You always this good at revenge?” he asks.

You walk past him like you didn’t hear it.

But the grin on your face gives you away.

----

The dining room is busy when you walk in. White tablecloths. Silver plates. Too many smiles.

You take your seat without looking around. You already know where he is.

Far end of the room. Same corner. Same people. Same fake laugh.

You don’t glance his way. Not yet.

Sabo arrives two minutes later. He doesn’t say anything when he stops behind your chair. His hand settles on your back, light but sure, and he leans down just enough to speak low by your ear.

“Let’s give them something to talk about.”

You don’t smile. You don’t look at him.

You just pour his coffee and slide the cup over like this is normal.

He sits beside you. Close. His knee brushes yours under the table. His hand moves to your thigh like it belongs there.

You don’t flinch. But your grip on your fork tightens.

He starts eating like he’s done this before. No hesitation. No glance toward your target. He knows the man's watching.

“You’re too relaxed,” you say quietly.

“I thought that was the goal,” Sabo answers without looking up.

“You’re not worried about overdoing it?”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin. Calm, casual. “I’m more worried about looking like I don’t want you here.”

You stab your food. “You don’t.”

“Not the point.”

You glance across the room. The man you’re trying to ruin finally looks up. Just a second. Just enough.

Sabo’s hand squeezes your thigh, soft and brief. Like punctuation.

You push his hand off. He doesn’t put it back.

He drinks his coffee and finally turns his head toward you.

“You’re tense,” he says.

“Don’t start acting like you care.”

“Just saying. You were more relaxed when you kissed me without warning.”

You turn to him slowly. “Maybe because I didn’t have to talk to you after.”

His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Just the shadow of one.

You add, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I’m good at acting.”

“That wasn’t acting.”

He doesn’t answer that.

Across the room, your target shifts in his seat. He leans closer to the girl beside him. Tries to laugh like nothing’s changed. It sounds wrong.

You don’t smile, but it’s close.

Sabo watches your face. “He’s getting uncomfortable.”

“That’s not enough.”

“It’s only day one.”

You pick up your drink. “Then we better make tomorrow worse.”

He says, “Tell me what to do.”

You don’t look at him when you say it. “You’ll kiss me next time.”

You feel his eyes on you for a beat too long.

He says nothing.

And that’s fine. You already know he will.

----

You don’t need to say it out loud. The signal’s already been given.

The way your hand reaches for his collar. The way his gaze doesn’t leave your face. The way every conversation in the hall begins to slow, just enough to catch what’s about to happen.

He steps into your space with the kind of stillness only someone like him could pull off — not quiet, not hesitant, just composed, like this is a briefing he memorized in advance. His hand brushes your side as you lean in, fingertips grazing the line of your coat like he’s placing a mark without leaving one.

Then his fingers lift to your jaw. Steady. Barely a touch. Just enough to tilt your face toward his.

And he kisses you.

It’s not deep. It’s not soft. It’s not messy.

But it is something else entirely.

Because from the outside, it’s perfect — the kind of kiss that looks practiced, natural, like it’s been happening for weeks behind locked doors. Like he knows your mouth. Like you let him.

But from the inside?

From the inside, it feels like something missed a step.

Like a scene you rehearsed too well — and then forgot you were performing.

His mouth is steady. Warm. Just the right pressure to look convincing — too convincing.

Your hand curls slightly in his coat before you remember it’s not supposed to mean anything.

It doesn’t last long.

But it ends too slow.

When he pulls back, you feel the space between you stretch like it used to be smaller.

And then—

“Since when?!” Ivankov practically shrieks.

You don’t answer.

Sabo calmly takes his seat beside you, back straight, unfazed. “Private matter.”

“Private?” Ivankov gasps. “That was not a casual kiss! That was not a ‘we’re just messing around’ kiss! That was a committed, world-ending, I’d-fake-my-death-for-you kiss!”

You blink. Still staring straight ahead.

“Don’t act surprised. We just stopped hiding it.”

That shuts Ivankov up for all of five seconds.

He gasps again, grabbing a napkin like it’s a fainting cloth. “You’ve been hiding that? That chemistry? That domestic warzone of a kiss?”

Koala’s arms are crossed so tight she’s practically carved into the chair. “If you two start making out during briefings, I’m leaving.”

Belo Betty leans her elbow on the table. “No, let’s let it play out. Could be good for morale.”

Sabo sits beside you like nothing happened. Calm, steady, back to neutral.

Good.

You won.

But when Sabo shifts in his seat and your knee bumps his under the table.. neither of you move.

You say nothing. Your jaw’s set too tight.

He finally says, “It worked.”

“Obviously,” you mutter, taking your drink. “We’ve got an audience.”

Across the room, your target looks like he just swallowed something sour.

His smirk’s gone. His eyes haven’t moved from you since the kiss.

----

It’s been a month. Maybe more.

The lie works better than either of you expected. Too well, maybe. No one questions it anymore. You’re just a given now — a pair. A unit. A fact.

You don’t talk about the plan anymore. You don’t need to. It’s folded into your daily routine — small things, easy to miss unless you know what to look for.

The way your chairs are always just a little too close. The way Sabo’s hand sometimes lingers on the small of your back when you pass through crowded halls. The way you don’t look away when someone else notices.

You’re sitting with Sabo behind the main tent, just out of sight from the main courtyard. The wind carries the smell of fried rice and gunpowder. You’re both eating out of the same dented metal bowl, sharing one spoon, balanced between your knees. His thigh is pressed against yours. Neither of you move.

He hands you the spoon after taking a bite. You pause. “Is that… crunchy?”

“Burnt,” he replies without hesitation.

You scowl. “Don’t want it.”

Without comment, he took back the spoon and scoops up a bite and brings it to your mouth, like it’s a habit and not a decision. You glare at him but don’t resist. You take the bite.

Your expression warps instantly.

Sabo snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”

You swallow like it’s personal. “That tasted like betrayal and engine grease.”

“That’s the seasoning.”

You flick a grain of rice at him. He blinks when it hits his cheek, then very deliberately flicks one back. It hits your forehead and stays there.

You both stare at each other for a beat.

Then the laugh escapes you — sharp, ugly, real. It snaps out before you can shape it. A startled, breathless bark that pulls your whole body into it.

Sabo grins, not hiding it. “What, that your weakness? Precision rice-based warfare?”

“I’m rethinking this whole thing.”

“What, us?”

“This bench. The food. Your face.”

He tries to look offended. Fails. “You’d miss me if I disappeared.”

You smirk. “I’d throw a party.”

“And then sulk after.”

“You think too highly of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, tapping the spoon against the rim of the bowl. “But you’re still here.”

You lean back and exhale, like you haven’t done that in hours

.

The laughter is still in your chest. Warm. Easy.

“I forgot people could be tolerable,” you say, surprised by how true it feels.

Sabo glances over, expression unreadable. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Without thinking, you lean your head against his shoulder.

He doesn’t shift away. He doesn’t tense up. He just lets you settle there.

Neither of you speaks. You’re just staring forward — not at anything in particular. Just the camp, the haze of dust rising from boots, the slow shift of sun across a weathered wall.

The conversation slows. But not in a bad way.

There’s just... space.

The kind you stop noticing after a while. The kind that starts feeling like yours.

Then a sound — metal clanging in the distance. Not sharp, just loud enough to stir your focus. You lift your head.

And there he is.

Your target. Standing just past the main tent, half in shadow, arms folded. His jaw is clenched. There’s a crack in the expression he’s wearing — like he meant to look bored and couldn’t quite hold it.

Sabo notices. Bumps your shoulder.

“You want to give him a show?”

You glance sideways. “Now?”

“We’re already halfway there.”

You shake your head. “I don’t feel like it.”

Sabo smiles. It’s a small thing. Not smug, not cruel. Just the kind of quiet satisfaction that doesn’t need an audience.

Your target turns away.

But it’s not smooth. It’s sharp, almost clipped — like he realized too late how long he’d been watching. Like the heat reached him before the shame did.

Sabo watches him leave. Then his voice comes low, controlled. “He saw.”

You nod once, eyes still trained in that direction. “Good.”

But it doesn’t land like it used to.

You sit back, arms crossed. Stare down at your own hands like they’ve been holding more than they should.

And for just a second — just long enough to matter — you wonder:

Was that for him?

Because by now, it looks like the mission is working. He’s always pissed off. Always watching. Always reacting exactly the way you wanted him to.

Or was that for us?

You don’t ask.

And Sabo doesn’t say anything either.

Because the plan is still the plan.

And you’re still just playing the part.

Right?

----

You’re still behind the supply tent.

The crates are half-counted. The clipboard’s in your hand, but you haven’t written anything for minutes. There’s nothing left to count. Nothing left to do.

You should have walked away already. Instead, someone walks in.

Your target. Your ex.

You knew it would happen eventually. You just hoped he’d take the hint and disappear like everyone else who lost.

But of course not him. Not the kind of man who thinks you’re unfinished business.

“You always had a habit of disappearing when things wrapped up.”

You don’t look up. The sound of his voice already curdles something in your stomach. Still too smooth. Still acting like he knows you better than you know yourself.

You set down a ledger without responding.

He steps around to face you. Still in uniform. Still smug. He watches your expression like he’s trying to pin it to something he recognizes.

“You made quite the scene these past few weeks. You and him.”

You finally meet his eyes. “It wasn’t about you.”

He tilts his head like you’re being cute. “No. Of course not. That’s why you kissed him in front of me, right? That’s why you laugh louder when I’m around. Touch him more. Hold eye contact like you’re trying to sell it to an audience.”

You grit your teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself. Not everything is about you.”

“Come on," he says, voice lowering. “I know you. You always played dirty when you wanted to make a point. You don’t put on a show like that unless you want a reaction.”

You go still.

He smiles at that. Like he’s won something. Like he never lost anything at all.

“I forgave you, by the way,” he says, stepping closer. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe we just got messy. But I know there’s something still here. You don’t fake that kind of rage unless there’s feeling under it.”

You don’t answer.

He takes another step, then pulls you into a hug.

You freeze. His arm slides around your back. His hand presses too firm at your waist. His face leans into the side of your neck like he has the right.

You don’t react right away. It’s not panic. It’s not nostalgia. It’s not even hate.

It’s nothing.

There’s no heat in your chest. No spike of old habits. No buried memory flickering awake.

There’s just his weight on your shoulders. His hand at your side. His cheek brushing to your skin.

And you feel absolutely nothing.

Like being hugged by a coat you never wore. Something that used to belong to you, maybe. But doesn’t fit anymore.

Your hands press flat to his chest.

You don’t shove him immediately. You're too busy realizing just how far gone this all is.

Then you hear it.

Something behind you — a faint sound, a shift in the tent flap. Nothing loud. Just enough to snap your attention back.

You don’t turn to check.

You shove him off.

He stumbles slightly, then gives a crooked smile like it’s a game. Then he laughs under his breath like it’s a joke you’re both still in on.

You don’t bother responding.

You turn. You walk away.

You’re done with him.

----

Something shifted.

It starts slow.

Just small things. Things you could brush off.

At first, it’s the way Sabo doesn’t look at you during briefings. Not once. He keeps his eyes forward, his words clipped, evenly distributed. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just another soldier in the room.

But you do know better.

Later, at dinner, he takes a seat before you even show up. Doesn’t glance back. Doesn’t save you a spot. Doesn’t slide the spoon across the bowl like he always did.

You sit somewhere else. Not by choice.

He’s not avoiding you completely. That would be easier. Clearer.

This is worse. This is precise.

He speaks to you when necessary. Answers plainly. No heat. No irritation. Just... clean.

Like distance was something he planned in advance.

It starts to build.

You catch yourself watching for it. Measuring it. Counting the pauses he lets sit too long. The parts of camp he wanders now — the ones that used to be yours.

And you try to play it off. Act like none of it matters. Like you didn’t notice the change in his posture or how he doesn’t laugh as easily when you’re the one talking.

But it keeps happening.

You sit beside him one evening, by the fire. Quiet, casual. Something you’ve done so many times before, your body doesn’t even think about it.

And yet.

He stays still for a full minute. Long enough for it to feel normal.

Then he stands.

No rush. No excuse that sounds personal. Just a soft, “Left something back at camp,” and then he’s gone.

You stay there.

Hands still resting on your knees, eyes on the fire that doesn’t warm you like it used to.

That’s when it settles in.

He’s pulling away.

And you don’t know why.

No argument. No accusation. Nothing obvious to hang it on. Just... silence. Replaced habits. Empty space where something used to be.

And worst of all, he doesn’t look at you.

Not the way he used to. Not with any trace of what you built between the missions and the fake smiles and the nights spent too close.

He still jokes with others. Still throws smirks at people who tease him. Still issues orders like nothing’s wrong.

But with you — it’s clean. Dry. Formal.

You try not to notice.

But you do.

Of course you do.

Because even when the room is loud, the silence he’s leaving around you is impossible to miss.

----

You’ve been counting excuses for days.

That he’s busy. That it’s just a phase. That Sabo pulls away when missions pile up, when plans get messy, when the world starts bleeding at the edges. You’ve told yourself a dozen versions of that lie.

But none of them explain how it feels now.

The bar is loud.

The revolutionaries are celebrating. Mission done. Reports submitted. Casualties low enough to toast over.

And there’s Sabo.

In the middle of it. Smiling, laughing, nodding politely while some girl brushes invisible dust from his sleeve like she’s earned the right to touch him. Another one leans in close to say something, voice syrup-sweet. He doesn’t pull away.

He’s not doing anything wrong. That’s the worst part.

Just enough to remind you that you haven’t spoken in days. That he’s looked through you like smoke. That your name hasn’t passed his mouth since the last debrief.

You’re in the back corner of the room, nursing a drink that stopped tasting like anything. Your hand’s tight around the glass, knuckles white.

You watch him laugh at something. Not even a real joke. Just something pretty and shallow and easy.

Too easy for someone who’s supposed to be busy, huh?

Koala says something beside you. You don’t hear it. You just set your glass down too hard, and she stops mid-sentence.

You’re already walking before you decide to.

The noise stretches behind you. The chatter. The chairs. The music. None of it touches you.

You don’t slow when you reach him. Don’t wait for a pause in the conversation. Don’t care that his attention is divided. You just speak.

“Did you forget we’re on a mission?”

Sabo turns his head. Calm. Like he didn’t expect to see you but he’s not surprised either.

You’re not smiling. You’re not even pretending to. “Or does it only matter when you’re the one pretending?”

The girl next to him steps back. Slight. Embarrassed. Sabo doesn’t look at her. He looks at you.

“Thought the mission was successful,” he says. “You got him back, didn’t you?”

You blink.

It’s not the words. It’s the way he says it. Measured. Like he’s already decided what role you played and what that must mean.

“I didn’t want him back,” you say flatly.

He tilts his head. “Didn’t look that way.”

You laugh once, low and humorless. “You think I’d spend months pulling this off just to run back to the person I did it to?”

“You tell me.” His voice isn’t raised. But something inside it has gone tight. “Because from where I stood, it didn’t look like performance.”

“Then maybe you should’ve stuck around longer.”

"Nah, be happy with him," Sabo says, already turning. He walks out of the bar without waiting for a response.

You follow.

The air outside is cooler, quieter. Less heat, less smoke, less noise but not enough to calm the twist building in your chest.

"I don’t know where you’re coming from," you say, catching up to him. Your voice is tight. You're not trying to fight, but it’s already started to sound like one.

He keeps walking. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop.

"Sabo," you call again.

Nothing.

So you try again. Louder. Sharper. "Sabo!"

Still nothing.

It’s not just coldness. It’s control. Deliberate. Like he’s keeping the space between you on purpose, like if he lets you in now, something might break that he won’t be able to put back together.

And something inside you snaps.

You don’t think. You close the distance in a few angry steps, grab the front of his coat, and yank him back hard enough that he finally stops, startled.

And then you kiss him.

It’s not planned. Not smooth. It hits fast, rushed, like a question you couldn’t keep inside anymore.

Your mouth crashes into his, too sudden and too close. Your hands twist tighter in his coat, holding him there. His breath hitches, caught somewhere between protest and surprise. You feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body almost jerks like he’s about to pull away.

But then, slowly, his mouth moves against yours.

His lips part just enough to fit the shape of you. He matches the pace. Eases into it like he’s tasting something he wasn’t sure he’d ever be allowed to have.

He exhales into the kiss. You feel it — the warm drag of his breath brushing against your skin, into your mouth. One of his hands rises and settles carefully along the side of your face, his thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. The touch is steady, grounding. His other arm slips around your waist, anchoring you in place like he needs to know you won’t vanish the moment this ends.

You pull him closer.

The kiss changes. It gets harder. Messier.

His mouth opens wider against yours, and yours does too. It’s hot and searching, not delicate — like he’s been holding this in for too long and now he doesn’t want to waste a second of it. You meet him halfway, pushing into it, kissing him like there’s something you’re still trying to prove.

YYou taste the sharp edge of heat on his breath. The frustration. The ache. His hand slides down your back, gripping your waist firmly, like he doesn’t trust this to last unless he holds on tighter.

Your hands are still curled in his coat, holding on like you're scared he’ll slip away again. You push forward, closing the space until there’s nothing left but heat and pressure and the way his lips part for you again.

The tension that’s been building for days cracks open between you. The distance. The silence. All of it burns through your mouth as you pour it into the kiss. He kisses like he’s angry. Like he’s trying to forget something. Like he’s trying to remember everything all at once.

You let him.

You kiss him back with everything you can’t say out loud. Weeks of tension, of silence, of almost. You can’t tell what’s pretend anymore. You don’t care.

Because right now, this isn’t about the plan. It’s not about revenge. It’s not about being seen.

When you finally part, it’s slow. Not careful — reluctant. His breath brushes your lips like he’s not ready to let go. Like he doesn’t know how.

Sabo’s eyes flicker open. He searches your face, like it might tell him something his heart’s badly wanted to believe.

You swallow, trying to breathe through the rush in your chest. “That…”

You can’t finish the sentence. You’re still too close. Still too caught in it.

Sabo steps back, just a little. Just enough to blink the spell away.

“That felt… real,” he says, quiet. Not questioning. Just saying it out loud, like he needed to hear it himself.

You glance away, suddenly too aware of everything. Of how warm your face is. Of how long he’s been pulling away. Of how long you’ve been pretending not to notice.

You nod, almost too small. “It did.”

He watches you a second longer. Then his jaw clenches. “So what was that back at the supply tent?”

Your chest tightens. “You saw?”

“I wasn’t spying,” he says, fast. “I wasn’t trying to—” he exhales. “I just saw it.”

You look down, hands curling into fists. “He cornered me. I didn’t ask for that.”

“But you didn’t push him away either.”

“I did,” you say quickly, eyes snapping back to his. “You didn’t stay long enough to see it.”

Sabo’s expression shifts, just a flicker — like he’s replaying what he saw, realizing how little of it he actually stayed for.

“I froze. I didn’t hug him back. I didn’t even move. I just stood there, thinking how… I didn’t care anymore. About getting a reaction. About proving anything to him.”

Your voice steadies, a little sharper. “I didn’t want it.”

Sabo doesn’t look away.

“Then what do you want?” he asks, low, steady, almost careful— like he’s scared to say the words too loudly in case they break.

You look at him. Really look at him. His brows are drawn together, his eyes fixed on you, waiting like your answer might change everything. And maybe it will.

“I want you."

It’s not dramatic. It’s not loud. But something in Sabo breaks open.

His eyes widen a little, searching your face as if he’s waiting for the punchline or the retraction or the part where you take it back. But you don’t. You just stand there, steady, and you let the truth settle between you.

His shoulders drop like he’s been holding his breath for days and didn’t realize it until now. Then a laugh escapes him, soft and disbelieving, and he steps closer without hesitation.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile. “I want you.”

This time, he laughs fully — quiet but real, full of relief and warmth. His hands come to rest on your face, thumbs tracing the curve of your cheeks, like he can’t believe you’re real and right in front of him and saying the one thing he never let himself ask for.

“I thought I ruined everything,” he says. “That I pushed you too far.”

“You didn’t,” you whisper.

His forehead presses gently against yours. His smile hasn’t faded, and there’s something in his eyes that looks like wonder. Like he still doesn’t quite believe you chose him. That you’re choosing him now.

“I kept telling myself it was fake,” he admits. “That it was just for the mission. That it couldn’t mean what I wanted it to mean.”

Your hand curls around his wrist. “It meant everything to me.”

Sabo lets out a shaky breath that turns into a laugh again — short, amazed, like he doesn’t know what to do with this much happiness.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he says. “You… want me?”

You nod, steady. “Not just for the mission. Not for appearances. Just you.”

He kisses you again. This time it’s not rushed or angry or confused. It’s gentle. Sure. Full of everything he’s been too scared to say — and everything he’s finally ready to believe.

You feel him smile against your lips.

And for once, there's nothing left to pretend.

----

The fire’s burning low. Camp’s quieter than usual. Mission’s done, reports filed, and for once, nobody’s running drills or sharpening knives or yelling across tents. People are gathered in clusters, nursing mugs and leaning into the quiet.

You’re sitting beside Sabo. No space between you this time. Your knee rests against his. His hand is loosely wrapped around yours, thumb brushing slow, lazy circles into your skin.

It’s nothing loud. Nothing bold.

But everyone sees it.

Koala pauses mid-story, eyes flicking down at your joined hands. Her brows rise, then fall, and she smirks to herself before continuing. Hack barely blinks. Betty offers a low whistle. Nobody makes a scene. They just… notice.

Because for weeks it was performance. For weeks, it was a lie too good to look fake.

And now?

Now it’s real. Which somehow makes it quieter. Softer. Steadier.

Sabo leans in slightly, mouth near your ear. “You realize they’re all watching, right?”

“They’ve always been watching.”

“True,” he says, then adds with a smile, “Guess we’re giving them a better show now.”

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you. That same expression you’re still getting used to—unshielded, sure, like he’s finally let himself want this without checking over his shoulder first.

You smile back. “I like this version better.”

He brushes his lips against your temple. No mission. No target. No anger left to burn through.

Just warmth. Just real. Just him.

[ooffmlsorry]

60 year old zoro for the @zoroartcollab

[ooffmlsorry]

a wiwi for birthday…………..

[ooffmlsorry]

That was not on Rosinante's list of things he thought Law would be using his Devil Fruit for

[ooffmlsorry]

hi! can i request a romantic sanji x gender neutral reader where the reader has a long day of work or smthng and just immediately goes to sanji and he helps them wind down with food, cuddles, etc?

♨︎ cherished moments !

pairing: sanji x gn!reader (established relationship)

note: what is there to despair when sanji exists? he would definitely invite you over every day, let's be real

Despite how excited you were earlier in the week when Sanji invited you over for the weekend, that same enthusiasm had disappeared before you even finished your last task for the week. It was the only thing you were looking forward to, but work had sucked the life out of you and the only thing that was on your mind was rest. Unsurprisingly though, when you walked out of your workplace, your special someone was already waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers…

“Mon amour, how was work?” Sanji asked, but before he even finished his sentence, he could tell that you were exhausted. You gave him a weak smile before he embraced you gently, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Just leave it to me, mon cheri.”

He isn’t joking at all  when he says this. He takes care of any bags you are holding swiftly, opens the passenger door if he’s driving, or takes your hand if the two of you are walking home. He even offers to carry you on his back if it seems like you could use the break!

When the two of you arrive at his place, he helps you take off your shoes and puts away any jackets or bags you took with you. If your first instinct is to freshen up, he’s right behind you! Sanji loves to help you unwind by washing your hair, doing your skincare routine, or even helping you shower if you let him (though beware, he is very much in love with all of you.)

If you need a moment to yourself, he takes that time to prepare a meal for the two of you. Noticing how exhausted you are, he makes something that helps fulfill your energy, and a light refreshing dessert to put a smile on your face. If you have any specific requests, he’ll make it without any complaints, but usually, he can read your mind when it comes to food.

After dinner is over, the two of you sit comfortably together, maybe watching a movie or chatting together about the week. Sanji keeps you close, allowing you to rest on his chest while he lays down. He rubs your back softly, tending to any spots that are a little more tense than others. His voice is tender when he speaks and his eyes are full of hearts every time he looks at you. You may be absolutely wrecked from the entire week, but it’s quiet moments like these that Sanji cherishes the most.

[ooffmlsorry]

— “ 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐒 ! ”

FEAT; monster trio + ace x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS; there’s a million cliche romance tropes out there — but which ones would they have?

CW; mention of planes in luffys part, does op have airports hell if i know, i can’t think of anything else this is purely fluff

NOTE; first post kinda nervy😓requests are open and veery highly encouraged rn!!! so. anyway enough yap enjoy and please send requests

LUFFY — RUNNING THROUGH AN AIRPORT

You were supposed to be part of his crew. So why, why were you leaving? It was completely and utterly random—you seemed happy enough with the crew, always all smiles and radiating with joy.

Which is why, when he heard about the news of your leave, it left him nothing short of shocked. But Luffy wasn’t one to give up, and especially not on you; he wasn’t going to take anyone else to fill in a position that was made to be yours. After all, what was the point of being King of the Pirates if you weren’t there with him?

The day your flight was supposed to happen, you left the crew behind with a bitter goodbye—and Luffy could tell with just a brief look into your eye that this was the last thing you wanted to do. But for some reason, no matter how much he bargained, you just wouldn’t budge.

It wasn’t until your plane was supposed to board that he became desperate.

“Did they tell you which terminal they were going to?” Luffy asked Nami, his fingers digging into his palm. He was going to bring you back — it wasn’t a matter of how, but when. He was sure of that.

Nami hummed. “Yeah. A23.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

Luffy immediately took off for your terminal, swerving through airport security and yelling out a “sorry” whenever he bumped into someone in the midst of his rush. There would be time for him to worry about the consequences later (though, he definitely won’t regardless—he never does). 

He follows the signs littered throughout the hallways. He looks for the letter A, which thankfully is the very first one. The numbers go up one by one, and Luffy can tell that time is running out. 

“Flight A23 is now boarding economy class passengers. Please make your way onto the plane.”

The sound of the monotone lady talking through the speakers is ringing through Luffy’s head, and he starts running even faster. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23–

There. You’re there.

He spots you talking to the flight attendant at the front, showing her your ticket and Luffy feels nothing short of a rush of emotions. This was it—all or nothing.

“[NAAAMEEE]!” He screams, not caring for all the heads that turn around to face him except for yours. All he needs is yours. And when you do, a shocked expression immediately showing through your feature, Luffy already knows he’s won.

“Luffy? What—why’re you here?” you ask, voice breathless and full of confusion. You don’t seem to care about everybody watching either.

“Come back to the crew! I know this isn’t what you want! Everybody—everybody is waiting for you back at the ship!” he yells, and you feel yours burn with tears threatening to shed. “The whole crew needs you. So just come back!”

You’re not sure what it is—a part of you wants to argue, tell him to go back and mind his own business. But when he ran all the way here to your terminal, showing you just how much you mean to both him and the crew, how could you ever bring yourself to refuse?

ZORO — GOING STILL WHEN YOU SLEEP ON THEIR SHOULDER

It wasn’t uncommon for Zoro to take the duty of the night shifts. It was an unspoken responsibility he had given to himself because he felt he needed to take care of the whole crew anyway. He trusted them wholeheartedly, sure, but if it fell into anyone’s hands he would rather it be him. These night shifts were the reason he was usually so tired in the morning, spending his day sleeping more than anything else.

Today, though, you had decided to make the impulsive decision of joining Zoro in his night shift. It was somewhat of a habit, but not really. There was no pattern, you’d just randomly choose to keep him company on days when you felt like it—and this happened to be one of those days.

The both of you were up in the crows nest, watching the waves idly pass by. Out at sea, there wasn’t any light pollution. You could easily see the stars and every bit of color in the sky.

“So…you’re just gonna sit there?” Zoro asks, confusion written all over his face. He was up lifting weights to the side, and most of the ones he owned were heavier than you could ever imagine.

You shrug. “I didn’t come here to be productive.”

Zoro only sighs in response, switching to carry his weight with only one hand and narrowing his sharp eyes at you. “Then why’re you in here? You’re not really keeping watch, either.”

“Your company.”

Zoro blinks at your blunt answer. Once. Twice. “…Oh. Fine, then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before he huffs and sets the weight down on the floor, walking to sit beside you. His cheeks are dusted a light pink, barely noticeable unless you really, really squinted.

Conversation starts to strike up naturally, like it always has. Funny stories from past adventures, little facts about the other crew members, and before you know it, your eyes start to feel a little droopy. 

Zoro notices, of course. But before he can make a comment about it, offering to carry you back to bed while he takes over the rest of the night watch, your head lands on his shoulder and he immediately freezes up.

“Oi, [Name]…are you asleep?” he asks, voice quiet as if he already knows the answer. You’re totally, utterly, knocked out, and now there’s no way he’s going to be able to move for the rest of the night.

Sure, he could just gently tap you awake and force you back into the girls room, but when you just look so comfortable and cozy…how could he bring himself to do such a thing?

So, no, he doesn’t move an inch—for the rest of the night. And by the time the crew finds the both of you in the morning, you’re still laying on Zoro’s shoulder and he’s asleep too, head laying on top of yours.

SANJI — SHARING AN UMBRELLA

It was in Sanji’s nature to be a gentleman. Through and through, to the core, Sanji was a gentleman—and he prided himself in that simple fact. To many people, he was regarded and considered as the ideal, perfect man; which made a whole lot of sense.

The crew had recently docked at an island known for its unpredictable weather changes—even Nami could barely tell when a storm was rolling through. So when you were shopping around the many stores around town, it wasn’t very surprising when you suddenly felt a drop of water land on your head.

“It’s raining,” you point out. The rain wasn’t anything too terrible—you’re sure if you walked back to the ship now you wouldn’t even be soaked. 

Sanji, though, wasn’t having any of it. If he let you get any more wet than you are now, he would have completely failed his duty as a gentleman. At least, that’s how he sees it—true or not. 

“[Name]-san, I’ll shield you with my body!” he bravely declares, holding his arms and legs out with his back facing the direction the rain was pelting you from.

“…Right, or we can just head into this store!” you reason, walking directly past him and pushing open the door of one of the nearby stores. Here, at least, the roof could make for an actually effective shield.

The cashier who you presume to be the owner doesn’t seem to mind, gladly welcoming the both of you in.

“Uhm…hi,” you politely but awkwardly greet, Sanji standing behind you like a guard dog. “Do you know when this rain is supposed to stop?”

The man shakes his head. “No, the weather conditions can’t be foreseen here. It could be an hour, or a few days. But I have a spare umbrella lying around if you want to use it,” he offers, searching the shelves under the register for where the umbrella was placed.

When he found it, he put it in Sanji’s hands. “Take this and head home. This is the only spare one I have, but…it’s better than nothing. Be careful on your way back, okay?”

The two of you nod and turn around to leave, giving your thanks to the kind owner. Sanji passes you the umbrella and says, “You have it. I can’t let the rain soil your outfit.”

You tilt your head. “Thanks for the offer, but we can just share.” Your hands fiddle with the buttons on the umbrella, and when it finally opens up, you hand it back to Sanji and stand under the umbrella as well—close enough that your shoulders touch.

Sanji’s shocked, but he doesn’t want to turn down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this one—who would, if you were the one asking? 

So without another word, and very quickly, Sanji agrees. 

The walk back to the ship is nice, filled with small talk—and when you get back, the crew notes that Sanji is acting just a little more giddy than usual.

ACE — ONE BED

“…Whitebeard didn’t tell me that this was the arrangement,” you say, and Ace responds with just as much confusion.

“Yeah. That’s ’cause it’s not.”

You and Ace were ordered by Whiteheard himself to dock at this island and he even went as far as to have someone reserve a room for you in this specific hotel. Was it a mistake, or a set up? To be honest, you didn’t even know. 

“Do you want to go ask the lady at the front to change our room?” you question, scratching the back of your head as you watch Ace plop down onto the mattress with a sigh and without a care.

“Nah, it’s not that big of a deal. You can take the bed and I’ll take the floor. There’s a sleeping bag in the—“

Before he can get out even a single other word, you quickly cut him off. This habit of his, to neglect his personal needs for the comfort of others—especially you—pissed you off to absolutely no end.

“No.” Blunt and forward. No. He could never argue with you when your tone turned like that, but it was obvious that today he finally got the guts to try.

“What do you mean, no? I’m trying to be a nice guy! There’s no way you’re taking the floor, [name],” Ace countered, stubbornly crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“None of us have to sleep on the floor! The bed is big enough for us to share.”

It’s true, the bed was relatively big—like two twin size beds were mashed and blended together.

Ace’s entire face turns red at the thought, and you notice a few of the flames that flickered on his body when you mentioned that possibility. 

“Well, okay. Since you said it’s fine…”

Night rolls around relatively quickly. The two of you were laying on opposite sides of the bed. Nothing stood between you—not even pillows—just the trust and faith you had in each other to act like a decently mannered human being.

All the lights were turned off except for the dim coming from the bathroom, the only light you decided to keep open. The only sound that you heard was the shuffling of the sheets when Ace twisted and turned, and the low hum of the air conditioner filling the room with cold air.

Way too cold.

Ace must’ve caught it, because he asks, “…Are you cold?”

You chuckle awkwardly. “A little bit…is it that obvious? And what about you?”

“Pretty obvious—but I’m doing fine. Since, y’know…I’m made of fire.”

You hum and nod, but there’s obviously tension in the air. Ace knows what you want to ask, and you know what Ace wants to offer—but the both of you are too much of some cowards to say it.

It’s not until a full minute of silence and straight staring has passed that Ace speaks up. “Lay on me.”

It’s not really a question, but not a demand either. His tone isn’t forceful, and it obviously leaves you for a choice—though, “no” was never in the picture anyway.

You scoot closer to him, and him to you, and before you know it, your body temperature is quickly rising and you feel warm. You couldn’t even tell if it was from his natural body heat or just how nervous he made you.

But regardless, that night was the most comfortable sleep you’ve had in a long time—and you’re sure Ace feels the same.

[ooffmlsorry]

You Kiss Like Trouble

Ace’s habit of kissing you at the worst possible moments—mid-battle or mid-party—sparks playful chaos and heartfelt moments aboard the Moby Dick.

ace x gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, flirting, teasing, established relationship, kissing a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 2k

masterlist | ko-fi

The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the sea in shades of gold and crimson as the Moby Dick rocked gently on the waves. The Whitebeard Pirates were in high spirits, fresh off a successful raid against a no name crew, their laughter and clinking mugs echoing across the deck. You leaned against the railing, the salty breeze tugging at your hair, watching the chaos unfold with a fond smile. Your boyfriend, Portgas D. Ace, was at the center of it all, naturally—shirtless, as usual, his freckled chest gleaming under the fading sunlight as he arm-wrestled Thatch for the last drumstick.

“Oi, Y/N!” Ace called, his voice cutting through the din as he pinned Thatch’s arm to the table with a triumphant grin. “You gonna cheer for your man or what?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “I’d cheer if you weren’t cheating, hotshot.”

“Cheating?!” Ace gasped, clutching his chest dramatically as Thatch groaned and rubbed his sore wrist. “baby, you wound me!”

The crew roared with laughter, and you couldn’t help but grin. Ace’s theatrics were as much a part of him as his flames, and you’d long since learned to roll with them. Your relationship with the Second Division Commander was a whirlwind of teasing, affection, and chaos—a perfect match for the fiery troublemaker who’d stolen your heart.

As the celebration continued, Ace sauntered over, slinging an arm around your shoulders. His skin was warm, as always, radiating heat like a living furnace. “Miss me?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

You tilted your head to meet his dark eyes, smirking. “You were literally ten feet away, Ace.”

“And yet,” he said, leaning closer, “it felt like an eternity without you.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully. “You’re so full of it.”

“Only for you,” he winked, and before you could retort, he pressed a quick, soft kiss to your forehead. It was a fleeting gesture, but it sent a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Ace had a habit of kissing you in the most unexpected moments—forehead, cheeks, nose, wherever he could land one. It was endearing, infuriating, and entirely him.

“Get a room, you two!” Marco called from across the deck, his lazy drawl laced with amusement.

“Jealous, Marco?” Ace shot back, grinning as he pulled you closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll save a kiss for you later.”

The First Division Commander chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll pass-yoi.”

The night wore on, and as the crew’s energy mellowed, you and Ace found a quiet corner of the deck. You sat cross-legged on a crate, while Ace sprawled out beside you, his head resting on your thigh. The stars were beginning to peek through the twilight sky, and the gentle lapping of waves against the ship created a soothing backdrop.

“You ever gonna stop kissing me in front of everyone?” you asked, running your fingers through his dark hair.

Ace cracked one eye open, his lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Why would I? Gotta show the world you’re mine.”

You flicked his forehead lightly. “Possessive much?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he said, catching your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Besides...you love it.”

You huffed, but you couldn’t deny the truth in his words. There was something about Ace’s unapologetic affection that made your heart race, even after all this time. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered.

“Cute?” he echoed, sitting up suddenly. “I’m devastatingly handsome, thank you very much.”

You laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that, Fire Fist.”

He gasped, clutching his heart again. “You’re brutal tonight, Y/N. I’m gonna need some serious TLC to recover from this.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Better?”

Ace’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Not quite.” Before you could react, he cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, his lips warm and firm against yours. It was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that made the world fade away. When he finally pulled back, you were both a little breathless.

“Better now?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

“Much,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But I might need a few more to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist as he kissed you again, this time on the corner of your mouth. “You’re impossible,” you said between kisses, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

“And you love it,” he repeated, his voice low and teasing.

The next morning, the Moby Dick was abuzz with preparations for a potential skirmish. Some pirate crew had been spotted nearby, and Whitebeard had ordered the crew to stay on high alert. You were in the armory, checking your weapons, when Ace strolled in, his trademark grin firmly in place.

“Morning, beautiful,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

You glanced up from sharpening your dagger, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the cannons or something?”

“Probably,” he admitted, sauntering over. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

You shook your head, trying to focus on your task. “You’re gonna get us both in trouble, Ace.”

“Trouble’s my middle name,” he said, and before you could protest, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, his lips lingering just long enough to make your pulse jump.

“Ace!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. “We’re in the middle of prep!”

“What?” he said innocently, stepping back with his hands raised. “Just giving my favorite person a little morale boost.”

You pointed your dagger at him, narrowing your eyes. “Do that again, and I’ll morale-boost you right into the sea.”

He laughed, undeterred, and blew you a kiss as he backed out of the room. “Love you too, Y/N!”

You groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips. Damn him and his charm.

The skirmish came sooner than expected. By midday, some crew’s ship was bearing down on the Moby Dick, cannons roaring. The deck erupted into controlled chaos as Whitebeard’s crew sprang into action. You were in the thick of it, wielding your weapon with precision, fending off attackers alongside your crewmates.

Ace, of course, was a whirlwind of fire and fury, his flames lighting up the battlefield as he took down enemies with ease. You caught glimpses of him through the fray, his grin as wild as ever, like he was having the time of his life.

You were locked in combat with a burly swordsman when you felt a familiar presence at your back. Before you could turn, Ace’s voice was in your ear, low and playful. “Looking good out here, Y/N.”

“Are you serious right now?!” you shouted, parrying a strike from your opponent.

“Dead serious,” he said, and then—to your absolute disbelief—he grabbed your waist, spun you around, and planted a quick kiss on your forehead before dodging a sword swing aimed at his head.

“Ace, what the hell?!” you yelled, shoving him away as you refocused on your attacker.

“Motivation!” he called, already sprinting toward another group of enemies, flames trailing in his wake.

You cursed under your breath, but there was no time to dwell on it. The battle raged on, and you fought with renewed vigor, partly fueled by exasperation at your boyfriend’s antics. By the time the no name crew retreated, their ship limping away in defeat, you were sweaty, bruised, and ready to strangle Ace.

You found him leaning against a mast, wiping soot from his face. “So,” he said, grinning as you approached, “how’d I do?”

You crossed your arms, glaring. “You kissed me. In the middle of a battle.”

He shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Kept you on your toes, didn’t it?”

“I could’ve been stabbed!”

“Nah,” he said, stepping closer. “I’d never let that happen.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off with another kiss—this one on your lips, quick and fierce. “...You’re cute when you’re mad,” he said Lillolled, pulling back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, but your anger was already fading.

“Unbelievably charming?” he offered, wagging his eyebrows.

“...Unbelievably annoying,” you shot back, but you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

That night, the crew celebrated their victory with a feast. The deck was alive with music, laughter, and the clatter of plates as Thatch served up a mountain of food. You sat beside Ace, who was predictably stealing bites from your plate.

“Hey! you have your own food,” you said, swatting his hand.

“Yours tastes better,” he said with a grin, popping a piece of meat into his mouth.

You sighed, but there was no real heat behind it. Ace’s arm was slung over the back of your chair, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your shoulder. Every now and then, he’d lean over to kiss your cheek or temple, each one earning a mix of groans and cheers from the crew.

“Oi, Ace, give it a rest!” Haruta called, tossing a roll at him.

Ace caught it midair, took a bite, and smirked. “Can’t help it. My girl’s too kissable.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Good,” he said, kissing your forehead again. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Marco, sitting across from you, shook his head. “You two are disgusting-yoi.”

“Says the guy who’s jealous,” Ace teased, dodging a napkin Marco threw at him.

As the night wound down, you and Ace slipped away to the bow of the ship, where the noise of the party was a distant hum. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the moonlit sea, while Ace stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You know,” you said, leaning back against him, “one of these days, your kissing habit’s gonna get us in real trouble.”

“Worth it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “Every kiss with you is worth a little trouble.”

You turned in his arms, looking up at him. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere. He kissed you again, slow and deep, and this time, you didn’t protest. The world could wait a little longer.

The next few days were quieter, the crew taking time to recover and repair the ship. You and Ace spent most of your free time together, whether it was sparring on the deck, sneaking into the kitchen to steal Thatch’s snacks, or just lounging in the sun. Ace’s kisses never stopped—on your cheek while you were reading, on your nose while you were tying a knot, on your lips when no one was looking. Each one was a spark, a reminder of how much he cared.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the crow’s nest, enjoying a rare moment of solitude, when Ace climbed up to join you. He plopped down beside you, his hat dangling from its string around his neck.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” he said, leaning back on his hands.

“Needed a break from your face,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Liar,” he said, grinning. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “You can’t resist me.”

You laughed, pushing him away halfheartedly. “You’re relentless.”

“Relentlessly in love with you,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He must’ve noticed your expression, because he softened, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah...I know.”

He kissed you again, gentle and lingering, and you melted into it. For all his teasing and chaos, moments like this reminded you of the depth of his feelings. Ace was a lot of things—reckless, wild, infuriating—but he was also yours, heart and soul.

As you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he murmured.

“Says the guy who kisses me in the middle of a fight,” you shot back.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “Fair enough. Guess we’re both trouble.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Good thing I like trouble.”

The days turned into weeks, and the Moby Dick sailed on, chasing adventure and freedom. Ace’s kisses never stopped being a source of chaos—whether it was a quick peck during a card game or a stolen makeout session in the storage room—but you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was your wildfire, your trouble, your home.

And every kiss was a promise that he’d always be there, burning bright.

[ooffmlsorry]

zoro is not a man of many words, showing his love and affection for you through his actions. he looks out for you, always making sure you're within his line of sight. he will scoop your favourite foods onto your plate from his own. wherever you go, he's always got a hand on your waist, following you and staring viciously at anyone that dares look at you for too long.

even though you tell him that he does enough, he doesn't think so. you show your love so freely and he's never doubted where he stands in your life. he wishes he was more expressive but it doesn't come about naturally to him. so tonight, he thinks he's come up with a way for him to show you that you're the only one is his eyes.

he's laying on his bed, you straddling his lap as you go on about the day you had — going shopping with nami and robin and the sweet confectionaries you got to taste while exploring the town. he listens to every word you say intently, his fingers tracing faint circles on your waist.

as you speak, he reaches a hand to your ear and slowly and gently takes out the pretty earring you're wearing — a pearlescent heart shaped one that he had gifted you for your birthday. you're yapping had come to a stop as you watch him curiously, wondering what it is he's doing with that piece of jewellery.

not saying a word, he takes out one of his gold dangly earrings and then pierces it through the hole where he had just taken out your own earring. he then puts your heart earring where his gold one used to hang, its shine contrasting with the rust of the other two.

for a few moments he says nothing, simply admiring you with the way the moonlight pours in through the window and how it illuminates your features. then, in a soft voice, he says, "so you'll always have a piece of me. and i'll always have a piece of you."

your heart flutters at his words, an amorous blooming within your chest. your fingers lightly graze the new piece of jewellery that hangs on your earlobes and you can't help the faint pink that dusts your cheeks. you lean forward and place a tender kiss to his lips, which he returns with just the same gentleness, the action a silent display of the heart you hold for each other.

[ooffmlsorry]

·˚ ༘ sanji is such a gentleman . . .

fingers entwined in your locks, twirling them as to release his stress while his hand rested on your thigh.

“are you okay, angel?” his voice was soft and steady, blowing smoke in the cool air of the night. you nodded, blushing hard as ever at his words. he’s always been like this, kind-hearted and loving, always using every sort of names for you.

“if you wanna eat something i can cook for you, you know that. mon amour” he looked in your direction, the wind moving his blond hair and revealing both of his eyes, cigarette still resting on his lips. “thank you, there’s no need to.” you shake your head, smiling shyly. you still had to get used to those names that made your heart flutter everytime he used them.

“anything for my girl.” he winked jokingly, leaving a hot kiss on your already warm cheek.

oh, he’s so dreamy. . .

[ooffmlsorry]

Kisses and Coconuts

a/n: July 5th /Beach Day/ Work is stressing me out so bad I barely have the energy to think of anything else than numbers and deadlines. Wish I was on a beach rn 🥺 (preferably also kissing Law)

read on ao3

WC: 2.7k

Waves rolled into the shoreline leisurely and a gentle breeze made the unrelenting heat bearable. The Thousand Sunny was rocking smoothly back and forth on the water in the distance. The sun was still high up in the sky, not a single cloud in sight and if he closed his eyes Law could almost pretend everything was fine.

Under different circumstances he would have thought of the scenery as peaceful. But the circumstances were not different and, unfortunately, there was only so much peace and quiet one could have with the Straw Hats. Which was none, to be precise.

Kikoku leaned against the trunk of a palm tree beside him, his arms were crossed over his bare chest. It was so intolerably hot, he even left his hat on board the ship. A mistake, as he realised the moment you spotted his mess of a hair and he could read you well enough by now to know you were itching to rake your hands through it. So he'd booked it and searched a shady place as far away from you as possible.

Not only because you were an insufferably touchy person, but also because he tended to feel the oddest of ways in your presence. You were deeply unnerving. Even more so than the skeleton. Or Luffy himself, but that one was a whole other disaster Law couldn't wait to get away from.

Without his permission, his eyes trailed the shoreline, catching on your body by the water. You were splayed out on a towel, Nami and Robin beside you as well. How you managed to nap with all the bickering and elated screaming around you was beyond him. He'd never manage to shut an eye with everything that was going on with these absolute degenerates of a crew.

They were a mess in his eyes. An arguably very well working mess, but a catastrophe in the making none the less. But despite everything, Law was glad to be on their good side. Even if it meant being subject to countless tries of their captain wanting to recruit him, or the green-haired swordsman constantly trying to get his hands on Kikoku.

The Straw Hats were an odd bunch. But one he'd grown irritatingly fond of, not that he would ever admit that.

You stirred, long legs stretching into the sand. Sanji was by your side in an instant, offering you God knows what but you declined and Law despised the swell of satisfaction welling up in his chest. He hated this, that you made him feel things. Things he'd long thought so deeply buried they were impossible to unearth again. But you had done it with an ease that was scary.

Had dug up pieces of his soul armed with the kind of smile that made his chest feel tight instead of a shovel and soft whispers of touches instead of blunt force to crack open the surface. With every accidental brush of a hand, every crinkle in the corners of your eyes you had put cracks in his carefully crafted walls and if he wasn't careful enough Law thought the next time you laughed in his direction the sound alone would tear them down like a wrecking ball.

He couldn't even say how it got this far. One moment he was so put off by your whole personality he heavily considered throwing himself off the railing, the next he caught himself hoping to sit next to you at dinner again because that one time you'd leaned into him a little too much and he hated it a lot less than he should have.

You sat with him when he would rather be alone until he wished you'd never leave his side again. Listened to his silence when he sat on deck at night because sleep evaded him again and filled it with terrible jokes and small anecdotes about your own life.

And then there were the times you would touch him. So casually, so naturally as if you had been close friends for years. As if he wasn't the captain of a rival crew and you weren't teamed up with the most obnoxiously selfless person he'd ever met.

Law didn't like anyone else's hands on his body, most times not even his own. A bad habit he kept from his childhood. The first time you hugged him he nearly had a panic attack. The second time he saw it coming but still went as rigid as a tree. By the third he finally had the nerve to tell you to stop, even if he didn't fully mean it anymore.

When he caught his lips threatening to tip up at the corners to the thought of you he knew he was well and truly fucked.

For a man like him, used to pitiless cold, there simply was no place in the unwavering warmth of a person like you.

"Stop brooding and relax for once, Law." Startled, he looked up from where his feet had absentmindedly dug holes into the soft the sand in front of him. There was only one person whose voice wrapped around his name like silk. You stood with your hands on your hips, eyes like the sea at calm. The type of smile that he was sure would haunt him once your paths inevitably diverged again decorated your plush lips.

Law needed a moment to remember words.

"I am relaxing," he lied. He didn't know how to do that anymore. Had left that ability behind somewhere in Flevance. There were always things to stress about, even after taking care of Doflamingo. Like scheming to take on an emperor. Finding a new purpose in life.

Bepo.

How to make his heart stop racing away from his chest when you looked at him like that.

"You're as far from relaxed as Zoro is from having a sense of direction." You called him out without missing a beat and the sharpness of your eyes made heat creep up his neck. "Come on, join us. Company will do you good." It probably wouldn't but everyday it got a little harder to say no to you.

You held out a hand he didn't take but the defeated sigh rolling from his mouth was enough to seal your victory.

One thing Law had quickly learned from travelling with Luffy and his natural calamity of a crew was that no one was left out of anything. He was going to be integrated, if he wanted to or not. And you were pretty persistent in making sure he couldn't weasel his way out of group activities. Even if it was just sharing a cup of sake before going back to stewing in his thoughts.

"Look who I brought." You presented him to the group, who'd gathered in a circle by the water like he was the most valuable treasure you had ever gotten your hands on. Grin so bright it rivalled a pile of diamonds. Law attempted to look unbothered when you pushed him down onto your towel by the shoulders and it almost worked until you settled next to him, bare skin brushing his in too may places to allow his brain to function.

It was quiet for the most uncomfortable fraction of a second. Then a bottle of liquor was pushed into his hands, Sanji and Zoro continued bickering, Usopp was betting Luffy on how many crab cakes he could cram into his mouth at once. Brook was strumming a chord on his guitar. It was chaotic. Overwhelming. Homely.

You nudged Law in the side with your elbow, encouraging him to talk to Robin with a subtle nod. He had wanted to strike up a conversation with the historian for a while now but never seemed to find the right moment. Or the nerve.

Before he knew it, he was tipsy and knee deep in a discussion about the diversity of literature in the Northblue. Hours passed exchanging medical knowledge with Chopper, he found himself promising to show him his operation room on the Polar Tang sometime and even granted Zoro a quick glance at his sword. Supervised. No touching.

He didn't notice you get up to stroll along the beach with Nami until he placed his sword in the place you had occupied before.

Within the span of singular heartbeat all the tension was back in his muscles. His head swivelled left to right almost frantically and he only realised he was holding his breath when he spotted you in the distance, skin glowing golden in the setting sun. You threw your head back at something the other woman said, the sound ringing all the way back to where he sat.

Law exhaled sharply. It was pathetic, really. He was ridiculous. Hopeless.

Next to him he thought he heard Robin stifle a laugh. "For all it's worth," she said, " just know she likes you too."

"Excuse me?"

"You may not see it, but to us it's obvious." Robin cocked her head to the side, raven hair fluttering in a mild gust of wind. Her smile took on a threatening edge. "If you hurt her I will personally carve out the marrow from your bones and feed your flesh to the sea monsters."

Law gulped audibly. Around them, the merry atmosphere didn't dim one bit.

You came back a few minutes later, sat down closer than before. He didn't feel like talking anymore, didn't feel like company. Especially not yours. But Sanji had started up a fire and was roasting meet that had even his mouth water and somehow there was always a new, full vessel of booze in his hands, even if he'd wanted to stop drinking three bottles ago. And you were leaning into his side, seeking his warmth as the sunlight waned, cheeks rosy from the liquor.

He'd long stopped paying attention to anything or anyone else around him, mesmerised by the way you radiated comfort. You were an anchor. An anchor with incredibly soft skin he unexplainably was itching to let his hands skim over and lips he longed to know the taste of. He was fully aware of the fact that he was staring at you like a creep but he couldn't seem to stop. And the more he got lost in you, the more he began to understand that it would rip him apart if, no, when, the time came to say goodbye.

Abruptly Law stood, taking his drink with him instead of his sword. Choosing the cold instead of warmth.

He barely made it more than a few steps from the fireplace when he felt your presence at his back, heard his name fall from your mouth laced with a bit too much emotion for his current state. You caught up.

He pulled away from your touch as if burned. As if he couldn't bare having to remember this when you were miles away and he couldn't rely on you to fix him.

"What's wrong?" He could see the effort it was taking you to not reach out for him again in your big, round eyes. Worry swirling in them like a vortex strong enough to pull him under. After a day in the sun your freckles stood out more prominently, he noticed up close. "Are you alright?"

If he stopped committing every single detail about you to memory now he might stand a chance.

"Yes," he was going for nonchalant. Gruff. Instead his voice came out unsteady. Unstable like the rest of him.

You arched a brow, clocking all the bullshit excuses he came up with before he had a chance of voicing them. With a single nod you signalled him to follow you along the beach. Helpless to deny you, Law complied.

It was useless to get him to talk when he didn't want to, so you allowed him a bit of quiet contemplation and hoped he wouldn't run as soon as you opened your mouth. "Something's bothering you." Law sighed next to you. Not annoyed, not sad. Just a bit…burdened. "I'm always bothered."

You huffed a quiet laugh and veered off the path to sit on the curve of a palm's trunk. Law sat beside you after a couple moments in which he looked suspiciously like he was going to make a run for it.

The air had cooled quite a bit but the sand was still warm underneath his toes. On the horizon the vast ocean mirrored the mix of light pink and deep purple the setting sun painted the skyline with.

Law closed his eyes, dragged air into his lungs, straightened his shoulders. Then pushed all his nervousness and the doubt and the tension out with one deep exhale. There were words on the tip of his tongue that threatened to spill without permission. Thoughts that threatened to weave into sentences. Unfiltered. Possibly dangerous for his dignity.

When he opened his eyes again, you were closer than he remembered. Breath caught in his chest, along with every possible way to paraphrase the words 'I am deeply, unhealthily, madly in love with you'. You leaned in so close he could almost taste you and his heart lodged in his throat like a boulder.

Your lips brushed his in the barest ghost of a touch.

He froze.

The moment didn't last longer than a second, but for Law it dragged out like ten eternities. Your eyes fluttered shut, his stayed wide open. Panicked almost. The alcohol had made him too slow to react and when he finally realised that this was what he had been longing for, dreaming of, dreaded with every fibre of his being you had already pulled back, hands covering your face in shame.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," you repeated the phrase like a mantra, cheeks as red as the sunset, "I-I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me…I shouldn't hav-"

Law pried your hands away from your face like the gesture personally offended him and clumsily slanted his lips over yours. Like he wasn't quite sure if he was still allowed. If the window was still open.

For an agonising moment you were stone still and he almost feared he'd gravely misjudged something but then your mouth moved against his and it was the best feeling Law had ever experienced. Every inch of skin where your body met his tingled with little fireworks going off in his veins. It was bliss. He was free-falling, drowning, burning up all at the same time.

He released your wrists to pull you into his lap, desperate now to feel as much of you as possible. Desperate to touch. He never knew he needed something as much as this and now that he finally had it, he never wanted to stop.

Your hands found a way into his hair, pulling until he made sounds you wanted to frame and hang up on a wall in your bedroom.

You only broke apart when your lungs ached for oxygen more than you yearned for his mouth on yours. Foreheads pressed together, chests heaving, Law held onto you as if afraid he might wake up and find he all but imagined having you like this.

"You have really nice hair." You broke the silence and for the first time a real laugh spilled over his kiss swollen lips and right into your soul. When he opened his eyes, he looked happy. Genuinely so.

"Is there any chance of you coming with me?" His voice was hopefully hoarse, lips skimming the edge of your jaw. "I don't want to have to leave you. I can't do it."

"I gotta make Luffy pirate king first."

Law groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel him grin against your skin anyway.

"He better hurry up then," he muttered, peppering kisses up and down the column of your throat.

You only headed back once it was dark enough no one immediately spotted the way his hair was all messed up in a way that wasn't from not combing it in the morning or the light marks dotting the side of your neck. His hand was in yours, big and warm and trusting.

"I think Robin threatened to dismember me." Law blurted into the comfortable quiet.

"Good," you mused, "that means she likes you."

[ooffmlsorry]

Hear me out? The monster trio and Law (separately Of course) their girlfriend asks about showering together in the first month of them dating just to get a reaction out of them?🤭

Luffy

It had been a long, hot day. Between exploring, eating, and running around with that boundless energy of his, Luffy was practically radiating warmth. Now the evening had settled in and you spotted him stretched out on the deck, shirt crumpled beside him, skin faintly glistening under the light from dusk.

You wandered over and leaned down beside him, brushing your fingers through his messy black hair.

"You look like you melted." you teased.

"I did! It's hot." he groaned dramatically. "I need a shower bad."

You hesitated for a second, then casually said, "Well...I was thinking of taking one too. Maybe we could save time and go together."

He tilts his head, like he had just heard of this concept for the first time.

"Like, we'll both be in there? At the same time?"

You nod slowly as the gears seem to turn in his head. Suddenly, his eyes widen and his grin stretches from ear to ear.

"Ohh that sounds fun!"

And just like that he took your hand and tugged you along with a spark in his eyes that promised warmth and mischief. You laugh, genuinely amused at his reaction to the idea.

Zoro

Zoro had just finished his workout on the deck of the Sunny. With his shirt off and a towel slung over his shoulder, he walked into the hallway and found you casually leaning against the wall near the bathroom.

"Hey." you told him, a little too enthusiastic. "Wanna shower together?"

He paused mid-step, raising an eyebrow at you. "Huh? You serious?"

His tone was flat, like he couldn't tell if you were being serious or if this was another one of your teasing moments. You didn't laugh, although unbeknownst to him, you were fighting back a grin. You then stood upright and looked him straight in the eye, your voice a tad softer now.

"Yeah. I mean it. Plus, it'll save water, right?"

His brows furrowed a bit but you didn't miss the pink that arose on his cheeks. He looked away for a second, then back again with a low scoff.

"Tch...you really know how to distract a guy."

His eyes narrowed- not in annoyance- but in that sharp focused way when something really got his blood going. His towel slipped from his shoulder as he walked closer, catching it in his hand, eyes still on you.

"Fine by me." he murmured. "Just don't expect me to keep my hands to myself."

You tilted your head up and met his gaze, heart thumping.

"I wasn't expecting you to."

That earned a brief smirk from him. Those rare crooked ones that never stayed long. He grabbed your hand without another word, pulling you in and shutting the door with a soft click.

Sanji

The kitchen is warm and quiet now. Everyone else has long since cleared out, their laughter lingering like the scent of the meal Sanji made. You're perched on a stool near the counter, chin resting in your hand, eyes on him.

Sanji stands at the sink, sleeves rolled up, forearms glistening slightly with water as he dries the last of the dishes. His hair is a bit messy from the heat and motion of the day, but he still looks effortlessly handsome.

You smile to yourself. He hasn't noticed you staring yet- but you haven't said anything either. You're just...waiting. For him.

He turns slightly, reaching for another plate and catching your gaze.

"Have you been sitting here this whole time?"

You shrug playfully, giving him a tired smile. "Mhmm. Figured we could take a shower together."

That gets him. His expression flickers- flattered, touched, a little giddy. He turns back to the sink quickly to hide the way his smile spreads too wide.

"Why must you tempt me like this?"

He dries the plate slower now, dragging it out just a bit, like he wants to linger in your presence longer.

"I thought you'd be done by now."

"I would've finished faster if I had known there was a reward waiting."

He sets the plate down, drapes the towel over his shoulder, and finally turns toward you fully. His steps are easy, relaxed, and his eyes hold something soft. He stops in front of you, brushing a damp hand along your cheek and gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

"Thanks for waiting, love."

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to your lips, full of tired affection.

"Now let me take care of you."

Law

The hum of the submarine surrounded him like white noise, low and steady. Law sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded. His hat was on the nearby desk, forgotten for once, and his hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d run his fingers through it too many times.

He wasn’t working. Wasn’t writing. Just… sitting. Staring at nothing. That distant, unreadable look in his eyes.

You leaned quietly against the doorway, towel slung over your shoulder.

“How long are you gonna sit there before you finally take a shower?”

His head turned slightly, just enough to catch you in his peripheral vision. His voice was low.

“Hm. Didn’t know you were timing me.”

You smirked. “I wasn’t. But you’ve been in the same position for the last hour. I’m pretty sure you’ve stared that wall into submission.”

He exhaled softly, barely a breath of a chuckle. “Maybe.”

You took a few steps in, your tone lighter. “So… when are you gonna get up? Or should I just drag you in there myself?”

He glanced at you again, eyes narrowing slightly—not in irritation, but curiosity.

“Why?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. You hesitated, suddenly aware of how close the question hit.

“I mean…” You shifted your weight to the other foot, trying to play it off. “We could shower together.”

The silence that followed made your heart thud louder in your chest. You tried to laugh it off, tried to keep your tone casual.

“Just a suggestion. To, you know… save water. Be efficient. Environmentally conscious.”

Now he was fully facing you, standing but saying nothing, just watching you with that sharp, unreadable stare of his. And even though he wasn’t saying a word, you could feel your skin warming under the weight of it.

You swallowed. Maybe it was too early. Maybe you’d just made it weird.

He stared at you for a beat longer, golden eyes unreadable. You could see it—the calculation, the war between his usual resistance to anything frivolous and the part of him that wanted to say yes just because it was you.

But then, finally, his gaze softened, just barely. Not enough for most to notice, but you saw it. A flicker of understanding, of amusement… maybe even interest.

You blurted, "You could relax, too."

That pulled something from him. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You want me to relax… by getting naked and boxed into a small space with you?”

You arched a brow. “You scared, Captain?”

That earned a small exhale—half laugh, half surrender. He stood, stretching his stiff neck.

"…Just didn’t expect it from you.”

He came around and stopped beside you, brushing your hand deliberately as he walked by.

“Well?” he said, already moving down the hall. “You coming?”

a/n: to the person that requested this, i am so sorry this took so long to get out!!

[ooffmlsorry]

its summer

[ooffmlsorry]

Map of Love

nami x fem!reader

a chaotic and heartfelt anniversary turns into a sweet treasure hunt of memories, gifts, and kisses—proving that love with nami is always a little messy, but always worth it.

a/n: happy bday my queen nami (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

words count: 2.8k

tags: romance, anniversary, light humor, fluff

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You sit on the deck of the Sunny, swinging your legs and staring at the sea. One week until your first anniversary with Nami. One. Week. And you have no idea what to get her.

“A map?” you whisper to yourself “Too basic.”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What are you muttering about?” Nami walks over, sipping orange juice, sun hitting her hair just right.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, then pause “Actually… Can I ask you something?”

Nami raises an eyebrow “You can. Will I like it? That’s a better question.”

You smile, nervous “If you could get anything for a special day, what would you want?”

“Ohhh?” She smirks “Are you asking because my birthday is coming up?”

“It’s not, though.”

“Right.” She taps her chin “Then… hmm. Anything? That’s a big question.”

You nod, pretending to look casual. Inside, you’re begging her to give you a clue.

“Well,” she starts, sitting next to you, “I’ve always wanted a sapphire pendant. Not too big, but it should sparkle when I move. Oh, and a sun hat! But not just any sun hat, one with a navy blue ribbon. Actually, I saw one in a shop last time we docked.”

You pull out your little notebook behind your back and start scribbling on a page titled Nami Likes.

“Oh, and a new pair of sandals. Mine squeak sometimes.”

You write sandals (no squeak).

“I’d love a book about rare weather patterns too. Not too long. With pictures. Ooh, and a picnic! A quiet one, somewhere green, with good wine.”

You glance at her, blinking “That’s… five things already.”

She keeps going like she didn’t hear you.

“Or maybe a dress? Something soft, that flows when I spin. Something I can dance in. Or, you know, a new weather staff… but Usopp makes that expensive. Or you could draw me! A cute picture of us!”

You let out a soft laugh, flipping the page again. You’re on Nami Likes #2 now.

“You’re lucky I love you” you mumble under your breath, still writing.

“What was that?” she grins, clearly hearing you.

“I said you’re lucky I love you.”

She leans against you “I know.”

You look down at her with a small smile “You know I can only give you one gift, right?”

Nami grins wider “Sure. But now you know all the options.”

You sigh, closing your notebook “This is gonna be hard.”

“But fun,” she says, giving your hand a squeeze “I trust your taste.”

You raise an eyebrow “Even though I once gave Luffy a broken fishing rod as a birthday gift?”

She bursts out laughing “Especially because of that. It was so you.”

You groan “Great.”

You spend the next few days watching Nami like a hawk.

Not in a creepy way. Just… careful observation.

She stretches in the sun, you write: likes warm spots.

She hums while cleaning her staff: takes care of staff = important.

She yells at Luffy for stealing tangerines: do NOT touch tangerines.

You’re building a Nami file in your head. A full-on database. Even if you already know all these things and details.

“You’re acting weird” Sanji says, sliding you a plate of food in the kitchen.

“I’m always weird” you say, chewing fast.

“No, this is different. You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

He raises an eyebrow “The thing where your eyes go all serious and you mutter under your breath.”

You pause “Okay, maybe I’m doing that.”

Zoro walks by, yawning “She’s probably planning a surprise for Nami.”

You freeze “How did you—”

“Please. You’re not subtle.”

You look around “Is everyone onto me?”

Brook leans in from the window “Yes.”

You groan and drop your face into your hands.

Later that night, you catch Nami on the deck again, star-gazing.

She smiles as you sit beside her “Did you figure out your mystery question yet?”

“Still working on it,” you say “You keep adding things.”

“I can’t help it. I like many things.”

“I noticed.”

She giggles, then stretches her arms above her head “Want another idea?”

You blink “There’s more?”

“Always.” She turns her head and looks at you “What if… instead of a gift, we do something?”

You raise an eyebrow “Like…?”

She shrugs “An adventure. Something just for us. Not for treasure. Not for fighting. Not for the crew. Just us.”

You pause. This idea feels… different, better “What kind of adventure?”

She grins “I’ll leave that part to you.”

You stare at her for a moment, her orange hair glowing in the moonlight. She’s smiling like she knows she’s just made your job harder.

“You really are lucky I love you” you say again.

She smirks “Mmm. I’m starting to think you like saying that.”

You look at her, dead serious “No. I say it to survive.”

Nami laughs, throwing her head back “Poor thing.”

But even as you sigh, your mind is already working.

Something special. Something just the two of you.

You whisper to yourself “Okay… now I really have to figure this out.”

You’ve got one day left.

One.

You lie flat on your back in your room, staring at the ceiling like it owes you answers.

You’ve asked Nami a million questions.

You’ve watched her, followed her, written pages of notes.

And still… no gift.

You groan “She’s gonna pretend to be sweet when I give her nothing and then kill me later.”

Robin’s voice drifts from the hallway “Try thinking less.”

“I didn’t ask you, Robin!”

She chuckles “You’re welcome.”

You sit up “Ugh. What am I even doing?”

Then your eyes land on a rolled-up scroll near your shelf.

One of Nami’s old maps. She’d made it for Luffy as a joke, it led to a hidden meat stash.

You stare at the map.

Then you sit up straighter.

Then you jump to your feet.

“…Oh... Oh no. Oh yes.”

Later, you find Nami lying on the lounge chair, flipping through a magazine. Her sunglasses slide down her nose when she sees you.

“You’re doing the face again.” she says.

“What face?”

“The I-have-a-plan-but-I-won’t-tell-you face.”

You sit beside her “So. I need a favor.”

She closes the magazine, intrigued “Aha. Now we’re getting to it.”

“I want you to draw a map.”

Her eyebrows go up “You? Asking for a map?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

You hesitate “…The Sunny.”

Nami blinks “Our ship?”

You nod.

She leans forward “You already live here. Why do you need a map?”

“Secret reasons.”

“Mmhm.”

You try not to smile “Please?”

She squints at you, like she’s trying to read your thoughts.

Finally, she smirks “A kiss and I’ll do it.”

You laugh “That’s all it takes?”

“Today? Yeah.”

You lean in and kiss her softly, brushing your hand along her cheek. She melts into it a little before pulling away with a grin.

“Well, that was better than I expected.”

“Good. Now, will you do it?”

She stands up, stretching “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it cute.”

“You always do” you say, following her.

As she walks away to get her tools, you whisper under your breath, heart pounding a little “…This might actually work.”

Nami hands you the map two hours later, eyebrows still raised.

“You’re acting like a criminal,” she says “What are you planning?”

You take the map, trying not to grin like an idiot “World domination.”

“Uh-huh.” She points at you “No burning the Sunny.”

“No promises.”

You run off before she can hit you.

The next morning Nami wakes up to a note on her bedside table.

A heart drawn in red ink.

A message below it: “Follow the map. Xs are for pirates. Hearts are for you.”

She blinks, then turns the map over.

You’ve marked little red hearts across the Sunny.

Each one at a place she knows. Places you’ve been. Together.

She sits up slowly, heart skipping.

“Oh, you sneaky, romantic idiot” she whispers.

First Heart — The Crow’s Nest

A small envelope is taped to the wall.

Inside, a letter.

“You laughed so hard here that you snorted when Sanji slipped on soap. I laughed harder when you blushed. That was the first time I thought, ‘I could fall for her’.”

Taped below it: a box.

She opens it, a wide-brimmed sunhat with a navy blue ribbon.

She lets out a soft gasp.

Her fingers brush the ribbon.

She smiles.

Second Heart — The Lounge

Another letter.

“You kissed me here. You said it ‘didn’t count’ because it was during a drinking game. I pretended to believe you. My heart couldn’t tho.”

Inside the drawer: a folded summer dress, soft, flowy, the exact color she once pointed at in town.

Her hand presses over her chest “Okay, this is getting dangerous.”

Third Heart — Her Room

On her desk is a velvet box.

Inside: a small sapphire pendant.

It shines gently in the light, just like she described.

Another letter:

“You talked about stars here. You said you want to chart the sky one day. I don’t know much about stars, but I know you’re brighter than any of them.”

She’s quiet now. No teasing. Just silence.

The kind that comes when something hits you deep.

Final Heart — The Tangerine Tree

She follows the last red heart across the deck.

Her hands hold all the letters, gifts tucked safely in her satchel.

When she reaches the tangerine tree, her breath catches.

You’re there.

Blanket spread out under the branches.

Picnic basket open.

Two glasses of wine and lot of food, all her favorites.

You look up when she stops.

“Took you long enough.”

Nami walks slowly toward you, eyes shiny. She drops everything and sits beside you, quiet for a second.

Then “I don’t even care about the pendant.”

You smirk “I thought you liked shiny things.”

“I do.” She leans closer “But this? This was perfect.”

You offer her a glass.

“Happy anniversary, navigator.”

She clinks her glass to yours.

“Happy anniversary, romantic idiot.”

You grin “You’re lucky I love you.”

She laughs and pulls you into a kiss.

You’re both sitting under the tangerine tree, the wine almost gone, her head resting on your shoulder.

You think it can’t get better than this.

Until she suddenly sits up “Oh! Wait.”

She reaches into her bag.

“What?” you ask, watching her fumble with something wrapped in soft cloth and tied with a little gold string.

“My gift to you.” she says, holding it out.

You blink “What? You never asked anything to me, I thought… You didn’t have to…”

“Didn’t need to ask, and I wanted to.” She puts it in your hands “Open it.”

You slowly untie the string and unwrap the cloth.

Inside is a small, handmade leather journal. The cover has your initials carved into it… along with a little heart and a compass.

“Nami…”

She smiles “There’s something inside.”

You open it carefully and your breath catches.

It’s a letter. Written in her neat handwriting. Folded and slipped into the first page.

You pull it out, open it and you start reading.

“I never planned to fall in love. Not during adventures. Not during storms. Not during this crazy life.

But then you showed up. And made everything feel softer. Realer. Safer.

You remind me that love doesn’t have to be loud. It can be quiet and strong. Like the sea on a calm morning.

You made me believe in things I never let myself hope for.

So here’s my gift: my heart. All of it.

Happy anniversary, my love. You’ve already given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

Your hands start to shake.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nami asks softly.

You nod, wiping your cheek “Yeah. I just… I didn’t know I could feel this happy.”

You throw your arms around her, heart full and face wet with happy tears “I love you so much.”

But in your rush, your elbow hits something… something soft.

Your arms and hers both slam into the anniversary cake.

You both freeze.

“…No…” you whisper, looking at the frosting on your sleeves.

Nami slowly looks down at her hand. Covered in chocolate.

You gasp “We ruined it! Sanji’s gonna kill us!”

Nami tilts her head “Kill us? You’re the one who threw me onto the cake!”

“It was an accident!”

You look at the mess and actually pout “It was so pretty…”

Nami blinks, then dips her finger into the frosting on her hand.

“Wasting?” she says “It’s still edible.”

Before you can stop her, she licks it off her finger “Mm. Tastes better now.”

You stare “You’re insane.”

She grins, grabs another glob of frosting from the smashed cake, and smears it gently on your face, right near your lips.

“There” she says softly, leaning in.

Then she kisses it off your skin, slow and warm.

You go still “…You’re actually dangerous.”

She giggles “Then why do you look like you want to kiss me more?”

“Because I do. Of course I do.” you say, and kiss her again, messy frosting and all.

You’re still kissing her, sweet and slow, when she starts to laugh against your lips.

You pull back, smiling “What’s so funny?”

She laughs harder, tossing her head back.

“Oh god,” you say, watching her “I love that sound.”

She wipes a bit of cake from your nose “You’re a sap.”

“I am. It’s horrible.”

Then she pauses. Her brows furrow “Wait a second…”

You blink “Uh-oh. What?”

“…It’s too quiet.”

You tilt your head.

She looks around “Where’s everyone?”

“Oh. I asked them to leave us alone.”

She stares at you.

You try to look innocent “What? I just told them not to interrupt. Respectfully.”

Nami folds her arms “That worked?”

You sigh “No. Not even a little.”

She smirks “Explain.”

You take a deep breath, dramatic.

“So. Luffy thought it was the greatest thing ever. Said ‘ROMANTIC TIME??? I’M ON IT!’ and made it his personal mission to keep everyone in one room.”

Nami’s eyes widen “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Except Sanji exposed himself.”

“What?”

“Not like that! He talked to me about the food... in front of Luffy.”

“Oh god.”

“Exactly. Luffy heard the word ‘food’ and instantly forgot about ‘romantic’ anything. His new mission became: ‘GET OUT AND FIND THE CAKE’.”

Nami bursts into laughter again.

“Sanji, of course,” you continue, “tried to spin it around and said he wanted to join us for a lovely threesome.”

She snorts “No. He didn’t.”

“Oh, he did. With flowers in his hands.”

Nami’s jaw drops as she laughs harder, grabbing her stomach.

“Chopper got scared and said we might choke while eating alone and started packing medical gear.”

She groans into your shoulder “Please stop. I’m going to pee.”

“Brook said he wanted to ‘set the mood with some romantic music’ which sounded okay… until he said, and I quote: ‘and maybe if you’re sitting low enough, I can see your panties, yohohoho~’...”

Nami gasps “I knew he’d say something like that!”

“Franky was crying. Like full tears. Said this was ‘SUPER BEAUTIFUL’ and that true love was alive.”

She wipes her eyes, breathless from laughter “What about Zoro?”

“Didn’t care. I think he’s asleep on the kitchen floor.”

“Classic.”

You smile “Robin and Jinbe are the only ones actually keeping them locked in a room.”

Nami blinks “Seriously?”

“She’s using her powers to make sure no one leaves, and Jinbe’s guarding the door like a bouncer.”

Nami falls back onto the blanket, laughing “Our crew is insane.”

You lie down beside her “We love them, though.”

“We do.”

There’s a quiet pause.

Then she turns her head, gazes at you with a smile “But right now, I just want you.”

You smile back, softly “Good. Because you’ve got me.”

The wind is soft.

The waves rock the Sunny gently.

And for once… there’s no yelling. No chaos. No one flying through walls.

Just the two of you, under the tangerine tree, the sky painted in sunset orange, almost the same shade as her hair.

You lie beside her, warm and full, with cake still on your sleeves and crumbs in your lap.

“I still can’t believe you planned all of this” Nami says softly.

“I still can’t believe you love me enough to eat floor cake...” you tease.

She grins “True love is messy.”

You lean in, nose brushing hers “Lucky me.”

This time, the kiss is slow and quiet.

No more laughter, no jokes.

Just warmth.

The kind that settles in your chest and makes your fingertips tingle.

Her hand finds yours and you both lace your fingers together.

She pulls back slightly “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I think this is my favorite day.”

Your heart squeezes a little “Mine too.”

You rest your head on her shoulder, and she pulls your arm around her waist.

The two of you lie there, tangled together, while the sun dips lower.

And even though you know the crew will eventually escape…

Even though Luffy will come charging for the crumbs…

Even though Sanji will cry over the cake and Zoro will blame you for something you didn’t do...

But right now you’re here, wrapped up in her.

Warm. Loved. Home.