#Red-Haired Pirates

[softonshanks]

Real man

Word count: 2100 Characters: Shanks x female reader Plot: Everybody always had the time of their life on the Red Force at night, but Y/N tonight seems sad, even if she usually dances all night. The crew is concerned about her behavior and Shanks tries to investigate: he finds out that she is heartbroken because her boyfriend left her. He tries to console her: one day the right man, a real man, will come and love her as she deserves. But what if he's that man?

Author’s note: Honestly? I’m in love with how this turned out, but I am mortified about the length. Words just kept flowing out of my fingers and I couldn’t stop. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it, even if it’s a bit sad. Also, there are references to a bit of age gap (imagine late twenties – early forties), I hope no one will be concerned or offended. Let me know if you like it and as always, english is not my first language, so I apologise if something is wrong. 

The deck of the Red Force was alive with music, laughter, and the clink of tankards filled to the brim with rum. The crew swayed and stumbled in time to the music, their voices raised in raucous cheer. It was a scene Shanks had orchestrated countless times before—a night of celebration, letting loose under the stars, sailing with nothing but freedom on the horizon. But tonight felt different. Y/N sat apart from the crowd, her back against one of the ship’s sturdy masts, knees pulled up to her chest. Her gaze drifted over the crew as they danced and shouted, lost in their revelry, but her heart wasn’t in it. She clenched her tankard in both hands, staring into the dark liquid inside it as if it might hold some answers, something to make her feel better and fill the hollow ache inside her.

But it didn’t.

“Oi, Y/N!” Yasopp called from the center of the party, swaying slightly with a grin on his face. “Where are you hiding? You’re the true queen of parties!”

Shanks was beside him, his arm slung lazily over the sniper’s shoulder, his laughter booming across the deck. “She’s probably nursing that drink,” Shanks called out, his voice teasing. “Last time she got lucky, but deep down she knows she can’t outdrink me!”

“Still can’t accept that you are not the best drinker on the ship, eh Shanks?,” Benn teased him, as he took a long drag out of his cigarette.

That had been the game—Y/N and Shanks facing off in drinking contests, him always so sure that he’d win, and her always proving him wrong. Despite her small frame, she had a resilience, a fire inside her that burned bright enough to match his. But tonight, that fire was dim. Y/N forced a weak smile and raised her tankard half-heartedly in their direction, but she didn’t get up. Yasopp caught the look in her eyes, his grin fading slightly, and nudged Shanks in the ribs.

“Something’s off,” Yasopp muttered, lowering his voice. Shanks watched her more closely now: the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze kept drifting out to the horizon instead of to the party. He’d noticed it earlier, how she had been quieter, distant, her usual sharp retorts and bright laughter absent from the night, but he thought it was just a moment, a sudden tiredness that had momentarily slowed down her tireless spirit.

He crossed the deck, his noisy flipflops on the wood, stopping just in front of her. She looked up, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and tried to smile again, but it faltered. 

“Mind if I join you?” Shanks asked, his voice softer now.

Y/N shrugged, scooting over to make room. He sat beside her, his larger frame casting a long shadow over her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party feeling oddly distant despite being just a few feet away. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You should be out there,” he said, nodding toward the party. “Dancing. Drinking. Outdrinking Yasopp and me of course, even though I’ll never admit it.”

Y/N managed a small smile but didn’t turn to face him. “Not tonight, Captain.”

Shanks frowned. He wasn’t used to this side of her. Y/N was always the one pulling others out of their funks, the one who lit up a room with a laugh that could make even the most serious men crack a smile. He hated seeing her like this—quiet, withdrawn, a far cry from the lively woman he had grown to care about far more than he should have. Shanks tipped his head back, looking at the stars, then glanced sideways at her. “So,” he began, keeping his tone light, “you planning on moping all night, or are you gonna tell me what’s got you looking like Benn stealing your last glass of rum that time?”

She let out a short, humorless laugh and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you sit out a party,” Shanks said, nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, spit it out.”

Y/N bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the tankard. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to let the words spill out. But Shanks was patient, his presence warm and steady beside her, and finally, she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Jim broke up with me,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “That idiot? I should’ve thrown him overboard the first time I saw him”. He tried to keep his usual calm tone, but his voice was hardening despite his attempt to stay calm.

Despite herself, Y/N let out a small laugh. “He was… charming. At first.”

“Charm doesn’t make up for being an asshole,” Shanks said bluntly. He paused, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Y/N hesitated, then sighed again, looking down at her hands. “He said I wasn’t enough for him. Said I was too… childish. That I didn’t know what it meant to be in a real relationship, not serious enough for true commitment. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Shanks’ face darkened, a rare flash of anger crossing his features. “He doesn’t know a thing about you. You’re better off without him.”

“That's perfect, 'cause he dumped me,” she said, her voice cracking just slightly at the end.

Shanks knew Y/N had been seeing this guy, a merchant, if he remembered correctly – in one of the port towns of the Island they were staying. Tall, good-looking in that clean-cut, boring sort of way. He had never liked him, though he hadn’t said anything to Y/N about it. He watched her leave the ship when they had free time, saying she was going to see him. For two months straight, he always greeted her with a smile, but his feeling were a different story. She’s young, he used to tell himself. She’s just like you when you were younger, she should be having fun. You are just her old captain. Let her be.

Now, knowing what had happened, he felt a surge of anger. He wished he had told her sooner that he knew that guy was no good for her. But the inability to tell if his instinct were right as usual, or if this time jealousy had won him over, forced him to stay silent. Shanks felt a hot burst of fury in his chest. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from showing, but it was there—sharp and sudden. 

“That idiot doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Shanks said, his voice rougher than he intended. “He’s blind if he can’t see how lucky he was to be near someone who is joufyll like you. If he can’t handle you living your life on your own terms, then he’s not worth the salt in his veins”.

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she looked away quickly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know, I just… it just feels like… like maybe there’s something wrong with me. My parents used to tell me too, you know” she said, making the alcohol in her glass dangerously move. “You’re too loud,” she tried to emulate the disappointed tone of her mother’s voice, after having chugged all she had in her glass. “You can’t take life seriously,” she repeated once again, feeling her mother’s stare on her. Y/N took the half empty bottle of rum Shanks had in his hands, pouring the dark liquor in her tankard once again.

Shanks felt a pang in his chest, seeing her like this. She was always the one laughing, teasing, strong in a way that made the world seem lighter just by being in it. Seeing her doubt herself—seeing her hurt like this—made him want to punch something, or better yet, find that merchant and make him regret ever crossing her path.

He wanted to maker her feel better again, so Shanks tried for levity, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. “Sounds like you dodged a cannonball to me you know,” he said, his voice dipping into that easy, familiar drawl. “Can you imagine? Spending your life with a man like that? He’d probably make you wear fancy dresses and drink tea at noon. You'd be already asleep at this hour”.

Y/N let out a snort of laughter, despite herself, but it quickly turned into a quiet sob. She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking, and Shanks’ heart twisted in his chest. He hated seeing her like this—so small, so vulnerable. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but firm. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle now, the teasing gone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked about it. You know me, I can’t take life seriously either,” tried to joke once more.

She shook her head, lowering her hands from her face, smiling to him through tears. “No, it’s not that, I’m fine”, she explained, watching the look of concern growing on Shank’s face. “Seriously, I’m fine. I knew it wasn’t going to last, I just…” she stayed silent for a second, trying to gather the right words. She tried to catch breath, trying not to hate herself more than she was already doing. First, the thing with that idiot, now this: crying in front of her Captain, looking so weak and so…so ugly, with her eyes red, the snot coming out of her nose, the puffy face. She started slowing down her breath, but this was just too much so she let another deep sob escape her.  

Shanks’ hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer, then slid down her arm until their fingers brushed. He hesitated, torn between the urge to comfort her and the gnawing uncertainty that had been eating at him for weeks—his feelings for her, the tension between them that he had tried to ignore. Shanks felt a knot tighten in his chest. Of course, that dumbass wasn’t worth it. The man was a fool for leaving her, for not seeing what Shanks had seen in her all along. But how could he say that? How could he tell her what was really on his mind?

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so instead, he took her by the arm, leading her away from the noise and the crowd, past the cabins and down the stairs toward a quiet corner of the ship where they wouldn’t be disturbed. She followed without protest, though her mind was racing. She had never seen Shanks so serious, so intent on something.

Y/N sat down the last step, Shanks let go of her arm and ran a hand through his red hair, exhaling sharply. He leaned against the wall, staring at the ground, his brow furrowed as if he was struggling with something inside of him. She was young and despite her fierce independence, there was a fragility to her that he didn’t want to break. He knew the kind of life he lived wasn’t fair to someone like Y/N—someone who chose this life, but indeed deserved stability, safety, a love that didn’t come with a price. 

He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “Y/N,” he began, his voice rougher than he intended, “you deserve better than some fool who can’t see how amazing you are. You’re strong, you’re smart, and you’ve got a fire in you that no man should ever try to snuff out. You will hurt tonight, but tomorrow you will be fine, and it’s okay. But trust me, please, you don’t have to change for anyone,” the words come quick, like a cascade out of his mouth. 

Then, he placed his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. His chin resting upon her head, her face buried in his chest. Y/N breathing slowed down, finding comfort and warmth in Shanks’ arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and he felt something break inside him as she quietly whispered something that made him freeze. “I hope I will meet someone as kind as you”. She absent-mindedly let it slip, her brain incapable of being as sharp as it usually was. Between all the emotions she was feeling, all the sadness bottled up inside trying to come out, she wan’t as attentive as always. Shanks couldn’t keep this up—this careful distance he had been maintaining, this charade of just being her captain and friend. Not when she looked at him like that. But he had to. 

“Why does it hurt so much?,” she asked, loosening her grip.

“Because that’s what we do: we feel things,” he told her, feeling uncomfortable as she started slipping away.

“Tell me that it does get better,” she begged him, wiping a tear off her face, in the vain act of regaining some dignity. “Tell me that when you grow up you will feel like you know it, like you have it all figured it out”.

He feels a soft smile coming through his face. 

“No, it does’t”, he realveas passing his now-sadly-free-hand in his red hair. “It’s just a fucking mess, but trust me, it’s beautiful. It won’t be better, but it will be worth it”. 

Shanks starts to move slowly towards the door, about to go out, in desperate need of air or, even better, another drink. He needed to go away, before he’d say – or worst, he’d do – something stupid. Y/N stayed there, smiling and thinking about his answer. As soon as she notices his movements, watching him as he tries to leave, she feels a new wave of sadness hitting her.

“Come back?,” she asks with a wishper, hoping it will be loud enough for him to her her. He turns around, smiling at her softly once again. She signs him to come closer, but he reassures her. “I’ll be here in a few seconds, I am just going to grab something to drink for both of us, alright?,” he asks her, incapable of controlling the tenderness in his voice. She nods and sits on the ground, waiting for him. “Shanks,” she calls again as he takes a step back, once again. “Can you steal a cigarette from Benn for me?” asked, still her voice shaky. He let out a soft laugh, raising his thumbs at her.

Shanks stepped out of the cabin and closed the door softly behind him, taking a deep breath. The weight of the air felt lighter out here, away from Y/N’s sorrowful gaze, but the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. He ran a hand through his messy red hair, shaking off the vulnerability that had started creeping in while he comforted her. Who would have thought this was were this night was going: he thought that he could just get drunk and have with her and the crew what they usually do but no, that idiot had to break her heart and now there she is, crying and aching, while he tempts to console her, carefully trying to not let his feeling take the best of him.

"Alcohol. Need some alcohol," he muttered to himself as he came on the deck again, the clamor of voices suddenly filling the air.

“Oi, Captain!” Lucky Roux called out from where the crew had gathered. His cheerful face was now lined with concern, and the others around him were equally somber. “How’s Y/N doing? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, we saw you and her heading under the deck before,” Yasopp chimed in, leaning against the railing, arms crossed. “What’s going on with her? I told you something was off tonight”.

Shanks sighed, stopping in his tracks. He could feel the weight of his crew’s eyes on him. His men were like family, and they cared about Y/N just as much as he did. Keeping things from them wasn’t really an option. Still, this wasn’t something he wanted to dive into.

“She’s... well, it’s about that boy she’s been seeing,” Shanks said reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck. “Broke things off. Hurt her pretty bad.” The crew’s reactions were immediate. Yasopp let out a low whistle, “That bastard,” Roux cursed under his breath.

They were all pissed, Y/N wasn’t just someone on the ship, she was like their little sister, and her pain was their pain. It had been a year now since she joined their crew. Since that moment, they all felt like the fun and laughter, the alcohol and the joy, had doubled – she worked some trick on them, making them feel as if they were all back in their late twenties. 

Roux clenched his fists. “We should teach him a lesson. No one messes with our crew, especially not Y/N.” Shanks held up a hand, his tone even but firm. “No need for that. It’s over. And she needs time, not more trouble,” explained, as Y/N’s heartbreak had become the crew’s problem now, too.

As the others turned to leave, Benn Beckman approached, leaning casually against the doorway, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes were sharp, more knowing than most.

"Shanks," Benn called softly, making sure no one else could overhear. 

“Oh you were just the one I was looking for, I need a cig,” Benn raised his eyebrow confused, as Shankes added also his matches in his request. 

“It’s for her,” he explained. Benn gave him what he needed, shaking his head with a soft smile, thinking about the first time Y/N confessed him she didn’t smoke, she was just endlessly smoking her last cigarette.

Shanks and Benn had been friends for so long that words weren’t always necessary—but when they were spoken, they were always heavy. He stopped and met Benn's gaze. "What are you going to do about it?"

Shanks knew exactly what Benn was asking. He wasn’t talking about getting Y/N this cigarette or offering her some comfort. He was asking about the truth Shanks had kept buried for so long. The truth about how he felt about her. 

Shanks' smile faltered for a moment, a rare crack in his usually carefree demeanor. He shifted his weight, feeling the familiar flutter in his chest whenever he thought about Y/N as something more than just a crewmate. He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his glass, his tone softer now. “Nothing she needs right now,” he replied, looking off into the distance as if that might provide some clarity. “She’s hurt, Benn. She doesn’t need more complications”. Benn’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press further. He understood Shanks better than anyone, even when the red-haired captain didn’t fully understand himself.

Shanks sighed, feeling the weight of Benn’s words but knowing there wasn’t an easy answer. “She’s hurting now,” he continued, “The only thing I care is to make her feel alright as soon as I can”.

“And what about you?” Benn asked, his voice a low murmur, almost swallowed by the sound of the waves against the ship. “When will you be alright?”

Shanks didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the closed cabin door where Y/N waited for him. “She’ll be alright,” he repeated, turing away to head back to Y/N with a bottle of rum in hand, the truth hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. Benn watched him go, the cigarette still burning between his fingers, his eyes knowing and weary. He knew Shanks could lie to the crew, and maybe even to Y/N. But lying to himself? That was another battle entirely.

She’ll be alright and it will be worth it, Shanks repeated himself, softly smiling. When he returned, Y/N looked up at him with those same tear-streaked eyes. And for a brief moment, as he sat down next to her and handed her the cig, he wished that for just once, he could tell her everything. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she was already broken. So instead, he smiled, taking a long swig from the bottle, and mentally vowed to stay by her side. Even if it meant keeping his feelings locked away, just a little while longer.

She lit the cigarette taking a long drag, Shanks watching her with a bit of amusement.

“Remember that I’m letting you smoke under the deck just because this is an emergency,” he tried to lighten the mood once again, while taking another sip. She nodded, puffing out the smoke, “so, when are the rest of the guys going to kick Jim’s ass?,” she casually asked. Shanks turned to her, “I heard what they were saying on the deck, they’re not exactly quiet you know,” she explained, “Remind me to say thanks to Roux for wanting to step up for me and defend my honor,” she laughed, while grabbing the bottle and pouring her some.

“You’re smiling a bit,” Shanks noted relieved. “Are you feeling a bit better?” Y/N nodded. 

“Knew that drinking would have helped you,” he joked.

“Maybe it’s the drink,” she repeated. “Or the cigarette,” she took another drag while Shanks drank a bit more. “Or the fact that whenever I am around you, I can help but laugh,” she added smiling once again, Shanks’ heart skipping a bit for what she had just said. 

“Thank you, I will never thank you enough for this,” she turned to face him, moving towards him, resting – with no warning – her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I kinda ruined the party’s mood tonight,” she continued, finding comfort once again in the cigarette. 

“Well, you can’t always be the life of the party, can you?,” Shanks joked, incapable of stopping himself to enjoy the closeness they were sharing. Before she could speak once again he signed her to be quiet, “I want that to be very clear: you haven’t ruined anything. You felt hurt, it happens. I hope you know that it’s not your fault”, she nodded.

“I truly mean it, Y/N. He was not worth your time or your energy. I think you have shed more tears for him than he deserved. I don’t want to see you cry again,” he said, caressing her puffy cheek with his thumb, “unless if it’s about Benn stealing you last drink again”, he tried to make her smile again. The feeling of her soft skin under his calloused fingers reminded him once again the truth he was trying to avoid: she was a fragile thing, he need to be careful with her.

“You will find a true man who will take care of you,” he added while he stood up to set some distance between them. 

“Can you hug me again before you go?”. Shanks froze, her words hanging in the air. He hadn’t planned on leaving just yet, but her request for another hug—it was the way she said it, the vulnerability in her voice—it almost unraveled him. Turning back to her, he hesitated only for a moment before sitting back down, opening his arm. She nestled into his chest, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“I ruined your shirt,” she said noticed the stain she caused with her cries.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, looking her in those big eyes, still a bit red for the emotional turmoil of the night. She nodded.

“Then it’s fine,” he answered nodding his head in disbelief, as if he could care about a damn shirt. 

“Was it worth it?”, she asked suddenly, her tone quiet yet meaningful. Shanks froze for a moment, taken aback. She had repeated his own words from earlier, the ones he had spoken to try and reassure her. Shanks felt his breath hitch slightly. He gently pulled away, giving her a bit of space, though he kept her hand close, his fingers barely brushing against hers, reluctant to lose contact. The look on her soft face was sending his mind into shambles, and suddenly, the air between them felt impossibly thick, each breath heavy with everything left unsaid. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words seemed to falter on the tip of her tongue. Shanks’ heart pounded in his chest, louder than anything else, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her—how her eyes still held that same vulnerability, but there was something else now. Something more. 

“You are always worth it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. She blinked up at him, her expression softening as she leaned in just a little closer. “I’m glad,” she whispered, her gaze flickering to his lips for the briefest of moments. It was enough for him to notice, to feel that pull again—the one that told him he was dangerously close to crossing a line. But it didn’t feel dangerous anymore. It felt right. Tell her. Don’t tell her, let her rest, you will grow over it. Tell her, it will be worth it.

“I—” Shanks swallowed hard, standing up while feeling his throat tighten. “I’ve wanted to say this for a while now, but I wasn’t sure if I should. You’re younger than me, and I know… I know I’m not what people would call a “good man”. But I—”

Before he could finish, she stood up as well, almost facing him. “Shanks,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t”. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it. He knew it: he shouldn’t have let his emotions get the best of him. He should have at least waited until all of this was months behind her. But then she leaned in, closing the distance between them, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was soft, but filled with a quiet kind of desperation. He didn’t move at first, too stunned by the feel of her against him, until something inside him snapped and he kissed her back, his hand sliding into her soft hair as he pulled her closer. It wasn’t a kiss of passion—it was something gentler, more intimate, the beginning of something that had been waiting for a long time to surface. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Shanks rested his forehead against hers, his heart still racing in his chest.

“I’ll show you,” the words urged to come out of his body, he needed to get this out of his chest. “I’ll show you how you what a real man does when he’s lucky enough to be with a woman like you. Tell me you’ll let me and I will do it”. Please let me.

Y/N smiled, her eyes bright with something that looked like hope, and she kissed him again, a soft peck on the lips, while her hand rested on the side of his face. Their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths mingling as they stood in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Y/N’s fingers lightly traced the side of his face, her touch gentle and reverent, like she was afraid to break the delicate spell between them. Her smile wavered slightly, not from doubt but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—the love she had kept hidden for so long, now finally set free.

"Shanks," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the small space between them. "I don't need you to show me anything I haven’t seen already". Shanks closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest. When he opened them again, he looked at her with all the certainty he had in the world. His thumb brushed across her cheek.

“I know this wasn’t the best timing” he whispered back, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I had to take it off my chest, Y/N”.

Her hand lingered against his skin, her heart thudding in her chest as she searched his face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none. There was only love, plain and simple. It was so clear now, as if it had always been there, waiting for them to recognize it. She caressed his scar, making him shiver due to her gentle touch. He wasn’t used to this. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with everything unspoken. And then, in a quiet voice that seemed to crack with vulnerability, Y/N whispered, “I don’t want you to think that I am doing this out of sadness. I’ve always thought this. You. Us – something more than the strong bond we shared before, but I felt so dumb and inappropriate, how was I supposed to—”

Shanks tilted her chin up gently, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in closer, their lips just a breath apart. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. He kissed her again, once again with a slow tenderness that made her melt into him, her body soft against his. His hand slid up to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping slightly as if he was holding on for dear life, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear. But she didn’t, she held him close, her hand still on his cheek, pulling him tighter against her. When they finally broke apart again, Shanks leaned back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made Y/N’s breath hitch in her throat. “I meant what I said,” he told her, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you. Not because you need it—but because I’ve waited so long before finding someone to love you like you should be loved,” he softly spoke, feeling finally lighter. The weight he was carrieng from six months until now was driving him mad but now, since they kissed, he felt as if he’d been on land for too long and he just saw the ocean again.

“I know we don’t have an easy life, but I told you, I will give you all the love I have in me. But I need you to know if you’re 100% sure about this,” he explained.

“I am,” she smiled. “I know I’ll never find someone who’ll beat my drinking skills,” she joked, her wide wide smile found again, “but I need someone who can keep up, or at least tries to,” concluded with a small laugh. Shanks laughed with her, the thing that made him happy the most is that he finally recognised her Y/N, the sadness seemed to have passed, just like a storm. 

“I will beat your ass tomorrow night, you know that”, he said, hugging her once more.

“I look forward to”.

[editfandom]

Shanks - One Piece, S01E08

[favorite-characters]

𝕆𝕟𝕖 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖

Peter Gadiot as ꜱʜᴀɴᴋꜱ (sh. Matt Owens, Steven Maeda / S01 / 2023)

[ask-the-shichibukai]

Shanks vs his Crew - The time he lost everything at strip poker

(Ao3 Link)

Spin-off of "The Awkward truths are still truths Corner" Pt. 1. Original draft:

Shanks (visibly frustrated and not nearly drunk enough): Why am I the only one here who lost everything but his pants while you only took off your hair tie, Beck? It shouldn't even count as a article of clothing in a game like this! So why can't I win?

Beckman (with a smug grin): Because I've practically raised you since you were sixteen, captain, so I know you and your many tells.

Shanks (pouting): But that should mean that I can win, too. And I won against Whitebeard last week! Fuck, I've beaten Sengoku the Buddha once!

Beckman (feeling another black strand turn gray on his head all at once): When the hell did you find the time to play Strip Poker with the Navy's Fleet Admiral, captain? And how did you - seeing Shanks's very very smug smirk, he suddenly got the feeling that ignorance was really a bliss sometimes - No, wait, don't tell me, I really don't want to know. Nor I want to have that kind of mental image if it's true that you won the game. Yours is more than enough for a lifetime.

Shanks (still laughing): Ok, ok, I won't tell you. I'm a gentleman, after all, I don't "kiss and tell" as they say.

Beckman: Stop giving me this kind of mental images and start losing with dignity - then seeing the ridiculous state the redhead was in - Not that you have much of that left now with those garish undergarments you put on.

Shanks (pouting again and crossing his arms in petulant way): I already told you that these boxers are stylish, not garish. They were sold as a limited edition.

Beckman: If you say so, boss. The crew and I still think you were scammed.

Shanks: Anyway, if you know me so well, what are my "tells", then? Because my poker face can't be THAT bad! In fact, I'll have you know that I could stop a world war with just my poker face if I felt like it.

Beckman: Your poker face is exceptional, captain, but only when you face the highest authorities of both the pirates and the navy. And it'd help you if you stopped sticking your tongue at me every time you get some card you think it'd help you win.

Shanks: That's pure slander and I should have you demoted for even thinking about it! And some shitty cards they were for all the good they did to me. - looking at his cards with a resignated look - So, are you saying that I'd have won if I hadn't done that?

Beckman (revealing his winning hand): No, you'd have still lost, captain.

(Shanks pressed his head against the table while the whole crew burst out laughing; Hongo went to collect his prize with a definitely smug pat on Yasopp's shoulder, who grunted something along the lines of "This is the last time I bet anything on the captain")

Beckman (standing up from his chair and re-tying his once-black hair): It was a pleasure to play with you, captain. I expect my monthly supply of cigarettes on my desk tomorrow, don't forget that.

Shanks (growling something about stupid drunk games and mutinous first mates): Those things will kill you soon or late, Beck.

Beckman: So will your recklessness or your alcohol addiction, but you don't see me complaining. Moreover, a win is still a win. Ah, and put something warm on your way to the cabins, captain, it's too cold out here to be standing on the deck in just your boxers.

Shanks: Fuck you, Beck.

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

You once discussed cross guild reaction to shuggy. Sorry u can’t find it! How do you think rn would the rest react? Buggy crew, mainly Alvida and galdino? In your fanfic he’s pushing it but it has different vibe because of the situation he’s in. So right now? I think shanks crew would be chill about it, maybe shocked? Shanks has vibe like he never told them about buggy? Thank you!

i think this post may be the one you’re thinking of, anon!

as to the rest of the crew—as you say, galdino’s encouragement in my fic is very context-specific. shanks is an emperor, and that’s terrifying, but more importantly he is the guy who decides whether buggy and galdino are getting off that boat alive, and he’s been acting very flirty with buggy. buggy reciprocating might save their lives… or at least keep shanks distracted until they reach their destination.

but when you’re looking at the possibility in the present day? shanks doesn’t have that same power over them. (he could, if he wanted, but he’s not a clear and present danger.) there aren’t any significant advantages to getting involved with shanks, and there are plenty of risks. i can’t see galdino being happy about shanks and buggy getting together unless buggy’s situation changes drastically for the worse. (which, knowing buggy, could happening very easily.)

my thoughts on the others you asked about are below the cut.

i’m not quite as confident about my grasp on alvida’s thoughts and motives… her alliance with buggy has always struck me as staying remarkably professional. she’s not impressed that buggy’s a former roger pirate, but she is impressed that so many strong impel down felons followed him, and that he’s got captain john’s map bracelet. thinking about it like that, i think she probably doesn’t care about his love life until/unless it impacts her well-being. so, once the marines become aware that these two emperors and ex-roger pirates are associating—though the marines no doubt think it’s for alliance-building reasons only. at which point i expect alvida would shrug and preemptively welcome the presumed change in leadership, same as last time someone much stronger than buggy barged into their lives.

cabaji and mohji… you know, they occupy an interesting space to me. i do believe they care about and for buggy, but they are also painfully aware that they’re in over their heads and have been for years. unlike alvida (who is literally untouchable) and galdino (who has made himself useful), the only thing keeping these two alive is buggy’s reputation. so they do need to be a bit pragmatic about things… but on the other hand, they were around for the bitter ranting years. they know how furious—how hurt—buggy was. so i think, like galdino, they are not a fan of this development… but it’s about equal parts concern for buggy’s heart and for their own lives.

as to shanks’ crew… i don’t think his connection to roger is a secret from them, so they may have heard a bit about buggy? but i don’t think from shanks directly; he doesn’t really talk about the past to anyone who wasn’t present for it. if his crew was around when he talked with rayleigh or whitebeard… though, overhearing them talk wouldn’t really convey what buggy meant to shanks. so yeah, i think it’s a bit of a surprise. but if the boss is happy—and that happens so rarely—then i think they’re happy for him.

(beckman may have some reservations for reasons similar to cabaji and mohji: he was there for the more vulnerable years after roguetown, and he’s not wild about shanks risking his heart on this clown again. but shanks is a grown man, he can make his own choices.)

[spoilt-melk]

One Piece

Straw Hat Pirates

Donquixote Pirates

Kuja

Roger Pirates

Straw Hat Grand Fleet

Thriller Bark Pirates

Worst Generation

Kid Pirates

Heart Pirates

Four Emperors

Big Mom Pirates

Seven Warlords

Red-Haired Pirates

Whitebeard Pirates

Marines

Other

[yanagitree]

Two Gods Among Mortals Information:

This is basically a One Piece AU where Shanks and Marco are gods. They are also good friends, but everyone thinks that the two are enemies.

The two have been good friends with each other since before the Void Century. Not many people remember the true gods that existed before the Celestial Dragons, but neither care. Also, the true gods are playing the long game. When Joy Boy comes back that is when they will strike.

These are what they are the Gods of.

Marco God of Adventure, Freedom, Knowledge, Protection, Rebirth, Healing, and Family.

Shanks God of War, Victory, Bravery Power, Intelligence Warfare, Strength, Chaos, and Order.

Edit: They also have God forms and in Marco's God form, he has wings that look like his wings when he uses his Devil Fruit. He can also turn into a full Phoenix and has no Devil Fruit.

[myaoctopus]

Update on my one piece ship series!!

[bubusunny]

In another universe 💔

[benevolentcannibal]

given beck's track record, he thinks he's funny.

[softonshanks]

Shanks x reader taking bath together! Something fluff ya know? (No need to be smut)

Hey Anon, thank you for this lovely request. I'm sorry if this took a bit long but I just fell in love with how this story could possibly take place, so I have added a few more details I hope you will enjoy. It's a bit longer that I expected, but I kinda like how it turned out. Thank you again, let me know if you like it in the comments and enjoy <3<3

A Soothing Surprise

Characters: Shanks x female reader Word count: 1922 words

The Red-Haired Pirates were anchored near a small, peaceful island, the kind where nothing much happened. Shanks had been walking a bit slower these days, grimacing now and then while pretending it was nothing. It wasn’t his first time dealing with an aching back, but this time felt different and no amount of rum, jokes, or teasing could ease the nagging pain. He had been feeling it for almost a week now. That dull, persistent ache in his back that seemed to remind him with every movement: you're not 20 anymore. His crew, ever the jokers, hadn't let him forget it either. They teased him relentlessly about "getting old," and while Shanks played along with his usual carefree smile, a part of him couldn't help but think about it. The once endless nights of drinking and partying were now followed by stiff mornings, and though he was still the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, there was no denying that time was catching up with him.

"You're getting old, Captain!" Yasopp had joked earlier that morning, throwing Shanks a knowing grin.

Shanks had laughed it off, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew they weren’t wrong. Sure, he was still powerful, still strong, but he wasn’t in his twenties anymore, and sometimes the creaking bones reminded him of that fact. Normally, the banter and the drinking would lift his spirits, but tonight, even with the party in full swing on the deck, Shanks felt a little distant, a little thoughtful.

Shanks had always been the one to go out of his way to do things for his crew, whether it was helping Lucky Roo gather supplies, buying cigarettes for Benn, or giving Yasopp new can of oil to clean his gun. But who was doing something for him?

Y/N decided it was time to change that.

The next morning, as the ship docked at the island, Y/N had her plan ready. She had spent the previous night carefully writing out clues and stashing them in various places she knew Shanks would eventually find throughout the day.

The first clue was tucked neatly inside his favorite mug, the one he used for his morning coffee. Shanks, groggy but in good spirits, lifted the mug to take a sip, only for a small piece of paper to fall into his lap.

“Huh?” he said to himself, blinking down at the note. He opened it up and read:

"A Captain’s day starts with more than just brew. Check under the barrel where you stashed the new."

His brow furrowed, but a slow grin spread across his face. “What’s this all about?”

Intrigued, Shanks followed the clue to the ship's supply closet, where he had hidden some rare bottles of rum the week before. Sure enough, another note was waiting for him.

"You're warm now, Captain, but not yet done. Find the red flag, and you’ll be closer to the fun."

He scratched his head, chuckling to himself. “What’s that girl even up to?”, asked himself, perfectly knowing that it was all her doing. After all, Benn would have never set up a vicious game like this, while Y/N was just like him in some aspects: funny, always ready for a giggle, an eternal child ready to play.

He set off, following the clues she had hidden around the island. Each note was just vague enough to make him think, but not so hard that it was frustrating.

"Your treasure awaits, but first you must find, A place where the wind sings and the sun shines."

This clue led him to a windmill at the top of a hill, another to a quiet beach where the waves lapped gently at the shore, and another to an old oak tree that must have been standing for centuries. It was fun—simple and thoughtful—and he couldn’t help but feel lighter with every step he took. Finally, as the sun began to dip low in the sky, he found the final clue tucked under a smooth stone at the edge of a peaceful garden. It led him to a small, cozy inn nestled on the outskirts of the village. When he opened the door to the room, he found Y/N sitting on the bed, her legs crossed and a playful smile on her lips.

“Well, it’s about time you got here,” she teased, crossing her arms. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

Shanks blinked, looking around the room and trying to figure out what to do with her, alone, on a bed. “What’s all this, Y/N? What do you want me to do?”.

Y/N stood and motioned toward a small door at the side of the room. “Go take a look in the bathroom, Captain.”

Curious, Shanks pushed the door open and immediately burst out laughing. The bathroom was filled with the scent of lavender, and the tub was filled to the brim with warm water, bubbles, and flower petals. It looked like something straight out of a fancy spa, the kind Shanks would love to visit, but would never admit it.

“You even put up candles,” he pointed out, incapable of stopping his laugh. He turned to Y/N, amusement dancing in his eyes. “This is a bit girly for me, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “Girly or not, it’ll help with your back”. Her Captain raised his eyebrow, not fully convinced. “Just get in the tub, Shanks," she shrugged as he smirked, peeling off his coat and shirt. "Alright, alright. But don’t blame me when you start swooning over my rugged pirate physique."

As he continued to undress, Y/N called out from the other room. "Leave your underwear on! We don’t need any... unexpected surprises." Shanks chuckled, unable to resist. "How do you know it’s a bad surprise?" He winked at her. "I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know." Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"This whole elaborate plan just to get my shirt off, huh?" he teased as he sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop him.

Y/N perched herself on a stool behind him, her fingers gently pressing into his shoulders. "Nope, just trying to take care of the captain. Warm water and lavender should help with the tension. But honestly, if this whole treasure hunt was too complex for you, you could have just said so."

"Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve been challenged by something as intricate as finding a hidden inn," he teased. "But I have to admit, it’s doing the trick”. The warm water immediately started to soothe the ache in his back. He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the tub, letting the lavender scent relax him even more. “Alright, how are you feeling so far?”, she asked hoping that her plan was working.

“Much better,” Shanks admitted, though whether it was the bath or her thoughtfulness, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Good,” she said as she began to gently massage his shoulders. “This’ll help release some tension. The warm water and lavender should take care of the rest.”

Shanks let out a low groan of satisfaction. “Why are you doing all of this?”

Y/N chuckled. “You do stuff for us all the time. A wise captain once said a crew is like a family, a one’s burden is everybody’s burden”.

“Sounds like a smart captain, do I know him?,” he jokingly asked, catching his quote. “Don’t think so”, she answered while her hands kept massaging his toned shoulders. “This captain is always happy and smiley, instead you’ve been grumpy for a while.”

“Grumpy?” Shanks asked with mock offense. “I’m never grumpy.”

She snorted. “Sure, Captain. You’ve been grumbling and wincing for days.”

As her hands worked on his shoulders, Shanks felt the tension slowly melt away, and before long, he was feeling better than he had in days. Still, Y/N’s touch had a different effect on him too—one that was harder to ignore.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you some privacy now,” Y/N said after a few minutes. “Just wanted to make sure you were settled in.”

She stood, ready to leave, but Shanks caught her hand. “Wait, can you hand me a towel first?”

Y/N nodded and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf. As she handed it to him, Shanks gave her a devilish grin and pulled the towel—and her—toward him with one swift tug.

Before Y/N could react, she lost her balance and tumbled forward, landing directly in the tub with Shanks.

Water splashed everywhere as Shanks burst out laughing, his chest heaving with mirth. Y/N, on the other hand, was mortified, her face flushed as she found herself lying against his bare chest.

“Shanks!” she gasped, trying to push herself up, but he only laughed harder.

“Hey, you’re the one who got me in this tub in the first place,” he teased. “Now you get to enjoy it too!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, her embarrassment fading as she realized how ridiculous the situation was. She wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. “This is not how I planned it to go.”

Shanks smirked. “Then maybe you should’ve planned better.”

After a beat, Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Well? You’ve already fallen in. Might as well stay.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m keeping my shorts on.”

She reached up to peel off her soaked top, revealing her bra underneath. Shanks let out a low whistle. “Well, if I knew this was how the night was going to end, I would’ve had back pain ages ago.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve seen me in a bikini on the ship a hundred times.”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, his voice teasing, “but it’s always a pleasant surprise to be remembered of what you are hiding under you shirt”. She rolled her eyes, settling into the tub. "You’re impossible," she repeated, though this time there was a fondness in her voice. They sat together in comfortable silence, playing with the bubbles and petals floating in the water. He couldn’t help but taking some flower petals in his hand and letting it gently fall in her hair, making her giggle, her eyes shyly watching the water. The heat of the bath and the soothing scent of lavender wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and for the first time in a while, Shanks felt completely at ease.

Eventually, the water began to cool, and they reluctantly decided it was time to get out. As Shanks stood up and reached for a towel, he let out a soft grunt.

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, her voice soft. Shanks shook his head, grinning. "On the contrary, I feel amazing. And now I can’t use my back pain as an excuse to make you do this again."

Y/N laughed, tossing him another towel.

"Guess I’ll just have to come up with another excuse," Shanks smirked, wrapping the towel around his waist.

As they stepped out of the bathroom, the tension that had been weighing Shanks down for days had finally lifted. He felt lighter, freer, and though he might not have been 20 anymore, he realized that moments like these—shared with the people who cared about him—made aging feel a little less daunting. And as Y/N flashed him one last smile before heading to her room, Shanks couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was still young enough for a few more surprises in life.

[editfandom]

Shanks - One Piece, S01E02

[dragonanon]

Okay, but please consider being a Zoan Cat user and accidentally getting “adopted” by a pirate crew after being mistaken for a regular ass cat. You honestly thought they knew you were a human at first, and by the time you realized they didn’t, it had been long enough that revealing yourself would’ve been awkward af, and you were then curious about how long it would take them to figure you out. So instead you stfu and be a relatively good lil’ ship cat.

You get free food, plenty of comfy places to nap in, and lots of scritches and attention from big men who’re surprisingly giddy to have a tiny cat on board. Why on Earth would you want to ruin that??

You get away with it for months. And the ONLY reason you get caught is because someone does something so unbelievably dumb that you absentmindedly say out loud “Damn, we’re really reaching new levels of stupid here.” You could hear a mouse fart in stunned silence that followed as you realize your inside thought did NOT stay inside, and now you want nothing more than to just disappear into the floor.

Shockingly enough, you’re forgiven and continue on as the ship cat; except now you can properly converse and interact with everyone. HOWEVER you’re still subjected to being picked up and held out towards everyone like Simba whenever you’re fully transformed into a cat lmfao

[sh4nksslvt]

One Month With You

In the final month of your life, you cherishes fleeting moments with your crew, hiding a terminal illness until only memories—and a letter—remain.

red hair pirates x reader | whitebeard pirates x reader | strawhats x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, ooc, major character death, grief, terminal illness a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward word count: 2.6k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

RED HAIR PIRATES

The sea was calm that morning, the kind of quiet that made even the waves seem to hold their breath. The deck of the Red Force was alive with chatter and light laughter, but you stood by the railing, letting the wind sweep through your hair. Your fingers curled around the wood, your gaze far off—not at the horizon, but somewhere past it.

One month. That’s what Hongo told you when he unknowingly confirmed your own suspicions. You’d been hiding the worsening symptoms for months—fatigue that sank deep into your bones, the relentless pain in your chest, the occasional blood you’d spit out into the sea, unnoticed.

You knew he’d figure it out eventually. He was too good not to.

But you hadn’t expected him to burst into your quarters the night before, shaking with barely restrained panic.

“What the hell is this?!” Hongo had yelled, thrusting a tattered medical report into your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something?!”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Because I didn’t want to be watched like a ghost who hasn’t died yet.”

Silence. Deafening.

“...You have a month, Y/N, maybe less. You’re—” His voice cracked. “You’re dying, and you're acting like it's nothing?”

“I have a month, Hongo,” you had said quietly. “Please… just let me have it. Don’t tell the others. Let me spend it with them. Please.”

He didn't answer for a long time. When he finally did, it was with a whisper: “You’re a fucking idiot.” But he pulled you into a hug and didn’t let go until your shoulders stopped shaking.

From that day, you lived more fiercely than ever. You laughed at Shanks’ dumb jokes and drank with him until the world blurred. You challenged Benn to silent stargazing contests, betting on how many shooting stars you’d catch. You dragged Limejuice to island carnivals and flirted shamelessly until his face burned red. You played cards with Hongo, even when your hands trembled too much to hold them.

They all noticed. The Red-Haired Pirates weren’t stupid.

“You’re real clingy lately,” Limejuice teased one night, bumping your shoulder with his. “You sure you’re not sick or something?”

You smiled, heart twisting. “Would you be mad if I said I might be?”

He laughed, oblivious. “Nah. I’d carry you myself if you keeled over.”

You didn’t say anything. Just leaned into his warmth.

Shanks was the hardest. He noticed too much. Noticed how often you disappeared below deck when the coughing fits hit, how your eyes stayed on the ocean longer than they should have.

“You thinking of leaving us?” he asked once, half-joking.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “No,” you lied.

Benn just watched. Always watched. He didn’t say much, but you could feel his eyes lingering on you, searching. You gave him your brightest smiles.

The day you left, the crew didn’t know.

You made breakfast with Chef-level effort, joking with the kitchen staff, slipping kisses to Limejuice's cheek and hugging Shanks tighter than ever. You sat with Benn for hours on the deck, your head on his shoulder, watching the sun creep across the sky.

“I think you’re my favorite,” you whispered, teasing.

He snorted. “Don’t let Shanks hear that.”

He didn’t know that was the last time he’d feel your heartbeat against his side.

That night, you slipped away. A letter for each of them tucked under your pillow. A note for Hongo too:

"Thank you—for letting me pretend I wasn’t dying. I love you all too much to say goodbye."

Morning broke in chaos.

“Where the hell is Y/N?!” Limejuice shouted, tearing through the ship.

“They’re not in the galley, or the crow’s nest!” Benn called out, panic rising in his usually calm voice.

Shanks was quiet, unusually still, staring at the empty hammock where your scent still lingered.

The notes were found soon after. One by one, hands shaking as they read your last words.

You didn’t say goodbye, but each letter bled with love.

“To Shanks — Thank you for making me feel like I belonged in the stars.”

“To Benn — You saw through me. Thank you for not saying anything.”

“To Limejuice — Thank you for reminding me how fun life could be.”

“To Hongo — I’m sorry I made you carry this alone. Thank you for letting me be selfish.”

They thought you ran. Were taken. Benn demanded a search party. Shanks was pale, silent, gripping your letter so tight his knuckles bled. Limejuice punched a wall. Hongo said nothing—for two days.

And then, he snapped.

He threw your medical file onto the table during a heated meeting, eyes wild. “They didn’t leave!....They died. And...I let them.”

The room fell to a breathless silence.

“You knew?” Benn whispered.

“They had a month. They begged me to let them spend it with us, like nothing was wrong. And I let them lie.”

Shanks stumbled back, as if struck. “No. No, they were… they were fine.”

“They were dying, Shanks! They couldn’t breathe without pain, they were—” Hongo’s voice cracked. “They spent their last strength loving us.”

No one spoke.

Limejuice fell to his knees. “We didn’t even say goodbye.”

Later that night, Shanks sat by the railing where you always stood.

“I hope you’re watching the stars from up close now, Y/N,” he murmured, tears streaking his face. “Because we’ll never stop looking for you in them.”

WHITEBEARD PIRATES

You’d always imagined dying quietly, maybe on an empty shore, wrapped in salt and wind. But fate had other plans. Your end would come not with isolation—but surrounded by laughter, drink, and the stubborn, unbearable warmth of the Whitebeard Pirates.

The diagnosis came on a cold, cloudy day—so ordinary it felt like a betrayal.

You'd passed out during training. Woke up with Marco’s worried face looming over you. He’d examined you in complete silence. But his shaking hands and tight jaw told you everything.

“It’s not good, is it?” you asked, voice barely a whisper.

“No,” Marco had said, the word cracking as it left him. “It’s... terminal. A rare degeneration of the lungs and heart. I don’t—there’s nothing I can do.”

You didn’t cry. Instead, you laughed. “So, what—you’re saying I won’t outlive my goldfish?”

He didn't laugh. He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You have a month. Maybe.”

You made him promise to keep it secret.

Just him and Whitebeard.

When Oyaji found out, he sat beside your bed and gripped your hand with those massive, shaking fingers. “You are my child,” he rumbled. “And if this is your last voyage… then let it be the greatest of your life.”

You had never cried before. But you cried then.

From that day, you threw yourself into every moment.

Ace was all fire and impulse, but when he was around you, something softer flickered beneath the surface. He took to dragging you along for sparring matches, even when you claimed your muscles ached.

“I need a challenge,” he’d smirk, sweat glistening down his neck.

“You just want to show off,” you’d tease, raising your fists anyway.

He was always careful not to hit you too hard. Not that you said anything—but he seemed to know. When you tripped one day, coughing blood into your sleeve when he wasn’t looking, he’d jogged over, helping you up without a word. His hand lingered on your arm just a second too long.

That night, you sat beside him, both of you perched on the edge of the ship with your legs dangling into the air.

“You’re weird lately,” he mumbled, eyes on the moon.

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

He blinked at you. “To be with us?”

“To be with you,” you said, gently. And he froze, eyes wide, like he didn’t know what to do with that.

“…You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” he whispered.

You smiled, because you already had.

Izo became your confidant without even knowing it. With every eyeliner flick and matching kimono, you gave yourself permission to feel alive. They would hum as they painted your face, hands warm against your cheeks.

“You’re glowing,” they said once, adjusting the red ribbon they tied in your hair.

“Death becomes me, huh?” you joked, and they slapped your arm, scandalized.

“You joke about dying too much.”

You didn’t mean to, but your voice cracked. “It’s easier than pretending I’m not scared.”

Their fingers paused, lips parting. “…Are you scared?”

You looked at them in the mirror, the shimmer of gold powder across your eyelids catching the light. “Yeah,” you said. “But not when I’m with you.”

They smiled then, a bit sad, and leaned in to kiss your temple. “Then let’s live like hell until we drop, dear.”

Thatch was joy personified. It was impossible to be sad around him for long, and that’s what made it hurt worse.

He caught you sneaking dessert at 2 a.m. once and acted like you’d committed a crime.

“Oh-ho! So this is where my pudding went!”

“Your pudding? I thought it had my name on it.”

“I’ll accept bribes in the form of kisses or cleaning dishes.”

You kissed his cheek, and he nearly dropped the bowl.

Every stolen moment in the kitchen became a memory—dancing while covered in flour, whipped cream fights, drunken baking experiments that ended in fire. You’d laughed so hard your sides hurt, even as your lungs begged you to stop.

“You’re making memories,” he said one night, tousling your hair. “That’s what this is. You’ve been clingy lately. Like you’re trying to make every second count.”

You froze, the spoon halfway to your mouth. “…Would you hate me if I was?”

He blinked. “Nah. I’d probably try to hold on tighter.”

You didn’t tell him then. Just leaned into his side and let him talk about his dream of opening a cake café after he retires.

You knew you’d never see it.

Marco was the one who saw the cracks, and it destroyed him. You kept him close because you trusted him most—and that made it hurt more.

You caught him once crying at your door. He didn’t think you were awake.

You opened it, silently wrapped your arms around him, and whispered, “I’m still here.”

“You shouldn’t be this calm,” he rasped into your shoulder.

“I’m terrified,” you admitted. “But I’d rather spend what time I have being loved than dying slowly in a bed.”

He pulled back, staring at you with reddened eyes. “You could have told them.”

“They’d look at me like I was already dead.”

He said nothing, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “Promise me… promise you’ll wait. Let me leave on my own terms.”

“…Okay,” he whispered. “But I’ll hate you for it.”

You kissed his forehead. “I hope you do.”

You left them on a quiet morning.

Then you slipped away, leaving only a bundle of letters on Marco’s desk.

Your final message was simple:

“Don’t let them hate me for this. Please. Just let them think I ran.”

The ship erupted into panic by nightfall.

Ace punched through a wall. “They’re gone?! What do you mean GONE?”

Izo ran through the corridors, calling your name until their voice broke.

Thatch turned the kitchen inside out like he expected you to be hiding in the cupboards, laughing.

Marco couldn’t speak.

He stood at the rail, gripping the wood so hard it splintered beneath his fingers.

Whitebeard stood behind him, silent, his massive shadow cast across the deck like a shroud.

“Do I tell them?” Marco rasped.

“No,” Whitebeard rumbled. “Not yet. Let them rage. Let them mourn in their own way.”

“But—”

“They wouldn’t understand it now,” he said. “Wait.”

A week passed. Then two.

No sign of you.

Your room remained untouched. Your absence echoed louder than any cannon fire.

They scoured islands. Questioned strangers. Considered kidnappers, Marines, even betrayal.

Ace refused to accept it. “They wouldn’t leave us! Not without a word. Not without—something.”

He went to Marco, desperate. “You know something. Tell me.”

Marco finally broke.

He gave Ace your letter.

Ace read it once. Then again and again. Then crumpled to the ground, screaming into his fists.

“They died?! All this time—they were dying?!”

Marco stood frozen, guilt crawling like acid beneath his skin.

“They didn’t want you to mourn them before they were gone,” he whispered. “They wanted to be loved, not pitied.”

Ace couldn’t answer. He just sobbed, curled around your crumpled letter like it could still warm him.

That night, Whitebeard gathered his sons and daughters.

He read your letters aloud. One by one. Each one aching with truth, memory, and love.

“To Ace — You made me feel alive, even when I was already halfway gone.” “To Izo — Thank you for making me beautiful when I felt invisible.” “To Thatch — You made every day sweeter, even the ones I didn’t think I’d survive.” “To Marco — Thank you for holding my secret when it crushed you. I love you most for that.” “To Oyaji — You gave me a family when I had nothing left. Thank you… for letting me die a Whitebeard Pirate.”

By the end, the deck was silent.

No sobs. Just breathless grief.

They didn’t throw a funeral.

They held a feast.

Not because they weren’t mourning—but because they knew you’d hate to see them broken.

They told stories. Passed your favorite drink around. Laughed, cried, and danced with ghosts.

And when the fire died down, Ace stared at the embers and whispered, “I hope you found peace, flame-heart.”

STRAWHAT PIRATES

You didn’t plan on dying at sea, but the Grand Line has a way of making plans for you. The first signs were subtle: a lingering fatigue you chalked up to busy days, aches you blamed on training, the dull pain in your side that you laughed off when Chopper asked if you were okay.

You knew before he did. Deep down, your body had been whispering the truth long before the words made it onto paper.

It wasn’t until you collapsed in the hallway between the kitchen and the infirmary that Chopper realized something was seriously wrong. When you woke up, it was to the sterile smell of the medical bay and his wide, terrified eyes.

“I ran every test,” he said, voice trembling. “And then I ran them again. It’s… it’s bad. Really bad.”

You nodded. Your throat was too dry to answer.

“I—I can’t fix it. Not with what we have on board. Maybe if we got to a major medical port, but even then, I don’t know if—”

You reached out, resting a hand on his tiny shoulder. “How long?”

He hesitated, ears flattening. “A month. Maybe.”

You didn’t cry. Not then. Not even when he begged to tell the others.

“No. Please. Let me have this. Just a month, Chopper.”

“They’ll never forgive me.”

“They will,” you said. “If they knew now, it’d ruin everything. I don’t want pity. I want memories.”

So you began to live. Fully, recklessly, as if the pain eating away at you was just a shadow at your back.

You started with Sanji. He was the easiest to be around, the one whose affection was loud and constant. Every meal became a moment: you insisted on helping in the kitchen, even when he protested. You chopped vegetables until your hands hurt, stirred sauces while leaning against him, snuck little bites when he wasn’t looking.

“You’re here a lot lately,” he said one afternoon, handing you a bowl of soup.

“I like watching you work,” you replied.

He grinned. “You trying to steal my heart, love?”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Maybe.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then, more softly, “You look at me like you’re memorizing my face.”

You didn’t answer. Just smiled.

Zoro came next. You sparred with him almost every day now, ignoring the way your lungs burned, the way your legs shook. He didn’t say anything the first time you collapsed mid-match, just silently carried you to the infirmary.

“You’re pushing too hard,” he said.

“I need to,” you whispered.

“Why?”

You looked at him, really looked. “Because I don’t want to forget what it feels like to fight beside you.”

He frowned. “You’re acting like you’re running out of time.”

You forced a smile. “Aren’t we all?”

That night, he found you on the deck, staring at the stars.

He sat beside you, arms crossed. “You’re not saying something. I don’t like it.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I’d carry you, if you asked.”

Your heart ached. “I know.”

Luffy was harder.

He didn’t notice at first. You were careful around him—too careful. You laughed with him during meals, ran across islands with him, challenged him to stupid games on the deck. But he began to notice the way you lingered during hugs. The way you stared at him too long. The way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes.

One evening, you lay beside him on the figurehead, watching the horizon.

He turned his head toward you. “Are you gonna leave?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You look like you’re saying goodbye.”

You looked away. “I’m not. Not yet.”

He was quiet for a while. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and didn’t let go until you both fell asleep.

ou made time for everyone else too.

With Nami, you spent lazy afternoons in the library, pretending to study charts. She taught you how to draw maps. You traced the oceans of the world with your fingers and imagined places you’d never see.

“You’re getting good at this,” she said.

“I want to leave something behind,” you murmured.

She didn’t understand then. But she would.

Usopp was a light in the dark. You asked for bedtime stories, exaggerated tales of heroism and romance. He performed them with full sound effects, arms flailing, voice booming.

“You always laugh now,” he noted one night.

“It’s easy, when I’m with you.”

He blushed, scratching the back of his head. “You’re acting like I’m the best part of your day.”

You smiled. “You are.”

Robin gave you quiet comfort. She didn’t ask questions. She simply read to you, let you rest your head in her lap, brushed your hair back from your face.

“You’re calm,” you told her.

“You’re storming,” she replied.

You didn’t deny it.

Franky built you a swing on the back of the Sunny, facing the sea. You spent hours there, feet brushing over the waves, eyes on the endless blue.

“Super chill, right?” he said, adjusting the ropes.

You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

He caught your hand before he left. “You’re not okay.”

You looked up at him. “No.”

“Okay,” he said, voice tight. “You don’t have to be.”

Brook played lullabies for you. Sweet, simple things. You danced with him once, slow and clumsy.

“If I still had a heart,” he said softly, “I think it would ache.”

You rested your head against his chest. “Mine already does.”

Chopper was breaking. Every day, he looked at you like you were already fading. You caught him crying in the storage room once, holding one of your jackets.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered.

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, hugging him.

“I hate lying.”

“I know.”

You waited until they docked at a small island for supplies.

You left at dawn.

Left behind the stargazer chair. The flowered book. The slingshot. The meals. The love.

Left behind a stack of letters in Chopper’s room.

When the crew realized you were gone, Luffy panicked first.

“They wouldn’t leave! They’d never leave!”

Zoro was already on the dock, scanning the shoreline. Sanji lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.

They searched the island. They waited at the ship. They called for you until their voices cracked.

You didn’t come back.

That night, Chopper gathered them in the infirmary.

“I didn’t want to break the promise,” he said, voice trembling. “But… they’re gone. They were dying.”

No one moved.

“…What?”

“They only had a month. They asked me to let them live… without pity.”

Nami burst into tears. "They should’ve told us,”

Zoro punched the wall.

Luffy stood in stunned silence, until he screamed your name into the ocean wind.

They read your letters together. All huddled in the infirmary, hearts shattered.

“To Sanji — You made me feel wanted, even when I felt like a ghost.” “To Zoro — You were my anchor. I always knew where I stood when I was beside you.” “To Luffy — Thank you for being the sun. I needed the light more than you’ll ever know.” “To the Crew — You made me part of a family. You made me more than a dying story.”

They held a quiet vigil on the deck.

Brook played your song one last time. Robin scattered petals into the sea. Chopper lit a lantern and let it drift across the water.

They stayed on that island for days.

Then, they sailed forward—quieter, heavier—but with your memory in their hearts.

You were their nakama.

You were their heart.

You always would be.

[chinelacanta]

i like to think that ever since they met it was mutually ON SIGHT bullying <3

they’re both losers (said with love)

[reineydraws]

benn is actually praying for himself bc he knows that this is somehow going to turn into his problem 😔🙏