30 ⥠she/her ⥠real life version of Jekyll & Hyde ⥠One Piece Blog ⥠daydreaming about OP dilfs ⥠unhealthily obsessed with Beckman, Shanks & Sir Crocodile ⥠but also having a sweet spot for the Whitebeard Pirates âĄ
side blog: newworldnavigator
đŽââ ïž This is a One Piece fanblog where I will post some of my own writing from time to time. (Sfw and nsfw) I am currently writing mostly f!reader but i will try to write more gn
đŽââ ïž Masterlist under the cut (I appreciate every kind of feedback/like or whatsoever.)
đŽââ ïž Please be aware that english is not my frist language, unless you want to talk to me in german you have to expect some flaws in my communication/writing skills.
đŽââ ïž Feel free to ask away but if you're not able to be respectful then get the f out.
đŽââ ïž I will try to post one of my works each Friday or Saturday
đŽââ ïž REQUESTS â ïž OPEN
To do list for requests:
Firstly check if request are open
Please be specific and don't be afraid giving me as much info as possible
Want it nsfw or sfw
Give me a reader - only F!Reader or GN!Reader
I'm comfortable writing Ace, Beckman, Crocodile, Kid, Killer, Law and Shanks and maybe Marco, Rayleigh, Whitebeard and Zoro (if you can convince me enough), requests for other characters than those mentioned might get declined. Sorry.
you can also give me a song you think would fit one of the characters above and I'll write something (songs only in english or german please)
keep in mind that it might take some time for me to finish
Here's the current WIP List
đŽââ ïž sideblog: newworldnavigator where i reblog people's amazing art skills
Masterlist
here's the link for the collected song prompt challenge
here's the link for the collected Kikitober2024
here's the link for Mimi's "Nightmares"
A/N: thank you for the request @voidwatching1988 "Crocodile and a"Jenny of all trades" type of reader. She isn't flashy like the women who swoon over him or the others, nor does she fall for charms. She sort who isn't really seen or noticed til she is needed and gone when the work is done, but one night he hears her playing a guitar singing. Dark, muddy, like she was calling for the dead or a demon to rise from the depths. Unnerving, but damn does it attract him to her"
Word Count >5.000
Plot: you are the one running rain dinners from the shadows making sure everything is running smoothly. A boiler incident though got you on the rader of the boss and when he overhears you sing one night he finds himself drawn to that voice
Warnings: sfw, use of(Y/N), actually there's nothing muchto be put here, i have no clue how boilers work so sorry if this is totally wrong, not proofread, the lines sung are from the song below
Characters: Sir Crocodile x FReader, cameo by Robin
Rain Dinners woke before the sun did. Not because it wanted to but because it had to and so did you. By dawn, deliveries would start arriving. The kitchens would need supplies. The casino floor would need cleaning. Staff would begin trickling in, half awake and already complaining about the heat.
The building was a beast, really. A massive, hungry thing made of marble, gold, machinery and money. You remembered your first few weeks here, how you got lost and began drawing yourself a map so you wouldnât have to ask for directions. And during that month, you also learnt, that beasts were always breaking something.
Now, nearly two years later, you simply accepted it.
The day started with a leaking faucet in one of the guest restrooms. The night clerk caught you halfway through breakfast. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, you're not," you sighed. "Which room?"
"Ladies restroom on the first floor" he said and handed you a key.
You shoved the last bite of toast into your mouth and headed upstairs. The leak turned out to be nothing dramatic, just a pipe that was a bit loose and needed some adjustment. It didnât take you longer than five minutes to fix the problem.
Ten minutes after that, one of the dealers cornered you in the hallway. "Can you look at this?" he asked, holding up a hand wrapped in a blood-stained cloth.
You blinked at him and then pinched the bridge of your nose. "What did you do?"
"I dropped a bottle," he answered and shifted on his feet like a guilty little kid.
"You grabbed the broken glass instead of calling me, didn't you?"
"...Maybe," he mumbled innocently and you sighed deeply.
You pulled him into an empty room before he could drip blood across the expensive carpet and examined his hand. The cut wasn't deep, stupid maybe but not deep. You grabbed the first aid kit cleaned it and then wrapped it up, Threatening to smack him if he removed the bandages before tomorrow.
By the time you escaped, the kitchens were looking for you, again. One of the ovens seemed to refuse to heat properly and the cook swore it was because it was possessed and held a huge grudge against him. You just rolled your eyes and checked it, only to discover that someone had kicked the temperature control panel hard enough to knock a connection loose. Within twenty minutes the oven was cooperating again and worked flawlessly. The cook called you a miracle worker to which you just shook your head and told him that miracles usually required less swearing.
By noon you had repaired a chair, treated a burn, helped unload a shipment of liquor and chased three employees out of a storage closet they were absolutely not supposed to be using for romantic activities.
A completely normal day, at least for you because you didnât know it any differently.
The afternoon heat settled over Rain Dinners like a blanket. Customers flooded the casino floor. Coins clinked, cards were shuffled, customers laughed and cursed, waitresses danced between tables carrying trays balanced on one hand. The whole building was humming and alive and business was exactly how the boss liked itâŠ..good and running.
Which was why the sound caught your attention immediately as you walked down the corridors because that sound was not supposed to be there. It was a metallic groan, rather faint and almost buried beneath the noise. Most people wouldnât have noticed but working here for as long as you did, made you very aware of sounds that were uncommon.
And this particular sound made you freeze, and you focused on it and of course you heard it again. Low and sharp and definitely wrong. Your stomach dropped because now you knew what it was.
Without a word, you abandoned the stack of inventory papers in your hands and headed toward the maintenance corridors as fast as you could. The deeper underground you went, the hotter it became and you already started swearing inwardly. Steam pipes lined the walls. The air smelled metallic and then you heard it, a dangerous hiss, followed by another and another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The doorknob of the boiler room nearly burned your hand when you turned it and opened the door. Steam was filling the chamber and the pressure gauge was climbing far too high and you tensed. One glance told you everything. A valve had jammed and the backup release had somehow not activated. You knew if the pressure continued building up like this, the resulting explosion would maybe not destroy the whole place but it would start a fire, possibly several. In a building full of alcohol, expensive carpets, wooden furniture and panicking customers.
Wonderful, just wonderful. Oh what a great day. You were dealing with a lot of tough situations each day but this, this was the worst case scenario right now. You moved, crossing the room immediately. The metal housing radiated enough heat to sting through your gloves that you always carried with you and had put on to prevent injuries. The gauge climbed another notch. A loud bang echoed inside the boiler.
Your pulse quickened and you forced your hands to remain steady, they could shake later on but not now. "Okay," you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a wrench. "Let's not explode today."
The machine though seemed to disagree or at least not care about what you wanted. A violent burst of steam shot from a side pipe and you swore as the wrench slipped from your hands. Your sleeve snagged on exposed metal and the pressure gauge continued climbing.
Nobody else was coming, why would there, nobody else even knew what was going on here and maybe it was for the better. At least this way no one would shout in your ear and panic.
For one ridiculous moment you imagined tomorrow's newspaper. Local Casino Destroyed By Angry Boiler. Owner Probably Irritated.
You barked out a laugh despite yourself, knowing that the boss wouldnât just be irritated but more likely furious that no one took care of it. âGet yourself together we can do this,â you encouraged yourself and got back to work.
Five minutes later sweat soaked your shirt. Ten minutes later your hands hurt. Fifteen minutes later the release valve finally moved and a deafening roar erupted from the machine. Steam blasted through the emergency vent and thankfully the pressure gauge began to drop. Slowly yes but steadily. You didnât exhale in relief just yet and instead kept watching it. Waiting, inwardly preparing for it to increase again. Until the needle finally settled back into the safe zone.
You had no clue why you held your breath for a moment but when you heard the boiler rumble peacefully, as though it hadnât nearly turned itself into a bomb, you let out a deep exhale and leaned against the wall. You were exhausted, covered in grime and burned in three separate places. "You're welcome," you muttered to the machine and that stupid thing remained ungrateful, typical.
By the time maintenance supervisors arrived, alerted by delayed system warnings, you were already gathering your tools. One of them stared at the boiler, then at you, then back at the boiler and at you again. "...Did you fix it?" he asked in sheer disbelief.
"Looks that way or do you see someone else here," you said not getting why he looked so stunned.
"You did this by yourself?"
"There wasn't really time to wait," you shrugged.
The man looked pale and you finally understood why. Because now that the danger had passed, the staff would realize exactly how close Rain Dinners had come to becoming a very expensive disaster. You didnât really care and instead picked up your toolbox. "Try replacing the valve assembly before it happens again." Was all you said before you walked out.
There were still three broken lights near the west hallway. And somebody had apparently dislocated a shoulder trying to impress a waitress. Work didn't stop just because you prevented a catastrophe.
The shoulder turned out to be exactly as stupid as advertised. You found the injured man sitting in the employee break room with an ice pack pressed against his arm and a waitress trying very hard not to laugh at him.
"I can explain," he said immediately.
You sighed as if you cared about how that happened. "No," you groaned but he felt the need to tell you the story nonetheless.
"I was attempting a backflip," he explained a bit embarrassed and the waitress couldnât hold her laughter back and snorted. She tried to turn away from the two of you while you pinched the bridge of your nose.
"Why?"
He looked offended at your questions because to him it was obvious. "To impress her," he said vaguely gesturing to the waitress.
You looked at her and she shook her head. "I was impressed before the backflip," she stated.
Oh and that was the moment you almost laughed because the waitress seemed to have just devasted him with those words.
"You're both making this worse," he mumbled slumping a bit into himself and then wincing because of his shoulder.
You sighed and reset the shoulder anyway. His screaming could probably be heard from the casino floor and was definitely not adding to him trying to impress the waitress. Afterwards, you left him with instructions to rest, which he immediately promised to ignore.
Another completely normal interaction.
The sun was setting by the time you finally returned to the maintenance closet that doubled as your workspace. Toolboxes lined the walls. Shelves overflowed with spare parts. Bandages occupied the same cabinet as pipe fittings because there simply wasn't enough room for proper organization. You dropped into a chair and for exactly thirty seconds you could just breathe and relax because then someone knocked. You ran a hand through your hair, staring at the ceiling who didnât offer any assistance. "Come in."
A young waitress poked her head through the doorway and you half expected her to tell you another man injured himself trying to be tough and flirty. "The kitchen sent me."
Well, that was not what you expected yet, also not really surprising either. "What happened?"
"The freezer door won't close," she explained quietly her hands fidgeting a bit with her sleeves as if she felt bad for disturbing you.
You stood up, again, because apparently more than a 30 second rest wasnât in for you today. The waitress winced sympathetically.
"You should probably rest. I can tell the kitchen youâre currently busy," she mumbled and you smiled at her and grabbed your wrench.
"I appreciate it but I'll rest when the building stops trying to kill itself."
She laughed though you werenât entirely joking.
Elsewhere, several floors above your current suffering, Miss All Sunday stood inside Crocodile's office. Not many people were allowed to be there, not many got to see him but she wasnât like anyone else.
The office itself was quiet. The only sounds came from turning paperwork and the faint crackle of a cigar.
Crocodile sat behind his desk. Golden hook gleaming beneath the lamplight and cigar loosely between his lips. His expression was unreadable which was usually not a good sign. He had a report in his hand, his eyes tracing over the words about a boiler incident.
"Explain," was all he said. One word nothing more but Robin was used to it.
"One of the boilers in the underground floors acted up, a valve seemed to have been refusing to work," she explained calmly, repeating the words that the maintenance supervisor told her.
Crocodile's eyes lifted from the report. "The report says a catastrophic failure was avoided."
"Yes."
He took a slow drag from his cigar and looked at Robin. "Why wasnât I informed?" he asked.
Robin smiled softly because she knew that he would probably not like the answer. "Because it had already been handled when the maintenance team arrived."
Silence and his expression shifting, a mix of curiosity and something else. He leaned slightly forward his elbows resting on his desk. "Handled by whom?"
"The clerk," Robin answered, knowing that Crocodile had no clue who she was talking about, she knew that you were usually the one doing the work and then disappearing because you enjoyed being in the shadows.
Crocodile's gaze narrowed exhaling a deep plum of smoke. "The one from the report?" he asked and Robin nodded. He stared at the report he had read it but flipped it open again nonetheless:
Single employee responded. Single employee repaired malfunction. Single employee prevented shutdown. Single employee prevented potential fire. Single employee left before whole team arrived.
It read less like a maintenance report and more like a bizarre folk tale. One clerk wandering around solving disasters.
"Tell me his name," he ordered Robin and she smiled a bit wider.
"Her name," she corrected and definitely enjoyed his reaction when he found out, that the one doing the heavy lifting and the dirty work was a girl. "(Y/N)" she added.
"Whatâs her position here? Clerk is a wide range," he said after a moment.
"Various," Robin answered. "She assists maintenance, also kitchen operations, first aid, unloading of shipments, inventory, she repairs gaming tables occasionally, basically sheâs doing everything at once."
Crocodile stared and leaned back slowly. The movement somehow felt more threatening than shouting. "So." His voice remained calm. "Rain Dinners employs a woman whose official position appears to be everywhere without being seen," he huffed taking another drag from his cigar, smoke drifting through the room. He looked back down at the report and Robin didnât miss how his expression had shifted into something close to curiosity, not because the employee existed because people like that existed everywhere, competent workers, useful workers, reliable workers but that wasnât the reason. No, what interested him, was that this one had managed to remain invisible from him.
Rain Dinners was his, despite Robin being the manager, every department, every manager, every profitable venture was his. He knew where money and supplies moved. He knew which employees excelled, which stole, which lied, well mostly because usually Miss All Sunday would point that out to him, but still he knew the people who worked under him. Yet somehow there was a woman walking through his casino plugging holes before anyone even noticed they existed.
That was unusual and unusual things warranted attention. "Have her personnel file delivered. And then tell me why you didnât tell me about her earlier," he grumbled lowly.
Robin wasnât intimidated though, she just remained calm and relaxed. "As you wish," she whispered and then turned to leave.
The office door shut and silence returned. Crocodile glanced once more at the report. Prevented major infrastructure failure, potential fire avoided, business uninterrupted. A corner of the paper had been stained with grease. Probably from whoever wrote it or perhaps from the woman herself, he didnât know but he didnât care. There were more important matters to address. Kingdoms to manipulate, rebellions to monitor, organizations to command and one anonymous employee wasn't worth dwelling on.
At least that was what he told himself.
Three hours later, after fixing the freezer door, replacing two light fixtures and treating a cook who had somehow sliced his thumb while cutting bread, you finally escaped. The desert air greeted you the moment you stepped outside. It was cooler now, almost gentler. The stars stretched endlessly overhead. For the first time all day, nobody was looking for you. There were no emergencies, no repairs and no disasters.
You sat on an empty supply crate behind the building and let out a long breath. The quiet felt strange and almost unfamiliar. Most people spent their days chasing excitement. You spent yours chasing problems. Maybe that was why silence always felt like borrowed time. You rolled your shoulders and stared out across the moonlit sands.
Tomorrow would bring another broken pipe, another injury, another crisis because something was always happening. Things broke and someone had to fix them. You had never really minded being that someone. Even if most people forgot your name five minutes later. The desert wind stirred your hair and for now it didnât matter, you could worry about it tomorrow. Now you just wanted to spend a few more minutes here before heading back inside.
Far above, in an office overlooking Rain Dinners, a single light still burned. And behind that window sat a man currently reading your personnel file for the third time. Though neither of you knew it yet, that ordinary day had quietly become the beginning of something neither of you would be able to ignore forever.
By the time you climbed the narrow staircase leading to the staff quarters, Rain Dinners still glittered beneath you.
Music drifted from the casino floor, coins clattered and laughter echoed through the polished halls. The guests were most likely gambling till sunrise while you had finally reached the door to your own sanctuary because you had clearly reached your limit for today.
Your room sat tucked away in an older section of the building where servants and maintenance workers lived. It was small, clean and enough. You had a narrow bed standing against one wall, a wardrobe occupied the opposite corner and a single window overlooked the town. You didnât need a grand room or luxury to make it feel comfy, you just needed it to be yours. And you needed your guitar.
It leaned beside the bed, itâs wood scarred from years of use and one tuning peg had been replaced by hand. The finish had worn away where fingers rested most often. It wasnât beautiful in the aesthetic way but it was beautiful to you because it had always been with you.
You set your toolbox on the floor with a dull thud. Your hands stung, there was grease beneath your nails and a burn across your wrist where steam had kissed your skin earlier that afternoon. With practiced ease, you lifted the guitar into your lap and settled beside the open window. Cool desert air slipped inside.
Your fingers found the strings without thought. A slow melody spilled into the night. Soft, gentle, nothing like the noisy chaos downstairs. You closed your eyes and the tension in your shoulders eased little by little. The building seemed possibly far away, the tasks, the work everything seemed to blur away in this moment because now it was just you and your guitar. You played until your eyelids grew heavy, then carefully returned the instrument to it's place beside the bed.
Tomorrow would come early and youâd have to fix things, look after them, patch people up and just be the shadow that was everywhere and nowhere at once. But it was okay. You didnât need the spotlight you just needed to know that your work was appreciated and that even though most didnât even know your name you were still part of this, you were still the one to keep the machine running.
The next morning began with a clogged sink, followed by a missing inventory ledger, a roulette wheel that refused to spin properly and that all before lunch. By afternoon, a water line burst beneath the east hallway. By evening, your shirt was streaked with dust and oil, your hair had escaped whatever attempt you had made to tame it, and someone had shoved half a sandwich into your hands because they had noticed you hadn't stopped long enough to eat. You took two bites while tightening a loose pipe, it was a luxury really.
By the time you staggered back upstairs, long after sunset, every muscle in your body protested. You washed the soot from your face as best you could, changed into an old shirt and opened the window before you reached for your guitar. This time the melody though was different. It was lower, slower, rolling through the room like thunder. Your fingers pulled sounds from the strings that seemed older than the world itself. The notes lingered, heavy and almost haunting. The kind of song travellers might sing around dying campfires. Without realizing it, you began to sing. Your voice wasn't polished, you knew that, it wasnât delicate. No, it carried gravel, it sounded deep, a voice shaped by lonely nights and it fit the song perfectly.
Outside your window, the desert listened. So did someone else. Not far away, Crocodile emerged from his office after another night buried beneath reports and ledgers. The casino had quieted, only a handful of staff remained awake. He intended to retire for the evening but then music reached him. And it wasnât the music from the casino. He stopped, the melody floated through the marble halls, slipping through the hallway like the smoke of his cigar.
The voice carried another verse, this time it was deeper, muddier, enough to raise the hair along the back of his neck and it sounded like it was performing for the desert and not an audience. He found himself turning toward it before he had consciously decided to. Step by measured step, he followed the sound through corridors he rarely walked, towards a forgotten corner of his own establishment, a small room occupied by someone whose name had only appeared on his desk that morning. He did not know why he kept walking. Only that, for the first time in weeks, something inside Rain Dinners had captured his attention completely and he intended to see what it was.
The melody never faltered. Your fingers moved from memory alone, gliding over worn strings, polished smooth by years of use. The room was dark save for the lantern burning low on your bedside table. Itâs warm glow spilled across faded floorboards and the open window where the desert breeze drifted through thin curtains.
And so you sang.
"When the door opened wide, a man stood inside and said come in out of the rain..."
Your voice carried softly into the corridor, heavy with old stories and older warnings. Outside your door, footsteps slowed and then stopped right at your door.
"His eyes were dark like the eyes of a shark, his face was neither young nor old..."
Crocodile stood motionless. The hallway behind him was silent. Only the distant sounds of Rain Dinners remained but none of it reached him, not in this moment because now only the song did. It sounded less like entertainment and more like an old tale being remembered. One passed from generation to generation until nobody recalled where it had begun.
"I paused for a beat before moving my feet and crossing that wide threshold..."
His cigar had burned nearly to the filter and he hadnât even noticed. He found himself mesmerized, standing before a plain wooden door tucked into a servants' corridor, listening as though any movement might break the spell.
"It was a summer night and a fire burned bright, but I began to shiver and shake..."
An amused thought crossed his mind. An old song about a dangerous stranger. How fitting. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. Not quite a smile but something very close to it.
"He gave me a coat of fur, a smile demur, and a plate full of devil's food cake..."
The lantern inside cast your shadow against the wall.
You kept playing and singing, completely unaware that the owner of Rain Dinners stood scarcely a few feet away. For the first time since he had learned your name, Crocodile saw not the indispensable worker everyone relied upon. He saw a woman alone with something she loved. And what struck him even harder was that you werenât performing for someone else, you had no expectations or desire for praise, you just did this forâŠ..yourself. Just you, an old guitar and a voice that sounded as though it belonged to the night itself.
"He sat down on a chair like a lion in his lair and lit up a thin cigar..."
His gaze instinctively dropped to the cigar between his fingers. The irony was so precise it was almost unsettling. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if you had somehow known he was there but the thought vanished as quickly as it came.
No, you didnât because you continued playing without hesitation, without faltering for a second and without a single glance towards the doorway. You were indeed completely oblivious to his presence. That, somehow, fascinated him more than if you'd gasped or stumbled over the words. Every woman who entered his casino knew who he was. They stared, whispered, some sought his favor, others feared him. You didn't even know he was listening. He remained where he was until the last note faded into silence.
Only then did the floorboard beneath his polished shoe creak. Your fingers stilled against the strings and you turned your head, your eyes finally found the tall figure standing quietly in the doorway. Neither of you spoke as smoke culred lazily upward from the cigar between his fingers.
It almost seemed as though the song had called him there and neither of you knew what to make of that. You didn't gasp. You didn't scramble to your feet or drop your guitar in a panic.
You simply sat there, your fingers resting lightly over the strings to mute their quiet hum. You recognized him, of course. It was impossible not to know the man who owned the very walls you kept from crumbling. You took in the heavy coat, the golden hook gleaming in the low light, and the cigar trapped between his teeth.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was the distant desert wind. "Is something leaking on the top floor?" you finally asked, your voice still carrying the rough, gravelly edge from your song.
A heavy exhale of smoke escaped Crocodileâs lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a sharp, genuine smirk. Any other woman in this building would be smoothing her hair, batting her eyelashes, or trembling out an apology. You were just wondering if you needed to grab your wrench again.
"No," he rumbled, his deep voice filling the small, cramped room. "The top floor is perfectly intact."
"Good." You leaned back against the window frame, not breaking eye contact. "Because I'm off the clock."
Crocodile took a slow step into the room, his towering frame making the modest space feel suddenly entirely too small. He didn't look at the grease beneath your nails or the soot smudged across your cheek. His dark eyes were fixed entirely on your face, analyzing you with the calculating intensity of a predator who had just discovered an entirely new breed of prey.
"A single employee," he began, his tone smooth and quiet, "who prevents major infrastructure failures, repairs gaming tables, patches up bleeding staff and disappears before anyone can thank her." He paused, his gaze dropping briefly to the worn instrument in your lap. "And then summons demons in the dark."
"I wasn't summoning demons," you replied plainly. "Just playing."
"It sounded like a warning."
"Maybe it was." You met his stare head-on, completely immune to the heavy, intimidating aura he naturally projected. "The building tries to kill itself every day. You learn to stay on your toes."
Crocodile chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in the quiet room. He had empires to run, rebellions to fund, and millions of berries to manage. Yet, looking at you, unimpressed, unbothered and entirely capable, he realized he hadn't been this fascinated by anything in years. You weren't a shiny, flashy distraction. You were the foundation holding the floorboards together, dark and steady.
"Tomorrow," he said, turning back toward the doorway, the heavy fabric of his coat swishing softly. He paused at the threshold, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Leave the maintenance calls to the rest of the staff. You will report to my office."
You raised an eyebrow. "Is a pipe broken in there?"
"No," Crocodile replied, his smirk returning, darker and more promising this time. "But I have a sudden appreciation for old songs. And I expect my employees to cater to my interests."
He didn't wait for your answer. He simply stepped back out into the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded entirely.
You sat in the quiet for a moment, listening to the hum of the casino far below. You looked at the door, then down at your calloused, grease-stained hands. With a heavy sigh, you carefully set your guitar down. Tomorrow was going to be a very different kind of day.
The next morning, you didn't go to the boiler room or the kitchen. You stood outside the heavy mahogany door of the office, your hands wiped clean of grease, though a faint scent of oil still clung to your shirt. You didn't feel nervous, you felt annoyed that you weren't out repairing the cooling system.
You knocked once and entered without waiting for a command.
Crocodile was behind his desk, the golden hook catching the morning light. He didn't look up from his papers immediately, a test of patience you had no intention of failing. When he finally leaned back, his eyes traveled over you, not as a piece of property, but as someone he was finally beginning to understand.
"You're late," he remarked, the smoke from his cigar drifting lazily between you.
"I was finishing a repair on the second floor," you replied, crossing your arms. "If you wanted me here, you shouldn't have broken my schedule."
A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. He stood up, towering over the desk and walked around it until he was standing uncomfortably close to you. He didn't expect you to shrink away, and you didn't, you simply held your ground, staring back with the same steadiness you used when staring down a failing boiler.
He reached out, his gloved hand tracing the air near your jaw, stopping just short of touching your skin. It was a gesture of possessiveness, but his eyes held a flicker of genuine curiosity, the first sign that you were becoming more than a curiosity to him. "You sing every night?"
"When I feel like it," you answered, your gaze remaining fixed on his.
"For yourself?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Who else?"
He was silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted. "A waste," he simply stated, making you frown.
"Most people in this casino spend their lives trying to be seen by me," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the air in the room feel heavy. "You, on the other hand, seem determined to remain a ghost."
"Ghosts are more useful," you said coolly. "They don't get in the way of the work."
"I don't want a ghost anymore," he countered, finally closing the distance to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a sharp contrast to the cold gold of his hook. "I decided that I prefer to end my evenings with music reserved for me." He took aslowdrag from his cigar. "I've tolerated broken pipes, failing boilers, and incompetent staff." He continued, his gaze flicking to the guitar. "But I've no intention of discovering that the only thing in this building capable of silencing it belongs somewhere else."
He stepped back, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze remained.
"So you stay where I can keep an eye on you," he ordered, gesturing toward a chair. "The maintenance team can handle the leaks today. I have a feeling youâre going to be much more occupied with me."
You looked at the chair, then at him, and for the first time, you felt the sharp, electric thrill of being the one thing that Crocodile couldn't quite figure out. You sat down, and for once, the tools stayed in the box. For the first time in years someone else had decided you belonged somewhere other than fixing the next disaster.
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
'Playfully Begging for a Kiss' Headcanons - Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates
After writing this prompt for Namur I wanted to do a HC set for more characters.
âHelp!â You shout, running over and collapsing into their arms. âItâs critical! Quickly! I needâŠa kiss!â
Luffy: Big, dramatic âWhat?!â He immediately grabs your face and gives you a kiss, looking worried when he pulls away. âAre you okay now?â Yes, Captain, you certainly are now.
Nami: âItâll cost you,â she says.
âIâll pay anything! Please!â
Nami smiles and kisses you. âIâll collect later,â she promises.
Zoro: âYou wonât die from a lack of kisses,â he says. But all it takes is for you to pout or really insist that you need it to live. Heâll relent and play along, giving you a brief but earnest kiss. BUT if Sanji is watching, heâll immediately kiss you from the start just to hold it over the cook.
Sanji: Heart eyes, blushing, he becomes a mess of adoration. All he can manage to respond is with âOf course!â before he kisses you passionately. Thankfully, heâs a good kisser even when heâs flustered. Sanji thinks about your little ploy for the rest of the day.
Usopp: Matches your energy, responding with the same dramatics. Heâs also flustered, but commits to the bit. âThen count on me to provide!â he says with his chest thrust out, and then dips you back for a kiss.
Franky: âYou got it, baby!â he says, and kisses you. If you hype him up with a âyou saved me!â heâll do his signature pose.
Robin: She giggles and gives you a soft, sweet little kiss. If sheâs feeling frisky, you might feel another set of lips elsewhere on your body, where the crew canât seeâŠ
Brook: âBut I donât have lips! Yohohoho!â he says, just to get you to laugh.
âKiss me anyway?â you ask.
âReally? You donât mind?â
You nod.
âWell, then how can I deny such a sweet request?â He carefully holds your head in his bony hands, then presses his teeth to your lips. Heâs so overcome by joy he jumps up, spins around, and yohohohoâs in delight.
Jinbe: Blushes and stammers. Even if youâre already in a relationship, heâs a bit shy with PDA. It may take a little begging, but heâll do it; your smile is worth the embarrassment.
Marco: âActually, according to my expertiseâŠâ he cups your cheek and kisses you. âYou need at least three.â He kisses you two more times, then a few more, however many it takes to make you giggle.
Ace: He blushes, but laughs, pulling you in for a kiss. Poor boy tends to easily get a hard-on from prolonged kissing, so he doesnât let it last too long if you two donât have privacy.
Izou: To your surprise, he kisses you without any comment. Then he keeps kissing you, turning it into an impromptu make-out session. Your surrounding crewmates will definitely wolf whistle and raise a fuss that makes you embarrassed. You try to get Izou to stop, but he taunts you that you started it, you canât back out now. Will probably use his Commander privileges to shirk duties for a bit and take you back to his room.
Thatch: âOh, really? Well, I guess it canât be helped,â he says, and kisses you tenderly. Even if heâs busy, heâll stop for a quick kiss. Heâs all smiles afterward, cheered up from your antics. Be careful; he might get cuteness aggression that heâll act out later, when he has more timeâŠ
Jozu: âHmph.â He crosses his arms.
âHmph?â you repeat, pouting.
âDonât give me that look. It hurts my back to bend over so far,â he explains.
You tug on his hand until he lowers it to you, then climb up his arm and perch on his massive shoulder pad. âHow âbout now?â
âHmph,â he says, but leans to peck your cheek. You go âyes!â and hop back down, and he smiles when youâre not looking.
Vista: Plays along without missing a beat. âWorry not, my dear,â he says, leading you by the arms in a little spin. He dances a few steps with you, then dips you back. âYouâll never go wanting with me.â He kisses you just right, not too lewd but not chaste either, the perfect balance of sweetness and desire for the perfect gentleman.
Blamenco: Chuckles and kisses you without any fuss. He always tends to give you what you want and is very laid-back.
Rakuyo: Laughs from deep in his gut, amused. He tilts up your chin, grinning, and kisses you. âAll you ever need to do is ask, baby.â
Namur: (The blorbo that prompted this whole thing, has his own ficlet here.)
Blenheim: Very pleased to have been chosen for one of your silly games. He picks you up and pecks you on the lips. âNeed me to kiss anywhere else?â he murmurs with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Curiel: To your surprise, he kisses your neck, open-mouthed and hot. You gasp and clutch the fabric of his coat.
âCuriel!â you whine.
âIs this not what you needed?â he teases.
Kingdew: Blushes deeply, hands held up defensively. âBut IâŠI canâtâŠBut youâŠâ You keep looking expectantly, and he finally gives a swift kiss to the top of your head. âThere!â He says and hurriedly leaves in a flustered mess.
Haruta: Blushing, his tone is accusatory. âWhat are you up to now?â
âHurry, Haruta!â
âButâ!â
âI wonât last much longer!â you insist, tugging on his puffy collar.
He grits his teeth, glancing aside. Finally he presses his lips to yours. You repress a laugh when he does; his kiss is soft and gentle, a dead giveaway to how much he likes you.
âYouâre welcome, brat,â he says, crossing his arms and pretending he didnât like it.
Atmos: He smiles wide, giggling nervously. But he picks you up and smooches your cheek. Brags about it for the rest of the week.
Jiru: Before you can even finish what you were saying, he kisses you firmly with a joyful âmwah!â Heâs very good an anticipating you, from your actions to your needs.
Fossa: Surprisingly shy, but he doesnât blush, just grunts at you. âRight here?â
âRight here, right now!â you demand, taking his cigar.
âGood grief, youâre spoiled. Alright.â He rolls his eyes and rests his hand on the back of your head, tilting it forward so he can kiss your forehead.
âThatâs all yer gettinâ,â he gruffs.
A/N: thank you for the request @voidwatching1988 "Crocodile and a"Jenny of all trades" type of reader. She isn't flashy like the women who swoon over him or the others, nor does she fall for charms. She sort who isn't really seen or noticed til she is needed and gone when the work is done, but one night he hears her playing a guitar singing. Dark, muddy, like she was calling for the dead or a demon to rise from the depths. Unnerving, but damn does it attract him to her"
Word Count >5.000
Plot: you are the one running rain dinners from the shadows making sure everything is running smoothly. A boiler incident though got you on the rader of the boss and when he overhears you sing one night he finds himself drawn to that voice
Warnings: sfw, use of(Y/N), actually there's nothing muchto be put here, i have no clue how boilers work so sorry if this is totally wrong, not proofread, the lines sung are from the song below
Characters: Sir Crocodile x FReader, cameo by Robin
Rain Dinners woke before the sun did. Not because it wanted to but because it had to and so did you. By dawn, deliveries would start arriving. The kitchens would need supplies. The casino floor would need cleaning. Staff would begin trickling in, half awake and already complaining about the heat.
The building was a beast, really. A massive, hungry thing made of marble, gold, machinery and money. You remembered your first few weeks here, how you got lost and began drawing yourself a map so you wouldnât have to ask for directions. And during that month, you also learnt, that beasts were always breaking something.
Now, nearly two years later, you simply accepted it.
The day started with a leaking faucet in one of the guest restrooms. The night clerk caught you halfway through breakfast. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, you're not," you sighed. "Which room?"
"Ladies restroom on the first floor" he said and handed you a key.
You shoved the last bite of toast into your mouth and headed upstairs. The leak turned out to be nothing dramatic, just a pipe that was a bit loose and needed some adjustment. It didnât take you longer than five minutes to fix the problem.
Ten minutes after that, one of the dealers cornered you in the hallway. "Can you look at this?" he asked, holding up a hand wrapped in a blood-stained cloth.
You blinked at him and then pinched the bridge of your nose. "What did you do?"
"I dropped a bottle," he answered and shifted on his feet like a guilty little kid.
"You grabbed the broken glass instead of calling me, didn't you?"
"...Maybe," he mumbled innocently and you sighed deeply.
You pulled him into an empty room before he could drip blood across the expensive carpet and examined his hand. The cut wasn't deep, stupid maybe but not deep. You grabbed the first aid kit cleaned it and then wrapped it up, Threatening to smack him if he removed the bandages before tomorrow.
By the time you escaped, the kitchens were looking for you, again. One of the ovens seemed to refuse to heat properly and the cook swore it was because it was possessed and held a huge grudge against him. You just rolled your eyes and checked it, only to discover that someone had kicked the temperature control panel hard enough to knock a connection loose. Within twenty minutes the oven was cooperating again and worked flawlessly. The cook called you a miracle worker to which you just shook your head and told him that miracles usually required less swearing.
By noon you had repaired a chair, treated a burn, helped unload a shipment of liquor and chased three employees out of a storage closet they were absolutely not supposed to be using for romantic activities.
A completely normal day, at least for you because you didnât know it any differently.
The afternoon heat settled over Rain Dinners like a blanket. Customers flooded the casino floor. Coins clinked, cards were shuffled, customers laughed and cursed, waitresses danced between tables carrying trays balanced on one hand. The whole building was humming and alive and business was exactly how the boss liked itâŠ..good and running.
Which was why the sound caught your attention immediately as you walked down the corridors because that sound was not supposed to be there. It was a metallic groan, rather faint and almost buried beneath the noise. Most people wouldnât have noticed but working here for as long as you did, made you very aware of sounds that were uncommon.
And this particular sound made you freeze, and you focused on it and of course you heard it again. Low and sharp and definitely wrong. Your stomach dropped because now you knew what it was.
Without a word, you abandoned the stack of inventory papers in your hands and headed toward the maintenance corridors as fast as you could. The deeper underground you went, the hotter it became and you already started swearing inwardly. Steam pipes lined the walls. The air smelled metallic and then you heard it, a dangerous hiss, followed by another and another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The doorknob of the boiler room nearly burned your hand when you turned it and opened the door. Steam was filling the chamber and the pressure gauge was climbing far too high and you tensed. One glance told you everything. A valve had jammed and the backup release had somehow not activated. You knew if the pressure continued building up like this, the resulting explosion would maybe not destroy the whole place but it would start a fire, possibly several. In a building full of alcohol, expensive carpets, wooden furniture and panicking customers.
Wonderful, just wonderful. Oh what a great day. You were dealing with a lot of tough situations each day but this, this was the worst case scenario right now. You moved, crossing the room immediately. The metal housing radiated enough heat to sting through your gloves that you always carried with you and had put on to prevent injuries. The gauge climbed another notch. A loud bang echoed inside the boiler.
Your pulse quickened and you forced your hands to remain steady, they could shake later on but not now. "Okay," you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a wrench. "Let's not explode today."
The machine though seemed to disagree or at least not care about what you wanted. A violent burst of steam shot from a side pipe and you swore as the wrench slipped from your hands. Your sleeve snagged on exposed metal and the pressure gauge continued climbing.
Nobody else was coming, why would there, nobody else even knew what was going on here and maybe it was for the better. At least this way no one would shout in your ear and panic.
For one ridiculous moment you imagined tomorrow's newspaper. Local Casino Destroyed By Angry Boiler. Owner Probably Irritated.
You barked out a laugh despite yourself, knowing that the boss wouldnât just be irritated but more likely furious that no one took care of it. âGet yourself together we can do this,â you encouraged yourself and got back to work.
Five minutes later sweat soaked your shirt. Ten minutes later your hands hurt. Fifteen minutes later the release valve finally moved and a deafening roar erupted from the machine. Steam blasted through the emergency vent and thankfully the pressure gauge began to drop. Slowly yes but steadily. You didnât exhale in relief just yet and instead kept watching it. Waiting, inwardly preparing for it to increase again. Until the needle finally settled back into the safe zone.
You had no clue why you held your breath for a moment but when you heard the boiler rumble peacefully, as though it hadnât nearly turned itself into a bomb, you let out a deep exhale and leaned against the wall. You were exhausted, covered in grime and burned in three separate places. "You're welcome," you muttered to the machine and that stupid thing remained ungrateful, typical.
By the time maintenance supervisors arrived, alerted by delayed system warnings, you were already gathering your tools. One of them stared at the boiler, then at you, then back at the boiler and at you again. "...Did you fix it?" he asked in sheer disbelief.
"Looks that way or do you see someone else here," you said not getting why he looked so stunned.
"You did this by yourself?"
"There wasn't really time to wait," you shrugged.
The man looked pale and you finally understood why. Because now that the danger had passed, the staff would realize exactly how close Rain Dinners had come to becoming a very expensive disaster. You didnât really care and instead picked up your toolbox. "Try replacing the valve assembly before it happens again." Was all you said before you walked out.
There were still three broken lights near the west hallway. And somebody had apparently dislocated a shoulder trying to impress a waitress. Work didn't stop just because you prevented a catastrophe.
The shoulder turned out to be exactly as stupid as advertised. You found the injured man sitting in the employee break room with an ice pack pressed against his arm and a waitress trying very hard not to laugh at him.
"I can explain," he said immediately.
You sighed as if you cared about how that happened. "No," you groaned but he felt the need to tell you the story nonetheless.
"I was attempting a backflip," he explained a bit embarrassed and the waitress couldnât hold her laughter back and snorted. She tried to turn away from the two of you while you pinched the bridge of your nose.
"Why?"
He looked offended at your questions because to him it was obvious. "To impress her," he said vaguely gesturing to the waitress.
You looked at her and she shook her head. "I was impressed before the backflip," she stated.
Oh and that was the moment you almost laughed because the waitress seemed to have just devasted him with those words.
"You're both making this worse," he mumbled slumping a bit into himself and then wincing because of his shoulder.
You sighed and reset the shoulder anyway. His screaming could probably be heard from the casino floor and was definitely not adding to him trying to impress the waitress. Afterwards, you left him with instructions to rest, which he immediately promised to ignore.
Another completely normal interaction.
The sun was setting by the time you finally returned to the maintenance closet that doubled as your workspace. Toolboxes lined the walls. Shelves overflowed with spare parts. Bandages occupied the same cabinet as pipe fittings because there simply wasn't enough room for proper organization. You dropped into a chair and for exactly thirty seconds you could just breathe and relax because then someone knocked. You ran a hand through your hair, staring at the ceiling who didnât offer any assistance. "Come in."
A young waitress poked her head through the doorway and you half expected her to tell you another man injured himself trying to be tough and flirty. "The kitchen sent me."
Well, that was not what you expected yet, also not really surprising either. "What happened?"
"The freezer door won't close," she explained quietly her hands fidgeting a bit with her sleeves as if she felt bad for disturbing you.
You stood up, again, because apparently more than a 30 second rest wasnât in for you today. The waitress winced sympathetically.
"You should probably rest. I can tell the kitchen youâre currently busy," she mumbled and you smiled at her and grabbed your wrench.
"I appreciate it but I'll rest when the building stops trying to kill itself."
She laughed though you werenât entirely joking.
Elsewhere, several floors above your current suffering, Miss All Sunday stood inside Crocodile's office. Not many people were allowed to be there, not many got to see him but she wasnât like anyone else.
The office itself was quiet. The only sounds came from turning paperwork and the faint crackle of a cigar.
Crocodile sat behind his desk. Golden hook gleaming beneath the lamplight and cigar loosely between his lips. His expression was unreadable which was usually not a good sign. He had a report in his hand, his eyes tracing over the words about a boiler incident.
"Explain," was all he said. One word nothing more but Robin was used to it.
"One of the boilers in the underground floors acted up, a valve seemed to have been refusing to work," she explained calmly, repeating the words that the maintenance supervisor told her.
Crocodile's eyes lifted from the report. "The report says a catastrophic failure was avoided."
"Yes."
He took a slow drag from his cigar and looked at Robin. "Why wasnât I informed?" he asked.
Robin smiled softly because she knew that he would probably not like the answer. "Because it had already been handled when the maintenance team arrived."
Silence and his expression shifting, a mix of curiosity and something else. He leaned slightly forward his elbows resting on his desk. "Handled by whom?"
"The clerk," Robin answered, knowing that Crocodile had no clue who she was talking about, she knew that you were usually the one doing the work and then disappearing because you enjoyed being in the shadows.
Crocodile's gaze narrowed exhaling a deep plum of smoke. "The one from the report?" he asked and Robin nodded. He stared at the report he had read it but flipped it open again nonetheless:
Single employee responded. Single employee repaired malfunction. Single employee prevented shutdown. Single employee prevented potential fire. Single employee left before whole team arrived.
It read less like a maintenance report and more like a bizarre folk tale. One clerk wandering around solving disasters.
"Tell me his name," he ordered Robin and she smiled a bit wider.
"Her name," she corrected and definitely enjoyed his reaction when he found out, that the one doing the heavy lifting and the dirty work was a girl. "(Y/N)" she added.
"Whatâs her position here? Clerk is a wide range," he said after a moment.
"Various," Robin answered. "She assists maintenance, also kitchen operations, first aid, unloading of shipments, inventory, she repairs gaming tables occasionally, basically sheâs doing everything at once."
Crocodile stared and leaned back slowly. The movement somehow felt more threatening than shouting. "So." His voice remained calm. "Rain Dinners employs a woman whose official position appears to be everywhere without being seen," he huffed taking another drag from his cigar, smoke drifting through the room. He looked back down at the report and Robin didnât miss how his expression had shifted into something close to curiosity, not because the employee existed because people like that existed everywhere, competent workers, useful workers, reliable workers but that wasnât the reason. No, what interested him, was that this one had managed to remain invisible from him.
Rain Dinners was his, despite Robin being the manager, every department, every manager, every profitable venture was his. He knew where money and supplies moved. He knew which employees excelled, which stole, which lied, well mostly because usually Miss All Sunday would point that out to him, but still he knew the people who worked under him. Yet somehow there was a woman walking through his casino plugging holes before anyone even noticed they existed.
That was unusual and unusual things warranted attention. "Have her personnel file delivered. And then tell me why you didnât tell me about her earlier," he grumbled lowly.
Robin wasnât intimidated though, she just remained calm and relaxed. "As you wish," she whispered and then turned to leave.
The office door shut and silence returned. Crocodile glanced once more at the report. Prevented major infrastructure failure, potential fire avoided, business uninterrupted. A corner of the paper had been stained with grease. Probably from whoever wrote it or perhaps from the woman herself, he didnât know but he didnât care. There were more important matters to address. Kingdoms to manipulate, rebellions to monitor, organizations to command and one anonymous employee wasn't worth dwelling on.
At least that was what he told himself.
Three hours later, after fixing the freezer door, replacing two light fixtures and treating a cook who had somehow sliced his thumb while cutting bread, you finally escaped. The desert air greeted you the moment you stepped outside. It was cooler now, almost gentler. The stars stretched endlessly overhead. For the first time all day, nobody was looking for you. There were no emergencies, no repairs and no disasters.
You sat on an empty supply crate behind the building and let out a long breath. The quiet felt strange and almost unfamiliar. Most people spent their days chasing excitement. You spent yours chasing problems. Maybe that was why silence always felt like borrowed time. You rolled your shoulders and stared out across the moonlit sands.
Tomorrow would bring another broken pipe, another injury, another crisis because something was always happening. Things broke and someone had to fix them. You had never really minded being that someone. Even if most people forgot your name five minutes later. The desert wind stirred your hair and for now it didnât matter, you could worry about it tomorrow. Now you just wanted to spend a few more minutes here before heading back inside.
Far above, in an office overlooking Rain Dinners, a single light still burned. And behind that window sat a man currently reading your personnel file for the third time. Though neither of you knew it yet, that ordinary day had quietly become the beginning of something neither of you would be able to ignore forever.
By the time you climbed the narrow staircase leading to the staff quarters, Rain Dinners still glittered beneath you.
Music drifted from the casino floor, coins clattered and laughter echoed through the polished halls. The guests were most likely gambling till sunrise while you had finally reached the door to your own sanctuary because you had clearly reached your limit for today.
Your room sat tucked away in an older section of the building where servants and maintenance workers lived. It was small, clean and enough. You had a narrow bed standing against one wall, a wardrobe occupied the opposite corner and a single window overlooked the town. You didnât need a grand room or luxury to make it feel comfy, you just needed it to be yours. And you needed your guitar.
It leaned beside the bed, itâs wood scarred from years of use and one tuning peg had been replaced by hand. The finish had worn away where fingers rested most often. It wasnât beautiful in the aesthetic way but it was beautiful to you because it had always been with you.
You set your toolbox on the floor with a dull thud. Your hands stung, there was grease beneath your nails and a burn across your wrist where steam had kissed your skin earlier that afternoon. With practiced ease, you lifted the guitar into your lap and settled beside the open window. Cool desert air slipped inside.
Your fingers found the strings without thought. A slow melody spilled into the night. Soft, gentle, nothing like the noisy chaos downstairs. You closed your eyes and the tension in your shoulders eased little by little. The building seemed possibly far away, the tasks, the work everything seemed to blur away in this moment because now it was just you and your guitar. You played until your eyelids grew heavy, then carefully returned the instrument to it's place beside the bed.
Tomorrow would come early and youâd have to fix things, look after them, patch people up and just be the shadow that was everywhere and nowhere at once. But it was okay. You didnât need the spotlight you just needed to know that your work was appreciated and that even though most didnât even know your name you were still part of this, you were still the one to keep the machine running.
The next morning began with a clogged sink, followed by a missing inventory ledger, a roulette wheel that refused to spin properly and that all before lunch. By afternoon, a water line burst beneath the east hallway. By evening, your shirt was streaked with dust and oil, your hair had escaped whatever attempt you had made to tame it, and someone had shoved half a sandwich into your hands because they had noticed you hadn't stopped long enough to eat. You took two bites while tightening a loose pipe, it was a luxury really.
By the time you staggered back upstairs, long after sunset, every muscle in your body protested. You washed the soot from your face as best you could, changed into an old shirt and opened the window before you reached for your guitar. This time the melody though was different. It was lower, slower, rolling through the room like thunder. Your fingers pulled sounds from the strings that seemed older than the world itself. The notes lingered, heavy and almost haunting. The kind of song travellers might sing around dying campfires. Without realizing it, you began to sing. Your voice wasn't polished, you knew that, it wasnât delicate. No, it carried gravel, it sounded deep, a voice shaped by lonely nights and it fit the song perfectly.
Outside your window, the desert listened. So did someone else. Not far away, Crocodile emerged from his office after another night buried beneath reports and ledgers. The casino had quieted, only a handful of staff remained awake. He intended to retire for the evening but then music reached him. And it wasnât the music from the casino. He stopped, the melody floated through the marble halls, slipping through the hallway like the smoke of his cigar.
The voice carried another verse, this time it was deeper, muddier, enough to raise the hair along the back of his neck and it sounded like it was performing for the desert and not an audience. He found himself turning toward it before he had consciously decided to. Step by measured step, he followed the sound through corridors he rarely walked, towards a forgotten corner of his own establishment, a small room occupied by someone whose name had only appeared on his desk that morning. He did not know why he kept walking. Only that, for the first time in weeks, something inside Rain Dinners had captured his attention completely and he intended to see what it was.
The melody never faltered. Your fingers moved from memory alone, gliding over worn strings, polished smooth by years of use. The room was dark save for the lantern burning low on your bedside table. Itâs warm glow spilled across faded floorboards and the open window where the desert breeze drifted through thin curtains.
And so you sang.
"When the door opened wide, a man stood inside and said come in out of the rain..."
Your voice carried softly into the corridor, heavy with old stories and older warnings. Outside your door, footsteps slowed and then stopped right at your door.
"His eyes were dark like the eyes of a shark, his face was neither young nor old..."
Crocodile stood motionless. The hallway behind him was silent. Only the distant sounds of Rain Dinners remained but none of it reached him, not in this moment because now only the song did. It sounded less like entertainment and more like an old tale being remembered. One passed from generation to generation until nobody recalled where it had begun.
"I paused for a beat before moving my feet and crossing that wide threshold..."
His cigar had burned nearly to the filter and he hadnât even noticed. He found himself mesmerized, standing before a plain wooden door tucked into a servants' corridor, listening as though any movement might break the spell.
"It was a summer night and a fire burned bright, but I began to shiver and shake..."
An amused thought crossed his mind. An old song about a dangerous stranger. How fitting. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. Not quite a smile but something very close to it.
"He gave me a coat of fur, a smile demur, and a plate full of devil's food cake..."
The lantern inside cast your shadow against the wall.
You kept playing and singing, completely unaware that the owner of Rain Dinners stood scarcely a few feet away. For the first time since he had learned your name, Crocodile saw not the indispensable worker everyone relied upon. He saw a woman alone with something she loved. And what struck him even harder was that you werenât performing for someone else, you had no expectations or desire for praise, you just did this forâŠ..yourself. Just you, an old guitar and a voice that sounded as though it belonged to the night itself.
"He sat down on a chair like a lion in his lair and lit up a thin cigar..."
His gaze instinctively dropped to the cigar between his fingers. The irony was so precise it was almost unsettling. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if you had somehow known he was there but the thought vanished as quickly as it came.
No, you didnât because you continued playing without hesitation, without faltering for a second and without a single glance towards the doorway. You were indeed completely oblivious to his presence. That, somehow, fascinated him more than if you'd gasped or stumbled over the words. Every woman who entered his casino knew who he was. They stared, whispered, some sought his favor, others feared him. You didn't even know he was listening. He remained where he was until the last note faded into silence.
Only then did the floorboard beneath his polished shoe creak. Your fingers stilled against the strings and you turned your head, your eyes finally found the tall figure standing quietly in the doorway. Neither of you spoke as smoke culred lazily upward from the cigar between his fingers.
It almost seemed as though the song had called him there and neither of you knew what to make of that. You didn't gasp. You didn't scramble to your feet or drop your guitar in a panic.
You simply sat there, your fingers resting lightly over the strings to mute their quiet hum. You recognized him, of course. It was impossible not to know the man who owned the very walls you kept from crumbling. You took in the heavy coat, the golden hook gleaming in the low light, and the cigar trapped between his teeth.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was the distant desert wind. "Is something leaking on the top floor?" you finally asked, your voice still carrying the rough, gravelly edge from your song.
A heavy exhale of smoke escaped Crocodileâs lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a sharp, genuine smirk. Any other woman in this building would be smoothing her hair, batting her eyelashes, or trembling out an apology. You were just wondering if you needed to grab your wrench again.
"No," he rumbled, his deep voice filling the small, cramped room. "The top floor is perfectly intact."
"Good." You leaned back against the window frame, not breaking eye contact. "Because I'm off the clock."
Crocodile took a slow step into the room, his towering frame making the modest space feel suddenly entirely too small. He didn't look at the grease beneath your nails or the soot smudged across your cheek. His dark eyes were fixed entirely on your face, analyzing you with the calculating intensity of a predator who had just discovered an entirely new breed of prey.
"A single employee," he began, his tone smooth and quiet, "who prevents major infrastructure failures, repairs gaming tables, patches up bleeding staff and disappears before anyone can thank her." He paused, his gaze dropping briefly to the worn instrument in your lap. "And then summons demons in the dark."
"I wasn't summoning demons," you replied plainly. "Just playing."
"It sounded like a warning."
"Maybe it was." You met his stare head-on, completely immune to the heavy, intimidating aura he naturally projected. "The building tries to kill itself every day. You learn to stay on your toes."
Crocodile chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in the quiet room. He had empires to run, rebellions to fund, and millions of berries to manage. Yet, looking at you, unimpressed, unbothered and entirely capable, he realized he hadn't been this fascinated by anything in years. You weren't a shiny, flashy distraction. You were the foundation holding the floorboards together, dark and steady.
"Tomorrow," he said, turning back toward the doorway, the heavy fabric of his coat swishing softly. He paused at the threshold, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Leave the maintenance calls to the rest of the staff. You will report to my office."
You raised an eyebrow. "Is a pipe broken in there?"
"No," Crocodile replied, his smirk returning, darker and more promising this time. "But I have a sudden appreciation for old songs. And I expect my employees to cater to my interests."
He didn't wait for your answer. He simply stepped back out into the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded entirely.
You sat in the quiet for a moment, listening to the hum of the casino far below. You looked at the door, then down at your calloused, grease-stained hands. With a heavy sigh, you carefully set your guitar down. Tomorrow was going to be a very different kind of day.
The next morning, you didn't go to the boiler room or the kitchen. You stood outside the heavy mahogany door of the office, your hands wiped clean of grease, though a faint scent of oil still clung to your shirt. You didn't feel nervous, you felt annoyed that you weren't out repairing the cooling system.
You knocked once and entered without waiting for a command.
Crocodile was behind his desk, the golden hook catching the morning light. He didn't look up from his papers immediately, a test of patience you had no intention of failing. When he finally leaned back, his eyes traveled over you, not as a piece of property, but as someone he was finally beginning to understand.
"You're late," he remarked, the smoke from his cigar drifting lazily between you.
"I was finishing a repair on the second floor," you replied, crossing your arms. "If you wanted me here, you shouldn't have broken my schedule."
A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. He stood up, towering over the desk and walked around it until he was standing uncomfortably close to you. He didn't expect you to shrink away, and you didn't, you simply held your ground, staring back with the same steadiness you used when staring down a failing boiler.
He reached out, his gloved hand tracing the air near your jaw, stopping just short of touching your skin. It was a gesture of possessiveness, but his eyes held a flicker of genuine curiosity, the first sign that you were becoming more than a curiosity to him. "You sing every night?"
"When I feel like it," you answered, your gaze remaining fixed on his.
"For yourself?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Who else?"
He was silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted. "A waste," he simply stated, making you frown.
"Most people in this casino spend their lives trying to be seen by me," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the air in the room feel heavy. "You, on the other hand, seem determined to remain a ghost."
"Ghosts are more useful," you said coolly. "They don't get in the way of the work."
"I don't want a ghost anymore," he countered, finally closing the distance to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a sharp contrast to the cold gold of his hook. "I decided that I prefer to end my evenings with music reserved for me." He took aslowdrag from his cigar. "I've tolerated broken pipes, failing boilers, and incompetent staff." He continued, his gaze flicking to the guitar. "But I've no intention of discovering that the only thing in this building capable of silencing it belongs somewhere else."
He stepped back, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze remained.
"So you stay where I can keep an eye on you," he ordered, gesturing toward a chair. "The maintenance team can handle the leaks today. I have a feeling youâre going to be much more occupied with me."
You looked at the chair, then at him, and for the first time, you felt the sharp, electric thrill of being the one thing that Crocodile couldn't quite figure out. You sat down, and for once, the tools stayed in the box. For the first time in years someone else had decided you belonged somewhere other than fixing the next disaster.
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
A/N: thank you for the request @voidwatching1988 "Crocodile and a"Jenny of all trades" type of reader. She isn't flashy like the women who swoon over him or the others, nor does she fall for charms. She sort who isn't really seen or noticed til she is needed and gone when the work is done, but one night he hears her playing a guitar singing. Dark, muddy, like she was calling for the dead or a demon to rise from the depths. Unnerving, but damn does it attract him to her"
Word Count >5.000
Plot: you are the one running rain dinners from the shadows making sure everything is running smoothly. A boiler incident though got you on the rader of the boss and when he overhears you sing one night he finds himself drawn to that voice
Warnings: sfw, use of(Y/N), actually there's nothing muchto be put here, i have no clue how boilers work so sorry if this is totally wrong, not proofread, the lines sung are from the song below
Characters: Sir Crocodile x FReader, cameo by Robin
Rain Dinners woke before the sun did. Not because it wanted to but because it had to and so did you. By dawn, deliveries would start arriving. The kitchens would need supplies. The casino floor would need cleaning. Staff would begin trickling in, half awake and already complaining about the heat.
The building was a beast, really. A massive, hungry thing made of marble, gold, machinery and money. You remembered your first few weeks here, how you got lost and began drawing yourself a map so you wouldnât have to ask for directions. And during that month, you also learnt, that beasts were always breaking something.
Now, nearly two years later, you simply accepted it.
The day started with a leaking faucet in one of the guest restrooms. The night clerk caught you halfway through breakfast. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"No, you're not," you sighed. "Which room?"
"Ladies restroom on the first floor" he said and handed you a key.
You shoved the last bite of toast into your mouth and headed upstairs. The leak turned out to be nothing dramatic, just a pipe that was a bit loose and needed some adjustment. It didnât take you longer than five minutes to fix the problem.
Ten minutes after that, one of the dealers cornered you in the hallway. "Can you look at this?" he asked, holding up a hand wrapped in a blood-stained cloth.
You blinked at him and then pinched the bridge of your nose. "What did you do?"
"I dropped a bottle," he answered and shifted on his feet like a guilty little kid.
"You grabbed the broken glass instead of calling me, didn't you?"
"...Maybe," he mumbled innocently and you sighed deeply.
You pulled him into an empty room before he could drip blood across the expensive carpet and examined his hand. The cut wasn't deep, stupid maybe but not deep. You grabbed the first aid kit cleaned it and then wrapped it up, Threatening to smack him if he removed the bandages before tomorrow.
By the time you escaped, the kitchens were looking for you, again. One of the ovens seemed to refuse to heat properly and the cook swore it was because it was possessed and held a huge grudge against him. You just rolled your eyes and checked it, only to discover that someone had kicked the temperature control panel hard enough to knock a connection loose. Within twenty minutes the oven was cooperating again and worked flawlessly. The cook called you a miracle worker to which you just shook your head and told him that miracles usually required less swearing.
By noon you had repaired a chair, treated a burn, helped unload a shipment of liquor and chased three employees out of a storage closet they were absolutely not supposed to be using for romantic activities.
A completely normal day, at least for you because you didnât know it any differently.
The afternoon heat settled over Rain Dinners like a blanket. Customers flooded the casino floor. Coins clinked, cards were shuffled, customers laughed and cursed, waitresses danced between tables carrying trays balanced on one hand. The whole building was humming and alive and business was exactly how the boss liked itâŠ..good and running.
Which was why the sound caught your attention immediately as you walked down the corridors because that sound was not supposed to be there. It was a metallic groan, rather faint and almost buried beneath the noise. Most people wouldnât have noticed but working here for as long as you did, made you very aware of sounds that were uncommon.
And this particular sound made you freeze, and you focused on it and of course you heard it again. Low and sharp and definitely wrong. Your stomach dropped because now you knew what it was.
Without a word, you abandoned the stack of inventory papers in your hands and headed toward the maintenance corridors as fast as you could. The deeper underground you went, the hotter it became and you already started swearing inwardly. Steam pipes lined the walls. The air smelled metallic and then you heard it, a dangerous hiss, followed by another and another.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The doorknob of the boiler room nearly burned your hand when you turned it and opened the door. Steam was filling the chamber and the pressure gauge was climbing far too high and you tensed. One glance told you everything. A valve had jammed and the backup release had somehow not activated. You knew if the pressure continued building up like this, the resulting explosion would maybe not destroy the whole place but it would start a fire, possibly several. In a building full of alcohol, expensive carpets, wooden furniture and panicking customers.
Wonderful, just wonderful. Oh what a great day. You were dealing with a lot of tough situations each day but this, this was the worst case scenario right now. You moved, crossing the room immediately. The metal housing radiated enough heat to sting through your gloves that you always carried with you and had put on to prevent injuries. The gauge climbed another notch. A loud bang echoed inside the boiler.
Your pulse quickened and you forced your hands to remain steady, they could shake later on but not now. "Okay," you muttered to yourself as you grabbed a wrench. "Let's not explode today."
The machine though seemed to disagree or at least not care about what you wanted. A violent burst of steam shot from a side pipe and you swore as the wrench slipped from your hands. Your sleeve snagged on exposed metal and the pressure gauge continued climbing.
Nobody else was coming, why would there, nobody else even knew what was going on here and maybe it was for the better. At least this way no one would shout in your ear and panic.
For one ridiculous moment you imagined tomorrow's newspaper. Local Casino Destroyed By Angry Boiler. Owner Probably Irritated.
You barked out a laugh despite yourself, knowing that the boss wouldnât just be irritated but more likely furious that no one took care of it. âGet yourself together we can do this,â you encouraged yourself and got back to work.
Five minutes later sweat soaked your shirt. Ten minutes later your hands hurt. Fifteen minutes later the release valve finally moved and a deafening roar erupted from the machine. Steam blasted through the emergency vent and thankfully the pressure gauge began to drop. Slowly yes but steadily. You didnât exhale in relief just yet and instead kept watching it. Waiting, inwardly preparing for it to increase again. Until the needle finally settled back into the safe zone.
You had no clue why you held your breath for a moment but when you heard the boiler rumble peacefully, as though it hadnât nearly turned itself into a bomb, you let out a deep exhale and leaned against the wall. You were exhausted, covered in grime and burned in three separate places. "You're welcome," you muttered to the machine and that stupid thing remained ungrateful, typical.
By the time maintenance supervisors arrived, alerted by delayed system warnings, you were already gathering your tools. One of them stared at the boiler, then at you, then back at the boiler and at you again. "...Did you fix it?" he asked in sheer disbelief.
"Looks that way or do you see someone else here," you said not getting why he looked so stunned.
"You did this by yourself?"
"There wasn't really time to wait," you shrugged.
The man looked pale and you finally understood why. Because now that the danger had passed, the staff would realize exactly how close Rain Dinners had come to becoming a very expensive disaster. You didnât really care and instead picked up your toolbox. "Try replacing the valve assembly before it happens again." Was all you said before you walked out.
There were still three broken lights near the west hallway. And somebody had apparently dislocated a shoulder trying to impress a waitress. Work didn't stop just because you prevented a catastrophe.
The shoulder turned out to be exactly as stupid as advertised. You found the injured man sitting in the employee break room with an ice pack pressed against his arm and a waitress trying very hard not to laugh at him.
"I can explain," he said immediately.
You sighed as if you cared about how that happened. "No," you groaned but he felt the need to tell you the story nonetheless.
"I was attempting a backflip," he explained a bit embarrassed and the waitress couldnât hold her laughter back and snorted. She tried to turn away from the two of you while you pinched the bridge of your nose.
"Why?"
He looked offended at your questions because to him it was obvious. "To impress her," he said vaguely gesturing to the waitress.
You looked at her and she shook her head. "I was impressed before the backflip," she stated.
Oh and that was the moment you almost laughed because the waitress seemed to have just devasted him with those words.
"You're both making this worse," he mumbled slumping a bit into himself and then wincing because of his shoulder.
You sighed and reset the shoulder anyway. His screaming could probably be heard from the casino floor and was definitely not adding to him trying to impress the waitress. Afterwards, you left him with instructions to rest, which he immediately promised to ignore.
Another completely normal interaction.
The sun was setting by the time you finally returned to the maintenance closet that doubled as your workspace. Toolboxes lined the walls. Shelves overflowed with spare parts. Bandages occupied the same cabinet as pipe fittings because there simply wasn't enough room for proper organization. You dropped into a chair and for exactly thirty seconds you could just breathe and relax because then someone knocked. You ran a hand through your hair, staring at the ceiling who didnât offer any assistance. "Come in."
A young waitress poked her head through the doorway and you half expected her to tell you another man injured himself trying to be tough and flirty. "The kitchen sent me."
Well, that was not what you expected yet, also not really surprising either. "What happened?"
"The freezer door won't close," she explained quietly her hands fidgeting a bit with her sleeves as if she felt bad for disturbing you.
You stood up, again, because apparently more than a 30 second rest wasnât in for you today. The waitress winced sympathetically.
"You should probably rest. I can tell the kitchen youâre currently busy," she mumbled and you smiled at her and grabbed your wrench.
"I appreciate it but I'll rest when the building stops trying to kill itself."
She laughed though you werenât entirely joking.
Elsewhere, several floors above your current suffering, Miss All Sunday stood inside Crocodile's office. Not many people were allowed to be there, not many got to see him but she wasnât like anyone else.
The office itself was quiet. The only sounds came from turning paperwork and the faint crackle of a cigar.
Crocodile sat behind his desk. Golden hook gleaming beneath the lamplight and cigar loosely between his lips. His expression was unreadable which was usually not a good sign. He had a report in his hand, his eyes tracing over the words about a boiler incident.
"Explain," was all he said. One word nothing more but Robin was used to it.
"One of the boilers in the underground floors acted up, a valve seemed to have been refusing to work," she explained calmly, repeating the words that the maintenance supervisor told her.
Crocodile's eyes lifted from the report. "The report says a catastrophic failure was avoided."
"Yes."
He took a slow drag from his cigar and looked at Robin. "Why wasnât I informed?" he asked.
Robin smiled softly because she knew that he would probably not like the answer. "Because it had already been handled when the maintenance team arrived."
Silence and his expression shifting, a mix of curiosity and something else. He leaned slightly forward his elbows resting on his desk. "Handled by whom?"
"The clerk," Robin answered, knowing that Crocodile had no clue who she was talking about, she knew that you were usually the one doing the work and then disappearing because you enjoyed being in the shadows.
Crocodile's gaze narrowed exhaling a deep plum of smoke. "The one from the report?" he asked and Robin nodded. He stared at the report he had read it but flipped it open again nonetheless:
Single employee responded. Single employee repaired malfunction. Single employee prevented shutdown. Single employee prevented potential fire. Single employee left before whole team arrived.
It read less like a maintenance report and more like a bizarre folk tale. One clerk wandering around solving disasters.
"Tell me his name," he ordered Robin and she smiled a bit wider.
"Her name," she corrected and definitely enjoyed his reaction when he found out, that the one doing the heavy lifting and the dirty work was a girl. "(Y/N)" she added.
"Whatâs her position here? Clerk is a wide range," he said after a moment.
"Various," Robin answered. "She assists maintenance, also kitchen operations, first aid, unloading of shipments, inventory, she repairs gaming tables occasionally, basically sheâs doing everything at once."
Crocodile stared and leaned back slowly. The movement somehow felt more threatening than shouting. "So." His voice remained calm. "Rain Dinners employs a woman whose official position appears to be everywhere without being seen," he huffed taking another drag from his cigar, smoke drifting through the room. He looked back down at the report and Robin didnât miss how his expression had shifted into something close to curiosity, not because the employee existed because people like that existed everywhere, competent workers, useful workers, reliable workers but that wasnât the reason. No, what interested him, was that this one had managed to remain invisible from him.
Rain Dinners was his, despite Robin being the manager, every department, every manager, every profitable venture was his. He knew where money and supplies moved. He knew which employees excelled, which stole, which lied, well mostly because usually Miss All Sunday would point that out to him, but still he knew the people who worked under him. Yet somehow there was a woman walking through his casino plugging holes before anyone even noticed they existed.
That was unusual and unusual things warranted attention. "Have her personnel file delivered. And then tell me why you didnât tell me about her earlier," he grumbled lowly.
Robin wasnât intimidated though, she just remained calm and relaxed. "As you wish," she whispered and then turned to leave.
The office door shut and silence returned. Crocodile glanced once more at the report. Prevented major infrastructure failure, potential fire avoided, business uninterrupted. A corner of the paper had been stained with grease. Probably from whoever wrote it or perhaps from the woman herself, he didnât know but he didnât care. There were more important matters to address. Kingdoms to manipulate, rebellions to monitor, organizations to command and one anonymous employee wasn't worth dwelling on.
At least that was what he told himself.
Three hours later, after fixing the freezer door, replacing two light fixtures and treating a cook who had somehow sliced his thumb while cutting bread, you finally escaped. The desert air greeted you the moment you stepped outside. It was cooler now, almost gentler. The stars stretched endlessly overhead. For the first time all day, nobody was looking for you. There were no emergencies, no repairs and no disasters.
You sat on an empty supply crate behind the building and let out a long breath. The quiet felt strange and almost unfamiliar. Most people spent their days chasing excitement. You spent yours chasing problems. Maybe that was why silence always felt like borrowed time. You rolled your shoulders and stared out across the moonlit sands.
Tomorrow would bring another broken pipe, another injury, another crisis because something was always happening. Things broke and someone had to fix them. You had never really minded being that someone. Even if most people forgot your name five minutes later. The desert wind stirred your hair and for now it didnât matter, you could worry about it tomorrow. Now you just wanted to spend a few more minutes here before heading back inside.
Far above, in an office overlooking Rain Dinners, a single light still burned. And behind that window sat a man currently reading your personnel file for the third time. Though neither of you knew it yet, that ordinary day had quietly become the beginning of something neither of you would be able to ignore forever.
By the time you climbed the narrow staircase leading to the staff quarters, Rain Dinners still glittered beneath you.
Music drifted from the casino floor, coins clattered and laughter echoed through the polished halls. The guests were most likely gambling till sunrise while you had finally reached the door to your own sanctuary because you had clearly reached your limit for today.
Your room sat tucked away in an older section of the building where servants and maintenance workers lived. It was small, clean and enough. You had a narrow bed standing against one wall, a wardrobe occupied the opposite corner and a single window overlooked the town. You didnât need a grand room or luxury to make it feel comfy, you just needed it to be yours. And you needed your guitar.
It leaned beside the bed, itâs wood scarred from years of use and one tuning peg had been replaced by hand. The finish had worn away where fingers rested most often. It wasnât beautiful in the aesthetic way but it was beautiful to you because it had always been with you.
You set your toolbox on the floor with a dull thud. Your hands stung, there was grease beneath your nails and a burn across your wrist where steam had kissed your skin earlier that afternoon. With practiced ease, you lifted the guitar into your lap and settled beside the open window. Cool desert air slipped inside.
Your fingers found the strings without thought. A slow melody spilled into the night. Soft, gentle, nothing like the noisy chaos downstairs. You closed your eyes and the tension in your shoulders eased little by little. The building seemed possibly far away, the tasks, the work everything seemed to blur away in this moment because now it was just you and your guitar. You played until your eyelids grew heavy, then carefully returned the instrument to it's place beside the bed.
Tomorrow would come early and youâd have to fix things, look after them, patch people up and just be the shadow that was everywhere and nowhere at once. But it was okay. You didnât need the spotlight you just needed to know that your work was appreciated and that even though most didnât even know your name you were still part of this, you were still the one to keep the machine running.
The next morning began with a clogged sink, followed by a missing inventory ledger, a roulette wheel that refused to spin properly and that all before lunch. By afternoon, a water line burst beneath the east hallway. By evening, your shirt was streaked with dust and oil, your hair had escaped whatever attempt you had made to tame it, and someone had shoved half a sandwich into your hands because they had noticed you hadn't stopped long enough to eat. You took two bites while tightening a loose pipe, it was a luxury really.
By the time you staggered back upstairs, long after sunset, every muscle in your body protested. You washed the soot from your face as best you could, changed into an old shirt and opened the window before you reached for your guitar. This time the melody though was different. It was lower, slower, rolling through the room like thunder. Your fingers pulled sounds from the strings that seemed older than the world itself. The notes lingered, heavy and almost haunting. The kind of song travellers might sing around dying campfires. Without realizing it, you began to sing. Your voice wasn't polished, you knew that, it wasnât delicate. No, it carried gravel, it sounded deep, a voice shaped by lonely nights and it fit the song perfectly.
Outside your window, the desert listened. So did someone else. Not far away, Crocodile emerged from his office after another night buried beneath reports and ledgers. The casino had quieted, only a handful of staff remained awake. He intended to retire for the evening but then music reached him. And it wasnât the music from the casino. He stopped, the melody floated through the marble halls, slipping through the hallway like the smoke of his cigar.
The voice carried another verse, this time it was deeper, muddier, enough to raise the hair along the back of his neck and it sounded like it was performing for the desert and not an audience. He found himself turning toward it before he had consciously decided to. Step by measured step, he followed the sound through corridors he rarely walked, towards a forgotten corner of his own establishment, a small room occupied by someone whose name had only appeared on his desk that morning. He did not know why he kept walking. Only that, for the first time in weeks, something inside Rain Dinners had captured his attention completely and he intended to see what it was.
The melody never faltered. Your fingers moved from memory alone, gliding over worn strings, polished smooth by years of use. The room was dark save for the lantern burning low on your bedside table. Itâs warm glow spilled across faded floorboards and the open window where the desert breeze drifted through thin curtains.
And so you sang.
"When the door opened wide, a man stood inside and said come in out of the rain..."
Your voice carried softly into the corridor, heavy with old stories and older warnings. Outside your door, footsteps slowed and then stopped right at your door.
"His eyes were dark like the eyes of a shark, his face was neither young nor old..."
Crocodile stood motionless. The hallway behind him was silent. Only the distant sounds of Rain Dinners remained but none of it reached him, not in this moment because now only the song did. It sounded less like entertainment and more like an old tale being remembered. One passed from generation to generation until nobody recalled where it had begun.
"I paused for a beat before moving my feet and crossing that wide threshold..."
His cigar had burned nearly to the filter and he hadnât even noticed. He found himself mesmerized, standing before a plain wooden door tucked into a servants' corridor, listening as though any movement might break the spell.
"It was a summer night and a fire burned bright, but I began to shiver and shake..."
An amused thought crossed his mind. An old song about a dangerous stranger. How fitting. A corner of his mouth twitched upward. Not quite a smile but something very close to it.
"He gave me a coat of fur, a smile demur, and a plate full of devil's food cake..."
The lantern inside cast your shadow against the wall.
You kept playing and singing, completely unaware that the owner of Rain Dinners stood scarcely a few feet away. For the first time since he had learned your name, Crocodile saw not the indispensable worker everyone relied upon. He saw a woman alone with something she loved. And what struck him even harder was that you werenât performing for someone else, you had no expectations or desire for praise, you just did this forâŠ..yourself. Just you, an old guitar and a voice that sounded as though it belonged to the night itself.
"He sat down on a chair like a lion in his lair and lit up a thin cigar..."
His gaze instinctively dropped to the cigar between his fingers. The irony was so precise it was almost unsettling. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if you had somehow known he was there but the thought vanished as quickly as it came.
No, you didnât because you continued playing without hesitation, without faltering for a second and without a single glance towards the doorway. You were indeed completely oblivious to his presence. That, somehow, fascinated him more than if you'd gasped or stumbled over the words. Every woman who entered his casino knew who he was. They stared, whispered, some sought his favor, others feared him. You didn't even know he was listening. He remained where he was until the last note faded into silence.
Only then did the floorboard beneath his polished shoe creak. Your fingers stilled against the strings and you turned your head, your eyes finally found the tall figure standing quietly in the doorway. Neither of you spoke as smoke culred lazily upward from the cigar between his fingers.
It almost seemed as though the song had called him there and neither of you knew what to make of that. You didn't gasp. You didn't scramble to your feet or drop your guitar in a panic.
You simply sat there, your fingers resting lightly over the strings to mute their quiet hum. You recognized him, of course. It was impossible not to know the man who owned the very walls you kept from crumbling. You took in the heavy coat, the golden hook gleaming in the low light, and the cigar trapped between his teeth.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound was the distant desert wind. "Is something leaking on the top floor?" you finally asked, your voice still carrying the rough, gravelly edge from your song.
A heavy exhale of smoke escaped Crocodileâs lips, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a sharp, genuine smirk. Any other woman in this building would be smoothing her hair, batting her eyelashes, or trembling out an apology. You were just wondering if you needed to grab your wrench again.
"No," he rumbled, his deep voice filling the small, cramped room. "The top floor is perfectly intact."
"Good." You leaned back against the window frame, not breaking eye contact. "Because I'm off the clock."
Crocodile took a slow step into the room, his towering frame making the modest space feel suddenly entirely too small. He didn't look at the grease beneath your nails or the soot smudged across your cheek. His dark eyes were fixed entirely on your face, analyzing you with the calculating intensity of a predator who had just discovered an entirely new breed of prey.
"A single employee," he began, his tone smooth and quiet, "who prevents major infrastructure failures, repairs gaming tables, patches up bleeding staff and disappears before anyone can thank her." He paused, his gaze dropping briefly to the worn instrument in your lap. "And then summons demons in the dark."
"I wasn't summoning demons," you replied plainly. "Just playing."
"It sounded like a warning."
"Maybe it was." You met his stare head-on, completely immune to the heavy, intimidating aura he naturally projected. "The building tries to kill itself every day. You learn to stay on your toes."
Crocodile chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in the quiet room. He had empires to run, rebellions to fund, and millions of berries to manage. Yet, looking at you, unimpressed, unbothered and entirely capable, he realized he hadn't been this fascinated by anything in years. You weren't a shiny, flashy distraction. You were the foundation holding the floorboards together, dark and steady.
"Tomorrow," he said, turning back toward the doorway, the heavy fabric of his coat swishing softly. He paused at the threshold, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Leave the maintenance calls to the rest of the staff. You will report to my office."
You raised an eyebrow. "Is a pipe broken in there?"
"No," Crocodile replied, his smirk returning, darker and more promising this time. "But I have a sudden appreciation for old songs. And I expect my employees to cater to my interests."
He didn't wait for your answer. He simply stepped back out into the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor until they faded entirely.
You sat in the quiet for a moment, listening to the hum of the casino far below. You looked at the door, then down at your calloused, grease-stained hands. With a heavy sigh, you carefully set your guitar down. Tomorrow was going to be a very different kind of day.
The next morning, you didn't go to the boiler room or the kitchen. You stood outside the heavy mahogany door of the office, your hands wiped clean of grease, though a faint scent of oil still clung to your shirt. You didn't feel nervous, you felt annoyed that you weren't out repairing the cooling system.
You knocked once and entered without waiting for a command.
Crocodile was behind his desk, the golden hook catching the morning light. He didn't look up from his papers immediately, a test of patience you had no intention of failing. When he finally leaned back, his eyes traveled over you, not as a piece of property, but as someone he was finally beginning to understand.
"You're late," he remarked, the smoke from his cigar drifting lazily between you.
"I was finishing a repair on the second floor," you replied, crossing your arms. "If you wanted me here, you shouldn't have broken my schedule."
A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. He stood up, towering over the desk and walked around it until he was standing uncomfortably close to you. He didn't expect you to shrink away, and you didn't, you simply held your ground, staring back with the same steadiness you used when staring down a failing boiler.
He reached out, his gloved hand tracing the air near your jaw, stopping just short of touching your skin. It was a gesture of possessiveness, but his eyes held a flicker of genuine curiosity, the first sign that you were becoming more than a curiosity to him. "You sing every night?"
"When I feel like it," you answered, your gaze remaining fixed on his.
"For yourself?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Who else?"
He was silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth lifted. "A waste," he simply stated, making you frown.
"Most people in this casino spend their lives trying to be seen by me," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the air in the room feel heavy. "You, on the other hand, seem determined to remain a ghost."
"Ghosts are more useful," you said coolly. "They don't get in the way of the work."
"I don't want a ghost anymore," he countered, finally closing the distance to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a sharp contrast to the cold gold of his hook. "I decided that I prefer to end my evenings with music reserved for me." He took aslowdrag from his cigar. "I've tolerated broken pipes, failing boilers, and incompetent staff." He continued, his gaze flicking to the guitar. "But I've no intention of discovering that the only thing in this building capable of silencing it belongs somewhere else."
He stepped back, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze remained.
"So you stay where I can keep an eye on you," he ordered, gesturing toward a chair. "The maintenance team can handle the leaks today. I have a feeling youâre going to be much more occupied with me."
You looked at the chair, then at him, and for the first time, you felt the sharp, electric thrill of being the one thing that Crocodile couldn't quite figure out. You sat down, and for once, the tools stayed in the box. For the first time in years someone else had decided you belonged somewhere other than fixing the next disaster.
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
It had been a brutal week: work, friends, and the pipe that burst in your apartment and took a professional two full days to fix. Maybe you shouldn't have come this time. But how could you say no to the best part of your week? How could you turn down the now-ritual Friday plan with your coworker? Dinner and documentaries at his place. Perfection if someone asked you.
And it wasn't just that the documentaries were interesting -they were, the most fascinating ones you'd ever seen, in fact - but it was everything that happened before he hit play. The way he made sure you were comfortable. His how has your week been? The way his royal blue eyes held your gaze while you answered.
But tired was an understatement tonight. As fascinating as the theory of traveling through wormholes was, your eyelids had taken on a weight of approximately ten kilos each, and the blanket that had practically been assigned to you by now did the rest.
When you opened your eyes, you were in a bed. Impossibly big. Your body tucked under fresh sheets, your head resting on a pillow that smelled like him. The blanket from the couch was still keeping you warm. You sat up and looked around. There was no sign that the bed had been occupied by anyone other than you last night. Looking more closely, there wasn't a trace of another woman having been in the room⊠at least not in some time.
You stood up and noticed a folded green t-shirt beside you. There was a note placed neatly on top of it.
You fell asleep. If you want something fresh to change into, feel free to wear this.
âFuck,â you muttered, utterly embarrassed by the situation.
You unfolded the t-shirt and a smile showed at your lips. It read I'm cold-blooded and I am proud. You were not going to do it. Something in you knew that if you put it on and walked out of that room, you'd be crossing a line you didn't know yet whether you should cross. And still, you couldn't help holding it up against you, just to see how it would look⊠and blushed when you saw that the hem fell well past your knees.
Stepping over your shoes, perfectly aligned one with the other in front of the door, you made your way across the living room. The coffee table had been cleared of last night's remains. On the couch, there was a makeshift bed with a blanket you'd never seen before, older and more faded than yours.
It was in the kitchen that you found him, his back wide enough to block the stove from view. He smelled of deodorant, had his hair wet and combed back, and was wearing a fresh and loose T-shirt.
"Good morning", you said, and he startled, nearly losing his grip on the pan handle.
"Good morning," he greeted back, cheeks turning pink as his blue eyes nervously scanned your T-shirt, revealing for the briefest moment and almost imperceptibly, what looked like⊠mild disappointment?
"Sorry, we never finished the episode," you hurried to say.
"Oh, don't apologize," he clumsily waved the frying pan. "I'm the one who insisted on watching more when you were dead on your feet."
For longer than was socially acceptable, the two of you simply looked at each other, neither saying anything beyond what your shy smiles could convey, until he started blushing again.
"Hungry? I'm making pancakes." He quickly turned back to the stove.
"Oh! That sounds amazing, thanks!" you took a seat at the kitchen table.
In front of you, there was already a plate with at least six pancakes. Perfect, round, and fluffy. Beside it, a cup of coffee with the Germa 66 logo printed on it. You hadnât tried it yet, but it smelled far better than what came out of the machine at work. On the other side of the table, where you assumed was his place, there was a mug labeled âSword Captainâ and another plate of pancakes. Ruined, lopsided, and some slightly burnt around the edges.
You looked at the broad back of this man who was trying so hard to give you the best of himself. His shirt was a little damp down the middle, right where his hair dripped. An arm as wide as three of yours reached out to grab more flour.
It was oat.
You wondered what would happen if you got up and slid yourself between him and the stove. What would happen if you lifted your chin and offered him your mouth. Would he grip your waist and hoist you up onto the counter? Would he claim you for himself like that damned komodo dragon in heat? You were in his house, he was being hospitable, and a gentleman, so you felt ashamed for thinking again about how big his bed was. Would he be okay with spending some time each night, before the documentaries, exploring other things?
Oh, he was indeed a mystery of the solar system himself, the one you most wanted to unravel. To learn what sounds he'd make if you ripped his shirt off, if you bit down on his neck and locked your bare thighs around his sides. Would he be willing to sacrifice one or two episodes each time? He did seem very into them...
"Drake," you summoned every last bit of courage you had and then some, "do you have plans later?"
He turned toward you, hooked nose dusted with flour from where he must have scratched it earlier.
"No," he lied. "Why?"
And now you suggested something you had never done before.
The unthinkable.
The unspeakable.
Meeting on a Saturday.
"Just in case you want to finish yesterdayâs episode."
This little series is so fucking entertaining and hot. How i love awkward and sweet Drake. Kinda like a gentleman who overthinks everything which is adorable đđ„°
And i will never be able to look at komodo dragon's like a normal person again đ đ€
Oh and those naughty naught thoughts...... it's like you can read my mind đ€đđ« đ
Quincy is, along with Dive, my favorite Kid Pirate girl! She seems so bright and eccentric, I just love her energy. And actually, she and Hip are Dawnâs best friends aboard the Victoria Punk ^^
Would you please look at her absolutely adorable face. Like she looks so damn happy it makes me happy, damn i love her expression. Oh god i wanna hug her and be friends with her. I definitely get why she's one of Dawn's best friends âșïžâșïžđđđđ
This is another masterpiece and i love love love your drawings. đđđđ
oh my god that is so damn adorable đđđđ i love love love it.
those eyes đ„°đ„°đ„°đ„° and that cute nose and aaah i love the ears and....and everything đđđđđ and the very good looking goggles i wonder where those have come from đđ
A/N: thank you @furifuri04 for the idea and for letting me write this story. It turned out a 4 part one. Damn this chapter got way longer than I wanted it to be and I had to split it in two so this story will have at least 4 chapters
Word Count > 6000
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Plot: after your accident you finally wake up but you have trouble with your memory and unfortunately you also struggle to remember the man you used to love and it broke him every time.
Warnings: sfw, established relationship, hurt, angst, reader injured, memory loss, Shanks having a small breakdown , use of (Y/N), not proofread
Characters: Shanks x FReader, cameos by Beckman, Hongo and some other crew members
You felt like you were stuck in a dreamless sleep that you couldn't escape from. The first time you opened your eyes, it felt like surfacing through water, like you could finally breathe again despite everything being heavy. Your body, your thoughts, even the air in your lungs all felt like it was draining your of your energy. A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, spreading slowly through your skull like something was trying to break free.
ââŠ(Y/N)?â The voice was soft and careful and you could have sworn there was something hopeful and familiar in it.
You blinked, vision blurred, shapes melting together before slowly sharpening. A man sat beside you, red hair, tired eyes, a hand wrapped tightly around yours like he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. âHey⊠hey, there you are,â he breathed, his voice cracking despite the smile he tried to force. âTook you long enough.â
You stared at him for a long moment then frowned slightly and your lips parted, but your voice came out dry and unfamiliar. ââŠwhoâŠ?â
The word was barely audible but it hit like a cannon blast and everything and everyone in the room seemed to freeze. Shanks didnât move, he didnât breathe and didnât even blink. ââŠwhat?â he asked, though he had heard you. He had heard you way too clearly.
Your brows knitted together as you looked at him, confusion deepening. Your fingers twitched weakly in his grasp, like you were unsure why he was holding you at all. âIâŠâ You swallowed, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. âI donât⊠know you.â
Your words seemed to stop the whole world from spinning. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating and painful. It was as if you had just unintentionally shattered someoneâs world with one simple sentence.
Shanksâ grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. ââŠthatâs not funny,â he said quietly, almost pleading. âCome on, love⊠donât do that,â he added his eyes holding something in them that made your heart tighten despite not being sure who he even was.Â
'Love' he had called you and the way he had said it, so naturally, so intimately, like he truly meant what he had said, like he was used to say it to you made you flinch because it felt like it belonged to you, like you belonged to him while you, you had no clue what was going on. âIâm sorryâŠâ you whispered, voice trembling now. âShould IâŠ?â You asked, your eyes darted around the room, panic slowly creeping in. âI donât remember.â
That was the exact moment something inside him broke. Not loudly, nor dramatically, but quietly and unbelievably painful to witness. It was like a rope that had held the love between you two alive was now snapped in two.Â
Shanksâ shoulders slumped and Beckman and Hongo exchanged a heavy look. âHongo.â Beckman breathed, voice low and firm, wanting to know what was going on.
The doctor didnât answer immediately, his eyes still focused on you as he checked your pulse, your pupils and your reactions, all while Shanks seemed to remain frozen while not once letting go of your hand. Even now, as you avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of his attention.
âItâs a symptom of the head trauma,â Hongo finally said, calm but serious. âMemory loss isnât uncommon. It could be temporary⊠or it could come and go.â
ââŠcome and go?â Shanks echoed, voice hollow.
Hongo nodded slightly. âShe might have moments of clarity. And moments like this.â
Shanks looked back at you and it was as if a knife was twisted in his heart as you lookedâŠ..scared of him. Those wide eyes meeting his was hurting him more than anything else.
âDonât panic boss, it doesnât have to be like this. Weâll have to see and I promise Iâll do everything in my powers to help you both through this, we all will,â Hongo chimed in as he placed a hand on his Captainâs shoulder.Â
Beckman who had been watching you closely exhaled a plum of smoke and then carefully stepped a bit closer to you. âIâm Beckman, this is your doctor Hongo and this is, Shanks, the Captain of this ship. Youâre in good hands here so donât be scared. You hurt your head and we are making sure youâre healing well,â he explained to you to calm you down a bit.
You looked warily between the three men and then exhaled softly. âOkay,â you breathed, still a bit tense but as you reached your hand up and felt the bandage around your head you were at least a bit relieved that it seemed they werenât lying and you had truly injured yourself.Â
Just as you started to relax the door to the infirmary burst open and in stumbled Lucky Roux, Limejuice and Yasopp wanting to come see how you were doing and their rather loud and unceremoniously entrance startled you. âFor heavenâs sake are you three insane? I told you to be quiet and careful not burst in here like the ship is on fire,â Hongo scolded as you looked wide eyed at the three new faces.
âSorry we just wanted to see how she was doing and if you needed anything, Roux has made some stew and we wanted to see if you were hungry,â Yasopp apologized as he looked at you and gave a careful smile.
â(Y/N), weâre glad youâre awake howâs the head?â Roux asked looking at you and you bit your lip looking from him to Shanks as if asking for help.Â
âOkay out, all of you, come onâ Beckman suddenly chimed in, ushering Limejuice, Yasopp and Roux out the door to explain to them what was going on and leaving you with Hongo and Shanks so you wouldnât be too overwhelmed right now.Â
âTheyâre loud,â you mumbled feeling slightly scared and uneasy.Â
Shanks smiled softly at you, hearing your voice was, despite the lack of your memory, still like balm to his soul. âYeah they are but theyâre part of our crew, they are your friends like Hongo and Beckman.â
âOh okay,â you breathed and then looked at Shanks. âYou said they were friends like Hongo and Beckman but what about you? Arenât you my friend too?â you asked softly voice raspy and throat dry as Hongo handed you a glass of water which you took gratefully.Â
Shanks swallowed unsure what to say and exchanged a look with Hongo who nodded as if giving him permission to tell you the truth. âWell we are a bitâŠ..more than friends,â was all Shanks said for now, not wanting to make this mess even more overwhelming for you.
Your eyes widened, this time not in fear though and you finally understood why he had called you âloveâ before and the hurt look in his eyes. You felt bad, really, as if it was your fault you didnât remember him. â...sorry,â you mumbled and he gave a soft, whereas forced smile.Â
âItâs okay, for now all that matters is that you are awake,â he said though it pained him. To him it was not really okay because the fear of losing the one person he truly, deeply loved with all his heart was something he just couldnât live with. But he knew that right now you needed to feel like everything was going to be fine.Â
The next day, everything changed again. You were sitting in the bed after waking up and threading your fingers through Shanksâ messy hair. When he stirred and looked up at you he was met with your warm, loving smile. âGood morning boss,â you said softly and let your hand glide from his hair to his cheek cupping it gently. âYou look like hell and my head, it kinda hurts, care to explain what happened because the last thing I remember is getting hit by something during the storm.â Shanks blinked confused at first but then let out a sigh of relief that almost sounded like a sob and it made you tense. âOkay I didnât know it had been that bad.â
Shanks smiled and reached his hand up to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. âYou scared me, got hit rather hard on the head, love. Iâm glad your head is thick,â he tried to joke before he leaned in and kissed you deeply just as Hongo came in to check on you and paused in surprise at the doorway.
âGood morning you two, sorry to interrupt,â he smiled and walked to the cabinet to get his instruments to check on you. âOkay boss, how about you get your hand and lips off her for a moment so I can check on her,â Hongo added, approaching you a bit warily. He was glad to see you like this after yesterdayâs display but he also knew that it wasnât a reason to celebrate yet but it was a good sign that you were better today and with your memory intact. He did a quick check up and was rather satisfied with you for now. âEverythingâs fine, you only got a parasite who seems to cling to your lips,â he teased referring to Shanks who couldnât stop pampering you with kisses out of relief.Â
When you were distracted later on with brushing your teeth in bed Hongo made it clear to Shanks that it was for the best to not tell you about the memory loss, about the way you had been yesterday fearing it would stress you and put too much pressure on you that could trigger unwanted responses from your head and the crew agreed to it. Your health was now top priority and Shanks, he was too busy cherishing to have you back even though Hongo reminded him that this could be temporary.
For now though everyone just enjoyed having you back. You laughed, talked and it was as if nothing had happened and Shanks simply enjoyed every second of it as you two kept talking and bantering. âWaitâthatâs not true, you fell asleep during that meeting,â you said, grinning as you nudged him lightly, when he recalled the story of the one time he had drank too much and fell asleep during the meeting the next day.
Shanks stared at you like you were something unreal. ââŠyou remember that?â he asked carefully.
You blinked at him. âOf course I do? How could I forget? You sat next to me and you, my dear, might be a real eyecandy but you snore when nursing a hangover. Loudly,â you laughed.Â
There it was, that sweet melody of your laughter, that beautiful smile and that teasing tone that Shanks loved so much about you. It was as if nothing had ever happened, like yesterday hadnât shattered him completely. Shanks let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently, almost hesitantly. âYouâre⊠youâre okay?â he asked warily.Â
You leaned into his touch instinctively. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
And just like that, hope came rushing back, hope that he had you back. That you were getting better, that you would keep your memory and never again forget him or your family here.Â
But fate was cruel and hope didnât last.Â
Two days later, you woke up, still in the infirmary because Hongo didnât want you to leave yet and you felt disoriented again. Not as bad as the first day, not fully gone this time, just fractured.Â
ââŠShanks?â you murmured, your voice unsure, like you were testing the name.
Shanks, who had moved into the infirmary for now, leaned forward immediately. âYeah, yeahâI'm here, love.â
Your gaze softened slightly in recognition but it didnât fully settle. âI⊠know you,â you said slowly. âBut⊠itâs fuzzy. Like a dream I canât quite remember.â
Shanks swallowed hard, forcing a gentle smile. âThatâs okay. You donât have to rush it,â he said trying to be reassuring and hiding the panic that was brewing up inside of him. Fear that you were going to forget about him entirely again.
You looked at him, really looked this time and tilted your head a tiny bit, carefully not to make the world spin again. ââŠyouâre important to me, arenât you?â you asked quietly, studying his features.
That question nearly destroyed him because it was bordering exactly that line between remembering and forgetting. He laughed softly but it wasn't as hearty and wholesome as usually. âYeah,â he whispered. âYeah, Iâd like to think so.â
âGood,â you whispered, âyou have beautiful eyes, they made something tug at me, like they wanted to remind me,â you continued with a content sigh and Shanks tried not to break down and instead simply placed a kiss to your forehead. Â
Days blurred together after that, some were good, some were bad, some were something in between. There were days where you clung to him like nothing had changed, laughing with the crew, teasing him, stealing kisses like before. And days where you looked at him like he was a stranger or worse like you werenât even sure who you were yourself.
âWhere⊠am I?â you asked one evening, your voice small as you sat on the edge of the bed.
Shanks froze in the doorway as he entered the infirmary after Beckman and Hongo had practically dragged him to get to the galley and eat. âYouâre on my ship,â he said gently, approaching slowly, like he didnât want to startle you. âYouâre safe here.â
ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, looking down at your hands. âAnd IâmâŠ?â
His chest tightened, how he hated that switching between good, bad and horrible. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said, softer now. âYouâre⊠everything, honestly.â
You looked up at him, eyes glassy with confusion and something dangerously close to fear. âI donât feel like anything,â you whispered.
He stared at you for a long agonizing moment trying to find words but nothing came out he couldnât think of anything to say right now that wouldn't make this situation worse. But your words stayed with him. Long after you fell asleep, long after the crew had gone quiet, long after Hongo had done his evening check up on you and long after the sea itself seemed to be still around him.Â
That night, Shanks sat alone on the deck after Hongo offered to look after you and promised Shanks that he would call him if something was happening or changing.
Shanks had a bottle beside him, untouched for now and probably for the first time in his life. Beckman approached quietly, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the railing beside him. ââŠthis isnât something you can fight,â Beckman said after a while.
Shanks let out a bitter laugh. âIâve fought worse.â
âNo,â Beckman replied calmly. âYou havenât,â he added and what followed was silence. Long and heavy because Shanks knew he was right.Â
ââŠshe looked at me today like I was nothing,â Shanks muttered. âLike I didnât exist.â
Beckman exhaled slowly. âAnd yesterday she couldnât stop smiling at you.â
âThatâs the problem,â Shanks snapped, his voice cracking. âI get her backâand then I lose her all over again.â He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into something deeper. âI donât know which version of her Iâm going to wake up to and itâs worse than losing her completely because I get to hope. The good days, they make me feel like it could get better, like everything was going to be fine from now on, only for the next day to have her ripped from me again. ItâsâŠ..hard.â
Beckman didnât respond immediately because there wasnât a comforting answer to give and Beckman wasnât someone to sweet talk something he couldnât because he knew Shanks was right, hope was more cruel than fear. He looked at Shanks for a long time and then reached out a hand and placed it around Shanksâ shoulders because that was the only comfort he could offer his Captain in that moment.Â
Back in the infirmary, you stirred in your sleep. Your fingers twitched against the sheets. A quiet murmur slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ Hongo looked up at your quiet words and placed the book about neurological treatments after trauma down. He reached out a hand and placed it on your forehead making you let out an almost content sigh. âHold on, little one, we need you here, Shanks needs you,â he whispered carefully before settling back in his chair and picking up the book again.
The next day was like one of the good days. You had remembered him, not perfectly and not completely but enough to know who he was, where you were and to remember the crew and your first time being chased by marines. It was enough to smile at him like you used to, enough to leave the infirmary and have dinner with everyone, enough to let your fingers occasionally curl into the fabric of his shirt like it was instinct and enough to kiss him. Not like a stranger and not like you couldnât remember him, no the kiss was like it used to be, it was soft, familiar and real. And that was what had nearly undone him.Â
And then, just like that it was gone again because you had collapsed shortly after without any warning. Your words started to slur, your balance failing you, confusion flooding your expression so suddenly it was terrifying to watch.
Hongo moved immediately and took you from Shanks' arm and rushed you back to the infirmary. Immediately checking on you, giving you some pharmaceutics and keeping a close eye on you. Shanks followed him hastily, his eyes full of fear and Beckman was behind him just to make sure Shanks didnât collapse himself. âSheâs having another episode, another fluctuation,â Hongo explained, not looking away from you as he moved to stabilize you and Beckmanâs hand shot out to steady Shanks. âShe needs rest.â
How Shanks dreaded that word. Rest. Thatâs all it ever was. Rest. He didnât want to see you rest all day, he didnât want you to be doomed to always be near this god damn bed. He wanted to go see the world with you. To take you on dates. To show you another cave again, just you and him. But all he could do was wait. And it killed him because no matter what, he couldnât fight this with all his power, he was damned to wait, to let you rest. To get his hopes high only to have them crushed again while he had to watch you break and then repeat the cycle.Â
He stayed with you as Hongo finally managed to steady you. The crew didnât want to leave Shanks alone with you tonight though and were doing a rotation to stay. Hongo stayed first followed by Beckman then Limejuice, Roux, Howling Gab and so on until the sun went down and Shanks insisted that they didnât have to stay that he could handle it. Â
With the crew gone the ship was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every thought louder. Shanks didn't handled it well. Not this time and for the first time he had asked Beckman to stay with you because he needed some air.Â
On deck Shanks looked at the crates full of rum and his feet moved automatically towards it. He grabbed the bottle and opened it taking a big sip, then another. The bottle in his hand was nearly empty by the time he made it down the corridor.
His steps werenât steady. Not the confident, grounded walk of a Yonko, but just⊠a man. A man who was losing the person he loved piece by piece and himself with her.Â
The infirmary door creaked open as he stepped inside. Beckmanâs head turned and one look at Shanks told him that he had been drinking. But for once Beckman didnât scold him, not this time, it wasnât an excuse but he knew that Shanks needed this.Â
âYou can go now Beck, thanks for staying,â Shanks mumbled towards his first mate who wanted to argue that it would be better if he stayed but decided against it and instead got up placed a hand on Shanksâ shoulder as he passed him and told him to call if he needed anything.Â
Shanks approached you, not bothering to be quiet. He didn't bother pretending he was okay because he wasnât and with only you in the room there was no one left to be fooled.Â
You lay exactly the way Hongo had laid you down. Still, so damn still. The soft rise and fall of your chest was the only thing tethering you to him anymore. Shanks stood there for a moment just looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize every detail, every line of your face, every strand of your hair, as if even that could be taken from him.
ââŠhey, love.â he rasped his voice rough and unsteady. Nothing like the man you knew. He stumbled slightly as he moved closer, dragging the chair beside your bed even closer before practically dropping into it. For a second, he just⊠sat there, silently and then his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours, tracing over them lightly and carefully. He smiled your skin still so soft.Â
And then all of a sudden everything shattered inside him. A mix of fury, fear and hurt washing over him ââŠthis isnât funny anymore.â A weak laugh left him, but it broke halfway through. His grip tightened around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to wake you up through touch alone. âYouâve⊠youâve had your fun, alright?â he muttered, voice cracking. âYou can stop now, this isn't a joke anynore.â
But of course there was nothing coming from you. No reaction, no teasing reply, no stuck out tongue or a soft smile. Nothing but silence was all there was.Â
His head dropped forward, shoulders trembling. ââŠI'm sorry I didn't mean to.....I just donât know what to do,â he whispered this time quieter than before. No sign of the strong Yonko. âIâve fought emperors⊠faced down death more times than I can countâŠâ he choked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. âBut this? This is what takes me down?â
His hand dragged over his face, but it didnât stop the tears that finally slipped through, uncontrolled and impossible to be held back any longer. The man who had been through hell but came out smiling every time was for the first time in his life utterly lost and fearing that he was finally facing a battle he wasnât sure he could win.Â
âDo you rememberâŠ?â He asked, his voice softening and so damn fragile now. Like he was afraid even speaking too loudly would break whatever invisible thread still connected you. âThat little cove I showed you?â he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, while his tears kept falling freely. âYou said the water looked like glass⊠said if we stayed there long enough, the world might forget us.â
A shaky breath left him. âI told you I wouldnât mind that,â he mumbled his lips trembling slightly. ââŠlong as I had you.â He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, your hand still trapped in his. âYou always laughed at me when I got sentimental,â he whispered. âSaid I was too soft for a pirate.â A faint, broken smile flickered across his face. ââŠbut you loved it, you loved that I was this soft for you,â he said and his voice cracked again. âYou loved me and nowâŠ.now everything is broken.âÂ
Tears fell again, some trickling down onto your hand as he held it close, pressing his cheek against it to feel your warmth till the tears stopped. But all that answered him was silence, again, as always. No âI still love you, jerkâ. Just this heavy silence again. Â
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt just enough to feel like everything was fine, like you were justâŠ..sleeping. âCome back to me,â he whispered, more desperate now. âPlease⊠justâjust come back.â His head lowered until his forehead pressed against the back of your hand, his shoulders shaking harder now. âI donât care if you forget everything else,â he choked out. âForget the crew, forget the ship, forgetâhell, forget the entire damn worldâ,â he shouted, his voice breaking completely. âBut not me.â A single hot tear slipped down onto your hand, âDonât forget meâŠ,â he pleaded.Â
The room suddenly felt smaller, heavier. Like it couldnât hold everything he was pouring into it. âI was going to ask you something,â he murmured after a moment, voice quieter and hollow. âWe were supposed to go back to that cove. I'd have called it a date, butâŠâ He let out a shaky breath. âThat wouldn't have been all.â
His fingers tightened slightly around yours. âI was going to ask you to stay. Not just on the shipââ his voice faltered, emotion catching in his throat. ââbut with me. Properly,â he continued a weak laugh escaping his lips. âI mean⊠you already have my heart, donât you?â he muttered. âFigured it was about time I made it official.â
His head lifted slightly, red-rimmed eyes locking onto your unmoving face. ââŠyou were going to say yes and I would have been the luckiest bastard in the grand line.â It wasnât a question. It was something he needed to believe, something to remind him what he was fighting for. âDonât take that away from me too. Donât leave me behind,â he pleaded.Â
For a long moment, he just stared at you. Like he was waiting, praying and begging for anything. A twitch that you had heard him, a hitch of your breath that you were still in there, a sign that you were okay and still loved him. But nothing came.Â
His composure finally gave out completely. Shanks leaned forward, carefully, almost reverently, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing weakly against your cheek. âI canât do this without you,â he admitted, voice barely audible now. âI donât want to.â Another breath hitched in his chest. âYouâre⊠youâre everything, (Y/N). Iâve already lost so much donât make me add you to that list.â
His lips hovered near your temple for a moment before pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. ââŠso donât you dare leave me here alone.â
For a second, just a second, your fingers twitched in his grasp. Faintly, barely there but real and Shanks froze. His breath catching and that dangerous, fragile and terrifying hope was flaring back up in his chest as he took it as a sign that you had truly heard him. ââŠ(Y/N)?â He asked warily but no response.Â
But he didnât let go, he couldnât, not ever because he had to claw at these tiny moments, these straws to not break completely. He had to tell himself that it wasnât over because if he didnât, he knew his world would plunge into darkness. ââŠ(Y/N)?â
Shanks didnât breathe. Didnât dare to move. His entire world narrowed down to that one tiny movement of your fingers. That barely there twitch in his grasp that felt like a fragile signal from somewhere far away. â(Y/N)âŠ?â he tried for the third time now, softer this time, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke too loud.
For a second, nothing happened and he felt that old cruel hurt flare up again. That painful moment where hope was ripped from him until suddenly your lashes fluttered, slow and unsteady, like it took everything in you just to open your eyes.
Relief hit him so hard it was almost painful. âHeyâhey, thatâs it,â he breathed, immediately leaning closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. âCome on, love⊠Iâm right here.â
Your eyes opened. They were a bit clouded and unfocused though. But to Shanks it was enough to let a small smile tug at his lips, it was a bit broken, it was tear-streaked, desperate but it was real.Â
âThere you are,â he whispered. âTook you long enough,â he breathed, relief washing over him. His thumb brushed gently against your skin, grounding, familiar, something he had done a thousand times before. Something that had always made you lean into him.
But not this time, instead your brows pulled together and a flicker of confusion crossed your face. Followed by discomfort and then something sharper. Your head shifted weakly against the pillow, your gaze trying to track him like he was something you couldnât quite place.
ââŠwhoâŠ?â The word was faint and barely there but it landed like a blade straight throug his chest. He had just spilled his heart out to you, prayed, begged and pleaded for you to come back and as you did the fragile hope that had flared up in his chest was now ripped from him once again and you were back at that dreadful place again.Â
His smile didnât fall right away, it just stopped being there. Like his face didnât quite understand what he had just heard. Like he couldnât believe that after everything he had just said you could be back at zero. ââŠhey,â he said quietly, softer now, like maybe you just needed a moment. âItâs me.â
But your expression didnât change, if anything it only got worse - more confused and more uncertain. You looked down and saw your hand in his. You had no clue why or what was going on and when your hand twitched it wasnât to reach for him or tighten the grip, no it was to pull away from the stranger sitting next of you.Â
Shanks felt it and he stared in utter disbelief because that, that hurt. That was another blow he wasnât prepared for, another reminder that he could still lose you forever. ââŠ(Y/N),â he tried again, voice tight, barely holding together. âItâs Shanks.â
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him but there was nothing. You didnât know who this man was, the name didnât remind you of anyone. There was no recognition and no warmth spreading through you. There was only distance.Â
âI donâtâŠâ you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted over his face like you were trying to force something to click. âI donât know you.â
There it was again. Clearer this time. And the worst, it sounded final, making something inside him snap. Not loudly, not violently, just like something was gone now. His grip loosened and he released your hand slowly and carefully. Like letting go of you too fast might break something even worse. ââŠyeah,â he murmured under his breath, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. âRight⊠right,â he huffed, hurt and frustrated and leaned back slightly, putting just enough space between you to stop overwhelming you. But even now, even like this, even with you throwing blow after blow at him, unintentionally of course, he didnât stop thinking about you, letting his thoughts revolve around you.Â
You watched him give you space and you tried to figure him out but your brain wouldnât let you. It was as if there was a curtain before it that you couldnât remove. You tried harder and harder but nothing, the curtain wouldnât budge. Your breathing started to pick up and become uneven and your body tensed like his presence alone made you uncomfortable.
ââŠwhere am I?â you asked, your voice small, fragile in a completely different way.
Shanks swallowed hard but forced his own unease. âThe Red Force,â he answered quietly. âMy ship.â
You blinked at him confused. ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, like the words didnât mean anything. Your gaze dropped to your own hands and you looked at them like they didnât belong to you. ââŠand IâmâŠ?â
That question. Again. Shanks closed his eyes for a second, just one. Because if he didnât he wasnât sure heâd be able to hold it together at all. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said finally, voice softer than it had ever been. âYouâre⊠you,â he added leaving everything else out. Sure it felt wrong, incomplete, but he couldnât bring himself to say more. Not when you were looking at him like he was a stranger, like he was nothing to you.Â
Your lips parted slightly. ââŠI donât feel like anyone,â you admitted quietly.
The words hit harder this time. Because now he was right in front of you. Watching your spiraling happen step by step. A sharp breath left him before he could stop it. His hand curled slightly against his knee, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. ââŠthatâs okay,â he said, though it sounded strained. âYou donât have to figure it out right now, we all feel lost sometimes.â
Your eyes flickered back to him, hesitant and careful ââŠwhy were you holding my hand?â you asked almost innocently with those wide eyes.Â
That nearly broke him all over again. He stared at you for a moment. At the girl who had once clung to him without hesitation, who had laughed with him, teased him, loved him so openly it had felt like the easiest thing in the world. And now you were asking him why he had touched you. Something that had been so normal, was now something you didnât understand.Â
Shanks forced a small, tight smile. The kind that didnât reach his eyes but he hoped that in your state right now it wouldnât matter and that you wouldnât see through it anyways. ââŠI thought it might help,â he said quietly. âSometimes it does.â
It wasnât a lie. Just⊠not the full truth. Not the truth he couldnât say out loud without falling apart in front of you. But it was enough for you now and you seemed to accept that. You were too tired to question it further because your eyes drifted slightly, exhaustion pulling at you again.
Shanks noticed immediately, of course he did, he noticed everything about you. ââŠyou should rest,â he murmured, his voice instinctively dropping despite everything. âYour bodyâs still recovering.â
Your gaze lingered on him for a second longer, you were searching for something, something that seemed to be missing, like he was a puzzle that you were missing some pieces but you found nothing.Â
ââŠokay,â you whispered, not fighting the exhaustion anymore.Â
He stood slowly, like every movement took effort, like his body didnât quite belong to him anymore. For a brief second, it looked like he might reach for you again but he stopped himself. His hand hovering in the air before falling back to his side.
ââŠIâll be nearby,â he said instead. âIn case you need anything.â
You didnât answer. Your eyes had already started to close again. Shanks stood there for a moment longer. Just watching you, like he was trying to memorize you all over again. This version of you, the one that didnât know him. Before he turned and walked out the alcohol in his blood seemed to have been drained out of him from this conversation, this confession and that cruel reality.Â
For the first time he didnât sleep in the infirmary with you and when the door closed softly behind him, his composure shattered. His back hit the wall in the hallway, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook violently. A broken sound forced its way out anyway. ââŠshe asked me who I was, againâŠâ The words barely made it out. Like saying them would make it too real.
Down the hall, footsteps approached. ââŠShanksââ Beckman stopped short when he saw him before walking faster towards him.Â
Shanks dragged a hand down his face, but it didnât help. Nothing did. âShe was justââ his voice cracked again, frustration and grief tangling together. ââshe was just there, Beck. Right in front of me and sheââ He laughed but there was nothing remotely humorous about it. ââshe didnât even hesitate, I poured my heart out and she, she looked at me like I was nothing again.â
Beckman exhaled slowly, stepping closer but not crowding him.
ââŠand tomorrow?â he said quietly. Shanks shook his head, a hollow smile pulling at his lips. âTomorrow she might love me again,â he rasped because that was the worst part. ââŠand Iâll let her,â he added, voice breaking completely now. âEvery time because I canât imagine a life without her.â
Beckman could feel the pain Shanks was going through. The crew, everyone wanted you back, you were family and they loved you all but the worst was seeing their Captain like this. The man who was usually such a charmer, who was loud, joyful and smiling was now reduced to this. The sight was gnawing at Beckman and he didnât hesitate, he pulled Shanks in and just held him and for the first time Shanks let himself be held by his first mate.Â
Only when Shanks calmed down a bit did Beckman let go and call for Lucky Roux and Hongo, telling them to get Shanks to his cabin and give him something so he could for once sleep while promising Shanks that he would look after you.Â
Back in the infirmary you shifted slightly in your sleep. Your fingers curling faintly against the sheets. A whisper slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ
to be continued.....
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito @preeyas-world (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
A/N: thank you @furifuri04 for the idea and for letting me write this story. It turned out a 4 part one. Damn this chapter got way longer than I wanted it to be and I had to split it in two so this story will have at least 4 chapters
Word Count > 6000
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Plot: after your accident you finally wake up but you have trouble with your memory and unfortunately you also struggle to remember the man you used to love and it broke him every time.
Warnings: sfw, established relationship, hurt, angst, reader injured, memory loss, Shanks having a small breakdown , use of (Y/N), not proofread
Characters: Shanks x FReader, cameos by Beckman, Hongo and some other crew members
You felt like you were stuck in a dreamless sleep that you couldn't escape from. The first time you opened your eyes, it felt like surfacing through water, like you could finally breathe again despite everything being heavy. Your body, your thoughts, even the air in your lungs all felt like it was draining your of your energy. A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, spreading slowly through your skull like something was trying to break free.
ââŠ(Y/N)?â The voice was soft and careful and you could have sworn there was something hopeful and familiar in it.
You blinked, vision blurred, shapes melting together before slowly sharpening. A man sat beside you, red hair, tired eyes, a hand wrapped tightly around yours like he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. âHey⊠hey, there you are,â he breathed, his voice cracking despite the smile he tried to force. âTook you long enough.â
You stared at him for a long moment then frowned slightly and your lips parted, but your voice came out dry and unfamiliar. ââŠwhoâŠ?â
The word was barely audible but it hit like a cannon blast and everything and everyone in the room seemed to freeze. Shanks didnât move, he didnât breathe and didnât even blink. ââŠwhat?â he asked, though he had heard you. He had heard you way too clearly.
Your brows knitted together as you looked at him, confusion deepening. Your fingers twitched weakly in his grasp, like you were unsure why he was holding you at all. âIâŠâ You swallowed, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. âI donât⊠know you.â
Your words seemed to stop the whole world from spinning. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating and painful. It was as if you had just unintentionally shattered someoneâs world with one simple sentence.
Shanksâ grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. ââŠthatâs not funny,â he said quietly, almost pleading. âCome on, love⊠donât do that,â he added his eyes holding something in them that made your heart tighten despite not being sure who he even was.Â
'Love' he had called you and the way he had said it, so naturally, so intimately, like he truly meant what he had said, like he was used to say it to you made you flinch because it felt like it belonged to you, like you belonged to him while you, you had no clue what was going on. âIâm sorryâŠâ you whispered, voice trembling now. âShould IâŠ?â You asked, your eyes darted around the room, panic slowly creeping in. âI donât remember.â
That was the exact moment something inside him broke. Not loudly, nor dramatically, but quietly and unbelievably painful to witness. It was like a rope that had held the love between you two alive was now snapped in two.Â
Shanksâ shoulders slumped and Beckman and Hongo exchanged a heavy look. âHongo.â Beckman breathed, voice low and firm, wanting to know what was going on.
The doctor didnât answer immediately, his eyes still focused on you as he checked your pulse, your pupils and your reactions, all while Shanks seemed to remain frozen while not once letting go of your hand. Even now, as you avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of his attention.
âItâs a symptom of the head trauma,â Hongo finally said, calm but serious. âMemory loss isnât uncommon. It could be temporary⊠or it could come and go.â
ââŠcome and go?â Shanks echoed, voice hollow.
Hongo nodded slightly. âShe might have moments of clarity. And moments like this.â
Shanks looked back at you and it was as if a knife was twisted in his heart as you lookedâŠ..scared of him. Those wide eyes meeting his was hurting him more than anything else.
âDonât panic boss, it doesnât have to be like this. Weâll have to see and I promise Iâll do everything in my powers to help you both through this, we all will,â Hongo chimed in as he placed a hand on his Captainâs shoulder.Â
Beckman who had been watching you closely exhaled a plum of smoke and then carefully stepped a bit closer to you. âIâm Beckman, this is your doctor Hongo and this is, Shanks, the Captain of this ship. Youâre in good hands here so donât be scared. You hurt your head and we are making sure youâre healing well,â he explained to you to calm you down a bit.
You looked warily between the three men and then exhaled softly. âOkay,â you breathed, still a bit tense but as you reached your hand up and felt the bandage around your head you were at least a bit relieved that it seemed they werenât lying and you had truly injured yourself.Â
Just as you started to relax the door to the infirmary burst open and in stumbled Lucky Roux, Limejuice and Yasopp wanting to come see how you were doing and their rather loud and unceremoniously entrance startled you. âFor heavenâs sake are you three insane? I told you to be quiet and careful not burst in here like the ship is on fire,â Hongo scolded as you looked wide eyed at the three new faces.
âSorry we just wanted to see how she was doing and if you needed anything, Roux has made some stew and we wanted to see if you were hungry,â Yasopp apologized as he looked at you and gave a careful smile.
â(Y/N), weâre glad youâre awake howâs the head?â Roux asked looking at you and you bit your lip looking from him to Shanks as if asking for help.Â
âOkay out, all of you, come onâ Beckman suddenly chimed in, ushering Limejuice, Yasopp and Roux out the door to explain to them what was going on and leaving you with Hongo and Shanks so you wouldnât be too overwhelmed right now.Â
âTheyâre loud,â you mumbled feeling slightly scared and uneasy.Â
Shanks smiled softly at you, hearing your voice was, despite the lack of your memory, still like balm to his soul. âYeah they are but theyâre part of our crew, they are your friends like Hongo and Beckman.â
âOh okay,â you breathed and then looked at Shanks. âYou said they were friends like Hongo and Beckman but what about you? Arenât you my friend too?â you asked softly voice raspy and throat dry as Hongo handed you a glass of water which you took gratefully.Â
Shanks swallowed unsure what to say and exchanged a look with Hongo who nodded as if giving him permission to tell you the truth. âWell we are a bitâŠ..more than friends,â was all Shanks said for now, not wanting to make this mess even more overwhelming for you.
Your eyes widened, this time not in fear though and you finally understood why he had called you âloveâ before and the hurt look in his eyes. You felt bad, really, as if it was your fault you didnât remember him. â...sorry,â you mumbled and he gave a soft, whereas forced smile.Â
âItâs okay, for now all that matters is that you are awake,â he said though it pained him. To him it was not really okay because the fear of losing the one person he truly, deeply loved with all his heart was something he just couldnât live with. But he knew that right now you needed to feel like everything was going to be fine.Â
The next day, everything changed again. You were sitting in the bed after waking up and threading your fingers through Shanksâ messy hair. When he stirred and looked up at you he was met with your warm, loving smile. âGood morning boss,â you said softly and let your hand glide from his hair to his cheek cupping it gently. âYou look like hell and my head, it kinda hurts, care to explain what happened because the last thing I remember is getting hit by something during the storm.â Shanks blinked confused at first but then let out a sigh of relief that almost sounded like a sob and it made you tense. âOkay I didnât know it had been that bad.â
Shanks smiled and reached his hand up to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. âYou scared me, got hit rather hard on the head, love. Iâm glad your head is thick,â he tried to joke before he leaned in and kissed you deeply just as Hongo came in to check on you and paused in surprise at the doorway.
âGood morning you two, sorry to interrupt,â he smiled and walked to the cabinet to get his instruments to check on you. âOkay boss, how about you get your hand and lips off her for a moment so I can check on her,â Hongo added, approaching you a bit warily. He was glad to see you like this after yesterdayâs display but he also knew that it wasnât a reason to celebrate yet but it was a good sign that you were better today and with your memory intact. He did a quick check up and was rather satisfied with you for now. âEverythingâs fine, you only got a parasite who seems to cling to your lips,â he teased referring to Shanks who couldnât stop pampering you with kisses out of relief.Â
When you were distracted later on with brushing your teeth in bed Hongo made it clear to Shanks that it was for the best to not tell you about the memory loss, about the way you had been yesterday fearing it would stress you and put too much pressure on you that could trigger unwanted responses from your head and the crew agreed to it. Your health was now top priority and Shanks, he was too busy cherishing to have you back even though Hongo reminded him that this could be temporary.
For now though everyone just enjoyed having you back. You laughed, talked and it was as if nothing had happened and Shanks simply enjoyed every second of it as you two kept talking and bantering. âWaitâthatâs not true, you fell asleep during that meeting,â you said, grinning as you nudged him lightly, when he recalled the story of the one time he had drank too much and fell asleep during the meeting the next day.
Shanks stared at you like you were something unreal. ââŠyou remember that?â he asked carefully.
You blinked at him. âOf course I do? How could I forget? You sat next to me and you, my dear, might be a real eyecandy but you snore when nursing a hangover. Loudly,â you laughed.Â
There it was, that sweet melody of your laughter, that beautiful smile and that teasing tone that Shanks loved so much about you. It was as if nothing had ever happened, like yesterday hadnât shattered him completely. Shanks let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently, almost hesitantly. âYouâre⊠youâre okay?â he asked warily.Â
You leaned into his touch instinctively. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
And just like that, hope came rushing back, hope that he had you back. That you were getting better, that you would keep your memory and never again forget him or your family here.Â
But fate was cruel and hope didnât last.Â
Two days later, you woke up, still in the infirmary because Hongo didnât want you to leave yet and you felt disoriented again. Not as bad as the first day, not fully gone this time, just fractured.Â
ââŠShanks?â you murmured, your voice unsure, like you were testing the name.
Shanks, who had moved into the infirmary for now, leaned forward immediately. âYeah, yeahâI'm here, love.â
Your gaze softened slightly in recognition but it didnât fully settle. âI⊠know you,â you said slowly. âBut⊠itâs fuzzy. Like a dream I canât quite remember.â
Shanks swallowed hard, forcing a gentle smile. âThatâs okay. You donât have to rush it,â he said trying to be reassuring and hiding the panic that was brewing up inside of him. Fear that you were going to forget about him entirely again.
You looked at him, really looked this time and tilted your head a tiny bit, carefully not to make the world spin again. ââŠyouâre important to me, arenât you?â you asked quietly, studying his features.
That question nearly destroyed him because it was bordering exactly that line between remembering and forgetting. He laughed softly but it wasn't as hearty and wholesome as usually. âYeah,â he whispered. âYeah, Iâd like to think so.â
âGood,â you whispered, âyou have beautiful eyes, they made something tug at me, like they wanted to remind me,â you continued with a content sigh and Shanks tried not to break down and instead simply placed a kiss to your forehead. Â
Days blurred together after that, some were good, some were bad, some were something in between. There were days where you clung to him like nothing had changed, laughing with the crew, teasing him, stealing kisses like before. And days where you looked at him like he was a stranger or worse like you werenât even sure who you were yourself.
âWhere⊠am I?â you asked one evening, your voice small as you sat on the edge of the bed.
Shanks froze in the doorway as he entered the infirmary after Beckman and Hongo had practically dragged him to get to the galley and eat. âYouâre on my ship,â he said gently, approaching slowly, like he didnât want to startle you. âYouâre safe here.â
ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, looking down at your hands. âAnd IâmâŠ?â
His chest tightened, how he hated that switching between good, bad and horrible. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said, softer now. âYouâre⊠everything, honestly.â
You looked up at him, eyes glassy with confusion and something dangerously close to fear. âI donât feel like anything,â you whispered.
He stared at you for a long agonizing moment trying to find words but nothing came out he couldnât think of anything to say right now that wouldn't make this situation worse. But your words stayed with him. Long after you fell asleep, long after the crew had gone quiet, long after Hongo had done his evening check up on you and long after the sea itself seemed to be still around him.Â
That night, Shanks sat alone on the deck after Hongo offered to look after you and promised Shanks that he would call him if something was happening or changing.
Shanks had a bottle beside him, untouched for now and probably for the first time in his life. Beckman approached quietly, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the railing beside him. ââŠthis isnât something you can fight,â Beckman said after a while.
Shanks let out a bitter laugh. âIâve fought worse.â
âNo,â Beckman replied calmly. âYou havenât,â he added and what followed was silence. Long and heavy because Shanks knew he was right.Â
ââŠshe looked at me today like I was nothing,â Shanks muttered. âLike I didnât exist.â
Beckman exhaled slowly. âAnd yesterday she couldnât stop smiling at you.â
âThatâs the problem,â Shanks snapped, his voice cracking. âI get her backâand then I lose her all over again.â He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into something deeper. âI donât know which version of her Iâm going to wake up to and itâs worse than losing her completely because I get to hope. The good days, they make me feel like it could get better, like everything was going to be fine from now on, only for the next day to have her ripped from me again. ItâsâŠ..hard.â
Beckman didnât respond immediately because there wasnât a comforting answer to give and Beckman wasnât someone to sweet talk something he couldnât because he knew Shanks was right, hope was more cruel than fear. He looked at Shanks for a long time and then reached out a hand and placed it around Shanksâ shoulders because that was the only comfort he could offer his Captain in that moment.Â
Back in the infirmary, you stirred in your sleep. Your fingers twitched against the sheets. A quiet murmur slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ Hongo looked up at your quiet words and placed the book about neurological treatments after trauma down. He reached out a hand and placed it on your forehead making you let out an almost content sigh. âHold on, little one, we need you here, Shanks needs you,â he whispered carefully before settling back in his chair and picking up the book again.
The next day was like one of the good days. You had remembered him, not perfectly and not completely but enough to know who he was, where you were and to remember the crew and your first time being chased by marines. It was enough to smile at him like you used to, enough to leave the infirmary and have dinner with everyone, enough to let your fingers occasionally curl into the fabric of his shirt like it was instinct and enough to kiss him. Not like a stranger and not like you couldnât remember him, no the kiss was like it used to be, it was soft, familiar and real. And that was what had nearly undone him.Â
And then, just like that it was gone again because you had collapsed shortly after without any warning. Your words started to slur, your balance failing you, confusion flooding your expression so suddenly it was terrifying to watch.
Hongo moved immediately and took you from Shanks' arm and rushed you back to the infirmary. Immediately checking on you, giving you some pharmaceutics and keeping a close eye on you. Shanks followed him hastily, his eyes full of fear and Beckman was behind him just to make sure Shanks didnât collapse himself. âSheâs having another episode, another fluctuation,â Hongo explained, not looking away from you as he moved to stabilize you and Beckmanâs hand shot out to steady Shanks. âShe needs rest.â
How Shanks dreaded that word. Rest. Thatâs all it ever was. Rest. He didnât want to see you rest all day, he didnât want you to be doomed to always be near this god damn bed. He wanted to go see the world with you. To take you on dates. To show you another cave again, just you and him. But all he could do was wait. And it killed him because no matter what, he couldnât fight this with all his power, he was damned to wait, to let you rest. To get his hopes high only to have them crushed again while he had to watch you break and then repeat the cycle.Â
He stayed with you as Hongo finally managed to steady you. The crew didnât want to leave Shanks alone with you tonight though and were doing a rotation to stay. Hongo stayed first followed by Beckman then Limejuice, Roux, Howling Gab and so on until the sun went down and Shanks insisted that they didnât have to stay that he could handle it. Â
With the crew gone the ship was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every thought louder. Shanks didn't handled it well. Not this time and for the first time he had asked Beckman to stay with you because he needed some air.Â
On deck Shanks looked at the crates full of rum and his feet moved automatically towards it. He grabbed the bottle and opened it taking a big sip, then another. The bottle in his hand was nearly empty by the time he made it down the corridor.
His steps werenât steady. Not the confident, grounded walk of a Yonko, but just⊠a man. A man who was losing the person he loved piece by piece and himself with her.Â
The infirmary door creaked open as he stepped inside. Beckmanâs head turned and one look at Shanks told him that he had been drinking. But for once Beckman didnât scold him, not this time, it wasnât an excuse but he knew that Shanks needed this.Â
âYou can go now Beck, thanks for staying,â Shanks mumbled towards his first mate who wanted to argue that it would be better if he stayed but decided against it and instead got up placed a hand on Shanksâ shoulder as he passed him and told him to call if he needed anything.Â
Shanks approached you, not bothering to be quiet. He didn't bother pretending he was okay because he wasnât and with only you in the room there was no one left to be fooled.Â
You lay exactly the way Hongo had laid you down. Still, so damn still. The soft rise and fall of your chest was the only thing tethering you to him anymore. Shanks stood there for a moment just looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize every detail, every line of your face, every strand of your hair, as if even that could be taken from him.
ââŠhey, love.â he rasped his voice rough and unsteady. Nothing like the man you knew. He stumbled slightly as he moved closer, dragging the chair beside your bed even closer before practically dropping into it. For a second, he just⊠sat there, silently and then his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours, tracing over them lightly and carefully. He smiled your skin still so soft.Â
And then all of a sudden everything shattered inside him. A mix of fury, fear and hurt washing over him ââŠthis isnât funny anymore.â A weak laugh left him, but it broke halfway through. His grip tightened around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to wake you up through touch alone. âYouâve⊠youâve had your fun, alright?â he muttered, voice cracking. âYou can stop now, this isn't a joke anynore.â
But of course there was nothing coming from you. No reaction, no teasing reply, no stuck out tongue or a soft smile. Nothing but silence was all there was.Â
His head dropped forward, shoulders trembling. ââŠI'm sorry I didn't mean to.....I just donât know what to do,â he whispered this time quieter than before. No sign of the strong Yonko. âIâve fought emperors⊠faced down death more times than I can countâŠâ he choked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. âBut this? This is what takes me down?â
His hand dragged over his face, but it didnât stop the tears that finally slipped through, uncontrolled and impossible to be held back any longer. The man who had been through hell but came out smiling every time was for the first time in his life utterly lost and fearing that he was finally facing a battle he wasnât sure he could win.Â
âDo you rememberâŠ?â He asked, his voice softening and so damn fragile now. Like he was afraid even speaking too loudly would break whatever invisible thread still connected you. âThat little cove I showed you?â he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, while his tears kept falling freely. âYou said the water looked like glass⊠said if we stayed there long enough, the world might forget us.â
A shaky breath left him. âI told you I wouldnât mind that,â he mumbled his lips trembling slightly. ââŠlong as I had you.â He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, your hand still trapped in his. âYou always laughed at me when I got sentimental,â he whispered. âSaid I was too soft for a pirate.â A faint, broken smile flickered across his face. ââŠbut you loved it, you loved that I was this soft for you,â he said and his voice cracked again. âYou loved me and nowâŠ.now everything is broken.âÂ
Tears fell again, some trickling down onto your hand as he held it close, pressing his cheek against it to feel your warmth till the tears stopped. But all that answered him was silence, again, as always. No âI still love you, jerkâ. Just this heavy silence again. Â
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt just enough to feel like everything was fine, like you were justâŠ..sleeping. âCome back to me,â he whispered, more desperate now. âPlease⊠justâjust come back.â His head lowered until his forehead pressed against the back of your hand, his shoulders shaking harder now. âI donât care if you forget everything else,â he choked out. âForget the crew, forget the ship, forgetâhell, forget the entire damn worldâ,â he shouted, his voice breaking completely. âBut not me.â A single hot tear slipped down onto your hand, âDonât forget meâŠ,â he pleaded.Â
The room suddenly felt smaller, heavier. Like it couldnât hold everything he was pouring into it. âI was going to ask you something,â he murmured after a moment, voice quieter and hollow. âWe were supposed to go back to that cove. I'd have called it a date, butâŠâ He let out a shaky breath. âThat wouldn't have been all.â
His fingers tightened slightly around yours. âI was going to ask you to stay. Not just on the shipââ his voice faltered, emotion catching in his throat. ââbut with me. Properly,â he continued a weak laugh escaping his lips. âI mean⊠you already have my heart, donât you?â he muttered. âFigured it was about time I made it official.â
His head lifted slightly, red-rimmed eyes locking onto your unmoving face. ââŠyou were going to say yes and I would have been the luckiest bastard in the grand line.â It wasnât a question. It was something he needed to believe, something to remind him what he was fighting for. âDonât take that away from me too. Donât leave me behind,â he pleaded.Â
For a long moment, he just stared at you. Like he was waiting, praying and begging for anything. A twitch that you had heard him, a hitch of your breath that you were still in there, a sign that you were okay and still loved him. But nothing came.Â
His composure finally gave out completely. Shanks leaned forward, carefully, almost reverently, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing weakly against your cheek. âI canât do this without you,â he admitted, voice barely audible now. âI donât want to.â Another breath hitched in his chest. âYouâre⊠youâre everything, (Y/N). Iâve already lost so much donât make me add you to that list.â
His lips hovered near your temple for a moment before pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. ââŠso donât you dare leave me here alone.â
For a second, just a second, your fingers twitched in his grasp. Faintly, barely there but real and Shanks froze. His breath catching and that dangerous, fragile and terrifying hope was flaring back up in his chest as he took it as a sign that you had truly heard him. ââŠ(Y/N)?â He asked warily but no response.Â
But he didnât let go, he couldnât, not ever because he had to claw at these tiny moments, these straws to not break completely. He had to tell himself that it wasnât over because if he didnât, he knew his world would plunge into darkness. ââŠ(Y/N)?â
Shanks didnât breathe. Didnât dare to move. His entire world narrowed down to that one tiny movement of your fingers. That barely there twitch in his grasp that felt like a fragile signal from somewhere far away. â(Y/N)âŠ?â he tried for the third time now, softer this time, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke too loud.
For a second, nothing happened and he felt that old cruel hurt flare up again. That painful moment where hope was ripped from him until suddenly your lashes fluttered, slow and unsteady, like it took everything in you just to open your eyes.
Relief hit him so hard it was almost painful. âHeyâhey, thatâs it,â he breathed, immediately leaning closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. âCome on, love⊠Iâm right here.â
Your eyes opened. They were a bit clouded and unfocused though. But to Shanks it was enough to let a small smile tug at his lips, it was a bit broken, it was tear-streaked, desperate but it was real.Â
âThere you are,â he whispered. âTook you long enough,â he breathed, relief washing over him. His thumb brushed gently against your skin, grounding, familiar, something he had done a thousand times before. Something that had always made you lean into him.
But not this time, instead your brows pulled together and a flicker of confusion crossed your face. Followed by discomfort and then something sharper. Your head shifted weakly against the pillow, your gaze trying to track him like he was something you couldnât quite place.
ââŠwhoâŠ?â The word was faint and barely there but it landed like a blade straight throug his chest. He had just spilled his heart out to you, prayed, begged and pleaded for you to come back and as you did the fragile hope that had flared up in his chest was now ripped from him once again and you were back at that dreadful place again.Â
His smile didnât fall right away, it just stopped being there. Like his face didnât quite understand what he had just heard. Like he couldnât believe that after everything he had just said you could be back at zero. ââŠhey,â he said quietly, softer now, like maybe you just needed a moment. âItâs me.â
But your expression didnât change, if anything it only got worse - more confused and more uncertain. You looked down and saw your hand in his. You had no clue why or what was going on and when your hand twitched it wasnât to reach for him or tighten the grip, no it was to pull away from the stranger sitting next of you.Â
Shanks felt it and he stared in utter disbelief because that, that hurt. That was another blow he wasnât prepared for, another reminder that he could still lose you forever. ââŠ(Y/N),â he tried again, voice tight, barely holding together. âItâs Shanks.â
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him but there was nothing. You didnât know who this man was, the name didnât remind you of anyone. There was no recognition and no warmth spreading through you. There was only distance.Â
âI donâtâŠâ you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted over his face like you were trying to force something to click. âI donât know you.â
There it was again. Clearer this time. And the worst, it sounded final, making something inside him snap. Not loudly, not violently, just like something was gone now. His grip loosened and he released your hand slowly and carefully. Like letting go of you too fast might break something even worse. ââŠyeah,â he murmured under his breath, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. âRight⊠right,â he huffed, hurt and frustrated and leaned back slightly, putting just enough space between you to stop overwhelming you. But even now, even like this, even with you throwing blow after blow at him, unintentionally of course, he didnât stop thinking about you, letting his thoughts revolve around you.Â
You watched him give you space and you tried to figure him out but your brain wouldnât let you. It was as if there was a curtain before it that you couldnât remove. You tried harder and harder but nothing, the curtain wouldnât budge. Your breathing started to pick up and become uneven and your body tensed like his presence alone made you uncomfortable.
ââŠwhere am I?â you asked, your voice small, fragile in a completely different way.
Shanks swallowed hard but forced his own unease. âThe Red Force,â he answered quietly. âMy ship.â
You blinked at him confused. ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, like the words didnât mean anything. Your gaze dropped to your own hands and you looked at them like they didnât belong to you. ââŠand IâmâŠ?â
That question. Again. Shanks closed his eyes for a second, just one. Because if he didnât he wasnât sure heâd be able to hold it together at all. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said finally, voice softer than it had ever been. âYouâre⊠you,â he added leaving everything else out. Sure it felt wrong, incomplete, but he couldnât bring himself to say more. Not when you were looking at him like he was a stranger, like he was nothing to you.Â
Your lips parted slightly. ââŠI donât feel like anyone,â you admitted quietly.
The words hit harder this time. Because now he was right in front of you. Watching your spiraling happen step by step. A sharp breath left him before he could stop it. His hand curled slightly against his knee, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. ââŠthatâs okay,â he said, though it sounded strained. âYou donât have to figure it out right now, we all feel lost sometimes.â
Your eyes flickered back to him, hesitant and careful ââŠwhy were you holding my hand?â you asked almost innocently with those wide eyes.Â
That nearly broke him all over again. He stared at you for a moment. At the girl who had once clung to him without hesitation, who had laughed with him, teased him, loved him so openly it had felt like the easiest thing in the world. And now you were asking him why he had touched you. Something that had been so normal, was now something you didnât understand.Â
Shanks forced a small, tight smile. The kind that didnât reach his eyes but he hoped that in your state right now it wouldnât matter and that you wouldnât see through it anyways. ââŠI thought it might help,â he said quietly. âSometimes it does.â
It wasnât a lie. Just⊠not the full truth. Not the truth he couldnât say out loud without falling apart in front of you. But it was enough for you now and you seemed to accept that. You were too tired to question it further because your eyes drifted slightly, exhaustion pulling at you again.
Shanks noticed immediately, of course he did, he noticed everything about you. ââŠyou should rest,â he murmured, his voice instinctively dropping despite everything. âYour bodyâs still recovering.â
Your gaze lingered on him for a second longer, you were searching for something, something that seemed to be missing, like he was a puzzle that you were missing some pieces but you found nothing.Â
ââŠokay,â you whispered, not fighting the exhaustion anymore.Â
He stood slowly, like every movement took effort, like his body didnât quite belong to him anymore. For a brief second, it looked like he might reach for you again but he stopped himself. His hand hovering in the air before falling back to his side.
ââŠIâll be nearby,â he said instead. âIn case you need anything.â
You didnât answer. Your eyes had already started to close again. Shanks stood there for a moment longer. Just watching you, like he was trying to memorize you all over again. This version of you, the one that didnât know him. Before he turned and walked out the alcohol in his blood seemed to have been drained out of him from this conversation, this confession and that cruel reality.Â
For the first time he didnât sleep in the infirmary with you and when the door closed softly behind him, his composure shattered. His back hit the wall in the hallway, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook violently. A broken sound forced its way out anyway. ââŠshe asked me who I was, againâŠâ The words barely made it out. Like saying them would make it too real.
Down the hall, footsteps approached. ââŠShanksââ Beckman stopped short when he saw him before walking faster towards him.Â
Shanks dragged a hand down his face, but it didnât help. Nothing did. âShe was justââ his voice cracked again, frustration and grief tangling together. ââshe was just there, Beck. Right in front of me and sheââ He laughed but there was nothing remotely humorous about it. ââshe didnât even hesitate, I poured my heart out and she, she looked at me like I was nothing again.â
Beckman exhaled slowly, stepping closer but not crowding him.
ââŠand tomorrow?â he said quietly. Shanks shook his head, a hollow smile pulling at his lips. âTomorrow she might love me again,â he rasped because that was the worst part. ââŠand Iâll let her,â he added, voice breaking completely now. âEvery time because I canât imagine a life without her.â
Beckman could feel the pain Shanks was going through. The crew, everyone wanted you back, you were family and they loved you all but the worst was seeing their Captain like this. The man who was usually such a charmer, who was loud, joyful and smiling was now reduced to this. The sight was gnawing at Beckman and he didnât hesitate, he pulled Shanks in and just held him and for the first time Shanks let himself be held by his first mate.Â
Only when Shanks calmed down a bit did Beckman let go and call for Lucky Roux and Hongo, telling them to get Shanks to his cabin and give him something so he could for once sleep while promising Shanks that he would look after you.Â
Back in the infirmary you shifted slightly in your sleep. Your fingers curling faintly against the sheets. A whisper slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ
to be continued.....
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito @preeyas-world (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
Had a funny thought, so im bringing it to you. Kid getting frustrated over something hes working on, so he takes a break so he doesnt blow his top. Finds poor unsuspecting s/o chilling laying down somewhere, and shoving his head into their shirt and laying on their chest. Heart beat very calming, darker because of the shirt, and also titties are there.
but im just thinking about how funny it'd look from an outside perspective since kid is such a big lad lol.
Something like this, yeah?
I always kind of figured that if you were gonna be Kid's partner, you needed to be sure you wore stretchy or baggy shirts XD
Oh my god this is so damn cute, yes i know kid would probably be more busy with something else under there but just the thought of him coming up to you, stick his head under your shirt when he's exhausted or annoyed is just too adorable đđđđđ
The drawing is so so good, i love the blush and how kid looks really relaxed. It makes me think of sweet cuddly Kid who seeks you out when he needs a safe place before turning your world upside down again and make you scream his name đđđđ
A/N: thank you @furifuri04 for the idea and for letting me write this story. It turned out a 4 part one. Damn this chapter got way longer than I wanted it to be and I had to split it in two so this story will have at least 4 chapters
Word Count > 6000
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Plot: after your accident you finally wake up but you have trouble with your memory and unfortunately you also struggle to remember the man you used to love and it broke him every time.
Warnings: sfw, established relationship, hurt, angst, reader injured, memory loss, Shanks having a small breakdown , use of (Y/N), not proofread
Characters: Shanks x FReader, cameos by Beckman, Hongo and some other crew members
You felt like you were stuck in a dreamless sleep that you couldn't escape from. The first time you opened your eyes, it felt like surfacing through water, like you could finally breathe again despite everything being heavy. Your body, your thoughts, even the air in your lungs all felt like it was draining your of your energy. A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, spreading slowly through your skull like something was trying to break free.
ââŠ(Y/N)?â The voice was soft and careful and you could have sworn there was something hopeful and familiar in it.
You blinked, vision blurred, shapes melting together before slowly sharpening. A man sat beside you, red hair, tired eyes, a hand wrapped tightly around yours like he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. âHey⊠hey, there you are,â he breathed, his voice cracking despite the smile he tried to force. âTook you long enough.â
You stared at him for a long moment then frowned slightly and your lips parted, but your voice came out dry and unfamiliar. ââŠwhoâŠ?â
The word was barely audible but it hit like a cannon blast and everything and everyone in the room seemed to freeze. Shanks didnât move, he didnât breathe and didnât even blink. ââŠwhat?â he asked, though he had heard you. He had heard you way too clearly.
Your brows knitted together as you looked at him, confusion deepening. Your fingers twitched weakly in his grasp, like you were unsure why he was holding you at all. âIâŠâ You swallowed, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. âI donât⊠know you.â
Your words seemed to stop the whole world from spinning. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating and painful. It was as if you had just unintentionally shattered someoneâs world with one simple sentence.
Shanksâ grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. ââŠthatâs not funny,â he said quietly, almost pleading. âCome on, love⊠donât do that,â he added his eyes holding something in them that made your heart tighten despite not being sure who he even was.Â
'Love' he had called you and the way he had said it, so naturally, so intimately, like he truly meant what he had said, like he was used to say it to you made you flinch because it felt like it belonged to you, like you belonged to him while you, you had no clue what was going on. âIâm sorryâŠâ you whispered, voice trembling now. âShould IâŠ?â You asked, your eyes darted around the room, panic slowly creeping in. âI donât remember.â
That was the exact moment something inside him broke. Not loudly, nor dramatically, but quietly and unbelievably painful to witness. It was like a rope that had held the love between you two alive was now snapped in two.Â
Shanksâ shoulders slumped and Beckman and Hongo exchanged a heavy look. âHongo.â Beckman breathed, voice low and firm, wanting to know what was going on.
The doctor didnât answer immediately, his eyes still focused on you as he checked your pulse, your pupils and your reactions, all while Shanks seemed to remain frozen while not once letting go of your hand. Even now, as you avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of his attention.
âItâs a symptom of the head trauma,â Hongo finally said, calm but serious. âMemory loss isnât uncommon. It could be temporary⊠or it could come and go.â
ââŠcome and go?â Shanks echoed, voice hollow.
Hongo nodded slightly. âShe might have moments of clarity. And moments like this.â
Shanks looked back at you and it was as if a knife was twisted in his heart as you lookedâŠ..scared of him. Those wide eyes meeting his was hurting him more than anything else.
âDonât panic boss, it doesnât have to be like this. Weâll have to see and I promise Iâll do everything in my powers to help you both through this, we all will,â Hongo chimed in as he placed a hand on his Captainâs shoulder.Â
Beckman who had been watching you closely exhaled a plum of smoke and then carefully stepped a bit closer to you. âIâm Beckman, this is your doctor Hongo and this is, Shanks, the Captain of this ship. Youâre in good hands here so donât be scared. You hurt your head and we are making sure youâre healing well,â he explained to you to calm you down a bit.
You looked warily between the three men and then exhaled softly. âOkay,â you breathed, still a bit tense but as you reached your hand up and felt the bandage around your head you were at least a bit relieved that it seemed they werenât lying and you had truly injured yourself.Â
Just as you started to relax the door to the infirmary burst open and in stumbled Lucky Roux, Limejuice and Yasopp wanting to come see how you were doing and their rather loud and unceremoniously entrance startled you. âFor heavenâs sake are you three insane? I told you to be quiet and careful not burst in here like the ship is on fire,â Hongo scolded as you looked wide eyed at the three new faces.
âSorry we just wanted to see how she was doing and if you needed anything, Roux has made some stew and we wanted to see if you were hungry,â Yasopp apologized as he looked at you and gave a careful smile.
â(Y/N), weâre glad youâre awake howâs the head?â Roux asked looking at you and you bit your lip looking from him to Shanks as if asking for help.Â
âOkay out, all of you, come onâ Beckman suddenly chimed in, ushering Limejuice, Yasopp and Roux out the door to explain to them what was going on and leaving you with Hongo and Shanks so you wouldnât be too overwhelmed right now.Â
âTheyâre loud,â you mumbled feeling slightly scared and uneasy.Â
Shanks smiled softly at you, hearing your voice was, despite the lack of your memory, still like balm to his soul. âYeah they are but theyâre part of our crew, they are your friends like Hongo and Beckman.â
âOh okay,â you breathed and then looked at Shanks. âYou said they were friends like Hongo and Beckman but what about you? Arenât you my friend too?â you asked softly voice raspy and throat dry as Hongo handed you a glass of water which you took gratefully.Â
Shanks swallowed unsure what to say and exchanged a look with Hongo who nodded as if giving him permission to tell you the truth. âWell we are a bitâŠ..more than friends,â was all Shanks said for now, not wanting to make this mess even more overwhelming for you.
Your eyes widened, this time not in fear though and you finally understood why he had called you âloveâ before and the hurt look in his eyes. You felt bad, really, as if it was your fault you didnât remember him. â...sorry,â you mumbled and he gave a soft, whereas forced smile.Â
âItâs okay, for now all that matters is that you are awake,â he said though it pained him. To him it was not really okay because the fear of losing the one person he truly, deeply loved with all his heart was something he just couldnât live with. But he knew that right now you needed to feel like everything was going to be fine.Â
The next day, everything changed again. You were sitting in the bed after waking up and threading your fingers through Shanksâ messy hair. When he stirred and looked up at you he was met with your warm, loving smile. âGood morning boss,â you said softly and let your hand glide from his hair to his cheek cupping it gently. âYou look like hell and my head, it kinda hurts, care to explain what happened because the last thing I remember is getting hit by something during the storm.â Shanks blinked confused at first but then let out a sigh of relief that almost sounded like a sob and it made you tense. âOkay I didnât know it had been that bad.â
Shanks smiled and reached his hand up to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. âYou scared me, got hit rather hard on the head, love. Iâm glad your head is thick,â he tried to joke before he leaned in and kissed you deeply just as Hongo came in to check on you and paused in surprise at the doorway.
âGood morning you two, sorry to interrupt,â he smiled and walked to the cabinet to get his instruments to check on you. âOkay boss, how about you get your hand and lips off her for a moment so I can check on her,â Hongo added, approaching you a bit warily. He was glad to see you like this after yesterdayâs display but he also knew that it wasnât a reason to celebrate yet but it was a good sign that you were better today and with your memory intact. He did a quick check up and was rather satisfied with you for now. âEverythingâs fine, you only got a parasite who seems to cling to your lips,â he teased referring to Shanks who couldnât stop pampering you with kisses out of relief.Â
When you were distracted later on with brushing your teeth in bed Hongo made it clear to Shanks that it was for the best to not tell you about the memory loss, about the way you had been yesterday fearing it would stress you and put too much pressure on you that could trigger unwanted responses from your head and the crew agreed to it. Your health was now top priority and Shanks, he was too busy cherishing to have you back even though Hongo reminded him that this could be temporary.
For now though everyone just enjoyed having you back. You laughed, talked and it was as if nothing had happened and Shanks simply enjoyed every second of it as you two kept talking and bantering. âWaitâthatâs not true, you fell asleep during that meeting,â you said, grinning as you nudged him lightly, when he recalled the story of the one time he had drank too much and fell asleep during the meeting the next day.
Shanks stared at you like you were something unreal. ââŠyou remember that?â he asked carefully.
You blinked at him. âOf course I do? How could I forget? You sat next to me and you, my dear, might be a real eyecandy but you snore when nursing a hangover. Loudly,â you laughed.Â
There it was, that sweet melody of your laughter, that beautiful smile and that teasing tone that Shanks loved so much about you. It was as if nothing had ever happened, like yesterday hadnât shattered him completely. Shanks let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently, almost hesitantly. âYouâre⊠youâre okay?â he asked warily.Â
You leaned into his touch instinctively. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
And just like that, hope came rushing back, hope that he had you back. That you were getting better, that you would keep your memory and never again forget him or your family here.Â
But fate was cruel and hope didnât last.Â
Two days later, you woke up, still in the infirmary because Hongo didnât want you to leave yet and you felt disoriented again. Not as bad as the first day, not fully gone this time, just fractured.Â
ââŠShanks?â you murmured, your voice unsure, like you were testing the name.
Shanks, who had moved into the infirmary for now, leaned forward immediately. âYeah, yeahâI'm here, love.â
Your gaze softened slightly in recognition but it didnât fully settle. âI⊠know you,â you said slowly. âBut⊠itâs fuzzy. Like a dream I canât quite remember.â
Shanks swallowed hard, forcing a gentle smile. âThatâs okay. You donât have to rush it,â he said trying to be reassuring and hiding the panic that was brewing up inside of him. Fear that you were going to forget about him entirely again.
You looked at him, really looked this time and tilted your head a tiny bit, carefully not to make the world spin again. ââŠyouâre important to me, arenât you?â you asked quietly, studying his features.
That question nearly destroyed him because it was bordering exactly that line between remembering and forgetting. He laughed softly but it wasn't as hearty and wholesome as usually. âYeah,â he whispered. âYeah, Iâd like to think so.â
âGood,â you whispered, âyou have beautiful eyes, they made something tug at me, like they wanted to remind me,â you continued with a content sigh and Shanks tried not to break down and instead simply placed a kiss to your forehead. Â
Days blurred together after that, some were good, some were bad, some were something in between. There were days where you clung to him like nothing had changed, laughing with the crew, teasing him, stealing kisses like before. And days where you looked at him like he was a stranger or worse like you werenât even sure who you were yourself.
âWhere⊠am I?â you asked one evening, your voice small as you sat on the edge of the bed.
Shanks froze in the doorway as he entered the infirmary after Beckman and Hongo had practically dragged him to get to the galley and eat. âYouâre on my ship,â he said gently, approaching slowly, like he didnât want to startle you. âYouâre safe here.â
ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, looking down at your hands. âAnd IâmâŠ?â
His chest tightened, how he hated that switching between good, bad and horrible. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said, softer now. âYouâre⊠everything, honestly.â
You looked up at him, eyes glassy with confusion and something dangerously close to fear. âI donât feel like anything,â you whispered.
He stared at you for a long agonizing moment trying to find words but nothing came out he couldnât think of anything to say right now that wouldn't make this situation worse. But your words stayed with him. Long after you fell asleep, long after the crew had gone quiet, long after Hongo had done his evening check up on you and long after the sea itself seemed to be still around him.Â
That night, Shanks sat alone on the deck after Hongo offered to look after you and promised Shanks that he would call him if something was happening or changing.
Shanks had a bottle beside him, untouched for now and probably for the first time in his life. Beckman approached quietly, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the railing beside him. ââŠthis isnât something you can fight,â Beckman said after a while.
Shanks let out a bitter laugh. âIâve fought worse.â
âNo,â Beckman replied calmly. âYou havenât,â he added and what followed was silence. Long and heavy because Shanks knew he was right.Â
ââŠshe looked at me today like I was nothing,â Shanks muttered. âLike I didnât exist.â
Beckman exhaled slowly. âAnd yesterday she couldnât stop smiling at you.â
âThatâs the problem,â Shanks snapped, his voice cracking. âI get her backâand then I lose her all over again.â He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into something deeper. âI donât know which version of her Iâm going to wake up to and itâs worse than losing her completely because I get to hope. The good days, they make me feel like it could get better, like everything was going to be fine from now on, only for the next day to have her ripped from me again. ItâsâŠ..hard.â
Beckman didnât respond immediately because there wasnât a comforting answer to give and Beckman wasnât someone to sweet talk something he couldnât because he knew Shanks was right, hope was more cruel than fear. He looked at Shanks for a long time and then reached out a hand and placed it around Shanksâ shoulders because that was the only comfort he could offer his Captain in that moment.Â
Back in the infirmary, you stirred in your sleep. Your fingers twitched against the sheets. A quiet murmur slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ Hongo looked up at your quiet words and placed the book about neurological treatments after trauma down. He reached out a hand and placed it on your forehead making you let out an almost content sigh. âHold on, little one, we need you here, Shanks needs you,â he whispered carefully before settling back in his chair and picking up the book again.
The next day was like one of the good days. You had remembered him, not perfectly and not completely but enough to know who he was, where you were and to remember the crew and your first time being chased by marines. It was enough to smile at him like you used to, enough to leave the infirmary and have dinner with everyone, enough to let your fingers occasionally curl into the fabric of his shirt like it was instinct and enough to kiss him. Not like a stranger and not like you couldnât remember him, no the kiss was like it used to be, it was soft, familiar and real. And that was what had nearly undone him.Â
And then, just like that it was gone again because you had collapsed shortly after without any warning. Your words started to slur, your balance failing you, confusion flooding your expression so suddenly it was terrifying to watch.
Hongo moved immediately and took you from Shanks' arm and rushed you back to the infirmary. Immediately checking on you, giving you some pharmaceutics and keeping a close eye on you. Shanks followed him hastily, his eyes full of fear and Beckman was behind him just to make sure Shanks didnât collapse himself. âSheâs having another episode, another fluctuation,â Hongo explained, not looking away from you as he moved to stabilize you and Beckmanâs hand shot out to steady Shanks. âShe needs rest.â
How Shanks dreaded that word. Rest. Thatâs all it ever was. Rest. He didnât want to see you rest all day, he didnât want you to be doomed to always be near this god damn bed. He wanted to go see the world with you. To take you on dates. To show you another cave again, just you and him. But all he could do was wait. And it killed him because no matter what, he couldnât fight this with all his power, he was damned to wait, to let you rest. To get his hopes high only to have them crushed again while he had to watch you break and then repeat the cycle.Â
He stayed with you as Hongo finally managed to steady you. The crew didnât want to leave Shanks alone with you tonight though and were doing a rotation to stay. Hongo stayed first followed by Beckman then Limejuice, Roux, Howling Gab and so on until the sun went down and Shanks insisted that they didnât have to stay that he could handle it. Â
With the crew gone the ship was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every thought louder. Shanks didn't handled it well. Not this time and for the first time he had asked Beckman to stay with you because he needed some air.Â
On deck Shanks looked at the crates full of rum and his feet moved automatically towards it. He grabbed the bottle and opened it taking a big sip, then another. The bottle in his hand was nearly empty by the time he made it down the corridor.
His steps werenât steady. Not the confident, grounded walk of a Yonko, but just⊠a man. A man who was losing the person he loved piece by piece and himself with her.Â
The infirmary door creaked open as he stepped inside. Beckmanâs head turned and one look at Shanks told him that he had been drinking. But for once Beckman didnât scold him, not this time, it wasnât an excuse but he knew that Shanks needed this.Â
âYou can go now Beck, thanks for staying,â Shanks mumbled towards his first mate who wanted to argue that it would be better if he stayed but decided against it and instead got up placed a hand on Shanksâ shoulder as he passed him and told him to call if he needed anything.Â
Shanks approached you, not bothering to be quiet. He didn't bother pretending he was okay because he wasnât and with only you in the room there was no one left to be fooled.Â
You lay exactly the way Hongo had laid you down. Still, so damn still. The soft rise and fall of your chest was the only thing tethering you to him anymore. Shanks stood there for a moment just looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize every detail, every line of your face, every strand of your hair, as if even that could be taken from him.
ââŠhey, love.â he rasped his voice rough and unsteady. Nothing like the man you knew. He stumbled slightly as he moved closer, dragging the chair beside your bed even closer before practically dropping into it. For a second, he just⊠sat there, silently and then his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours, tracing over them lightly and carefully. He smiled your skin still so soft.Â
And then all of a sudden everything shattered inside him. A mix of fury, fear and hurt washing over him ââŠthis isnât funny anymore.â A weak laugh left him, but it broke halfway through. His grip tightened around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to wake you up through touch alone. âYouâve⊠youâve had your fun, alright?â he muttered, voice cracking. âYou can stop now, this isn't a joke anynore.â
But of course there was nothing coming from you. No reaction, no teasing reply, no stuck out tongue or a soft smile. Nothing but silence was all there was.Â
His head dropped forward, shoulders trembling. ââŠI'm sorry I didn't mean to.....I just donât know what to do,â he whispered this time quieter than before. No sign of the strong Yonko. âIâve fought emperors⊠faced down death more times than I can countâŠâ he choked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. âBut this? This is what takes me down?â
His hand dragged over his face, but it didnât stop the tears that finally slipped through, uncontrolled and impossible to be held back any longer. The man who had been through hell but came out smiling every time was for the first time in his life utterly lost and fearing that he was finally facing a battle he wasnât sure he could win.Â
âDo you rememberâŠ?â He asked, his voice softening and so damn fragile now. Like he was afraid even speaking too loudly would break whatever invisible thread still connected you. âThat little cove I showed you?â he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, while his tears kept falling freely. âYou said the water looked like glass⊠said if we stayed there long enough, the world might forget us.â
A shaky breath left him. âI told you I wouldnât mind that,â he mumbled his lips trembling slightly. ââŠlong as I had you.â He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, your hand still trapped in his. âYou always laughed at me when I got sentimental,â he whispered. âSaid I was too soft for a pirate.â A faint, broken smile flickered across his face. ââŠbut you loved it, you loved that I was this soft for you,â he said and his voice cracked again. âYou loved me and nowâŠ.now everything is broken.âÂ
Tears fell again, some trickling down onto your hand as he held it close, pressing his cheek against it to feel your warmth till the tears stopped. But all that answered him was silence, again, as always. No âI still love you, jerkâ. Just this heavy silence again. Â
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt just enough to feel like everything was fine, like you were justâŠ..sleeping. âCome back to me,â he whispered, more desperate now. âPlease⊠justâjust come back.â His head lowered until his forehead pressed against the back of your hand, his shoulders shaking harder now. âI donât care if you forget everything else,â he choked out. âForget the crew, forget the ship, forgetâhell, forget the entire damn worldâ,â he shouted, his voice breaking completely. âBut not me.â A single hot tear slipped down onto your hand, âDonât forget meâŠ,â he pleaded.Â
The room suddenly felt smaller, heavier. Like it couldnât hold everything he was pouring into it. âI was going to ask you something,â he murmured after a moment, voice quieter and hollow. âWe were supposed to go back to that cove. I'd have called it a date, butâŠâ He let out a shaky breath. âThat wouldn't have been all.â
His fingers tightened slightly around yours. âI was going to ask you to stay. Not just on the shipââ his voice faltered, emotion catching in his throat. ââbut with me. Properly,â he continued a weak laugh escaping his lips. âI mean⊠you already have my heart, donât you?â he muttered. âFigured it was about time I made it official.â
His head lifted slightly, red-rimmed eyes locking onto your unmoving face. ââŠyou were going to say yes and I would have been the luckiest bastard in the grand line.â It wasnât a question. It was something he needed to believe, something to remind him what he was fighting for. âDonât take that away from me too. Donât leave me behind,â he pleaded.Â
For a long moment, he just stared at you. Like he was waiting, praying and begging for anything. A twitch that you had heard him, a hitch of your breath that you were still in there, a sign that you were okay and still loved him. But nothing came.Â
His composure finally gave out completely. Shanks leaned forward, carefully, almost reverently, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing weakly against your cheek. âI canât do this without you,â he admitted, voice barely audible now. âI donât want to.â Another breath hitched in his chest. âYouâre⊠youâre everything, (Y/N). Iâve already lost so much donât make me add you to that list.â
His lips hovered near your temple for a moment before pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. ââŠso donât you dare leave me here alone.â
For a second, just a second, your fingers twitched in his grasp. Faintly, barely there but real and Shanks froze. His breath catching and that dangerous, fragile and terrifying hope was flaring back up in his chest as he took it as a sign that you had truly heard him. ââŠ(Y/N)?â He asked warily but no response.Â
But he didnât let go, he couldnât, not ever because he had to claw at these tiny moments, these straws to not break completely. He had to tell himself that it wasnât over because if he didnât, he knew his world would plunge into darkness. ââŠ(Y/N)?â
Shanks didnât breathe. Didnât dare to move. His entire world narrowed down to that one tiny movement of your fingers. That barely there twitch in his grasp that felt like a fragile signal from somewhere far away. â(Y/N)âŠ?â he tried for the third time now, softer this time, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke too loud.
For a second, nothing happened and he felt that old cruel hurt flare up again. That painful moment where hope was ripped from him until suddenly your lashes fluttered, slow and unsteady, like it took everything in you just to open your eyes.
Relief hit him so hard it was almost painful. âHeyâhey, thatâs it,â he breathed, immediately leaning closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. âCome on, love⊠Iâm right here.â
Your eyes opened. They were a bit clouded and unfocused though. But to Shanks it was enough to let a small smile tug at his lips, it was a bit broken, it was tear-streaked, desperate but it was real.Â
âThere you are,â he whispered. âTook you long enough,â he breathed, relief washing over him. His thumb brushed gently against your skin, grounding, familiar, something he had done a thousand times before. Something that had always made you lean into him.
But not this time, instead your brows pulled together and a flicker of confusion crossed your face. Followed by discomfort and then something sharper. Your head shifted weakly against the pillow, your gaze trying to track him like he was something you couldnât quite place.
ââŠwhoâŠ?â The word was faint and barely there but it landed like a blade straight throug his chest. He had just spilled his heart out to you, prayed, begged and pleaded for you to come back and as you did the fragile hope that had flared up in his chest was now ripped from him once again and you were back at that dreadful place again.Â
His smile didnât fall right away, it just stopped being there. Like his face didnât quite understand what he had just heard. Like he couldnât believe that after everything he had just said you could be back at zero. ââŠhey,â he said quietly, softer now, like maybe you just needed a moment. âItâs me.â
But your expression didnât change, if anything it only got worse - more confused and more uncertain. You looked down and saw your hand in his. You had no clue why or what was going on and when your hand twitched it wasnât to reach for him or tighten the grip, no it was to pull away from the stranger sitting next of you.Â
Shanks felt it and he stared in utter disbelief because that, that hurt. That was another blow he wasnât prepared for, another reminder that he could still lose you forever. ââŠ(Y/N),â he tried again, voice tight, barely holding together. âItâs Shanks.â
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him but there was nothing. You didnât know who this man was, the name didnât remind you of anyone. There was no recognition and no warmth spreading through you. There was only distance.Â
âI donâtâŠâ you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted over his face like you were trying to force something to click. âI donât know you.â
There it was again. Clearer this time. And the worst, it sounded final, making something inside him snap. Not loudly, not violently, just like something was gone now. His grip loosened and he released your hand slowly and carefully. Like letting go of you too fast might break something even worse. ââŠyeah,â he murmured under his breath, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. âRight⊠right,â he huffed, hurt and frustrated and leaned back slightly, putting just enough space between you to stop overwhelming you. But even now, even like this, even with you throwing blow after blow at him, unintentionally of course, he didnât stop thinking about you, letting his thoughts revolve around you.Â
You watched him give you space and you tried to figure him out but your brain wouldnât let you. It was as if there was a curtain before it that you couldnât remove. You tried harder and harder but nothing, the curtain wouldnât budge. Your breathing started to pick up and become uneven and your body tensed like his presence alone made you uncomfortable.
ââŠwhere am I?â you asked, your voice small, fragile in a completely different way.
Shanks swallowed hard but forced his own unease. âThe Red Force,â he answered quietly. âMy ship.â
You blinked at him confused. ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, like the words didnât mean anything. Your gaze dropped to your own hands and you looked at them like they didnât belong to you. ââŠand IâmâŠ?â
That question. Again. Shanks closed his eyes for a second, just one. Because if he didnât he wasnât sure heâd be able to hold it together at all. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said finally, voice softer than it had ever been. âYouâre⊠you,â he added leaving everything else out. Sure it felt wrong, incomplete, but he couldnât bring himself to say more. Not when you were looking at him like he was a stranger, like he was nothing to you.Â
Your lips parted slightly. ââŠI donât feel like anyone,â you admitted quietly.
The words hit harder this time. Because now he was right in front of you. Watching your spiraling happen step by step. A sharp breath left him before he could stop it. His hand curled slightly against his knee, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. ââŠthatâs okay,â he said, though it sounded strained. âYou donât have to figure it out right now, we all feel lost sometimes.â
Your eyes flickered back to him, hesitant and careful ââŠwhy were you holding my hand?â you asked almost innocently with those wide eyes.Â
That nearly broke him all over again. He stared at you for a moment. At the girl who had once clung to him without hesitation, who had laughed with him, teased him, loved him so openly it had felt like the easiest thing in the world. And now you were asking him why he had touched you. Something that had been so normal, was now something you didnât understand.Â
Shanks forced a small, tight smile. The kind that didnât reach his eyes but he hoped that in your state right now it wouldnât matter and that you wouldnât see through it anyways. ââŠI thought it might help,â he said quietly. âSometimes it does.â
It wasnât a lie. Just⊠not the full truth. Not the truth he couldnât say out loud without falling apart in front of you. But it was enough for you now and you seemed to accept that. You were too tired to question it further because your eyes drifted slightly, exhaustion pulling at you again.
Shanks noticed immediately, of course he did, he noticed everything about you. ââŠyou should rest,â he murmured, his voice instinctively dropping despite everything. âYour bodyâs still recovering.â
Your gaze lingered on him for a second longer, you were searching for something, something that seemed to be missing, like he was a puzzle that you were missing some pieces but you found nothing.Â
ââŠokay,â you whispered, not fighting the exhaustion anymore.Â
He stood slowly, like every movement took effort, like his body didnât quite belong to him anymore. For a brief second, it looked like he might reach for you again but he stopped himself. His hand hovering in the air before falling back to his side.
ââŠIâll be nearby,â he said instead. âIn case you need anything.â
You didnât answer. Your eyes had already started to close again. Shanks stood there for a moment longer. Just watching you, like he was trying to memorize you all over again. This version of you, the one that didnât know him. Before he turned and walked out the alcohol in his blood seemed to have been drained out of him from this conversation, this confession and that cruel reality.Â
For the first time he didnât sleep in the infirmary with you and when the door closed softly behind him, his composure shattered. His back hit the wall in the hallway, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook violently. A broken sound forced its way out anyway. ââŠshe asked me who I was, againâŠâ The words barely made it out. Like saying them would make it too real.
Down the hall, footsteps approached. ââŠShanksââ Beckman stopped short when he saw him before walking faster towards him.Â
Shanks dragged a hand down his face, but it didnât help. Nothing did. âShe was justââ his voice cracked again, frustration and grief tangling together. ââshe was just there, Beck. Right in front of me and sheââ He laughed but there was nothing remotely humorous about it. ââshe didnât even hesitate, I poured my heart out and she, she looked at me like I was nothing again.â
Beckman exhaled slowly, stepping closer but not crowding him.
ââŠand tomorrow?â he said quietly. Shanks shook his head, a hollow smile pulling at his lips. âTomorrow she might love me again,â he rasped because that was the worst part. ââŠand Iâll let her,â he added, voice breaking completely now. âEvery time because I canât imagine a life without her.â
Beckman could feel the pain Shanks was going through. The crew, everyone wanted you back, you were family and they loved you all but the worst was seeing their Captain like this. The man who was usually such a charmer, who was loud, joyful and smiling was now reduced to this. The sight was gnawing at Beckman and he didnât hesitate, he pulled Shanks in and just held him and for the first time Shanks let himself be held by his first mate.Â
Only when Shanks calmed down a bit did Beckman let go and call for Lucky Roux and Hongo, telling them to get Shanks to his cabin and give him something so he could for once sleep while promising Shanks that he would look after you.Â
Back in the infirmary you shifted slightly in your sleep. Your fingers curling faintly against the sheets. A whisper slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ
to be continued.....
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito @preeyas-world (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
A/N: thank you @furifuri04 for the idea and for letting me write this story. It turned out a 4 part one. Damn this chapter got way longer than I wanted it to be and I had to split it in two so this story will have at least 4 chapters
Word Count > 6000
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
Plot: after your accident you finally wake up but you have trouble with your memory and unfortunately you also struggle to remember the man you used to love and it broke him every time.
Warnings: sfw, established relationship, hurt, angst, reader injured, memory loss, Shanks having a small breakdown , use of (Y/N), not proofread
Characters: Shanks x FReader, cameos by Beckman, Hongo and some other crew members
You felt like you were stuck in a dreamless sleep that you couldn't escape from. The first time you opened your eyes, it felt like surfacing through water, like you could finally breathe again despite everything being heavy. Your body, your thoughts, even the air in your lungs all felt like it was draining your of your energy. A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, spreading slowly through your skull like something was trying to break free.
ââŠ(Y/N)?â The voice was soft and careful and you could have sworn there was something hopeful and familiar in it.
You blinked, vision blurred, shapes melting together before slowly sharpening. A man sat beside you, red hair, tired eyes, a hand wrapped tightly around yours like he was afraid youâd disappear if he let go.
Relief flooded his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. âHey⊠hey, there you are,â he breathed, his voice cracking despite the smile he tried to force. âTook you long enough.â
You stared at him for a long moment then frowned slightly and your lips parted, but your voice came out dry and unfamiliar. ââŠwhoâŠ?â
The word was barely audible but it hit like a cannon blast and everything and everyone in the room seemed to freeze. Shanks didnât move, he didnât breathe and didnât even blink. ââŠwhat?â he asked, though he had heard you. He had heard you way too clearly.
Your brows knitted together as you looked at him, confusion deepening. Your fingers twitched weakly in his grasp, like you were unsure why he was holding you at all. âIâŠâ You swallowed, wincing slightly at the pain it caused. âI donât⊠know you.â
Your words seemed to stop the whole world from spinning. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating and painful. It was as if you had just unintentionally shattered someoneâs world with one simple sentence.
Shanksâ grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. ââŠthatâs not funny,â he said quietly, almost pleading. âCome on, love⊠donât do that,â he added his eyes holding something in them that made your heart tighten despite not being sure who he even was.Â
'Love' he had called you and the way he had said it, so naturally, so intimately, like he truly meant what he had said, like he was used to say it to you made you flinch because it felt like it belonged to you, like you belonged to him while you, you had no clue what was going on. âIâm sorryâŠâ you whispered, voice trembling now. âShould IâŠ?â You asked, your eyes darted around the room, panic slowly creeping in. âI donât remember.â
That was the exact moment something inside him broke. Not loudly, nor dramatically, but quietly and unbelievably painful to witness. It was like a rope that had held the love between you two alive was now snapped in two.Â
Shanksâ shoulders slumped and Beckman and Hongo exchanged a heavy look. âHongo.â Beckman breathed, voice low and firm, wanting to know what was going on.
The doctor didnât answer immediately, his eyes still focused on you as he checked your pulse, your pupils and your reactions, all while Shanks seemed to remain frozen while not once letting go of your hand. Even now, as you avoided his gaze, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of his attention.
âItâs a symptom of the head trauma,â Hongo finally said, calm but serious. âMemory loss isnât uncommon. It could be temporary⊠or it could come and go.â
ââŠcome and go?â Shanks echoed, voice hollow.
Hongo nodded slightly. âShe might have moments of clarity. And moments like this.â
Shanks looked back at you and it was as if a knife was twisted in his heart as you lookedâŠ..scared of him. Those wide eyes meeting his was hurting him more than anything else.
âDonât panic boss, it doesnât have to be like this. Weâll have to see and I promise Iâll do everything in my powers to help you both through this, we all will,â Hongo chimed in as he placed a hand on his Captainâs shoulder.Â
Beckman who had been watching you closely exhaled a plum of smoke and then carefully stepped a bit closer to you. âIâm Beckman, this is your doctor Hongo and this is, Shanks, the Captain of this ship. Youâre in good hands here so donât be scared. You hurt your head and we are making sure youâre healing well,â he explained to you to calm you down a bit.
You looked warily between the three men and then exhaled softly. âOkay,â you breathed, still a bit tense but as you reached your hand up and felt the bandage around your head you were at least a bit relieved that it seemed they werenât lying and you had truly injured yourself.Â
Just as you started to relax the door to the infirmary burst open and in stumbled Lucky Roux, Limejuice and Yasopp wanting to come see how you were doing and their rather loud and unceremoniously entrance startled you. âFor heavenâs sake are you three insane? I told you to be quiet and careful not burst in here like the ship is on fire,â Hongo scolded as you looked wide eyed at the three new faces.
âSorry we just wanted to see how she was doing and if you needed anything, Roux has made some stew and we wanted to see if you were hungry,â Yasopp apologized as he looked at you and gave a careful smile.
â(Y/N), weâre glad youâre awake howâs the head?â Roux asked looking at you and you bit your lip looking from him to Shanks as if asking for help.Â
âOkay out, all of you, come onâ Beckman suddenly chimed in, ushering Limejuice, Yasopp and Roux out the door to explain to them what was going on and leaving you with Hongo and Shanks so you wouldnât be too overwhelmed right now.Â
âTheyâre loud,â you mumbled feeling slightly scared and uneasy.Â
Shanks smiled softly at you, hearing your voice was, despite the lack of your memory, still like balm to his soul. âYeah they are but theyâre part of our crew, they are your friends like Hongo and Beckman.â
âOh okay,â you breathed and then looked at Shanks. âYou said they were friends like Hongo and Beckman but what about you? Arenât you my friend too?â you asked softly voice raspy and throat dry as Hongo handed you a glass of water which you took gratefully.Â
Shanks swallowed unsure what to say and exchanged a look with Hongo who nodded as if giving him permission to tell you the truth. âWell we are a bitâŠ..more than friends,â was all Shanks said for now, not wanting to make this mess even more overwhelming for you.
Your eyes widened, this time not in fear though and you finally understood why he had called you âloveâ before and the hurt look in his eyes. You felt bad, really, as if it was your fault you didnât remember him. â...sorry,â you mumbled and he gave a soft, whereas forced smile.Â
âItâs okay, for now all that matters is that you are awake,â he said though it pained him. To him it was not really okay because the fear of losing the one person he truly, deeply loved with all his heart was something he just couldnât live with. But he knew that right now you needed to feel like everything was going to be fine.Â
The next day, everything changed again. You were sitting in the bed after waking up and threading your fingers through Shanksâ messy hair. When he stirred and looked up at you he was met with your warm, loving smile. âGood morning boss,â you said softly and let your hand glide from his hair to his cheek cupping it gently. âYou look like hell and my head, it kinda hurts, care to explain what happened because the last thing I remember is getting hit by something during the storm.â Shanks blinked confused at first but then let out a sigh of relief that almost sounded like a sob and it made you tense. âOkay I didnât know it had been that bad.â
Shanks smiled and reached his hand up to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. âYou scared me, got hit rather hard on the head, love. Iâm glad your head is thick,â he tried to joke before he leaned in and kissed you deeply just as Hongo came in to check on you and paused in surprise at the doorway.
âGood morning you two, sorry to interrupt,â he smiled and walked to the cabinet to get his instruments to check on you. âOkay boss, how about you get your hand and lips off her for a moment so I can check on her,â Hongo added, approaching you a bit warily. He was glad to see you like this after yesterdayâs display but he also knew that it wasnât a reason to celebrate yet but it was a good sign that you were better today and with your memory intact. He did a quick check up and was rather satisfied with you for now. âEverythingâs fine, you only got a parasite who seems to cling to your lips,â he teased referring to Shanks who couldnât stop pampering you with kisses out of relief.Â
When you were distracted later on with brushing your teeth in bed Hongo made it clear to Shanks that it was for the best to not tell you about the memory loss, about the way you had been yesterday fearing it would stress you and put too much pressure on you that could trigger unwanted responses from your head and the crew agreed to it. Your health was now top priority and Shanks, he was too busy cherishing to have you back even though Hongo reminded him that this could be temporary.
For now though everyone just enjoyed having you back. You laughed, talked and it was as if nothing had happened and Shanks simply enjoyed every second of it as you two kept talking and bantering. âWaitâthatâs not true, you fell asleep during that meeting,â you said, grinning as you nudged him lightly, when he recalled the story of the one time he had drank too much and fell asleep during the meeting the next day.
Shanks stared at you like you were something unreal. ââŠyou remember that?â he asked carefully.
You blinked at him. âOf course I do? How could I forget? You sat next to me and you, my dear, might be a real eyecandy but you snore when nursing a hangover. Loudly,â you laughed.Â
There it was, that sweet melody of your laughter, that beautiful smile and that teasing tone that Shanks loved so much about you. It was as if nothing had ever happened, like yesterday hadnât shattered him completely. Shanks let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently, almost hesitantly. âYouâre⊠youâre okay?â he asked warily.Â
You leaned into his touch instinctively. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
And just like that, hope came rushing back, hope that he had you back. That you were getting better, that you would keep your memory and never again forget him or your family here.Â
But fate was cruel and hope didnât last.Â
Two days later, you woke up, still in the infirmary because Hongo didnât want you to leave yet and you felt disoriented again. Not as bad as the first day, not fully gone this time, just fractured.Â
ââŠShanks?â you murmured, your voice unsure, like you were testing the name.
Shanks, who had moved into the infirmary for now, leaned forward immediately. âYeah, yeahâI'm here, love.â
Your gaze softened slightly in recognition but it didnât fully settle. âI⊠know you,â you said slowly. âBut⊠itâs fuzzy. Like a dream I canât quite remember.â
Shanks swallowed hard, forcing a gentle smile. âThatâs okay. You donât have to rush it,â he said trying to be reassuring and hiding the panic that was brewing up inside of him. Fear that you were going to forget about him entirely again.
You looked at him, really looked this time and tilted your head a tiny bit, carefully not to make the world spin again. ââŠyouâre important to me, arenât you?â you asked quietly, studying his features.
That question nearly destroyed him because it was bordering exactly that line between remembering and forgetting. He laughed softly but it wasn't as hearty and wholesome as usually. âYeah,â he whispered. âYeah, Iâd like to think so.â
âGood,â you whispered, âyou have beautiful eyes, they made something tug at me, like they wanted to remind me,â you continued with a content sigh and Shanks tried not to break down and instead simply placed a kiss to your forehead. Â
Days blurred together after that, some were good, some were bad, some were something in between. There were days where you clung to him like nothing had changed, laughing with the crew, teasing him, stealing kisses like before. And days where you looked at him like he was a stranger or worse like you werenât even sure who you were yourself.
âWhere⊠am I?â you asked one evening, your voice small as you sat on the edge of the bed.
Shanks froze in the doorway as he entered the infirmary after Beckman and Hongo had practically dragged him to get to the galley and eat. âYouâre on my ship,â he said gently, approaching slowly, like he didnât want to startle you. âYouâre safe here.â
ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, looking down at your hands. âAnd IâmâŠ?â
His chest tightened, how he hated that switching between good, bad and horrible. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said, softer now. âYouâre⊠everything, honestly.â
You looked up at him, eyes glassy with confusion and something dangerously close to fear. âI donât feel like anything,â you whispered.
He stared at you for a long agonizing moment trying to find words but nothing came out he couldnât think of anything to say right now that wouldn't make this situation worse. But your words stayed with him. Long after you fell asleep, long after the crew had gone quiet, long after Hongo had done his evening check up on you and long after the sea itself seemed to be still around him.Â
That night, Shanks sat alone on the deck after Hongo offered to look after you and promised Shanks that he would call him if something was happening or changing.
Shanks had a bottle beside him, untouched for now and probably for the first time in his life. Beckman approached quietly, lighting a cigarette as he leaned against the railing beside him. ââŠthis isnât something you can fight,â Beckman said after a while.
Shanks let out a bitter laugh. âIâve fought worse.â
âNo,â Beckman replied calmly. âYou havenât,â he added and what followed was silence. Long and heavy because Shanks knew he was right.Â
ââŠshe looked at me today like I was nothing,â Shanks muttered. âLike I didnât exist.â
Beckman exhaled slowly. âAnd yesterday she couldnât stop smiling at you.â
âThatâs the problem,â Shanks snapped, his voice cracking. âI get her backâand then I lose her all over again.â He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into something deeper. âI donât know which version of her Iâm going to wake up to and itâs worse than losing her completely because I get to hope. The good days, they make me feel like it could get better, like everything was going to be fine from now on, only for the next day to have her ripped from me again. ItâsâŠ..hard.â
Beckman didnât respond immediately because there wasnât a comforting answer to give and Beckman wasnât someone to sweet talk something he couldnât because he knew Shanks was right, hope was more cruel than fear. He looked at Shanks for a long time and then reached out a hand and placed it around Shanksâ shoulders because that was the only comfort he could offer his Captain in that moment.Â
Back in the infirmary, you stirred in your sleep. Your fingers twitched against the sheets. A quiet murmur slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ Hongo looked up at your quiet words and placed the book about neurological treatments after trauma down. He reached out a hand and placed it on your forehead making you let out an almost content sigh. âHold on, little one, we need you here, Shanks needs you,â he whispered carefully before settling back in his chair and picking up the book again.
The next day was like one of the good days. You had remembered him, not perfectly and not completely but enough to know who he was, where you were and to remember the crew and your first time being chased by marines. It was enough to smile at him like you used to, enough to leave the infirmary and have dinner with everyone, enough to let your fingers occasionally curl into the fabric of his shirt like it was instinct and enough to kiss him. Not like a stranger and not like you couldnât remember him, no the kiss was like it used to be, it was soft, familiar and real. And that was what had nearly undone him.Â
And then, just like that it was gone again because you had collapsed shortly after without any warning. Your words started to slur, your balance failing you, confusion flooding your expression so suddenly it was terrifying to watch.
Hongo moved immediately and took you from Shanks' arm and rushed you back to the infirmary. Immediately checking on you, giving you some pharmaceutics and keeping a close eye on you. Shanks followed him hastily, his eyes full of fear and Beckman was behind him just to make sure Shanks didnât collapse himself. âSheâs having another episode, another fluctuation,â Hongo explained, not looking away from you as he moved to stabilize you and Beckmanâs hand shot out to steady Shanks. âShe needs rest.â
How Shanks dreaded that word. Rest. Thatâs all it ever was. Rest. He didnât want to see you rest all day, he didnât want you to be doomed to always be near this god damn bed. He wanted to go see the world with you. To take you on dates. To show you another cave again, just you and him. But all he could do was wait. And it killed him because no matter what, he couldnât fight this with all his power, he was damned to wait, to let you rest. To get his hopes high only to have them crushed again while he had to watch you break and then repeat the cycle.Â
He stayed with you as Hongo finally managed to steady you. The crew didnât want to leave Shanks alone with you tonight though and were doing a rotation to stay. Hongo stayed first followed by Beckman then Limejuice, Roux, Howling Gab and so on until the sun went down and Shanks insisted that they didnât have to stay that he could handle it. Â
With the crew gone the ship was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made every thought louder. Shanks didn't handled it well. Not this time and for the first time he had asked Beckman to stay with you because he needed some air.Â
On deck Shanks looked at the crates full of rum and his feet moved automatically towards it. He grabbed the bottle and opened it taking a big sip, then another. The bottle in his hand was nearly empty by the time he made it down the corridor.
His steps werenât steady. Not the confident, grounded walk of a Yonko, but just⊠a man. A man who was losing the person he loved piece by piece and himself with her.Â
The infirmary door creaked open as he stepped inside. Beckmanâs head turned and one look at Shanks told him that he had been drinking. But for once Beckman didnât scold him, not this time, it wasnât an excuse but he knew that Shanks needed this.Â
âYou can go now Beck, thanks for staying,â Shanks mumbled towards his first mate who wanted to argue that it would be better if he stayed but decided against it and instead got up placed a hand on Shanksâ shoulder as he passed him and told him to call if he needed anything.Â
Shanks approached you, not bothering to be quiet. He didn't bother pretending he was okay because he wasnât and with only you in the room there was no one left to be fooled.Â
You lay exactly the way Hongo had laid you down. Still, so damn still. The soft rise and fall of your chest was the only thing tethering you to him anymore. Shanks stood there for a moment just looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize every detail, every line of your face, every strand of your hair, as if even that could be taken from him.
ââŠhey, love.â he rasped his voice rough and unsteady. Nothing like the man you knew. He stumbled slightly as he moved closer, dragging the chair beside your bed even closer before practically dropping into it. For a second, he just⊠sat there, silently and then his hand reached out, his fingers brushing yours, tracing over them lightly and carefully. He smiled your skin still so soft.Â
And then all of a sudden everything shattered inside him. A mix of fury, fear and hurt washing over him ââŠthis isnât funny anymore.â A weak laugh left him, but it broke halfway through. His grip tightened around your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to wake you up through touch alone. âYouâve⊠youâve had your fun, alright?â he muttered, voice cracking. âYou can stop now, this isn't a joke anynore.â
But of course there was nothing coming from you. No reaction, no teasing reply, no stuck out tongue or a soft smile. Nothing but silence was all there was.Â
His head dropped forward, shoulders trembling. ââŠI'm sorry I didn't mean to.....I just donât know what to do,â he whispered this time quieter than before. No sign of the strong Yonko. âIâve fought emperors⊠faced down death more times than I can countâŠâ he choked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. âBut this? This is what takes me down?â
His hand dragged over his face, but it didnât stop the tears that finally slipped through, uncontrolled and impossible to be held back any longer. The man who had been through hell but came out smiling every time was for the first time in his life utterly lost and fearing that he was finally facing a battle he wasnât sure he could win.Â
âDo you rememberâŠ?â He asked, his voice softening and so damn fragile now. Like he was afraid even speaking too loudly would break whatever invisible thread still connected you. âThat little cove I showed you?â he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, while his tears kept falling freely. âYou said the water looked like glass⊠said if we stayed there long enough, the world might forget us.â
A shaky breath left him. âI told you I wouldnât mind that,â he mumbled his lips trembling slightly. ââŠlong as I had you.â He leaned forward, elbow resting on his knee, your hand still trapped in his. âYou always laughed at me when I got sentimental,â he whispered. âSaid I was too soft for a pirate.â A faint, broken smile flickered across his face. ââŠbut you loved it, you loved that I was this soft for you,â he said and his voice cracked again. âYou loved me and nowâŠ.now everything is broken.âÂ
Tears fell again, some trickling down onto your hand as he held it close, pressing his cheek against it to feel your warmth till the tears stopped. But all that answered him was silence, again, as always. No âI still love you, jerkâ. Just this heavy silence again. Â
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt just enough to feel like everything was fine, like you were justâŠ..sleeping. âCome back to me,â he whispered, more desperate now. âPlease⊠justâjust come back.â His head lowered until his forehead pressed against the back of your hand, his shoulders shaking harder now. âI donât care if you forget everything else,â he choked out. âForget the crew, forget the ship, forgetâhell, forget the entire damn worldâ,â he shouted, his voice breaking completely. âBut not me.â A single hot tear slipped down onto your hand, âDonât forget meâŠ,â he pleaded.Â
The room suddenly felt smaller, heavier. Like it couldnât hold everything he was pouring into it. âI was going to ask you something,â he murmured after a moment, voice quieter and hollow. âWe were supposed to go back to that cove. I'd have called it a date, butâŠâ He let out a shaky breath. âThat wouldn't have been all.â
His fingers tightened slightly around yours. âI was going to ask you to stay. Not just on the shipââ his voice faltered, emotion catching in his throat. ââbut with me. Properly,â he continued a weak laugh escaping his lips. âI mean⊠you already have my heart, donât you?â he muttered. âFigured it was about time I made it official.â
His head lifted slightly, red-rimmed eyes locking onto your unmoving face. ââŠyou were going to say yes and I would have been the luckiest bastard in the grand line.â It wasnât a question. It was something he needed to believe, something to remind him what he was fighting for. âDonât take that away from me too. Donât leave me behind,â he pleaded.Â
For a long moment, he just stared at you. Like he was waiting, praying and begging for anything. A twitch that you had heard him, a hitch of your breath that you were still in there, a sign that you were okay and still loved him. But nothing came.Â
His composure finally gave out completely. Shanks leaned forward, carefully, almost reverently, pressing his forehead against yours. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing weakly against your cheek. âI canât do this without you,â he admitted, voice barely audible now. âI donât want to.â Another breath hitched in his chest. âYouâre⊠youâre everything, (Y/N). Iâve already lost so much donât make me add you to that list.â
His lips hovered near your temple for a moment before pressing a soft, lingering kiss there. ââŠso donât you dare leave me here alone.â
For a second, just a second, your fingers twitched in his grasp. Faintly, barely there but real and Shanks froze. His breath catching and that dangerous, fragile and terrifying hope was flaring back up in his chest as he took it as a sign that you had truly heard him. ââŠ(Y/N)?â He asked warily but no response.Â
But he didnât let go, he couldnât, not ever because he had to claw at these tiny moments, these straws to not break completely. He had to tell himself that it wasnât over because if he didnât, he knew his world would plunge into darkness. ââŠ(Y/N)?â
Shanks didnât breathe. Didnât dare to move. His entire world narrowed down to that one tiny movement of your fingers. That barely there twitch in his grasp that felt like a fragile signal from somewhere far away. â(Y/N)âŠ?â he tried for the third time now, softer this time, like he was afraid the moment might shatter if he spoke too loud.
For a second, nothing happened and he felt that old cruel hurt flare up again. That painful moment where hope was ripped from him until suddenly your lashes fluttered, slow and unsteady, like it took everything in you just to open your eyes.
Relief hit him so hard it was almost painful. âHeyâhey, thatâs it,â he breathed, immediately leaning closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. âCome on, love⊠Iâm right here.â
Your eyes opened. They were a bit clouded and unfocused though. But to Shanks it was enough to let a small smile tug at his lips, it was a bit broken, it was tear-streaked, desperate but it was real.Â
âThere you are,â he whispered. âTook you long enough,â he breathed, relief washing over him. His thumb brushed gently against your skin, grounding, familiar, something he had done a thousand times before. Something that had always made you lean into him.
But not this time, instead your brows pulled together and a flicker of confusion crossed your face. Followed by discomfort and then something sharper. Your head shifted weakly against the pillow, your gaze trying to track him like he was something you couldnât quite place.
ââŠwhoâŠ?â The word was faint and barely there but it landed like a blade straight throug his chest. He had just spilled his heart out to you, prayed, begged and pleaded for you to come back and as you did the fragile hope that had flared up in his chest was now ripped from him once again and you were back at that dreadful place again.Â
His smile didnât fall right away, it just stopped being there. Like his face didnât quite understand what he had just heard. Like he couldnât believe that after everything he had just said you could be back at zero. ââŠhey,â he said quietly, softer now, like maybe you just needed a moment. âItâs me.â
But your expression didnât change, if anything it only got worse - more confused and more uncertain. You looked down and saw your hand in his. You had no clue why or what was going on and when your hand twitched it wasnât to reach for him or tighten the grip, no it was to pull away from the stranger sitting next of you.Â
Shanks felt it and he stared in utter disbelief because that, that hurt. That was another blow he wasnât prepared for, another reminder that he could still lose you forever. ââŠ(Y/N),â he tried again, voice tight, barely holding together. âItâs Shanks.â
You tilted your head slightly, looking at him but there was nothing. You didnât know who this man was, the name didnât remind you of anyone. There was no recognition and no warmth spreading through you. There was only distance.Â
âI donâtâŠâ you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted over his face like you were trying to force something to click. âI donât know you.â
There it was again. Clearer this time. And the worst, it sounded final, making something inside him snap. Not loudly, not violently, just like something was gone now. His grip loosened and he released your hand slowly and carefully. Like letting go of you too fast might break something even worse. ââŠyeah,â he murmured under his breath, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. âRight⊠right,â he huffed, hurt and frustrated and leaned back slightly, putting just enough space between you to stop overwhelming you. But even now, even like this, even with you throwing blow after blow at him, unintentionally of course, he didnât stop thinking about you, letting his thoughts revolve around you.Â
You watched him give you space and you tried to figure him out but your brain wouldnât let you. It was as if there was a curtain before it that you couldnât remove. You tried harder and harder but nothing, the curtain wouldnât budge. Your breathing started to pick up and become uneven and your body tensed like his presence alone made you uncomfortable.
ââŠwhere am I?â you asked, your voice small, fragile in a completely different way.
Shanks swallowed hard but forced his own unease. âThe Red Force,â he answered quietly. âMy ship.â
You blinked at him confused. ââŠyour shipâŠâ you repeated, like the words didnât mean anything. Your gaze dropped to your own hands and you looked at them like they didnât belong to you. ââŠand IâmâŠ?â
That question. Again. Shanks closed his eyes for a second, just one. Because if he didnât he wasnât sure heâd be able to hold it together at all. âYouâre (Y/N),â he said finally, voice softer than it had ever been. âYouâre⊠you,â he added leaving everything else out. Sure it felt wrong, incomplete, but he couldnât bring himself to say more. Not when you were looking at him like he was a stranger, like he was nothing to you.Â
Your lips parted slightly. ââŠI donât feel like anyone,â you admitted quietly.
The words hit harder this time. Because now he was right in front of you. Watching your spiraling happen step by step. A sharp breath left him before he could stop it. His hand curled slightly against his knee, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. ââŠthatâs okay,â he said, though it sounded strained. âYou donât have to figure it out right now, we all feel lost sometimes.â
Your eyes flickered back to him, hesitant and careful ââŠwhy were you holding my hand?â you asked almost innocently with those wide eyes.Â
That nearly broke him all over again. He stared at you for a moment. At the girl who had once clung to him without hesitation, who had laughed with him, teased him, loved him so openly it had felt like the easiest thing in the world. And now you were asking him why he had touched you. Something that had been so normal, was now something you didnât understand.Â
Shanks forced a small, tight smile. The kind that didnât reach his eyes but he hoped that in your state right now it wouldnât matter and that you wouldnât see through it anyways. ââŠI thought it might help,â he said quietly. âSometimes it does.â
It wasnât a lie. Just⊠not the full truth. Not the truth he couldnât say out loud without falling apart in front of you. But it was enough for you now and you seemed to accept that. You were too tired to question it further because your eyes drifted slightly, exhaustion pulling at you again.
Shanks noticed immediately, of course he did, he noticed everything about you. ââŠyou should rest,â he murmured, his voice instinctively dropping despite everything. âYour bodyâs still recovering.â
Your gaze lingered on him for a second longer, you were searching for something, something that seemed to be missing, like he was a puzzle that you were missing some pieces but you found nothing.Â
ââŠokay,â you whispered, not fighting the exhaustion anymore.Â
He stood slowly, like every movement took effort, like his body didnât quite belong to him anymore. For a brief second, it looked like he might reach for you again but he stopped himself. His hand hovering in the air before falling back to his side.
ââŠIâll be nearby,â he said instead. âIn case you need anything.â
You didnât answer. Your eyes had already started to close again. Shanks stood there for a moment longer. Just watching you, like he was trying to memorize you all over again. This version of you, the one that didnât know him. Before he turned and walked out the alcohol in his blood seemed to have been drained out of him from this conversation, this confession and that cruel reality.Â
For the first time he didnât sleep in the infirmary with you and when the door closed softly behind him, his composure shattered. His back hit the wall in the hallway, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as his shoulders shook violently. A broken sound forced its way out anyway. ââŠshe asked me who I was, againâŠâ The words barely made it out. Like saying them would make it too real.
Down the hall, footsteps approached. ââŠShanksââ Beckman stopped short when he saw him before walking faster towards him.Â
Shanks dragged a hand down his face, but it didnât help. Nothing did. âShe was justââ his voice cracked again, frustration and grief tangling together. ââshe was just there, Beck. Right in front of me and sheââ He laughed but there was nothing remotely humorous about it. ââshe didnât even hesitate, I poured my heart out and she, she looked at me like I was nothing again.â
Beckman exhaled slowly, stepping closer but not crowding him.
ââŠand tomorrow?â he said quietly. Shanks shook his head, a hollow smile pulling at his lips. âTomorrow she might love me again,â he rasped because that was the worst part. ââŠand Iâll let her,â he added, voice breaking completely now. âEvery time because I canât imagine a life without her.â
Beckman could feel the pain Shanks was going through. The crew, everyone wanted you back, you were family and they loved you all but the worst was seeing their Captain like this. The man who was usually such a charmer, who was loud, joyful and smiling was now reduced to this. The sight was gnawing at Beckman and he didnât hesitate, he pulled Shanks in and just held him and for the first time Shanks let himself be held by his first mate.Â
Only when Shanks calmed down a bit did Beckman let go and call for Lucky Roux and Hongo, telling them to get Shanks to his cabin and give him something so he could for once sleep while promising Shanks that he would look after you.Â
Back in the infirmary you shifted slightly in your sleep. Your fingers curling faintly against the sheets. A whisper slipped past your lips. ââŠShanksâŠâ
to be continued.....
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian @sweetsaltygingerbitch @mapachito @preeyas-world (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
Summary: Just x Drake being.... Drake.
Word count: 1100
Notes: x Drake x gn!reader. I'm still struggling to write, but couldn't help this. I needed this little treat to reward myself after these hard days at work.
It all kind of just⊠happened. One of those moments where you somehow find the guts to suggest something without really knowing where that courage came from.
"We could watch it at my place," he had said, at work, during one of those shared pauses in front of the coffee machine.
"Sure!" you had smiled at him. The first time, maybe, and in such a beautiful way that he kept thinking about it well past lunch, past dinner, and all the way into the next day.
And exactly thirty days went by.
The documentary was one of those highly anticipated releases among science enthusiasts everywhere. Steven Spielberg, no less, directing it, with the world's top scientists advising every frame, all in pursuit of the hidden forces that sent that fateful meteorite crashing into Earth and taking the dinosaurs down with it. Streaming in one month from the moment you'd spoken.
Thirty days during which Drake got ready as if the documentary's worldwide success rested entirely on his shoulders.
At first, he didn't think much of it. He marked the day in his digital calendar, sure, but nothing more, convincing himself it wouldn't be all that different from when Helmeppo and the others came over for a gaming session. But as the days went by - days during which, as it happened, he never once ran into you by the coffee machine - stealthy little thoughts began creeping in: whether the color of his living room walls was warm enough; whether his sofa was comfortable and wide enough for two. He thought about the decor too. Too many paintings? Too few?
He eventually landed on putting out a little of everything, and reading the room when you arrived: sushi if the vibe called for it, a premium quality steak if not, or burgers with a vegan option just in case. And so, his fridge filled up with just-in-cases as the date drew closer.
And dinnerâŠthe documentary dropped at nine. Would you have eaten already? Probably not. It was on him, as the host, to sort out drinks and food . But what? Something that wouldn't make it look like you were having⊠a date? The mere thought made him flush. No. He didn't do dates. This was not a date by any stretch of the imagination. Beers, like when the others came over? But what if you didn't like beer? Popcorn? No, no, no... too date-y. Burgers, then. But what if you were vegetarian?
A couple of throw pillows he thought you might like started decorating the sofa three days out. A flower appeared on the coffee table, only to be removed five minutes later on the grounds of being inappropriate. And Drake checked, every day - sometimes every hour- that the HDMI cables running through his bass-heavy sound system were working, and that his streaming subscription was paid up, current, and ready to go.
Everything was in order, yes, he told himself as he rehearsed opening the door and stepping aside to let you in first. Again and again.
It was just a documentary. Of course it was just a documentary. One for which he had, admittedly, done considerable research, just in case he found the courage to casually drop some knowledge on you, given that he was, naturally, something of an expert on the subject.
So why all the fuss?
And then, as it turned out, the documentary was cancelled one day before its release. Regular subscribers barely noticed. Meteorite and dinosaur enthusiasts accepted their fate with resignation. Drake, however, was devastated.
And it wasn't until he was sitting on his sofa, new cushions and all, TV roaring to life through those freshly calibrated speakers, scrolling desperately through whatever was left to watch, and realizing that shows he would have laughed off on any other day suddenly seemed like a perfectly good idea if you were there with him, that it hit him.
He was in love with you.
Sadness filled that cream-walled living room that still smelled of fresh paint. His plan, cancelled. The chance to spend time alone with you, wiped clean off the map. And on top f that, it had been whole month without seeing you.
His insecurity crept in and whispered that maybe you'd never been interested in the documentary at all. That you'd only said yes to be polite. That deep down you probably thought he was a boring nerd. And who would want to be with a boring nerd? Koby and the others, sure, but girls.... romantically?
Drake let his broad back fall against the sofa cushions, cracking open one of the five different sodas he'd lined up for the occasion, when his phone rang with an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi."
Your voice, he realized, heart stupidly jumping.
"Hi," he croaked.
"Sorry for calling out of the blue. I-I asked the guys for your number. I hope that's okay. I kept meaning to catch you at work but every time I tried you looked really busy."
"Yes", was the only thing the dumbfounded man could manage.
"I, um... I don't know if you remember, hahahaa, but we had plans today to watch the Steven Spielberg documentary... "
"Huh?" Drake said, still unable to process the fact that you were calling him. Him.
"You don't remember?"
"No, I-I.." he rushed to correct himself. "Yes. Of course I remember."
"Well... I don't know if you've seen it, but it's been cancelled."
Your voice sounded like a melody from the other end of the line, and he furrowed his brow, trying to keep his grip on reality.
"I know, yeah, I saw."
"Well... I hope this isn't too bold of me, but I'm here right now, just outside that old video rental place on the corner, you know the one? The one that's closing in a few months, and I noticed they had Mysteries of the Solar System available to rent. I don't know if you've already seen it..."
Of course he'd seen it. Five or six times per episode, the last one seven times for being the most interesting.
"It's a pre-2006 series. The hypotheses are outdated. It still refers to Pluto as a planet," he flatly stated.
"Oh..." You sounded deflated. "Right, okay, sorry. It was a silly idea. Forgive me-"
"No, no, wait, I didn't mean-" He clapped a sweaty hand over the speaker, cursing himself and his monumental stupidity. "I'd love to watch it again."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Well then... I'm a couple of streets away from your place. Is ten minutes enough time to get ready?"
Drake glanced around his immaculate living room and swallowed hard before answering.
Like where do i get a man like this in real life who buys 'just-in-case-food' this is so adorable. Oh my god and then he gets pillows just for me and seriously puts so much effort in it đđđđđ
And then you kill me again when i read that the documentary was cancelled....đłđłđłđł
But I'm glad it didn't end like that.....đđđđ
I love that awkward and sweet phone call between them. I feel like awkwardness is just so real life related and one of the things that in always make me blush even while reading it đ đ
