#all of them yasopp

[kacievvbbbb]

Mihawk and the Red Haired Pirates

-Look I don't know what to tell you, Mihawk's epithet is literally Hawkeyes meaning he is world-renowned for his eyesight meaning that he'd probably make a good sharpshooter. And maybe Yasopp decides to test this theory with a little friendly competition. And after giving Mihawk a quick intro into how guns work, maybe Yasopp had to pull out every trick there is in the book to narrowly avoid losing to said Hawkeyes, who as it turns out is indeed very good at hitting targets and who had literally just learned how to cock a gun not even 30 minutes ago. But who's to say what actually happened, the day of November 25th at 2:35pm? Certainly not Yasopp, the record clearly shows he is undefeated.

-Once a year Ben and Mihawk go on a little trip just the two of them. They act like it's just so they can shit-talk Shanks but actually, they just go fishing somewhere in the middle of the ocean and drink horribly overpriced and fancy alcohol. Look Benn loves his crew, and would die for them but also if he doesn't get at least a week to himself once every year he'd kill them all himself. He deserves nice things and a little peace and fucking quiet and not being constantly inundated with the whims of a man child and Mihawk's the closest he's ever gonna get to a friend with taste, and he travels alone with a bunch of fancy wine. Sue the man. Mihawk who would rather nap is fine to let someone else sail his overgrown raft against the annoyingly ever-changing grandline for a week or two.

-Wouldn't it be cute if Mihawk learned a lot of his fancier cooking techniques from Roux? Like he knew how to cook to survive but watching Roux is how he learned to like properly dice vegetables and that eating fish prepared the same way three times a day is not infact a life he would like to lead. This was of course less cute to Lucky Roux who in the beginning had no clue what was happening and only felt the weight of Mihawk's otherworldly stare on the back of his neck as he handled knives. (he defiantly for at least a little bit, thought Mihawk had a knife fetish. which, he's not entirely wrong)

-To Building Snake (who I just learned is the RHP's navigator) Mihawk might as well be a modern-day miracle. In his eyes, Mihawk's sailing is proof that god exists, because only divine intervention can explain how this man ever gets anywhere never mind on time or early even. Building Snake is pretty sure he owns neither a map nor a log pose and he has never actually seen the sails of Mihawk's pretend ship unfurled or in use. Actually, he has never seen Mihawk do anything but sit menacingly on the throne in the middle of the boat, which why? If you think about it for even a second longer that 2 minutes how Mihawk "sails" anywhere breaks every law of physics and somehow even the concept of geography. Building Snake would like to dissect him and study him under a microscope but knows the boss would disapprove.

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp !! How come Oda lets you have so many role models and parental figures !!!

[immabitqueer]

If you guys won't hate on the parents of One Piece, I will. Where you are weak l am strong. And I don't care if they're beloved or have reasons either. I dont even care if their kids forgive them canonically. Baby, I can hate on One Piece parents you haven't even thought of as valid parental figures.

~OP is only just past Enies Lobby, ABSOLUTELY NO SPOILERS~

[aimbutmiss]

I know in my heart Usopp got his storytelling skills from Banchina! She always told him the liveliest, most entertaining stories of far-off lands full of adventures and amazing people and plants and animals. Stories about Yasopp and what a great pirate he was, so that if when he came back Usopp wouldn't have any ill will towards him. Banchina listened so intently to all the tall tales Usopp told her and the best memories Usopp has of her was when they made up stories together.

Now every time Usopp brings one of his fantastical anecdotes to life, it's almost like Banchina's right there with him.

This hurts in the best way 😭😭 Usopp making his mom's spirit live on with his stories is a beautiful idea. But all I can think about is him reuniting with his dad and all Yasopp can see when he looks at his son is Banchina. His looks AND the way he acts is all his mother, which isn't surprising considering Yasopp wasn't there at all... Seeing Usopp again is just facing his failures head on and maybe that's just what he needs. To face his wrongdoings and mistakes instead of hiding from them.

[hauntingblue]

The combo of York and the seraphim is too cute... they are getting their asses handed to them by cutie pies

[crystalcatgamer]

BENN WITH HIS HEAD IN HIS HANDS TAKING ME OUT. LIMEJUICE AND HIS LONG ASS HAIR. YASSOP ON ALL FOURS ON THE GROUND. LUCKY LAMENTING AT THE SKY. SHANKS AND- Wait that's literally his only arm which makes him perfect for that goddamn pose I'M CRYING

Luffy... How could you... The Red-Hair Pirates were literally your very first fan club... You were their little guy and still are...

kids these days dont appreciate anything...

[inseobts]

Hello there, dear! I hope you're having a good day!

I absolutely love your "Accidental PDA" scenarios. Could I please request a part 2? Maybe with Shanks, Mihawk, and Crocodile?

I love those silly men~♡

(Accidental) PDA

characters: shanks, usopp, mihawk, crocodile, sabo

a/n: I tried to make them longer and added usopp and sabo, hope you don’t mind

words count: around 0.5k - 0.8k each

(zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Shanks:

The tavern is loud, filled with the usual rowdiness of the Red-Haired Pirates, and you’re just trying to enjoy your drink in peace. Shanks, however, has other plans.

Without thinking, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you in closer as he laughs at something Benn said. It’s casual, effortless, like it’s second nature to him. You stiffen for a second, heat creeping up your neck, but Shanks doesn’t even seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.

The crew does, though.

Lucky Roo is grinning into his plate, Yasopp gives a low whistle, and someone in the back yells, “Oi, Captain, didn’t know you were the handsy type!”

The teasing sets off a chain reaction. More whistles, some exaggerated winks, and a few dramatic “Get a room!” comments. Shanks finally glances around, noticing the way everyone is looking at you, at him, at the way his arm is still draped over you like you belong there.

And then, the bastard smirks.

“Jealous?” he asks, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, feel like sinking into the floor. You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, only chuckles as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“You could let go…” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Could,” he agrees, but his arm stays right where it is, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your shoulder “But I like this better.”

The crew erupts into laughter again, and you just know they’re never letting this go.

You groan, sinking deeper into Shanks’ side as the crew erupts into even more laughter and teasing. His arm is still draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your sleeve like he has all the time in the world.

“Captain, you should at least buy ’em dinner first!” someone calls out, setting off another round of whistles.

Shanks just grins “Dinner? Please, I treat ’em well every day.”

You swat at his chest, finally pushing him off you, only for him to dramatically clutch his heart like you just mortally wounded him “Ow, sweetheart, that hurt.”

“Not as much as this embarrassment,” you mutter, crossing your arms “Do you have to be like this?”

He hums, tilting his head as if considering “Hmm… yeah, I think I do.”

The crew howls at that, and Yasopp slaps the table “Damn, you’re really done for, huh, Captain?”

Shanks just leans in again, closer this time, and you can feel his warmth even though he’s not touching you anymore. His voice drops, low and teasing “I mean… you don’t seem to mind that much.”

You open your mouth to protest but what can you even say? That your face isn’t burning? That your heart isn’t racing just a little? Because that would be a lie, and everyone here would see straight through it.

So instead, you huff and grab your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

Unfortunately, Shanks notices.

He chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you, utterly amused “Oh yeah,” he murmurs “You’re definitely cute when you’re flustered.”

The entire crew loses it.

── .✦ Usopp:

The two of you sit together on the deck of the Sunny, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The ship rocks gently on the waves as you both watch Luffy, Chopper, and Franky attempt to launch themselves out of a makeshift slingshot (which is absolutely going to end in disaster).

Usopp is so focused on their antics that, without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand.

Not in a grand romantic way. Not with any intention at all. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your fingers are warm, your grip instinctively curling around his. And for a few blissful minutes, he doesn’t even notice what he’s done.

Then, of course, someone has to ruin it.

Zoro snorts from where he lounges with his sword resting against his shoulder “Oi, Usopp, holding hands now? When’s the wedding?”

Usopp nearly throws your hand away like it’s on fire. His face goes red so fast it could put a cherry to shame.

He waves his hands frantically “W-WHAT?! I—HOLDING HANDS? WHO? ME? NO WAY!”

Zoro looks unimpressed “You literally just were.”

Luffy grins wide “Ohhh! Are you guys dating? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Usopp flails, looking at you for help, only to find you laughing.

You’re not embarrassed. You’re not panicking. You’re just sitting there, watching him combust, an amused glint in your eyes.

Oh, this is bad.

Sanji smirks as he lights a cigarette “My, my, Usopp. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Usopp’s hands are everywhere, gesturing wildly as he tries to dig himself out of this nightmare “I—I wasn’t—I mean, I was, but I wasn’t—”

Robin chuckles behind her book “Don’t worry. It was cute.”

Usopp makes a strangled noise that is somewhere between a squawk and a plea to be thrown into the ocean. His heart is about to explode. He can’t even look at you now.

And then you—still so infuriatingly calm—just shrug and say “Well, I don’t mind.”

Usopp forgets how to breathe.

Chopper gasps “So you are dating?!”

Usopp immediately short-circuits “THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT—WAIT, WHAT DID YOU MEAN?!”

You just laugh again, standing up and stretching like this is the most casual thing in the world “I’ll let you figure that out.”

Then you walk away, leaving a completely fried Usopp sitting there, hands in his hair, while the rest of the crew loses their minds.

Luffy grins “I think you just got confessed to.”

Usopp screams.

He stares after you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke, looking far too entertained “Well? You gonna sit there like an idiot or go after them?”

Usopp smacks his hands against his face “G-go after them? WHAT FOR?!”

Luffy tilts his head “Because they just confessed?”

“THEY DID NOT CONFESS!” Usopp shrieks, pointing wildly in the direction you disappeared. “THAT WAS VAGUE! THAT COULD MEAN ANYTHING!”

Franky crosses his arms “Could mean they like you.”

Chopper nods “Or that they wouldn’t mind if you liked them.”

Robin smiles behind her book “Or that they’re waiting for you to make the next move.”

Usopp is malfunctioning. His brain is overheating. This is worse than any battle, worse than any enemy encounter—this is romantic ambiguity, and it is killing him.

Zoro sighs, clearly losing patience “Look, either go ask them what they meant or sit here and keep yelling about it. Either way, shut up.”

Usopp grabs his head “This is too much. This is a nightmare. I need—I need time to process—”

Nami rolls her eyes “If you take too long, they might think you don’t care.”

Usopp bolts upright.

He cares. Oh, he cares. The thought of you thinking otherwise makes his stomach twist into knots.

He groans dramatically “UGH—FINE! I’LL GO!”

The crew cheers. He glares at them “If I die of embarrassment, I’m haunting you all.”

Luffy beams “Can ghosts hold hands?”

Usopp sprints before he can get sucked into another round of teasing.

── .✦ Mihawk:

The castle is quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery against fine china. You, Mihawk, and Perona are seated at the grand dining table, enjoying, or rather, trying to enjoy, dinner.

Everything is peaceful until your fork slips, clattering against your plate before tumbling off the table’s edge. Without thinking, Mihawk moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches the utensil mid-air, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it back. It’s nothing, barely even a touch, but the air shifts immediately.

Perona, halfway through taking a bite, freezes.

Her wide eyes flick between you and Mihawk, and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face “Oh?” she sings, resting her chin in her hands “That was… interesting.”

You blink, confused “What?”

She grins “Didn’t know Hawky was the touchy type.”

Mihawk sighs, unimpressed “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Perona isn’t letting this go “Ohhh, don’t try to act all cool—I saw that.” She points her fork at him accusingly “You totally just pulled a ‘casually affectionate, but I won’t admit it’ move.”

You scoff, shaking your head “It was just a fork—”

“It was not just a fork!” Perona interrupts dramatically “He caught it! He touched your hand! He lingered!”

Mihawk pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment “This is absurd.”

Perona leans in with a wicked grin “Admit it. You like them.”

Mihawk finally meets your gaze, and for just a second, so brief you might have imagined it, you see something flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. Something dangerous.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks away “You’re being insufferable” he mutters to Perona, taking a slow sip of his wine.

She cackles, delighted “And you’re avoiding the question!”

You, caught between amusement and second-hand embarrassment, shake your head “Alright, that’s enough. Can we just eat in peace?”

Mihawk exhales through his nose, giving you the faintest nod. But as you pick up your fork again, you feel his gaze lingering just a second too long.

And this time, you are the one avoiding eye contact.

Perona is still grinning, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watches you both like a cat who just found the perfect toy to play with “You’re blushingggg” she sing-songs.

You nearly choke on your drink “I am not.”

She gasps dramatically “Oh my God, you so are! This is the best day of my life.”

Mihawk sighs, setting his glass down with an audible clink “Perona.”

Something about the way he says her name, low, warning, should be enough to shut her up. Should be. But Perona, being Perona, just grins wider “What?” she asks innocently, resting her chin in her hands “I’m just making an observation. It’s not my fault that you—”

Mihawk lifts a hand, and for a moment, you think he’s about to cut her off with a sharp retort. Instead, his fingers brush against the base of his wine glass, moving it an inch to the side. A subtle shift. A deliberate one.

And then you realise his gaze hasn’t left you since this conversation started.

Your breath catches. It’s not dramatic, not obvious, but it’s enough.

Enough for Perona’s eyes to widen.

“Oh.” She leans back, eyebrows raising “Wait. Hold on. Wait.”

Mihawk finally looks at her, his usual unreadable expression in place “What?”

Perona points between you both “This is real, isn’t it?”

You stiffen “What is real?”

She gasps again, clutching her chest like she just uncovered the biggest secret of the century “You! Him! This! Oh my God, I was just teasing, but you’re actually—”

Mihawk exhales sharply, reaching for his wine again “Perona.”

“What! You can’t expect me not to react!” She gestures wildly “I live in this creepy castle with you, and nothing fun ever happens! Of course I’m going to enjoy this!”

You groan, rubbing your temples “Perona, I swear—”

But she’s already giggling, positively thrilled “Oh, this is so cute. Mihawk, are you going to deny it? Hm?” She bats her lashes dramatically “Gonna tell me I’m imagining things? That you don’t look at them like that?”

Mihawk doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he sets his glass down, levels Perona with a stare so sharp it could probably cut through steel, and says, voice smooth as ever “Mind your business.”

Perona lets out a scream of pure, unfiltered excitement.

── .✦ Crocodile:

The casino is buzzing, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the murmur of high-stakes deals. You walk beside Crocodile as he moves through the crowd, his presence alone enough to part people like the Red Sea.

It’s nothing new, he’s intimidating without trying, and people know better than to get in his way. But as the two of you step toward a private lounge, the crowd thickens, bodies pressing in too close. Instinct takes over.

A firm hand lands on your lower back.

It’s subtle, barely even a touch, but the warmth of it sends a jolt through your spine. Crocodile doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even glance at you—he just guides you forward, fingers pressing lightly, keeping you close as he moves with that same effortless authority.

You don’t even have time to process it before you hear a quiet, amused scoff.

Daz Bones, walking a few steps behind, raises a brow “Didn’t think you were the chivalrous type.”

Crocodile barely reacts. If anything, he looks bored, taking a slow drag of his cigar before exhaling, smoke curling through the air “Shut it.”

Daz, to his credit, doesn’t push. But the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smirk.

You glance up at Crocodile, expecting him to move his hand away now that the crowd has thinned. He doesn’t.

In fact, his fingers shift just slightly, a feather-light movement that sends a slow, creeping heat to your face.

Daz chuckles under his breath “Didn’t peg you as the clingy type, either.”

Crocodile stops walking.

The air changes.

It’s not obvious, no outburst, no harsh words, but the shift is immediate. Tension crackles, and for a split second, it feels like the temperature in the room just dropped.

Daz, wise as he is, raises his hands in mock surrender “Forget I said anything.”

Crocodile doesn’t even spare him a glance. His hand, however, still doesn’t move.

You swallow hard “Uh. You can—”

“Stay close,” he interrupts, voice low and even “People stare too much.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. You both know it.

But as his fingers press just a little more firmly against your back, guiding you forward once more, you decide not to call him out on it.

You don’t say anything. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t trust yourself to.

Crocodile’s hand is still there, still resting on your lower back like it belongs, and every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of the heat seeping through his glove. You try not to think about it, try to focus on anything else, but the way his fingers occasionally press just a little firmer, like he’s keeping track of you, making sure you’re right where he wants you, has your thoughts spinning.

Daz Bones says nothing more, though you can feel his amusement. The bastard’s probably enjoying this way too much.

Finally, Crocodile leads you into the private lounge, away from the crowd. The moment you step inside, you expect him to pull away. To let go.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he moves past you to the plush seating area, finally sliding his hand away slowly, like he’s reluctant to do so.

You exhale, a little too sharply. His golden eyes flick to you, sharp and assessing.

“You nervous?”

You scoff, folding your arms to hide the way your hands might be shaking just a little “Please. Why would I be nervous?”

Crocodile doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke in a way that feels almost deliberate. Calculated. Then, just as smoothly, he reaches for the glass of whiskey set out for him.

“You tell me,” he says finally, voice smooth as silk “You’re the one who went quiet.”

Your jaw clenches “You’re imagining things.”

He hums, low and amused “Am I?”

Before you can fire back, the lounge door swings open, and one of his subordinates steps in with a report. The atmosphere shifts immediately, Crocodile’s expression goes from teasing to cold, all business. He gestures for you to sit beside him on the couch, as if nothing just happened, as if he didn’t have his hand on you like a silent claim minutes ago.

You’re still reeling, still trying to get a grip on yourself, but you move toward him anyway, settling next to him as he begins discussing plans.

And then, so casually you almost don’t notice—his arm drapes along the back of the couch.

Close.

Too close.

Not touching, but close enough that if you shifted even slightly, his fingers would graze your shoulder.

It’s intentional. It has to be.

You glance at him, searching for any hint of smugness, but he’s unreadable. Just focused, listening to the report with that same cold indifference.

But when you shift in your seat, just slightly, testing—his fingers twitch.

Your stomach flips.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge it. But that single, almost imperceptible movement is enough to confirm it:

Crocodile is absolutely doing this on purpose now.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo considers himself a composed man. A logical man. He doesn’t fluster easily.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until you came along and ruined everything.

It happens on a regular afternoon at the Revolutionary Army base. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and Sabo is absolutely not panicking…yet.

The two of you are sitting together, going over some mission reports. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Just work.

And then it happens.

Without thinking, Sabo rests his hand on your knee.

Not in a weird way. Not in an intentional way. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You don’t move. You don’t even react.

Sabo doesn’t notice.

But Koala does.

She grins.

“Wow, Sabo, I didn’t know you were so affectionate.”

Sabo blinks “Huh?”

Koala gestures at your knee, where his hand is still resting comfortably.

He follows her gaze. Sees it. Processes it. Immediately short-circuits.

His hand jumps away like he’s been burned. He chokes on air. His soul leaves his body.

“I—THAT WAS—WAIT—” He scrambles for an excuse, for an explanation, for anything that isn’t I just did that on instinct like a lovesick idiot.

Koala smirks “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

Sabo malfunctions. He turns to you, desperate for backup, only to find you watching him with amusement.

Oh, this is bad.

Hack strolls by, raising an eyebrow “You two finally together?”

Sabo dies on the spot.

“WE’RE NOT—” He practically explodes, looking at you with betrayal when you don’t immediately deny it.

You shrug “I don’t mind.”

The world ends.

Koala gasps dramatically “So you wouldn’t mind if Sabo kept touching you?”

Sabo chokes “KOALA.”

You just smile “Nope.”

Sabo’s brain shuts down. His face burns. His entire life flashes before his eyes.

Koala grins “Sabo, you gonna sit there or take their hand again?”

Sabo does what any rational, composed second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army would do in this situation.

He runs.

Straight out of the room, down the hall, past a very confused Dragon, who barely lifts an eyebrow as Sabo barrels past him like he’s fleeing for his life.

He does not stop until he’s outside, hands on his knees, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“You okay there, Chief of Staff?”

Sabo jumps.

Koala is standing behind him, arms crossed, looking way too smug.

He straightens immediately, clearing his throat “I—I just needed fresh air.”

“Right,” Koala says, unconvinced “Totally not because you just had a full-blown crisis over a little hand placement.”

Sabo groans, burying his face in his hands “I wasn’t thinking! It was instinct! And then—and then they said—” His voice breaks. He can’t even say it out loud.

Koala grins “That they don’t mind?”

Sabo melts into the floor.

She claps him on the back “Come on, Sabo. This is a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?!” He looks at her, betrayed “I made an absolute fool of myself!”

“No, you just made it obvious.”

Sabo freezes.

Koala raises an eyebrow, like she can see the realization hitting him in real time “Wait. Don’t tell me you actually thought you were being subtle this whole time?”

Sabo has to sit down.

He buries his face in his hands “This is a nightmare.”

Koala laughs “You’re so dramatic. Just go talk to them.”

“I can’t just—just walk up to them after that!” Sabo gestures wildly “What if they were just teasing me? What if they didn’t actually mean it? What if—”

“Why don’t you ask them instead of spiraling?”

Sabo hates how logical that is.

Koala grins “They’re still inside, you know.”

Sabo grits his teeth. Stands up. Forces himself to breathe.

And then, before he can overthink himself into oblivion, he marches back inside.

You glance up when he approaches “Hey, you okay? You ran out of here pretty fast.”

Sabo feels his entire existence collapse.

But he forces himself to focus, to stay calm. He sits down across from you, clasping his hands together like he’s about to deliver a serious political statement.

“…Did you mean it?”

You blink “Mean what?”

He swallows hard “That you don’t mind.”

There’s a pause.

Then you smile, tilting your head “Yeah. I meant it.”

Sabo forgets how to breathe.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand “Why? Do you mind?”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. He is malfunctioning at maximum capacity.

“…No.”

You grin “Good.”

Then, so casually, you reach over and take his hand this time.

Sabo dies.

[dreamlandcreations]

OPLA men - I licked it so it's mine

Shanks / Mihawk / Zoro / Sanji x Reader

this is @justnerdystuffs' fault idea with a little twist here and there and it has been sitting in my drafts for ages 🫣

Warnings: implied mutual pining, idiots (all of them), fluff, kissing, implied relationship afterwards and other stuff , height difference, not proofread (I just wanted to finish something finally 😭🤧)

• Shanks masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

It's been weeks since you have had a decent meal.

After such a long time, you finally landed on an island with a nice-looking bar where the rest of the crew could celebrate whatever excuse they could come up with for drinking and partying. You couldn't care less at the moment.

You had half the menu ordered, knowing full well some of the guys would join in on the feast whether you invited them or not. And that was fine, really, until they tried to take a bite of your steak. Roux was indeed lucky not to lose a hand.

However, your dearest captain had no such self-preservation instincts. You were on very good terms with the man, Shanks was easy to get along with, but he could be such a child sometimes.

He was sitting right next to you and he moved in the moment you turned your head in the other direction to look at some stunt Yasopp was trying to pull. You turned back just in time at the sound of the fork being stabbed into meat.

You moved fast, but not fast enough. The red-haired manchild took the last piece of your steak and quickly licked it from bottom to top, grinning at you with sauce staining his cheek right from under his scars all the way to his chin.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I licked it so it's mine."

From the other side of the table Ben was watching the scene in morbid fascination, ready to save his captain from certain death once again and he didn't like the sinister grin slowly pulling at your lips.

"Hmm," you leaned closer as Shanks put down the food on his plate, reaching for a napkin to wipe his face before you grabbed his hand, yanked him closer, gripping his chin in your other hand, you slowly licked the sauce off the side of his face before you pulled away and smirked at him as you claimed, "I guess that means you are mine now."

The room turned silent, all eyes on you two, as Shanks regarded you with a strange expression, and Ben stood still right where he jumped up when you launched for the captain, while you just stared at the man before you with slowly widening eyes as you just realised what you have done.

Before you could pull further away, Shanks quickly lifted you from your chair, making it tumble back as he pulled you into his lap with his smile quickly returning but with a new warmth to it, and you already knew you were in trouble before you heard what he had to say.

"Yours, huh?" he asked, cupping your cheek gently as he leaned in impossibly close, playfully nudging your nose with his and whispered, "I think I like the sound of that."

Steak forgotten, the crew's cheering ignored, you kissed the grinning idiot and you could't help but smile into the kiss too.

Ben in the background collapsed back into his chair, grabbed a large bottle of rum, and took a big gulp, already dreading what these two will put him through together.

You didn't know how Shanks convinced the swordsman to stay for the celebration but you were having fun watching your captain get on his nerves and when you saw the opportunity to join in that fun, you just had to do it.

There was no shortage of alcohol but Dracule Mihawk has a certain taste and you knew he would go for the good stuff, so you acted as soon as he got up from his seat from next to Shanks.

You took your time to pour out the remaining wine from the last, almost empty bottle and waited until the warlord got close enough that you could tease him without too many witnesses.

He towered over you somewhat menacingly, slightly raising his eyebrows expectantly as his gaze travelled down to the glass in your hand and back to your face in a meaningful motion. You were not intimidated in the slightest though.

On the contrary, you faked innocence as you mimicked his gesture before locking your gaze with his and letting your lips pull up into a little smirk then you lifted the glass and slowly dragged your tongue around the edge of it.

"I licked it so it's mine." you stated cheerfully and shrugged at his almost unperceivable widened eyes that betrayed his surprise or anger. Definitely disbelief, you decided.

Following a tense silence, a rare smile graced his lips, and you stopped breathing for a moment as he leaned in closer. 

"Is that right?" he murmured. His usually bored tone a mix between amusement, mocking and challenge.

Mihawk didn’t wait for your response but took a hold of your chin and smashed his lips against yours just as you gasped, and he took the opportunity to immediately deepen the kiss and lick into your mouth, letting you taste the wine he has been drinking throughout the night and you had no opportunity to sample because you dropped the glass as soon as his lips touched yours.

He didn't seem bothered by the pricey drink going to waste or you knocking down his hat as you desperately reached out and hang onto him by his nape while you tried to keep up with his maddening, passionate, slow, seductive kiss that made you feel like the room was spinning around you.

He pulled away just as abruptly as he started the kiss but he didn't let you go while he regarded you with a smug expression.

"I believe that makes you mine." When you failed to reply, he faked thinking about it for a second, then his smirk returned and he added, “Hmm. Perhaps I’ll have to be more thorough with my claiming.” before capturing your lips again and lifting you up into his arms to take you away somewhere private to make good on his promise.

Luffy claimed most of the food as you sat down, and he did it in the most disgusting but interesting way possible. He stretched his tongue out and licked over all the plates at his half of the table, grinning as he yelled excitedly, "I licked it! So it's mine!"

A moment of horror passed then everyone dug into (the safe part of) the feast. Everyone, except the green haired menace next to you.

Zoro collected both bottles of wine to himself opening them and storing them on his other side, even though he knew that was the only drink you'd find acceptable and it was pretty much all the same to him as long as it had alcohol in it.

He didn't react to you theatrically clearing your throat as you turned to him so you kicked his leg with a force that made him jump up a little.

He looked at you with surprise that quickly turned into annoyance then a wordless challenge. When the silent staredown didn't end with his win he sighed and reached for both bottles, and he extended one of them towards you but pulled back before you could grab it and went to lick over that bottle opening and then the other. Smiling at you in triumph as he said,

"Heard the captain. Rules are rules!"

Huffing at the audacity, you waited until he raised a bottle to his lips and hit the bottom, tipping it so he would spill the wine on himself.

He stood abruptly, making the chair almost fall over as you laughed.

The others' only reaction was a look in your way, they were used to your antics by now, they expected a fight as soon as you sat down beside the ex pirate hunter.

What no one, including you saw coming was your next move. Your eyes followed the droplets of wine dripping down Zoro's neck as he tried to dry his shirt with a napkin. It was all in vain, the fabric was soaked through.

You blinked a few times, trying to gather some sense into you, and obviously failing as you batted away his hands, produced a knife and slit his shirt open in a flash. Then, as you stood up you licked over his toned abdomen and chest, all the way up to his jaw before biting him teasingly there.

He blinked rapidly, taking in a staggering breath as he looked down at you, fixing his gaze on your now wine red lips. You licked them to savour the taste then you took the other bottle, sauntered over to the door and paused, looking back at Zoro with a challenging eyebrow raise before you left.

"Huh," was all he said before he followed you to your room.

You narrowed your eyes at Sanji, eyeing him with growing annoyance as he ate the rare bite-sized food that was gifted to you as the last creation of the chef who the cook obsessed over for the entire week. He moaned and swooned over the taste as you clenched your teeth together, trying to come up with an appropriate revenge.

Sanji looked at you with innocent eyes, smiling sweetly as he ased, "What?"

You looked down at the empty plate pointedly and then back at the thief just in time to see him shrug. "You know the rule, I licked it so it's mine."

Your body moved before you could think it through, grasping his chin with one hand, brushing away his hair from his face and grabbing him by the back of his head with your other hand as you quickly licked the side of his face and pushed him back a little as you stepped back. There, the gesture says.

Waiting for his disgusted reaction, you started to grin, satisfied with your little revenge for now, at least for a moment or so because he didn't react how you thought at all.

He seemed to be frozen in place except for his slowly widening eyes, then he gasped, giggled, and turned to you with a grin, exclaiming loudly that, "I'm yours now, no takebacks!"

You huffed at the ridiculous train of thought and turned to leave but he hugged you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, arms circling around your waist and you couldn't help but smile as you sighed dramatically but placed your hands on his, letting him pull you into an even tighter embrace that you would be trapped in for a while.

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[kacievvbbbb]

to complement this post

I think the red hair pirates would be obsessed with S-Hawk too! Especially the main group who've known Mihawk through his teenage marine hunting phase.

Benn would know they are walking on thin ice but look at him! He’s a little baby Mihawk! Look at his little uniform shirt tucked into his little shorts. Every angry and threatening expression s-hawk could make would mean nothing to a crew that has seen the real thing live and in color. It would just be adorable like look at his little frown! His glare! The threat of disembodiment in his eyes! Adorable

Mihawk is very uncomfortable with how much the red hair pirates fawn over and adore what is essentially a manufactured baby him. But yet also somehow touched? By it. He’ll kill everyone and then himself before he admits it tho

Yasopp, who actually did know a shorter 19 year old Mihawk, would ask him if he was that adorable but tiny (still can't comprehend that the seraphim are infact giant) as a child and if he had any pictures, and Mihawk almost takes his head.

[crystalcatgamer]

KYAAAAAAA ART OF THE RED HAIR PIRATES IN THIS ECONOMY??? BEAUTIFUL.

Piece from Halloween last year!

[beanghostprincess]

Also what if when the Red Haired and Strawhat pirate crews finally meet. They meet in a populated area and celebrate meeting each other: Shanks and Luffy bond while Usopp and Yasopp are actually doing well together and bonding too. And Sanji (even tho being in a relationship) still fawns over the village girls every once in a while when he's there (not intensely but y'know). And Yasopp sees him and don't think anything of it until Usopp introduces him as his boyfriend. Which quickly pisses him off after seeing how he acts. Which results in Yasopp not liking him, bc well okay, makes sense, but then it leads to him saying he's not allowed to date his son as if he has any control over his life. Which leads to Yasopp and Sanji hating each other and arguing. But also Usopp hating both of them (Sanji for looking at other women still and Yasopp for dictating his life) and refusing to be around them for a while until Sanji and Yasopp realize they were jerks and apologize to him once he calms down.

This been on my head for a long while and I couldn't help but spill since you brought up Yasopp.

Let me kiss your brain. Please. Like. Come here right now and let me kiss your forehead. This is- This is so- Okay. I NEED A MOMENT. I need a moment. Let me breathe. Just a moment.

...

Okay, I'm done breathing. This is AMAZING. And now you have to deal with me talking about it!!!

I think Sanji and Yasopp would not get along because of what you just said. Sanji would still simp for girls everywhere (like, that's something that will never change. And it's not like he tries to sleep with them, he's loyal to Usopp. He's just very, uh, sexually attracted to them an insane amount. Usopp should have permission to bonk him with a hammer every time he does that tbh) and Yasopp would instantly think that he's not good for his son. Which is, you know, understandable, but who is he in Usopp's life to talk about his future? Or at least that's what Sanji would say, complaining about how he doesn't have any right to decide if he's good for his son, keeping in mind that he has never been around.

Yasopp left, but he still cares for his son and he wants to have a good relationship with him. Seeing Sanji like that makes him think about Shanks and Buggy's relationship and that's just not what he wants for Usopp (Shanks, baby, I love you but you're so not beating the cheater allegations). And Sanji... Sanji doesn't have a good relationship with father figures (obviously this is about Judge and not Zeff. Zeff, I love you) and men in general, so tbh I think he would already be a bit resentful towards Yasopp even before meeting him. He would try to hold back, of course, be friendly for Usopp's sake and all. But it doesn't work out.

I find this concept amazing because they care and love Usopp so much that they actually forget about what Usopp truly wants. Overprotective much?? I think they would end up bonding over that, too!!! Usopp would get angry at both of them first, though:

Usopp: What do you mean he's not good for me? You don't know him! Yasopp: But I'm sure he would love to know every girl around here, wouldn't he? If you know what I mean. He's going to end up breaking your heart, kiddo, I know people like him. For fuck's sake, Shanks is like him! Shanks: I'll have you know I am a very stable individual and your captain and a little bit of sexual freedom never hurt anyone! Yasopp: Tell that to your ex-boyfriend. Shanks: Ouch. Unnecessary. Usopp: You don't know him! And for starters, you don't even know me! He's wonderful and perfect for me and even if he weren't, you shouldn't have a say in my romantic life! If you wanted to act like a dad, you should've started years ago! Sanji: Thanks, mon trés- Usopp: And you. Don't you dare mon trésor me right now! My dad might not be allowed to say shit like this about you, but I am. I've gotten used to you flirting with every average-looking girl you see, but I'm sick and tired of you acting like a dog in heat with them. Especially when I'm around. It's- I thought I could just deal with it because I'm not a jealous person, but you need to get your shit together, Sanji. Both of you need to get your shit together. And if you excuse me, I'm going to have a drink with the others because I need a long, long break from you two. [...] Zoro: Now you've done it, curly. Told you you'd fuck this up someday. Sanji: I'm going to murder you. [...] Shanks: And you say I'm the bad father. Yasopp: You still are. Shanks: Maybe, good point there, but I'm not the only one. So that's a relief.

And then they would end up talking things out, of course, because Usopp is the most important person in their lives. I would like to see them bond over that, realizing that they both care about him a lot and that's why all of this happened. Sanji tells Yasopp that, even if he's pretty much obsessed with women, he would never be disloyal to Usopp. Usopp is the one for him. If he says he wants to get married to him one day, Yasopp is the only one who hears it. Sanji just needs to control his urges a lot, tbh. And Yasopp says that he knows he's not allowed to decide who his son should or shouldn't date, but he just wants to be a good father and enjoy the time they have together without some guy breaking Usopp's heart. He doesn't know how to be a dad, but he's willing to try for him.

So I think they end up getting along! Sanji cooks for both crews, of course, and Yasopp is delighted to taste his food. They spend the time laughing and talking about Usopp and Sanji won't stop explaining every adventure they've had together. Usopp, on the other hand, isn't as angry anymore (after talking to Nami about it) and watches from a distance how friendly they are now. This raises the question:

Usopp: God, are they going to be like that now? Nami: Is there an issue with that? Usopp: I don't know. Maybe? It's just weird. Robin: Maybe they start talking about all of your dirty secrets and embarrassing memories :) (<- Super friendly and not at all scary smile) Usopp: I want to die.

At some point, Sanji brings Usopp food and Yasopp comes along. They both apologize to him and, well, it's not as scary as Usopp thought. And they might be stupid and flawed, but they're still two of the people he loves the most.

Gonna have a whole breakdown over this now, thank you. I'm gonna think about this all day long. And tomorrow too. I'm sobbing. I have a lot of thoughts right now. Thinking about Sanji asking Yasopp for Usopp's hand because he's just classy like that and Yasopp accepting and Sanji like: "Okay, cool, because I was going to marry him anyway even if you said no. Glad I didn't have to kick your ass."

I'm gonna cherish this ask forever. Thank you. <3

[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”.

[helioswritings]

Want

Shanks x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

Warnings: none

You’re in love with your captain, you know it like you know the sun is going to come up in the mornings, and go down at night.

The air was cold as you exited the warmth of the bar and the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes made them sting. You felt stupid, you were stupid. Shanks could kiss whoever he wanted in whatever shit bar he wanted to. You weren't together, hell, he didn't even know how you felt, so it was stupid to be jealous.

It didn't stop you though, especially when you closed your eyes and saw his hand trailing up her thigh, of her grabbing his face to pull him in closer, to make the kiss deeper. You debated even going back to the ship tonight, you really didn't want to be around if he was going to bring her aboard, and then you felt really pathetic about that, so you marched back to the Red Force anyways.

You knew how Shanks was, and you were very conscious of who he was, too. One of the Four Emperors of the sea and those who weren't terrified of him probably wanted them in his bed too. You knew he had the ability of making people feel special, you knew the power of his charismatic smile, of his loyalty and ferocity. He'd gotten you to fall in love with him easily enough, after all, even if he didn't mean to. You doubt(more like hoped) he knew, but you knew the rest of the crew had long since caught on. You're pretty sure Yasopp had thrown you a pitying look as you walked out, which really humiliated you because you didn't want to live in a world where fucking Yasopp pitied you.

As you were ambling your way through the sand back to the ship, a hand on your shoulder stilled you.

"Where are you going?" The rough timbre of your captain's voice rumbled in your ear.

"Wasn't feeling like drinking tonight, sorry Captain."

You turned to look him in the eye and regretted it. Shanks had lipstick smudged across the corner of his lips and the pupils of his golden brown eyes were blown. He looked very pleased with himself, or would, if he wasn't wearing a small frown.

"Are you feeling okay? Do I need to call Hongo?"

You laugh, although a little bitterly. "No, Captain, I don't need you to call the ship's doctor because I don't feel like drinking."

His frown deepens. "At least let me see you back to the ship."

You know he's stubborn enough to not leave you alone about it, he's got an awful lot of manners for a pirate.

"You looked like you were having fun," you say instead, "don't let me stop you."

"Nah, I'd rather see you back safely."

And doesn't that just piss you off? That he makes you feel so special when you know the opposite? When you know he doesn't look at you and imagine what it would be like to kiss you? You allow an annoyed huff to leave you, but you don't voice it. If the great Red-Haired Shanks wants to personally escort you, then far be it from you to stop him. What a bastard.

The walk is quiet and as usual you stand on the side where his arm is. He prefers it that way, he says, he tells you he likes to be able to reach out and grab you if he needs to. He's so charming about it.

"Do you need me to stay with you?" He breaks the silence between the two of you.

"I'm a grown woman, I don't need a babysitter." The words are razor sharp, a little harsher than you intend for them to come across.

He closes his eyes and lets out a huff of annoyance. Shanks probably isn't used to this amount of pushback from you. "Let me rephrase: do you want me to stay with you?"

You do, of course you do, but you shake your head. "I'll manage."

His eyes turn a little steely and you know this to be his captain expression. "I'm going to stay with you."

You groan internally. "Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to keep me company?" A little harmless flirting didn't hurt anything.

"Always."

And that's too weighty for you right now, especially from someone who had his tongue down another woman's throat a few minutes back.

Shanks escorts you to the ship and then up to his room, which is another thing just off about tonight.

"You'd think I was dying the way you're giving me all this special treatment, Captain."

"I just need to talk to you, to keep you company."

Something warm settles in your chest, something syrupy sweet. You can't get rid of it as you sit on a chair next to his ridiculously sized bed, so you tell him; "this bed is ridiculous."

"My ego needs somewhere to sleep."

You snort. "And I'm sure it sleeps well in a bed like this. It looks like Whitebeard and his whole crew could sleep on this thing."

"Now you're just being ridiculous." He says, though it's with a smile.

"Have to be ridiculous to be on this crew, Captain."

He sobers immediately. "That's what I needed to talk about."

That's almost never good. "Go on."

"Do you want to leave? The crew? You've been acting differently, distant."

You didn't think he would notice, nor did you think he could sound so....vulnerable. Like the thought of you leaving hurt.

"I've just been thinking," you say, and then your eyes widen at the utter despair that crosses his face, "not about leaving! It's like- well, I definitely don't want to say."

His hand brushes your cheek. "You can tell me anything."

And you believe him, you really do. "I'm pretty sure I'm, at least somewhat, in love with you."

He jolts back like you've taken out a cattle prod and shocked him. "You're what?"

The tone of his voice makes you regret your words and you move to get up, but just as soon as you've moved away he's grabbing on to you again. "Are you sure?"

The laugh you let out is wounded. "More sure than anything in my whole life."

Shanks leans forward and he's so so close. You can feel his breath across your face. "I'm...." You don't know what to say, not really. You're afraid that if you're too loud, you'll scare him away.

"Is this your first kiss?" He's not teasing, just curious.

"Far from," you answer, still whispering, "I've just never wanted it this bad."

A finger trails across your collarbone and you shiver. "How bad?"

"Like it's all I can think about."

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your lip. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yes."

"I've never done it when I really wanted it."

You rub at the lipstick on his face. "Are you sure?"

He rubs his head into your neck. "I've wanted you so bad I can feel the want running through my veins."

"Careful there, Captain, you're sounding like someone's dirty novel."

The two of you are nose to nose now. "Shanks."

It feels more intimate, somehow, even though you can feel his breath fan across your face, even though every movement makes your noses brush. Absent-mindedly, you lick your lips. His eyes track the movement and you shiver. His cheeks are flushed and you don't think it's from the ale.

Shanks cups the sides of your face gently, like he's holding something fragile and precious. He leans closer.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod like you can't bring yourself to talk - like the idea of talking is at all appealing to you right now,

He leans forward and captures your lips with his own. He's like a man starved, kissing you like he'll never eat or drink again. You gasp into his mouth and he takes advantage of it. The feel of his tongue startles you into backing away and he frowns.

"I'm sorry." He tells you.

"Don't be. It was just a lot, kissing like you weren't just kissing someone else."

He touches the corner of his mouth, pulling away vermillion stains with his fingers. "When you walked away, I followed after you."

"You looked like you were having fun."

"She wasn't you, though. They never are."

Shanks pulls you on the bed with him, his lone arm circling around you to tug you close. "I never feel the same way about them as I do you."

You can't help it. "And how do you feel about me?"

"A lot. Like I've waited my whole life for you. I feel a whole lot about you."

Your snort turns into a giggle as you bury your face in his neck. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Neither does how I feel about you."

You yawn, the softness of his bed and the warmth of his body suddenly becoming too much for you. "Goodnight, Shanks."

He kisses the top of your head, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

And it is.

[innerfare]

Random Shanks Headcanons 

Summary: A random collection of Shanks headcanons

CW: None // SFW

———

Has a fake arm that he uses for gags. Only he and Yasopp find it funny. Beckman once tossed the arm overboard after Shanks ‘lost’ the arm in a pot of Lucky Roux’s stew, only for Shanks to enter the mess hall the next morning with another attached to his body. 

Can do magic tricks, especially good with coins and cards. A very skilled sleight of hand artist. Also not above using these tricks to cheat while playing cards. (Inspired by the coin game w/ Luffy flashback). Cheating is the only way he can beat Beckman, who’s by far the best player on the crew. But he doesn’t even cheat to win, he just likes the thrill of getting away with it; also enjoys the thrill of getting caught. There was a rabbit loose aboard the Red Force for a solid month after the captain tried to learn how to pull it out of a hat.

The best beer pong player in the New World, probably the entire world. Would challenge all of his enemies to a game of beer pong to settle their disputes if he thought they would respect the results of the game. Good at drinking games in general (has a little too much experience).

Is an infamous gossip. If a member of the crew wants word to get out about something, they just mention it to their captain. 

Enjoys playing matchmaker. Always acts as a wingman for his crew when there’s a pretty bar maid. The only one he never tried to fix up with one of his crew mates was his darling Makino. 

Are soap operas a thing in the One Piece universe? Because if so, he has a favorite that he never misses an episode of (fights hardest on Thursdays so he can be home in time to catch the latest episode of Search for One Piece, a pirate drama based loosely on Roger’s life. He particularly enjoys the harlequin character). 

Loves meddling in any drama that comes up aboard the ship. Sometimes even starts drama just for entertainment, like the time he told Lucky Roux that he saw Limejuice sneaking steaks from the freezer, or when he robbed Beckman blind and left traces of a turkey leg at the scene of the crime. 

Thinks childish pranks are the funniest thing in the world. Pranks prospective crew members to see how they respond; screens them based on whether they find his jokes funny. Beckman insists this is not the best way to do things but Shanks persists. But Shanks isn't just being childish. He's making sure everyone who joins his crew has a good nature as that is, in his opinion, the most important thing. If you can't trust your crew, you're dead in the water.

Was definitely posing when the government snapped the photo for his wanted poster but pretends it was completely candid. Has a habit of comparing his wanted poster to the posters of his enemies.

He also uses his wanted poster to fish for compliments, especially from his crew. “That’s a pretty good picture, isn’t it?” “I don’t look half bad in that, do I?” “The real reason the marines are hunting me- the sight of my wanted poster makes their wives swoon.”  

Refers to himself as, “that handsome devil.” 

Smells like body odor and weed, but in a Matthew McConaughey kind of way (that is to say, it works for him). 

Animals and babies always like him. He insists the trick is to act uninterested. 

He is genuinely good-natured, but he definitely uses his sense of humor to disguise how terrifying he truly is. Is a pro at lulling people into a false sense of security. Definitely slouches on purpose to seem less intimidating.

Secretly paid off Luffy's "treasure tab" at Makino's bar. Didn't do it just to be kind to the poor kid but actually because he believed Luffy when he said he'd pay it back in full and did it to annoy Luffy a decade or two down the line. (When Luffy finally goes back to pay Makino and she informs him Shanks already did, Luffy blows a gasket.)

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates

MDNI

An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you find yourself wrestling with frustrations out of your league

Shanks x f!reader (more relevant in part 2)

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

There are many roads to piracy.

Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

Sailors fly the jolly roger for adventure, for freedom, for greed. Sweet or savage, pirates turn to the sea for a thrilling life away from responsibility. Not for double-entry accounting.

It should be all swords and swashbuckling, especially on a yonko’s flagship. Music and tuneless singing have steeped in the ship’s hull along with sea brine and rum, staining the Red Force with a mighty reputation.

And yet. Here you sit: ink-stained fingers, spectacles, and all.

The financial charts, ledgers, and reports from across the Emperor’s territory make a compelling excuse to skip the evening’s celebrations. Light from the overhead lantern trembles with the rhythmic force of a dozen idiots dancing – or fighting – on deck. You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y. No one has cannons aimed at the Red Force, and there’s no pressing need for sobriety. Standard practice, really.

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters. You’ll burn if you get too much, but it’s an unavoidable hazard at sea.

Even if you’re only half-crew.

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title.

Except. Well. There was always…

“Nerd!”

You drag your eyes away from ledger lines and decimals to blink at Yasopp. The sniper is drunk and enjoying himself. And pointing at you.

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

One finger curls over a notebook’s cover, and you contemplate how many more hours of work you can eek out before you’re too tired for responsible accounting.

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Yasopp shakes his head. Grins. “Orders.”

Your eyes roll away from the pirate and back to the mathematic wreck on the desk. “Whatever. Just leave me something and I’ll lift a glass to your unconscious ass before I sleep.”

Cackling, Yasopp ferries your answer back to the party, and you work the puzzle of knotted equations until the lantern stops swinging and the racket falls silent. Pirates not on watch stumble through the corridors on their way to their bunks, slurring and laughing on the other side of the wall. Even that goes quiet eventually.

Your eyes burn from focusing too hard to blink for minutes on end, and you decide it’s safe to stop for the night. Off come the glasses, neatly folded and tucked into a desk drawer. They’ll be safer there than on your person, and you only need them for reading fine print. You didn’t used to. Not when you started. But that’s true of a lot of things.

With joints that creak like the steps you ascend, you head up on deck. Bodies of the fallen sleep under a blanket of stars – the ones who drank themselves to sleep or refused to leave the party before waking in the morning. The few on watch peer down from crow’s nests or attend minor chores around their comrades’ spread limbs and upturned bellies.

Yellow lights contrast with the velvet black-blue stitching together endless sea and sky, and you can’t help relaxing just a little as you approach the one table with a conscious crewman. The cherry of his cigarette burns bright, and smoke curls into the breeze.

“Benn.”

He nods, mumbling your name. As you sit, he slides a large tankard to your side of the table.

It doesn’t look like wine. Doesn’t smell like beer. It’s the wrong color for sake. “It’s rum, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t send Yasopp with a preference,” the first mate says. The telling glint in his eye betrays his good humor. “This was all we had left.”

“I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.”

Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

You doubt it, even if it’s more plausible, but there’s no point arguing. Time to finish the last task of the day.

Lifting the heavy cup, you tilt your head back and chug.

“Steady.” Benn watches with his arms crossed.

You drink rather than answer. Swallowing fire, you drain half of what was left for you.

“I’m tired,” you say when you stop to breathe, “and I want to go to bed.”

Bed is a hammock in the groaning belly of the ship. Surrounded by other hammocks. Full of pirates. Who snore. Loudly. A night of drinking never helps the volume, but maybe your share will help you black out.

“If I drink fast enough, I’ll be asleep before it hits and it won’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

He’s very good at letting people make their own mistakes. You’ve watched him to it. But this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed through liquid social obligations on your way to rest. He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks, you’re sure.

The second half of the rum goes down like the first, and you aren’t even tipsy as you take your leave and head below. It’s a good plan. Maybe it would’ve worked, too, if it weren’t for the chaos you find in your assigned quarters.

While the little study always holds records, you aren’t aboard often enough to have a dedicated sleeping space. No cabin. Not even a bunk. Just a hammock in the hold with the lower ranks. You left your small trunk by one near the door, and you’d slept there for the past five nights running without issue.

Until now.

There must’ve been a brawl, or one of the bigger men misjudged his approach under the influence, because a wad of ripped and tangled hammocks sits piled in the center of the room. All the remaining options, including your unofficially claimed space, are full.

You can’t go to bed.

There is no bed.

Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

Sooner or later, the rum will hit, and you know better than to wait for it on your feet. So, you pick a place by Benn’s table and settle with your ass on the deck and your back against a wall.

Technically speaking, you’ve slept in worse places.

Realistically speaking, you usually sleep in better.

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

This is the consequence of your actions. Today it’s glasses and rum. Tomorrow it will be a sore head and an aching tailbone. The day after it will probably be a cannonball to the face. No matter how lackadaisical the crew behaves, they’re all pirates at the end of the day, and so are you.

Why are you a pirate? Why are you here? Your life was so slow and orderly before a big grin and a thatch of red hair flipped it on its head. Did you ever actually agree to this life, or did you just fail to argue with the plan? That must be the problem. If you never learn to say no, whatever comes is your fault. But if you learn to say no, you’ll have to learn to say yes, too. That might be worse.

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace.

“What’s eating ya?”

“Mosquitoes, maybe.”

“Nah.” He stubs out the butt of his cigarette and reaches for the pack. “Been off since your last sabbatical. Longer, if we’re being honest, but it really has its teeth in you now.”

“Nothing.” Gods. You sound like a teenager.

He hums, lights up a fresh smoke, and leaves it alone.

You can’t even explain why you’re in a bad mood. It’s just vibes. A feeling that makes sense until you try caging it in words.

You’ve been part of Shank’s entourage for years now, and you’ve seen the impact of his influence.

He makes things better. Things grow under his care.

That’s good. That’s great. That’s better than most folks in the New World ever expect to find in their lifetimes. But somehow it doesn’t apply to you.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The hollow thunk sounds as empty as you wish you could make your skull.

People drink to forget, or so some sad, broken soul tells you in every bar in every port you’ve ever visited. It’s a neat trick you never learned, though. Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

It doesn’t make you the party girl the Red-Haired Pirates clearly hoped for the first time they dragged you into a night of carousing. It didn’t help your on-again off-again crewmate status. No one besides a handful of the most seasoned officers knew how to speak to you, and you could count those on one hand.

If you could bring yourself to care less about what you did, you would’ve flipped everyone the bird ages ago, refused to board the Red Force after one of your little layovers and made a home somewhere.

But you can’t, and you don’t, and the alcohol fumes up from belly to brain with old memories.

Once upon a time you bumped into a grey-haired man at the dock. His hands were full of loose papers and notebooks. When they clattered to the ground, you immediately helped pick them up, because that was just good manners. As you gathered the pages, you saw the numbers, and your brain leapt ahead of your mouth, so as you handed the collection back to Shank’s first mate, you blithely mentioned, “You have some transportation and duplication errors in the top account that are throwing off your totals.”

And, low and behold, the next day the first mate – one Benn Beckman – tracked you down and discussed working for one of the most powerful people in the Grand Line.

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face. And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

They gave you a strange job.

Emperors reigned in their own ways. Force and threats were standard, but Shanks followed no rules. He governed without actually doing anything, relying on booty stolen at sea and the generosity of thriving island economies to maintain his ship and crew. At least it looked that way from the outside. But the system relied on more than luck and good looks.

Your tasks follow a cycle. The Red Force drops you at an island, leaves you there, then picks you up a few (many) months later. When you’re aboard, you review and balance the ship’s books. When you’re on land, you do the real work. You record how things work on the island, or how they don’t, and you gather the numbers to prove it. Then Shanks and his commanders use your data to find the best ports for long stays, to spot unrest before it became insurrection, and to generally handle pirate business.

Honestly, you enjoy it. You never thought your uncanny skills with numbers could lead to so much travel, and you like island hopping. It’s nice to be special. It’s nice to be needed, even a little. It should be enough. You have more than most.

The itch in the back of your mind has been getting worse, though, especially as you start looping back to hubs you visited in your early days as a quasi-pirate.

Things have grown. People have put down roots. They flourish and offer good fruit in return.

But you haven’t found a way to grow into the Red-Hair Pirates the way other people settle into their lives. Your roots grasp at salt water.

At the start of this adventure, years ago, you let the tide wash you out to sea. It’s no one’s fault but yours, and that doesn’t make you feel any better, so you self-isolate and avoid what you can’t explain.

Pirates aren’t big on feelings talk.

And you’re at least half a pirate.

“Eh, nerd still can’t hold her rum?”

Apparently, Shanks hasn’t surrendered to tomorrow’s hangover yet.

You huff as Benn’s chuckle rumbles over you. Without opening your eyes, which slipped closed at some point you can’t be fucked to remember, you say, “Nerd can hold her rum. Nerd’s hammock was a casualty of war.”

“Ah.” A chair creaks as the captain joins Beckman’s table. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t stay out voluntarily. And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?”

“I did my duty. I just want to sleep.”

Shanks tsks, and you finally crack an eye open. He’s taken the chair closest to your spot on the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” You knock your boot against his bare ankle, frowning. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.”

The insistence is inching towards an order. While the Red Hair Pirates have never followed conventional standards of respect, when Shanks tells you to do something, you listen.

Groaning, swearing, and taking your precious time, you stretch and inch away from the haze of sleep. You spare a filthy look for Beckman as you clamber onto a chair, because you can easily reason your way into this being his fault. The bastard smirks around his cigarette.

Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together. Fuck knows what “this” is, but you’re sailing through Tipsy on the way to Drunk, and clearly there are plans in motion to blow you to the far shores of Hammered.

Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

You drink. So does Shanks. Beckman enjoys his smoke.

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

But you’ll be ashore again in a few days, and if you let yourself grow into the crew, you’ll tear yourself apart when they leave.

And if they never come back?

Even a Yonko can die. And Shanks is changeable. One day they may not come back for you.

Did you eat dinner? The rum glows warm in your blood.

You find yourself ready to forgive Beckman. For… whatever. He was responsible. He was never the problem.

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare.

“Do you realize how frustrating you are?”

His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

Yes. This is what you’ve been wrestling with it. He’s the problem.

“You’re the strongest.” You gesture as you speak, and rum splashes out, burning the cracked skin over your knuckles. “No one else can take care of you, so you better take care of yourself.”

Another kick. You aim for your captain’s ankle again, but you hit his shin. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you could hurt him if you tried. While you aren’t the weakest aboard the Red Force, you’re pretty damn far from the strongest.

Shanks whines anyway, and Beckman’s dry laugh sounds like old leaves rattling in the wind.

“Seriously.” You empty your cup. That gives the truth time to percolate. There’s no helping it now. You’re smashed, and your dignity has flown. Your fist props up your drooping head as tangled thoughts spin out into thread.

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

The immediate silence takes a minute to catch up with you. The rum has floated you beyond a standard perception of time, and your head is too loud to notice everything outside hasn’t kept up.

You frown.

You think.

And you realize.

In that moment, you aren’t a ship. There is no chair, table, or lantern to keep you steady. You’re floating in the black abyss, and you know without seeing that a sea king is circling for the kill. There’s no air. Or light. Or distraction. Just terrible, dreadful awareness.

Oh, gods.

Stars, seas, and sabers. Fucking hells and all the horrors below.

You love Shanks.

It’s the stupidest thing in the world, and it makes perfect sense.

You just informed on yourself. To yourself. And possibly to the two men eyeing you, but there’s grace in nebulous phrasing, and no one should be taken too seriously after so much rum.

You leap to your feet and point straight between the captain’s eyes.

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Shanks just blinks at you, and Beckman keeps his thoughts to himself as you back away, trip over your chair, and stagger back down to the study. You hold your head so high you can’t see your feet, and you earn a dozen nicks and bruises on your way.

You sleep in the corner with your jacket as a blanket, and in the morning, you tell yourself nothing happened at all.

[penkura]

OP Men as Dads Part 2

Note: I chose to do another five OP men for this one!! My brain won't shut off about these men being dads, I'm losing it omg. I hope these are good, I kind of struggled a little but just wrote whatever came to mind. Maybe I can do a part three at some point with more of them! I have a small idea for Mihawk and Franky, but that's it so far. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Sticking baby Ace for the image because I got nothing else lol.

Part One Here!

Kid is a boy dad, I’m sorry he just is. I can’t see him with a daughter really, unless she’s the youngest and was a surprise. But anyway! He’d have three boys that were all three years apart, and all are exactly like him. You really do love your sons and husband, but how you wish at least one of your boys was calm. The four of them are always roughhousing to the point you’ve had to set rules to keep from Kid accidentally hurting them, or your children from breaking things when he isn’t involved. When you have a set of twins a few years after your third son, another two boys, you’re done and just accepting your fate as a boy mom. You and Kid love all your boys though, neither of you would change anything, especially when your youngest ends up being a momma’s boy who’s finally calm and would rather spend his time with you than anyone else. Kid isn’t jealous, he swears.

~~

Usopp I can see with two girls! A few years between them, and they’re both the light of his life aside from you of course! Every story he tells them before bed makes them both so excited to grow up and become Pirates themselves, brave women of the sea! The oldest will want to help Usopp and Franky with inventions and fixing up the ship, while the youngest wants to be a sniper like her dad. You have no complaints about either one of those, more than grateful they both want to take after Usopp and following in his footsteps. Your girls absolutely love their dad, you get a little jealous sometimes, but getting to watch the three of them bond is your favorite thing in the world. It might make him a little emotional, especially after not having Yasopp around as he grew up.

~~

Shanks, I’m sure a lot are wondering about, would be such a great dad, we’ve seen him with Luffy and Uta, there’s no way he’d let down his biological kids imo. I see him with a son first, one with his hair that’s even more wild, and then twin girls! They’d all be about four years apart in age, but they’d run him ragged day in and day out. He'd teach your son how to wield a sword and help him develop his Haki, while your daughters will learn more hand to hand combat, though your youngest will join the sword lessons when she’s ready. When they’re little, he lets your girls put pins and braids in his hair, while telling all three of them stories about his time on the sea. The rest of the crew adores your children, Shanks knew they’d all be great uncles to your little ones.

~~

SHACHI WOULD SUCH A GOOD DAD OMG. You think I’m pushing Penguin propaganda, I’m here for Shachi now too. He’ll have two boys within two years of each other, yes the second is a surprise but so beyond welcomed, and then several years later a little girl that has all three of them wrapped around her finger! Your daughter would have his red hair, she’d just be the prettiest little thing, with chubby cheeks and her hair pulled back into two little ponytails. Your sons would have a mix between your hair and Shachi’s, both taking more after their dad in personality than anything. Of course, Shachi will teach all three of them to defend themselves, but especially your daughter since she’s the baby and he just wants her to be safe, even with her big brothers as her guardians.

~~

Rosinante, Corazon, however we wish to call him, he would be the best dad out of this group, I’m sure of it. Apart from taking in Law, he’d have two of his own children, a girl first and then a boy a couple years later. Law would act as a big brother to the two, it’d be the cutest thing ever. While your daughter would be outgoing and ready to take on the world, your son would much shier and would rather hide himself behind you or Corazon, normally his dad though. Corazon would NOT let Doflamingo around them; he’d probably keep the three of you a secret, maybe even his adoption of Law too, just to keep you all safe. He’s lost family before, he doesn’t want it to happen again, even if that means picking up and moving you all where his brother can’t find you. Apart from that, Corazon would make sure all of you had everything you needed, and your son would hold onto him through everything.  Your daughter would attach more to Law, but that’s perfectly fine, he’s accepted her as his new little sister and wants to protect her, he wants to protect your son too where he can. Your daughter would also want to keep her baby brother safe, not one of you would let a thing happen to a hair on his head. Corazon finally has a family again, a family of his own, he’s not letting anything happen to any of you anytime soon.