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stuckinmymind22 · 11 days ago

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On The Run (part four)

so im back..... sorry this took three months whoops 🙃

masterpost first part | previous part

shanks x afab! reader (she/her) | lovers (intimate) to lovers (romantic)

tags: ANGST, hurt (eventual comfort but they gotta suffer a lil first)

tw: this one gets dark.... celestial dragons and slave trading, minor passive suicidal ideation on part of reader (not really but thought i should mention it)

wc: 12.1k

a/n: please believe me when i say i cut out angst, it had more

summary: Neither you nor Shanks know how to move forward following your passionate night on the beach, so avoidance was the answer. A variety of stressors contributed to the high tension, but the inner turmoil over feelings made it worse. Eventually something had to give and tempers boil over.

~~~~~~~

Beams of sunlight stirred you awake as they slipped between the cracks of the tropical forest while the sun rose on the other side of the island. A pounding headache and a faint sense of nausea were the first things you noticed. It had been a while since you had experienced that kind of treat. The raging hangover became the least of your worries when you realized where you were. On the beach. Naked. {Or at least damn near it.}

Oh no.

Last night flashed before your eyes, all your memories revolving around one man, Shanks. The games, the drinking, gazing at the stars, and the sex. God, the sex. God damnit.

What were you thinking? You scolded yourself. Was it bad? No. Did you enjoy it? Yes. But what the fuck were you thinking?

You had said that you would let yourself relax for the night, but that didn’t mean to go and fucking sleep with him. Looking over at the man in question, you almost forgot all of your worries — he just looked so peaceful. You had seen Shanks asleep before, but never so relaxed. He lay there with the faintest hint of a smile painted on his face as his eyelashes rested on his skin. His hair a mess, but in the right way. He nearly took your breath away.

The realization that seeing him so peaceful had pacified your mind sent you into a spiral. It could only end badly, you reminded yourself. The whole thing had been a mistake — a mistake you wanted to make again. That scared you. The fact that you wanted whatever it was to continue was the precise reason why it couldn’t.

From the beginning, you had known it would be temporary. It was supposed to just be fun. But when he looked at you, talked with you, laughed with you like he had last night, it was hard to keep emotions out of it. The truth was it was no longer just fun; it hadn’t been for a while. You were nearing a point of no return. If you kept going, leaving him behind, like you had to, wouldn’t be simply ripping off a bandaid. At this rate, he would be a slow wound to heal.

You were painfully aware of Shanks’s presence next to you. His breathing was syncopated with the tides. The heat of his body provided warmth in the early morning chill— something you were trying not to let yourself indulge in, but it seemed he had other plans. Shanks rolled onto his side and reached for you, pulling you to him with almost too much force for an unconscious man. You held your breath, unsure of what you would do if he was awake. You weren’t ready for that, you weren’t ready to face the consequences. “Mmmm, you’re warm,” Shanks mumbled as he buried his head in your shoulder. You froze.

Thinking it was only a matter of time before he was awake, your mind frantically tried to figure out the next steps. Sleeping together wasn’t something you could take back, but you didn’t know where to go from here. If you hadn’t liked the man, it would be easy to leave and never look back, but you did like him. You had started to realize that more and more the night before. It was time for you to put on your big girl pants and admit you could see yourself falling. But you wouldn’t delude yourself into thinking that anything would happen. How could it? Even if there was something between the two of you, how the hell was a relationship supposed to work?

…

That was assuming that he did relationships at all. Or that he was even interested in you. For all you knew, this could be his standard behavior. It was all supposed to be fun, but you had gone and caught feelings like a fool.

Blurry glimpses into a future that would never exist flashed in your mind before you swatted them all away. You wouldn’t wait for him, and you sure as shit weren’t equipped to be a pirate. Being constantly on the move and always having to look over your shoulder wasn’t for you; you had been there and done that. What you wanted was something stable, something more permanent, something more like the life you had lost. You wanted a place to call home, but above all else, you wanted to be safe.

You sighed deeply, trying to recenter yourself. The movement had Shanks’s arm tightening around you. Staying like that was going to mess with your mind and heart, you knew that, but you didn’t want to move. Still, you should, but maybe a little bit longer. Stealing the moment was all that you could do, but it couldn’t last. After a few minutes, his grip on you had loosened enough for you to slip away.

“Stay,” he said in his sleep. It was almost so quiet you missed it, but the single word felt louder than the crashing of the waves. Your breath hitched, and your heart squeezed at the request. You almost listened — almost.

~~~~~~~

It had taken a moment for you to collect all of your clothes. Honestly, you were surprised at how far they had scattered. Sand fell from your now-dried skin as you moved around but clung in annoying patches. Finally taking the time to dust yourself off, you realized that the small grains had embedded themselves into the gauze that wrapped around your torso.

Hoping to remove the evidence that you had not followed the doctor’s orders and stayed out of the sea, you did your best to get the sand off only to find something else. Your hand ran across a crusty patch on your stomach. Instantly you knew what it was. It seemed like in the arms of the afterglow, neither you nor Shanks had thought to wipe off his cum (in your defense, you couldn’t feel it anyway).

Heat rose to your cheeks. Not only were you a little embarrassed by that, but there was also no way in hell you were going to traumatize the poor doctor, who you had become quite close to, by making him deal with his boss’s semen. You couldn’t do that to the man. By now you considered him to be your friend as well.

Following the incident after the storm, where your soaked shirt had made the brand on your back visible, Hongo had taken it upon himself to dress the wound in a way that ensured it was covered. But the change somehow always left the tail end of the gauze in a place you could not reach. Knowing damn well you were already in for a talking to from the doctor, you decided that you might as well remove the bandages entirely. The alternative was waking up Shanks and asking for his help, which you were not willing to do. However, you did recall him keeping a smaller knife in his cloak.

You successfully snuck up and retrieved the blade before stepping back. One of your arms was already through your shirt to keep the amount of time the scar was exposed minimal. A combination of being hyper aware of where it could be seen and only having your top off in limited lighting left you pretty sure that the redhead had yet to notice the scar. If he had seen it, he would have at least said something, surely.

The memory of the last time someone had seen it helped your guard stay up. The way your lover’s eyes had shifted from adoration to disgust ran through your head. It didn't help how they had immediately ratted you out, and you had barely escaped with your life either. While you knew logically a goddamn yonko wasn't going to go running to the Marines or World Government, it was hard to be trusting. It would also gut you if Shanks looked at you differently after finding more out about your past.

Making damn sure that he was asleep, you quickly cut the bandages with the blade and put on your shirt. With the shirt mostly on, you pulled out the strips of gauze that didn't fall immediately. You were glad Shanks kept his blade sharp because it made easy work of the excessive bandaging.

The thought had you turning towards the sleeping man, and you started to second-guess your choice to leave. Fantasies threatened to fill up your head. Maybe... The sound of a seagull nearby brought you back before you could go down that rabbit hole. Your wonders of what could be could wait — or better yet, never show up.

Reaching down, you collected the pile of used bandages to discard on the ship. Hongo had a biohazard waste collection, which you had found strange for a pirate, but it made sense for him.

With silent footsteps, you returned Shanks’s knife to him, tucking the blade where you had found it. Grabbing the empty bottle of booze along with your shoes, you started the trek back to the Red Force.

~~~~~~~

Golden hour had just started to set in when Beck saw you approaching. You set something down on the barrels still on the beach before continuing onwards. Beckman checked for any signs of his boss behind you and sighed when there were none. He had a guess as to what that meant.

The gray-haired man lit up a cigarette with a sigh. He watched from the quarter deck as you walked up the gangplank. Building Snake, the only other person awake at the time, smirked at you as you reached the deck and put up his hand for a high-five. There hadn’t been much of a guess as to what had happened when you and Shanks had run off on your own the night before. As far as the crew was concerned, that was a good thing. Their boss acted differently around you, more jovial, which was saying something knowing the man, and more relaxed than they had seen him in years.

Snake did not receive the reaction he’d envisioned. Your head lowered and you walked past him (leaving him hanging). He’d caught you leaving the ship in the early hours of the morning the day that the crew had been set to leave [ISLAND], before they’d known they were taking you with them. That morning you had grinned widely and given the navigator a high-five on your way out. This was the polar opposite of that. The navigator cocked his head in question with what was surely a hint of worry in his eyes.

“Hangover,” you muttered with a tight-lipped smile before walking past him. Your answer seemed to appease the navigator, but not the first mate.

Even from his perch, Beckman could see through the lie. The way you moved was far from a basic walk of shame and morning-after regrets. You seemed sad, hurt.

“There’s a hangover cure in the fridge that Shanks swears by,” Beck informed you as you climbed the stairs. He watched your reaction to the name and it was as he had expected and as he had feared.

“Thanks. I think I’m gonna go sleep it off after stopping to see the doc,” you said, showing the used bandages in your hand. It was a different side of you entirely.

Something had happened between you and Shanks, and as you walked away Beckman was left wondering how his boss had fucked up.

~~~~~~~

Beck had quickly determined that things were much deeper than a fling that had gone sour. It didn’t take much deduction on his part either. After he had pushed you to talk to Shanks the night prior, the two of you had returned to your usual dynamic, only this time there was something more as well. Halfway through the card game, most of the senior officers had caught how their boss’s eyes had started to shine when he looked at you. The lust that had always been in that gaze hadn’t left; instead, it had been overpowered by something else. Something more pure.

And Beck had seen the way you had looked at him too. With something that looked a hell of a lot like adoration. He knew that neither of you had seen it then, and if you were as similar as he thought, neither of you had truly recognized the depth of your emotions. Whatever had occurred when you two had been alone almost certainly had been an act of self-sabotage on one or both of your parts.

The first mate wasn’t the only one who had seen it. It was painfully clear to the crew that something had gone wrong. None of the Red Hair pirates would claim to be an expert at love — an expert lover, however, was a different story (no matter how true or false) — but with the way the pair of you were acting, it sure looked a lot like heartbreak.

The happy individuals that had been back on the island — the ones who hadn’t been able to stop smiling or keep their hands off of each other — were nowhere to be found. Time passed, and the conditions did not improve; if anything, they were deteriorating. No one had any idea on how to help or if they could even help in the first place, and with the next stop approaching, they were quickly running out of time.

~~~~~~~

When Shanks had woken up alone, he’d known then and there that you thought the night before had been a mistake, and damn if that hadn’t hurt. After the events of the day before, he had hoped things could go back to the way they were before. Before you had started to avoid him, back when things were comfortable and easy.

Truth be told, the faceless rejection had cut deeper than he would ever admit. What had made it worse was that he understood. Not only did you have no way of knowing how he felt about you — how much he thought of you, how he felt comfortable around you in a way that was entirely foreign to him — he could also picture you having apprehensions about being with him. To be with him also meant to accept his reputation, and that wasn’t something that just anyone would be okay with.

The circumstances you remained in were also an issue. It would be selfish of him to ask for anything more from you. Enough was going on in your life; it wouldn’t be fair for him to complicate things further. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Initially, Shanks had managed to hold onto some hope that there had been another reason he’d been alone that morning, but when he’d seen you later that day, it all fell apart. At least it was better to know than wonder.

Shanks had to keep his mind occupied to stop from thinking too hard about it. He took a page out of your book and had started to avoid you, and everyone else in general. He had been spending all his time cooped up in the office he hated, drowning himself in paperwork, which he also hated.

The redhead’s sudden shift into productivity hadn’t been entirely unwarranted. Things had continued to shake up in the aftermath of Whitebeard’s dying declaration. Rookies everywhere were causing more problems than they had any right to. Resources were starting to be spread thin to cover all of his territory.

He wasn’t alone either. Throughout the seas, there had been attacks from pirates at a rate that hadn’t been seen before. Even yonko territories seemed to mean nothing to newcomers who had no clue how things worked in the New World. It seemed that they hadn’t been learning from the failures of other crews as they continued to overestimate their abilities. Yes, very few were actually issues, and the majority of them were easy to squash, but that didn’t matter. The people that Shanks protected were getting scared.

There was a lot to figure out, and due to his position, the brunt of that responsibility had fallen onto Shanks. He hadn’t been able to sleep and barely had the time to eat. Of course, Beckman had helped a lot, but Shanks had virtually no time to deal with his emotions.

~~~~~~~

By the second night following the one on the island, not much had changed on the emotional front. The ship was still thick with an unspoken tension.

Even though he no longer needed to work as hard, Shanks continued to confine himself in the office. It didn’t take a genius to know what he had been avoiding. You had to continue to distance yourself in a way that left the crew uncertain if they should be concerned. Neither of you had said a word about that night.

Fed up, Beckman sought to uncover what had happened from the person most likely to share. Armed with multiple bottles of sake, Beck made his way to his longtime boss and friend. Shanks was not one to turn down an opportunity to drink, and that did not change that night. Alcohol started to flow, Beck more than happy to keep his boss’s cup full. He knew well that the more he drank, the more the redhead would divulge.

Surprisingly, Shanks was far more tight-lipped about the situation. It was clear that he had been hurt somehow but was struggling to admit it. Even to himself.

Beck had decided that it was not an issue he should pry on, so he waited. The two worked in silence for hours, Beck always keeping one eye on the man. Multiple bottles had been emptied before any progress was made.

Out of nowhere, Shanks started to stare at the chair across the desk, his expression growing forlorn. He had been glancing at it all night. Draped over the chair was the redhead’s signature cloak, where it had been since the island.

Beckman lit up a cigarette, aware it was only a matter of time until his friend talked. “What’s so interesting about the chair?” Beck asked in his usual gruff voice. Shanks’s eyes snapped back down to the page he had been reading for the last fifteen minutes.

“Nothin’ just staring off,” the captain dismissed, trying not to slur his words. Beck hummed, clearly not buying it. Shanks hated when he did that. It was so unfair of Beck to use that knowing stare against him. The gray-haired man had been just waiting for him to crack — Shanks could tell — but he wouldn’t. The emperor was going to stand strong and not —

“Shanks,” Beckman said. His first mate rarely called him by his first name, reserving that for more personal and serious matters. That told Shanks a lot about how he had been acting over the past couple of days. Apparently, being hulled up in his office — a place vocally hated — wasn’t as inconspicuous as he had imagined.

Shanks made eye contact with his second hand before letting out a dejected sigh. There was no point in trying to hide it; Benn Beckman knew how to extract information from anyone. Especially him. Shanks focused his attention back on the chair, looking at it almost wistfully.

“It smells like her.” Beckman didn’t have to ask who, and Shanks didn’t have to say. The redhead took a short sip of his dwindling drink, no longer masking the effect it had on him. “Makes sense considering how I had her on it.” Shanks downed the rest of the bottle, tipping his head back for the very last drop.

“I dunno what I did, Beck,” Shanks said quieter, looking at his companion with sad eyes. “I thought things were good again. She was talking to me. We were having fun, and now she wants nothing to do with me.” Shanks turned away, toying with the empty bottle before setting it on the far side of the desk with all the others. Just like that, the conversation was over.

Beckman decided not to press the matter and got back to work, adjusting the frames of his glasses. He had known that Shanks had already taken a great interest in you, but he hadn’t realized just how infatuated with you the man had already become. He hoped that things would work themselves out and that it wouldn’t be a prolonged issue in the future.

~~~~~~~

The next day provided yet another sleepless night for Shanks. Instead of drowning himself in responsibilities, he was on night watch. Hongo had tried to convince him to swap shifts with someone so that he could sleep, but the captain refused. He feared that if he were to lie down alone with his thoughts, he would think too much about you and be forced to confront the feeling in his chest, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

“See ya in three hours for the storm, Boss,” Limejuice shouted up at Shanks, who had already settled in his perch for the night. Somehow, nearly every time the Red Hair’s captain took watch, something would happen that required the crew to wake up, typically a storm. The phenomenon was so common that it was a running joke within the crew. It was what Shanks was counting on, why he preferred watch to sleep.

As the crew started to turn in for the night, sentiments similar to Limejuice’s were echoed. With nearly everyone in their cabins, Shanks was surprised to see Hongo climbing the mast. Shanks was worried that the doctor had come to change his mind again, but when he arrived, Hongo only stuck his head into the crow’s nest. The doctor passed the redhead a bottle of something that definitely was not sake (or any other alcohol for that matter) and earned a confused look.

“To keep you awake,” Hongo clarified; his boss’s lack of sleep showed in his sunken eyes and dulled skin. The doctor wasn’t sure if he would stay awake throughout his watch if he didn’t have something to aid him. While he was the ship’s doctor, Hongo wasn’t going to force Shanks to sleep — at least not yet. The best he could do was provide him with an herbal concoction that would keep him up a little bit longer. The captain accepted the bottle with a thanks and then he was left alone for the night.

~~~~~~~

The powers that be had a sick sense of humor. They had decided that Shank’s inner turmoil was enough of a storm, and so no weather event came. The last time the captain could recall having a peaceful watch was years ago, and even then that had been following a battle at dusk.

Safe to say that his intentions to keep his mind off of you had been a massive failure. No matter how he resisted, moments and memories replayed in his head. Some of the nights you had spent together — those were incredible — but mostly more mundane things. Watching you interact with customers back on [ISLAND], how you joked around with his crew, and even how you would subconsciously curl up against him in the dead of night in the midst of a nightmare.

When the sun started peaking over the waves and overpowering the stars, Shanks was relieved. He had found himself staring up at them frequently. Ever since you had pointed out your constellation, it was the first thing he saw in the night sky. It had been to the point where he’d almost grown resentful of it. But the daylight promised the end to the damned cowboy cat’s reign.

In the final hour of watch, Shanks allowed his thoughts to wander. Something about that morning had been bothering him — he couldn’t understand why you had bothered to fold his clothes and place them neatly next to him if you were planning on leaving anyway. It’d felt like a punch in the gut. Such a kind, albeit small, gesture didn’t make sense if you’d been planning to cut him off anyway. He felt ridiculous that such a small thing could make it so much harder for him to let go.

There was also the fact that you had done it before. Or at least something similar. The day they were set to leave your island, he had woken to a cold bed, which had ruined his morning plans [lover of morning sex fr], but you had left a note. Now you were stuck on a ship together, and you hadn’t even tried to see him. Granted, he hadn’t either, but that was just because he was hurt. Shanks reasoned. He just couldn’t understand —

His thoughts were cut off when he felt someone approaching. Shanks hadn’t realized how much time had passed until Building Snake came to kick him out so an apprentice could take his place. As the navigator, Snake would typically keep watch as they approached an island, often with the help of an apprentice.

“How much longer we thinkin’ here?” Shanks questioned, trying to put on his usual demeanor. What he really wanted was a nap. He had taken roughly half of whatever Hongo had given him, but he was still ready to pass out given the opportunity. “‘Bout three hours,” Snake replied. Shanks frowned slightly at the response, but nodded nonetheless. Sleep would have to wait. He chugged the rest of the concoction from the doctor before descending to the deck.

Looking to kill some time, Shanks retreated to the body of the ship where the office lay. He was a little surprised to find the room empty. Beckman typically spent his early mornings in the room, so it was rare for him to be missing. Shanks shrugged off the other man’s absence and noticed the pile of paperwork on his desk. Might as well look at ‘em.

~~~~~~~

Beckman started his morning the way he always did, stopping at the galley before checking on information networks to see if anything came in overnight. Humming to himself (something he only did when everyone was asleep), he went to his morning retreat holding a hot, untouched cup of coffee.

Beck’s eyes widened upon seeing his boss, not because he was surprised Shanks was there, but because of how tired the man looked. Beck set his mug infront of Shanks, deciding to sacrifice it for the greater good. The yonko made a sound of acknowledgment as he continued to read through the reports. After a moment, he processed what had happened and downed the cup. With a sigh, Beck went to refuel the mug and grab one for himself.

Shanks had appreciated his first mate more and more as he read through absolutely useless information. He couldn’t imagine having to do this every morning. He did not care about relations between villages on an island that he had no power over. The most interesting thing he’d seen was that the price of alcohol had gone down on an island nearby, which meant the crew would be drinking well come a day or two.

It had all been boring as hell to the man, but then he ran into something interesting. Your name had popped up in the middle of a document. The one you no longer used. Shanks, who had reverted to only looking at the words and not reading them, went back to the beginning to get some context. It appeared to be an abridged version of the history of the kingdom you came from; he was confused why it was even there.

He’d just finished the document when Beck entered the room and, like a moment of déjà vu, placed a full cup of coffee in front of him. The gray-haired man went and checked on the transponder snails, feeding them breakfast — a task Shanks would never remember to do.

The next item in the stack was an old newspaper from about fourteen years ago. “Hey Beck?” Shanks asked, receiving a tired grunt of acknowledgment back. “What’s this?” He continued, holding up the paper. “I dunno, haven’t gone through any of that yet,” Beck admitted as he fed the last snail.

Returning to the paper in his hands, Shanks realized that it was not from the World Economy News Paper. An independent press was rare. Glancing over the first page, he saw the headline for a featured article: “FIRE ON GROVE 1.” Something told him to read it as a sinking feeling formed in his gut. He hoped that the pieces he was starting to put together wouldn’t fit.

Flipping to the correct page, the article read:

“Tragically, a warehouse in the heart of Grove 1 was burnt to the ground late last night. The case is still being investigated, but arson is suspected. So far, authorities have shared that nearly all of the inventory inside was damaged or destroyed.

The owners of the warehouse are not public information however, it has been suspected to be a place where Celestial Dragons and Auctioneers store their inventory…”

Shanks stopped reading there, not able to take anymore. His jaw clenched firmly; it looked like the puzzle had fit. Both the timeline and the presence of a large fire aligned with what he knew about your past. Beckman turned to look at Shanks as the energy in the room grew electric. The first mate knew that whatever the emperor had found, it was not good.

Shanks closed the paper harshly, setting it aside too calmly for his anger. He glared at the wall for over a minute until he managed to regain complete control over his haki. Beck was glad that the outburst had barely escaped the confines of the room. Before the gray-haired man could ask what had happened, his boss had moved onto the next paper in the pile. Beck knew the man well enough to know that he was not yet calm enough to answer questions, so he watched and waited.

The document following the newspaper had started off with its author praising themselves for being able to find a copy of it in the first place, claiming that the publication had been shut down following the issue and all copies were destroyed.

Of course they did. Shanks thought to himself. If he was right in his theory, then of course they wouldn’t want the story to be spread. One thing about Celestial Dragons was that they loved their pride. If none of them had been hurt, it wouldn’t be out of the question for them to completely cover up what had happened to save face. Fisher Tiger’s escape and rescue of slaves would have only been a few months prior. Having something like that happen again so soon after would be embarrassing. Especially if it had been because of a mere teenage girl. At least Fisher Tiger had been a known pirate before. You had been a weak, starving princess who had been missing for months. The two didn’t hold the same weight, and the latter reflected much more poorly. It would be an embarrassment, so the narrative had to be changed. That was why you had never gotten an explanation for your bounty, as was standard procedure.

Shanks skipped past the rest of the self-important tale of the trials and tribulations the sender had gone through to get the copy and found something else important. There had been a hit on the devil fruit user you had described: Aithan Titus, a known slaver.

It all made sense in a way he wished it didn’t. The scars on your body were suddenly put into context, and his heart broke. What had you gone through?

Shanks remembered how angry you had gotten when you’d figured out who had snitched on you and was impressed by your restraint even further. He’d known that [ISLAND] was somewhere you had felt safe, but he hadn’t exactly known what you had been running from. He should’ve seen the signs.

Typically, with a low enough bounty, there were places to escape to, even within World Government-affiliated islands. Although yours toed that line, you should have been able to live most places if you were careful. But as a former slave who had rebelled, there were very limited options to where you could go, and one of them had been taken from you.

The paper had crumpled in his hand as he realized all you had been through. He had wanted you to stay with him before, but he really wanted you to stay now. He knew he could keep you safe. He wanted to keep you safe.

It was probably a bad idea for Shanks to continue reading about Aithan Titus because as soon as he got to the man’s M.O., he slammed the paper onto the desk and stormed out of the room, needing to cool off.

Only a handful of times in the near twenty years Beckman had known him had Shanks acted like that. Where he was not just mad but furious, when it was something that was entirely out of his control. On those occasions, the captain would walk off and disappear for hours to days. It would be best not to approach him and let the man sort it out for himself.

However, as first mate it was important for Beck to know what had set his captain off so badly. Reading over the material on the desk confirmed his long-held suspicions, the ones he had been holding ever since that storm when both you and the doctor had acted strangely.

He knew that it was likely going to be one of those times Shanks was gone for days. There was a possibility the captain would show up to send the ship off again, but the odds were not high. Beckman sighed and lit a cigarette before he went to warn people to give the fuming redhead some space.

~~~~~~~

As the next island grew closer and the time to leave with it, the worse you got. Nightmares never stopped, so you had given up on sleep. You had become completely numb as a defense mechanism. Not even Monster (monkey) snatching Yasopp’s gun and imitating him could make you laugh. Your life had been torn apart, and you were lost. What the hell were you supposed to do now? Then, to add to your troubles, you had been foolish enough to start to fall for one of the most powerful pirates — scratch that, most powerful people in the world.

A small flicker of regret while you packed your things was the first emotion you had felt in days. You hated being like this, but there was no quick fix. Your time was up, and you were ready to go… or as ready as you’d ever been. It didn’t matter if it would break your heart in the long run; you had to go. You were not a pirate and could not pretend to be one; your place was not onboard this ship.

A single tear snuck past your lash line, and you let it fall. Hesitation in moments like these could kill you. You were no stranger to people you loved suddenly turning on you; who’s to say that it won’t just happen again? Although you trusted the crew, you weren’t in the position to be trusting. Even if you could, you still hadn’t figured out how they would react if they learned the whole truth about your past. You didn’t want them to see you differently; you cared about them.

These past two weeks had been the happiest and most alive you had felt in your life while also being among the saddest. You knew that even as you slipped through towns and harbors, you would never find another place like the Red Force. And that was okay. It had to be.

You wouldn’t let the fear and apprehension show in your eyes as you got ready to depart. It was going to hurt like hell the moment you were alone, but for the time being, you would pretend it was fine. Reality was sinking in, and you did not want to face it. You had tried to find hope in it all, but there was nothing to be found. You had fallen in love with someone you couldn’t be with, and your life had been torn apart by things that were no fault of your own.

Checking for anything you might have missed, you gave the room one last scan. Your eyes landed on a shirt of Shanks’s that he had lent you days prior. Without a moment’s pause, it became the very last thing you packed.

~~~~~~~

Shanks hadn’t known where he’d been going when he’d left; he’d just walked. The only thing he could think of was to go lower. He had enough of a mind to recognize that he wasn’t fully in control of his haki and much less aware of the strength any of the flare-ups would have. There wasn’t a place for him or others to escape to out on the waters, so he did the next best thing.

As he descended into the belly of the ship, Shanks walked by several people, all of whom noticed the blatant warning signs radiating off of him. A mix of his heavy presence and his expression had people walking into rooms or lowering their heads as he passed.

Without him saying anything, the few men who had been down in the hull scattered. It was for the best, but Shanks paid it no mind as he started to pace the length of the ship. Over and over.

Ten laps before Shanks had been able to rein in his haki enough to not disturb others on the ship. He had a strong urge to track down the men who had hurt you and get rid of them himself. He'd thought through the ways he could when he remembered you sharing how you hoped to do it for yourself. He wouldn't take that from you.

Twenty more laps before he stopped seeing red. The yonko realized that he could help you track them down using his information networks. That way he could at least be helping. With that, his shoulders relaxed. Then he realized he had no idea what time it was. The passage of time below the water line was all but impossible to determine, so he went to the upper decks.

Shanks knew that once you joined the crew you would feel safer and you would be well protected. While you certainly knew how to fight, the Red Hairs would fight for you if it ever came to that. Shanks was certain that the crew would fight for you before he even asked— that was how well you got along with them. Hell, you could keep your room too. He wasn't going to make you room with the other men and truth be told he didn't want you to.

Then it hit him. His steps faltered, stopping dead in his tracks. This was assuming that you decided to stay at all.

He didn't like that idea. Not one bit. At least he had some time to convince you to stay. For the time being he had duties to uphold, so he went to find the navigator.

~~~~~~~

Luckily, with years of practice, you were able to hide your sadness in going. Both Lucky Roux and Yasopp had tried to dissuade you from going when they'd found out your plans. They had even gotten Monster (monkey) to give you puppy-dog eyes. The doctor had refused to be roped into their antics. As the person who knew you the best, aside from maybe the captain himself, he'd known it would be fruitless. Somehow, Hongo had managed to convince Dumb and Dumber (your affectionate nickname to the duo that was Yasopp and Lucky Roux) to give it up, leaving you to your own devices out on the main deck.

You sighed and stared out to the sea, getting lost in your thoughts. You weren't sure how far you were from the island other than it would be around midday, and you weren't sure you wanted a more specific time. Deep down, you knew this action would mess you up for years, but what other choice did you have?

“Whatcha got there?” Shanks questioned, suddenly appearing in front of you and snapping you from your daze. You were confused until you saw him staring at the luggage you had been sitting on. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost looked panicked.

“You said you’d give me a lift to the next island, and this is the second. I overstayed my welcome by twice as long. Thought I might as well be ready for land,” you responded, fiddling with your fingernails. Shanks’s jaw ticked when you’d mentioned overstaying your welcome, but you hadn’t thought anything of it.

“There’s a Marine outpost, you know. One they’re tryna revitalize,” he leveled with you, hoping it was something you had been unaware of and not a case of you being reckless. “I’ll be extra careful,” you said in a way that told him you’d been well aware.

“Ship’s there less than an hour — it’s a quick in and out. Not a real stop.” Shanks was trying to buy some time. "Sounds like plenty of time to get off," you said calmly, or rather impassively.

"'S just not a good place for someone with a bounty to be running around in," Shanks tried again. The look you gave him spoke for itself. "We only do it cause it's a shortcut, and, well, we're us. They know better. You don't have that." Something inside of you snapped at his words.

"I'm not fucking useless, Shanks. I can take care of myself," you snarled. Your voice wasn't loud, but your presence was, sending a shiver down the spine of those on deck.

Shanks knew he needed to run some damage control. "I know that, Darlin'. I’m telling ya it's alright if you stay longer. Nobody's gonna judge you for that."

"Thank you for the concern, but I'll be alright," you dismissed with your anger still stirring. Your stubborn nature would be the death of both of you. {But was he really one to talk?}

"Think about what'll happen if ya get caught," Shanks said, desperate to talk some sense into you. If you wanted to leave you bad, you needed to know the risks. He couldn't protect you everywhere, not that he wouldn't try.

You simply shrugged at the idea. "I'll put up a fight, and, if they're lucky, they'll kill me." The casual, indifferent way you had spoken had taken Shanks aback. He'd known that you had been struggling since [ISLAND], but had no idea of the extent. His eyes softened, and yours narrowed. "Don't pity me," you said, anger creeping back into your voice.

You didn't want pity? Fine. He could be blunt.

"They'll send you back," Shanks said louder than he'd meant.

It took a moment for his words to process, but when they did, a new rage sparked within you. You stood up abruptly and took a dangerous step towards him. The air around you started to pulsate, more than it had before.

"How the fuck do you know about that?" You questioned, your voice dangerously level. If looks could kill, the emperor would be six feet under [or whatever pirates do for death RESEARCH].

Nearby, a young apprentice collapsed to the floor at the sudden display of power. A senior officer directed others to give the two of you some space. The young man's unconscious body dragged along with them. You were so pissed that you didn't even notice the impact you were having on your surroundings.

"It doesn't matter how I know," Shanks said, torn between wishing he had kept his mouth shut and knowing that you'd needed to hear it. Either way, he hadn't meant to throw the fact that he knew about your past in your face.

"No, it does matter. It matters very much. Now answer my question, how the fuck did you find out about that?" You knew damn well that you hadn't told Shanks, and you were convinced if he'd seen it himself, he'd've reacted in some way. There was only one other person who knew— Oh no. Your face paled at the thought of yet another betrayal, but you had to ask the question. "Did Hongo tell you?"

"No." Shanks failed to mask his surprise at the question. He wasn't sure how he felt about Hongo being the one you had told. "I didn't know he knew," he said quieter.

"Fucking course he knew!" You shouted. Unable to see past the red, your next words slipped out without you recognizing the weight. "He's the only one here I {actually} trust!"

Shanks went silent. You didn't trust him. The reason why you two hadn't been talking came back to him. You didn't trust him. Was that why you'd left that morning? You didn't trust him. The weight of it hit him hard.

You. Didn't. Trust. Him.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm going anyway," you said dead-eyed, arms crossed as you sat back down. The movement brought the redhead back. His jaw ticked, his temper reaching its limit.

"Why d'ya gotta be so reckless all the damn time? You're gonna get yourself hurt or killed sooner or later." Shanks was restraining himself from shouting, but his voice was rising. He just couldn't understand. You had lost a lot, but you'd risk losing everything rather than accept some help. He wanted to help you.

You looked up at Shanks with your nostrils flared. The rage you had from earlier shifting into the tears that welled at your lash line. "W-why does it even matter to you?" Your voice wavered as you spoke, and that was the final straw.

"Because I fucking care about you! So much," Shanks snapped. "Why is that so hard for you to see?" He was almost angry that you didn't seem to understand it. "Do ya think I'd let anyone else crawl into my bed cause they're having nightmares and can't sleep? Do you—“ His voice dwindled out as he cut himself off, his hand roughly running through his hair as he turned away.

You sat there stunned and confused at his sudden outburst. You hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your face, the ones that had caused him to pause. Once he had pulled himself together, Shanks let out a bitter laugh, seeing the look of utter disbelief on your face.

"I can't make ya, but stay. Please. Just a lil longer, 'til we can get ya somewhere safe." He said it like it'd pained him. Shanks studied your expression carefully before he walked away. "We arrive in thirty minutes. The choice is yours." The redhead didn't look back as he spoke, leaving you to figure out what had happened.

~~~~~~~

Shanks had sought out refuge in his newfound oasis, unable to watch you leave should you decide to. A bottle had been open before he had even shut the door. Sinking down into his chair, he realized that at least he wasn't tired anymore. Adrenaline from the fight and his earlier anger lingered in his system — just like your words in his mind.

While you hadn't said it out right, it screamed from between the lines: you didn't trust him. If Hongo was the only one you trusted, as you'd said, that meant you didn't trust him. It stung. It really stung.

If you didn't trust him now, had you ever? If called into question everything you had ever done together: every touch, every joke, every smile, every night, had it all been a lie? What did that say about him?

~~~~~~~

Shanks had run out of liquor before he’d run out of thoughts (not that he had much left in the room). He swung back and forth between daydreaming and catastrophizing, neither in a way he had ever done before. Of course, he could blame the lack of sleep, but there was something more to it — there was you.

While his heart ached at the thought of never seeing you again, the choice was yours to make, and he would have to be okay with it. As time moved forward, the emperor grew more and more apprehensive of leaving the room. There had been no news on your status, and he hadn't been sure if he wanted to find out. If he’d known about Schrödinger’s cat, he might’ve found the comparison fitting.

He had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t registered the knock on the door, but he had registered it opening. Ready to tell whoever it was to come back later, but looking up took his breath away.

"Hi," you breathed out, feeling awkward and unsure of yourself. You entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind you.

You'd stayed. The revolution revelation took a heavy weight off of the yonkos's shoulders.

After a moment, Shanks cleared his throat. “See, ya decided to stay," he said with a grin brighter than usual.

"Yeah..." you said, drifting off. You had rehearsed how you would apologize a hundred times over, but you had forgotten that entire script now that you were in front of him.

"I'm...sorry," you said, whispering the last word, not because you hadn't meant it but because it felt too real. You had been keeping him at arm’s length this whole time — or at least trying to, and you had been burying your emotions for years; vulnerability didn't come easily to you.

Shanks gestured for you to take a seat. It had been obvious to him that there was something important on your mind. A tension lingered in the air as you tried to collect your thoughts with a blank mind.

"Did you mean it?" Shanks asked, breaking the silence after a minute. You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a confusion that only deepened at the hurt look on his face. "When ya said Hongo's the only one ya trust," he clarified.

Truth be told, you hadn't remembered saying anything like that — it must've slipped out in the heat of the moment, but clearly it had been gnawing at him.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared, not because I don’t trust you, Shanks.” Your words hung in the air as you prepared yourself to go down this path. “Telling people has never gone well. Last time I nearly died.” You tugged at your neckline to reveal the scar near your collarbone. The night you had received it, you had heard that you didn’t need to be stabbed in the back to be backstabbed. It had somehow healed in a way similar to surgical wounds and was unassuming enough that no one would have guessed it came from your former lover stabbing you with a steak knife. “Hongo only knows because he found it patching me up, not because I confided in him.”

“Why didn’t I find it?” The words slipped out as the question that had been plaguing his mind. Not to be weird, but he had seen nearly every damn inch of your body, so it was strange he would miss something so major.

“Because I didn’t want you to,” you told him with a sad smile. You had done everything in your power to avoid him spotting it, and your years of practice had helped you immensely. Another moment of silence overtook you while you tried to gather your wits. Shanks remained patient, letting you have the floor and speak at your own rate.

"The other day," you started trying not to sound insecure. "I didn't really do a good job at answering your questions." Shanks recalled the mild interrogation you had been put through your first morning on the Red Force. “If you still got them, I will try to answer."

“You don’t need to,” Shanks said softly, knowing you were forcing yourself to be open. He’d seen the way your hands had clutched onto the armrests and how your body had been resisting the urge to go rigid. “I don’t,” you agreed. But I want to.

“What happened,” Shanks asked, his fist already balled from knowing he wouldn’t like the answer. “I already told you,” you said, assuming he’d been referencing how you had gotten yourself in a position to be captured in the first place (sneaking out and drinking).

“I mean after that,” the redhead clarified, his voice more grim than before. "Are you asking what they did to me?" You looked for clarification and he gave you a curt nod.

“You were missing for months.”

"Most of that time is a mystery to me too," you admitted. That time period only existed to you in snippets, none of which had been pleasant. You debated exactly how much you should tell the man if he was already angry from the limited knowledge he did possess.

"I was with them the entire time. It wasn't until the very end that they had gotten me off of their hands. To be honest, they were incredibly dumb for keeping me as long as they did. In their possession, I still had rights. I was still a princess, one that they abducted. I genuinely think it was completely lost on them how fucked they would be if I'd been found, but, you know, that didn't happen." You snorted, despite the lack of humor in the situation. Your soured expression deepened before you continued.

"I was in and out of it a lot. I can't remember half of it." You had to pause to swallow the developing lump in your throat. The memories stung and your eyes grew unwillingly glassy, but you refused to let the tears fall. "Even if I— Even when I tried, I couldn't do anything."

You thought back to all of your escape attempts. It hadn't been hard to outsmart your captors, but they had a trump card. Their captain. That man had been fast and the second he touched you, you would be out like a light. Then there were all the threats you had faced.

It had seemed like they had made bets on who could get you to break first with the way they taunted you, but you never gave them the satisfaction. One of the men, you didn't know his name, but you recalled his wiry blond hair and patchy goatee, must've really taken it to heart. He had been present in nearly all of the lucid memories you had. You would verbally bite back at first, but as time grew on, you had grown feeble. The last time he had harassed you, you'd spat on him and he'd slapped you. To your surprise and pleasure, that had resulted in the man getting more than slapped himself. The mess of a leader pissed that he'd "devalued the merchandise" and had delayed your sale.

"Did you know that the slave mark comes in different sizes?" You questioned, completely changing topics. "They can be as small as a 500 berry or big enough to cover a giant's back." You could still recall the rows of prods baring the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon, how they were all aligned neatly on their racks as a gross contrast to the bits of skin stuck to them. How where they were held had a permanent stench of burning flesh. How it had felt like the room had been designed to echo and amplify the screams of people as they were burned.

"When I came to, after the... I remember them discussing the best size— arguing really. A father buying his son his first..." You paused, some of the words you couldn't bring yourself to say, the harsh reality of that side of the world not something that you wanted to face. "Kid was so young. He...I was a shiny new toy he didn't want to ruin yet, but the dad had different ideas. They settled on starting small and sizing up."

Another pause as bile rose from your stomach that you had to gulp down. The memory was something you very rarely allowed yourself to relive while awake, but your subconscious loved to play with the moment. You wished it was something that you could forget — you wished all of it was, but that wasn't the way of the world.

"They laughed. While someone... they laughed." The scar on your back grew hot at the memory. "The kid clapped and danced, said he liked my screams. He was just a child, four, maybe five. He wanted to try it but when he got close he complained about the smell, which fair enough, I didn't like it either. I passed out shortly after that."

It was unlike any thing Shanks had heard. Casual cruelty was common on the seas, but it was well known that the Celestial Dragons often possessed a different kind of depravity. Even then, no one really talked about how early the indoctrination started. The concept of a child being able to do something so abhorrent wasn't something most people were willing to think about. But it didn't matter, these were cruelties that had no consequences for the people up on Mary Geoise.

"I was—I was so fucking weak, Shanks," you said, addressing him for the first time. The look in your eyes nearly broke him as tears streamed freely down your face. "Never have I ever felt so fucking hopeless in my life.”

You bit your lower lip to stop it from quivering, covering your eyes as if that could hide the tear stains and the sound of your suppressed sobs. Once the tears had stopped falling and the feelings had gone more or less numb, you continued. “Next thing I remember was someone coming at me with another glowing prod, and I — I just screamed. I don't know where the father and son went, but if they were there, I would definitely be dead by now. That’s how I learned about having conqueror’s haki. The guy holding the prod fell, dropping it, and that started the fire.”

Shanks remembered the fire from your recurring nightmares and could put together the rest of the story from there. The hardest part had been restraining his anger because showing it never boded well when people were emotional the way you were, even if it wasn’t directed towards you. That had been easier said than done, of course, especially when the kind of anger he had been feeling bordered on violent. He knew then, for absolute certain, that he would do anything to help you catch the guys who had taken you and had put you in all of these situations.

“Do you want help?” The emperor questioned, desperate to help you get the revenge you wanted. You cocked your head in confusion. He dug through the mess of paper on his desk, grabbing a packet and flipping to a page before handing it over. You scanned the document and were shocked to find your jaw falling open when you found that it detailed information on the captain of the crew that took you.

"How- How did you find all this?" You were in awe at how detailed it was when Shanks had been working off of a vague, nameless description. "I have my ways," Shanks smiled. "How mysterious," you grinned back, grateful to be off such a heavy topic.

“I wasn’t kidding when I toldya you could stay. For as long as you need. There’s even room for you on the crew if ya want,” Shanks said, serious once more. You were shocked by the offer, never in your life would you have predicted that a fucking yonko would offer you a spot on their crew. The yonko in question watched the gears turn in your brain. “Ya don’t have to answer now.”

“No, I-I got an answer. I would like your help if you’re willing,” you stuttered a bit as you collected your thoughts. Shanks grinned at your acceptance of his help. “But, I can’t join your crew.” That certainly took some of the wind out of his sails. He had been hoping (dreaming) that you would stay, even if it wasn’t for him. “I don’t wanna — I can’t be under somebody else like that. I’m not ready for it.” Shanks could understand that, and the outright refusal no longer hurt the same. Besides, you don’t have to be a crew member to stay; maybe it would be better, maybe—

“I would love to keep bleeding your crew dry at cards for as long as you let me,” you said facetiously, hoping he would accept your offer. Well aware of the added benefit of staying in proximity to the infamous redhead.

“Long as I’m not at the table, I’m sure you could,” Shanks joked back in reference to how you had called him a bad luck all those nights ago. “Promise it’s only a problem at the card table.” You hoped your reassurance told him that you were still wanting to be in his company.

After that, banter continued to flow freely between the two of you. The serious conversation switched out for more meaningless ones, and in no time at all, you and Shanks were acting like nothing had ever been wrong in the first place.

~~~~~~~

A tension had existed on the Red Force for days, ever since the crew had left that uninhabited island, but today it had finally become suffocating. During dinner, the mess hall lacked its usual noise, the sound of cutlery ringing out over the hushed tones of those who spoke. The fight between you and Shanks had had a massive impact on morale. It had been felt by everyone onboard, not just those close enough to witness it.

For some of the greener members of the crew, today had been their first time truly facing conqueror’s haki. In the morning, Beckman had been quick enough to act to prevent any issues with Shanks’s flare-up, but nobody could have predicted your outburst. Although it hadn’t been weaponized, it had impacted the younger members nonetheless.

Neither you nor Shanks had been seen for hours. The last anyone had seen of either of you had been around midday out on the main deck where you had argued. Your trunk had remained unmoved since, which was the only reason they knew you were still on the ship. No one had been brave enough to go looking for either of you; they had understood that you both needed space. Still, it was uncomfortable, waiting for an outcome. How things would turn out was far from clear.

The whole crew was on edge, just waiting for a sign. Yasopp’s superior observation haki allowed him to be the first to hear a familiar set of footfalls echoing throughout their ship. {He had finally left the office}. The sniper perked up at the noise, quieting others and shifting the mood. Nobody else could hear it yet, but by Yasopp’s reaction, they could tell who it was. Apprehension spread throughout the room; no one knew what would happen when Shanks arrived.

Yasopp remained listening, cocking his head when he noticed something peculiar. A second set of footsteps that had fallen in stride with the first; the question of who they belonged to answered with the faint sound of your laugh far down the hallway. His shoulders relaxed and the corners of his mouth upturned. The sound of your voice had been heard by several of the senior officers who had also relaxed.

Not a moment later, Shanks swung open the door, holding it for you while laughing at something that you had said. The two of you had made up. A wave of relief washed over the Red Hair Pirates, in part for their sake but also for yours.

Their boss had been so engrossed in whatever you had been saying that he hadn’t greeted, much less acknowledged anyone. While it had been out of character, perhaps it was for the best. The two of you seemed lost in your own little world, locked in conversation. A silent understanding was made to not disturb the peace. It wasn’t yet clear if either of you would go off again, so it was in the crew’s best interest to let you both be. Plus, it was what a majority of them had been rooting for in the first place.

Senior officers and more seasoned members of the crew had taken note of how Shanks’s behavior changed around you. Even if you had missed them, his glances your way had not been subtle, and he had made no effort to hide them. When he’d talk about you, he would become more animated; just the mention of your name would pull him further into conversation. It hadn’t been clear if he knew what he was doing, but that didn’t really matter when the outcome was the same.

You and Shanks ate dinner together, sitting side by side and talking very animatedly. The two of you interacting as if you had known each other for years not just weeks. Just like your falling out, none of them knew what had caused the 180 in your behaviors, but again it didn’t really matter. Although the both of you looked absolutely exhausted — the bags under your eyes noticeable from across the poorly lit room — it was also as if someone had breathed life back into you.

A boisterous laugh came from the notorious man, drawing the attention of the crowd that had been pretending that they weren’t there. You quickly joined in on his laughter, only to devolve into a coughing fit. Shanks, assuming you were choking, started to panic. His eyes nearly bugging out of his skull, he rapidly and repeatedly asked if you were okay.

“Oh my god, this isn’t gonna take me out. Relax,” you laughed between coughs, amused by his fear. When he didn’t calm down, you whacked him upside the head. “I literally just swallowed wrong. You’re so dramatic,” you teased with a final cough. The redhead pouted at your comment, and you chuckled at his reaction. Unfortunately, that made you cough a couple of more times, and pirate captain freaked out once again. In his worry, he knocked a plate of food onto your lap.

“Shit, Y/n, ‘m sorry,” Shanks said while he tried his best to help.

“It’s okay,” you said, grabbing his wrist to stop him from making it worse. He looked into your eyes and was relieved to find no trace of anger in them. You let out a yawn, dropping his wrist to cover your mouth. “I gotta change n go to sleep anyways. Think it’s been two days since I slept. I’m boutta to pass out,” you admitted, your words almost slurred with sleepiness.

When you stood, he saw the tell-tale signs of your fatigue for the first time. He didn’t need to ask to know what had been keeping you awake — the nightmares.

“Do you—“ Shanks started, cutting himself off. The emperor realized that offering to sleep together, even if it had been in the literal sense, wouldn’t be his best move. He’d just gotten you back again, he wasn’t willing to risk pushing you way once more by coming on too strong.

You smiled at him, understanding what he’d been about to say. “I won’t turn it down, Captain,” you said playfully. “Now if you’ll please forgive me I got”— you gestured down to the food on your clothes —“whatever this is all over me and would very much like not to.” The statement had earned a small “hey!” in objection from the chef, not that you had noticed.

“Understandable,” the captain chuckled. Shanks watched you leave, his heart rate increasing when you turned around to wave at him before disappearing.

Shanks whistled off-tune to himself as he cleaned up the mess he’d made. Before he left himself, he stopped to grab an apple, which was something of a rarity on the ship. Wearing a big smile, he tossed the fruit into the air as he left the room.

“Pay up,” Limejuice told Building Snake after a moment, out stretching his hand. Since your arrival on the ship, there had been a betting pool of who would confess first and when, with the navigator being the one to collect the pot. It hadn’t felt right to hand out winnings when the situation had been so rocky, but now that things had been resolved, money was owed. Several other voices pipped up about their dues as well, even arguing that their bet should count on a technicality.

All went quiet when Shanks popped his head back through the door. Instead of scolding the crew for betting on his personal life, like they had thought, the redhead called for his first mate. Standing up, Benn Beckman mouthed “pay me later” to the navigator before leaving. Typically, he wasn’t one to participate in such bets, but he had been confident enough this time to put in a high wager.

“You’re in a good mood,” Beck commented, stating the obvious as he followed his boss down the halls.

“Heh, yeah,” the captain admitted, his smile only growing. “She’s incredible.” Following the discussion earlier, Shanks had been more willing to let his guard down, allowing the effects of sleep deprivation to hit him. It echoed some of the effects of alcohol on the man. Only after Beck had made that observation did Shanks’s demeanor shift.

Now that they were in a more private area of the ship, the yonko stopped and turned to his first mate very seriously, a dark look in his eyes. “I need you to keep looking into that Aithan guy, find out what he is up to and who he is associated with. His past associates too— ‘specially fourteen years ago.”

“What’d she tell ya?” Beck asked. He had kept the alert out for anything associated with the devil fruit you had described but had yet to put one out on the man himself. Anger flashed over Shanks’s face at the memory.

“I gotta do all I can to help her,” he said, not answering the question. As far as the yonko was concerned, it was not his place to share the details you had told him; Beck knew enough as it was.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Beck assured him, but that hadn’t been enough for the Red-Haired Shanks.

“I know you have your ways. Track him down, Beck. I want his location by the end of the week. I don’t care how, just get it.”

“Understood, Boss,” Benn Beckman.

“Good, now if you’ll excuse me, I got sleep and a pretty lady waiting for me,” Shanks said, back to a smile. The redhead handed Beck the apple in his hand and took off towards his quarters.

~~~~~~~

You had been just about to crawl into bed after a quick bath and a change of clothes when you heard a knock at your door. Your heart raced with the knowledge of who it was. Eagerly, you opened the door and let Shanks in. No words were spoken between you two as you crawled into bed and patted the spot next to you.

The day had been hard for you, digging up those kind of memories often resulted in a sleepless night. You hoped that maybe this time it would be different due to your exhaustion, it was nice to have him around just in case.

Shanks happily joined you, your body relaxing the moment he pulled yours into his. Your eyes were heavy and his warmth was calming. He traced mindless patterns on your back, having discovered it soothed you in the past. His hand accidentally slid under your shirt, which had ridden up significantly earlier, and you hummed in approval before he could move his hand away. Feeling at ease, you quickly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Shanks, however, stayed awake staring at the ceiling as he continued to draw on your back. You draped your leg over him and he would’ve thought you to be awake had it not been for your soft snores against his chest. He could barely keep his eyes open when his fingertips brushed against something rough on your skin, but he didn’t have time to process what it was as he drifted off to sleep for the first time in days.

thank you for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it 💕

~~~~~~

end a/n: i’m not in elbaf so if you know something i don’t know, pls forgive me

i don't wanna make any promises but i do already have p5 planned and am excited to write it, so hopefully its not another three month wait, we are nearing the end, i only have plans for 6 parts then maybe some in universe one offs idk we'll see

also bc idk how to stfu here's a post that's really just a longer a/n

tags: @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @eravariety @a3fv

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stuckinmymind22 · 12 days ago

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captain's girl

☆ characters: akagami no shanks

☆ up next: tbd

☆ summary: shanks has always had a soft spot for you but as he spends more time around you that feeling intensifies- he's fallen, and hard.. how will he confess?

☆ a/n: i lost the ask that originally submitted this but i loved this prompt! so so cute and always lovely to write for my favorite captain.. shanks nation rise!

Shanks hadn’t slept in days.

Shanks- an emperor, had been a pirate for decades and he knew well what it meant to be selfish. To be faced with all the treasure and beauty in the World and it not be enough until one had it all to himself. But he’d only ever seen it. In allies and enemies alike he had seen that corrupting burning want- no, need for something that drives one nearly mad. He’d seen fellow seamen be consumed by this bubbling and boiling desire that had always sickened him to think about.

And then there was you. Beautiful, strong-willed, and unafraid of pirates and men and danger and swords and, all of the sudden, he began feeling the symptoms of that dangerous selfishness. He’d watch you laugh with Benn, or cook with Lucky, or play cards with Yasopp and his chest would tighten. His nerves would begin to ebb and flow in uncertainty and the terrifyingly unfamiliar feeling of jealousy began to sprout within the captain of the Red Haired Pirates. He’d spend hours poring over a potential solution– something to make it go away. But everything he tried was useless. Any slight progress immediately crumbled the moment you walked by him. He’d found a nice girl on an island and flirted with her, buying her drinks, treating her special as the rest of the crew began to pour into the bar. It was working! She liked the same music as him and thought he was funny. But then you’d walked in with Beckman, your perfume immediately recognizable to him and he folded. You were entirely captivating to him, and bless him, he tried to listen to the girl in front of him and feign interest in what she was saying but all he could focus on was the sound of you laughing and thanking the men who were sending drinks your way. On a separate occasion, he’d taken a different approach. You were in a particularly cheeky mood and not the most prone to taking orders, so he got frustrated. He leant into that frustration, barking at you for not listening. But you just rolled your eyes and begrudgingly got up to do what he was asking. As you walked past him, you raked a fingernail across his chest and offered assistance if he needed “any help de-stressing.” And with a wink you were off. After that little incident, he could hardly sleep and was quite literally plagued by (very inappropriate) thoughts of you and decided it would be best if he didn’t do anything for a while. This had been going on for months now. A one sided game of cat and mouse that Shanks did not want to be playing, after all, he wasn't used to playing the role of mouse. Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

But he was realizing there was no escape. Constantly you teased him, tempted him, lured him, all to act like nothing the next moment. His head was spinning. Just this morning, you ran into him at breakfast and asked if he wanted to go into town with you. He came up with some half assed excuse and tried his hardest to keep his composure when you pouted at his and said, “Pretty please?” He went up and moped in his office, going over all those moments when he felt that now familiar ache in his chest– that throbbing pain that felt like his swollen heart was being mushed up against his ribcage and had been making his daily life on the ship, oh, so inconvenient.

Like a few months ago when, in your typical fashion, you’d put together a small band out of the rag-tag musicians on the crew. An upright bass player out of your intel gatherer, a drummer out of one of Hongo’s assistants, some brass players that you put through a very selective audition, and, of course, you as the singer. He remembers walking out after having a few drinks with those of his men that he was closest with and hearing the sound of your voice singing a soft jazz tune. ‘I wish you bluebirds, in the spring…..’ his heart picking up a bit, and him leaning over to look at the band playing, ‘To give your heart a song to sing, and then a kiss…’ Him rushing down the stairs and urging the crew to dance, asking Lucky to get behind the bar and start making cocktails and drinks, ‘But more than this, I wish you love’ anything so that he could sit and listen to you. He remembers the boyish surge of energy that coursed through him when you shot him a playful wink. A thank you for entertaining your antics and encouraging your little band of criminal musicians.

Or last week, when you stopped by his office (he’d begun spending more and more time locked in there attempting to find reprieve from your presence which was quickly becoming all too much for him to be around) and knocked on his door in the way you always knocked on any door. Three rhythmic little taps, always quiet and polite. “Come in!” he’d said, forcing his voice to steady itself like his heart wasn’t crawling up into his throat. “Hey Shanks– I have something for you.” You made your way to his desk, dropping a little parcel on it before going to lay down on the couch in his office, a seat he always kept open for you. It was just an old leather chair, but he knew how much you liked it. He opened up the parcel, watching you pull out a cigarette and bring it to your lips, holding it droopily between them as you dug around in your jacket for a lighter. He finished unwrapping the gift, a compass falling out. Gold and the initials R.H.S. engraved in the back. The glass had been carved out so that it was angular and there was a detailed inking of the ocean in the back, and the north arrow was dark red. He turned it over in his palm, “R.H.S.?” he asked. “It’s funny, huh! Red-Hair-Shanks,” you laughed, “It made Benny crack up so I snatched it. They wanted $15,000 for it! Like hell was I gonna pay that…. Hey, do you have a lighter?” You walked back over to him, leaning on his desk, looking down at his face, batting your eyes at him all doe-like. He felt like he might faint. 'Benny' he felt a pang of jealousy but smiled to himself at the nickname. Beckman hated nicknames but you'd started calling him Benny and for the first time ever there was no protest from the man's lips. You'd wiggled your way into all their hearts like that- helping Lucky with groceries and keeping Yasopp company when he drank more than he could stand.

“Sure do, sweetheart,” he maintained his typical flirty cadence but failed to sound as confident as he usually does. You shot him a look. He sheepishly handed you the lighter but instead of taking it you leant over further, beckoning for him to light the cigarette for you. He swallowed and brought the lighter up to the cigarette, the two of you making eye contact as he lit it. You blew a playful puff of smoke at him before making your way back over to the sofa. You laid across it, kicking your shoes off and pulling a magazine from his shelf. “Playboy? Really?” He gave you an embarrassed grin and shrugged. You made a mental note that this magazine had been left open on a photo of a bikini-clad girl that looked an awful like you. Pervert, you thought. You put the magazine away and sunk further into the chair, taking long drags of the cigarette, filling up the room with smoke. Shanks was trying not to stare a hole through you and limited himself from looking over in your general direction. You were so at peace, your legs draped over the arm of the chair and your hands above your head. An hour passed like this, the two of you sharing a silence that was only peaceful on your end. Shanks sat at his desk pretending to be deeply interested in a blank piece of paper and mulled over possible topics of conversation. He was trying not to beat himself up over his newfound shyness- he was like a teenage boy talking to a girl for the first time. When he finally got the courage to ask you about your most recent errand he was cut off before he could even start.

“Y/n!!! Help me with dinner, eh?!”

Lucky. You groaned sitting up, remembering that you’d promised to help him out with tonight’s dinner last week. “Sorry, Captain,” you said, putting your shoes back on, “I’d love to stay and fog up your office a bit more but duty calls.”

He nodded and got up, nearly running into you. “Ah, sorry princess,” he said, guiding you gently out of the room with a hand on your back.

“Try not to miss me,” you’d said, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and placing it in his. He furrowed his brows in equal amounts of confusion and sexual frustration. “Lucky won’t let me smoke in the kitchen,” you explained. You shot him a wink and were off.

He took a short puff of the cigarette before taking it out and staring at it between his fingers. Your red lipstick stained the end of it. He took a very self indulgent inhale before setting it down on an ashtray in his office. It was the first time he’d smoked in a while.

He hadn’t remembered it feeling so good.

He was late to dinner that night and even Benn had indicated some degree of worry about his captain, asking if he was alright.

Shanks knew this couldn’t last forever– that he would have to do something before he lost his ability to lead his ship entirely. But then, of course, there was what happened yesterday.

Some rookie pirates had convinced themselves it would be a good idea to try and loot your ship. You’d been out on the deck helping Beckman with some chores when the first group of them climbed overboard. Neither of you had particularly expressive reactions– after all, you could tell within a few seconds that they were neither strong nor experienced. Still, it was the general attitude of the Red Hair Pirates to avoid conflict as much as possible. So when they wrapped rope around your wrists and held knives to your throats you and Benn didn’t flinch. Some newer recruits had sounded the alarm which eventually led to the rest of the crew making their way lazily out onto the deck. Shanks emerged from his office, reading glasses still on and laughed at the sight.

“Yasopp– take a pic, will ya!?” he laughed, slapping him on the back, “Benny we’re gonna hang this up in the dining hall!”

Benn rolled his eyes and you smiled. It took another several moments before you realized that your body was feeling more and more weakened by the moment, but when you finally felt a dullness creeping up your legs you noticed that the man holding you was a devil fruit user. The Neru Neru no Mi you believed it was called, Sleep Sleep Fruit. Fatigue started to wash over you and you stumbled forward slightly. The laughter on the ship immediately ceased and Benn called your name. You tried responding but instead fell back, landing against your assailant's chest. Yasopp and Lucky both brought their hands to their pistols, and Benn had taken a more offensive stance though it was clear the effect was starting to weigh on him as well.

“We’ll kill them both,” one of the looters had yelled. Yasopp shot Shanks a look, waiting for some kind of command. “Yasopp–” Shanks started, but he hesitated a moment. If his sniper made any kind of mistake it would be your life taken instead. Before he could react, your captor had drawn the knife down your arm, smirking at the cry of pain you let out as your arm was coated in red. “Shoot him,” he said, gaze turning black. You passed out, though whether it was from the pain or the effect of Shanks’ emperor’s haki on your weakened body was unclear. But the last thing you saw before blacking out was the haunting anger on Shanks’ face.

You woke up a bit later, your head throbbing and your arm bandaged. “Holy shit,” you muttered, “What happened?” Hongo and Beckman were sitting by your bed talking to each other and Lucky, Yasopp, and a few others were playing cards.

"You passed out from the effects of the devil fruit," Benn explained, "And you got a nasty cut on your arm. But Hongo says you'll be healed up by the weekend."

You blushed, somewhat embarrassed that you were the only one to have been injured. "What happened to the other crew?"

Benn shot you a half-smile. An expressive mixture of pride and shame. "The Captain took care of it. Honestly all we could do was watch, we all know better than to get in his way when he gets like that. Never seen this ship so bloody, that's for sure."

You grimaced, "Suppose they won't be messing with us again?"

Benn laughed, "Definitely not."

“Hey, Y/n!” Lucky called out, “Want anything to eat?”

You sat up, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed and grabbing the glass of water Benn offered you, “Yeah, Luck. I’ll take anything, honestly. Where is Shanks?” Benn sighed and looked over at Yasopp who was giggling like a twelve-year old. You got the message.

“Maybe we should tell him it’s obvious? And it’ll fix things?”

Benn shook his head and leant back in his chair, “Nah, it would crush the guy. Maybe if you say something to him, though?” You thought about it for a minute. You'd talked with each other before about the captain's feelings. How he acted every time he was around you. Benn added that he'd never seen him like that before, "Buggy's given us stories about how he used to be around girls. He'd run the other way when a pretty lady talked to him. He's obviously gotten over it since then but it's sort of nice to see him like this."

"Can't blame him," Yasopp added, winking at you, "You're about the prettiest thing on the sea."

Yasopp was still laughing about it, over a game of cards with Lucky and Hongo. You appreciated their company while you rested.

“I don’t know guys. You know I love him just as much but will it be weird? I mean– no offense, but this ship isn’t really the ideal romantic setting. And what if he plays favorites?”

They all laughed at this, “He already is, sweetheart!”

“Just tell him!”

“We’ll have a big ol’ wedding!”

You rolled your eyes and asked to be dealt into the card game they were playing. Lucky came back with a bowl of soup for you. Laughter was filling up the small medical room and it echoed down the hall...

Shanks’ crush on you was astoundingly obvious and what was more surprising was how he had been moping about it for the past four months. He was now in his room, shrouded in embarrassment. Half of it stemmed from the generally well known fact that Shanks and his crew were untouchable- or at least, should be. And the other, perhaps greater, half from the fact that you'd ended up hurt because he’d hesitated. It also didn't help that he had doubted Yasopp at all- he knew he never missed. He’d spent the evening drinking a bottle of whiskey to himself and replaying other embarrassing faux pas he’d committed in front of you. The bottle of empty whiskey sat in front of him on the desk and the sun had long set. He got up, feeling miserable, and decided to head to bed. He grabbed the empty bottle, pausing before he grabbed it. Your cigarette from a week ago sat in the mauve ceramic ashtray on his desk (also a gift from you– you’d said it reminded you of his “ugly pants”). He stared at the lipstick still staining the white paper on the end of the cigarette. His chest tightened and he looked out the window of his office. You were out on deck, your arm bandaged up, hauling some rope into a metal bin. He smiled to himself- an injury like that was no excuse for chores. You looked gorgeous. A white glow surrounded you from the beaming moonlight up above. Your hair was messy and flowed freely around your face shifting the shadows that fell on it. He knew, suddenly, that he had to talk to you. That in all his embarrassment and emotion and confusion about his feelings, he’d neglected to check up on you. He set the bottle down and grabbed the half-smoked cigarette, slipping it into his pocket. He paused at the door, momentarily enjoying the nerves that were coursing through his body. How long had it been since he last felt excitement like this? There were moments at sea where he realized that, thanks to his age and experience, he no longer felt those pangs and throes of youthful worry and excitement. But this? This was new and he was reeling like never before. He was submerged in uncharted waters and all of a sudden that spark of adventure that follows every pirate flared up inside him. Shanks closed the door to his office behind him, taking a deep breath.

You wrapped up the rest of the rope and threw it into the container, before taking a seat on it. Closing your eyes and taking a moment to yourself. It was rare to have a night so quiet. You could hear the faint sound of laughter and talking coming from below the deck. The ship was slowly rocking back and forth.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

You blinked your eyes open to see Shanks standing in front of you. It still surprised you how a man of his size and power could sneak up on you so easily. It was a nice reminder of how in control he actually was of everything around him. It put you at ease to know you were in such responsible hands and guidance.

“You feel ok? It’s my fault I should’ve–”

You smiled at him, “What? This? I’m fine, Captain– I’ve dealt with much worse, that I can promise you.” He frowned at that, “That’s not a good thing, Y/n. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt.” You shrugged and ruffled his hair, “I’m a pirate. A Red-Hair Pirate. It’s bound to happen. And you’re not perfect either. Believe it or not. What’s going on with you lately? So sappy.” You knew very well what was going on with him.

Shanks smiled and looked down at the floor. This was it. Now or never.

“Y/n… You know that, well, women love me and- and that I love women,” he started. Your smile dropped.

“M-hm.”

“Uh,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, like a child getting scolded, “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re not like other women.”

You looked at him, “Are you sure about that?” You looked unamused. He steeled himself– he was an emperor of the sea, goddamnit, you were just a woman! Just a girl on his crew.

He knew that was a lie.

You were his girl on his crew. And he was being eaten alive by your existence, completely consumed by the thought of you. He couldn’t live another day without relieving himself of his constant torture and the emotional suffering you put him through. He couldn’t wake up another morning without you next to him, begging him to sleep in a bit longer and asking him to hold you tighter. He couldn’t spend another night watching you laugh and smile and be the most beautiful, enchanting thing in the world and not call you his. You were his, not through ownership but through love.

“Alright! Damn it, woman, you’re so intimidating.” Your smile returned.

“I love you,” he sighed. It wasn’t as dramatic as either of you had pictured. He said it like he was simply reminding you.

“I love you, Y/n. And I have for months. Since I first saw you– since you first started giving me random antique shop gifts and coming into my office at the most inconvenient times and filling it up with smoke. I can’t look at the color red and not think of you. That’s my color, damn it! And yet– I see red and think of the brand of cigarettes you like and the lipstick you wear and the way your laughter sounds and the color of your nail polish. I can’t listen to music and not think of you. I mean- you’ve come on board and turned everything upside down. My men, my violent men, are playing jazz on Thursday nights! Lucky’s new favorite thing to drink is Cosmopolitans and Yasopp is taking daily showers and, christ, Benn’s new nickname is Benny and he likes it! Everything I have reminds me of you. This is basically your ship now. And I love it. I love how you're everywhere. And I- I need you. I want you but it's more than that- I need you.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you for the first time in weeks. You laughed- at him, and grabbed his hand. His cheeks turned bright red and he felt like a teenager again. You squeezed his hand, “F-i-n-a-l-l-y.” He took a moment to sound out your spelling, and smiled somewhat defeatedly. He laid his head down on your shoulder and mumbled into you, “Was it obvious?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head against his. It was refreshing to touch him without it being strange or feeling unnatural. To just hold one another and understand that that was all it was– a touch. That before either of you said anything and broke this mundane, normal silence everything was perfect. There was no room for mistake or anxiety or insecurity. There was just the mass of red hair on your shoulder ticking your neck and your arms wrapped around his. But you figured he’d suffered long enough.

“Very,” you said, answering his question, “There’re a bunch of betting pools regarding when, and if, you’ll confess. Though you don’t make a great effort to hide it. Looks like Benny’s gonna make some cash tonight.”

He shot up, somewhat offended, “I do hide it! I’ve kept my distance from you and treated you like everyone else.”

You laughed and sat him down on the bin next to you, “No, you haven’t. I’m your favorite. And though you have been avoiding me, when you’re around me your face is pink and you lose all that playboy gusto you think the ladies like. Plus you have those magazines lying around. It flatters me how much I resemble some of those models.”

His mouth fell open at this, realizing he had left it wide out in the open. You smiled at this, but said nothing. It was quiet out again– everyone had gone to bed early, tired from the day’s commotion, an unexpected change of pace from the typical mundane life of a pirate at sea that normally consisted of chores upon chores upon chores. The sea was calm tonight, almost eerily so. You rested your head against Shank’s shoulder and closed your eyes, it was quiet again. You could tell he was itching for a response. You smiled, enjoying the effect you had on him.

“I love you, too.”

You felt Shanks tense and opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He had a stupidly large smile plastered on his face. He was so damn handsome. His hand slid up your back and came to rest on your neck. He gently pushed your face toward his, a smile creeping up your lips, and tested the waters. You closed the gap, closing your eyes as you kissed your captain, shifting forward and finding your way onto his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you could feel him smiling against your lips. Shanks broke the kiss, pulling away after giving you a few more pecks.

His arm sank down to wrap around your waist and pull you in even tighter. He rested his forehead against yours and looked down at your lips, plump from the kissing.

“You’re mine,” he said.

“Yours.”

He sighed, relief flooding his body. You rubbed his neck, "Guess I wasn't as obvious as you, hm?" He laughed and squeezed your hand, "No. God, I was terrified. What an awful feeling."

You smiled. You were getting tired, and your arm was throbbing. "Wanna come with me to see Hongo? I think my arm should get re-wrapped." He nodded, standing up. You walked toward the infirmary, while Shanks stood back for a moment. Waiting awkwardly.

"Shanks?"

His name had never sounded so lovely. He was worried, "Should we tell people yet? The crew- I mean."

You laughed, and kept walking, "I think they'll figure out on their own. After all, I suspect that I'll be greeting them tomorrow morning with your shirt on."

He watched you walk on ahead a bit more before following after you, scooping you up in his arm and pressing kisses to your face. Shanks dropped you off outside of Hongo's door, letting you go in on your own. 'I want tonight to be just us,' you'd explained. Word does travel quickly on a ship. He waited outside the door, listening to you and Hongo talk while he rebandaged your arm. His chest felt warm and full, not with the previous tightness he'd experienced but full with satisfaction.

A familiar ebbing flow of egoism spread through his body. It was nice to be reminded of who he was. An emperor of the sea with one of the highest bounties of all time. A man feared and respected across the world. Wanted by the world government and untouchable to anyone. Almost anyone. Your voice bubbled up over the sound of his thoughts for a moment. His confidence had quickly reinstated itself.

After all, Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

#i love this one so much #rec

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