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sh4nksslvt · 2 days ago

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Heyo! :>

Hope you are doing good! Can i please request an angst scenario with Shanks where Reader is the older Sister of Makino, who is a crew member of him. Both in a relationship but Reader kinda always knew that his affection was not for her but for his sister, he connected with everytime they visit Foosha Village but since she loved him so much, she couldn't let go. Maybe they go back to Foosha Village and she saw the differnece how he treats them both (how his eyes soften when he talsk to Makino, his longing gaze, etc.) and she decides to go without saying a word after the others start to joke drunkely how much in love their captain is. Make it 2 years later and Shanks sees her with a child in her arms with the same red hair he has while she works in an orphanage or a bar. You can decide how it ends for both of them! :>

I hope it is understandble, Thank you for your hardwork 🙂‍↕️ Stay hydrated and don't forget to take rests! :>

here ya go hope i delivered it well!

The One He Looked At

She was always the one by his side—until she realized she was never the one in his heart.

shanks x fem! reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, hurt/no comfort, oc, heartbreak, secret child, emotional betrayal, secret relationship(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ffs cringe n akward words count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The rocking of the Red Force was no longer soothing.

You stood by the railing, arms crossed, eyes on the horizon, but your thoughts were nowhere near the sea. You’d spent years sailing under Shanks's flag, years of laughter, blood, drink, and whispers in the dark. Years of pretending he loved you back.

But now… now you were headed toward the place where it all began—and where it always seemed to return.

Foosha Village.

Home.

Where your younger sister still lived.

Makino.

She had always been warm, gentle, soft-spoken. You? You were louder, fiercer, a protector ever since your parents passed. When you joined Shanks's crew, it was Makino you missed most. And every time the Red Force docked at the village, you noticed something shift in Shanks.

It started subtly—how he stood a little straighter before getting off the ship. How his eyes darted toward the tavern the moment it came into view. How his laugh seemed warmer, his voice softer, when he greeted your sister.

And this time, it was no different.

“Foosha Village, ahoy!” Lucky Roux called.

Benn walked past you, nodding in greeting. “You alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… seasick.”

He snorted. “You’ve been at sea for a decade. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

But you said nothing, and he didn’t press.

When Shanks disembarked, his boots touched the sand, and you watched from behind as his shoulders relaxed, as if he’d finally come home.

And then you saw it again—his eyes scanning, lighting up when they found her.

Makino.

You stood awkwardly by the barrels near the dock as the crew dispersed. You hadn’t been back in two years. Makino smiled brightly, welcoming everyone, arms open, the same as always. She hugged you tight too, and you tried—gods, you tried—to pretend nothing had changed.

But when Shanks stepped forward, it was the way his voice dropped an octave, the way his gaze lingered on her hair, her hands, her smile. It was the way he didn’t even look back at you.

The party at the tavern was loud, drunk, joyful. Music, food, barrels of sake. Makino served with grace, laughing as the crew called her name, telling old stories from their first visit to the village.

You sat at a corner table, half a glass of wine in your hand, watching Shanks laugh with Benn. Makino walked by, and your captain’s eyes followed her without shame.

And then it happened.

“Oi, Captain!” Howled Yasopp, slurring slightly. “When you gonna make an honest woman outta that barkeep, eh?”

The others roared with laughter.

Even Benn chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not exactly subtle, boss.”

“C’mon!” Lucky Roux raised his mug. “To Shanks and Makino!”

The tavern echoed with cheers.

Your stomach twisted.

You glanced at Shanks, hoping, pleading, that he’d correct them. Laugh it off. Deny it. Say anything.

But he only smiled… wistfully.

That was all the answer you needed.

You stood up. No one noticed. Not even him.

You didn’t leave a letter.

Didn’t take anything that wasn’t yours.

Didn’t wake anyone.

You simply walked out in the dead of night with a small bag over your shoulder, heart heavier than any anchor.

You’d stayed because you loved him. Because you hoped.

But hope had become a knife.

And you were done bleeding.

Foosha’s sun was warmer than you remembered. The breeze gentler.

The bar had changed a bit—new paint, a new sign, a few extra chairs. You leaned out the door, swaying a baby in your arms, humming softly. A mop of red hair nuzzled against your chest, small fingers clinging to your shirt.

“Easy, Kaz,” you whispered, kissing the crown of his head. “Mama’s got you.”

“Mama!”

You turned. A child ran toward you—one of the orphans, barefoot and grinning. You crouched to scoop her up with your free arm.

“Yes, sweet pea?”

“A pirate ship’s here!”

You blinked.

And then you felt it.

That presence. That shadow in the sun.

You stood slowly, heart thudding.

Shanks.

He stood by the dock, eyes wide.

His crew lingered behind him, uncertain.

Your gaze met his, and for the first time, he looked shaken.

Not you.

Not anymore.

You shifted your weight, pulling Kaz closer. His tiny hand gripped your necklace—the old, tarnished trinket Shanks gave you long ago.

Red hair. Amber eyes. Mischievous smile that mirrored his father’s.

Shanks took a step forward.

Then another.

“Kaz…” he whispered.

You raised your chin. “Don’t.”

He stopped.

“I’m not here for a scene,” you said. “This is my life now.”

“I didn’t know,” he croaked.

“I didn’t want you to.”

The silence cracked between you.

Kaz wriggled. “Mama, up!”

You lifted him easily, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You saw Shanks's eyes mist over.

“I never…” He trailed off. “Was it ever real? Between us?”

You let out a dry laugh. “It was for me.”

His shoulders hunched.

You wanted to scream at him. To ask why he led you on, why he looked through you like a ghost while worshipping someone you had protected since childhood.

But you didn’t.

You’d said goodbye once already.

You weren’t going to bleed again.

Later, Shanks found you alone by the cliffside. Kaz was asleep inside, the orphans playing nearby.

“I won’t stay long,” he said.

You didn’t respond.

“I came back to see Makino.”

That didn’t surprise you. “She’s inside.”

“But I didn’t expect to see you. Or… him.”

You looked at the horizon, arms crossed. “You never saw me before either.”

He flinched. “I did. I just… didn’t know how much.”

You turned to face him.

He looked older. Tired.

“I loved you,” you said. “More than I should’ve. And you loved someone else. That’s not a crime, Shanks. But pretending otherwise hurt more than the truth ever could.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. But you did.”

He stepped forward. “What now?”

You hesitated.

Then smiled—gently, bittersweet.

“You go be a pirate. I go raise our son. That’s all.”

“…Can I see him?”

You nodded. “Maybe. One day. When you’re ready.”

He looked down, hands clenched. Then back at you.

“I missed my chance, didn’t I?”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. You did.”

The Red Force left that evening.

No fanfare. No goodbyes.

You stood on the porch, Kaz in your arms again, waving politely as the ship faded into the horizon.

He waved back with tiny fingers.

You smiled softly.

It hurt. But less than before.

You had something worth holding onto now.

And he? He had his regrets.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #idk man #idk what im doing #angst #shanks x reader #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks one piece #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair pirates

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wispitty · 1 day ago

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shanks x reader | “a new hire” {ch.1}

summary: you're the new waitress at makino’s bar. sweet, shy and just looking for a quiet place to belong to. but when the red hair pirates dock for the night, you catch the eye of their infamous captain, shanks—and somehow, one night turns into something far more than you'd prepared for. tag list: shanks/you, slow burnish, tension & tenderness, made from shanks brainrot (literally its so bad), first sight feelings, he's protective chapter list:

chapter one

Chapter 1: Warm Welcomes

The golden light of the setting sun spilled through the windows of the little seaside bar, casting a warm glow over polished wood and soft shadows. You moved behind the counter, carefully arranging plates and cleaning as you went, sleeves rolled up and hair slightly tousled from the afternoon rush. It had been about a week since Makino brought you on, and while you were starting to find your rhythm, you still felt like a small note in a song you hadn’t quite learned the melody to yet.

The front door creaked open just as you reached for a clean glass.

Boots on the floorboards. Laughter, rough and familiar. A deep voice rumbling in easy amusement. You turned, half-expecting another local—only to freeze when you saw who had stepped inside.

Shanks.

The infamous captain of the Red Hair Pirates stood in the doorway, black cloak billowing slightly from the sea breeze, his one hand casually resting on his hip. And behind him? His whole crew.

His dark eyes swept across the bar once before landing on you—lingering there, quiet and curious.

He looked older than the stories told. A few more lines around his eyes, a little more weight behind his gaze. The jagged scar over his left eye only emphasized the sharpness of his stare. And yet… the corners of his mouth pulled into a grin. Not cocky. Not even playful.

Just… warm.

“Well,” he said, voice low and smooth, “this place hasn’t changed a bit.”

Behind him, Beckman stepped in with a cigarette between his lips, giving a faint nod to the bar’s familiar walls.

Shanks tilted his head slightly, eyes still on you.

“Except that part,” he added. “I don’t remember her.”

Beckman glanced over. “New hire,” he said simply.

Shanks hummed, his grin deepening. “Is that so?”

He crossed the room slowly, shoes tapping softly on the floor, and leaned against the counter. Despite his easy posture, there was a quiet intensity to him—like the sea just before a storm, calm but impossibly vast.

You realized you hadn’t said anything. Not yet.

But when the situation catches up to you, you stiffen immediately. No matter who they are, customers just walked in. And all customers need to be greeted.

“O-Oh! Hello there! Welcome to Makino’s!”

Shanks blinked, then let out a soft chuckle at your flustered greeting. There was something disarming about it—how your voice wavered just slightly, how your hands moved quickly to set the glass down as if you’d just remembered you were holding it.

“‘Makino’s,’ huh?” he repeated, straightening up a little. “Still has a nice ring to it.”

He glanced around the room like he was taking it all in for the first time again—the weathered stools, the sun-warmed countertop, the faint scent of citrus wood polish that always lingered near the shelves. Then, his gaze returned to you, and this time it didn’t drift away.

“You must be the new waitress Makino mentioned in her last letter.” His tone was lighter now, teasing. “Said you were polite. Said you were sweet. Said you baked.”

Beckman raised an eyebrow behind him. “She also said you shouldn’t scare her.”

“I’m not scaring her,” Shanks replied easily, then turned to you again with a half-grin. “Am I scaring you?”

“Hehe, no. Not at all. Nice to meet you, Mister Shanks.”

You can’t help but break out into a soft smile as you eye the infamously famous pirate before you. One whose reputation preceded him, but not alongside all the funny stories Makino had shared with you.

“Makino’s mentioned you before to me, too. Along with your crew.”

“Seems I’ll have to bring out the best barrels if her favorite customers are back in town.”

At that, Shanks’ grin widened—not the smug kind pirates wore when they won a fight, but the kind that slipped out when someone genuinely caught them off guard. He let out a low, appreciative laugh, and his eyes—deep and sharp, but warm—crinkled slightly at the corners.

“Well now,” he said, resting his elbow on the counter as he leaned a little closer, “if that’s your version of a welcome, I might have to start showing up more often.”

Beckman muttered something under his breath about “he already does,” before heading to his usual seat near the counter.

“Don’t mind him,” Shanks said with a wink. “He just doesn’t like when someone else gets a better smile than he does.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but to your surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant. It was… fluttery. The good kind. The dangerous kind.

You turned slightly, trying to busy your hands as you reached for the drink menu and pulled out the reserve ledger Makino kept for special requests.

“If I remember right, you prefer the—ah, twelve-year aged rum? With a splash of lime?”

He blinked, a little impressed. “So she really talked about us, huh?”

“She said if you didn’t show up with a barrel of trouble, you showed up asking for her best,” you said shyly, before your eyes flicked up. “I was told to keep an eye on the charming ones.”

“Charming?” Shanks echoed, the smile in his voice unmistakable now. “I hope you listened.”

Before you could answer, one of the younger pirates called out to you from a table, asking for a round. You nodded quickly and excused yourself, turning away to grab mugs from the shelves—but you could still feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your back.

As Shanks took his place near Beckman at the counter, they both settled into a comfortable space.

“New hire’s easy on the eyes, huh?”

Shanks didn’t answer at first. Instead, he watched you for a bit.

He watched you from the corner of his eye—how you laughed softly when one of the younger ones tried to flirt for an extra pour, how you steadied the tray with a careful hand, how your brows furrowed slightly when you thought no one was looking, double-checking the drink order on your notepad like you didn’t want to mess up.

There was a quiet care in your movements. Nothing flashy. Just… thoughtful.

“…Yeah,” he said at last, voice low and laced with something Beckman hadn’t heard from him in a while. “Easy on the eyes.”

Then, with a slow exhale, he added under his breath, “Too easy.”

Beckman chuckled, stretching his arms behind his back. “You’re staring, you know.”

“Am not.”

“You are. Like you forgot how to blink.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “I have one arm. You want me to lose that too?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

They both smirked, but Beckman didn’t push further. He knew that look on Shanks’ face well. It wasn’t just interest—it was curiosity. The kind that stuck. The kind that didn’t fade once the drinks ran dry or the ship set sail.

A few seconds later, you returned to the bar with a few empty mugs, your eyes meeting Shanks’ as you offered an amused huff, still a bit winded from running around.

He sat up straighter, gaze gentle.

“Still standing,” he teased. “That’s promising.”

You grin, shaking your head while balancing the mugs in your hands. “Goodness, you all surely know how to drink! Haha! If you’ll excuse me to wash these a second, I’ll be right back to get your orders.”

Shanks watched you disappear behind the swinging door with a quiet, lopsided smile still tugging at his lips. The clinking of glasses and the familiar hum of his crew faded into the background for a moment as he leaned back against the bar, his fingers idly tracing a water ring left behind on the wood.

Beckman eyed him sideways. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?” Shanks asked, far too innocently.

“The look-before-you-leap thing.”

Shanks huffed a small laugh. “I’m not leaping. I’m just… appreciating the service.”

Beckman scoffed. “You don’t smile like that over rum.”

“I do when it’s served with a smile like hers,” he muttered under his breath, almost surprised by his own words.

When you returned, cheeks slightly flushed from the steam rising from the wash basin and fingers damp from drying your hands on your apron, Shanks straightened ever so slightly.

“You alright back there?” he asked. “Didn’t lose any fingers in the sink war, did you?”

You let out a soft laugh as you approached, setting the clean mugs down in front of him. “Still all ten accounted for, Captain.”

He raised his brows. “Oho? Captain?”

“Well… aren’t you?” you asked with a gentle, teasing lilt. “I thought I’d be polite.”

“Careful,” he said, that playful glint returning to his eye. “You call a man ‘Captain’ with a voice like that, and he’s bound to start sailing circles around you.”

Beckman sighed. “Here we go.”

You laughed, covering your mouth just a little, and Shanks swore—for a moment—the room didn’t feel like a bar at all.

It felt like the start of something he wanted to see through.

Amidst the commotion, the sound of two doors opening rang out.

From the back door, Makino walked out, seemingly having just returned from delivering something and picking up groceries on the way.

From the front, another fresh crowd of rowdy, thirsty sailors to serve.

You quickly ran up to her, shooting her a smile while grabbing a good handful of menus.

“Welcome back! I’ll go get the new ones, you go greet old friends.”

Makino blinked at your statement for a second, her eyes sweeping over the crowded bar before landing on the unmistakable silhouette near the counter.

That familiar mess of red hair.

“Shanks,” she said warmly, already moving toward him. “I was wondering when the wind would toss you back my way.”

He turned to greet her, that roguish grin forming with genuine affection. “You really ought to bolt the windows, Makino. I might sneak in even when the doors are locked.”

They shared a hug—brief, but familiar. A silent understanding passed between them, layered with years of history and more unspoken memories than most people would ever collect in a lifetime.

Beckman tipped his head politely. “Makino.”

“Ben,” she returned with a smile. “Still keeping this one from causing too much trouble?”

Beckman gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Depends on the day.”

Behind the bar, you ducked out of their way, moving back into the wave of incoming guests, taking orders with that same soft tone and polite efficiency, weaving through the chaos like a gentle current against a tide. Shanks’s eyes followed you just for a beat—until Makino nudged him lightly with her elbow.

“She’s a good one,” she said quietly, knowingly.

Shanks glanced at her.

“She’s been helping a lot while I’ve been short-staffed. Real sweet. Bit shy.” Makino gave him a dry smile. “Not a fan of loud drunks, so behave.”

“No promises,” he said, though the smile that tugged at his lips said otherwise.

Makino leaned in a little. “She likes people who don’t just look like they’ve got stories, you know. Prefers the ones who live them.”

Shanks gave her a long look, like he wasn’t sure whether to thank her or tease her off.

But Makino was already moving down the bar, greeting familiar faces and returning to the rhythm of her tavern like she never left.

And Shanks—Shanks turned back to his drink, eyes on the rim of his mug, fingers tapping idly, even as his thoughts wandered toward you.

Eventually, the evening turned to dusk amidst the rowdy bar.

Shanks and Beckman engaged in good drinks and warm chatter, alongside Makino who joined them between serving orders.

Suddenly—

CRASH.

The crash echoed through the bar like a pebble dropped into still water. Small, but disruptive.

The chatter dipped for just a second, long enough for every head to turn toward the source of the sound. You were already moving, smile soft and apologetic as you tried to ease the moment.

“No worries,” you said gently, ducking to fetch the broom from behind the bar. “Happens all the time.”

But the snickers that followed weren’t the good-natured kind. One of the rowdier newcomers—a sailor with too much drink and too little self-restraint—elbowed his friend, nodding toward you.

“Clumsy little thing, ain’t she?” he slurred, not nearly quiet enough.

“Shame to waste a glass,” the other muttered. “But I think I’ll be the one to drop ten more if it makes her bend over like that again.”

Their laughter wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Mean-spirited. And it crawled up your spine like ice water.

Shanks had been halfway through a sip when the sound of the crash hit, but it was the following snickers—and the look that passed between the two men—that made him stop mid-sip.

He didn’t move right away.

Didn’t say anything.

He just looked.

And that was worse.

Beckman didn’t need to ask. He saw it in the way Shanks’ jaw flexed slightly, the way his good hand lowered his mug to the table with the kind of silence that warned.

The men kept laughing.

Until they felt it.

That sudden stillness.

Like the shadows themselves began to stare.

Shanks rose from his seat—not fast, not dramatic. Just calm. But in a room like this, calm carried weight. The music faltered. Conversation quieted.

He took a few steps, the wooden floor creaking beneath his feet as he walked up behind the two snickering men. They only realized he was there when the warmth drained from their skin.

Shanks didn’t shout. He didn’t bare teeth or pull a weapon.

He just leaned forward slightly, voice low and steady.

“…Say it again.”

The man froze.

Shanks tilted his head, like he was asking the most casual question in the world.

“I didn’t quite catch it,” he said. “Say it again. About the waitress.”

The second man swallowed hard, his eyes darting to his empty mug like it might protect him.

“I—I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t think,” Shanks corrected. “That’s your problem.”

A pause.

“Mine?” He smiled faintly. “I don’t take kindly to folks like you who make good people feel small.”

Behind the bar, broom in hand, you’d returned just in time to see the two men pale like ghosts—nodding quickly, stumbling over apologies, before practically tripping over themselves to stand and relocate.

Shanks didn’t even watch them leave.

He turned to you instead, and for a heartbeat, all the noise in the room seemed to muffle again.

“You okay?” he asked, voice quieter now. Just for you.

You strained a smile, as reassuring of one as you could muster, as you nodded. “I’m fine, thank you.”

And quietly, “Sorry, heh. Still, um, still getting used to it.”

Shanks studied you after that left your lips.

Not the kind of look meant to make you squirm—but the kind that noticed you.

The way your fingers clutched the broom just a little tighter than they needed to be. The way your smile pulled at the corners but never quite reached your eyes. The way you stood there, trying to laugh it off for everyone else’s sake.

Trying to take up less space than you deserved.

And something in him twisted.

Not in anger—not anymore. That had passed.

This was something else.

You don’t belong in a place like this.

The thought struck him unexpectedly. Not because you were soft-spoken. Not because you were too sweet. But because, maybe, people like you deserved to live in a world that didn’t demand armor to survive it.

Beckman was watching him from his seat again, brow arched, silent as ever.

Shanks cleared his throat, straightened just a little, and let a breath out through his nose.

“Well,” he said softly, slipping his hand into his coat pocket, “you handled it better than most of us would have.”

He took a slow step toward the counter again, then paused—just close enough for you to hear him over the din of the crowd.

“If they bother you again, you let me know. I don’t mind raising the tide.”

There was something in his voice now. Not teasing. Not dramatic.

A promise.

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there in the golden glow of the lantern light, heart a little heavier, and a little warmer too.

Shanks sank back onto his stool with a quiet grumble and the telltale sound of the stool’s wooden legs scooting along the floor. His jaw ticked slightly, still working through the remnants of whatever emotion had taken root in his chest since that encounter. He took a sip from his drink, slower this time.

Beckman said nothing at first—just blew a soft stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth and gave his captain a long, sideways look.

“You gonna sit there and scowl at every man who notices her?”

He didn’t even bother to hide the smirk.

“I’m not scowling,” Shanks muttered.

Beckman hummed. “Then your face is just stuck like that?”

Shanks grunted. “I don’t like that look on her face. Like she’s used to brushing that kind of thing off.”

Beckman didn’t comment, just let the silence say what he knew his captain was already thinking. There were a lot of kinds of strong in the world. The kind that held a sword. And the kind that held a smile, even when people didn’t deserve it.

Before Shanks could brood too much deeper, the two sailors at the next table caught his ear.

“—I’m just sayin’, she’s the nicest person I’ve met in this whole town!”

“She smiled at me, dude. Like, actually looked at me and smiled.”

“She’s gotta have someone, right? Someone like that? No way she doesn’t.”

“I dunno, I heard Makino say she just moved here. Bet she’s single.”

The two chuckled under their breath, casting bashful glances your way as you refilled a table’s water jug, oblivious to the admiration trailing in your wake.

Shanks raised an eyebrow.

Beckman let out a quiet snort. “Looks like you’ve got competition.”

Shanks didn’t say anything at first, swirling the liquid in his mug.

Then, with a faint smirk: “They’d drown before they reached her.”

Beckman gave him a side glance. “You sure you wouldn’t?”

Shanks chuckled under his breath. “I’m already treading water, Ben. Don’t worry.”

He said it like a joke.

But his eyes drifted back to you all the same—watching the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how your face lit up with a laugh you gave to someone else.

And for just a second, that quiet tug returned to his chest.

Damn.

This wasn’t going to be as simple as passing through another port.

#shanks x reader #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #one piece #one piece shanks #shanks x you #shanks x y/n #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #shanks fic #shanks: a new hire #i'm so down bad for this man

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thbbie · 1 day ago

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༄ shanks x reader (based on this ask)

shanks knows you're needy, you love touching him, having him touch you, hearing sweet words and all that. he really doesn't mind, he's the same way after all.

you guys are always huddled close, touching some how. and oh he could be shameless with it sometimes. it's just his nature, why would he be bothered with others when you are all that could ever matter?

so when you get upset with him, and decide to head off to bed early, without him, he knows you just need some space. some time to think, you can't sleep well without him, and he's the same exact way. shanks needs to hold you to feel you always, but especially when he sleeps.

it was something stupid, one of the crew members telling the story of the time shanks complained about clinginess in a partner after an unpleasant encounter with pushy people that wouldn't accept his polite but clear no as an answer. he isn't the type to needlessly start a fight so continued just brushing them off.

that wasn't about you, it wasn't even a thought that crossed his mind when he's with you.

shanks wants more of you, as much as your willing to give him. touch him more, talk to him more, laugh with him more. anything, anything with you.

he follows you back to his cabin a little later, fining you curled on the far side of your bed. you're on his side, holding his pillow close to you, arms and legs wrapped around it tight and your nose buried in its softness.

the red haired man cannot help but smile at that, such a sweet thing you are, cling to his pillow to fall asleep. there's a pang of guilt though that persists, he really doesn't feel that way.

shanks climbs into bed behind you, laying on his side and pulling you in by the waist; you don't need his pillow when you have all of him to yourself.

instictivly you find yourself wanting to turn to face him, to bury your face in his chest and wrap your arms around his waist but you don't. not yet. pushing the need below the surface, you're mad at him right now.

the smell of him envelops you, salty from sweat and sea, and somehow, so incredibly reminiscent of home. your home. shanks.

he presses kisses to your body, whatever he could reach from the awkward angle; your hair, the tip of your ear, the back of your neck, that sensitive spot near the base of your jaw — he was successful in getting your attention at least. scratchy stubble tickling you with every brush against your skin

you turn in his arm, maneuvering your position from face if away to facing him directly. your brows knit and voice firm, "i'm still upset with you,"

"mmmhm i figured." voice low, heavy and heavy, his hand roaming your body, applying gentle pressure " but you can't sleep like that. your tense, if you sleep now you'll hardly feel rested when you wake" his voice is smooth, brown eyes soft and dilated.

"turn around for me. yea- theree you go" "shut up" but you do it anyway, embarrassed by the way he's speaking but still you listen, turning in his hold so your back is facing his chest once again.

"let me help you relax. do you get the most of your sleep" he hooks your leg over his hip when you're situated comfortably against him.

shanks pulls your shorts aside, fingering the little twitchy nub between your legs, stroking you where he knows youre sensitive slowly turning you breathless. he just watches you, with so much fondness he watches you melt away under his tender touch.

he slips a finger into you, dragging slowly along your walls, his touch is so spft it feels teasing, he keeps it up until you begin bucking into his hand. grinding your hips into his hand and pushing yourself closer to him, chasing your pleasure.

you need more. "s-shanks. stop teasing i- ahhh~"

pulling his finger out of you, sliding his tip against your entrance, still gentle still teasing. he doesn't push in until your hands grasp at his forearms nails digging into his tanned skin with a shaky pleading cry of his name. that's what he wanted so he'll give you what you want.

he slips into you, inching in slowly till his hips are flush against yours. he lets out a deep groan when he does, feeling you gripping him so tight, shushing your quiet slurred " 'ts too much" pressing sweet kisses to your hair, his hand comes up to play with your puffy nipple.

twisting and turning the little hardened peaks between his rough fingers while you adjust to accommodating his full length.

he starts to thrust slow, the sweet words from his lips don't cease, your head feels fuzzy ands you're so warm. so comfortable and blissful in his hold.

the pace he sets is still slow, rocking you to sleep with his body, lulling you with his low groans and endless praise. shanks still plays with your puffy nipples, but he stops when he feels the stimulation gets distracting.

you're tired, he knows. he wants nothing more than your rest, so instead is warm hand moves to your belly; pressing into your softness with a comfortable weight while rubbing soothing circles into the skin.

"i love you you know"

he stops the moment of his hand and pauses mid-grind when you don't reply, "[name]?"

"mmm~"

shanks peaks over your shoulder at your face; asleep. your brows are no longer tugged close together and your lips aren't curled in a frown, a soft serene expression on your resting face instead.

"heh, sleep well, sweet thing."

he watches you for a little longer, still buried to the hilt inside you and looking all to pleased with himself, though the feeling of pride is dwarfed by the fondness he feels looking at you in such peacefulness.

he kisses your temple softly and watches the methodical rise and fall of your back until his own eyes turn heavy with sleep, weighing down until he can longer stop it from taking him away.

his last thought is a quiet prayer to who knows who that he'll get to see you in his dreams too.

zoro ver. law ver

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kleftiko · 2 months ago

Text

just think of getting mad at tall men.

those who tower over you easily with their height, so naturally intimidating to those around them. able to pick you up with one arm like a small child and make you feel small and insignificant in their presence no matter your own size.

who really shouldn't be scared when you're screaming their ears off. in fact, it should be cute when your finger is pointing up at them, small frame trying to intimidate him as you scold them.

but when your neck starts to ache looking up at them, and you tell them to "sit the fuck down!"

they do it.

CORAZON, shanks, katakuri (op) kageyama, ushijima (hy) aizawa, fatgum (mha)

#one piece x reader #one piece fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #mha x reader #mha fluff #corazon x reader #shanks x reader #katakuri x reader #kageyama x reader #ushijima x reader #aizawa x reader #fatgum x reader

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hummingbird24220 · 1 day ago

Note

please plsplspslpslps shanks x reader where shanks saves reader from drowning because they're a devil fruit user (idk what fruit tho) and was thrown overboard by some pirate shanks had come across that had the gall to attack him

also idk when this is maybe when he still had both his arms or just sent benn to pull reader out of the sea

daddy shanks 🛐🛐

Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long <3 Hope you like it

He has both arms in this just FYI ^^ Kinda a rollercoaster, bit random and convenient for plot sake, but hey ho its fanfic.

A Hand Through the Waves

Shanks x Reader

The sea didn’t care that you were screaming.

It was too loud. Too heavy. Too cold. Your voice didn’t even reach the surface — it was swallowed by the swell and crushed under the weight of the Grand Line’s cruel embrace. You thrashed in vain, your limbs sluggish and clumsy, every movement dragging you deeper. A Devil Fruit user with a bounty high enough to warrant attention — but clearly not enough to earn respect.

You didn’t see who pushed you.

The crew that ambushed you was small, cocky, and stupid enough to try and pick a fight with Red-Haired Shanks. You happened to be at the wrong port at the wrong time — or maybe the right one, you’d later wonder.

Because the moment your vision began to blacken, a ripple tore through the sea.

And then there was fire in the water. Not literal fire — but something burning bright, cutting through the blue like a sword. A splash above. A hand. Large, calloused, warm despite the water. You couldn’t see his face — just red hair, wild and waving like a flag.

Then the world twisted, and air hit your lungs again like an explosion.

You gasped, coughing seawater onto the deck of a ship that wasn’t yours. The wood beneath you was warm. The voices around you were muffled. And one, clearer than the rest, laughed low and easy.

“Well, that was dramatic.”

You looked up, dazed. Shanks.

Red hair slicked back from diving in. Shirt soaked, clinging to his chest. One hand holding a half-empty bottle, the other holding you steady by the shoulder.

“Next time someone throws you off a ship,” he said, “aim for somewhere less deep.”

You blinked. “You—why would you—”

“Save you?” He grinned. “Couldn’t just let a Devil Fruit user drown in front of me. It’s bad manners.”

You tried to push yourself up, but your arms trembled. He immediately dropped the bottle and helped you sit, more careful than you expected from a pirate so feared.

“Besides,” he added, brushing a soaked strand of hair from your face, “I liked your glare when they dragged you across the dock. That’s the look of someone who doesn’t go down easy.”

“I would’ve… gotten out,” you wheezed.

He smirked. “Sure. Eventually. I just sped things up a little.”

You were quiet for a second, staring at him. “Why were you even there?”

Shanks leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow. “Coincidence. Or fate, depending how poetic you are. Either way—” his grin returned, easy and warm, “—I’m glad I was.”

A beat of silence.

“…I owe you,” you muttered.

“No, you don’t.” He tilted his head. “But if you insist on repaying me…”

You braced for a smug flirt.

“…you can share a drink.”

You stared.

He raised the bottle in offering — then looked at it, frowned, and chuckled. “Ah, sea water. Guess we’ll need a fresh one.”

You surprised yourself with a breathy laugh.

Shanks helped you to your feet. His grip never faltered. His crew gave you space, friendly enough to not overwhelm you but curious enough to watch. You stood beside him on the deck, shivering from the cold but steady.

He draped his cloak over your shoulders without a word.

“Let’s get you dry, yeah?” he said, voice low. “And then… you can tell me how someone like you ended up in that mess.”

The clothes were soft. Loose. A bit too big.

You didn’t know whose they were — someone from Shanks’ crew, probably — but they smelled faintly of salt, citrus, and something warm. You sat tucked into a corner of the captain’s quarters, wrapped in his heavy cloak, both hands curled around a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Not rum. Not sake. Cocoa.

You didn’t expect pirates to stock it, let alone serve it in chipped, homey mugs like it was just another Tuesday.

Shanks sat opposite you, sprawled out in a chair with one leg hooked over the other, a faint grin tugging at his mouth every time your nose dipped toward the cup.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered.

“I’m not,” he said, still very clearly staring. “You just look different when you’re not soaking wet and furious.”

“I wasn’t furious.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, I was a little furious.”

“You cursed at them in three different languages.”

“And I meant every word.”

Shanks laughed — a full, belly-deep sound that filled the room like sunlight. You looked away, ears hot despite the chill still clinging to your skin.

He didn’t press. Just let the silence settle. The room creaked with the gentle rock of the ship. Somewhere outside, his crew laughed and shouted over something completely unrelated. For a moment, you felt like you were sitting in a little pocket of peace.

“So,” he said, voice quieter, “you wanna tell me who those bastards were?”

You sipped your drink. “Low-level pirates. Cocky. I didn’t recognize their flag.”

“And they still had the guts to throw you overboard?”

“They knew I couldn’t swim.” Your tone sharpened slightly. “The moment they figured it out, they used it.”

Shanks’ smile dimmed. His one visible hand clenched slightly.

“They’ll regret that,” he said simply. No threat in his voice. Just truth.

You believed him.

He watched you for a moment more, then reached into his coat pocket and tossed something your way. You caught it on instinct — a small, carved wooden token.

“What’s this?”

“A charm,” he said. “For good luck.”

“…Do I look like I need luck?”

“No. You look like someone who deserves a second chance.”

You stared at him, confused. His expression was unreadable now — steady, thoughtful. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees.

“You’ve got that edge to you,” he said. “Like someone who’s been through a lot and doesn’t trust kindness when it shows up.”

You didn’t answer.

He smiled anyway. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Alive. And welcome to stay until you figure out what’s next.”

“…You’re offering me shelter?”

“I’m offering you cocoa, warm clothes, and a damn good crew to lean on if you need it. The rest is up to you.”

You looked down at the token again. It was warm from your grip.

“…Thanks,” you muttered.

He stood up, brushing crumbs from his sleeve. “You can rest here as long as you want. There’s food in the mess if you get hungry.”

As he turned to leave, you glanced up. “Shanks?”

He paused in the doorway.

“I didn’t say thank you. For saving me.”

He looked over his shoulder with a grin that could disarm a navy fleet. “You’re welcome. Just try not to fall in again — I can’t keep jumping into the ocean every time someone picks on you.”

You huffed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He winked — then was gone, leaving you alone in the warmth, the sea humming just outside the walls.

You didn’t stay forever.

As comforting as Shanks’ ship was — as warm as the crew, the cocoa, and the laughter had become — you weren’t meant to be tethered for long. The sea called to you in a different way. One day, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you handed Shanks back his cloak and stepped off the Red Force with a nod and a promise.

"Don't go getting thrown overboard again," he had teased. You had grinned. "Only if you promise to be the one to save me."

You had walked away before he could respond.

Years passed. You made a name for yourself, slowly but surely. Smaller adventures. Quieter ones. You stuck to the edges of chaos, learning from the currents instead of fighting them. Still, every so often, you’d catch wind of Red-Haired Shanks — his name whispered with awe, in taverns and bounty posters, drifting like seagulls on the wind.

You never asked. Never wrote.

But you always listened.

You didn’t expect the push.

It came sharp and sudden, a shove from a group of rowdy, half-drunk pirates you’d brushed shoulders with at the port. You cursed your balance, cursed your timing — cursed the damned Devil Fruit as your body hit the water with a splash and everything turned to cold, cruel silence.

Just like before.

But this time, you didn’t see fire. You saw green.

A blur cut through the surface — a strong arm hooked under yours, and suddenly you were rising fast, coughing and gasping as the sun stabbed through your eyelids. You hit the dock hard, sputtering on your hands and knees.

"You alright?"

The voice was low. Calm.

You blinked past the water in your eyes and looked up — and saw it.

That hat.

Straw-brimmed. Familiar. Beloved. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as your voice broke through the panic.

“...Shanks?”

There was a pause. Then a laugh — not deep and mellow like his, but bright, high, and joyful.

“Shanks?! That’s a first!”

You blinked harder, the haze lifting. The outline shifted, the figure sharper now — not tall and broad-shouldered with red hair, but younger. Much younger. Barefoot and wide-eyed, with a smile that looked like it had never known a day of fear.

You sat up with a shaky exhale, as the green-haired man who’d saved you stepped aside, eyeing you cautiously.

“Oi, don’t scare her,” he muttered to the boy.

The boy — the one with the hat — squatted beside you, head tilted.

“I’m Luffy,” he beamed. “You know Shanks?”

You stared. Then laughed softly, the sound cracking like a wave against the rocks. “I… I used to.”

He leaned in, almost buzzing with excitement. “He gave me this hat! He saved my life! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

You blinked again, heart twisting strangely at the fierce certainty in his voice. There was no fear. No hesitation. Just fire.

Something about him — the glint in his eyes, the way he talked about Shanks, the way he reached out with a hand to help you up without a second thought — tugged deep in your chest.

Like you’d seen him before, in a dream. Or maybe a story Shanks had once told over a drink.

You took his hand.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you said softly. “You saved me.”

He grinned wider. “Zoro did the saving.”

You glanced at the swordsman — soaked up to his thighs, arms crossed. “Thank you too, Zoro.”

He nodded once. “Don’t mention it.”

“You’re lucky,” Luffy added. “You fell in near our ship. If it was further out, we might not’ve seen you.”

You stared at him a moment more. “You remind me of him.”

“Shanks?”

You nodded. “Not just the hat. The heart.”

He looked stunned for a second. Then grinned again, impossibly brighter.

And just like that — without meaning to — something settled inside you.

A sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“…Do you guys have a ship?”

“Oh yeah! We’re the Straw Hat Pirates!”

You smiled, brushing damp hair from your face. “That’s… a very fitting name.”

Zoro squinted. “Why are you smiling like that?”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Luffy bounce on the balls of his feet, already asking if you wanted food, if you could fight, if you wanted to meet the rest of the crew.

And you? You were already following him.

Because even if your path had drifted far from Shanks, somehow, you’d found someone carrying his light.

By the time you made it onto their ship — the Thousand Sunny, they proudly told you — your hair had dried, your clothes hadn’t, and your heart hadn’t slowed since that moment you saw the hat.

The Straw Hats welcomed you with open arms… and varying energy levels.

Nami looked you up and down and immediately got you a towel and spare clothes. Sanji offered warm tea and sparkled like a chandelier when you thanked him. Usopp stood behind Luffy, peeking nervously until you smiled at him. Chopper buzzed around you like a doctor on caffeine. Robin observed, polite and unreadable, but kind. Franky shouted something about “HELL YEAH! SEA-PLUCKED FRIEND!” Brook made a skull joke. You politely pretended to laugh.

Zoro, already back in dry clothes and leaning against the rail, just nodded like you weren’t a big deal.

You liked that. It reminded you of Shanks’ crew — strong, strange, loud, loyal.

And then came dinner.

The galley was alive with the clatter of plates, the smell of food, and laughter. You sat at the table, now warm in borrowed clothes, sipping soup while Luffy devoured enough for three people beside you.

“I still can’t believe you know Shanks!” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled. “I met him a long time ago. After I got tossed off a ship and nearly drowned.”

The table quieted.

“…Wait,” Luffy said slowly, looking at you like you’d just grown another head. “You too?!”

You nodded, amused. “I was thrown overboard by some pirates. Couldn’t swim. Next thing I know, he’s diving in after me. Pulled me out like it was nothing.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “That’s what he did for me!! When the bandits tried to drown me as a kid! He didn’t even hesitate—he just jumped in! Lost his arm and still smiled at me.”

Your smile faltered slightly, surprise flickering in your chest. “He… lost his arm?”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned. “Saved me from a Sea King. I was little. Thought I was a goner.”

You stared at him — this bright, ridiculous boy who burned with so much of Shanks’ same chaotic kindness — and felt something strange twist in your stomach.

“Guess he has a habit of saving waterlogged idiots,” you murmured.

Luffy laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

The crew relaxed again, picking their own conversations back up. But Luffy stayed turned toward you, grinning like a kid at storytime.

“So then what?” he asked. “Did you sail with him?”

“For a while,” you said, swirling your soup. “His crew is good people. They let me heal a bit. Then I left. Didn’t want to be a permanent passenger.”

“That’s dumb,” Luffy said cheerfully. “You could’ve stayed forever.”

You gave him a look. “You didn’t stay with him either.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be King of the Pirates! I had stuff to do!”

You laughed softly, eyes fond.

He grinned back at you. “So do you think meeting me was good luck or bad luck?”

You paused.

“…Honestly?” you said. “I don’t know. It feels like the universe is laughing at me a little. Same Devil Fruit curse. Same hat. Same stupid smile.”

“Hey!”

You gave him a small nudge with your elbow. “Better teeth, though.”

“HA!” he barked, not remotely offended.

You looked around at the crew, warm and bright and loud — and felt something soft settle in your chest.

You weren’t drowning anymore.

And maybe fate did have a weird sense of humor. But this time, you were willing to see where the current led.

You’d never been good at staying in one place.

The sea had always pulled at your bones like a tide you couldn’t fight — never violent, just constant. No matter how warm the company, how sweet the food, or how loud the laughter, you felt it again: the urge to move.

So you made up your mind.

You told them the next morning.

They didn’t argue.

Nami hugged you tight. Chopper clung to your leg. Sanji swore dramatically that he’d cry for weeks. Zoro gave a low grunt that meant more than it sounded. Franky gave you an exit speech. Usopp pretended not to tear up. Robin smiled like she knew you were lying to yourself about not looking back. Brook played a few sad violin notes.

Luffy just stared at you like a kicked puppy.

“I’ll come back,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“You better,” he pouted. “Or I’ll find you and throw you into the sea again.”

You laughed, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of his straw hat.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He grinned. “You’re right. Zoro would have to save you again.”

“Hell no,” Zoro muttered from behind him.

You hugged them all one last time — all warmth and gratitude and just a little bit of ache — then stepped off the Sunny with the world ahead of you and your bag over your shoulder.

The dock was quiet.

The breeze curled around your ankles, carrying the scent of the sea and something else — something familiar.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until your body froze entirely.

Because there — like he’d been plucked out of memory and dropped into your line of sight with all the grace of a cosmic joke — stood a man.

A man with one arm, a sword at his hip, and a head of unmistakable red hair.

You blinked.

And blinked again.

"...Plot convenience powers," you mumbled. "That's the only explanation."

He looked up.

And smiled.

Like he’d known you were coming. Like not a single day had passed.

“Been a while,” Shanks said, voice as low and bright as you remembered.

You stared at him like your brain had short-circuited.

“I—what—how—?”

“Nice to see you too.” He strode forward casually, boots echoing against the dock. “You look good. Bit salty. That’s new.”

You gawked. “You can’t just appear. I just left them. They’re still within earshot!”

He tilted his head. “Them?”

“The Straw Hats!”

His eyes sparked with understanding. “Ah. The Straw Hat.”

“His name is Luffy—oh you know that, don’t play dumb!”

He laughed.

And you stood there, still stunned, still trying to figure out if this was a hallucination brought on by too much nostalgia and soup.

“You didn’t write,” he said softly. “Not once.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I don’t know how.”

“…Fair.”

There was a pause — not tense, just heavy. Full of too many years and too much almost.

“I missed you,” he said, easy as breathing.

You exhaled like you’d been underwater all over again. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“And yet,” he smirked, “here we are.”

You looked at him. At the way his eyes softened. At the familiar cut of his coat. At the wind catching his hair the same way it did in your memories.

“Don’t say this was fate,” you warned, voice weak.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he said, stepping closer. “I was gonna say it was bad luck. Like always.”

That made you laugh. A little broken, but real.

“I was leaving.”

“I can see that.”

“…Should I stay?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because your feet moved before your brain did — and when he opened his arms, you were already there.

Right back where you’d started.

But different.

You were mid-embrace, forehead against Shanks’ collarbone, when you heard it.

“SHAAAAANKS!!!”

Your head whipped around just in time to see a human blur launching itself from the deck of the Thousand Sunny.

“No—wait—” you began, stepping back.

But it was too late.

Luffy hit Shanks like a cannonball. Arms and legs wrapping around him like a sea-wet koala, hat askew, laughing so hard he was nearly sobbing.

“I KNEW IT WAS YOU!!” he yelled, hugging him tighter. “I saw the hair! I KNEW IT!”

Shanks staggered slightly, laughing and patting him on the back. “You're louder than ever, huh?”

“You’re real! You’re actually real! You’re here and she’s here and wait—” Luffy suddenly twisted mid-cling, his wide eyes locking on you with way too much suspicion for someone currently attached to another human being like a backpack. “—Are you Shanks’ WIFE?!”

You spluttered. “What?!”

Shanks snorted.

“NO!” he laughed. “But…” He tilted his head toward you and gave the world’s most irresponsible, charming wink. “She’s the woman I told you about when you were a kid.”

Luffy froze. Eyes wide. Brain shaking hands with a long-forgotten memory.

“The—THE ONE WHO PUNCHED A SEA KING?!”

You blinked. “I didn’t punch a Sea King, I hit a Sea King. With a cannon.”

“THE ONE WHO TOOK ON A WHOLE FLEET ALONE?!”

“That was mostly an accident,” you muttered.

“THE ONE WHO CALLED YOU A ‘FLAMING-GINGER DRAMA PRINCE?!’”

Shanks grinned. “That part is true.”

You slapped a hand over your face. “You told him that story?!”

“He was crying!” Shanks defended. “I had to cheer him up! You were my most hilarious near-death experience!”

Luffy was vibrating.

“You’re so COOL,” he whispered to you like he was five years old again. “You were in a story. A real-life Shanks story.”

You groaned and turned away. “I swear, if he told you about the octopus incident—”

“He did,” Shanks beamed.

“And the blown-up bathhouse?!”

“Oh, that one’s his favorite,” he said, ruffling Luffy’s hair. “He’s been telling that one to his crew for years.”

You turned slowly, eyes narrow. “I am going to drown you.”

“You tried that once,” Shanks grinned. “Didn’t take.”

Luffy was cackling.

The three of you stood there in the sunlight — you fuming, Shanks glowing, Luffy clinging like a starfish — as the Straw Hat crew began cautiously wandering over from the ship.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “I take it this is the red-haired menace?”

“Yup,” you muttered.

Nami blinked. “You know Shanks?!”

“She knows him very well,” Luffy grinned, still latched onto his old mentor.

Shanks tilted his head toward you again. “She’s trouble,” he said proudly.

“And you love it,” you grumbled.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I really do.”

You sighed, rubbed your face, and turned to Luffy, who finally slid off Shanks and landed back on the dock.

“…You gonna be okay heading out soon?”

Luffy nodded, still smiling wide. “Course! You staying with him?”

You hesitated. Looked at Shanks. Then at the crew behind Luffy.

“…For now.”

He beamed.

“Good,” he said, “'cause if you don’t stay for dinner and at least one round of storytime, Sanji’ll cry and Zoro’ll say he won’t care but he will.”

Shanks chuckled. “I like this crew.”

You smiled. “They’re family.”

He glanced at you. “Then I’m glad they had you. Even for a little while.”

You didn’t answer.

But as you walked back with them toward the ship — Shanks beside you, Luffy dragging both your hands in his — it hit you like a wave:

You weren’t a wanderer anymore.

You were just… waiting to come full circle.

#x reader #one piece #reader insert #luffy #sanji #nami #nico robin #tony tony chopper #usopp #shanks #red haired shanks #request #shanks x reader

72 notes · View notes

inseobts · 5 days ago

Text

Captain

characters: luffy, law, shanks, kid and ace

inspired by: 'Captain' - Kang Seungyoon || spotify || youtube || apple music

a/n: hope this doesn't suck tbh

words count: around 1.0k - 1.5k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Luffy:

The sun is hot on your back as you lean over the Sunny’s railing. Waves crash below, sparkling like tiny stars in the ocean.

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it” and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you��re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

“…Don’t start.”

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ryiju-muunie · 6 months ago

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Your boyfriend who sleepily fondled your naked body as you both napped together on your bed, letting calloused fingers drag along skin. Who pulled his erection out of his pants to drag his head along your ass, pressing against your warmth to satiate his heat.

He was so lust drunk off your scent it was hard to grasp what he was doing until the pleasure started. Hips grinding against your behind, fingers gripping into your stomach, and legs entangling upon legs. It felt so good how you squirmed underneath him, none the wiser.

His calloused fingers dipped into your wetness, to play along your clit as your mouth opened. It felt so good right? As he ground his erection into your ass and whimpered, “F-Fuck.. you feel so good..”

Your boyfriend spread you apart and slowly let one digit get sucked into your cunt, rubbing against your walls until it hit that perfect spot. Again he abused it, getting closer to his high and pulling one orgasm out of your sleeping body. You whined and bucked your hips as you came, releasing your fluids onto his palm.

“Good girl… that’s it..” He’d coo, pulling his hand back to lick his fingers from your juices as his orgasm started to build. It was slow before it got intense, blinding him with white hot pleasure. He bucked his hips and for a second he was sure he woke you when his spend squirted all along your back. But he was pleasantly surprised to hear you stir and snore softly, drifting back to sleep.

Your boyfriend who’d deny the claims he fucked you senseless while you slept, even though the evidence was stuck to your back.

Strawpage | Bluesky

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tokoyamisstuff · 2 years ago

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#buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #one piece #buggy #shanks #mihawk #self insert #shitpost #alignment #opla

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dollbrbie · 1 day ago

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thinking about men who can see how unbelievably tired and overworked you are - feeling awful for their poor, burnt out girlfriend and just want to help you feel better.

it’s when you can’t help but complain about how physically and mentally tired you are with work, feeling so sexually frustrated because you haven’t even had the time to let your boyfriend fuck you. and trust me, he’s not been happy about it either.

so, he coaxes you into letting him take care of you for the night, running you a hot bath and making some of your favourite snacks. he’ll even give you a massage, rubbing those tight knots of yours and littering gentle kisses along your neck whilst whispering sweet praises that make you feel so much better.

but he doesn’t stop there - he doesn’t forget about your sexual frustration, or his own. he gently pushes you on your back, the soft pillows catching you as you let out a quiet gasp, surprised by your boyfriends sudden actions.

“just let me take care of my girl, yeah?”, he mutters before gently removing your bath robe, kissing along your bare skin and making sure there’s no part of you left untouched.

you felt like a virgin with the way your pussy throbs at his touches alone, so desperate for the pleasure you hadn’t felt in weeks. and he sees this, he knows how much you want it. his digits make way to your needy clit, rubbing tight circles while he watches the way your back arches. it felt so intense, especially when the feeling had become so foreign.

he chuckles at the way you moan and arch, placing a gentle kiss on the lips of your glossy pussy, “think she’s missed me.”

you whine in response. you’re definitely not denying it.

his tongue gets to work, licking and teasing along your folds as he looks up at you with heavy lids. that damn smirk he had when he saw exactly what he was doing to you was infuriating.

but you were in no position to complain, not when his tongue and fingers cause your head to be left empty of thoughts with the pleasure that overtakes your body. you could already feel your peak building up, your body writhing and your brows furrowing.

it’s so unexpected, the sudden release of your climax that causes your hips to buck and a loud moan to escape your lips. you don’t think you’ve ever came that quickly before, feeling your stress replaced with the come down of your high.

you take a look at your boyfriend, you slick covering his face and a pretty smirk plastered on his lips, “you feel better, baby?”

you nod with a breath, your eyes heavy as you watch your boyfriend crawl on top of you before kissing you parted lips and making you to taste yourself.

“good.”, he hums.

yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, seishiro nagi, sae itoshi, oliver aiku, michael kaiser, ryusei shidou, satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, ryomen sukuna, levi ackerman, eren yeager, porco galliard, tengen uzui, sanemi shinazugawa, muzan kibutsuji, akaza, katsuki bakugo, shouta aizawa, hawks, dabi, monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, shanks & any of your faves

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otkuhotgirl · 8 months ago

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─────── 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 !

# featuring one piece.

behold, my master(one)piece — got it? check out my kinktober schedule for the incoming month!

⎰ & containing PWP. NSFW at its finest. DARK CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏 — breast worship | praise kink | lactation with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐 — cock worship | deepthroating with roronoa zoro.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑 — medical play | glove kink with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒 — food play | overstimulation | cunnilingus with monkey d. luffy.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓 — temperature play with portgas d. ace.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔 — dacryphilia | orgasm denial with eustass kid.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕 — lingerie | mirror sex | body worship with nico robin.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 — prompts for requests!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟖 — threesome | sensation play with black-leg sanji & roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟗 — tights | begging | boot worship with smoker!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎 — strip-tease | lap dance with akagami no shanks!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟏 — choking | hate sex with trafalgar water d. law!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐 — corruption | aphrodisiacs | edging with roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟑 — zelophilia | humiliation with donquixote doflamingo!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟒 — breeding kink | cockwarming with eustass kid!

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟐 — pegging | strap-on with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟑 — shibari | power imbalance with donquixote doflamingo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟒 — period sex | blood-play with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟓 — marking | shotgunning with sir. crocodile.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟔 — office sex | almost getting caught with smoker.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟕 — public | dry-humping | finger-sucking with flame emperor sabo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟖 — sea-sex | mermaid with akagami no shanks.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟗 — size kink | creampie | first time with charlotte katakuri.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟎 — threesome | squirting | fingering | sixty-nine with nico robin & nami.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟏 — WILDCARD!

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wispitty · 8 days ago

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(short reacts) | "he confronts you after a spicy dream" + one piece men

summary: you left on a mission for a few days. but you haunted his dreams each and every night. moaning his name, begging for him. now you're back. and he can't take it anymore.

characters: crocodile, mihawk, marco, ace, shanks, law, corazon

• ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ •

CROCODILE

The office is dark when you step in.

The only light? The glow of a cigar. And a man in a chair, surrounded by smoke and silence—eyes locked on you.

“You’re late.”

You blink.

“What? I came as soon as I got ba—”

“Not tonight.”

His voice is low. Rough.

“Two nights ago.”

He stands.

You barely get out a breath before he’s in front of you.

Back hits the door. His real hand catches your chin. Tilts your face up.

You inhale.

His scent is overwhelming—smoke, spice, and something darker.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” he murmurs.

You shiver.

“I—”

“You think I didn’t feel you in those dreams you left me?”

His lips brush your jaw. Not a kiss. A threat.

“You said my name like it was the only word you knew.”

His hook rests cold at your hip, grounding you as his hand slides down your side.

“Begged me to touch you. Open you.”

“I—I don’t remember—”

“Then let me remind you.”

He kisses you.

Not soft. Not tentative.

Devouring.

You gasp. He groans—like he’s been starving and just tasted salvation.

“You haunted me.”

“Crocodile—”

“Say it like that again and I’ll bend you over this desk until there’s nothing left.”

You whimper.

“That’s the sound.”

He nips your collarbone. Hard enough to mark.

His hand drags down. Under your shirt. Fingers grazing your skin, slow and possessive.

“You sure you don’t remember the dreams?” he whispers, lips brushing yours.

You shake your head. Barely.

“Then maybe I should show you everything you begged me for.”

And this time?

He doesn’t stop.

MIHAWK

You return late, without a word. Just how you left.

Boots click softly through the marble halls of the castle-like manor. The candles are dim. The place is quiet.

You round a corner.

He’s there.

Leaning against the wall. Cloak heavy around his shoulders. Eyes gleaming under low light. Watching you like he knew the exact moment you stepped foot on the property.

You blink.

“...Mihawk?”

He says nothing.

Pushes off the wall.

Walks toward you—purposeful. Silent.

Something in your chest tightens.

You take a step back—

He’s faster.

His hand slams the wall beside your head. You flinch—your spine hits stone.

He leans in. So close your noses nearly brush.

“You’ve been gone. Too long.”

His voice is low. Rougher than usual.

“I—I had something I needed to—”

“And every night since...”

His hand trails down your side. Grips your hip.

“You came to me in my sleep. Whispering my name. Writhing beneath me.”

You freeze. Lips parting.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

His other hand catches your jaw, fingers tilting your face up.

“You think I believe that?”

His eyes lock to your lips. And for a moment—he hesitates.

But you’re looking up at him like you want him to break.

And that’s all it takes.

He crushes his mouth to yours.

Hard. Heated. Deep. It’s not gentle. It’s not slow.

It’s possessive.

His lips bruise. His tongue leaves no space between you. His hand on your waist tugs you tight into him.

Your gasp gets swallowed.

He presses you to the wall like he’s trying to anchor himself there.

“You cast quite the little spell on me.”

“Mihawk—”

“Say my name like that again and I’ll ruin your throat.”

You moan softly into his mouth.

He groans.

Your legs go weak. He notices.

And he loves it.

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again.”

You nod, dazed.

He kisses you again. Slower. But no less deep.

This time, it’s not about frustration.

This time, it’s about need.

MARCO

You return to the medbay late, expecting a quiet reunion. You’re humming. Tired. Just hoping to get off your feet.

But the moment the door shuts behind you—

“Oi.”

His voice is low. Hoarse.

You turn.

He’s standing near the supply shelf. Lab coat undone. Sleeves rolled. Hair messy like he’s run his hands through it too many times.

And his eyes? Locked on you.

“...Marco?”

He doesn’t say a word.

Just strides toward you, slowly, like a lion pacing down from its throne.

You barely open your mouth—

SLAM.

Your back hits the cabinet. A low gasp escapes you.

His hand settles against the wood beside your head. The other curls around your waist, pulling you in tight—flush to his chest.

You can feel it.

His heat. His tension. His arousal.

“You really didn’t know what you were doing, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked.

“W-What do you mean—?”

He chuckles darkly. Nudges your nose with his.

“Four nights, baby.”

“Marco—”

“Four nights of you on top of me. In my head. Moaning my name like I was the only thing keeping you alive.”

You blink. Breathless.

“I—I didn’t know I—”

His lips crash into yours.

It’s deep. Wet. Desperate.

His fingers slide under your shirt, ghosting over bare skin. His knee slips between your legs, pinning you harder to the cabinet.

Your body arches into his without thinking.

“I woke up aching for you every damn morning, yoi.”

Another kiss. This one filthier. Your gasp draws his tongue in deeper.

“I thought it would stop when I saw you again…”

He growls against your mouth.

“But now I want you worse.”

You whimper.

His hand tangles in your hair.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Your lips meet his again with fire.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispers.

And this time, when he kisses you—

He kisses you like he’s never letting you leave again.

ACE

You come back from your assignment around sunset.

Your boots echo down the corridor as you head to the deck of the Moby Dick.

He’s sitting on the railing just outside the kitchen, watching the waves, posture relaxed.

But when he hears you?

He turns his head— And his whole body stills.

You smile.

“Hey, straaanger. Missed me?”

His lips twitch.

“You have no idea.”

You walk closer, thinking nothing of it. He stands as you pass.

“Phew, long trip! I brought snacks, though. Figured you'd be—”

He grabs your wrist.

You blink up at him.

“Ace?”

His expression is unreadable. A soft frown. Something burning low behind his eyes.

“You were in my dreams.”

Your breath catches.

“I was? Awwww, how cute—”

He glares. Steps closer. You're almost touching.

“Not just once.”

You shift, your back brushing the wall behind you. You don’t realize it until it’s too late.

“For three nights.”

He places a hand against the wall beside your head.

“Kept thinking it’d stop.”

He chuckles. Dry. Not amused.

“But it didn’t.”

His eyes lower to your mouth.

“You had your hands all over me. Said my name like it actually meant something for once.”

You try to respond, but your breath betrays you.

He leans in.

“It felt real. Too real.”

His voice drops, low and steady.

“Woke up sweating. Frustrated. Missing you.”

Your back hits the wall completely as his hand slides to your waist.

“And now you’re here…”

“—Right here in front of me.”

He kisses you.

Slow. Deep. Hot.

A kiss that knows exactly what it wants.

You gasp into it. His hand on your waist tightens. His body presses into yours just enough to make your knees shake.

When he pulls back, his voice is husky and the air is scorched.

“Did you mean it?”

You swallow.

“...What?”

He brushes your hair behind your ear.

“The way you touched me. The way you said my name.”

You stare into his eyes.

Then nod.

“Y-Yeah.”

He leans in again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles.

“I'm glad.”

He’s so glad. Because this time?

He’s not letting you wake up without him.

SHANKS

You board the Red Force just before sunset, waves golden and glittering behind you.

You stretch your arms and laugh.

“Mmm, it feels so good to be back!”

He hears you before he sees you.

Leaning against the railing near his quarters, half-shadowed. A bottle in one hand, his coat slung over his shoulder.

But his eyes? Dead on you.

“Well, well… look who finally came home.”

You grin.

“Miss me?”

“Every night.”

You laugh—but don’t notice how still he’s gone.

“Bet the crew missed me more.”

“I didn’t say the crew.”

Your smile falters.

He steps forward.

You step back on instinct.

“Shanks—?”

Your back hits the cabin door. He cages you in—one arm next to your head, his chest pressed against yours.

“Three nights.”

His voice is low. Rough. Not joking.

“You. Me. Right here.”

You blink, breath catching.

“I don’t—I didn’t know I—”

“You didn’t have to.”

He leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

“You rode me like you owned me.”

“Shanks—”

“Said I was aaall yours.”

And then?

He kisses you.

It’s filthy.

His tongue parts your lips without warning. His hand grips your thigh, pulling it up against his hip as he pins you harder to the door.

Your gasp disappears into him.

His breath is fire. His mouth is all heat and hunger.

When he finally pulls back, you’re dazed—barely holding yourself up.

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

“Still think I didn’t miss you?”

You shake your head.

“Good girl.”

His lips graze down your neck.

“Now let’s see if you meant everything you whispered when you were possessing me in those dreams.”

Your knees give out.

He catches you.

And smiles like he’s won the grand line.

LAW

You walk into the Polar Tang’s medbay with a skip in your step, tossing a file onto the counter.

“Mission complete. I didn’t die. I deserve snacks.”

He doesn’t answer.

You glance over.

He’s sitting on his stool, coat off, gloves gone, eyes on you.

But there’s something off in them.

Sharp.

Tense.

You blink.

“...You okay?”

He stands.

Silent.

You open your mouth to speak again, but he’s already crossed the room—grabbing your wrist.

“Law—?”

You’re turned, spun, and pinned to the steel wall.

His body cages yours. His hand slams the wall beside your head.

“Three. Nights.”

His voice is dangerously low.

“Three nights you’ve been crawling on top of me in my sleep.”

You blink. Red.

“What? What do you—”

“Shut up.”

His fingers slide along your jaw.

“You said you wanted to be ruined. By me. Only me.”

“I-It was just a dream—!”

“No. It wasn’t.”

He leans in. Breath hot. Voice sharp.

“Because I’ve thought about it every minute since.”

His lips brush yours.

“And now you’re back. And I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”

He kisses you.

Rough. Desperate. Unforgiving.

You gasp—he swallows it. His hand grabs your waist, the other threading into your hair. His body presses close, hips locking you into place.

He kisses you like he’s claiming you.

And maybe he is.

“Law—” you whisper, dazed.

He breathes against your lips.

“You want me to stop? Say it now.”

You shake your head.

“Good.”

His mouth is on yours again before the word even leaves.

Because whatever happened in those dreams—

He’s making it real.

CORAZON

You slip into his room like always, balancing a warm drink and a little smile.

“Rosi, I brought you chamomile! Thought you could use a quiet night in.”

He turns.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, coat off, shirt wrinkled, hair ruffled like he’s barely slept.

And the moment he sees you?

His whole body goes still.

You don’t notice at first.

Until you take a step closer—and he suddenly stands.

Tall. Towering. Staring.

You blink.

“Rosi—?”

He crosses the room in three slow, heavy steps.

Takes the cup from your hand.

Sets it aside without a word.

Then leans in.

You try to speak—

“I dreamed of you.”

His voice is quiet.

But deep. Raw. Wrecked.

“Every single night you were gone.”

Your blink, then smile. Hesitantly.

“U-Um, was it at least a nice drea—”

“—You were on top of me. Whining. Begging. Touching me like you’d die if I stopped.”

You freeze.

His fingers brush your jaw. Tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.”

He leans closer.

His nose grazes yours. His lips hover.

“But now you’re here, and I...”

“I can’t.”

And he kisses you.

Not soft. Not shy.

Hungry.

His hand cups the back of your head. His body presses into yours, guiding you gently but firmly against the nearest wall.

The kiss deepens—wet, open, breathless. You whimper. His hand tightens at your hip.

He pulls back, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he pants. “I just can’t pretend you don’t undo me.”

“Rosi—”

You kiss him back.

And he melts.

But only for a moment—before pressing his forehead to yours.

“You said you loved me. Tell me you meant it.”

“I did.”

He exhales—shaky.

Then smiles.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

He huffs a laugh, blinking back tears.

And kisses you like he’s never letting go.

#one piece reacts #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks x reader #shanks #marco the phoenix #marco x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #corazon x reader #corazon #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante x reader

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cloudzoro · 10 months ago

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One Piece Characters who are OBSESSED with eating you out. ♡

cw: fem!reader, smut

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Sit on my face, none of that hovering bullshit.” type of people who'll lay down and take what you give them. If you're gonna sit on their face, you better commit to that shit and ride their face. They'll keep a strong grip on your ass to guide you on their tongue.

- Zoro, Reiju, Smoker

Don't wear a skirt or little dress around them unless you want them to bend you over the nearest surface and eat it from the back. They'll spread your cheeks, tongue fucking your cunt then licking up to give your other hole some love too. They love the way your legs shake and you struggle to keep your balance as you cum but it's OK because they've got you and they're not letting go any time soon.

- Ace (heavy on him 🤤), Robin, Crocodile

First thing in the morning they're making sure you stay in bed with them just a little longer so that they can kiss their way down your body and lick at your pretty pussy. They know exactly where to lick and where to suck to rile you up in minutes. Plus, you're so sensitive in the morning that it doesn't take long to make you cum. They suck love bites into your thighs to leave reminders of your intimate morning all day.

- Shanks, Law, Tashigi

They're messy about eating your pussy; spitting on it, making you cum multiple times and cleaning it up with their tongue, even licking their own cum from your sensitive used pussy. They make you cum until their mouth, cheeks and chin are covered in your juices. They're not not satisfied unless they've made a mess of you and the bedsheets beneath you.

- Sanji, Nami, Ace

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

masterlist | one piece masterlist

thank you for reading and enjoying! reblogs/comments are very greatly appreciated

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inquisitor-runa · 9 months ago

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Who fell first and who fell harder - One Piece edition

Zoro: He fell first and harder

Law: You fell first, he fell harder

Kid: He fell first and harder

Luffy: You fell first and harder

Ace: He fell first and harder

Shanks: You fell first, he fell harder

Crocodile: You fell first and harder

Mihawk: You fell first and harder

Buggy: He fell first and harder

Sanji: He fell first and harder

Sabo: He fell first, you fell harder

Marco: You fell first, he fell harder

Doflamingo: You fell first and harder

Rob Lucci: You fell first and harder

Corazon: He fell first and harder (literally and figuratively)

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sh4nksslvt · 20 days ago

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CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #idk what im doing #shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #shanks #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #op mihawk #zoro #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk

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inseobts · 1 month ago

Text

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: luffy, kidd, katakuri, shanks and mihawk

(zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo)

a/n: since a loooot asked for more, here I am eheh

words count: around 0.4k - 1.1k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way Luffy always stole food from your plate, but make sure to never let anyone else touch it.

Maybe it was how he always grabbed your hand first whenever the crew split up.

Maybe it was how he insisted on napping with you, his head always finding your lap, his arms always looping around you like a makeshift pillow.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

You’re not sure where this will go. But for now, you’re content to just be here with him, uncertain, but sure of one thing: neither of you are going anywhere.

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