Smoke Break With A View- Smoker X Female!Reader (ft. Zoro kinda) -18+!- SMUT
A/N: someone request Zoro watching Y/N with someone else and realizing his feelings for her. I chose Smoker, but I'll probably write a part 2 or another story entirely, focusing entirely on Zoro's pov. Enjoy.
"You're the perfect bait for this job," Luffy grinned, slapping Y/N on the back. His teeth gleamed in the moonlit night as he outlined the plan.
Y/N rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure, because I'm so irresistible," she quipped, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Exactly!" Luffy exclaimed, oblivious to her sarcasm. "You're the only one who can distract Smoker while we grab those documents. Just remember, the crew is counting on you!"
Nami smirked, tracing a line on the map with her finger. "We'll be right behind you, but if things get too...heated, we'll jump in. Don't you worry."
Y/N sighed. "Alright, I'll do it," she murmured, steeling herself for the challenge ahead.
---
Y/N sauntered into the dimly lit tavern, her hips swaying with the grace of a siren as she scanned the room. The air was thick with the scent of ale and sweat, but she had no time for distraction. Her eyes locked onto her target—Smoker, the elusive Marine, seated at the bar with a glass of whiskey in hand. The crackle of his cigarette was the only sound in the room as she approached, her heart racing like a caged animal anticipating the hunt.
Subtlety was her weapon of choice, and she wielded it with the finesse of a seasoned seductress. She sidled up to the bar, the soft rustle of her clothing echoing through the silent tavern as she took a seat just a breath away from him. The barkeep slid a mug of rum in her direction, a knowing wink in his eye. She took a slow, deliberate sip, allowing the warm liquid to caress her tongue before swallowing with a sultry smile. Smoker's gaze flickered towards her, a spark of curiosity igniting in his steely eyes.
Leaning closer, she whispered, "You know, I've heard stories about a man like you," her voice a velvety purr. "They say you're as dangerous as the smoke that surrounds you." She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a drag of his cigarette, the tip flaring red before he exhaled a cloud of smoke that curled around her like a lover's embrace. The tension was palpable, a silent dance of attraction and challenge.
Y/N leaned over the bar, her ample breasts straining against her shirt as she flagged the bartender for another round. The fabric of her clothing clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Smoker's eyes dipped for a moment, his gaze lingering before snapping back to hers. His hand inched closer to hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she had him hooked.
Smoker's grip tightened on his whiskey, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to pull her into his arms. She could feel the power in his touch, a power she found both terrifying and intoxicating.
"What's a beauty like you doing in a place like this?" His voice was gruff, a stark contrast to the velvet caress of his eyes.
"Looking for a...distraction," she replied, her voice dripping with innuendo as she traced her finger along the rim of her glass.
A smirk played across his lips. "And what makes you think you can handle a distraction like me?"
The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, but Y/N was no stranger to danger. She leaned closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I'd be more than happy to show you."
He turned to face her fully now, their bodies a hair's breadth apart. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the desire that mirrored her own. His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer still. "Is that so?" he murmured, the smoke from his cigarette tickling her nose.
Their lips met in a fiery kiss, a dance of tongues and teeth that spoke of passion and urgency. Y/N's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscles beneath his shirt. His hand slid up her thigh, his touch as warm as embers against her skin. She gasped into his mouth, her body already primed and ready for the storm that was about to break.
Lips still locked in a passionate embrace, Smoker's hand slithered under Y/N's skirt like a serpent seeking warmth. His fingertips grazed the soft, damp fabric of her underwear, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smoke that surrounded them. His movements were deceptively slow, each touch a silent promise of the storm to come.
Their kiss grew rougher, more demanding, as if they were both fighting for air and only found it in the depths of each other's mouths. His hand found her slick entrance, the heat of her desire coating his fingers as he delved deeper, exploring the velvety folds of her sex with a hunger that was impossible to conceal. Y/N's breath hitched, a muffled whine escaping her lips as she ground her hips against his hand, silently begging for more.
Through the haze of lust, Y/N was aware of the eyes on them. Zoro, ever the vigilant protector, was watching from the shadows. The thought of him seeing her in such a compromising position sent a thrill of excitement through her body, making her wetter still. She knew he was there, knew he was watching, and she couldn't help but arch her back, pushing her breasts into Smoker's chest.
--
Zoro's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening as he took in the scene before him. He could see the tension in Smoker's shoulders, the way his fingers moved beneath her skirt, and the way Y/N's body responded to his touch. The sight of it made his blood boil with a mix of lust and possessiveness. He knew she was their key to the documents, but watching her with another man was a test of his resolve.
--
Before she could climax, Smoker abruptly pulled his fingers out of her, a smug smile playing on his lips as he licked them clean. "Let's take this somewhere more private," he murmured against her neck, his breath hot and tantalizing. Y/N's eyes fluttered open, a look of surprise and excitement on her face. She nodded, knowing that she had to play her part to perfection.
With a gentle but firm hand, Smoker guided her out of the tavern, his gaze never leaving hers as they stepped into the cool night air. The cobblestone streets were deserted, the only sound was the clack of their shoes against the stones. He led her to a nearby inn, the flickering candles in the windows casting an inviting glow.
Smoker, his eyes glinting with the light of his cigarette, led Y/N through a dimly lit corridor. His hand firm on her ass, he guided her into a small, private room. As soon he closed the door, he pushed her against the cold, hard wall. The suddenness of his actions took her breath away, but she didn't have the time to react before his mouth found hers in a fiery kiss.
His lips were demanding, his tongue coaxing hers into a passionate dance as his free hand roamed her body, tracing the curves of her waist and the swell of her breasts. Y/N felt the heat rising in her cheeks and a familiar ache between her legs. She was caught off guard by the intensity of his desire, but her hunger for him grew with every passing second.
As the kiss deepened, Smoker's hand slid down to the hem of her shirt, lifting it to expose her soft, supple skin to the warmth of his touch. He trailed his fingers up her stomach, the anticipation building as he reached the clasp of her bra. With a flick of his thumb, it popped open, freeing her breasts to the cool air. He broke the kiss to gaze at her, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of her bared flesh, the soft peaks of her nipples begging for his attention.
The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths, the only light coming from the swaying lantern above them, casting a flickering glow on their faces. Y/N's heart raced, her body responding to his every touch with an eagerness she couldn't hide.
Y/N gasped as Smoker's mouth found her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin and sending a shiver down her spine. His hands continued to explore, pushing her skirt down to reveal the wetness already gathering between her legs. He stepped back, a smug smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of her vulnerability. His eyes flickered with power, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around his head like a halo of desire.
The moment was electric, the air thick with lust as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You're mine now." His voice was a low growl, filled with dominance and promise. Y/N's knees weakened, her body quivering with anticipation of what was to come. But little did Snoker know, their passionate embrace was being observed through a crack in the curtain, Zoro's eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him, his mind racing with thoughts of his own.
With a firm grip, Smoker turned Y/N around, pressing her breast against the wall once more. He reached around, his hand cupping her sex, his fingers slipping inside her with a practiced ease. She moaned, her body arching back into his touch, her breath hitching with every stroke. The sound of his fingers in her echoing in the room, a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart.
The scent of their desire mingled with the smoke from Smoker's cigarette, creating a heady aroma that seemed to intoxicate them both. He leaned into her, his chest pressing against her back as he continued to pleasure her, his own need growing with every second. Y/N's thoughts were a blur of sensation, her body craving more of his touch.
With a sudden surge of boldness, she reached back, her hand slipping into his pants. Her delicate fingers wrapped around his thick, hard cock, and she began to pump it slowly, her movements tentative at first but growing bolder as she felt him respond. His breathing grew ragged, his hips jerking slightly with every stroke. His grip on her hip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh as he guided her into a rhythm that matched the one he had set between her thighs.
Y/N felt the power shift slightly, her own desires coming to the forefront. She knew she was in control of his pleasure, and it sent a thrill through her. But she also knew that she was playing with fire. Smoker was not a man to be denied for long, and she could feel the beast within him stirring, eager to claim her fully.
The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Smoker grew impatient. He spun her around and with one swift movement, pushed her to her knees. His cock, now freed from its confines, stood tall and proud before her, a testament to his need. He didn't ask for permission, didn't bother with sweet nothings or gentle coaxing. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was to claim her completely, to leave her trembling and begging for more.
Her eyes locked on his, she leaned forward, her tongue darting out to taste him. He was salty and smoky, the essence of his power and lust rolled into one delicious flavor. She took him in her mouth, her lips sliding down his shaft as he groaned in pleasure. His hand found its way into her hair, guiding her, pushing her to take more of him. She gagged slightly, her eyes watering, but she didn't stop. Instead, she took it as a challenge, a declaration of his dominance that she was more than willing to meet with her own brand of submission.
The taste of him was intoxicating, and she found herself lost in the act of pleasuring him, her mind a whirl of sensation. His grip on her hair tightened as he grew closer to the edge, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. Y/N knew she was close to victory, but she also knew that this was just the beginning of their dance of power and passion.
But as she knelt there, her mouth full of his cock, she couldn't help but wonder if Zoro was still watching from his hidden vantage point. The thought of his piercing gaze upon her sent a shiver down her spine, a delicious mix of fear and excitement. It was a thrill she hadn't expected, a taboo desire that she didn't dare voice, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Yet, it was there, a silent confession to the voyeuristic thrill that pulsed through her veins.
Smoker's hand tangled in her hair, pulling her back before slamming into her mouth once more, his hips bucking as he reached his peak. The feel of his hot cum shooting into her mouth sent her own desire spiraling out of control, her body aching for the release that was sure to come. But she had to keep her focus, had to maintain the façade that she was only here for one thing - to satisfy the marine captain who held her life in his hands.
The salty tang of his semen filled her mouth, and she swallowed it eagerly, her eyes never leaving his. He watched her, his own eyes glazed with lust as he came down from his high. For a moment, they just stared at each other, both of them panting and spent, their bodies a testament to the passion that had just been shared.
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of sex and the knowledge that they were dancing on a knife's edge.
With a growl that was more animal than human, Smoker reached down, grabbed Y/N by the waist, and tossed her onto the nearby bed. She bounced once before her body settled into the plush mattress, the softness a stark contrast to the rough treatment she had just endured. Yet, she craved more, her body begging for the kind of passionate ravishment that only a man like Smoker could provide.
He followed her down, his body a blur of movement as he positioned himself between her legs. His eyes, now a fiery red, were filled with a hunger that seemed to devour her very soul. He didn't bother with subtlety or seduction. This was raw, primal lust, and Y/N was more than ready to be consumed by it.
Starting at her ankles, he began to kiss and nip his way up her legs, his teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire that had her squirming beneath him. His hands were like steel bands, gripping her thighs and spreading them wide. He took his time, savoring every inch of her skin as he moved closer to the apex of her desire.
When he reached her panties, he didn't bother to remove them. Instead, he tore them away, revealing her glistening pussy to his eager gaze. His eyes narrowed, his breath hot against her sex as he took in the sight of her arousal. Then, without warning, his mouth was on her, his tongue plunging deep, lapping at her clit with a fervor that left her gasping for air.
Y/N's nails dug into the bed, the fabric tearing under her grip as she arched her back, offering herself up to his hungry mouth. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his tongue circling her opening before delving back in. She could feel his breath hot against her, the smoke from his cigarette mingling with the scent of their desire as he feasted on her like a starving man.
Her hips bucked against his mouth, her body writhing as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. He knew just how to touch her, how to make her scream his name and beg for more. And she did, her voice echoing through the small cabin, a symphony of pleasure that was music to his ears.
But even as she neared climax, she couldn't shake the thought of Zoro, catching a glimpse of him watching them from the shadows. It was a thrill that only added to her arousal, a dark secret that she held close, a forbidden fruit that she dare not share with the man currently claiming her body.
Zoro's eyes were glued to the crack in the curtains, his hand moving in his pants as he watched his comrade succumb to Smoker's touch. He felt a twinge of jealousy, his desires stirring as he took in the sight of Y/N's body writhing in pleasure. He knew he should be out there, fighting alongside his crew, but the scene before him was too tempting to ignore. He wished he was the one driving her wild, the one making her scream.
His grip tightened around his cock, his strokes growing more furious as he watched Smoker's head bob between her legs. The sounds of her pleasure filled the air, a siren's call to his own primal instincts. He could feel his own orgasm building, his body tense with the need to claim what he saw.
Above them, the lantern swayed, casting erratic shadows on the walls. The flickering light played over their bodies, a silent observer to their illicit encounter. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, her moans growing louder with each pass of Smoker's tongue. And all the while, Zoro watched, his own breaths coming in harsh gasps as he stroked himself in time with the marine's movements.
The rage grew within him, his need to dominate and possess Y/N becoming more than he could bear. He had to have her, had to show her who her true master was. The thought of it had him on the edge, his orgasm just out of reach.
With a snarl, Smoker flipped her over onto her stomach, her breasts pressing into the bed and her ass in the air. She gasped as he smacked her firmly, the sound echoing through the room. Again and again, his hand fell, the impact leaving a warm, stinging sensation that only served to make her wetter. Each smack was accompanied by a moan from her, her body jolting with each strike.
He took a moment to admire the red handprints on her alabaster skin, the way her cheeks jiggled with each hit. It was a sight that made his cock throb even more, the power of his hand leaving its mark on her body. He could feel his lust for her reaching a crescendo, his body demanding release.
Gripping her hips, Smoker aligned his purplish cock with her wet folds. He could feel her heat, her desire for him, and it made him even more eager to claim her. He teased her, sliding his length through her slickness, the tip of his cock grazing her clit before retreating. Y/N's whimpers grew more desperate, her body begging for his invasion.
But Smoker was not one to be rushed, not even by his own desires. He took his time, enjoying the way she squirmed beneath him. He knew she was close, could feel it in the tension of her muscles, the way her pussy clenched around his cock. But he held back, the anticipation only adding to the intensity of the moment.
With one final, harsh smack to her ass, he thrust into her, filling her completely with one swift movement. She screamed his name, the sound muffled by the pillow she'd buried her face in. The force of his entry sent shockwaves through her body, her muscles clamping down around his cock. He didn't give her time to adjust, instead pulling her hair to arch her back and plunge deeper, his hips pistoning into her without mercy.
The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging against the wall. Y/N's breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, the sensation of his grip on her hair and the pinch of his fingers on her nipples sending bolts of pleasure through her body. She felt like she was being claimed, owned by the very essence of the man behind her.
Her eyes fluttered shut, the sensation of Smoker's cock stretching her pussy and his fingers playing with her clit overwhelming. Yet, even as she lost herself in the moment, she was acutely aware of the presence outside their little world, the eyes that bore into her from the darkness. The thrill of being watched, of being the star of this illicit performance, had her panting and writhing, her body responding to the unspoken demands of the voyeur in the shadows.
Smoker's strokes grew more erratic, his breaths coming in short, harsh bursts as he approached his own climax. Each thrust was punctuated by a grunt, his grip on her hair tightening until she thought she might pass out from the pleasure-pain. But she didn't want it to end, didn't want this moment of pure, unbridled passion to be over.
As he reached his peak, Y/N felt the warm flood of his cum fill her, the sensation pushing her over the edge as well. Her body convulsed around him, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave. She screamed, the sound echoing through the cabin, the force of it shaking the very foundation of their illicit union.
Through the crack in the curtains, Zoro watched, his hand moving faster and faster over his own cock. The sight of Smoker claiming Y/N, the sound of her pleasure, it was too much. With a roar, he came, his seed spurting out to paint the wooden roof above. His body jerked, his climax so intense it was almost painful.
For a moment, all was still, the only sound the harsh panting of the two lovers inside the cabin. Then, as if the world had come back into focus, Zoro realized what he'd just done. He quickly tucked himself back into his pants, his cheeks burning with a mix of shame and arousal. He knew he couldn't stay there, not now, not after witnessing such an intimate moment.
With one last, lingering glance at the passionate scene unfolding before him, Zoro turned to leave, his body still thrumming with the echoes of his own climax. But as he moved to slip away into the shadows, a sudden sound from the cabin made him freeze.
Inside, Y/N was now riding Smoker, her hips rolling and bucking as he held her ass, his cock buried deep within her. The sight was too much to resist, and Zoro felt his arousal stirring once more, his cock thickening with the desire to claim what he'd just seen.
On the bed, Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, her body moving in a sinuous rhythm that had Smoker's eyes glazed with pleasure. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and he took full advantage, his teeth and tongue playing with the sensitive peaks. The room was a cacophony of their moans and the slap of flesh against flesh, a symphony of desire that seemed to pulse through the very air.
Smoker's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he urged her to go faster, deeper. Y/N's nails dug into his chest, leaving red streaks that stood out against his tanned skin. Her pussy was tight, clamping down on his cock with every downward stroke, the friction driving him closer to the edge.
Zoro watched, his own hand moving in his pants as he took in the sight of Smoker's cock disappearing into Y/N's willing body. He could see the sheen of sweat on their bodies, the way their muscles strained with every movement. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a battle of wills that had his blood pumping with excitement. He knew he should leave, knew that he was invading their privacy, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
The sight of Y/N's ass bouncing up and down on Smoker's cock was almost too much to bear. He could see the way she took him in, her body stretching to accommodate his length. He felt his own desire build, his cock hardening even more as he pumped his fist in time with their movements. He bit his lip to stifle a groan, the taste of his own saliva mixing with the bitter taste of his own arousal.
But as the sounds of their passion grew louder, so did the guilt. Zoro knew that he couldn't just stand there and watch. He had to decide if he was going to act on his desires or step back and let the moment pass. The conflict raged within him, his need to claim her warring with his loyalty to his crew. Yet, the sight of her in the throes of pleasure, the way she moved her hips in a silent invitation, had him questioning his resolve.
Finally, unable to bear the torment any longer, he stepped away from the curtain, his heart racing in his chest. He had to get back to the ship, had to make sure that the rest of the Straw Hats were safe. But as he slipped into the night, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing, a desire to be the one making her scream in ecstasy.
Inside the cabin, Y/N's orgasm washed over her a final time, her body trembling with the force of it. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut as Smoker's name left her lips in a keening wail. He followed her over the edge, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself into her willing body.
They lay there, panting and spent, their bodies entangled in the aftermath of passion. The room was still, the only sound was the harsh breaths that filled the air. And through it all, the lingering scent of their desire, a potent reminder of what had just transpired.
Yet, even as she lay there, her body sated and her mind at peace, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. A sense of unease tickled the back of her mind, a whisper of a thought that grew louder with each passing second.
A/N: I tried posting this months ago to show i wasn't gone but it wouldn't show up in tags and then other stuff happens, but great news.. I'm still here. Sad news: I no longer have access to a laptop so the format might be weird from now on. This is technically a part II to the Red King's Prize but I feel like Shanks is too nice.
Warnings: ummm if I remember correctly. Dp, anal, being tied up. Let me know what I missed
Y/N lay on her back, sweat glistening on her naked body, panting heavily as she stared at the ceiling above her. Her wrists were bound tightly to the frame of the bed with rope, leaving her completely at the mercy of the man standing before her. Shanks, the legendary captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, loomed over her, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in her wanton display. His piercing gaze was the only thing keeping her anchored in reality, the rest of her senses consumed by the raging sea of lust that had become their daily ritual.
"You're a wild one, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air of the cramped cabin. "It's been over a month, and you still can't get enough."
Her breath hitched as she felt the tip of his cock, thick and hot, press against her entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body craving the familiar invasion that had become a strange comfort in this tumultuous world.
"Please," she managed to whimper, her voice hoarse from the endless hours of screaming and moaning that had become the soundtrack of her captivity. "I need it."
Shanks chuckled, his calloused hand caressing the side of her face gently. "And you shall have it, my dear," he said, leaning down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss that sent sparks of pleasure racing through her body.
He didn't waste any time, plunging into her with a ferocity that made her eyes roll back. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by her cries of pleasure. His hand gripped her hips, lifting her off the bed with every thrust, driving himself deeper and deeper until she was sure she'd be split in two.
The door to the cabin swung open, revealing Beckman, Shanks' stoic first mate. He walked in with his usual air of authority, his eyes immediately drawn to the scene unfolding before him. Y/N felt a momentary pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly drowned out by the waves of pleasure that crashed over her. Beckman didn't even break stride, moving to the chart table in the corner of the room as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
"Captain," Beckman began, his voice businesslike despite the erotic symphony playing out just a few feet away. "We're making good time, but we're going to need to make a stop for supplies soon."
Shanks didn't break his rhythm, his eyes locked on Y/N's as he pounded into her. "Understood," he grunted, his voice strained. "Plot a course for the nearest port and prepare the crew."
Y/N's breasts bounced with every thrust, and she arched her back to give him better access. She could feel his cock stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. Her eyes met Beckman's, and she was surprised to find a hint of heat in his gaze. He watched them with a detached interest, his hand casually adjusting his trousers.
Her breath grew ragged as she approached her climax, her pussy tightening around Shanks' cock. He noticed the change in her and grinned, his pace becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. Beckman cleared his throat, breaking the spell between them.
"I'll leave you to your... business," Beckman said, his eyes flicking down to their joined bodies before he turned away to the charts.
The cabin door closed behind him, leaving them in their private world once more. Shanks leaned down, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You like having an audience, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dark with lust.
Y/N shivered, her body responding to his words. "It makes me feel... used," she admitted, her voice a breathy whisper.
He chuckled, his strokes becoming harder and more deliberate. "Good," he said, his breath hot against her neck. "That's exactly what you are."
The pressure inside her built, coiling tighter and tighter until she could no longer contain it. She screamed his name as she came, her body spasming around him. Shanks followed her over the edge, his own orgasm tearing through him like a storm.
But even as her tremors subsided, she knew it wasn't over. He hadn't given her permission to cum yet. He hadn't even finished speaking. Her eyes widened with fear and excitement as she felt him pull out of her, her body already mourning the loss of his thickness.
"You forgot to ask, didn't you?" he said, his tone mockingly disappointed. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're going to have to make it up to me."
Y/N swallowed hard, her body already responding to the challenge in his voice. She knew what was coming next, and she was both terrified and exhilarated by it. "What do you want?" she panted, her voice shaking slightly.
"I want you to cum for me," he said, his grip on her chin tightening. "Again and again, until I say you've had enough." His eyes were dark with desire, and she could see the glint of something primal in their depths. "Do you think you can handle that?"
Without waiting for an answer, he flipped her onto her stomach and pushed her legs apart, his cock sliding back into her slick warmth. He began to thrust again, harder and faster than before. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, her body already sensitive from their earlier exertions.
He reached around to play with her clit, his thumb flicking the swollen bud mercilessly. She felt herself climbing again, her walls tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he felt her building towards another orgasm.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a harsh rasp in her ear. "Keep going."
Her orgasm washed over her, stealing her breath and leaving her trembling beneath him. But he didn't stop, his cock never losing its punishing rhythm. He continued to pump into her, pushing her past her limits until she thought she couldn't take anymore.
Y/N's body was a tapestry of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain. She could feel her pussy clenching around him, begging for release even as she was denied it. She knew she was going to have to cum again, and again, and again until he was satisfied.
The room spun around her as she reached for another peak, her body a playground for his whims. Each time she thought she couldn't possibly go on, she felt his hand tighten on her hip, urging her closer to the edge.
Her breasts flattened against the mattress with every thrust, and she felt him spread her cheeks, his thumb teasing her tight anus. The sudden sensation made her gasp, her eyes flying open to meet his in the mirror across the room. He watched her with an intensity that was almost terrifying, his own need for her clear in every line of his body.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice low and guttural.
She nodded, unable to form words. She was his to use, his to take, and she craved every inch of him.
Without warning, he pushed inside her, filling her in a way she hadn't thought possible. She screamed, the pain mixing with the pleasure until she couldn't tell the difference. He began to move, his strokes long and deep, filling her completely.
Her body responded to his invasion, her pussy clenching around his cock as he claimed her in this new, forbidden way. The feeling was intense, and she knew she was going to cum again.
"Ask for it," he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper in her ear. "Beg me to let you cum."
"Please," she choked out, her voice barely recognizable. "Please, let me cum."
He chuckled, his hand reaching around to pinch her clit again. "Not yet," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to cum when I tell you to."
Her body was a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. She could feel the orgasm building, threatening to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming sensations.
Finally, with one last brutal thrust, he released some of his haki, sending a jolt of energy through her body. It was a command she couldn't resist, and she erupted around him, her orgasm ripping through her with the force of a tempest. Her body convulsed, muscles tightening and releasing in an endless symphony of pleasure as she screamed his name over and over.
Shanks' grin grew wider as he watched the pleasure paint Y/N's features, her body responding so beautifully to his power. He felt his own climax approaching, and he knew she was going to feel every bit of it.
He pulled out of her, his cock slick with their combined juices. Without missing a beat, he turned her over and straddled her face, pushing himself back into her mouth. She eagerly took him, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting herself on him.
With his cock buried in her throat, he reached down to her soaking pussy, plunging his fingers inside. She moaned around him, the sensation making her eyes water. He began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb working her clit in a merciless rhythm that had her hips bucking up off the bed.
He could feel her building again, her moans growing louder, her body trembling. He leaned down, his hand still working her, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're going to cum for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "And you're going to swallow every drop."
Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed with desire. She was his to command, his to use until he was satisfied. And as she felt his cock pulse and swell in her mouth, she knew that she was going to be used until she couldn't take anymore.
Her body tensed as she felt another orgasm approaching, her pussy spasming around his fingers. He groaned, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his cock. He could feel the warmth of his seed rising, and he knew it was time.
With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ship, he came, his semen filling her mouth. She swallowed greedily, her own orgasm crashing over her as he emptied himself into her. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, his body heavy with satisfaction.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by their ragged breathing. Then, with a wicked smile, he reached over and released her wrists, pulling her into his chest. "You never disappoint, my little treasure," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Y/N lay there, her body limp and sated, feeling more alive than she ever had before. The fear and anger she'd felt upon her capture had long since faded into the background, replaced by a need for this man that consumed her.
He rolled her onto her side, his cock still semi-hard against her thigh. "You know," he said, his voice lazy with contentment, "I think I might just keep you forever."
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Part of her was terrified of what that meant, but another part was thrilled by the prospect of being his, to be used and pleasured in ways she'd never imagined. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire. "I'm yours," she whispered, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.
Shanks chuckled, his hand running down her side to cup her breast. "Good," he said, his thumb circling her nipple. "Because I have a feeling we're going to have a very... interesting time together."
The next morning, Y/N awoke to the rocking of the ship and the gentle light filtering through the cabin's windows. She was sore, every inch of her body a testament to the night's activities. But as she felt Shanks' arm around her, his warmth seeping into her, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of belonging.
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Y/N became more and more accustomed to her new life. The railing and fucking never ceased, but she grew to crave it, her body waking up each day hungry for his touch.
The other members of the crew knew better than to disturb them, their respect for their captain's privacy unwavering. That night, the moon cast a silver glow over the quiet deck, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. Shanks had chosen the perfect setting for his latest conquest, his captain's chair a throne from which he could claim his prize.
Y/N, dressed in nothing but the barest of scraps that barely covered her, was led to the chair with a firm grip on her arm. The cool breeze kissed her skin, making her nipples peak as she was positioned over him. He sat with his legs spread, his cock standing tall and proud, gleaming in the moonlight. The sight of him made her wet with anticipation, her pussy clenching in need.
With a grin that promised both pleasure and pain, Shanks guided her onto his lap, the chair's wooden frame groaning beneath them. She gasped as he filled her, the sensation of being fucked in such an open space sending shivers down her spine. The salty air mingled with their scents, the smell of the sea and their passionate union.
He began to rock her hips, setting a pace that had her bouncing on his cock. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through her, her moans echoing across the deserted deck. She clung to the chair's armrests, her eyes never leaving his as she took him deeper and deeper, her body moving in a rhythm as old as the ocean itself.
The chair creaked in protest under the force of their passion, but Shanks was relentless. He loved watching her take him, her breasts jiggling with each bounce, her pussy clenching around him like a vice. He could feel her orgasm building, her muscles tightening around him like a fist.
With a snarl, he grabbed her, pushing her down harder and faster. The chair squeaked in time with their movements, a testament to their unbridled lust. She threw her head back, her long hair trailing in the breeze as she screamed out her release.
But he wasn't done with her yet. He flipped her over, bending her over the chair's armrest. She was wet and willing, her pussy begging for more. He slammed into her from behind, her ass cheeks rippling with each thrust. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the night air, a symphony of desire that was music to his ears.
Y/N's moans grew more desperate, her body moving of its own accord as she met his every thrust. She could feel another orgasm building, her pussy clenching around his thickness. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, and began to rub it in time with his strokes.
Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her body shaking as she came on his cock. But still, he didn't stop, his strokes growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. She felt him tense, his grip on her hips tightening, and then he was coming inside her, filling her with his warmth.
They collapsed into the chair, both panting heavily. The night air was cool on their sweat-drenched skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still pulsed between their legs. He kissed the back of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice low and possessive.
Y/N nodded, her body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Always," she whispered back, her voice filled with a need that went beyond mere lust.
They remained there, entwined in each other's arms, as the ship sliced through the dark waters, their passion a beacon in the vast emptiness of the ocean. The world outside of their little bubble didn't matter; all that existed was the two of them, the relentless throb of their hearts, and the sweet ache of desire that never truly abated. But as the days grew longer and the horizon unchanging, Y/N began to feel the first stirrings of a need to claim some semblance of power in their twisted dynamic.
The next time Shanks approached her with that hungry look in his eye, she didn't shrink back as she usually did. Instead, she met his gaze with a challenge of her own, a smoldering fire burning deep within her. He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. "What's gotten into you?" he growled, his voice thick with arousal.
Y/N smirked, pushing herself off the bed to stand before him, her naked body swaying slightly with the movement of the ship. "I've decided," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I want to be the one in control this time."
Shanks stepped back, his cock twitching with interest. He folded his arm across his broad chest, the muscles rippling. "Is that so?" he asked, the smirk on his face growing wider. "You think you can handle me?"
Y/N nodded, a determined glint in her eyes. She reached out, her hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was already hard for her, his desire clear as day. She began to stroke him, her hand moving with a confidence she hadn't had before. She watched his reaction closely, her heart racing as she felt his body respond to her touch.
With each stroke, she grew bolder, her hand moving faster, her grip tightening. He groaned, his eyes closing in pleasure. But she didn't stop there. She dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth. She could feel his muscles tense, his breath catching as she took him deeper and deeper.
It was a heady feeling, knowing that she could make this powerful man tremble with just her mouth and hands. She used her tongue to tease him, swirling it around his head, flicking it against his slit. His hips jerked, his hands finding her hair as he tried to control the pace, but she resisted, setting her own rhythm.
As she felt him getting close, she pulled back, his cock glistening with her saliva. She looked up at him, her eyes never leaving his. "You want to cum?" she asked, her voice a taunt. "You're going to have to work for it."
Shanks' eyes narrowed, the challenge in her tone fueling his own desire. He didn't argue but, his own need to be in charge was still strong. But this time, it was tinged with something new - excitement.
Y/N pushed him back onto the bed, her body straddling his. She lowered herself onto his cock, feeling him fill her completely. It was a delicious sensation, one she hadn't experienced in this position before. She began to move, her hips rolling in a sensual dance that had him groaning beneath her.
He watched her, his eyes never leaving hers as she took control. It was intoxicating, seeing her like this - fierce, unbridled, and utterly irresistible. He could feel the power shifting between them, the lines of dominance blurring as she set the pace.
With every stroke, she could feel herself growing closer to the edge. But she didn't want to cum yet. She wanted to push him further, to see just how much he could take. So she reached down, her hand finding her clit, and began to rub it in time with her movements. The sensation was unbearable, her body begging for release.
Shanks' eyes darkened, his grip on the bedframe tightening as he watched her. He could see the determination in her eyes, the need to make him lose control. And as much as he enjoyed watching her take charge, he knew he couldn't let her have all the fun.
With a growl, he flipped her onto her back, his cock never leaving her body. She gasped in surprise, her eyes wide with excitement. He leaned over her, his teeth grazing her neck as he whispered, "You want to play games, love?" His voice was low and dangerous, a warning of the storm that was brewing within him.
Y/N nodded, her chest heaving with anticipation. "Yes," she breathed. "I want to make you crazy for me."
Shanks chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, you already have," he said, his eyes glinting with lust. He began to move again, his thrusts deep and punishing. He could feel the power of his haki building, a force that he usually reserved for battle.
But tonight, it was all for her. He slammed into her, the sound of their bodies colliding echoing through the cabin. Each time he bottomed out, she felt an aftershock ripple through her, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had her nails digging into his back.
Her eyes rolled back, her moans lost to the pounding of their bodies. It was as if she was riding a wild beast, one that was determined to claim her completely. He was relentless, his cock hitting places inside her she didn't know existed.
And with every stroke, she could feel herself losing control. Her orgasm was approaching like a freight train, unstoppable and all-consuming. "Oh, gods," she screamed, her body arching off the bed.
But he wasn't done with her yet. He reached down, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. The sensation was too much, and she shattered around him, her body convulsing with pleasure. He continued to pound into her, using her climax to drive her even higher.
Y/N's eyes flew open as she felt a second orgasm building, more intense than the first. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, her walls fluttering with the beginnings of release. Shanks leaned back, his arm wrapped around her as he watched her come apart.
The sight of her, lost in ecstasy, was more than he could bear. With one final, brutal thrust, he came inside her, his seed filling her to the brim. Her body trembled with the force of it, her eyes locked on his as she felt the aftershocks of his own release.
For a moment, there was only silence, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, with a roar that could be heard throughout the ship, he pulled out of her, his cock still pulsing with the last vestiges of his climax.
Y/N lay there, her body spent, her mind racing. She'd never felt so alive, so consumed by pleasure. And she knew, deep down, that she was falling for him, despite the circumstances of their union.
Shanks leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue claiming her as thoroughly as his cock had just moments before. "You're mine," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Forever and always."
The words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement. But as she looked into his eyes, she knew it was true. She was his, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
The nights grew longer, their sessions more intense. Shanks' obsession with her grew, his hunger for her insatiable. He took her in every way imaginable, pushing her body to new heights of pleasure and pain.
Yet she craved it, her own desires matching his in their intensity. She found herself initiating their encounters, eager to feel his dominance, his possession. And every time she did, she felt a little more of herself slipping away, replaced by this creature of passion that only he could satisfy.
One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of red and gold across the horizon, Shanks decided to take their games to a new level. He called for Beckman, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very air.
Beckman entered the cabin, his eyes immediately going to the bound and naked Y/N. She felt a thrill of fear mingled with excitement, her body responding to the unspoken threat in Shanks' tone. She could feel the captain's cock pressing against her, already hard at the thought of sharing her with his first mate.
Shanks positioned her against the headboard, her legs draped over his, her back arched and her pussy exposed to Beckman's hungry gaze. "Go ahead," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Take what's yours."
Beckman didn't need a second invitation. He dropped to his knees before her, his eyes locked on the glistening folds of her sex. He inhaled deeply, the scent of their combined arousal thick in the air. His tongue flicked out, tasting her, and she shuddered at the sensation.
Shanks wrapped his arm around her, his hand finding her breasts. He began to knead them roughly, his thumb flicking her nipples until they were hard and sensitive. She could feel his cock pulsing against her back, his breath hot on her neck as he whispered dark, dirty things in her ear.
Beckman's tongue delved into her, exploring every inch of her with a hunger that was almost terrifying. He licked and sucked, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Y/N moaned, her body a live wire of sensation as she felt herself building to another orgasm.
But before she could come, Shanks pulled her back, his teeth grazing her ear. "Not yet," he growled. "I want to feel you cum around my cock."
He grabbed her legs, folding them back until they were almost touching his ears. The stretch was exquisite, her pussy open and vulnerable to his gaze. Beckman took a moment to appreciate the view before diving back in, his tongue swirling around her clit as if it were a precious jewel.
Shanks leaned back, his cock still hard and demanding. He watched Beckman worship her, his eyes never leaving Y/N's face. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. "You like having two cocks to play with?"
Y/N could only nod, her breath coming in pants. She'd never felt so exposed, so used, and yet she craved it. She craved them both, the two men who had come to define her existence on this ship.
With a wicked grin, Shanks reached down and inserted two fingers into her pussy, curling them up to hit her g-spot. She screamed, her body jerking as she felt the orgasm crest. Beckman didn't stop, his tongue lapping at her clit as if he could taste her pleasure.
Then, with a wicked twist of his hand, Shanks pulled her cheeks apart, revealing her tight, untouched hole. "Now, Beckman," he said, his voice a dark command. "Make her ready for me."
Beckman's eyes glinted with lust as he withdrew his mouth from her pussy. He took Shanks' hand and brought it to his own mouth, licking her juices off his fingers before moving to her anus. He spat onto his hand and then began to push his fingers into her tight channel, stretching her open.
Y/N's eyes went wide with shock and arousal as she felt Beckman's thick fingers push into her ass. The sensation was strange, foreign, and yet it made her pussy clench around Shanks' digits. She could feel the head of Shanks' cock nudging at her entrance, demanding entry.
With a groan, Beckman added a third finger, scissoring them to loosen her up. She felt herself stretching, her body desperately trying to accommodate the intrusion.
Shanks watched with hungry eyes, his cock twitching with anticipation. "You're going to take both of us," he said, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're going to be our little fuck toy, aren't you?"
Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words as Beckman's fingers worked their magic. The pleasure was building again, her body begging for more. And then, without warning, Beckman's mouth was back on her pussy, his tongue lashing at her clit as he continued to finger her ass.
The sensation was overwhelming, her body no longer her own as she was bombarded with waves of pleasure. She could feel Beckman's breath hot on her skin as he licked and sucked, his tongue flicking against her sensitive bud with expert precision.
Shanks leaned in, his teeth nipping at her neck as he whispered, "You're going to be our little slut, aren't you?" The words sent a thrill through her, and she knew she was going to come again, harder than ever before.
With one final, brutal thrust of his fingers, Beckman pushed her over the edge. Y/N screamed as she climaxed, her body shaking with the force of it. But she didn't get to bask in the afterglow for long.
Shanks lifted her hips, his cock now poised at her tight anus. The head nudged against her, the pressure building until she thought she'd break. Beckman's tongue flicked against her clit, never stopping, keeping her body on edge.
And then, with a single, powerful push, Shanks was inside her, his cock stretching her wide as he filled her completely. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, her screams lost in Beckman's mouth as she was claimed in the most intimate of ways.
Beckman didn't let up, his tongue and teeth playing with her clit as she was impaled on Shanks' cock. She could feel every inch of him, the burn of his invasion mixing with the sweet agony of Beckman's relentless teasing. It was too much, and yet she never wanted it to end.
Shanks began to move, his hips rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had her seeing stars. She could feel Beckman's breath on her clit, feel his fingers buried in her pussy as he worked her closer and closer to another peak.
The two men moved in concert, a dance of dominance and submission that she found herself eagerly participating in. Her body was their plaything, their canvas for pleasure, and she reveled in it.
As Shanks picked up speed, she could feel Beckman's fingers curling, his own need growing. He was close, she knew it, and the thought of making him come was almost too much to bear. Her walls clenched around his fingers, her ass tightening around Shanks' cock.
And then Beckman was withdrawing, his face a mask of pleasure as he stood and unbuckled his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she watched as he stroked it, the precum glistening in the lamplight.
Shanks' movements grew more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fucked her with everything he had. He was close, she could feel it, his cock swelling inside her.
With a roar, Beckman slammed his cock into her pussy, his thrusts matching Shanks' as they claimed her together. The sensation was indescribable, the fullness making her feel complete in a way she never had before.
Y/N's body was a writhing mess of pleasure, her cries of ecstasy echoing through the cabin. She could feel the orgasm building again, a monster that threatened to consume her whole. And as they pounded into her, as she felt their cocks rub together through the thin barrier of her walls, she knew she was going to shatter.
Shanks' grip on her hips tightened, his movements becoming more frenzied. He was close, so close, and she could feel his cock swelling even more inside her ass. And then, with a final, powerful thrust, he came, his seed filling her as Beckman's cock emptied into her pussy.
Their combined releases triggered her own, a supernova of pleasure that had her body convulsing uncontrollably. She came around Beckman's cock, her orgasm milking him for every drop.
But Beckman was like a dog in heat, his need for her unquenchable. He didn't stop, didn't even pause, his hips still moving in a frenzied rhythm as he pounded into her. The sound of their flesh slapping together was like a drumbeat, driving her closer and closer to the edge once more.
Shanks watched with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his own cock still buried in her ass. He could feel Beckman's weight on top of her, the way his body trembled with each thrust. It was an erotic sight, one that made his own desire flare anew.
Y/N's eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream as Beckman continued to fuck her, his cock seemingly never-ending. She could feel herself tightening around him, her muscles trying to pull him deeper.
And then, with a final, desperate thrust, Beckman came, his seed mixing with Shanks' as it leaked down. His body went slack, his weight pressing her into the bed.
Shanks took the opportunity to withdraw, his cock slipping from her ass with an obscene wet sound. He watched as Beckman pulled out, his own cock still hard and demanding. He knew he wasn't done with her yet.
With a smirk, he handed her over to Beckman, her body a warm, trembling mess of pleasure. Beckman took her in his arms, his cock still throbbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He could see the hunger in Shanks' eyes, knew what was coming next.
Shanks stood up, his cock still coated in her juices. He reached for a cloth, wiping it clean as he contemplated his next move. His mind was racing with ideas, each one more depraved than the last.
Y/N lay there, panting, her eyes never leaving Shanks as he moved around the cabin. There was something in his gaze that had her pulse racing, a hint of a plan that had her insides quivering with anticipation.
He strode back to the bed, his eyes locked on hers. "You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Not until we're both satisfied."
Beckman chuckled, his grip on her tightening. "And I'm not done with you yet," he said, his voice a low growl.
Shanks climbed onto the bed, his cock still hard and slick from their previous encounter. He positioned himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers as he slid into her.
The feeling was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that had her eyes rolling back. She could feel Beckman's cock at her pussy, his own need to claim her once more evident.
Without a word, Shanks reached down and pushed Beckman's cock into her, the two of them filling her completely. She was theirs, utterly and completely, and she reveled in the feeling of being taken by two powerful men.
Their rhythm was erratic, a dance of pleasure that had her body singing with need. She could feel their muscles tense, their breath hot on her skin as they worked towards their climaxes.
And then, as if on cue, they both began to move in unison, their thrusts driving into her in perfect harmony. She was the center of their world, a focal point of lust and desire that she never wanted to leave.
Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself stretched to accommodate both Shanks and Beckman. It was a feeling she'd never experienced before, one that bordered on pain but was drenched in a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. She could feel their cocks sliding against each other, their movements creating a delicious friction that sent shockwaves through her body.
Their grunts and moans filled the cabin, a cacophony of need and pleasure that had her pussy clenching around them. She could feel the muscles in her ass and pussy stretching to their limits, the burn of their entry melding with the slickness of Beckman's cum.
The men took turns pounding into her, their cocks sliding in and out with a wet, sucking sound that only served to drive her higher. She could feel her orgasm building, a crescendo of sensation that was threatening to consume her.
But she didn't want it to end, not yet. She wanted to feel them both, to know she could take them both and still crave more. So she pushed back against them, her hips rising to meet each thrust, her body moving in a symphony of lust.
Their movements grew more frantic, their breathing more ragged. She could feel the tension in their bodies, the way their muscles coiled like springs ready to release. And as they drove into her, she could feel the beginnings of their climaxes.
Shanks' strokes grew deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside her that had her seeing stars. Beckman's grip on her hips tightened, his fingers digging into her skin as he thrust into her pussy, filling her to the brim.
Their rhythm was like a storm, wild and uncontrollable, and she was the eye of the hurricane. Each movement sent her spiraling closer and closer to the edge, until she couldn't hold on any longer.
With a scream that echoed through the cabin, Y/N came, her body convulsing around their cocks. The sensation was so intense it was almost painful, a white-hot pleasure that seared through her veins.
Shanks and Beckman watched her, their eyes glazed with lust as they continued to fuck her through her orgasm. They were like animals, driven by instinct and need, and she was their willing prey.
As she came down from her high, she felt them both quicken their pace, their hips slapping against her ass in a punishing rhythm. They were close, she could feel it, their cocks pulsing inside her.
And then, with one final, brutal thrust, Beckman came, his cock spurting his hot seed deep into her pussy. The feeling of his release sent her over the edge again, her body shaking with the force of it.
Shanks wasn't far behind, his cock swelling inside her as he reached his own peak. He roared, his body jerking as he emptied himself into her, his seed mixing with Beckman's in a sticky mess of desire.
They collapsed onto her, their bodies heavy with satisfaction. For a moment, there was only silence, their ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Then, with a chuckle, Beckman leaned in and kissed her, his mouth tasting of salt and sweat.
Shanks leaned back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're a natural, love," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin.
Y/N could only smile, her body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. She knew she'd never be the same after this, that she'd been irrevocably changed. But as she lay there, sandwiched between two of the most powerful men in the world, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of what was to come.
Their relationship grew more complex with each passing day, a tapestry of power and passion that was uniquely theirs. Y/N found herself craving the feel of their cocks inside her, the way they dominated her body and soul.
The crew of The Red Force had long ago accepted her as Shanks' personal plaything, but she knew that she was more than that. She was their queen, their goddess of lust, and she reveled in the power she held over them
"May I See Your...?" !SMUT-18+! ZORO X FEMALE!READER (FT BROOK)
A/N: Don't ask
CW: Voyeurism, Overstimulation(?), Let me know if I missed anything
Y/N stood on the bow of the ship, her eyes scanning the vast sea. The sun had just begun to kiss the horizon, painting the sky in a warm embrace of orange and pink. Her heart was filled with the sweet ache of melancholy, as it often did when she watched the day fade into night. It was in these moments, with the salty breeze playing with her hair and the gentle rocking of the ship beneath her feet, that she felt truly alive.
"Hey, Y/N," a familiar voice called out, snapping her out of her tranquil solitude. She turned to see Brook, the perverted skeleton musician of the Straw Hat Pirates, sauntering towards her, his ribcage bobbing up and down with each step. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye socket, and she knew what was coming.
"Brook," she sighed, a hint of amusement playing on her lips. "What do you want now?"
"Oh, come on," Brook cackled, his skull tipping back as he leaned against the railing. "You know what I want. Just one little peek."
It was his favorite pastime, asking to see her panties. Y/N rolled her eyes. While normally, she'd shoo him away with a playful laugh, tonight was different. Tonight, she had decided to indulge him. The thought made her heart race, a strange mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through her veins. Why not give him what he'd been begging for? Maybe it would shut him up for good, or at least for a little while.
"Alright," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "But only if everyone else is around."
Brook' grin widened. "You know how to make a guy's day, don't ya?"
As they made their way back to the sunny deck, she felt a thrill of anticipation. The crew was gathered there, their laughter and chatter a comforting backdrop to the impending event. The moment she stepped into view, the conversations died down, and all eyes (sans Chopper) turned to her. She could feel the heat of their gazes, and she took a deep breath, bracing herself.
"What's going on?" Luffy, the captain, asked, his curiosity piqued as he stretched his elastic neck to see over the crowd.
"Brook has once again requested," she announced, her voice carrying over the murmurs. "To see my panties."
A collective gasp echoed through the air, followed by a roar of laughter. Even Zoro, the stoic swordsman, cracked a smile, while Sanji's eyes widened with a mix of shock and something else. Y/N felt a blush spread across her cheeks, but she didn't look away. She knew what she was about to do was bold, but she had made her decision.
"Again, Brook?" Luffy asked, his straw hat tipping backward with his skeptical look.
"You bet, Cap'n!" Brook chuckled. "Been waiting for this moment for ages!"
The deck grew quiet again, the anticipation palpable. Y/N took a step forward, her hand moving to the hem of her skirt. The fabric whispered against her legs as she began to lift it, the sound of the ocean the only other noise in the stillness.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she revealed a pair of lacy black panties. She felt a strange mix of vulnerability and power, knowing that every pair of eyes was on her. The crew's reactions varied from shock to amusement, but she focused on Brook, whose grin had turned into a gaping maw.
"There you go," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart.
Brook's eye sockets widened as he stared, his excitement evident. He nodded fervently, unable to speak. The crew erupted into laughter and applause, the tension dissipating into the evening air. Sanji whistled lowly, while Zoro's smile grew, and even Nami clapped her hands together in approval.
Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her as she dropped her skirt and turned to face the sea once more. The cool breeze against her bare thighs was exhilarating. She had done it. She had stood up to Brook' relentless teasing and turned the tables in the most unexpected way.
"Alright, Brook," she said, a smirk playing on her lips as she turned to face the skeleton. "You've seen what you've been dying to see for so long. Now, it's my turn."
Brook's grin faltered for a brief moment before it returned, his anticipation clear. "What do you mean?"
"You owe me," she said, her voice low and seductive. "Every time you've asked for a peek, you've promised to do something for me in return. And I've decided what I want."
With a dramatic flair, Y/N turned on her heel and strode towards the cabin, her hips swaying with each step. Brook's excitement was palpable as he followed, his bones clattering with each eager stride. The crew watched them go, their expressions a mix of confusion and intrigue.
Once in the dimly lit room, Y/N gestured to the chair by her bed. "Sit," she ordered, a mischievous glint in her eye. Brook obeyed, his anticipation practically vibrating off of him.
Y/N closed the door with a soft click and turned to face him, her back to the bed. She began to unbutton her shirt, revealing her matching lacy black bra. The room was silent except for the sound of fabric sliding against skin and the gentle creak of the ship beneath them. She took a deep breath and let the shirt fall to the floor, her chest heaving with the weight of the moment.
"Now," she began, her voice a siren's song in the quiet space. "You have to watch."
With that, she turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, her legs parted just enough to give him a teasing view. Her hand slid down her stomach and under her skirt, disappearing into the fabric. Brook's eyes widened even further, his mouth hanging open as he watched, utterly transfixed.
Her fingertips found their way to her wetness, and she began to explore herself with slow, deliberate strokes. The sight too much for Brook to handle, his bones rattling with excitement. He dreamed of this moment, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it.
The sound of the ocean outside was a gentle lullaby to the rhythm of her movements. The air grew thick with tension as she grew more and more aroused, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Her eyes never left Brook's sockets as she touched herself, watching his reaction with a sense of power that was intoxicating.
"You like this?" she taunted, her voice a sweet caress. "This is what you've been begging to see for so long."
Brook could only nod, his eyes never leaving her. The room was filled with the scent of her arousal, and the sight of her touching herself was more erotic than he could have ever imagined. He was at her mercy, and she reveled in it.
With a wicked smile, Y/N leaned back onto the bed, her hand still moving rhythmically between her legs. "Keep watching," she murmured, her voice a sultry invitation. "And remember, this is my show."
The skeleton could do nothing but nod, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. The night had just begun, and Y/N had so much more in store for him. She had set the stage for a performance that would leave him begging for more, and she had every intention of delivering.
Her hand continued to work its magic, her other hand reaching up to unclasp her bra. It fell away, revealing her breasts to the cool air. Brook felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the lack of flesh to react to the chill. His eyes were glued to her chest, watching as she teased her hardened nipples with her fingertips.
Y/N leaned back further, her legs now fully apart, giving Brook a clear view of her panties, damp with desire. She slid her hand down further, her middle finger slipping beneath the lace to trace her swollen folds. A soft moan escaped her lips, and Brook felt his own excitement building.
Her movements grew more urgent, her breaths quickening. The sound of the ocean outside was now a crescendo to the symphony of her pleasure. The sight of her, so confident and in control, was unlike anything he had ever seen. He was captivated by the beauty of the moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what it would be like to feel her skin, to taste her, to be a part of this intimate act.
But he was just a spectator, a ghostly voyeur in the grand scheme of things. His bones could never feel the warmth of her touch, never experience the softness of her flesh. And yet, here he was, the center of her attention, the focus of her lustful gaze. It was a power play, and he was more than happy to lose.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back, as she reached the peak of her pleasure. Her body tensed, and she let out a cry that was music to his nonexistent ears. The sight of her coming was more than he could handle, and his excitement grew to an unbearable level. He clenched his fists, willing himself to hold on, to keep watching, to savor every second of this rare and precious moment.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. "Now," she said, her voice a command. "You want my panties, right?"
Brook nodded, unable to form words.
"Then you'll have to earn them," she continued, her voice dripping with seductive challenge. "Keep my legs open while Zoro has his way with me."
The skeleton's jaw dropped. He had never seen this side of Y/N before, so brazen and demanding. Yet, he found himself eager to obey, to be a part of this intimate and taboo exchange. He stumbled over to the bed, his legs feeling like jelly, and positioned himself at her side, his bony hands gently gripping her thighs.
The door to the cabin opened, and Zoro stepped in, his eyes immediately finding hers. The swordsman was a picture of calm and confidence, his gaze burning with desire. He knew what was about to happen, and he was more than ready.
He climbed onto the bed, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he positioned himself between her legs. Brook held her open, his grip firm as he watched with rapt attention. Y/N's breath hitched as Zoro's hand slid up her thigh, his thumb grazing the edge of her panties.
The sound of the fabric being pushed aside was like a gunshot in the quiet cabin. Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt his warmth against her. Zoro's tongue, as sharp as his swords, began to dance across her folds, tracing the contours of her sex with a hunger that had been simmering for far too long. He licked and probed, his movements as precise as a maestro conducting an orchestra. Each flick and swirl sent shivers of pleasure through her body, her eyes rolling back in her head as she moaned his name. Her hips rocked involuntarily, meeting his mouth with a desperation that was both primal and exhilarating.
The smell of the sea mingled with the sweet scent of her arousal, filling the cabin with a heady aroma that intoxicated the men. Brook watched, his bones creaking with the effort of containing his excitement, as Zoro feasted upon her. The swordsman's mouth moved with a ferocity that was unmatched on the battlefield, his tongue plundering her depths with a skill that had her writhing and begging for more. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples hard and erect, begging for attention.
Her moans grew louder, her breaths more ragged, as Zoro's mouth worked its magic. Her legs trembled in Brook' grip, her body a symphony of pleasure and need. The musician's skeletal fingers tightened around her knees, his eyes never leaving the intimate dance unfolding before him. His own desire grew, his bones seemingly straining against the fabric of his pants.
Y/N's hands found Zoro's hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled him closer, urging him to delve deeper. His teeth grazed her clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her core. She could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building, the storm clouds of ecstasy gathering on the horizon of her consciousness.
The tension in the cabin was as thick as the fog that sometimes enveloped the ship. The three of them were lost in their own world, a world of unbridled lust and passion. The creaks of the ship's timbers seemed to keep tempo with the rhythm of their breathing, the only sound in the cabin that didn't belong to their carnality.
Y/N's body tightened, her toes curling as she reached the precipice of climax. Zoro's tongue swirled around her clit, his mouth sucking and nibbling, pushing her closer to the edge. Her back arched. The pressure grew, her body a taut bowstring ready to be released.
And then it happened. The dam burst, and she came with a cry that echoed through the cabin, the force of her orgasm rocking her body. Zoro drank from her like a man dying of thirst, his mouth never leaving her sex as she rode out her pleasure. Brook, alight with excitement, watched the show, his bony hands still holding her wide open for his viewing pleasure.
The moment was intense, as Brook' skeletal hands firmly held Y/N's legs apart, keeping her exposed to the pirate swordsman's ravenous mouth. His grip was surprisingly strong, his excitement palpable as he stared at the slick, pink flesh before him. Each quiver of her thighs and each gasp that escaped her lips only fueled his own desire. He could feel the phantom ghost of his cock straining against the fabric of his pants, begging for release, but he knew his role in this dance of debauchery. He was the voyeur, the one who held the key to this intimate tableau.
Zoro, his eyes locked on Brook' skull, took a moment to appreciate the view before diving back in. His tongue lapped at her swollen folds, savoring the taste of her pleasure. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He knew that she was once again close, feeling the tremors of her impending climax shivering through her legs. His mouth moved faster, more insistent, as he sought to push her over the edge once more.
The room grew hotter, the scent of sex permeating the air like the sticky heat of a tropical night. Y/N's moans grew more fervent, her nails digging into Zoro's scalp as he worked her clit. She could feel her orgasm building once again, the pressure in her belly growing to an unbearable crescendo. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body tensing as she held on for just a little longer.
And then, she shattered. Her pussy clenched around his tongue, her juices flooding his mouth as she cried out. The sound was a symphony of passion, music to the ears of the skeletal musician who held her open, his eyes glued to the sight of her release. He could feel the vibrations of her ecstasy through her legs, his own need growing with every tremble.
The sight of Y/N's unbridled pleasure was almost too much for Brook to handle. His hands, though bony, felt alive with the pulse of his desire. He watched as Zoro's mouth moved from her clit to her slit, lapping up every drop of her essence. The pirate's cheeks were flushed, his breathing heavy, as he reveled in her taste.
With a grin that was as sinister as it was satisfied, Brook took it upon himself to up the ante. He pushed her legs further, bending her body into a pose that would make even the most flexible contortionist envious. Her ankles now touched the back of her head, her pussy open and exposed like a treasure chest waiting to be plundered. The sight was almost too much for Zoro to handle, and his cock, already rock-hard, strained against the confines of his trousers.
With a growl that was part passion, part challenge, Zoro stood up, freeing his manhood. He wasted no time in positioning himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her swollen folds. Y/N's eyes snapped open, her gaze locking with Brook' empty sockets as she felt the blunt tip of Zoro's member press against her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, bracing herself for what was to come.
The swordsman didn't disappoint. With one powerful thrust, he claimed her, his cock driving deep into her quivering pussy. Her walls stretched to accommodate him, the feeling of fullness making her moan anew. Brook' grip tightened on her legs, holding her open even as she tried to close them around Zoro's waist. The musician watched, his skeletal hands shaking slightly with the effort of keeping her in place as the pirate began to move.
Zoro's hips snapped back and forth, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body. He was rough, claiming her with an aggression that mirrored his fighting style. His abs flexed with each plunge, his muscles rippling with the exertion. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open in a silent scream as he fucked her mercilessly. The cabin walls seemed to vibrate with the force of their passion.
Her breasts bounced with each impact, her nipples peaked and sensitive. She reached down, her own hands joining Zoro's in the worship of her body. She pinched and rolled the sensitive nubs, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that had her teetering on the brink of another climax.
Brook leaned in, mere inches from the slickness of her pussy, inhaling her scent with a greed that was palpable. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the musky scent of their mating. His skeletal hands trembled with the effort of keeping her open, his own desire a palpable force in the room. He whispered lewd suggestions into her ear, his words a dark melody that played in harmony with the slap of flesh against flesh. His breath was hot against her skin, a ghostly caress that seemed to excite her even further.
The tension grew, the cabin a cocoon of desire. The sound of their lovemaking filled the air, a symphony of grunts and moans that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the ship. The floorboards creaked in protest as Zoro's powerful hips slammed into her again and again. The pirate was lost in the moment, his eyes glazed with lust as he claimed her in the most primal way possible.
Y/N could feel another orgasm building, her body tightening around Zoro's cock. She knew that she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, the pleasure too intense to bear. Her eyes locked with Brook' skull, a silent plea for release passing between them. He leaned in closer still, brushing against her clit as he whispered one final, wicked suggestion.
The combination of Zoro's relentless pounding and Brook' ghostly whispers was too much. She came again, her pussy clenching tight around Zoro's shaft. The pirate groaned, his own climax approaching with the speed of a storm. He pumped into her harder, faster, his eyes never leaving hers as he chased his own release.
The room was alive with passion, the air thick with the promise of their union.
Her hips bucked against Zoro's, her body moving in time with his steady rhythm. Each thrust sent shockwaves through her, and she could feel another climax building. The sight of Brook, holding her open, his skeletal hands stark against her flesh, was an oddly thrilling addition to the experience. It was a dance of power and pleasure, and she was the center of it all.
The room was alive with the sounds of their passion – the slap of skin against skin, the wet sounds of Zoro's movements, and the occasional clatter of Brook' bones as he adjusted his grip. Y/N felt a wildness within her that she had never experienced before, a primal need to be taken, to be used, to be seen.
Zoro's strokes grew more erratic, his breathing more ragged. His eyes never left hers as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. With a roar that could be heard on the deck above, he reached his climax, his hot seed spilling into her. Brook had to tighten his grip to keep her legs open as she bucked and writhed, her orgasm crashing over her in waves.
Yet, even as she came down from the peak, Zoro didn't stop. He pulled out only to thrust back in, filling her again and again with his cum. The sensation was overwhelming, a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort, as she felt herself growing wetter and wetter. Brook watched, his eye sockets seeming to bulge with excitement, as Zoro's movements grew messier and more desperate.
Y/N's thighs grew slick with the combination of their fluids, and she knew that she was going to be sore in the morning. But she didn't care. The feeling of being so utterly filled and claimed was intoxicating. Each time Zoro came, it was as if he was marking her as his own, and she reveled in the knowledge that she had the power to make him lose control like this.
The swordsman finally collapsed on top of her, panting heavily, his seed still leaking out of her. Brook, his own excitement at a fever pitch, didn't release her legs. Instead, he leaned in closer, his non-existent nose inhaling the scent of their combined arousal.
"Is this what you wanted?" she panted, looking up at the skeleton with a mix of defiance and lust. "Is this what you dreamed of?"
He nodded, his mouth moving to form words that she couldn't hear. He was in a daze, his mind racing with images of what he had just witnessed.
"Good," she whispered, her hand reaching up to trace the side of his skull.
With Zoro's weight still pressing her into the mattress, she reached over to the nightstand, her hand closing around a small bottle of lubricant. With a wink at Brook, she began to stroke it over Zoro's softening member, watching with satisfaction as it grew hard again.
The swordsman groaned, his eyes opening in surprise. "What are you..."
"You're not done yet," she murmured, her voice a siren's call. "Not until Brook gets what he's been begging for."
The skeleton's grin was manic as he watched, his anticipation growing with each stroke of her hand. He knew what was coming, and he was ready to finally get his hands on the prize he had lusted after for so long.
As Zoro began to move again, she slid her hand away, leaving him to do the rest. The two men took over, their movements a silent dance of lust and desire. Y/N's eyes never left Brook' as she felt herself being filled once more, her body responding to the relentless onslaught of pleasure.
The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and Y/N knew that she would never forget this night. As Zoro reached his climax once again, she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. She had taken control, made Brook pay for his lewd behavior in the most unexpected way. And in doing so, she had discovered a part of herself that she never knew existed.
With a final, lazy thrust, Zoro pulled out and rolled onto his back, his chest heaving with exertion. Y/N sat up, her legs still trembling, and slid off her panties, holding them out to Brook, a smug smile playing on her lips. "You can have them," she said, tossing them into his eagerly waiting ribcage.
Brook caught them, his grin so wide it looked like it might split his skull in two. He clutched the damp fabric to his chest, his excitement palpable even without the ability to blush. "Thank you, Y/N," he rasped, his voice thick with lust.
A/N: Sorry for disappearing. Also Ace is back in the next one YAY.
The salty breeze carried a sense of nostalgia as it kissed her skin, warmer than she remembered, yet strangely familiar. The scent of the trees, with their deep, earthy fragrance, mixed with the crisp ocean air. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed in her ears, and in the distance, she could hear the familiar chatter from Foosha Village. It was a comforting symphony, one that whispered to her soul—it felt like home.
Y/N stood at the edge of the dense forest, her gaze sweeping over the village below, a small, lively patch of color in the distance. She hadn’t been back in so long. Too long.
She glanced down, adjusting the small case tucked securely in her bag, her fingers brushing the smooth surface to ensure that Luffy’s gift was still safe inside. It had taken far more effort than she had anticipated, but in the end, she had managed to find it—a rare bug, one so unique it was said to bring both luck and love. It seemed like the perfect gift for Luffy, especially now, as he was closer to setting sail on his great adventure.
A smirk tugged at her lips. Not so little anymore, huh?
The thought of her little brother, who had grown into a force of nature, filled her with both pride and bittersweet nostalgia. She couldn’t help but chuckle.
With a deep breath, she straightened herself up and started down the familiar path leading into the village. The sounds of life, the chatter, and the laughter grew louder as she approached, the air filled with the warmth of celebration.
Luffy’s laughter hit her like a wave, loud and unmistakable—louder than she remembered, but then again, that was Luffy for you. He was always a ball of chaos and energy, impossible to miss.
“Y/N!!”
The moment his eyes spotted her, he was off, running at full speed, a grin spread wide across his face. Before she could even brace herself, he slammed into her with the force of a freight train, nearly knocking her off her feet. She barely managed to steady herself, but once she did, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.
"Miss me, huh?" she teased, her voice playful, the warmth of the reunion washing over her.
Luffy pulled back, eyes sparkling with that all-too-familiar mischief. “Duh! Where were you? You took forever!”
Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes. “I was getting your gift, obviously.”
His expression immediately shifted from playful to intense excitement. “You got it?!”
With a dramatic flourish, she reached into her bag and pulled out the small case, handing it over with a proud grin. “One legendary bug, as promised.”
Luffy’s eyes widened in wonder as he carefully opened the case. The rare insect, vibrant and almost glowing, sat delicately within the confines of the glass. His jaw dropped in awe. “Whoa… It’s so cool!”
She ruffled his messy hair, her affection evident. “Only the best for my dumb little brother.”
“Oi!” Luffy scowled, though his grin didn’t fade. He held the bug up, showing it off to anyone nearby.
The celebration around them was already in full swing. The villagers had gathered in the square, laughter and chatter filling the air as the food and drink flowed freely. Makino had outdone herself with the feast, and even the usually stern Mayor, who was notorious for scolding Luffy, couldn’t help but crack a rare smile at the festivities.
As the party raged on, Y/N leaned back against a nearby barrel, her eyes tracing Luffy’s excited movements as he proudly showed off his bug to the Dadan family. The scene was warm, alive with energy, and she found herself lost in the simplicity of it all.
“One year left, huh?” she mused, her voice soft but tinged with something deeper. She wasn’t sure if it was pride or worry or something else entirely.
Luffy’s grin grew wider, a fiery determination burning in his eyes. “Yeah! And then I’m going to be King of the Pirates!”
Y/N’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and she reached out, flicking his forehead with her fingers. “Then don’t get caught, Captain.”
Luffy’s infectious laughter echoed into the night, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had slowed down.
For the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The world felt whole, just like it always had when they were together. And no matter where their paths led them, she knew this was a memory she would hold close forever.
The village basked in the glow of lanterns and firelight. Luffy at the center of it all, grinning wide as he wrestled with one of Dadan’s bandits over a piece of meat. Y/N watched from the side, arms crossed, the weight in her chest pressing heavier the longer she stood there.
As the night deepened, the village gradually quieted, the last of the cheers fading into the soft rustling of the evening breeze. Y/N found herself alone at the edge of the crowd, her eyes locked on the flickering lanterns above. They swayed gently in the wind, casting long shadows over the dirt path leading to the horizon.
Luffy had disappeared into the crowd once more, likely wrapped up in a new scheme or conversation, his exuberant energy never fading. She couldn’t help but smile, despite the knot twisting tighter in her chest. He was unstoppable, always charging forward with that unwavering conviction.
But what about her? Could she stand by him without tearing herself apart?
The weight of the promise she’d made to him felt like an anchor, dragging her down into the depths of uncertainty. And yet… the pull to stay was undeniable.
“You’re looking at him like you’re trying to burn the memory into your brain,” Makino said, interrupting her thoughts gently, handing her a drink.
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, taking the cup. “Maybe I am.”
Makino leaned against the railing beside her, both of them listening as Luffy cackled, completely carefree. “You’re thinking about leaving.” It wasn’t a question.
Y/N’s grip on the cup tightened. “…I’m supposed to go with him.”
“But?”
She exhaled, her gaze spotting Luffy. “I met my dad.”
Makino turned her head slightly, waiting. “I wasn’t looking for him. Didn’t even want to find him. But there he was.” Her voice wavered. “And now, I don’t know if I can just sail away like nothing happened.”
Makino nodded slowly. “Does Luffy know?”
“No.” A beat of silence.
“What do you want to do, Y/N?”
She swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Makino smiled knowingly. “You do. You’re just scared to admit it.”
Y/N clenched her jaw. “I promised I’d go with him.”
“Would Luffy ever hold that against you?”
She knew the answer. Of course, he wouldn’t. But—“It’s not about if he would,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “He’s—Luffy’s everything. My little brother, my family. One of the only people I have left.”
Makino’s expression softened. “And leaving him behind, even for a little while, feels like losing him?”
Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah.”
They both turned back toward the celebration. Luffy was now standing on a table, yelling about his future crew, about adventure, about becoming King of the Pirates. The whole village cheered for him like they always had.
Makino placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Family isn’t about always staying together. It’s about knowing you’ll find your way back to each other, no matter where you go.”
Y/N’s throat tightened.
Makino squeezed her shoulder before stepping away. “I think you already know what you need to do.”
Y/N stayed there a while longer, watching Luffy shine under the firelight.
Maybe Makino was right. But that didn’t make it any easier.
She had never had a family, not really. Not until Luffy (and Ace) had come crashing into her life, with his endless optimism and dreams too big for anyone to grasp. But now… there was this new reality. The reality that her father—her real father—was still out there, a part of a world she had no intention of being part of.
Makino’s words echoed in her mind. Family isn’t about always staying together.
But leaving was something different. It wasn’t just about distance; it was about choice. Her heart told her to go with Luffy, to stay by his side, where she was needed. But part of her was torn, that small, quiet voice deep inside reminding her that some things, once discovered, couldn’t be forgotten.
Luffy had always known what he wanted. That unshakable confidence in himself was something Y/N admired, envied even. He’d chosen his path so long ago, without hesitation. But for her, the decision wasn’t so simple.
She turned, her footsteps slow, unsure. The night seemed to hold its breath with her, the sound of distant laughter growing fainter.
Luffy’s figure reappeared at the far edge of the clearing, waving at her with an exaggerated grin. She couldn’t help the tug in her chest at the sight of him, so open, so trusting, so full of life.
The night was unusually quiet on the Moby Dick. Most of the crew had turned in for the night, leaving only a few scattered pirates still drinking and laughing in the background. At the center of it all, slumped against a barrel with a bottle loosely dangling from his fingers, was Izou.
Marco, Thatch, and a few others sat nearby, watching as their usually composed crewmate drowned himself in sake, something he rarely did to this extent.
“I should’ve said something.” Izou’s voice was thick with alcohol, his normally pristine posture long gone. His hair had come undone slightly, and his expression—usually so guarded—was wide open, raw with something none of them were used to seeing from him.
Marco raised an eyebrow. “About her?”
Izou let out a bitter laugh, taking another swig. “Of course about her. Who the hell else would I be talking about?”
Thatch nudged Marco before leaning forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. What would you have said?”
Izou’s fingers tightened around the bottle as he stared at the deck. His voice was quieter now. “That I knew who she was the second I saw her. That I wanted to say something. That I—” He cut himself off, gritting his teeth.
Whitebeard, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the night. “Then why didn’t you?”
Izou’s eyes burned as he looked up at his captain, his lips curling into something between a grimace and a tired smile. “Because I don’t deserve to.”
Marco sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Izou—”
“No, Marco.” Izou shook his head, eyes glassy, voice slurring slightly. “You don’t get it. I left her. I walked away, and she—she grew up without me. She became her own person, someone strong, someone who didn’t need me. And now, she’s standing in front of me, looking right at me, and I—” He swallowed hard, his grip on the bottle shaking. “I was too damn afraid to say anything.”
The confession hung in the air, heavy and unspoken until now.
Thatch leaned back, exhaling. “Damn.”
Marco’s expression softened. “She gave you a chance. You think she would’ve played that game with you if she didn’t want you to realize it yoi?”
Izou let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe. Or maybe she just wanted to see if I’d be a coward.”
Whitebeard took a slow sip from his own drink before setting the cup down. “She didn’t look at you with hate, Izou. If anything, she was waiting for you.”
Izou blinked, his shoulders trembling slightly. His mind drifted back to the way she had watched him, the way her eyes had held something deeper—something she had never said outright but had left for him to figure out.
And he had failed.
Marco, seeing the way Izou’s emotions were spiraling, sighed and reached for the bottle, plucking it from his grip. “Alright, that’s enough of that. No point in making yourself miserable when you’re too drunk to do anything about it, yoi.”
Izou didn’t even argue. He just leaned his head back against the barrel, closing his eyes. “I let her go,” he mumbled.
The ship creaked softly beneath them as the night settled into an uneasy quiet. The lanterns flickered, casting long, wavering shadows on the deck, while the soft slap of waves against the hull became a gentle lullaby.
Izou’s mind was racing, his thoughts tangled in knots he couldn’t quite untangle. He had never been good with regrets—too much of a warrior, too much of a pirate to let them stick. But this? This was different. This wasn’t a battle he could fight with violence. He couldn’t win by sheer force of will.
He had let her go. And now, it felt like he was standing on the edge of something he could never cross back over.
Thatch leaned in, voice soft but firm. “You gonna wallow in this all night?”
Izou’s eyes flickered open, and for a moment, he was tempted to lash out, to tell them to leave him be. But something about the way Thatch spoke stopped him. He knew the man cared, even if he often hid it behind his usual bravado.
“I’m not wallowing,” Izou muttered, his voice rough. “Just... thinking.”
“Thinking isn’t gonna fix anything.” Thatch’s words were blunt, but there was no malice behind them. “You’ve already done enough of that. You’ve gotta act now, before it’s too late.”
Izou closed his eyes again, his thoughts drifting back to the look in her eyes, the hurt she had tried to mask, the way she had seemed to understand—more than he did, maybe.
“What if it is too late?” Izou’s voice was barely a whisper.
Whitebeard, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke again. “You don’t know that yet, Izou.”
Izou’s head snapped up, meeting his captain’s gaze. “You’re sure about that?”
Whitebeard’s gaze was steady, unwavering, as if he saw something in Izou that the samurai himself could not. “I’ve watched many things happen in my time, son. And one thing I’ve learned is that regret is a heavy burden—but it’s not something that has to define you.” His voice lowered, becoming softer, more fatherly. “You have to give it a chance. No one’s asking you to be perfect. But if you want her to see that you’ve changed, that you’re worthy of her trust... well, that’s on you.”
Izou swallowed hard, the weight of those words sinking deep into him.
“And if she doesn’t want me back?” he asked, his voice raw.
Whitebeard gave a small, thoughtful smile. “Then you’ll know. But I don’t think that’s the answer you’ll find.” He paused, taking another slow sip from his drink. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
For the first time that night, Izou felt a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but there. Maybe he hadn’t lost everything. Maybe he had one more chance to make it right. He didn’t know how, or when, or even if it would work out.
But he knew one thing: he wasn’t going to let fear decide his future anymore.
“I’ll figure it out,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Marco clapped him on the back, the familiar, reassuring weight of the gesture making him feel less alone. “We know you will, yoi.”
The sun was merciless. Izou groaned as the light filtered through the sails, piercing through his pounding skull like a vice. His mouth was dry, and his head ached with the unmistakable weight of too much sake and too many regrets.
“You look like hell,” Marco’s voice came from somewhere to his left.
Izou didn’t even lift his head. “Feel worse.”
Marco chuckled, crouching beside him and setting down a cup of water. “Drink. You’ll thank me later yoi.”
Izou begrudgingly took it, sipping slowly as his thoughts sluggishly pulled themselves together. He vaguely remembered the night before—his ramblings, his confessions. The thought made his stomach twist.
Thatch plopped down on a crate nearby, grinning far too wide for Izou’s liking. “You were real sentimental last night, y’know.”
Izou scowled. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Oh, but we do.” Thatch leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You finally admitted what we all already knew.”
Izou exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “And what, exactly, did that change?”
Whitebeard’s deep voice cut through their conversation. “That depends on what you do with it.”
Izou stiffened slightly, looking up to see his captain watching him, arms crossed. His expression wasn’t judging, but it was expectant. “You think she’s waiting for me,” Izou said flatly.
Whitebeard didn’t blink. “She left the door open.”
Izou swallowed, his throat feeling tight. He knew that. He had felt it in the way she lingered, the way she played their game without ever outright confirming what they all knew.
“…What if I missed my chance?” he asked, voice quieter.
Marco sighed. “Then you wait for the next one.”
Izou’s fingers instinctively brushed against his sleeve, where the petal still rested, pressed between fabric like a secret waiting to be acknowledged.
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what to do.
But maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to figure it out alone.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of sunlight and idle chatter. Izou moved through it all in a daze, his mind unable to shake the weight of the previous night. The crew continued as they always did—laughing, drinking, shouting—but he couldn’t quite immerse himself in it the way he had before. Everything felt distant, like he was watching from behind a glass wall.
He found himself staring at the horizon, lost in thought, when Marco approached again, this time with a quiet determination in his step.
“You’ve got to stop thinking like it’s too late,” Marco said, his voice low but firm. “You’ve still got time, Izou. And you won’t know if you don’t take it yoi.”
Izou glanced up at him, his eyes tired but thoughtful. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Marco.”
Marco leaned against the railing beside him, gazing out at the open sea. “I think you know. But it’s not about getting it right. It’s about trying. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just... take the chance to make things right. Whatever that means for you.”
Izou clenched his jaw. “And if she doesn’t want it?”
Marco’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, Izou saw a flicker of something that felt almost like understanding. “Then you’ll know. But you can’t keep running from it.”
Izou didn’t say anything for a while. His hand gripped the railing, and for a moment, all he could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the ship. The endless, constant rhythm of the sea.
He knew he couldn’t go on like this. It had been so easy to walk away in the past, to justify the distance. But now? Now, it was harder to pretend. Harder to silence the feeling gnawing at him, the feeling that he hadn’t been honest with himself all along.
His thoughts drifted back to her—her gaze, the unspoken words between them. She hadn’t closed the door. She hadn’t turned away from him. And he... he had turned away from her. From something that could have been.
“I should’ve said something sooner,” Izou murmured.
“You still can yoi,” Marco said softly, resting a hand on Izou’s shoulder.
Izou exhaled slowly, looking back at the ship’s wake. The crew’s laughter, the sound of Thatch singing off-key nearby, faded into the background.
Maybe Marco was right. Maybe this wasn’t something he had to figure out alone. Maybe he didn’t need all the answers right now.
Maybe he just needed to take the first step.
With that thought in his mind, Izou straightened, his gaze set on the horizon. The world was still wide open, and despite everything that had happened, despite the distance he had created for himself, there was still a chance.
The fire’s crackling warmth had almost completely faded, and the night pressed in on all sides. The village, once alive with noise, now felt like a distant memory as the air grew cooler. Most of the villagers had left, their steps heavy with drink, their laughter a fading echo. Y/N remained by the fire, the embers casting fleeting shadows across her face. She had stayed behind, unwilling to leave just yet, but unsure of where her heart was pulling her.
Dadan, still managing to hold her own despite the evening’s revelry, appeared out of the shadows, her steps steady but her movements slower. She surveyed Y/N for a long moment before speaking.
“Kid, you’re not going anywhere until we talk.” Her voice was firm but laced with something softer—concern, maybe. Or understanding. Either way, Y/N wasn’t going to get away without this conversation.
Y/N turned to her, offering a half-hearted smile. Her gaze flickered to the sleeping mass of bandits in the distance, Luffy among them, sprawled and mumbling about becoming King of the Pirates in his sleep. She couldn’t help but feel a small ache in her chest as she watched him—so innocent, so full of dreams. So full of life.
“What do you want to talk about, Dadan?” Y/N asked, her voice betraying the weight of her thoughts.
“You know damn well.” Dadan lowered herself to sit beside her on the ground, arms crossed, her eyes catching the firelight. She glanced toward Luffy, her gaze lingering for a moment before turning back to Y/N. “He’s not gonna stay here forever.”
Y/N’s lips tightened, and she glanced at the horizon, not sure if she was ready to face the truth in Dadan’s words. “I know.”
Dadan’s voice softened slightly, but the firmness remained. “And neither are you, are you?”
“Maybe.” Y/N’s answer came out quieter than she intended, a reflection of the uncertainty that had settled deep in her chest. She had promised to stay by Luffy’s side, but now… now she wasn’t sure.
Dadan let out a quiet chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re one hell of a stubborn kid. Always have been. But this time… you’re running from something.”
Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drifted to the stars above, feeling the weight of the sky’s silence. The questions that had been swirling in her mind seemed louder now—more real. Was she running? Or was she just trying to protect what she held most dear? What was she afraid of?
“What is it you’re so afraid of?” Dadan nudged her gently. “Losing him? Or… losing yourself?”
The question hit harder than she expected. She had never truly thought about it that way.
“I… I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice quiet, the truth barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’ll be without him.”
Dadan raised an eyebrow, her tone shifting to something more serious now. “What is it you’re trying to protect, Y/N?”
The simplicity of the question caught her off guard, but it was like a switch had been flipped in her mind. It was as if Dadan had just peeled away the layers of her fear and left her vulnerable, exposed.
Y/N turned her eyes back to the flickering fire, the flames dancing in the night, and for a moment, she found herself struggling to put her feelings into words. She took a breath, steadying herself before speaking.
“Luffy’s my sun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
Dadan blinked, thrown off by the unexpected answer. “Your… sun?”
“I can’t let it go out.” Y/N continued, the words spilling from her with a desperate, protective longing she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying all this time. “I need it to always shine. I need him to always shine. If he doesn’t…” She trailed off, her gaze turning distant, the firelight casting shadows over her face. “Then what? What do I have left if I can’t protect that light?”
The silence between them stretched on as Dadan processed her words. She was quiet for a long time, her gaze fixed on the fire as if searching for the right thing to say. Then, in her usual gruff but surprisingly gentle manner, Dadan spoke.
“You’re the one who’s been shining for him all along, Y/N.” Her voice was low, full of understanding. “But you can’t be the sun if you’re buried in its shadow.”
The words settled on Y/N’s heart like a heavy weight. For the first time, she felt like someone understood—not just the fear she had, but the love that had tied her to Luffy all these years.
“I want to be with him. I do,” Y/N confessed, turning to face Dadan fully. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, raw with the emotion she had tried so hard to suppress. “But I’m scared that if I leave, I won’t be able to keep him safe. Or worse, I’ll let him down.”
Dadan’s gaze softened, the sharp edges of her usual demeanor melting away for a moment. “You’re not going to lose him, kid. Not unless you let him go.”
The weight of her words struck something deep inside Y/N. Let him go. It was what she had been so afraid of. But maybe, just maybe, it was the only way to truly protect him in the long run.
Y/N exhaled sharply, blinking back the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes. She looked back at Luffy, still sleeping peacefully in the moonlight, his small form so vulnerable in the quiet of the night. The deep ache in her chest threatened to consume her, but there was something else there too—a sense of acceptance.
For the first time, Y/N allowed herself to fully feel the weight of the decision ahead of her.
“I have to let him go,” she whispered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. But she knew, deep down, that it was the right thing. The only thing.
Dadan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, offering comfort without saying another word. It wasn’t a solution, but it was the understanding Y/N needed.
“You’ve been keeping him safe for years,” Dadan said softly, her voice full of quiet support. “It’s his turn now, even if it’s scary for you.”
Y/N’s tears fell silently, each drop a release of so many unspoken fears and unacknowledged pain. She hadn’t realized how tightly she had been holding onto him—how desperately she had clung to the idea that if she didn’t, she would lose him forever.
But letting go didn’t mean losing him.
Not forever.
And as the night deepened, as the fire burned low, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was time to step back and let him become the man he was always meant to be.
For both their sakes.
The atmosphere aboard the Moby Dick shifted when the Red Force docked alongside it. The Red-Haired Pirates were as lively as ever, their boisterous laughter and playful banter filling the air as they stepped onto Whitebeard’s ship, a familiar energy that somehow always managed to feel like a fresh breeze.
Shanks, ever the charismatic captain, approached with a bottle of sake in hand and a grin on his face. “It’s been a while, old man,” he called out to Whitebeard, his voice warm with the camaraderie of old friends.
Whitebeard’s deep chuckle rumbled through the ship. “You only show up when you want to drink,” he teased.
Shanks feigned offense, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “That’s not true!” he exclaimed, pausing for a beat before adding with a smirk, “Well, not entirely.”
The two captains exchanged playful jabs, their bond evident as they settled into the familiar rhythm of old friends catching up. Nearby, Marco, Thatch, and Izou stood quietly, observing the exchange.
It wasn’t long before Beckman’s sharp eyes flickered to the delicate flower tucked into the folds of Izou’s sleeve. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.
“Huh,” Beckman muttered, nudging Shanks with his elbow. “That looks familiar.”
Shanks’s gaze followed Beckman’s, his eyes narrowing as recognition flickered behind them. His smirk faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He turned to Izou, his usual playful demeanor now laced with curiosity. “Where’d you get that?”
Izou’s instinctive reaction was to curl his fingers around the fabric of his sleeve, as if to shield it from their gaze. “…Why?”
Yasopp, standing nearby, let out a low chuckle and crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving the flower. “Because we know someone who used to wear those same flowers in her hair.”
Marco and Thatch exchanged quick, knowing glances, the atmosphere subtly changing as the realization settled in. Izou’s grip on the fabric tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. “You met her,” he said, the words barely more than a rasp.
Shanks tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. “A while back. A couple of kids crossed paths with us—one fiery, one full of mischief. They had a lot to say about dreams, the sea, and a certain little brother.”.
Shanks leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more reflective tone. “She never said much about where she came from. But she had that same look in her eyes—like she was waiting for something.”
Beckman exhaled a slow plume of smoke from his cigarette, watching Izou closely. “Didn’t think much of it then, but looking at you now…” His gaze flickered again to the flower resting against Izou’s sleeve. “Well, it makes you wonder.”
Yasopp scoffed, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Tch. Deadbeat dads everywhere, huh?”
Izou’s chest tightened at the blunt words, a wave of discomfort rising within him. He flinched involuntarily, but before he could react, Shanks stepped in, his elbow nudging Yasopp with an exaggerated grunt.
“Not confirmed yet,” Shanks murmured in a quieter tone, his eyes now fixed on Izou with an intensity that matched the weight of the moment. “But… is it?”
The question hung between them, and for the longest time, Izou couldn’t find the words. His throat felt tight, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself speechless. He had spent so many years avoiding this truth, burying it deep inside. And now, standing before a crew that had seen her more recently than he had, standing before a group of pirates that, despite their easy banter, held a deeper understanding than most—he didn’t know how to face it.
Whitebeard’s steady voice cut through the silence, grounding Izou in the present. “She’s gone now. But that doesn’t mean the story is over.”
Izou’s gaze flickered to Whitebeard, his captain’s words resonating deep within him. It was true. She was gone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t more to their story. It didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to make things right, or at the very least, find some closure.
Shanks studied Izou for a long moment, and the easy grin returned to his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Well, if you ever figure it out, let her know we still owe her a drink.”
Izou exhaled shakily, his fingers brushing over the delicate petal once more, feeling the weight of its softness against his skin. He had failed her once. He had let her go, and now—now he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back. But hearing Shanks’s words, hearing Whitebeard’s steady presence behind him, something inside Izou shifted.
The quiet on the deck was deafening, settling like a heavy fog over the Moby Dick. The laughter and chatter of the Red-Haired Pirates had faded, leaving only the soft creaks of the ship as it swayed gently in the sea. The crew stood in their own silence, their attention fixated on Izou. Shanks and Beckman exchanged a silent glance, each of them sensing the weight of the moment. Neither spoke—this was something Izou had to face in his own time.
Izou’s fingers were absent-mindedly tracing the edges of the delicate petal, the soft pink hue standing out against the darkness of his sleeve. His grip tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. The petal was small, fragile, almost laughable in its simplicity. Yet, it felt like the heaviest thing in the world to him.
“She was tiny,” he murmured, his voice distant, like he was speaking from another time entirely. “Didn’t cry when they handed her to me. Just… stared at me. As if she was looking right through me.”
Marco stood leaning against the railing, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark but understanding. “Sounds familiar,” he said, his tone light but carrying a weight of its own.
Izou huffed softly, almost inaudibly, the laugh he made carrying no humor with it. “Yeah. She still does that. Just stares. Like she knows more than she lets on.”
Whitebeard’s voice rumbled from the side, a deep, almost comforting sound. “Not the type to give answers easily, that one.”
Thatch, always quick to throw in a comment, smirked, clearly amused by the memory. “She could have just told us straight up what was going on, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun for her, not for us,” Marco muttered, rolling his eyes.
Izou’s gaze softened, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. His fingers played absentmindedly with the petal, but his mind was far away, slipping through memories like pages in a book. “She always did that. Even as a kid, she had this way of making you work for things. She’d hide, darting off behind trees or over fences, and then I’d have to chase her down, only for her to giggle and run again. She always made me earn it. When I finally caught her, she’d let me pick her up, and she’d smile like she won.”
Yasopp let out a loud snort from the back of the group, clearly amused. “Yeah, that tracks. Sounds like a nightmare.”
Izou exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around the petal once again. He could feel the soft, delicate texture between his fingertips, but it was almost as if he were holding something far heavier. “I remember the first time she called me anything. She didn’t say ‘Izou,’ didn’t say my name at all. Just ‘Otou-Chan.’ It was simple. But it meant everything.”
A long, heavy silence followed, the kind that pressed down on all of them, pulling the air from the space. Even the waves crashing against the ship seemed to quiet in reverence.
“She was so small,” Izou continued, his voice quieter now, as if each word was a painful thread he had to unravel. “She used to hold onto my sleeve whenever we walked. Tiny hands clutching it like she thought if she let go, I’d just disappear. That... that I wouldn’t come back. It was like she thought the world would take me away from her.”
Beckman, who had been silently listening, let out a slow breath, the kind of exhale you give when the weight of someone else’s pain settles into your bones. “Damn,” he muttered softly.
Izou’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His heart pounded in his chest, and it felt like he was reliving those moments all over again, seeing her small, trusting face in his mind’s eye.
Shanks, who had been leaning against the mast, took a slow swig from his bottle. The liquid sloshed in his throat before he spoke, his voice easy but sharp. “And then you left.”
The words landed like a physical blow. They weren’t cruel, not really, but they felt like a punch all the same.
Izou flinched, his body stiffening at the reminder. His jaw clenched, his eyes hardening for a moment before the mask slipped away. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice low and raw. “I left. I didn’t even look back.”
Another silence, thicker than before. The kind that seemed to choke the air around them.
Whitebeard, always the steady rock, let out a deep rumble, his voice cutting through the tension like a wave crashing on rocks. “You thought you were doing the right thing.”
Izou didn’t answer right away. The words hung in the air, settling around him, and he could feel the storm of memories swirling in his mind. His throat felt tight, and his chest ached in a way he couldn’t explain.
Finally, he spoke, his voice strained. “I didn’t think at all.” He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of all his regrets. “I didn’t. I just... I just left. I didn’t want to hurt her. I thought... I thought walking away would protect her. But I only made things worse. And I knew it. The moment I turned my back, I knew.”
There was a long pause. No one spoke. The rest of the crew stood there, their expressions quiet and understanding, but not pitying. It was a kind of shared silence—one that spoke of pain and regret but also of understanding.
Whitebeard let out a soft, almost tender chuckle. “You didn’t think it through, Izou. But that’s the thing about family. It’s never too late to try again.”
The memory hit him like a wave crashing against the shore—sharp, vivid, and relentless. It was one of those moments he couldn’t escape, no matter how many times he tried to bury it beneath the weight of time. The details were clearer now, each one etched into his mind with a clarity that almost stung. The air had been heavy with tension, thick with words unsaid. His hands, trembling despite his best efforts to stay composed, had betrayed him in that moment.
She had been so small, so fragile in that moment. Barely reaching his waist, she had looked up at him with wide, confused eyes, a soft frown pulling at her lips as she tried to make sense of the situation. The world was moving so fast, but she had no understanding of why everything felt so wrong.
“Iz—” Her voice wavered, unsure, fragile. She didn’t call him “otou-chan” that day. She hadn’t even tried. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, she had already known. Children had a way of sensing things adults didn’t understand. Maybe she’d known from the start that something wasn’t right—that he wasn’t staying, that everything was about to change.
He had crouched down in front of her, trying to hide the tremor in his hands as he fumbled with the small object he had kept hidden in his palm. It was a hairpin—delicate, intricate, the kind of thing that seemed fragile and small in the palm of his hand but held a promise he couldn’t keep. One piece of it had broken off long ago, but he had kept the fragment, a reminder of something he couldn’t take back.
“For you,” he had said, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. “So you don’t forget.”
She had taken it from him with the instinct of someone who recognized the weight of what she was being given. Her tiny fingers had curled around the broken piece as though it were the most precious thing in the world—like it was all she needed to keep a piece of him with her.
She hadn’t asked why. She hadn’t questioned him. She had only held the fragment tightly, her expression softening in a way that made his heart ache.
Did she know then? Had she already known that he was leaving? That he was breaking a promise he had made to her before she could even remember it?
Izou’s breath hitched as the memory drifted back into the present, leaving him with the weight of his guilt. He had kept the drink in his hand, the glass pressed so tightly against his palm that it almost hurt. His fingers were tight around it, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tremor inside him.
“You gave her a hairpin?” Thatch’s voice broke the silence, loud and curious, pulling him back to the present.
Izou nodded slowly, his gaze still distant. “Half of one.”
Marco frowned, his eyes sharp as he studied Izou. “Why yoi?”
Izou exhaled, the weight of the question sinking in. He should have an answer. He should know why he had given it to her. But the truth was, even now, he wasn’t sure how to explain it. “I don’t know,” he said, the words tumbling out like a lie.
It wasn’t the truth, though. He had known. Even then, he had known exactly what it meant. It was a promise—a promise he had made, and then broken the moment he turned away from her. He had hoped the hairpin would be enough to keep her from forgetting, from feeling abandoned. It was the one thing he could give her to hold onto. But the irony, the cruelty of it, was that he had forgotten to keep his own promise. And now she still wore it.
Izou’s grip on his drink tightened once more. The glass was cool against his palm, but it couldn’t quell the fire in his chest. She hadn’t forgotten. She had held on, even after everything. Despite the distance, the years that had passed, she still wore it. She hadn’t forgotten. And in a way, that hurt more than anything else.
The sun was barely rising, casting a gentle pink hue across the sky as the first light of morning crept over Dawn Island. The air was cool, but the warmth of the day was beginning to make itself known. Luffy sat on the edge of the porch, his legs dangling off the side as he absentmindedly kicked his feet, the soft breeze tousling his hair in every direction. Y/N stood behind him, leaning against the wooden railing, her gaze lost somewhere on the horizon, though her mind was far away.
Luffy had been unusually quiet this morning. His usual boundless energy seemed absent, replaced by a kind of thoughtful stillness that didn’t quite fit the usual rhythm of his mornings.
“You know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, his voice uncharacteristically calm, “I’ve been thinking a lot about something.”
Y/N glanced down at him, raising an eyebrow, surprised by his rare introspection. “What’s that?”
Luffy’s gaze didn’t waver from the horizon, but there was a small, unbothered smile on his lips, as if whatever he was about to say was something that had been sitting with him for a while. “You still haven’t found your dream, have you?”
The question hit her like a jolt. Y/N stiffened, her chest tightening. It was something she had been running from for years, something she had never really allowed herself to confront. The truth hung heavy in the air between them, and her first instinct was to brush it off, to deny it, to keep her walls firmly in place.
“I have a dream,” she replied, her voice soft and defensive, even though she knew she wasn’t convincing anyone, least of all herself. “I want to be the most powerful.”
Luffy didn’t flinch at her words, didn’t respond with his usual teasing or challenge. His eyes remained steady on hers, unbothered yet sharp in a way that made Y/N feel vulnerable in the face of his simplicity. “But why?”
The question caught her off guard, and for a moment, she had to search for the right words. She opened her mouth, and the answer was already there, instinctual, like it had been waiting on the tip of her tongue all along.
“So no one can abandon me.” Her voice softened, a quiet sadness lacing her words. “So I won’t be left alone again.”
Luffy didn’t break his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, no censure, just a quiet understanding that made the weight of her words even heavier. The silence between them stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally spoke again.
“That’s not your dream.”
The words cut through her like a knife. She blinked, taken aback, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”
Luffy turned fully to face her, his expression shifting from playful to something much more serious. It was a look she wasn’t used to seeing on him, but there was a quiet sincerity there that made her feel like he was speaking from a place of truth. “Your dream isn’t about being the strongest. You don’t need to be the strongest to stop being afraid of losing people. You need to be strong in a way that you can live with, not just for others. You need to find what you really want.”
Her heart clenched in her chest, the words hitting her harder than she had expected. A bitter lump formed in her throat, and she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “Luffy, I…” She trailed off, her mind racing, unsure of how to even begin to process what he was saying.
“Why do you protect me so much, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but the weight of the question still hung between them, full of meaning and significance.
The question hit her harder than anything he had said before. It wasn’t a simple question. It wasn’t about why she watched over him or why she always made sure he was safe. No, it was something deeper. It was the question that had been lurking in her heart for years, one she had never wanted to ask herself.
“Because…” She found herself searching for words, the weight of everything she had carried for so long pressing down on her. “Because you’re my sun. I need you to keep shining so I can keep going. You’re the only thing I know that keeps me from falling into the dark. If I lose you, I… I won’t know what to do anymore.”
Luffy’s expression softened. He looked at her with a mixture of affection and something else—something she couldn’t quite place—but it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t judgment. It was something that made her chest ache and her throat tighten. “Then you’re not just protecting me, Y/N.”
Her brow furrowed, confused by the shift in his tone.
“You’re hiding behind me.” He smiled, but it was different this time. It wasn’t his usual goofy grin. It was something more grounded, something full of understanding. “And you can’t hide forever. You need to find out who you really are, what your dream is. Or else you’ll always be stuck trying to protect me from behind your own fear.”
The words struck her harder than she could have anticipated. They were true, too true, and the realization hit her like a wave, knocking the breath out of her lungs. She had spent so long focusing on protecting him, on keeping him safe, that she had forgotten to ask herself what she wanted. She had forgotten to even consider that her own life and future mattered just as much.
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words were lost before they could leave her lips. The truth of it all was overwhelming.
“You’re not the only one who needs to grow up, Y/N,” Luffy continued, standing up from his seat with his usual carefree energy, brushing off his shorts. “I’m going to set sail soon, and when I do, I need you to be ready. Not to protect me, but to follow your own dream. You can’t figure out who you really are if you don’t stop hiding.”
Y/N stared at him, speechless, as the weight of his words sank in deeper than she wanted to admit. She had always thought her life revolved around protecting him, but in doing so, she had been running away from herself. From her own desires, her own dreams.
Luffy turned toward her, his eyes soft but firm. “I don’t want you to follow me just because I’m your little brother. I want you to follow your own adventure. Find what makes you, you.”
The sun had risen higher, bathing the island in golden light, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt something stir inside her—a small spark of clarity. Maybe, just maybe, Luffy was right.
But finding her own dream? That was going to be a journey all on its own.
The moment Izou’s words left his mouth, Marco’s expression shifted instantly. The usual calm, the lazy drawl—gone.
“You don’t know?” Marco’s voice was low, almost a growl.
Izou barely had time to process before Marco was pushing off the railing, stepping toward him with a dangerous intensity in his eyes that Izou wasn’t used to seeing.
“You don’t know why you left a kid behind?” Marco’s voice was sharp, almost too quiet. “Pops gave all of us a family, Izou. And you—” Marco exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You already had one yoi.”
Izou’s grip on his drink tightened, his fingers curling around the glass as the weight of the past pressed down on him again.
“I know,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Marco scoffed, clearly not satisfied. “Do you?”
The rest of the crew had fallen silent. The Red-Haired Pirates, too, were watching with rapt attention, but no one spoke up. The air was thick with tension, each moment dragging longer than the last.
Izou didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the cup in his hand, avoiding Marco’s fierce stare.
“Do you even realize what you did?” Marco pressed, his voice growing more intense. “You left her. A kid. Alone.” Marco’s wings fluttered behind him as he took a small step closer, clearly restraining his anger, but still letting it leak through. “And somehow—somehow—she turned out fine yoi.”
Izou’s voice was quiet when he spoke, admitting something that felt like the heaviest of truths. “That’s not because of me.”
“No.” Marco’s voice was like a whip crack, sharp and cutting. “It’s in spite of you.”
The words stung, sharp as a blade. And Marco was right. Izou had been running from that truth for years, but it never stopped gnawing at him.
Whitebeard, sitting at the far end of the deck, finally spoke. His voice was calm, but heavy with years of wisdom. “Did you ever think of going back?”
Izou’s gaze shifted to the petal in his palm, his fingers tracing its edges absently. The memory of that moment with her, the promise he had broken so easily, felt as fresh as the day it happened.
“…I couldn’t,” he muttered, his throat tight, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
Marco’s jaw clenched. “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”
Izou stayed silent, his grip on the petal tightening. The weight of it—the guilt, the shame—pressed down on him harder than it ever had before.
Marco wasn’t letting it go.
“Silence is not an answer,” Marco growled, stepping closer, narrowing the distance between them. His eyes were locked on Izou’s now, full of frustration. “You couldn’t go back? Why? What the hell was stopping you yoi?”
Izou kept his mouth shut, jaw set in a tight line.
Marco scoffed, his voice cutting through the tension. “What, guilt? Shame? You think that’s worse than what she went through yoi?” His voice was rough, raw with frustration, but there was something else in it too—a hint of hurt.
Izou flinched, the sting of Marco’s words cutting deeper than he expected.
“You know what gets me?” Marco continued, his tone shifting as the frustration bled into something else—something deeper. “She never once asked for anything from us. She just... watched. Waited. And when we finally cornered her about it, you remember what she did yoi?”
“She let us ask one question,” Marco snapped, his voice sharp with an edge of frustration. “One.”
Thatch, who had been quiet up to now, exhaled a long breath. “...She made a deal with us.”
Izou looked at Thatch, confused as to where they where going, but Thatch’s gaze was steady, serious.
“Yeah,” Thatch said, crossing his arms. “She played it like a game. Let us think we won.” He shook his head. “But it was never about that, was it?”
Izou stared at him, trying to process, but Marco was the one to finish it.
“She wanted to see if we’d ask,” Marco said, his voice thick with frustration and something close to bitterness. “If we cared enough to. She gave us her brother’s name. Luffy. She made sure we knew she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t need us yoi.”
Izou’s heart twisted at the thought. She had always been that way—stubborn, unwilling to let anyone see how much she hurt.
Thatch’s voice softened. “But she left you something anyway, huh?” His eyes flickered down to the petal in Izou’s hand. “So what does that mean?”
Izou stared at it. It meant she was still waiting. After all this time, after everything he’d done… she still hadn’t closed the door on him.
“…I don’t know what to do,” Izou whispered, his voice hoarse, as the weight of his own failure crushed him.
Marco inhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as if trying to release the tension in his body. He muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “Figure it out, yoi.”
The silence that followed was deep, broken only by the soft sounds of the ocean against the ship’s hull. No one spoke for a long time.
Then, Thatch, ever the one to lighten the mood, huffed and shook his head. “Well, no rush. I mean, it’s only been over a decade, right?”
Izou shot him a sharp look, but Thatch just grinned, unbothered. “Relax. You’re already a deadbeat—what’s a little more time?”
Marco sighed heavily, a tired, exasperated sound. “You are not helping yoi.”
Thatch shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. “Yeah, but I am right.”
The crew murmured in agreement, but Izou felt something shift within himself. The weight of the past wasn’t going to disappear, but he couldn’t keep running from it.
Izou closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Yeah, they were right. And maybe it was finally time to figure it out.
The sun had begun its slow descent below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The cool evening breeze whispered through the trees on Dawn Island, and the gentle lapping of the waves against the dock filled the air with a calming rhythm. Y/N stood at the edge of the pier, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched Luffy, sitting a few feet away, tossing rocks into the water. He hadn't said much all day. His silence echoed the heaviness between them, the weight of the conversation they had shared the night before still lingering in the air. Neither of them seemed ready to say the things that needed to be said.
Y/N hesitated, her heart beating faster with each passing second. The words she had been holding in for so long were finally bubbling to the surface, but they were harder to speak than she had expected.
"Luffy..." She started, her voice soft but resolute.
Luffy looked up at her, his trademark grin spreading across his face, but Y/N could see the shadows in his eyes. For a brief moment, it was like he wasn’t just her little brother; he was a boy on the brink of something much bigger. Something they both had to face.
He said nothing at first. Y/N stepped closer, her feet dragging a little on the worn dock, the weight of the moment pulling her down.
His smile faltered, just a little. His eyes met hers, but for a brief moment, he looked away, gaze drifting toward the water. Then, without another word, he stood up and dusted off his pants, a sudden quiet resolve in his movements.
"You don’t need to worry about me, Y/N," Luffy said, his voice steady now, reassuring. "You’re not gonna be alone. I’m gonna see you again, with my crew. We’re gonna be pirates together one day, right?"
The air seemed to still around them, the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore growing fainter. Y/N felt a strange twist in her chest. It was all so... final, in a way that neither of them had expected. She nodded, her throat tight.
"You’ll be the King of the Pirates," she said quietly, her words imbued with a quiet pride.
“Damn right I will!” Luffy shouted suddenly, raising his fist into the air with his usual exuberance. "And I’ll have my crew! They’re gonna be great, just wait!"
The intensity of his enthusiasm was contagious, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly despite the ache in her chest. Luffy paused, taking in a deep breath, and his expression softened. The boy who never took anything too seriously had finally grown into someone who understood a little more about the weight of the world.
“But you don’t need to worry, big sis,” Luffy said, his voice softer now. “You’ve got your own path. And when we meet again, we’ll both be stronger. You’ll see.”
His words pierced through her heart, and Y/N felt a surge of emotions she hadn’t known she could still feel. She had always been the one to protect him, but now... now it was time to let him go. To let him grow into the man he was destined to be.
"I know, Luffy," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I know."
Luffy grinned widely, the same infectious smile she had known all her life. “Don’t forget to keep your eyes on the horizon, okay? We’ll meet again, I promise.”
Y/N nodded, but her throat tightened, the lump in her chest threatening to choke her. She couldn’t let the tears fall now, not in front of him. Not when he was looking at her with such unshakable confidence.
As she turned to leave, feeling the first stirrings of the weight of this new chapter in her life, Luffy called out to her one last time.
“Hey, big sis!”
She paused, glancing back at him. His eyes were steady now, his gaze full of that quiet determination.
“Don’t be afraid to chase your dream, alright?” He winked at her, the familiar glint in his eye making her smile despite herself. “I’ll be waiting for you when you do!”
With that, Luffy turned back toward the horizon, his back straight, his face set in determination. Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her heart swelling with pride for him, and for herself. She wasn’t sure where her journey would lead her, but somehow, with Luffy's words in her heart, she knew she’d find it.
A soft tear slipped down her cheek as she wiped it away quickly, not wanting to give in to the weight of the farewell. She turned her back to him, her feet carrying her back toward her boat. She would figure it all out—her dream, her path.
Maybe it wasn’t about finding the answers right away. Maybe it was about trusting that, no matter what happened, she wouldn’t have to choose between the two parts of her life—father or brother, past or future. Not now. Not yet.
She knew one thing for certain: There would be time. Time to figure it all out. And when the moment came, she’d be ready to see Luffy again, standing tall beside his crew, just as he had always dreamed.
No matter what came her way, she would always come back to him. She had to.
Y/n was captured and being auction, kings and queens, celestial dragons and Germa 66 (vinsmokes family) were all there. Y/n is last at the auction as they made it a game. Celestial dragons and Germa 66 we're the only ones who were betting the most. (The Germa 66 won the big metal box while the celestial dragons won me.) (Y/n is in one metal box, chained up completely and muzzled. While the other big box is empty) the game is rigged for the celestial dragon to pick me but they wanted the big box instead (but it's empty). So the Germa 66 have me instead,not knowing they have the most wanted pirate in their hands. * *y/n have pale skin, long black hair (past her waist), icy blue eyes, eyelashes are curled and full. Y/n height is 6'0". Y/n have a tone body, have a permanent carved smile on her face and tongue is split. and her breast are c cups. (Y/n have pierced nipples). Covered in Scars (mainly on her back, back legs, back of the knees and ankles were cut multiple times to keep her from running)* the Germa 66 we're shocked after they open the metal box, seeing her inside chained and muzzled. Glaring at them while growling demonic at them. The Germa 66 taunts at the celestial dragons after they open theirs and there is nothing inside. They examine y/n and seeing she's perfect women for ichiji as his queen (made a list what he wants his soon to be queen to have and I have all the check list, also being a virgin as well)
(Background) *Y/n is a female pirate. Called Soul Reaper, wanted by the government. Y/n was an orphan along with her twin sister. The y/n and her twin sister taken in to be trained by the government but the training and experiment were brutal and inhumane. The twin sister died and y/n witness her death as y/n couldn't do anything. It broke y/n completely, having demon royalty blood and unlocking demonic abilities no one knew about. Years go by as y/n is 20 years old and the most wanted pirate, but y/n wanted poster isn't sent out for everyone to know. As the Marines and government don't want to cause more trouble. The only one who knows about y/n are the government, marines, celestial dragons and Germa 66.* (you can add where the NSFW will be. I want the y/n be with ichiji vinsmoke)
A/N: Sorry it took so long, also I wrote this one in like 3 different parts as I forgot the smut. so hopefully it's all consistent. Thank you for being my very first request and so I made it a little special this one time.
Warning: SMUT
The grand hall echoed with a hushed murmur of voices, rich with anticipation. Guests dressed in lavish attire milled about the room, the faint sounds of crystal glasses clinking and muted laughter filling the air. The auction was a rare spectacle, reserved for only the wealthiest, most powerful figures in the world.
Two large, imposing metal boxes stood at the center of the room. One was elaborately decorated, its surface covered in gold etchings and ornate patterns. The other was stark and plain, its surface nondescript and unadorned, a stark contrast to the glimmering box beside it.
As the auction began, the spotlight fell on the first box, which had caught the attention of the Celestial Dragons. They had heard whispers about this event and assumed that whatever lay inside the golden box was something they could not pass up. With their wealth and power, they were certain they would secure this coveted prize.
The auctioneer raised his hand, a commanding figure standing before the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you have the opportunity to acquire a most unique... treasure,” he announced, his voice carrying across the room. “This is not just any item. What lies within this box is of immense value—something unlike anything you've seen before.”
The Celestial Dragons exchanged knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with interest. They were already prepared to bid. No one else stood a chance. The auctioneer's voice rang out, "Let the bidding begin!"
As expected, the Celestial Dragons raised their paddles first, eager to secure their prize. However, before they could get too comfortable, another voice cut through the air.
“Germa 66 bids,” a cool voice declared from the back of the room.
Ichiji Vinsmoke, the eldest of the Vinsmoke family, stood tall among his brothers, his cold, calculating gaze focused on the ornate box. His fingers flexed, prepared to enter the bidding war. Beside him, his younger brothers—Niji and Yonji—exchanged a knowing look. Germa 66 had never been interested in the obvious prize. They had always played the game differently, with a mind for strategy and hidden opportunities.
The Celestial Dragons scowled as the bid for the ornate box continued to rise, but they were not the only ones bidding now. The presence of Germa 66 added an unexpected wrinkle to the plan, and they were not pleased by it.
The auction continued, the bids escalating rapidly. The Celestial Dragons, accustomed to getting what they wanted, raised their bids higher and higher. But then, to their surprise, Germa 66 made a final bid that surpassed theirs.
"Germa 66 has secured the first box!" the auctioneer declared.
The Celestial Dragons’ disappointment was palpable, but they did their best to hide their frustration. They had lost. The ornate box—what they assumed contained their prize—was now in the hands of the Vinsmokes.
With a huff, they turned their attention to the second, less ornate box. “I suppose we’ll take this one then,” one of the Celestial Dragons muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “There’s nothing in this one of value, anyway.”
The auctioneer nodded, his gaze moving toward Germa 66’s box. “And now, the winning bid for the second box. Germa 66, if you please.”
Ichiji made a quick gesture to his men. "Let’s see what we’ve acquired," he said coolly, barely sparing the second box a glance.
The moment the box was brought forward to the Vinsmokes, a strange tension filled the room. Though they hadn't anticipated anything of value in the plain box, the Vinsmokes were still intrigued. Germa 66 had won, and now it was time to claim their prize, whatever it might be.
Ichiji, with his usual calm demeanor, stepped forward, carefully lifting the lid of the metal box. A few of the more curious onlookers leaned in, eager to see what Germa 66 had won, though there was an air of confusion about the contents of such an unassuming crate.
When the lid creaked open, the room fell silent.
Inside the box lay a woman.
Chained at the wrists and ankles, she was bound tightly, a muzzle strapped across her face. Long, flowing black hair cascaded over her shoulders, spilling from the confines of her restraints like ink in water. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, a stark contrast to the heavy chains that bound her body. She was unconscious—or so it seemed—though even in her restrained state, there was something undeniable about her presence.
The crowd remained still, unsure of what they were witnessing.
The Vinsmokes stood frozen, gazing down at the woman. For a long moment, no one spoke. Ichiji's eyes narrowed, inspecting the figure before him. Something about her seemed... familiar, though he couldn’t place why.
Then, as if on cue, the woman’s eyes snapped open.
Icy blue eyes—striking and unnatural—locked onto Ichiji’s. Her glare was cold and full of rage, and her lips curled in a snarl beneath the muzzle. She growled low, a guttural sound that sent a chill down his spine.
“What is this?” Niji asked, taking a step back. “Who is she?”
Ichiji remained still, staring down at her, his intrigue growing. He had expected something entirely different—perhaps a valuable relic, or a rare treasure—but this woman, her defiance clear even in her chained state, was something entirely unexpected.
“I’m not sure,” Ichiji said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “But it seems we have found something... far more interesting.”
Sabrina’s growl grew louder, her chest heaving with every breath. She was defiant, even in her weakened state, and the Vinsmokes could feel it. There was power in her, something they couldn’t quite understand.
One of Ichiji’s men stepped forward cautiously, but Sabrina bared her teeth at him, her eyes flashing with fury. She didn’t need to speak to convey her message: Don't touch me.
“She's dangerous,” Yonji murmured, his voice laced with uncertainty. “What do we do with her?”
Ichiji, ever the strategist, continued to observe her, his mind working quickly. “She’s clearly valuable,” he said, his eyes scanning the scars that marred her body—evidence of a brutal life. "Perhaps she could be of use to us."
Sabrina, still glaring at him, spat through the muzzle, the venom in her eyes unmistakable. I’m no one’s tool.
Ichiji’s lips curled into a smile. "We’ll see about that."
The Vinsmokes, now realizing that they had not acquired just any prize, began to discuss amongst themselves. They had won something far more dangerous than they had anticipated—a woman who could prove useful, perhaps, but one who would not be easily controlled. Sabrina’s eyes never left Ichiji. The game had just begun.
As they prepared to transport Sabrina, the Vinsmokes realized that their prize—whatever it was—was not going to be easy to handle. The woman’s resistance was clear, and while they had the upper hand for now, they knew this would be a battle of wills.
Ichiji stepped forward, giving the order to transport her. “Keep her restrained, but we’ll learn more about her later,” he said coolly, though the curiosity in his voice was hard to ignore.
As the Vinsmokes made their way through the grand hall, Sabrina’s chains clinked with every step she took. The air was thick with tension, the silence broken only by the sound of her low growls and the occasional murmur from the onlookers. Though she was bound, her presence was anything but passive. Her icy blue eyes continued to burn with fury as she was dragged, step by reluctant step, toward the back of the hall.
Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji walked ahead, the brothers discussing their prize in low, calculating voices. “She’s capable of far more trouble than we know,” Yonji murmured, glancing over his shoulder. “She’s a beast.”
Ichiji, the most composed of the three, did not respond immediately. He continued to study the woman before him, noting the way she glared at him, as though daring him to make a move. There was something about her that unsettled him, though he couldn’t quite place why. She didn’t look like someone who belonged in an auction; she looked like someone who had survived a battle—or perhaps caused one herself.
“We should have the doctor examine her,” Niji suggested, his voice cool. “She’s clearly seen some serious abuse. Those scars…” He trailed off, his eyes scanning the gashes that marred her body, particularly the deep cuts along her back and legs.
Ichiji, still deep in thought, glanced at Niji and then at Sabrina. “I don’t trust anyone who’s been through that kind of treatment and survived. There’s something about her that feels dangerous, like she’s more than she appears.”
Before Niji could reply, Sabrina’s growl deepened, vibrating through her chest. Her eyes locked onto Ichiji’s again, her gaze never wavering. It was as if she were challenging him, daring him to push her any further.
He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “So, you think you can scare me?” he mused, his voice cold and disinterested. He stepped forward, but not too close—he wanted to gauge her reactions. “You’re in no position to make threats.”
Sabrina’s tongue flicked out from beneath the muzzle, her split tongue briefly curling around the edges as she growled again, her breath short but filled with rage. She wanted nothing more than to rip those chains apart and escape, to show them that she wasn’t as helpless as they believed.
The trio continued down the hall, passing through a door that led into a much quieter, more private section of the building. They entered a room that appeared to be a holding cell, a temporary place where they could contain their prize before deciding what to do next. The walls were lined with cold stone, and the only source of light came from a single, dim lantern hanging from the ceiling.
Ichiji turned to one of his men, nodding toward Sabrina. “Lock her up in here. She’ll need to be monitored. I don’t want any surprises.”
The soldier nodded, reaching for the chains binding Sabrina’s wrists and ankles. However, as soon as the chains were loosened, Sabrina lashed out, her body twisting like a snake as she attempted to strike at the man nearest to her. Her movement was swift and fluid, almost too fast for the man to react. But the muzzle and the remaining restraints kept her from making any substantial impact.
Ichiji observed the scene with quiet interest, his hands folded behind his back. “Impressive. You certainly don’t act like a captured prisoner.”
Sabrina growled, her eyes seething with hatred. She didn’t answer, not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. The muzzle made it impossible to speak, but the fire in her eyes conveyed everything.
She was far from beaten.
Ichiji turned to his brothers. “We’ll need to be cautious. I don’t care how much she resists. There’s something valuable here—she’s not just a prize; she’s a weapon. We can use that.”
“You don’t think she’s too dangerous?” Niji asked, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
“Dangerous?” Ichiji’s eyes gleamed with cold amusement. “She may be dangerous, but that makes her even more useful. We can train her. Break her. Control her. We’ve done it before.”
Sabrina’s eyes narrowed as she heard Ichiji’s words. She wouldn’t be broken. She refused to be controlled again. Not by anyone. The chains clinked as the guards finally restrained her in a corner of the room, the cold stone beneath her making her feel even more trapped. She looked around quickly, scanning for any potential weaknesses. There had to be a way out, a way to escape.
“Get some rest,” Ichiji said, his tone dismissive as he turned to leave the room. “Tomorrow, we begin testing her limits.”
As the door shut behind him, Sabrina’s body tensed. She could feel the weight of the chains that still held her, but she refused to let it show. The Vinsmokes had made a grave mistake. They had underestimated her, thinking she was just another prize to be won, she wasn’t just a prisoner. She was the Soul Reaper, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
It had been a long time since she’d been in a cell, but she knew how to deal with this. She had escaped worse. She would do it again. The only thing the Vinsmokes had earned was her hatred.
The days dragged on in the cold, stone-walled cell, each one melding into the next. Sabrina's restraints were tightened periodically, her movements monitored carefully. The Vinsmokes didn’t trust her, and with good reason. They had underestimated her, but now they were slowly learning how dangerous it was to make that mistake. Every day, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji would come to examine her, though Sabrina was always given a cold reception—chains still in place, muzzle tight. But she never showed fear. Her icy blue eyes remained unwavering, full of hatred and defiance.
It wasn’t long before the Vinsmokes realized that Sabrina was no ordinary captive. While they had hoped to break her spirit quickly, the opposite seemed to happen. Growing stronger with each passing day, her body became more attuned to the weight of the chains. The more they restricted her, the more she pushed back.
“Do you think she’s becoming more resistant?” Yonji asked one day, leaning against the cold stone wall, his voice laced with concern.
Ichiji stood before her, watching intently as Sabrina sat motionless in the corner, her posture tense but controlled. She had not moved for hours, staring off into the distance with a focused intensity. Her lips barely moved, but a low growl rumbled in her chest—a warning.
“She’s not just resisting,” Ichiji replied, his voice calm but calculating. “She’s adapting. The more we try to break her, the stronger she becomes. It’s like she thrives on it.”
Niji raised an eyebrow. “You think she’s intentionally making us think she’s unbreakable?”
Ichiji didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied Sabrina’s unyielding expression. He could sense the power in her, the dangerous energy that lay beneath her cold exterior. “She’s not pretending. She’s stronger than we thought. But that only makes her more valuable.”
The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. If Sabrina had truly unlocked some sort of power, it could be more than just a simple tool for them. She could become a weapon—if they could tame her.
So far, taming the Soul Reaper was proving to be no easy task.
Two weeks later
Sabrina had long since stopped trying to break her chains through force alone. She had learned her lesson: patience was key. The Vinsmokes were growing complacent, believing that their security was enough to keep her in check. But Sabrina wasn’t the type to simply sit idly by and wait to be broken.
Ichiji had come to visit again, as he did every day now. He stood just outside her cell, arms crossed, observing her as she sat on the cold stone floor. Her eyes, once full of fire, were now a dangerous, focused calm. She had learned everything she needed to know about the Vinsmokes’ operations, their schedules, and the weaknesses of the room she was confined in.
Ichiji’s face remained unreadable as he spoke, his voice low. “You know, we’ve learned a great deal about you over these last few weeks. You’re not like other prisoners, are you? You don’t break. Not easily, anyway.”
Sabrina didn’t respond. Her gaze never wavered from his, but she remained silent. He was just another obstacle to overcome. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ichiji continued, “about what to do with you. You’re not like the others. You’ve got spirit, power. If you were to cooperate, you’d be worth more than any weapon we could create.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his tone shifting slightly. “You could be my queen.”
Sabrina’s lips curled in a bitter smile beneath the muzzle, her eyes narrowing with disdain. He thought he could control her. That was laughable. The Vinsmokes weren’t the ones who would decide her fate.
Ichiji’s eyes flicked to her lips for a moment, watching the way she reacted to his words. He wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or just refusing to acknowledge the idea entirely. But her silence only intrigued him further.
“You might not like the idea now,” he said, his voice firm. “But give it time. You’ll see that cooperating with us is your best option. We can make you something more than just a prisoner.”
Sabrina’s thoughts briefly flickered to her twin sister. She could almost hear her sister’s voice, telling her to fight. Never give up. Don’t let them break you. You’re the Soul Reaper. You can’t let them win.
Her gaze hardened as she lifted her head, meeting Ichiji’s eyes once more. There was a fire behind them that burned bright despite her stillness.
“You will never control me,” she said, the words muffled but still audible through the muzzle.
Ichiji stepped back, clearly intrigued by her response. He was prepared for resistance, but the intensity in her eyes told him she wasn’t a typical prisoner. There was something in her that refused to be broken, and it piqued his interest.
“I think we need to test your limits,” he said, his voice softer now, almost with a trace of admiration. “We’ll see just how far you can go before you’re forced to yield.”
The door to her cell creaked shut behind him, but Sabrina didn’t move. She knew what was coming. But she also knew that every test, every push they gave her, was another opportunity for her to break free. The longer she remained captive, the more she learned about their weaknesses, the more her plan could take shape.
Another week later
Sabrina had spent the days since Ichiji’s last visit watching, waiting, biding her time. She knew the guards’ routines, the patterns of the Vinsmokes’ visits, and even the schedules of the servants who brought her food. She could feel the change in the air—a shift, like something big was about to happen.
Tonight would be her chance.
The Vinsmokes had become complacent, overconfident in their belief that they controlled her. They were wrong.
The cell door creaked open just as the guards entered to check on her. They didn’t seem particularly concerned, distracted by the usual monotony of their task. But Sabrina’s sharp eyes caught the moment the man closest to her turned his back for a split second. That was all she needed.
With the speed of a striking serpent, she lunged, her body moving like a coiled spring as she slammed into the guard, knocking him to the ground with a force that stunned the other. Before the second guard could react, Sabrina had already freed one of her wrists, pulling the chains apart with a strength that defied her restrained appearance. The chains clattered to the floor as she rose to her full height.
The guards scrambled to regain their composure, but Sabrina wasn’t waiting for them. She turned toward the door, her heart pounding in her chest as she sprinted for the exit. It was now or never.
She could hear footsteps behind her, the heavy sound of boots echoing through the hallway, but she didn’t falter. Every second she spent in this place had been a test, and now, it was time to show the Vinsmokes just how wrong they had been to underestimate her.
Sabrina’s pulse raced as she dashed through the winding corridors of the Vinsmoke compound. Her bare feet pounded the cold stone floor with every stride, the echo of her movements growing louder as the alarm began to sound. The guards’ shouts reverberated down the hallways, but Sabrina didn’t slow her pace. She had anticipated this—the moment the chains broke, the moment she would run. It was the only chance she’d ever get.
The narrow hallway ahead of her was dimly lit, but she could still see enough to navigate with precision. The metal doors lining the sides of the corridor were locked, but Sabrina didn’t waste time trying to pry them open. She knew where the exit was—the main door, the one that led out to the vast compound and ultimately to freedom.
A sharp breath escaped her lips, her muscles tense and ready for whatever came next. She had to move fast. The Vinsmokes wouldn’t be taken by surprise for long. Their advanced training would mean they would catch up to her soon.
But just as she neared the main entrance, a figure stepped into the hallway ahead of her.
Ichiji.
Sabrina’s breath caught in her chest for just a moment. He was standing there, perfectly composed, his arms folded across his chest. He was waiting for her.
For a split second, their eyes locked. Ichiji’s cold, calculating gaze met hers, but there was something more behind it—a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t surprised to see her, and he wasn’t angry. There was a hint of something else, something that felt almost like a challenge.
“So, you think you can escape?” Ichiji’s voice was low, but it carried with the authority he always exuded. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his eyes were sharp, assessing her every move.
Sabrina didn’t stop, but her heart beat faster. She wasn’t afraid of him. He may have had power, he may have been formidable, but she had fought worse. Much worse. She would not be his prisoner.
“I’ve been a prisoner for far too long,” she growled, the words muffled by the muzzle, but her tone was clear. She wasn’t asking for mercy. She wasn’t giving him any opportunity to talk her down. She was going to leave, no matter the cost.
Ichiji’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re an interesting one. I’ll give you that.”
He uncrossed his arms slowly, stepping forward just slightly, though still keeping a distance. “You’ve escaped, yes. But you won’t get far. The compound is locked down, and every guard in the vicinity will be alerted to your presence. You can’t outrun me.”
Sabrina’s eyes flared with determination. “You really think I’m running from you?”
Ichiji didn’t answer immediately, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on her—a moment of silent understanding. “No. You’re running from what you know will come next. The fact that you won’t stop proves you understand exactly what you’re up against.”
His voice dropped lower, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “I don’t know what it is about you. Why I’m... intrigued by you. But I’ll give you credit—you’re far more than I expected. You’re not just a prisoner, not just some plaything. You’re a challenge. And I don’t back down from challenges.”
Sabrina’s muscles tensed as he took another step closer. She could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the tension hanging between them like a blade poised to strike. He wasn’t just trying to capture her again. There was something deeper in his gaze. A desire for control. A desire to break her, yes, but also a strange, unspoken pull, something she hadn’t expected.
“Stay away from me,” she warned, her voice feral beneath the muzzle.
Ichiji didn’t flinch. His gaze darkened, but his expression remained unreadable, almost calculating. “I’m not going to chase you, Sabrina. But I will say this—there’s no escape. No matter where you go, you’re still part of this world. You’ll always be the Soul Reaper. And no one is going to forget that. Not even me.”
Sabrina felt a pang in her chest at the mention of her name—her true name, the one she had buried beneath layers of pain and regret for years. She wasn’t just Sabrina, not just the Soul Reaper. She was a survivor, a pirate, a woman who had lived through unspeakable horrors. But in that moment, she realized that Ichiji had seen through all her layers. He knew exactly who she was, and that made her more dangerous than anything else she had ever faced.
Her resolve didn’t waver. With a growl, she pivoted, her foot hitting the stone floor with a resounding crack as she launched herself into motion once more. She wasn’t running from him. She was running for her life.
Ichiji’s eyes followed her every movement, a faint glimmer of something unreadable flickering in his gaze. He didn’t move to stop her immediately. Instead, he let her go, watching as she sprinted down the hallway, her form slipping around a corner just out of his reach. For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, a small smile tugged at Ichiji’s lips.
“Don’t think this is over,” he muttered under his breath. His hand brushed against the smooth surface of the wall as he turned back toward the hallway, his mind already working, his thoughts racing ahead.
Sabrina’s escape had been short-lived. She had made it far, farther than she had expected, but the compound’s security was too tight, and she had been too reckless. Within hours of slipping away, the Vinsmokes had tracked her down, cornering her in the dead of night in a hidden chamber beneath the compound.
She had tried to fight, but the overwhelming numbers of guards and the brutal efficiency of the Vinsmokes’ tactics were too much for her to overcome. She had been captured once again.
This time, when she was thrown into a reinforced cell, her body was bruised, battered, but still, her eyes burned with defiance.
Ichiji appeared in front of her cell once again, his expression calm but with a hint of satisfaction in his demeanor. He studied her carefully, taking in the exhaustion in her eyes, the fire that wasn’t quite dead yet.
“You don’t learn, do you?” he said quietly, his voice smooth but with an edge. “You think you can keep escaping, that you can outrun everything. But you can’t.”
Sabrina, still struggling with the weight of her restraints, glared at him through the bars of the cell. “I’ll escape again,” she rasped, though her voice was low, her pride still intact. “You’ll never break me.”
Ichiji stared at her for a moment, his gaze shifting from her bruised face to the chains that held her. Then he spoke softly, his voice almost contemplative. “Maybe not. But you’ll have to realize something soon, Sabrina. You’re mine now. And the longer you fight it, the more... it will be more enjoyable when you finally give in.”
A week later
Sabrina had been left alone in the cell for the past two days. The silence was oppressive, but it gave her time to think, time to plan. Every interaction with Ichiji, every move she made, was part of a bigger picture. She was learning their routines. Learning the compound. She knew that eventually, they would let their guard down. And when they did, she would strike.
The door creaked open. Ichiji stepped in, his eyes immediately scanning the cell. He paused as he took in her battered form, but there was no pity in his gaze. No, it was something colder, something more calculated.
“You’re still alive,” he remarked flatly, his arms folded over his chest.
Sabrina didn’t respond, her eyes never leaving him. There was something about his presence that made her blood boil, a mix of frustration and a strange pull she refused to acknowledge.
“You can keep your silence,” Ichiji continued, his tone now tinged with something almost... respectful. “But you can’t keep running. You think you’re some sort of ghost, that you can slip away unnoticed. But you’re not. You’re mine now.”
Her hands clenched at her sides, the chains rattling. “I’m no one’s,” she growled, her voice strained beneath the muzzle.
Ichiji’s lips curved ever so slightly into a smirk. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer, but he was still careful, calculating. “You’ll change your tune. I promise you that.”
Ichiji stared at her, his gaze flickering for just a second, his words lingering in the air. “We’ll see.” Before grabbing Sabrina’s wrist.
Sabrina struggled against Ichiji’s grip, but there was no use. He held her firmly, yet there was something different now. It wasn’t the same cold, calculating grip he had when he first captured her. It wasn’t possessive—it was almost... curious. His eyes lingered on her, as though trying to understand her beyond the walls she had built up.
For a long moment, they both stood there, the tension crackling between them. Sabrina’s chest heaved with her efforts to break free, but she was starting to recognize that she couldn’t outfight him. Not like this. Not with the guards surrounding them, not with the knowledge that he was always a step ahead.
“You’re relentless,” Ichiji finally said, his voice low, almost admiring. “I’ve seen many fighters. But none quite like you. Not like this.”
Sabrina narrowed her eyes at him, her heart still racing. “So, what? You think that makes me some kind of prize?”
Ichiji’s grip on her wrist loosened, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. “No. But it makes you interesting. You don’t break, do you? No matter what I do, no matter how many times you fall, you get back up.”
She could feel her anger simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else there too. A strange acknowledgment that he wasn’t entirely wrong. She did keep getting back up. And that, more than anything, was what kept her fighting. It was why she had survived this long.
“You know,” she said, her voice steady, “You’re not so different from me. You keep pushing, trying to control everything around you, but in the end, you're just as trapped as I am. The only difference is, you think you have a choice.”
I've had enough of your mouth," he growled, his voice a harsh whisper in the quiet of the night.
Her heart raced as she stared back at him, her body tensing for the inevitable. But she wasn't about to let him have it all his way. Not without a fight.
He stepped even closer, and she could feel the heat of his anger and desire, a potent mix that made her skin crawl. And yet, there was something in his gaze that spoke of something more than just lust. Something...challenging.
"You think you can handle me?" she taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of her full, pink lips.
"I know I can," he replied, his voice a dark promise.
With a sudden burst of speed, Sabrina launched herself at him. He stumbled back, surprised by her strength, but quickly regained his footing. He once again grabbed both wrists, twisting them behind her back, and slammed her against the cold, stone wall of the cell. The impact made her gasp, her breasts pressing against the wall as she struggled to free herself from his iron grip.
His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered, "Is this what you want?" His grip tightened, and she could feel his arousal pressing into her.
She refused to answer,her eyes gleaming with spite.
He chuckled darkly and shoved her legs spreading involuntarily to accommodate his powerful frame. The wall was unforgiving under her, but she bit back any sound of pain. Instead, she used it to fuel her hatred, her need to dominate him in this twisted dance.
He tore at her clothes, the fabric ripping like paper under his strong hands. Her pierced nipples stood erect, the sensation of the cool air on her exposed flesh sending a jolt of desire through her body. She hated that he could do this to her, that she could feel anything but anger in his presence.
But as his rough, calloused hands touched her skin, she found herself responding. Her body was a traitor, craving the touch of the enemy. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a brutal kiss, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth, mimicking the way he intended to claim her body.
Sabrina kissed him back with equal fervor, her split tongue dancing around his, the metal of her piercings clicking against his teeth. She could taste his hunger, his need to conquer her, and she reveled in it. This was her chance to show him that she wouldn't be so easily broken.
Turning around, her hands found the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. His muscles rippled in the moonlight, the scars on his back a silent testament to his own battles. For a brief moment, she felt a flicker of something other than anger. But she quickly squashed it, focusing instead on the battle of wills playing out between their bodies.
He grabbed her by the throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes water. "You're mine," he hissed, his eyes burning into hers.
"Never," she choked out, her voice hoarse with passion and defiance.
Their bodies moved together in a violent symphony, each thrust a declaration of war, each kiss a silent challenge. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the cell, mingling with their harsh breaths and guttural moans.
Sabrina's nails raked down his back, leaving trails of red in their wake. He grunted but didn't relent, pushing her harder into the wall with each movement. Her C-cup breasts bounced with the impact, the pain from her piercings adding an unexpected edge to her pleasure.
This was not love, but a battle of dominance, a clash of two strong wills. And as their bodies collided in a frenzy of hate and lust, she knew she would not be the one to submit.
Ichiji's cock pounded into her, each stroke punctuating the air with a wet slap that echoed in the small space. Her pussy was tight around him, resisting his invasive force, yet clenching with every thrust as if trying to devour him whole. His grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her air supply, but she met his dominance with a fierce snarl.
Her long, black hair was a wild mess around them, a dark cloud that seemed to absorb the light as they fucked. Her pale skin was flushed with passion, the stark contrast with the deep red lines from his grip making her look almost otherworldly.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to go deeper. Her heels dug into his back, her nails scraping against his flesh as she used her body to fight him, to control him. And yet, she could feel herself losing control, her orgasm building like a storm in her core, threatening to break free.
He bit down on her lower lip, drawing blood, the metallic taste mingling with their saliva. She felt the sting, but it only spurred her on, her hips bucking wildly against his. She could feel her pussy clenching around him, her muscles tightening as she approached climax.
Their eyes never left each other's, a silent war raging within them. Each thrust was a declaration of power, a refusal to yield. Sabrina's hands found his hair, pulling hard, making him groan with pain and pleasure.
Her walls began to quiver, her orgasm building like a crescendo. But she wouldn't let him be the one to bring her to the edge. Instead, she reached between them, her long fingers finding her own clit, and began to rub it fiercely. The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his roughness and her own determination driving her higher.
And then it hit her, a wave of pleasure so intense it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck her. She threw her head back, screaming his name in a mix of anger and ecstasy. Her pussy spasmed around him, clenching down like a vice, and she felt him tense, his grip on her throat loosening slightly as he too succumbed to the power of their shared climax.
Their bodies stilled, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath of their battle. For a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world, connected by a thin thread of shared passion.
But then, the reality of their situation crashed down upon them like a cold shower. They were not lovers, but captor and captive. And as the hatred in their eyes rekindled, they knew that the war was far from over.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said, her voice quieter. “I won’t break, and you won’t control me either.”
Ichiji didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a slow step back, his posture straightening as he studied her. “I don’t want to control you. I don’t want to own you. I never did.”
Sabrina didn’t know how to react to that. The words hung in the air, shifting the dynamic in ways she didn’t fully understand. Her eyes narrowed, her distrust still present, but there was something else. Something she hadn’t anticipated.
“You want... respect, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ichiji nodded once, his expression serious. “Yes. You’re a pirate, a survivor. I’ve fought people like you before, but never one quite like you. That’s why I keep coming back. That’s why I’m not willing to just throw you away.”
Sabrina’s heart raced as she looked him over. There was no mocking in his tone, no sense of superiority. There was something real in his words. “And what about you?” she asked. “What do you want? Power? Control? Or something more?”
Ichiji’s eyes hardened again, but this time it was a different kind of hardness. It was the kind that spoke of years of pressure, of responsibilities that couldn’t be avoided. He looked at her for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he was speaking to himself.
“I want to be stronger. I want to be the one who chooses his future, not the one who’s shaped by the past. And right now, Sabrina, you’re the one who could help me do that.”
Sabrina stared at him. His words were honest, not the usual arrogance or disdain she had expected from someone like him. It was unsettling. It made her question what she knew about him. And yet, despite the tension, despite the conflict that remained, there was an understanding now—a mutual respect, born of battle and survival.
The words hung between them. They weren’t allies. Not yet. But there was something there—something unspoken, a fragile thread that could either snap or strengthen as time went on.
Time continued to pass in a strange silence. Sabrina locked in her cell, but now each time Ichiji visited, there was something different. The sharp tension that had once been there, that instant hostility when they looked at each other, had dulled into something more complex. Respect, yes. But there was also a growing understanding that neither of them could quite explain.
Ichiji’s visits became less about asserting control and more about something else—something he wasn’t fully ready to admit. At times, he’d bring her food or a change of clothes, and they would exchange no words at all. Just a glance, maybe. A brief acknowledgment of the unspoken that occured between them. It wasn’t trust, not yet, but it was something close to it.
One evening, after a particularly long silence, Ichiji leaned against the bars of her cell, watching her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. His gaze wasn’t cold anymore, but neither was it soft. It was just... observant. Calculating.
“Why do you keep fighting?” he asked, the question catching her off guard. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a demand for an answer. It was simply a question, as if he was truly curious.
Sabrina, her hands still bound by the chains, looked at him with a steady gaze. She had grown used to these questions, to his quiet observations, but she still couldn’t decide how to respond.
“Because I have to,” she said simply. “Because if I stop, I’m dead. I don’t have any other choice.”
Ichiji’s expression softened just slightly. It was fleeting, but it was there. He nodded as if he understood, though he didn’t say anything. For a brief moment, Sabrina felt like she saw something of herself in him. The weight of expectations, the unrelenting drive to survive, the burning need to prove they could stand on their own no matter the odds. They weren’t so different after all.
Ichiji would speak to her as if they were equals, sharing information or discussing strategy—though always keeping her at arm’s length, of course. Yet there was an underlying current, a tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge outright. Something unspoken.
Sabrina had caught herself, on more than one occasion, wondering what it would be like if they were on opposite sides. What if they weren’t enemies, but allies? The thought gnawed at her, despite her instincts screaming that it was a dangerous game to entertain.
One evening, Ichiji entered the room without the usual retinue of guards, his posture more relaxed than it had been. There was an unfamiliar tension in the air. He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he simply studied her, his gaze lingering in a way that made Sabrina uneasy.
“What do you want from me, Ichiji?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. She wasn’t sure what prompted the question, but it felt like something she needed to ask.
He looked at her for a long time, as if weighing the answer. “I want to understand you,” he said finally. “You’re... different. The others are easy to read. You’re not. And that makes me curious.”
Sabrina blinked, unsure of what to make of the statement. “Curious?”
“About your strength,” he continued, stepping closer to the bars, his voice quiet but firm. “About your resolve. About why someone like you would keep fighting in a world that’s already decided your fate.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned away, focusing on the dim light filtering through the narrow window of her cell. There was a shift in the air, a subtle understanding passing between them—one that neither was ready to confront fully, but it was there.
Ichiji had stopped trying to break her. She had stopped trying to escape, at least for now. They were two forces, opposites in so many ways, yet they understood each other in a way neither of them had expected.
It was a delicate balance. Neither of them was ready to cross certain lines again. And yet, it was clear that the dynamic between them had changed. Respect had transformed into something more complicated. Something that neither of them fully understood, but neither of them was willing to push away either.
Days turned into weeks, and the dynamic between Sabrina and Ichiji continued to evolve. What had started as hostility had transformed into something more complicated—respect, curiosity, and something else that neither of them would define. She had found something in Ichiji that intrigued her—a challenge she hadn’t anticipated. A strength that matched her own. And, perhaps, there was a flicker of something more beneath it all. But she wouldn’t admit it, not even to herself.
Ichiji, too, had begun to change. He had stopped seeing her as a pawn in his game and started to see her as a person—someone who, despite being in chains, had a fire that could rival anything he’d ever known.
One evening, after an unusually long silence between them, Ichiji stood in front of her cell, his gaze unreadable. The usual guards were gone, leaving just the two of them in the dim light of the hallway.
"You could leave," Ichiji said, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure why he was offering it. "If you wanted to. No one would stop you."
Sabrina tilted her head, regarding him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "Why?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why would you give me the option? You’ve had me locked up for weeks now."
Ichiji’s gaze softened just slightly, his fingers tapping against the bars of her cell. "Because I think you’ve earned it. I’ve never met anyone like you before. You’ve pushed me in ways I didn’t expect. Maybe I respect that more than I should."
Sabrina's breath caught for a moment. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She hadn’t expected anything like this from someone like him. It was a rare vulnerability, one that both unsettled and intrigued her.
"And if I leave?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual. "What happens then?"
Ichiji stepped closer to the bars, his voice steady. "I don't know. Maybe you walk away. Maybe you stay. Either way, you’re free to make your choice. But I won’t stop you."
For a long moment, there was only silence. Sabrina stared at him, searching his face for any trace of deception, but there was none. She could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. To leave would be to reclaim her freedom, to run again, to fight the world in her own way. But to stay? That would mean something entirely different.
"You’re letting me go?" Sabrina asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Ichiji nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just curious to see what you do next."
Sabrina’s heart raced in her chest as she processed his words. She wasn’t sure what had shifted between them, but something had. She wasn’t the same person she had been when she first arrived here, and neither was he. They had both changed in ways that neither could predict.
"I don’t need your pity," she finally said, her voice firm, though there was something softer in her tone now.
Ichiji’s lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I never said it was pity."
Sabrina took a step back, her gaze never leaving his. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. The choice was hers now.
For a moment, she thought about her sister, the pain of the past, the chains that had once bound her—not just physically, but emotionally. She had lived for so long as a ghost, constantly running, never allowing anyone to get close. But now, there was something here. Something complicated. Something she couldn’t quite let go of.
"Maybe I’ll stay," she said softly, though the words surprised even her. She wasn’t sure if it was out of curiosity, or because she’d finally found something worth fighting for again—someone who challenged her in ways she hadn’t expected.
Ichiji didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he nodded once, as though acknowledging the unspoken understanding between them.
The moment lingered, fragile and uncertain, before he turned to leave, his voice quiet but steady.
"Then we’ll see where this goes, won’t we?"
Sabrina watched him go, feeling something stir in her chest. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what this connection meant, or if it was even possible to define it. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so alone. The game had changed, and she didn’t have all the answers.
But she wasn’t running anymore.
The future was uncertain, but Sabrina was ready to face whatever came next—whether that meant breaking free, or something else entirely.
summary: Y/N made a grave mistake when meeting Shanks. She caught his interest.
A/N: Summaries are hard. Hopefully the story is better lol.
pairing: Shanks X Female!Reader
wc: 5301
C/W: dubcon(?) just to be safe. kidnapping towards then end. slight overstimulation.
"Look lively, my sons!" bellowed the ship's captain. The crew of the Moby scurried about the deck, securing ropes and swabbing the planks. Whitebeard had a gentle but firm voice that could be heard over the crash of waves. His eyes twinkled with the excitement of a pirate's life, and his laugh lines deepened as he surveyed his men.
"Is that Akagami's ship?" one of the crew members shouted, pointing to the speck of red growing larger with each passing moment. The air was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Shanks was a legend among legends, and his visits were never without incident.
"Aye, it is!" confirmed Whitebeard, squinting into the distance. His daughter, Y/N, emerged from the cabin, her curiosity piqued. She was a young woman with a spirit that matched her father's. "It's been too long since we had good company," he said, ruffling her hair.
"Father, what's so special about Shanks?" she asked, watching the ship draw closer. The name alone was enough to make the most hardened pirates whisper in awe.
Whitebeard turned to her, his gaze softening. "Shanks is a good man, he’s also a friend of sorts, as well as a powerful man." he said, his voice filled with a hint of pain and nostalgia. "But remember, he's got a peculiar sense of humor. Don't take anything he says to heart."
The ships docked with a thud that echoed through the Moby's wooden hull. Shanks' crew, a motley bunch of men, swaggered onto the deck, their captain at the forefront. Shanks was a tall man, with a mischievous glint in his eye and three scars that slashed across his eye.
"Whitebeard, my old friend!" he called out, a wide grin splitting his face. The two men embraced, their laughter booming through the salty air. The crew of the Moby watched as the two pirate lords exchanged greetings like old comrades.
Y/N, feeling a bit shy, hovered at the edge of the group, taking in the scene. That's when she felt it - a pair of eyes on her, assessing her from head to toe. She looked up and met Shanks' gaze. His smile didn't falter, but his eyes held a darker, more intense look than she was expecting. It sent a shiver down her spine.
"And who is this beauty?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving hers. The question hung in the air, and she felt the weight of his stare.
Whitebeard beamed with pride. "This is my daughter, Y/N."
The crew grew silent. The air grew thicker, charged with an energy she couldn't quite put her finger on. Shanks stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks. He extended a hand to her, and she took it, feeling the rough calluses of a seasoned pirate.
"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said, his grip firm. There was something about the way he said her name, something that made her feel both thrilled and uneasy. As he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, he whispered, "We're going to have some fun together, you and I."
The crew erupted into laughter, slapping each other's backs and shouting toasts. But Y/N felt the seriousness behind his words. It was as if he had made a silent promise, or perhaps a veiled threat. She couldn't tell which.
The evening grew dark, and the stars twinkled above like scattered jewels on a velvet cloak. The two crews drank and sang, sharing tales of adventure and treasure. Yet, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that this night was the start of something she didn't quite understand. Shanks remained by her side, his presence both comforting and unsettling.
As the party began to wind down, and the crew members stumbled back to their quarters, Y/N made her way to her cabin, her thoughts racing. She was tired, but the anticipation of the night's events kept her from finding peace. Shanks, ever the gentleman, insisted on seeing Y/N to her door. His boisterous laughter grew quieter as they descended the stairs, the shadows stretching out before them like the arms of the sea at night.
The corridor grew still, the only sound the distant echo of the ocean's lullaby. Y/N turned the knob and pushed the door open, the candlelight inside casting a warm glow onto the wooden floor. She stepped in, expecting Shanks to bid her goodnight, but instead, he followed her, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt a flutter of panic, but she stood her ground, refusing to show fear.
"I've been watching you all night," he said, his tone hushed. "There's something about you, something... intriguing." He stepped closer, the scent of rum and saltwater clinging to his clothes. Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, unsure of what was happening. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I intend to find out."
Before she could respond, Shanks reached out and touched her cheek gently, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The gesture was so tender it sent a shiver through her body. She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of his intentions, but all she found was an enigmatic smile. He leaned in, his breath warm and sweet with the scent of the fine wine they'd shared earlier. His lips brushed against hers in a kiss that was as soft as a whisper, yet it seemed to echo through the very core of her being.
The kiss was unexpected, but Y/N didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself leaning into it, feeling the promise of something powerful stirring within her. As they parted, she realized that she had been holding her breath. Shanks' gaze remained locked on hers, and she felt a strange warmth spread through her, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. The moment hung between them, and for a second, Y/N's mind went blank.
Emboldened by the kiss and the emotions it stirred, Shanks decided to push the boundaries further. His hand reached for her waist, pulling her into his muscular embrace. His touch was firm, yet not forceful. It was as if he was testing the waters, gauging her reaction. The air grew thick with tension, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.
Shanks released a low growl, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. He no longer bothered with pleasantries or sweet talk; there was no more need for such trivialities between them. Y/N's breath hitched as she felt his arousal pressing against her stomach. His grip tightened, a silent demand for her submission, and she felt herself melt into his touch, her body craving him.
He spun her around, her back pressing against the cold, hard wood of the cabin wall. His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss, his teeth biting into her lower lip just hard enough to draw a gasp. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. He kissed and licked along her throat, leaving a trail of heat that made her shiver with need. His hand leaving her hair and roaming down her body, cupping her ass and squeezing roughly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.
"Pops won't be happy if he sees us like this," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle rocking of the ship.
Shanks chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to resonate in her very bones. "Let's not worry about that just yet," he said, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned in again, his lips finding hers again demanding, full of passion and a hint of something darker.
Y/N's resolve wavered. She knew she should push him away, but instead, she found herself responding, her own hands moving up to tangle in his hair. The kiss grew deeper, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. She could feel the heat of his desire, and it ignited something within her that she had never felt before. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
Finally, she managed to break away, gasping for air. "We can't," she said, her voice trembling. "This isn't right."
Shanks leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why not?" he asked, his hand still resting on her bare waist. "You're a pirate. Surely, you know that life at sea is about seizing moments of pleasure when they come."
Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Because... because my dad—."
He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Whitebeard and I are more than just friendly, Y/N. We share something deeper, more akin to brothers. Plus.." His hand slid up her side, and she felt his thumb trace the edge of her bra strap. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to know you better."
His words were like a siren's song, tempting and dangerous. She knew she should resist, but the desire within her was growing too strong. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she had made up her mind.
"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you promise to keep this between us."
Shanks' smile grew sharper, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. "I can do that," he murmured, deftly unbuttoning her dress. It slid to the floor, and she stepped out of it, feeling the cool air of the cabin kiss her skin.
Without warning, he hoisted her onto the bed, the mattress groaned under their combined weight, the springs protesting as he began to grind his hips into her. The friction between their bodies sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned into his mouth. His hand traveled up to her chest, squeezing her breast until she whimpered. His thumb flicked over her hardened nipple, sending an electric shock straight to her core.
Shanks' hand then slid down to the apex of her thighs, pushing aside the damp fabric that barely contained her arousal. He groaned into her ear, feeling how wet she was for him. His fingers teased her clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles that had her writhing beneath him. Y/N's nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him closer, needing more, always more. He chuckled darkly, enjoying the way she squirmed in his grasp. He knew he had her right where he wanted her; desperate and begging for release.
The moment his finger slid inside her, she threw her head back, arching off the bed. He pumped in and out, adding another digit, stretching her until she was ready for what was to come. Her pussy clenched around his digits, her inner walls quivering with anticipation. The room was filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing and the slick noises of his hand moving within her. He could feel her muscles tightening, her orgasm building like a storm about to break.
Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and excitement. She had never been with a man before, and she had always thought it would be with someone she knew, someone she trusted. But here she was, in the grasp of the notorious Shanks, a stranger she's only vaguely heard about, feeling a passion that she had only ever dreamed of.
Y/N tried to keep up, her own desires spiraling out of control. But she could feel the shift in him, the way his kisses turned from tender to bruising, his hand moving from exploratory to possessive. A part of her wanted to stop, to demand gentleness, but the thrill of the forbidden and the power she felt in his embrace kept her from speaking. Suddenly, she was aware of his weight pressing down on her, his body a wall of heat and strength that made her feel both protected and trapped.
Shanks wasn't done with her yet. He withdrew his hand, leaving her panting and needy. He undid his pants with a swift movement, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, a testament to his desire. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing for a moment to enjoy the view of her flushed skin and glazed eyes. Shanks didn't waste any time, pushing aside the last barrier of her innocence with a grunt of pleasure. The pain was sharp, but it was quickly overridden by the sheer force of his desire. He set a brutal pace, his hips slapping against hers with a rhythm that was as relentless as the waves outside. The sounds of their union filled the cabin, a symphony of flesh and passion that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the ship.
Y/N's eyes widened as she felt herself stretched to the limits, her body struggling to keep up with his. Yet, with each thrust, she felt a strange, primal satisfaction blooming within her. It was as if she had been waiting for this all her life, waiting to be claimed by a man who could match her in strength and spirit.
Y/N's scream of pleasure was muffled by the pillow she'd buried her face in, her body shuddering around him. Shanks's hips continued to slam into her, the bed frame rattling with the force of his movements. Each thrust hit her G-spot with unerring precision, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. Her walls clamped down around him, trying to keep him inside her as he withdrew, only to be filled again and again. She could feel herself climbing towards climax, the pressure building with each violent collision of their bodies.
His one good hand continued to maul her breast, pinching and pulling at her nipple until she thought she might go mad with need. The hand that had been in her hair now held her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust, the scars around his eye standing out starkly against his flushed skin.
"You're mine," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "You'll always be mine."
Her breathing grew ragged as she felt his urgency, his need to claim her. His kisses turned almost violent, as if he was afraid she would slip away. It was overwhelming, and she clung to him, as she tried to find an anchor in the storm of sensations.
Her cries grew louder, mingling with the grunts of his exertion. The cabin walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with the scent of lust and the salt of the sea. She could feel the tension building, a coil of heat and need that was threatening to consume her.
The possessiveness in his words sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, making her entire body convulse. She screamed his name, her nails raking down his back, drawing blood. He didn't flinch, just grinned, his eyes alight with triumph. He knew she was his, body and soul.
And as he continued to pound into her, her body still spasming around his cock, she couldn't help but admit that she liked it. Liked being claimed so fiercely, so completely, by this man who could take everything from her and give her the world in return. The world of pleasure and pain, of love and obsession, of being his in every conceivable way.
Shanks growled, his movements becoming even more frantic. He was close, she could feel it. The warmth of his breath against her ear was the only sound she could discern amidst the cacophony of their passion.
And then, with a final roar, he reached his peak, filling her to the brim with his seed. Y/N's eyes widened as she felt the warmth spreading inside her, the reality of what had just transpired crashing down like a tempest. She had given herself to this man, this enigma of power and darkness, and she wasn't sure if she would ever be the same.
Shanks' weight remained on her for a moment, his breathing heavy and ragged, as if he had fought a fierce battle and emerged the victor, but his desire for her was a never-ending maelstrom that she was all too eager to drown in. He flipped her onto her stomach, her cheek pressed into the pillow, her ass in the air. His hand slapped down on her flesh, leaving a red imprint that only added to the heat building between her legs. He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her entrance. With a savage grunt, he thrust into her again, filling her completely.
The angle was different this time, deeper, hitting places inside her that had never been touched before. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he began to move, his strokes long and slow, almost tender despite his feral hunger. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, his fingers working it in time with his hips. She was so sensitive now, so close to the edge, that it only took a few moments before she was climaxing once more, her body shaking with the intensity of it.
As he came, he pulled out and immediately slammed back in, pushing his cum back into her with a brutal force that made her whine. His hand was a vice around her neck now, holding her down as he continued to fuck her through his orgasm. He didn't care if it was painful; all he knew was that he needed to be as deep inside her as possible, needed to fill her up with his seed. It was a declaration of ownership, a promise of what was to come.
He didn't stop, though. If anything, his movements grew more frenzied, more possessive. He was breeding her, marking her in the most primal way possible. His cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his seed, claiming her womb. He groaned with the effort, his grip on her tight enough to leave bruises. Y/N could feel every inch of him, making her his in every way that mattered.
When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. His chest heaved with exertion, his breath hot against her neck. For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean outside and their mingled gasps. Then, slowly, he began to move again, his cock still half-hard, still buried within her. He was not content, not yet satisfied until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.
His hips rolled in a gentle, almost loving motion, his hand stroking her back in a soothing pattern that belied the aggression of their earlier coupling. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat of their passion. It was a strange kind of contentment, one she hadn't felt in a long time. Despite the dubious circumstances of their relationship, she knew that she craved this, craved him.
With a final, deep thrust, Shanks withdrew from her, his cock slick with their combined juices. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she straddled his waist.. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
The silence was deafening, the only sound was the soft lapping of the sea against the ship's hull.
Giving her a moment to catch her breath, he watched her, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. The intensity in his gaze made her feel as though she was a treasure he had just plundered, a prize to be savored and claimed again. Then, with a sudden, surprising gentleness, he reached out and traced the curve of her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured.
Y/N swallowed hard, trying to find the words to express the tumult of emotions that were storming through her. Before she could speak, however, Shanks positioned himself at her entrance, and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her, still sensitive and swollen from their first coupling.
With a smirk that was both playful and predatory, he grabbed her again and thrust upwards, filling her once more. She gasped, her eyes flying open wide in shock and pleasure. She began to rock her hips, setting a slow pace that had them both groaning in ecstasy. His fingers gripped her waist, guiding her movements, urging her to go faster, harder. The cabin spun around her as she gave herself over to the feeling of him inside her, his cock hitting all the right spots, over and over again.
Her breasts bounced with each movement, the pain from his earlier mauling a sweet reminder of his possession. She leaned forward and took his mouth in another hungry kiss. Their tongues danced together, a false battle for dominance that mirrored their physical union. She could feel his pulse beneath her, the beat of his heart matching the tempo of their lovemaking.
Shanks's hand found her breasts again, kneading and squeezing them as she rode him. His thumb brushing over her sensitive nipples, sending sparks of pleasure to her clit. She moaned into his mouth, her walls tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers, his own need for release growing more urgent.
Their rhythm grew faster, more erratic, as they approached their peak. Y/N's nails dug into his chest, leaving behind hints of pain that only seemed to fuel his desire. She threw her head back, her eyes rolling back in her head as another orgasm began to build. Shanks watched her face, his own twisted with pleasure, his grip on her hips tightening as he felt his own climax approaching.
With a final, powerful thrust, she ground herself against him, her muscles spasming around his cock as she reached her peak. Shanks roared his release, his hips jerking up to meet hers, his cum flooding her once more. They remained like that for a moment, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.
But Shanks wasn't one to rest for long. He flipped her onto her back, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to kiss down her body. His mouth found her breasts, sucking and biting, his tongue swirling around her nipples. His hand traveled between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wetness and back into her. She gasped, her body already on edge from the last orgasm.
"I said all night," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And we've only just begun."
Y/N knew she was in for a long night of pleasure and pain. She could feel the exhaustion tugging at her, but the desire that burned in her was stronger. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him back inside her, eager for more. He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin, and gave her what she wanted. His cock slammed into her again, hard and fast, setting a pace that she knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with for long.
Shanks' fingers dug into her flesh, guiding her as he plunged into her time and again. Her orgasms came in waves, each one more powerful than the last, her cries echoing through the cabin. He watched her face, his own a mask of concentration and desire, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he was searching for something within the depths of her soul.
Hour after hour, he took her, switching positions with an ease that spoke of long practice. He was relentless, driving her to climax after climax until she could hardly move, until she was nothing but a quivering mess of pleasure and pain. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to her face.
He fucked her like a toy, a possession to be used and enjoyed at his leisure.Yet, she never once asked him to stop. She reveled in the feeling of being used, of being his. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her walls fluttering. It was messy, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, the bed soaked beneath them. She never felt more alive, it was like she was the center of his world, the focus of his insatiable hunger.
Shanks's touch grew rougher as the night wore on, his kisses bruising, his grip on her body punishing. He took her in every way he could think of, pushing her limits until she thought she would break. Yet, she didn't. Each time she thought she couldn't handle any more, she found a deeper well of strength within herself, a need to satisfy him that overrode any discomfort or weariness.
The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking: the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of their union, the guttural noises of their pleasure. Y/N's cries grew louder, more desperate, as Shanks pounded into her. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and primal in his need for release. And she was more than willing to be swept away by the storm.
He whispered dark, possessive things in her ear, his breath hot and ragged. He told her she belonged to him, that she would always come back for more, that she craved this just as much as he did. And as much as she tried to deny it, she knew he was right. Her body responded to him like nothing else ever had, her orgasms more intense, more all-consuming than any she had experienced before. There would be no escape from his obsession, no refuge from the storm of passion that was Shanks.
Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, as if they had been lovers for a hundred lifetimes, and yet this was the first night they had ever shared. It was a dance of dominance and submission, of passion and power, and she found herself lost in it, unable to do anything but give herself over to the storm that raged between them.
As the night slowly crept day, their rhythm grew more frenzied, their cries melding with the cries of the gulls outside. She felt as if she was being torn apart, only to be reborn in the cradle of his arms, a creature of the sea, forever bound to this man of darkness and fire.
Shanks' grip on her hips tightened as he claimed his own release shuddering through his body.
As dawn began to break, painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Shanks rolled her onto her side, his cock still buried deep within her. His hand found her clit, his thumb stroking it with a finesse that belied the brutal passion of the night. He whispered sweet nothings, his voice a soothing balm to her overstimulated senses.
Y/N's eyes grew heavy, her body begging for rest. But she knew it wouldn't come just yet. His obsession with her was a never-ending cycle of desire and fulfillment. As she felt herself drifting off, she was already anticipating the next round, the next time he would take her, claim her, use her. It was a small price to pay for the exhilarating experience she had just shared with the legendary pirate
Reality started to set in. Y/N felt a cold dread coil in her stomach. She had given herself to Shanks, an act that would have repercussions she could not begin to fathom. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he held her against him. His chest was a wall of heat, his breaths coming in ragged gasps against her neck. Her body was sore.. Carefully, she tried to disentangle herself, but he held fast, his grip unyielding.
"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. She stiffened, not daring to look back at him. "Our time is far from over," he added with a chuckle, his hand sliding down to cup her breast.
Panic set in as she realized she couldn't escape. Not now, not like this. Her father's cabin was just a few doors down, but she knew that calling for help was out of the question. Shanks was too powerful, too dangerous. If Whitebeard found out about their tryst, it could mean war between the two pirate crews.
So, when he finally dragged her to his feet and led her, still naked, to the upper deck, she didn't protest. The crew of the Moby went about their morning routines, not sparing them a second glance. It was as if they had known this would happen all along, as if her fate had been sealed the moment Shanks had stepped aboard.
The air was crisp and salty, the sea breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden light. It was a beautiful sight, but one she couldn't appreciate. Not when she was being led like a lamb to slaughter.
Whitebeard was at the railing, his back to them. He didn't turn as they approached, didn't acknowledge them in any way. Y/N felt herself shiver, it was as though this was the only outcome, as if it was always going to end this way.
Shanks' grip on her arm was firm, almost painful, but she kept her head held high, refusing to let the fear show on her face. The silence was deafening as Shanks' ship, the Red Force, loomed into view, its sails fluttering like a crimson flag of conquest. The crew of the Moby had already lowered the ropes, Shanks stepped onto the plank first, pulling her along with him. The wood groaned under their combined weight, the plank swaying precariously over the churning sea below.
Y/N's heart was in her throat as she looked back at her father's ship, the only home she had ever known. The men she had grown up with, the men she called her brothers, were watching her leave with the enemy. Yet, none of them made a move to stop it.
The plank hit the deck of the Red Haired with a thud, and she stumbled, almost falling. Shanks caught her, his laughter echoing in the early morning air. "Steady, love," he said, his tone mocking. "You're going to have to get your sea legs if you're going to keep up with me."
The Red-Haired Pirates watched with amusement, their eyes glinting with a mix of lust and cruelty. She knew she was in for a rough ride with these men, but she also knew she had no choice. As Shanks led her to his quarters, she steeled herself for what was to come.
The cabin was opulent, a stark contrast to the spartan rooms of the Moby. Plush fabrics and gold trim adorned everything, from the velvet curtains to the intricately carved desk. It was a den of excess, a reflection of the man who owned it.
Shanks released her arm and she stumbled forward, her legs still unsteady. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move with a predatory gaze. "Welcome to your new home," he said, his smile wicked.
Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes taking in every detail of the room. There was no going back now. She was Shanks' prize, his plaything. The daughter of Whitebeard, claimed by the very man who might one day seek to usurp her father's throne. And she had willingly let it happen.
The door slammed shut behind them, and she knew she was truly in his clutches.
A/N; I had to rewrite the last part because I decided instead of stressing myself out and doing too much, I'd just make them into different stories.
Pairing: None in this one. overall Ace x Fem!Reader
Y/N sat at the back of a small, dimly lit tavern, hunched over a tattered map of the island. Her eyes flickering over the details, tracing the path she'd planned to take into the jungles, trying to pinpoint where the stupidly rare bug might be. She had always been good at tracking, but this was proving to be more difficult than she thought it’d be. The island’s dense foliage was notorious for hiding even the most obvious of things, and she couldn’t afford to miss her chance to find Luffy the perfect gift for his 16th birthday, not when it meant him one year closer to setting sail.
The sound of clinking mugs and laughter from the nearby patrons faded into the background as Y/N’s mind sharpened to the task at hand. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the jungle’s borders on the map when a loud, drunken laugh reached her ears.
She glanced up briefly, her sharp senses picking up on the low rumble of a conversation. It was coming from a corner booth, two men seated there, pirates who’d been on the seas too long. Marco and Izo, two of Whitebeard’s commanders. Y/N almost couldn’t believe it, she didn’t realize Whitebeard was even around.
They spoke in hushed tones, but Y/N's hearing was better than most. “The Venomveil Jungle, huh?” Izo, his voice gravelly. “I’ve heard the stories. Big beasts, strange plants and that’s not even getting into the bugs.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, that’s exactly where she had planned on searching for the wretched thing.
“You really think we’ll find anything useful there?” Marco asked, his voice lighter but tinged with excitement. “Restocking, maybe a few supplies, but I’ve heard the place is cursed. People go in and never come back.”
“Aye, and others come back with treasures,” Izo grinned. “If the stories are true, there’s more to this place than just danger.”
“You think it’s worth the risk?”
Izo laughed, clearly confident. “If we can handle the seas, we can handle whatever’s in that jungle. I say we take the trip, restock, maybe see if the jungle’s reputation is true.”
Y/N loves when things go her way. It rarely happens, but when they do, she can’t help but savor it and ensure she gets thrice the satisfaction out of it. Two for the price of one, who would’ve thought?
It was quiet in the early morning light, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. A few members of the Whitebeard crew were already stirring, stretching out sore muscles and preparing for the day ahead. Marco was perched on a fallen log near the embers of last night’s fire, lazily drinking from a flask, while Thatch grumbled about his missing food.
Izo, however, was more distracted than usual. He hadn’t slept well. Y/N lingered in his thoughts. The way she moved, how she looked at him and, yet she seemed so unbothered by their presence. It nagged at something deep in his memory. He had told himself last night that it was just a coincidence, that his mind was playing tricks on him. That didn’t explain why he had dreamt of a small child with bright eyes and laughter like the wind.
A rustling from the jungle caught their attention. Izo’s hand twitched toward his gun, but Marco raised a brow, already guessing who it was. A single flower petal drifted onto the fire pit. Thatch let out an exaggerated groan. “Oh, come on! She’s taunting me at this point.”
Marco smirked. “Seems like she’s still having fun with us yoi.”
Izo’s fingers curled around the petal, studying it with a distant expression. His chest tightened.
“Should we go after her?” one of the crew asked.
Thatch huffed, crossing his arms. “Oh, I would love to, but she’s too damn sneaky.”
Izo, still staring into the jungle, finally spoke. “We wait.”
The others glanced at him, surprised by his sudden certainty. “She’s watching us,” he continued, twirling the petal. “And if she’s anything like I think she is… she’ll come to us when she’s ready.”
Marco exchanged a knowing look with Thatch. The game wasn’t over. It was just getting started.
Y/N's Pov
Perched high in the branches of a sturdy tree, Y/N stretched lazily, letting the golden morning sun warm her skin. The jungle around her was alive with the hum of insects and the rustling of leaves, but her attention was on the clearing below, where the Whitebeard pirates were beginning to stir.
Her lips curled into a smirk as she spotted Thatch grumbling, sending another petal their way. Still salty about the food, huh? She had to admit, the look on his face when he realized she had taken his bribe and leaving behind a calling card had been priceless.
She tilted her head as her gaze flickered to Izo. He was quiet this morning, his sharp eyes scanning the jungle, fingers absently toying with something in his hand. The petal. Her smirk faltered just a little. She hadn’t meant for him to keep it. It had just been a playful touch, another piece of the game she was playing with them. But now… now he was holding onto it like it meant something.
She exhaled, leaning back against the tree trunk, absentmindedly weaving another flower. He’s suspicious, that much was obvious. The way he had stared at her yesterday had made something in her chest twist. He had recognized her—maybe not completely, but enough for it to unsettle him.
That was dangerous, but also very fun, and exactly what she had been hoping for. Y/N bit back a laugh as Thatch’s groan of frustration echoed up through the trees. Oh, she could mess with them all day.
Then, Izo spoke. “We wait.”
That made her pause. She expected them to try searching for her, maybe set another trap. But this? He was waiting for her to come to them. Her fingers curled around the stem of the flower she was holding.
Did he know her well enough to guess that she would? Interesting.
She exhaled through her nose and stretched her arms over her head. If they were going to play this game, she might as well make it fun. Sliding down from her perch, she landed silently on the jungle floor, her power already twisting through the vines and flowers around her. The jungle whispered in response, eager to aid in her mischief.
A grin spread across her face. Let’s see if they’re ready.
Y/N moved through the jungle like a ghost, her bare feet barely making a sound against the soft earth. The island was her playground, and the Whitebeards were unwitting participants in her game.
She crouched behind a thick tree trunk, peeking out to watch. Thatch paced around, still sulking, Marco was relaxed, as always, sipping from his flask, but his sharp blue eyes kept flicking toward the trees. Izo, though, hadn't moved much. He was watching and waiting.
Time to make things interesting. She pressed her fingers against a nearby vine, feeling it shift under her touch. With a silent command, it stretched toward Thatch’s ankle, curling just enough to brush against his boot.
Thatch yelped, jumping back. “What the hell—?”
Marco snorted. “Scared of a vine yoi?"
“It moved! I swear it moved!” Thatch kicked at it, but the vine went limp, playing innocent. Y/N covered her mouth to muffle a laugh.
Encouraged, she reached out again, this time sending a cluster of flowers to bloom right behind Izo, their petals brushing against his back. He tensed but didn’t turn. Instead, he reached up, plucked one of the flowers without looking, and examined it between his fingers.
A chill ran down Y/N’s spine. He knew. Maybe not everything, but he knew she was there, and instead of calling her out, he tucked the flower behind his ear and went back to staring at the jungle.
Y/N blinked. That was unexpected.
She shifted in place, debating her next move, when Marco suddenly spoke. “You done messing with us yet, Y/N-yoi?”
Her breath caught. Marco smirked, tilting his head toward the trees. “Or you gonna keep playing hard to get?”
Thatch groaned. “Wait, you knew she was there this whole time? And you didn’t say anything?”
Marco shrugged. “She was having fun yoi.”
Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. Fine. If they were expecting her now, she might as well make an entrance. With a flick of her fingers, a thick root pushed up from the ground beneath her, lifting her high above the foliage. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating her figure as she perched on the vine like a queen surveying her court.
“Morning, boys,” she called down, grinning. “Sleep well?”
Thatch gawked up at her. “You little—!”
Izo simply looked up and met her gaze. Y/N’s grin faltered for just a second, then she hopped down, landing gracefully a few feet away. “Since you’re all so eager to see me, I suppose I can stop hiding.”
Marco chuckled. “How generous.”.
Y/N smirked, hands on her hips. “So? What’s next?”
Marco leaned back against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, watching Y/N with mild amusement. “So, now that you’ve had your fun, what exactly are you doing here yoi?”
Tilting her head. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Thatch groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You could, but we both know you already know the answer.”
She shrugged, completely unbothered. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Izo finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve been watching us since we arrived.”
Y/N’s smirk widened. “You only just figured that out?"
Izo’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t take the bait. “And you’ve been messing with us.”
“Just a little.” She held up two fingers, a playful glint in her eyes. “Can you really blame me? You walked right into my jungle.”
Thatch let out an exaggerated sigh. “Great. She’s territorial.”
Y/N grinned. “Not territorial—prepared.”
As if to prove her point, a branch overhead shifted, dropping a perfectly aimed fruit onto Thatch’s head. He flinched, cursing as Marco laughed.
“Right,” Marco said, his smirk never fading. “And what exactly are you prepared for, hmm?”
Y/N twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The atmosphere between them shifted just a little. The playful teasing remained, but beneath it, there was something else—curiosity, caution, and something unspoken between her and Izo. He was still watching her, still analyzing every move she made. He hadn’t called her out, hadn’t pushed for answers. But Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were silently daring her to slip up.
She wouldn’t. Not yet. Instead, she sighed dramatically. “Well, since you’re all so interested in me, how about a little deal?”
Marco raised a brow. “Oh? You’re offering us a deal yoi?”
“Sure.” She crossed her arms, leaning slightly on one foot. “I’ll stop messing with you—”
Thatch scoffed. “Doubt it.”
“—if,” she continued, ignoring him, “one of you can beat me in a little game.”
Marco and Thatch exchanged a look, intrigue flickering in their eyes. Izo, however, remained quiet, holding onto that single flower she had unknowingly left him.
“Alright,” Marco said, tilting his head. “What kind of game yoi?”
Y/N smirked. Now they were interested. She gestured to the jungle. “Hide and seek.”
Thatch groaned. “Seriously?”
“What?” She grinned. “Afraid you’ll lose?”
Marco chuckled. “And what happens if we win?”
Y/N’s eyes gleamed. “Then maybe—maybe—I’ll answer a question.”
Marco hummed, considering it. Thatch still looked doubtful. Izo spoke. “And if we lose yoi?”
Y/N’s smirk widened. “If you lose…” She turned on her heel, stepping backward into the shadows of the jungle. “Then you admit I’m better at this than you.”
Thatch snorted. “Yeah, okay—”
But before he could finish, vines suddenly snapped up from the ground, twisting around their ankles—not tightly, just enough to distract them for the split second it took for Y/N to disappear into the trees.
Thatch cursed, shaking them off. “Oh, come on!”
Marco let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like we’re playing yoi.”
Izo remained still, staring at the spot where Y/N had been. “Fine,” he murmured under his breath, so quietly only he could hear.
Marco cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. “Alright, boys. Looks like we’ve got a little game to win.”
Thatch groaned, adjusting his belt. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just catch her already.”
From deep in the jungle, a playful laugh echoed through the trees. Catch me if you can. Marco smirked. “She’s fast. But we’ve got numbers yoi.”
Thatch nodded. “We split up?”
Marco glanced at Izo, who was still staring into the jungle, lost in thought. “Let’s stick together. If she’s as good as I think, we’ll need to be careful yoi.”
Izo finally blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Agreed.”
The jungle was alive around her, shifting to her silent commands as she darted through the trees. Leaves curled to hide her tracks, vines subtly shifted to mislead anyone following, and the thick canopy above dappled the ground in uneven shadows. Y/N crouched high in the trees, watching as the three men disappeared beneath the canopy. A smirk tugged at her lips. Smart. They’re staying together. That would make things harder, but not impossible. She knew they would try to find her. She wanted them to. This wasn’t just a game anymore—it was a test.
She leapt up onto a thick branch, crouching low as she listened for movement. Thatch would be the easiest to fool—he was loud, impatient, and too quick to assume he had the upper hand. Marco? A bit trickier. His sharp instincts meant he wouldn’t fall for obvious tricks. Then there was Izo.
Y/N exhaled through her nose. He had barely reacted when she vanished, but she felt his stare linger in the space she had left behind. He knew, maybe not fully, maybe not consciously, but deep down, he knew.
Her heart did an annoying little flip. She squashed it down.
She pressed her palm against the tree trunk, feeling the way the roots spread beneath the earth. The jungle was alive, and it knew her well. A nudge here, a shift there—nothing too obvious, just enough to throw them off.
A branch cracked in the distance. Marco’s head snapped up. “Left.”
Thatch scowled. “You sure?”
“No.” Marco smirked. “But she wants us to think that’s where she is yoi.”
Y/N’s grin widened. Not bad. But she wasn’t done. A sudden gust of movement—branches shaking, leaves rustling—a blur of color darting between the trees.
“There!” Thatch pointed.
Marco moved first, fast as ever, closing the distance in a flash. He reached out— And his fingers curled around a bundle of vines twisted into a vaguely human shape before collapsing to the ground.
“She’s really enjoying this,” Thatch muttered.
Izo had yet to say a word, moving through the jungle with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the terrain with a sharp, unrelenting focus. He was looking past the vines, past the tricks, past the distractions. He was looking for her.
Y/N felt it in her bones—the way his gaze swept the trees, not chasing after illusions, but searching for something real. She swallowed. Izo had always been sharp. Even now, after all these years, he still saw through the nonsense.
She shifted positions, pressing herself against the trunk of a massive tree, waiting for them to move. Waiting for Izo to look where no one else would.
Something wasn’t right. The tricks, the laughter, the playful teasing—it was all too familiar. He had played this game before. A long time ago. He wasn’t chasing shadows. He wasn’t getting fooled by vines or rustling leaves.
No.
He was looking for her. And suddenly, he knew. His head turned—just slightly. His eyes locked onto a tree, where the shadows curved wrong, where the leaves didn’t quite fall naturally.
A memory, buried deep, surfaced without permission. A little girl, barely five, hiding behind a tree just like this. Holding her breath, waiting for him to find her, and he had. Just like now.
Ahead of him, Marco’s voice cut through the quiet. “She’s leading us in circles yoi.”
“…There.” His voice was quiet but absolute.
Marco followed his gaze. “You sure?”
Izo took a slow step forward, and Y/N moved. A blur of motion as she leapt from her hiding spot, twisting midair before landing lightly on another branch. He had found her.
“I know you’re up there,” he called, his voice steady, even. “You can come down now.”
Silence. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the jungle around them. Even Marco and Thatch were still waiting. A slow, amused chuckle drifted down from the treetops. Izo felt his chest tighten. That laugh. He knew that laugh.
She met his gaze, just for a second. And Izo swore he saw something there—something familiar, something painfully real.
Y/N smirked. “Not bad,” she called, voice light, teasing. Izo let out a slow breath. And for the first time, he let himself think the thought he had been pushing away since the moment he saw her. ‘Could it really be you?’
Y/N dropped down from her perch, landing softly on the jungle floor with a quiet thud. She dusted her hands off casually, her playful grin still in place. “Alright, alright,” she said with mock reluctance, “I suppose you’ve earned it.”
Marco raised an eyebrow, not entirely surprised that she had let them win. It had been a game to her, after all. But there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at something more. “So, one question, right yoi?”
Y/N gave him a slow nod. “One question. Ask wisely, though. I’m not as generous as I look."
Izo’s gaze shifted to her, still quiet, but intense. She caught it in her peripheral vision, and something in her chest twisted again. “What’s your plan here? What are you really after?”
There it was—the question she had known was coming. Y/N studied him for a long moment, her gaze flickering over his tense face, the quiet storm in his eyes. She could feel the weight of the moment, the heaviness that hung between them.
“You really want to know?” she asked, her voice soft now, more serious than before.
Izo didn’t answer, but his eyes held steady on hers. Y/N hesitated, the playful smirk fading just slightly. “I’m here for a rare bug,” she finally admitted, her words careful. “A gift for my brother’s birthday. That’s all.”
Izo blinked, and Marco looked between the two of them, confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“A bug?” Thatch repeated incredulously. “You came all the way out here for a bug?”
Y/N’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “You’d be surprised how important some things are to people.”
Izo said nothing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, even as the question lingered in the air between them. He was trying to piece it all together—her, the island, the flower, the way she had been so careful not to give too much away. It was like chasing shadows, like trying to grasp at something that slipped through his fingers the moment he thought he understood it.
He wanted to ask again. Who are you really? But he couldn’t. Y/N turned her back slightly, almost as if she was giving them all a moment to digest the answer. Izo watched her, his thoughts a whirlwind he couldn’t sort out. There was something close to acceptance—like maybe he was ready to face whatever truth was coming next. Not yet.
Y/N took a deep breath, the jungle around her alive with the hum of nature. She was still feeling the weight of the moment, her admission about the bug hanging in the air. But she pushed it aside. Luffy’s birthday was coming up soon, and the sooner she found the rare bug, the better.
“Alright, I’m off.” She turned toward the dense undergrowth, her fingers brushing over the leaves, her mind already focused on the task ahead. She had an idea of where to find the bug, but the island wasn’t exactly small, and she wasn’t in the mood for wasting time.
“Careful, kid,” Marco called after her, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I don’t think we’ve seen everything this island has to offer yoi.”
Y/N looked back over her shoulder with a playful smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of getting lost.”
As she ventured deeper into the jungle, the foliage began to shift around her. She whispered under her breath, coaxing the plants to open up, creating a clearer path forward. Her connection with the island felt natural, and she was already feeling the tug of something ancient, hidden within the foliage. Behind her, the Whitebeards exchanged glances. Izo’s eyes narrowed slightly, the realization of what she had said and done still fresh in his mind. He hadn’t expected the bug to be the reason she was here. But something in his gut told him there was more to it.
He knew her words weren’t the full story. They never were, but for now, he watched her move through the jungle, his mind heavy with questions. He was almost certain now, though part of him still refused to admit it.
“You think she’s really just here for a bug?” Thatch asked, his voice low as he and Marco fell into step behind Izo.
Marco shrugged. “Dunno. Something’s off, though. Too many coincidences.”
Izo said nothing, his gaze fixed on the path Y/N had taken. His instincts told him to follow, to get answers. But something else held him back. The weight of the flower tucked behind his ear felt heavier, as if it were pulling him toward something he wasn’t ready to face.
Meanwhile, Y/N had finally found what she was looking for. A cluster of bright, almost iridescent flowers grew along the base of a large tree, their petals a delicate shade of blue that shimmered in the light. She knelt beside them, her fingers lightly brushing over the petals.
This was it. The bug she had been searching for, a rare creature that lived among the flowers, was supposed to bring luck and love. She reached into the cluster and gently coaxed the small, iridescent creature into her hand. The bug fluttered, its wings sparkling like a piece of the sky.
Y/N smiled softly, her gaze distant for a moment. It was perfect.
Y/N decided to return to Whitebeard’s camp, the rare bug nestled carefully in her hand, its delicate wings fluttering in the warm air. She was careful not to damage it, knowing how important it would be for her brother.
The Whitebeard crew had already set up a makeshift campfire, and the faint smell of food lingered in the air. As she approached, they looked up from their conversations, their eyes sharp but curious.
“You find what you were looking for yoi?” Marco asked, though his tone was more curious than anything.
“Found it,” Y/N said, showing them the bug. It sat still for now, seemingly calm in her hand.
Izo didn’t say anything immediately, his eyes flicking between Y/N and the creature. Marco and Thatch, however, exchanged glances. “So, what’s the big deal with this bug?” Thatch asked, leaning forward. “You went through a lot of trouble for it.”
Y/N’s gaze softened as she looked at the little bug, her fingers gently cradling it. “My little brother is really into bugs,” she explained, her voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. “He’s always collecting them, keeping them as pets... I thought this one would be a good birthday gift for him.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “A bug as a birthday gift yoi?”
Y/N’s lips curled into a smile. “Luffy’s got a thing for them. He’ll appreciate it.”
Izo’s eyes lingered on her, and he spoke, his tone low and steady. “That’s it? Just for him?”
Y/N paused, the weight of his question sinking in. Her gaze flickered briefly to the flower behind his ear. “Yeah. Just for him,” she replied, though something in her voice hinted at a deeper story.
Whitebeard, who had been silently observing, leaned forward slightly. “You sure there isn’t more to it?”
Y/N met his gaze without flinching. “What do you mean?”
Whitebeard’s deep voice rumbled, a knowing look in his eyes. “A bug that brings luck and love... Sounds like there’s more at play here than just a simple gift for a kid.”
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the bug for a brief moment, but she quickly masked it with a shrug. “I told you what I’m after. Nothing more to it.”
Thatch frowned, still unsure. “You came all the way here just for that? I mean, that’s a pretty big detour for a bug.”
Y/N’s eyes flicked to Izo, and she saw the way he was staring at her—still searching, still hesitant. She could feel his suspicion, but she wasn’t ready to confront it. “Well, when you’re as prepared as I am, you make it work,” she replied, dodging the question for now.
Izo remained quiet, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she wasn’t saying. Whitebeard exhaled, leaning back. “Alright. If you say so. But remember, kid... nothing stays hidden forever. You can keep up your game, but eventually, we’ll figure it out.”
The night had settled over the island, the sounds of the jungle dimming into the background. Y/N sat slightly apart from the others, her knees tucked up to her chest, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The rare bug, now safely contained in a small jar, rested beside her, and her mind was already focused on her next move.
She knew she had to leave soon, before the Whitebeards realized what was really happening. Before her emotions could catch up with her. Izo, Marco, and Thatch were sitting nearby, their voices low, but Y/N had already heard their unspoken questions. She had given them only half of the truth, and they had all been waiting for her to fill in the blanks.
Y/N took a deep breath and stood up, brushing the dirt from her clothes. She approached the fire, her steps quiet, eyes focused on Izo’s back. Whitebeard noticed her first, his sharp gaze flicking up from his drink. “Brat,” he called out with a slight grunt. “You heading out?”
Y/N’s lips curled into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “Yeah. I’ve got a long journey ahead.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “A long journey? For a bug yoi?” He was trying to be playful, but there was something behind his words, an unspoken question.
Y/N didn’t falter. “Not just for the bug. For my brother.” She glanced at the jar, her fingers brushing against the glass. “Luffy’s about to set sail soon. Promised I would join his crew.”
The mention of her brother had a weight to it, a heaviness that lingered in her voice. She quickly masked it with a half-smirk, but the words felt more like a confession than a statement. Izo’s gaze never left her. She could feel his eyes on her back as she spoke. It was quiet, but she knew he was listening, trying to make sense of it all.
A beat passed, and then Y/N shifted her stance, taking a small step closer to Izo. He was looking at her now, his expression unreadable. She let out a small, quiet laugh, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You really want to know, don’t you?”
Izo hesitated, his mouth set in a thin line. He was fighting something, and she could see it in the tension of his shoulders. Y/N’s eyes softened, the playful edge fading. “I’m not asking for anything from you, Izo. This is... just my way. I’ll be fine.”
For a brief moment, the silence was heavy, thick with all the unsaid things. But then, Y/N took a small step back, pulling herself together with a quick breath. “I’ll leave when the moon’s at its peak,” she added, as if to make it clear she wasn’t going to drag things out. “You’ll know when I’m gone.”
Izo didn’t respond immediately. His fingers tightened around his drink, and she saw his gaze flicker to the flower tucked behind his ear, the one she had noticed earlier. The weight of the moment was almost unbearable. But Y/N didn’t linger. She knew that she could only hide behind this playful mask for so long before she’d crack.
Instead, she gave one final look at the crew before turning her back to them. “We’re even now,” she called over her shoulder, her voice lightly teasing. “No more questions. No more games. See you around.”
With that, she walked off into the shadows of the jungle, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t look back.
Summary: Y/N is tired of seeing Sanji flirt with Nami and decides to show him what it feels like, in the most extreme way possible.
Pairing Zoro x female!reader, Sanji x female!reader
A/N: uuuh don't ask my thought process or inspiration for this one. Thanks. ENJOY!
Y/N watched Sanji from across the kitchen, her eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched. He was doing it again – flirting shamelessly with Nami. It was a dance they'd all seen before: Sanji, the flamboyant cook with an eye for beauty, and Nami, the tough-as-nails navigator who could handle herself. But tonight, something snapped within Y/N.
Their dinner was another evening cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat and spilled ale as the Straw Hat ate. Y/N leaned against the counter; her arms crossed over her chest as she observed Sanji's antics. She couldn't ignore the way he flicked his eyelashes at Nami, the way he offered her a plate of food with a flourish that was more suited to royalty than their ragtag crew.
As the night grew later and the drinks flowed more frequently than the food, the atmosphere slowly grew tense. Sanji's flirting crossing the line from playful to disrespect, and Y/N's patience wearing thinner than the last piece of pork on the grill. She knew Nami could handle herself, and Sanji would never do anything to truly jeopardize their relationship, but she couldn't stand by any longer and watch as her friend was once again subjected to her boyfriend's relentless toying.
Zoro had been eyeing her all evening, his gaze intense. She met his stare and nodded; a knowing smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He knew what she had in mind, and he was more than happy to oblige. Without a word, he took her hand and led her to the back of the ship away from the drunken revelry and into the quieter, dimmer air outside.
Sanji, ever the observant one, caught the tail end of their exit. He knew that look on Y/N's face – it was a warning shot; he better tread carefully. He swiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what was to come, even he has to admit, he'd probably gone too far this time. With a sigh that was equal parts regret and resignation, he set down the tray of food and followed them, heart racing.
The cool night was like a slap in the face, sobering Y/N up and sharpening her focus. She turned to Zoro, who leaned against the railing, his arms folded. "Thanks for the backup," she murmured, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. He nodded; the moonlight casting shadows across his stoic face.
Sanji emerged, his steps hesitant. The back of the ship was a stark contrast to the bustling kitchen – the distant sound of the waves crashing against the ship was a gentle reminder of the vast world beyond the cacophony. He took a deep breath and approached, his eyes flicking between Y/N and Zoro. "I...I didn't mean to upset you," he stuttered, his usual confidence waning like the moon behind a cloud.
The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of the sea and the promise of a storm. Y/N stepped closer, eyes boring into his. "You know I don't like when you do that," she said, her voice low and steady. "You need to learn when to stop." Sanji nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground, his shoulders slumped. He knew she was right, but he couldn't help his flirty nature. It was as much a part of him as his love for cooking.
Zoro took a step forward, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "It's not just about upsetting her," he said, his tone even. "You're disrespecting the crew. And yourself." Sanji's head shot up at that, his eyes wide with surprise. It wasn't often that Zoro spoke about matters of the heart, but when he did, his words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken sentiments.
Y/N didn't give him a chance to respond. She stepped closer to Sanji. "You want to see what it feels like for me?" she whispered, her tone sharp. "Fine." With a flick of her wrist, she gestured to the ground. "Lay down."
Sanji's cheeks flushed, but he knew better than to argue with Y/N when she had that look in her eyes. He dropped to his knees and laid down. She looked down at him, her expression unreadable, and with slow deliberate movements, she lifted her skirt, revealing the flesh of her thighs. Sanji's breath hitched in his throat, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her gaze was locked on Zoro, the unspoken challenge clear.
Zoro stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Y/N's. He reached out and wrapped one hand around her waist, the other tangling in her hair. He pulled her back against him, his hardness pressing against her, as he positioned her right above Sanji's face. The warmth of his breath washed over her, and she could feel her pussy throb with anticipation. She was going to make Sanji watch, make him understand what he was doing to her with every leering look and lewd remark aimed at others.
As Zoro entered her, she gasped, the sensation of him filling her up sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body. Her juices began to leak out, dropping onto Sanji's upturned face. He flinched at first, but then something in his expression changed – a mix of horror and arousal that made Y/N's blood boil. She threw her head back, moaning as Zoro's rhythm grew faster, harder. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of liquid splattering onto Sanji's face, his cheeks shiny with her desire.
The sounds of their passion filled the alley – the slap of skin on skin, the wetness of their coupling, Y/N's moans of pleasure. Sanji lay there, as droplets of her arousal fell onto his cheeks, and in his mouth. He could taste the saltiness, feel the heat of her anger and lust. It was a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, a stark reminder of the consequences of his actions.
Zoro was like a man possessed, his thrusts unyielding as he claimed Y/N over and over again. Each time she came, she'd grip the rail for support, her nails digging into the wood as she arched her back, her body shuddering with ecstasy. Sanji could feel the vibrations through the ground, a tangible reminder of his own failure to control his desires.
Y/N lost herself in the waves of pleasure. She knew Sanji was watching, could almost taste his discomfort, his humiliation, and with each orgasm that crashed over her, she felt a twisted satisfaction knowing that he was forced to bear witness to the power and passion she gave to Zoro.
Sanji's face grew wetter and wetter, the taste of her cum a bitter reminder of his folly. Yet, as much as he wanted to look away, his eyes remained locked on hers, unable to tear himself from the sight of her in the throes of passion with Zoro. His own arousal grew, an unwelcome and confusing sensation that only served to fuel his embarrassment.
Sanji knew he'd crossed a line, and this was his penance – to lay there, to feel the full brunt of their connection, to understand what it meant to truly crave and be craved by someone.
Y/N leaned back into Zoro's embrace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could sense the tension in Sanji's body, hear his hands clench and unclench. This was it, the moment she'd been waiting for – the moment when he'd realize and finally understand the toll his thoughtless flirting took on her.
With a final, powerful thrust, Zoro reached his peak, his grip on Y/N tightening as he filled her completely. She cried out, her orgasm ripping through her like lightning. Sanji felt the tremors as she came, the spasms that echoed through her body and into his soul.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Zoro pulled out. Y/N's knees were weak from the intense pleasure, but she had a job to do. She stepped away from the swordsman, her eyes glancing at Sanji. He was still on the ground, his face a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, only added to her anger.
With a swiftness that belied the passionate haze she was still in, Y/N straddled Sanji's face, her sopping wet pussy hovering just above his mouth. "Lick me clean," she ordered, her voice as cold as the steel of Zoro's blade. Sanji's eyes widened in horror, but he knew better than to disobey. With a sigh, he parted his lips and began to clean her up, his tongue lapping at the mixture of their juices.
The taste was bitter and salty, a potent reminder of his own desire and failure. Y/N watched him, as he licked and sucked in an attempt to consume the last remnants of his foolishness, her eyes cold and unyielding.
Zoro, for his part, had disappeared, leaving them to their moment of reckoning. Sanji's cheeks burned with the humiliation of it all – the man he considered his rival had just claimed Y/N in the most primal way possible, and now he was left deal with the aftermath. This would be a lesson he would never forget.
As Y/N's thighs tightened around his head, she began to grind down onto his face, pushing his tongue deeper into her. Sanji gagged but didn't stop, knowing that she would only get more aggressive if he did. He could feel the anger in her movements, the way she used his face to satisfy herself without an ounce of pity.
It was silent but for their muffled sounds of pleasure and pain. Sanji's tongue worked tirelessly, cleaning every inch of her, tasting the faint hint of Zoro's seed mixed with her own. It was an indignity that cut deeper than any sword, but Sanji knew he deserved it.
Y/N's hips rocked back and forth, her orgasm still pulsing through her body. She ground down onto Sanji's face with a viciousness that made him whimper, the friction of his stubble against her tender skin sending sparks of pain through her. She knew she was being cruel, but she didn't care. He'd brought this upon himself.
With a last, violent thrust, she pulled away, leaving Sanji gasping for breath. He lay there, his face wet and sticky, as she stepped over him. "Remember this next time you think about disrespecting me," she hissed.
But Y/N's heart wasn't as cold as her words. Beneath the anger and betrayal, there was a part of her that still cared for Sanji, a part that didn't want to leave him like a forgotten scrap of meat. So, she turned back to him, her eyes softening slightly. "Get up."
Sanji scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbly from the intensity of his emotions. He looked at her, hope flickering in his eyes like a candle in a storm. Y/N reached out and took his hand, leading him towards a bench.
Her touch gentle as she turned him to face her, moving her hands to his shoulders and pushing him to sit. "Look at me," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. Sanji met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and regret. "I know you feel like what you're doing is just harmless fun, but it hurts."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the realization dawning in them, the recognition that he had hurt his girlfriend, whom he cared for deeply. "But" she continued, her grip on his shoulders tightening, "I'm not going to leave you like this."
With a suddenness that took Sanji by surprise, Y/N straddled him, her knees pressing into his thighs. She reached down and unbuckled his belt, freeing his erection from the confines of his trousers. It was clear that the show she'd put on with Zoro had affected him, and she knew just what to do to drive the point home.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "You want to be the one to make me moan, to make me scream your name?" Sanji nodded, his eyes glazed over with need. "Then prove it," she said, lowering herself onto his cock.
The sensation was overwhelming – she was so wet, so tight, and the way she moved was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He gripped her hips, trying to steady her as she began to ride him with a ferocity that stole his breath. Her nails dug into him, leaving half-moons that burned with every thrust.
Y/N leaned in close, her eyes locked on his. "This is what you get when you're with me," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "No one else can give you this, Sanji." She began to move faster, her body taking over as the passion consumed her. Sanji could feel the tension in her muscles, the way she tightened around him as she approached climax.
He was lost in her, in the feel of her slick heat, in the way she took what she wanted without apology. His anger and humiliation had turned into a fierce need that only she could satisfy. His hips met hers, each thrust a silent promise to do better, to be better.
Shadows danced around them as they found their rhythm, their bodies moving as one. The sounds of their union filled the night, a symphony of love and anger, of passion and punishment.
Y/N threw her head back and screamed out his name, her pussy clenching around him and, Sanji knew that she had made her point. No one had ever fuck him like she did, and no one ever would. The lesson was burned into his soul.
As they both came down from the peak, their breathing ragged and their bodies sticky with sweat, Sanji wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. He whispered his apologies into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll do better," he promised. "For you, I'll always do better."
Y/N leaned into his embrace, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. "I know."
A/N: This chapter has been rewritten. If you saw the original, no you didn't.
Pairing: none in this one
This island was rumored to be a nightmare. A lawless, untamed mass of jungle, teaming with dangers lurking in the shadows, where even the strongest beasts rarely held dominance for long. The perfect stop for a pirate crew like the Whitebeards.
Marco and Thatch had been sent ahead to scout and clear out any immediate threats and confirm that the island was as wild as they’ve been led to believe. However, what they discovered was something else entirely. The jungle was silent and still.
Not the kind of stillness that came before an ambush, nor the eeriness of a place abandoned. No, this silence was controlled. Something intentional. Tamed.
The trees that should have been gnarled and unwelcoming now stood like guardians, their thick roots weaving through the earth in an organized, almost artistic pattern. The air, though humid, carried the distinct scent of flowers—fresh, blooming, and thriving in a place where only the fiercest of plants should have survived.
And the beasts? The predators that should have been circling, hungry for blood, were instead… watching. Perched on high branches, nestled among the roots, lurking in the underbrush—but not attacking.
Thatch ran a hand through his hair, releasing a low whistle. "Alright, I don’t know about you, but this isn’t what I expected."
Marco didn’t respond, his sharp blue eyes scanned the clearing ahead, narrowing slightly. A lone figure stood at the heart of the jungle, her presence an undeniable contrast against the wilderness. Her stance was relaxed, but there was a quiet authority in the way she carried herself, the way the ground beneath her feet seemed to breathe with her movements.
She wasn’t fighting, she was taming.
A massive feline predator—easily twice the size of an ordinary lion—stood before her, fangs bared in uncertainty rather than aggression. The thick vines wrapped around its paws weren’t constricting, merely waiting. A single flick of her wrist.
The vines loosened, retreating like obedient servants. The beast let out a deep, guttural sound—not quite a growl and not quite a purr—before slinking back into the jungle.
Thatch let out another whistle, this time louder. "Now that is a sight you don’t see every day."
Marco didn’t take his eyes off her. His gaze flickered over the flower crown resting atop her head—an intricate arrangement of petals and leaves that shifted ever so slightly, responding to some unseen force. At the center of it, nestled between the blooms, was a single, ornate hairpin that glinted in the dim light.
Something about it nagged at him.
She tilted her head slightly in their direction, though she didn’t fully turn to face them. "You’re making quite the racket" she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement that made it sound almost friendly.
Marco took a step forward, unbothered by the hint of challenge in her tone. "Didn’t expect to find someone already handling the island," he admitted. "Hope we’re not intruding yoi."
Finally, she turned to face them fully. Her eyes flickered across their figures, pausing briefly on Marco’s tattoo before settling into something unreadable. "Whitebeard Pirates," she noted, dragging the words out like she was testing them. "Didn’t think you guys needed to scout islands before setting foot on them. Getting soft?"
Thatch chuckled, resting a hand on his hip. "Ouch. We’re just making sure the old man doesn’t have to deal with any unnecessary surprises when we dock."
"Responsible," she teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "Didn’t think pirates were the type."
Marco wasn’t as easily distracted. There was something about the way she spoke—like she knew something they didn’t. His gaze flickered back to her flower crown; it had changed. The flowers had shifted in color, just slightly, the pattern rearranging itself so subtly that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But Marco did.
"You seem to know a lot about us," he noted, "but I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of an introduction yoi."
The smirk on her lips didn’t waver. "Maybe I just like keeping up with the strongest crews out there. Doesn’t hurt to stay aware, it makes things more interesting."
Marco wasn’t convinced, but instead of pushing, he gestured toward the jungle around them. "More interesting? What exactly do you call this yoi?"
"I call it a home field advantage," she replied, lifting a hand, and the jungle responded. Thick roots curled, flowers blooming alongside them, forming natural pathways beneath her feet. The trees swayed, almost sentient in their movement. Petals drifted through the air, carrying the soft scent of fresh blooms. As though the entire island was in sync with her.
Thatch let out a low laugh. "Damn. That’s one hell of an ability."
Y/N merely shrugged, "It gets the job done."
Marco exhaled, watching her a moment longer. There was something about her that was familiar—the way she carried herself, the flower crown, the hairpin, the subtle toying with them. Something about her felt important.
"Well," Thatch stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Since you’ve already done half our job for us, I say we take it easy ‘til the Moby arrives. Any objections?"
Marco didn’t reply right away. His gaze remained locked on her, watching, waiting, then he smirked slightly. "None here."
She returned the expression, though there was something unreadable beneath the amusement in her eyes. "Smart choice," she murmured before finally introducing herself. “Y/N”
“I’m Thatch and that's Marco” Thatch introduced, but they knew she already knew that.
As they settled in, Marco’s thoughts remained elsewhere. Something about this woman—this stranger who knew far more about them than just being Whitebeard pirates, add the fact that she carried something familiar—was gnawing at the edges of his mind.
Marco and Thatch lingered in the jungle’s clearing, keeping a comfortable distance from Y/N as she continued her effortless control over the land. It wasn’t often that Marco felt the need to just observe someone, but she was different. There was a natural ease in the way she handled everything—the beasts, the terrain, even their conversation.
She was used to this, commanding and in control yet, never forcing it.
That was the strangest part. She didn’t wield her power like a weapon, though something told Marco she could. Instead, she persuaded the jungle into obedience, shaping it with a quiet authority that didn’t need to be shouted.
Thatch, never one to sit in silence for long, eventually broke it. "So, how long have you been here?" he asked, leaning against the trunk of a tree. "Doesn’t seem like you just rolled up and tamed the whole place overnight."
Y/N glanced at him, then tilted her head slightly. "Long enough to know which creatures bite and which ones just pretend to."
"Sounds like experience yoi" Marco noted.
She only smirked. "Something like that."
Before Marco could press further, the distant rumble of waves shifting against a massive hull caught his attention. The Moby Dick had arrived.
From their vantage point, they could just barely make out the massive ship as it glided toward the shoreline, its pristine white hull gleaming under the afternoon sun. The massive figurehead of the great whale stood proud, casting a long shadow over the waves.
The jungle stirred at the arrival of something new. The beasts that had been lurking seemed to pause, their gazes flickering toward Y/N, as if waiting for some kind of command. The vines in the area twitched, adjusting slightly—as though the entire island was reacting to the presence of the incoming crew.
But Y/N didn’t react with alarm, instead, she sighed—something caught between resignation and amusement. "Big entrance," she mused, watching as the ship dropped anchor just beyond the beach. "I guess I should’ve expected that from Whitebeard’s crew."
Thatch grinned. "We don’t do small entrances."
Y/N hummed in response, her flower crown shifting ever so slightly. Marco didn’t miss the way the petals darkened just a little—like a brief flicker of emotion before settling. She knew way more than she was letting on.
The crew wasted no time descending from the ship. A collection of figures disembarked, their presence as heavy as the reputation they carried. Veteran members of the Whitebeard Pirates were immediately recognizable—their confident strides, the way they took in the surroundings with ease. They weren’t worried about an ambush. They weren’t tense. They were claiming this space by simply being here. Among them, one figure in particular stood out.
Izo.
His movements were as precise as ever, graceful yet firm. Dressed in his signature kimono, his twin pistols strapped securely at his side, he scanned the treeline with a critical eye. His gaze flickered toward Marco and Thatch first, briefly assessing them before shifting toward the one unfamiliar presence in the clearing.
Marco didn’t miss the way her body tensed for just a fraction of a second. It was subtle. Barely there, but it happened. Izo’s gaze lingered on her, sharp and analytical. It was the way a trained warrior assessed a potential threat, but also… something uncertain.
Then, his gaze flickered up—toward the crown resting on her head. More specifically—toward the hairpin at its center. Marco saw the exact moment something in Izo’s expression faltered. A flicker of recognition. A narrowing of his eyes. The ghost of something unspoken lingering just behind his otherwise composed exterior. The air between them seemed to shift.
Y/N, however, remained unreadable. She met his gaze straight on with a practiced ease, her smirk returning—though Marco noticed it was slightly tighter than before. "Didn’t expect to get a full welcoming party," she drawled, her voice effortlessly casual. "What’s the occasion?"
Izo didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained locked onto hers, his lips pressing into a thin line. Thatch, ever the one to keep things light, finally broke the moment.
"You’re looking at the guy in charge of supplies," he explained, jerking a thumb toward Izo. "And trust me, he doesn’t take any chances when it comes to making sure we’ve got what we need."
Y/N hummed. "Efficient."
Izo’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something—but for once, words didn’t come easily. Marco could feel it now. This meeting wasn’t normal, and it had everything to do with her.
The realization gnawed at him, slow and steady. Y/N was strong—dangerously so, but that wasn’t why she had caught his interest. She was important, he just didn’t know how.
The beasts of the jungle still lingered in the shadows, waiting, watching. The island itself still seemed to breathe with her presence. And yet, as she stood there, facing Izo with that same unreadable smirk—The tension lingered in the air, thick as the humid heat of the island.
Izo had yet to speak, his eyes still locked onto Y/N, searching for something—confirmation, maybe? Recognition? Whatever it was, she didn’t give it to him, instead, she tilted her head slightly, her smirk unwavering. "You look like you’ve got something on your mind."
Izo’s lips pressed into a thin line before he exhaled, long and slow. His usual sharp demeanor returned, smoothing over whatever crack had momentarily formed. "I just don’t recognize you, that’s all," he finally said, tone neutral.
A lie. Y/N knew it, so did Marco. But neither called him on it.
Instead, Marco let the moment settle before stepping forward, his hands slipping into his pockets. "She’s been handling this island," he supplied, watching as Izo’s gaze flickered briefly toward him before returning to Y/N. "Didn’t need to do much heavy lifting, either."
Thatch snorted. "More like we walked into the middle of a damn exorcism."
Y/N rolled her eyes. "That’s dramatic."
"You were standing in the middle of a beast-infested jungle like it was your personal garden," Thatch shot back. "That is dramatic."
Y/N only shrugged, unconcerned. Izo’s expression didn’t shift, but Marco could see his mind working. Assessing. "So," Thatch continued, shifting the topic as the rest of the Whitebeards finished disembarking, "what’s a girl like you doing all the way out here, anyway?"
That earned a chuckle. "A girl like me?"
"You know," Thatch grinned, gesturing vaguely, "taming islands, walking around barefoot like some jungle queen—doesn’t exactly scream accidental tourist."
Her smirk deepened. "Maybe I just like solitude."
A half-truth. Marco wasn’t the only one who caught it, Izo did too, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides—so small a movement that most wouldn’t have noticed. Marco had known him too long to miss the sign. He was holding back, something was on the tip of his tongue.
A few of the newer recruits were grumbling as they stepped onto the island, already sweating under the heavy jungle air. One of them swatted at the massive insects buzzing around his head, cursing under his breath. Y/N sighed. "They won’t bother you."
The recruit scoffed, still waving his hand in annoyance. "Easy for you to say, lady—"
Before he could finish, Y/N lifted a single finger. The plants nearest him suddenly shifted. Vines slithered over the ground, leaves brushing past his legs. The massive insects that had been swarming him stilled in mid-air—then, without warning, they parted, as if responding to some unseen command.
A perfect, empty space formed around the pirate, leaving him untouched. The jungle had obeyed her. Completely. The recruit paled, stepping back so quickly he nearly tripped. "What the—?"
Y/N lowered her hand, unimpressed. "Like I said, they won’t bother you."
Silence fell over the crew. Marco watched as realization set in across their faces—some confused, some impressed, some wary. She wasn’t just some girl with an interesting Devil Fruit.
A soft, knowing hum came from Thatch. "Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.".
Izo, meanwhile, still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. But his gaze had darkened slightly, the weight of something unspoken settling between them. Then—finally—he spoke again. "You’re a pirate?"
A simple question, hiding something heavy underneath, and yet, Y/N barely hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I am."
This time, it wasn’t just Marco and Thatch watching her. The whole crew had turned their attention toward the exchange. Marco could feel it—the shift. The moment Y/N’s words left her mouth, she stopped being some mystery girl in the jungle. She became something else.
A potential enemy. A potential ally. A potential something. Izo studied her, his expression unreadable. "And which crew do you belong to?"
For the first time, Y/N hesitated, and Marco didn’t miss the way her flower crown shifted—petals curling slightly, as if responding to something unseen, not in a way most would notice. But Marco saw it. A flicker of something beneath her casual mask, then, just as quickly it was gone.
"I’m independent," she finally said. "For now."
Another truth wrapped in a lie. Marco exhaled quietly. This was getting interesting. The Whitebeard Pirates were a seasoned crew, but even the most hardened among them weren’t used to an island that watched them. Meanwhile, Y/N stood at its center, arms loosely crossed, weight shifted to one side, watching them as if they were the strangers in her domain.
Izo was still staring at her. Marco, ever the observer, had shifted slightly closer, his expression unreadable. Thatch, on the other hand, remained relaxed, though his eyes glimmered with curiosity. Y/N felt it in the air—the shift in their perception of her. “You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Thatch was the first to break the silence. “Not every day we find someone taming an island like it’s a house pet.”
Y/N let out a thoughtful hum. “Well, not every island is worth taming.”
Marco’s brow lifted slightly. “And this one is Yoi?”
She gave a slow shrug, the flowers in her crown shifting as if mirroring the motion. “It has its charms.”
Marco exhaled through his nose, amused despite himself. She was smooth, he’d give her that. Every answer gave just enough to keep the conversation going but never enough to reveal anything. Izo’s gaze flickered down, lingering just a moment too long. Y/N tilted her head slightly, almost as if inviting scrutiny. “Something wrong?”
Izo’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was calm when he finally spoke. “Your hairpin.”
The air shifted. It was subtle—so subtle that most wouldn’t have noticed, but Y/N felt it. He wasn’t just looking at it. He recognized it. The corner of her lips twitched. “What about it?”
Izo’s fingers curled slightly at his sides, as if suppressing the urge to reach for it. “Where did you get it?”
Y/N’s smirk deepened. “Why? You like it?”
A perfectly timed deflection. Thatch let out a low chuckle. “She’s good,” he muttered to Marco.
Marco hummed in agreement, but his gaze never left Y/N. Izo, to his credit, didn’t let himself get baited, yet there was something simmering beneath his composed exterior, restrained.
Y/N could sense it. So, naturally, she pushed just a little more. “Tell you what,” she mused, lifting a hand to toy with one of the flowers in her crown. “You tell me what you’re really thinking, and maybe I’ll answer your question.”
Izo’s jaw tightened. “That’s not how this works.”
Her smirk widened. “Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, a booming voice shattered the tension.
“WHAT THE HELL KIND OF JUNGLE DID WE LAND ON?”
Y/N exhaled through her nose, tilting her head toward the tree line as a wave of new voices and heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates. The moment was over, but not forgotten.
Izo’s gaze lingered on her for just a second longer before he finally turned away, his expression unreadable. Marco, however, was still watching her, still assessing. Y/N met his gaze, her smirk never wavering. She was entirely at ease, even with the arrival of the rest of the crew.
Thatch noticed. “She’s taking this well,” he muttered to Marco, though amusement laced his voice.
Marco hummed. He had seen the way she moved, the way the jungle bent to her will. A devil fruit user—one with control. She was surrounded by one of the most infamous pirate crews in the world and she barely blinked.
Either she was foolish, or she knew exactly what she was doing. Marco suspected the latter.
“Oi, Marco!” A deep, confident voice cut through the noise.
Vista strode toward them, his curved blades resting at his hips. He took one glance at Y/N before turning his gaze to Marco. “Whose this?”
Marco crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “The one who has this island under control.”
Vista stroked his mustache as he took her in. “Hmph. She doesn’t look that strong.”
Y/N let out a soft chuckle. “Careful now,” she mused, eyes glinting. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Vista grinned. “That so?”
Before Y/N could answer, a deep, booming laugh echoed across the clearing. “GURARARARA…” And just like that, the entire space shifted. The weight of his presence settled over the jungle, commanding attention before he even spoke.
Whitebeard had arrived.
Even without his bisento in hand, the sheer force of his presence dwarfed everything around him. He was a legend, a king in his own right. For the first time since she met Marco and Thatch, something in her expression stilled. It wasn’t fear. Not quite.
Marco caught it. So did Izo.
Whitebeard’s gaze swept over her, curiosity glinting in his sharp eyes. “I hear you’ve been lookin’ after my boys.”
Y/N tilted her head, recovering fast. “Looking after?” she echoed, lips curling. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Thatch crossed his arms. “Could’ve fooled me. This island practically answers to her.”
Whitebeard exhaled, shifting slightly. “And what should I call you, little one?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Y/N.”
The name slipped from her lips easily, smoothly. It was a gift—a controlled offering. And yet, despite the ease with which she gave it, something in the air tightened.
Izo’s body stiffened, barely noticeable. His gaze flickered—not to her face, but back to the delicate flower crown atop her head. More specifically, to the centerpiece. The world around them faded. The voices of the other pirates blurred into the background. For the first time, he wasn’t just looking at her.
He recognized her. She smiled, unfazed. “Something wrong?”
Izo’s jaw tightened, his voice measured. “That hairpin.”
She lifted a hand to touch it lightly. “Again, what about it?”
Izo hesitated. He was a man of control, of careful words. But there was something unsettling about this moment—something dangerous in the quiet realization forming in his mind. Y/N tilted her head. “You’re staring.”
Before he could answer, a sharp whistle cut through the tension. “Oi, oi, oi!”
Another voice—loud, carefree—broke through the moment. “Why the hell did no one tell us about her before docking?”
The crew turned to see one of the men from the ship jogging over, looking exasperated. “We thought you might've ran into some actual threat! Not some pretty little thing in the jungle!”
A few of the crew laughed. Others looked more confused than amused. Marco sighed. “Yeah… about that…”
Thatch grinned, scratching the back of his head. “Must’ve slipped our minds.”
Vista let out a low chuckle. “You forgot to mention a devil fruit user?”
Y/N exhaled, amused. “That’s what you get for making assumptions.”
The jungle was still. The pirates were relaxed, but Izo hadn’t moved and neither had his gaze. The weight of realization was still there, lingering, creeping closer. Y/N met his stare.
The tension didn’t break—it lingered, stretching between them like a thread pulled too tight. Y/N held Izo’s gaze for a second longer, before she turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the jungle as effortlessly as the wind slipping through the leaves.
Izo didn’t move, didn’t speak or take his eyes off the spot where she’d vanished. That didn’t go unnoticed. A low whistle broke the silence, Thatch leaned forward, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with interest. “Now that was something.”
Vista chuckled, stroking his mustache. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you at a loss for words, Izo.”
Izo finally exhaled, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not.”
“You sure?” Marco drawled, unimpressed. “’Cause you look like a man who just saw a ghost yoi.”
Izo shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat. Thatch’s grin widened. “I mean, I get it. She’s a pretty thing, and mysterious to boot—but I’ve never seen you react to a woman like that before.”
Vista tilted his head, intrigued. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”
Izo’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t the type to lose composure, nor was he one to let his thoughts be pried from him so easily. But this—this was different. This wasn’t just curiosity, it wasn't just some stranger in the jungle. And it sure as hell wasn’t coincidence. Instead of answering, Izo turned on his heel and walked toward the Moby, leaving the others to exchange glances behind him. Thatch let out a low laugh. “Yeah. That’s not suspicious at all.”
Marco exhaled through his nose, watching Izo’s retreating form. “He knows something yoi.”
Whitebeard, who had remained silent through the exchange, finally spoke. “A man like Izo doesn’t get shaken easily.” His deep voice rumbled with certainty. “Whatever’s got him rattled…” He let the thought linger, his gaze drifting toward the jungle. “…It ain’t small.”
The crew mulled over that, their curiosity deepening. The jungle had swallowed Y/N whole, but her presence lingered. Izo’s silence had done nothing to kill the curiosity burning in the others. If anything, it fanned the flames. The second he stormed off toward the ship, Thatch let out a long whistle, dragging a hand through his hair. “Well, damn,” he muttered. “Don’t think I’ve seen that look on Izo’s face.”
Vista crossed his arms, watching Izo’s retreating back with something between amusement and intrigue. “Can’t say I have either.”
Thatch’s grin widened. “I mean, we’ve met plenty of interesting people over the years, but Izo’s always been cool as ice.” He turned toward Marco, expectant. “What do you think?”
Marco didn’t answer right away. His sharp blue eyes were still fixed on the jungle, his mind running over everything that had just played out. The girl—Y/N—had been playful, evasive, and entirely in control of the situation. But the moment Izo noticed that hairpin, the entire dynamic shifted.
This wasn’t something small. Marco exhaled through his nose. “Izo’s definitely seen that pin before yoi.”
Vista hummed. “Not just seen. Recognized.”
Thatch nodded. “You think it’s a family thing?”
That thought made the group pause. Izo rarely talked about his past, and no one pried. The few things they did know? He had no family left. At least, that’s what he told them, what they believed. Marco finally turned away from the jungle, adjusting his stance. “We’ll find out soon enough yoi.”
Whitebeard let out a low chuckle, the deep rumble of his amusement breaking the tension. “Patience, boys. If she’s as clever as she seems, she won’t give up her secrets easily.” His gaze swept over the treeline once more. “I think we’re in for some fun.”
(Meanwhile…..
Y/N moved through the dense foliage with ease, the jungle bending to her will with the faintest touch. Leaves parted, vines coiled away from her path, and flowers bloomed in the wake of her steps. She felt their curiosity trailing behind her, even from a distance. Good.
She wanted them intrigued. She wanted them to wonder, to question. The best way to hold power in any situation was to be wanted—whether it was for answers, for attention, or for something deeper.
Izo? He wanted answers. That much was obvious.
Y/N absently twirled a vine around her fingers, her flower crown shifting slightly with her thoughts. The hairpin at the center had been a risk—one she had taken knowingly, but to see Izo’s reaction? That had been more satisfying than she expected.)
Night had fallen by the time the crew had settled. The Whitebeard Pirates had wasted no time setting up camp on the shore, their bonfires flickering against the dark horizon. They wouldn’t be leaving just yet—supplies still needed gathering, and their time here wasn’t rushed.
But none of them had forgotten her. The mysterious girl with the flower crown. The one who had left Izo rattled and still hadn’t shown her face again.
Marco leaned against a rock near the fire, nursing a drink as he watched the others talk. Despite the usual banter and easy atmosphere, there was a lingering tension beneath it all. He could see it in the way some of the men glanced toward the jungle, expectant.
Waiting.
Thatch, who had been unusually quiet for all of five minutes, finally let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, I gotta say it—she’s definitely watching us.”
Vista smirked. “You think?”
Thatch shot him a look. “I know.” He gestured vaguely toward the trees. “I felt her looking at me earlier. And not in a good way.”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure if she was looking at anyone, it wasn’t you–yoi.”
Thatch clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Marco.”
Vista chuckled, but his gaze drifted toward the jungle again. “She’s patient, I’ll give her that.”
Whitebeard, seated in his usual spot with his bisento resting at his side, finally spoke. “She’s testing us,” that had everyone’s attention. “She knows we’re curious,” the old man continued, watching the flames. “Knows she’s got the upper hand.”
Marco nodded. “And she’s using it.”
Silence settled over them. Then Thatch grinned. “So what I’m hearing is—we lure her out.”
Vista chuckled. “And how do you propose we do that?”
Thatch rubbed his chin in thought, then snapped his fingers. “Food.”
Marco groaned. “That’s your solution for everything yoi.”
“Because it works,” Thatch shot back, already moving toward their supplies. “Mysterious jungle girls still have to eat, don’t they?”
Vista shook his head in amusement, but no one stopped him. Because as ridiculous as it was…It might actually work.
(Meanwhile…
Perched on a thick branch above them, Y/N hid a smirk behind her fingers. They were getting impatient. She’d expected as much. Men like them weren’t used to being left with questions. They were used to answers, and she wasn’t giving them any, not yet. Her flower crown shifted slightly as she adjusted her position, the hairpin gleaming in the moonlight.)
The scent of sizzling meat drifted through the night air, rich and tempting. Thatch had outdone himself, cooking up a feast right there on the shore—grilled fish, seasoned vegetables, and a pot of stew bubbling over the fire. The kind of meal that would make even the most disciplined pirate’s stomach betray them. It was the perfect bait.
Vista sat cross-legged near the fire, arms folded. “So, what’s the plan if she actually shows up?”
Thatch grinned, lazily stirring the stew. “We charm her, obviously.”
Marco scoffed. “You think you can charm her yoi?”
Thatch placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “I think I can charm anyone, Marco.”
Vista chuckled, but his gaze flickered toward the jungle again. Despite the banter, the air remained charged with anticipation. She was still out there. Watching. Izo, seated slightly apart from the group, hadn’t spoken much since the earlier encounter. His fingers tapped idly against his arm, his thoughts unreadable.
And then—A rustle. Subtle, nearly swallowed by the night, but there. Several heads turned, their casual postures shifting into something more alert. Thatch kept stirring the stew, but his grin was sharper now. “You smell that, boys?” He inhaled deeply. “That’s the smell of success.”
Marco didn’t respond. His sharp eyes were already scanning the trees, searching for the presence he knew was there. Another sound—a shift of leaves, the faintest trace of movement, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone, the jungle settled. Marco’s eyes narrowed, something wasn’t right.
“Oi, Thatch.” Marco’s voice was dry. “Your plate’s missing yoi.”
Thatch blinked. “What?”
He looked down. The plate of food he had just set aside—stacked with a perfect portion, waiting to be ‘accidentally’ discovered—was gone. No sound. No sign of movement. Just—gone. For a second, no one spoke, then Vista let out a low laugh. “Well.” He leaned back, smirking. “Looks like she’s one step ahead.”
Thatch’s mouth opened, then closed, then it opened again. “…Damn it.”
A breeze drifted through the clearing, and something soft brushed past Thatch’s shoulder. He startled, looking down—only to see a single flower petal, deep in color, resting atop his sleeve. The same kind that had been woven into her crown.
Marco exhaled through his nose, amused. “She’s toying with us yoi.”
Whitebeard chuckled, the deep rumble of his laughter carrying across the camp. “A clever one.”
Thatch groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You mean to tell me she stole my food and left evidence just to mess with me?”
Vista grinned. “Looks that way.”
Izo finally spoke, his voice unreadable. “…She’s not done playing with us yet.”
And he was right, because somewhere in the trees, perched comfortably with her stolen meal, Y/N smiled. They had been expecting her to take the bait, but she was never one to play by someone else’s rules. She’d let them think they were closing in.
A/N: I'm trying something with this chapter, certain chapters will follow this format, whereas others won't and I'm hoping the difference isn't too jarring
Pairing: Ace x Y/N (Not set in stone)
The first thing Y/N had learned was that the desert didn’t care if she survived.
The heat was suffocating. The kind that clung to her skin, burned her lungs, and made her head pound with every step. Shade was scarce, the sun a relentless enemy overhead. At night, the cold was a cruel contrast, seeping into her bones as if the day’s heat had never existed.
The food situation was worse. There was no fruit, no fields of edible greens. Just sand, cacti, and whatever creatures were foolish enough to cross her path. Her first week, she had tried to force her Devil Fruit powers to work the way they had before—to bloom life from nothing. But the desert swallowed her efforts whole. Roses wilted before they could open, roots struggled to take hold in the unforgiving soil.
She had raged. She had screamed into the endless dunes, furious at her own powerlessness. But the desert didn’t answer.
So, she adapted.
She learned the rhythms of the land, the way the cacti stored water in their flesh, how some had fruit she could eat—if she was willing to risk the spines. She experimented with her powers, willing her flowers to be tougher, stronger. The roses she once relied on were too delicate for this place, but desert plants… They were survivors. She mimicked their endurance, shaping her abilities around them. She grew thorny vines that coiled like snakes, dagger-like petals that could cut flesh. She forced life into the cracked ground, even if it took everything out of her.
When the desert threw sandstorms at her, she wove dense walls of roots to shield herself. When predators lurked in the night, she lured them into traps of bramble and barbed blossoms.
And when loneliness crept in—the kind that clawed at her ribs, reminding her that Kou had left her behind like everyone else—she clenched her fists and drowned it in the bloom of something new.
She wouldn’t need anyone.
Never again.
—————————————————————
A year had passed by the time she stood at the shoreline, staring at the sea that had once been so far away. Her small oasis flourished behind her. The plants she had forced into existence had survived, taking root even in the merciless desert. Proof that she had conquered this place, bent it to her will. But this wasn’t where she was meant to stay.
Her boat—if it could even be called that—was a patchwork of wood and vines, a creation born of sheer willpower. She had spent weeks gathering materials, fighting off beasts for scraps of driftwood, weaving thick roots into something sturdy enough to hold against the waves.
She rested a hand on its side, staring at the endless blue stretching before her. She wasn’t afraid of what came next. If the desert couldn’t break her, then nothing could.
She pulled her bag higher on her shoulder, adjusting the worn strap. Her fingers brushed against her necklace—the only thing that had ever felt like it belonged to her. The only thing that reminded her of where she had come from, even if she refused to belong there— to him.
She smirked, tilting her head up toward the sky.
“Guess it’s time to see what else the world has to offer.”
The boat rocked beneath her as she stepped in, the waves lapping eagerly at its sides. Y/N adjusted her balance with ease, her body attuned to the shifting world beneath her feet. One last glance at the shore—at the power she willed herself to master and the oasis she carved into the desert acting as its heart—then she reached down, fingers curling around the hilt of the blade resting at her side.
Kou’s blade.
It was heavier than it looked, the weight a reminder of everything he had taught her. A farewell gift, though he had never called it that. The first time he pressed it into her hands, he had simply declared, "A blade is only as strong as the one who wields it. Let’s see what you make of it."
She had wanted to throw it back at him. Wanted to tell him she didn’t need a reminder of him, of yet another person leaving. But she hadn’t. Because deep down, she knew this was more than just steel. It was proof that she had been worth something to him, even if he still chose to leave (or maybe she was fooling herself).
The thought burned as it crawled up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
She drew the blade, letting the light catch along its edge. It was sharp, well-balanced, meant for someone stronger than she had been a year ago. But she was strong now. Strong enough to survive on her own.
Y/N let out a slow breath before she sheathed the weapon, securing it at her waist. Her grip tightened around the rope sail, and with a final push, she set herself adrift.
She didn’t look back. The desert had been a prison, a teacher, a battlefield. But it was not her home. The sea called her forward, and this time, she was ready.
The first thing Y/N noticed was the scent—thick, acrid, and clinging to the back of her throat like a ghost of something long since burned. Smoke. Even before she saw the towering piles of discarded wreckage and the people clawing through the ruins for something—anything—she knew she had landed somewhere desperate.
Grey Terminal. She had heard about it in passing, though the rumors didn’t do it’s despair and sorrow justice it would seem
The boat scraped against the shore of the polluted inlet, the wood groaning in protest. Y/N stepped off, boots sinking into damp, trash-littered earth. She had seen ruined places before—places where nature had reclaimed what people abandoned—but this was different. There was no life here, only decay.
Her fingers twitched toward the hilt of Kou’s blade, a habit more than a threat. She wasn’t in danger. Not yet. But the hollow-eyed men watching her from the shadows told her this place wasn’t kind.
Fine. She’s not here to make friends.
She adjusted the strap of her pack, stepping forward. The people here weren’t her concern. She had one goal—get supplies, get information, and get moving. The Grand Line was still a world away, but if she wanted to set foot in it, she needed to be prepared.
The deeper she walked into Grey Terminal, the more the filth of the place settled into her skin. People bartered with scraps, fought over half-rotten food, and moved in twitchy, frantic motions—like rats in a maze running from some invisible threat.
And then there were the bodies. Some recent, others long forgotten the scavengers no longer paid them any mind. Y/N exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to move on.
Y/N knew the moment she stepped into Grey Terminal that trouble would find her. It always did. Her first mistake was thinking she could pass through unnoticed. Her clothes were worn but intact, her movements too sure, her eyes too sharp. She wasn’t like the desperate scavengers clawing through trash heaps for survival—she was a threat, and threats were either used or eliminated.
The second mistake was letting her guard down for a second too long. She felt the presence behind her before she heard the shuffle of feet. A blade, rusted and jagged, swiped toward her ribs. She twisted just in time, the edge tearing into her coat instead of her flesh.
“Tch.” Y/N rolled her shoulder, eyes narrowing as she turned to face her attackers. Three of them. Filthy, thin, and desperate.
“You’ve got good reflexes,” one of them rasped, a man with sunken cheeks and eyes that gleamed with something between hunger and greed. “And that blade of yours looks real nice, girlie. Hand it over.”
Y/N scoffed, fingers brushing the hilt of the blade Kou had given her. As if.
“You want it?” she asked, voice lilting with amusement. “Take it.”
The man snarled, lunging—fast, but not fast enough. Y/N pivoted smoothly, drawing her blade in one swift motion. The flat of it cracked against his wrist, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. He howled in pain, stumbling back.
The second man rushed her from the side. She ducked low, sweeping his legs out from under him. He crashed into the filth with a grunt, spitting curses.
The third hesitated. Y/N tilted her head, twirling her sword in her grip. “Not feeling so brave anymore?”
He spat at her feet. “You think you’re better than us, girl?”
Her smirk sharpened. “I don’t think so. I know.”
With a frustrated growl, the man bolted, disappearing into the maze of refuse. The other two scrambled after him, nursing their bruises. Y/N let out a breath, rolling her shoulders. The fight had barely been a warm-up, but it told her all she needed to know—Grey Terminal wasn’t just dangerous. It was rotting from the inside out.
And she was going to burn through it before it could swallow her whole. Just as she sheathed her sword, a loud voice rang out.
“Whoa! That was awesome!”
Y/N turned sharply, eyes locking onto a grinning boy with a scar under his left eye, his straw hat tilted back as he gaped at her. Next to him, another boy, older, more guarded, stared her down with an intensity far beyond someone his age.
“Who the hell are you?” Ace asked, crossing his arms.
Luffy grinned. “She’s strong! You should join my crew!”
Y/N arched a brow, amusement flickering in her eyes. Well, Looks like things just got interesting.
Y/N’s grip on her sword tightened as she studied the two boys in front of her. They weren’t like the scavengers she’d just fought off—there was no desperation in their stances, no fear. The younger one, all wide eyes and boundless energy, looked at her like she’d just done something amazing. The older one, standing stiffly beside him, had a wariness she recognized all too well.
Her lips curled slightly. Interesting.
The younger boy rocked on his heels, practically vibrating with excitement. “You were amazing! Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
Y/N arched a brow, sliding her blade back into its sheath. “And who exactly are you?”
The boy puffed out his chest. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy! And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”
She blinked, then let out a short laugh. “Oh? Ambitious.”
Luffy nodded eagerly, completely unbothered by her amusement. “Yup! You should join my crew!”
Y/N tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Your crew?”
Luffy beamed. “Well, I don’t have one yet, but I will! And you’re really strong! So you should be my first member!”
Something in her chest ached. He said it so easily, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Join me. Just like that. Before she could answer, the older boy stepped forward, gaze sharp. “Ignore him,” he said flatly. “He asks everyone.”
Luffy pouted. “Not everyone—just the cool people!”
Y/N’s smirk deepened as she turned her attention to the second boy. He was different. Not just in the way he carried himself, but in the way he looked at her—calculating, trying to figure her out. He didn’t trust her. That was smart.
“And you?” she asked, tilting her chin toward him. “What’s your name?”
He hesitated for only a second. “Portgas D. Ace.”
Y/N blinked, something flickering in her expression for half a heartbeat. That name… she knew it. But from where?
She pushed the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time.
“Well, Monkey D. Luffy,” she said, turning back to the younger boy with a teasing lilt, “I hate to disappoint, but—” she hesitated, watching his expectant face.
She wanted to join. She wasn’t sure why, wasn’t sure what about him made her want to believe in something again. But something about him made her think that if she stayed, maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t be alone anymore.
Her fingers brushed against the blade Kou had given her, and she made a decision. Her smile softened, but her eyes were sharp. “—I suppose I’ll stick around. For now.”
Luffy cheered, throwing his fists into the air. “Alright! My first crew member!”
Ace groaned. “She didn’t say that!”
Luffy wasn’t listening. He just grinned at her like she’d given him the world. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn’t feel like taking it away.
—————————————————————
Y/N had never intended to stay long.
She told herself that every time she found herself lingering at the edge of the forest, watching as Ace and Luffy bickered over food or ran wild through the Jungle or Grey Terminal. She wasn’t meant to get attached. This was just a stop, a detour before she moved on.
And yet… she stayed.
It wasn’t intentional—at least, not at first. It started with simple curiosity. She watched from a distance as Ace skillfully navigated the lawless chaos of the terminal and the unpredictableness of the forest, as if it was second nature. Luffy, meanwhile, charged headfirst into everything, often requiring Ace to drag him out of trouble. The contrast amused her.
Then, there were the challenges. Luffy never stopped asking her to join his crew, declaring with absolute certainty that she belonged with them. Ace, on the other hand, remained suspicious, always watching her with guarded eyes. He never asked why she was here or where she came from, but Y/N could tell he was waiting for her to prove herself untrustworthy.
So, she let them get to know her in pieces.
She showed them her strength first. When a group of bandits tried to steal Luffy’s food, she made quick work of them with the blade Kou had given her. Ace had watched her fight with narrowed eyes, but when it was over, he gave her the smallest nod of approval.
Next came her abilities. She never outright explained what she could do, but they noticed. Luffy pointed at the way the vines curled around her ankles when she was deep in thought. Ace side-eyed the way her fingers brushed over a dying flower, only for it to bloom moments later.
But it was Luffy who asked. “Is it a Devil Fruit?”
Y/N hesitated, rolling a rose between her fingers. “The Flora-Flora fruit.”
He grinned. “Cool!”
Ace, of course, was more skeptical. “You don’t use it much,” he noted. “Why?”
She smirked. “Wouldn’t want to make things too easy, would I?”
Over time, she learned about them too. She learned that Luffy was stubborn beyond reason, always throwing himself into fights he couldn’t win, only to get back up every time. That he was reckless and impossible, but had a way of making people believe in him.
She learned that Ace carried a weight on his shoulders he never spoke about. That he hated his father—whoever that was. That sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, his smile would falter. She didn’t ask. She understood the weight of untold stories.
One night, while they sat around a small fire, Luffy stretched his arms behind his head and grinned up at the stars. “We should be a crew!” he declared.
Ace scoffed. “You’re an idiot.”
Y/N hummed. “I thought you already decided that we were.”
Luffy beamed at her. Ace groaned. Maybe she hadn’t planned to stay. Maybe she was still telling herself she’d leave soon.
But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t in a hurry.
—————————————————————
Over the past year, Y/N, Ace, and Luffy had become inseparable. Their days were filled with training, fights, and reckless adventures, pushing each other to their limits.
Ace had grown stronger, his fighting style becoming sharper and more refined. His punches hit harder, his movements were faster, and his endurance was nearly unmatched. Y/N sparred with him often, each battle a contest of speed and willpower. Neither ever backed down, both too stubborn to yield.
Luffy, ever determined, had grown tougher. His rubber body could withstand more force, and while he was still impulsive, his attacks carried more weight. He bounced back from every fall, grinning through every bruise. Y/N teased him constantly, but she couldn’t deny his spirit was contagious.
She had changed too.
Her control over the Flora Fruit had improved. No longer relying solely on instinct, she practiced relentlessly, learning how to manipulate her vines faster, how to make them strike with more precision. She discovered new ways to grow her plants, experimenting with different tactics. Thorns could be weapons, petals could be distractions, roots could be snares. The possibilities were endless, Y/N was no longer just surviving—she was thriving.
Kou’s blade was always at her side, its weight a familiar comfort. She had learned to wield it alongside her Devil Fruit, blending swordplay with her abilities. Ace had called it annoying. Luffy said it was awesome.
They fought together, laughed together, collapsed in exhaustion together. They argued over food, over training, over who was the strongest. They chased their dreams, even when they didn’t fully understand them yet. And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt something she had never known before.
Belonging.
She didn’t have to fight for a place at their side. She didn’t have to prove herself over and over just to be wanted. With Ace and Luffy, she just was. And she didn’t want to lose that.
—————————————————————
The morning mist clung to the trees as Y/N, Ace, and Luffy sat underneath the treehouse, lazily finishing off a meal of half-burnt meat. Luffy, of course, was stuffing his face, while Ace leaned back on his elbows, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. Y/N sat cross-legged, absently twirling a thorned rose between her fingers. It had been a quiet morning—until the ground shook beneath them.
A booming laugh split the air, deep and commanding. Birds scattered from the treetops, and before Y/N could react, an enormous shadow loomed over them.
“ACE! LUFFY!”
Ace cursed, rolling onto his feet, while Luffy nearly choked on his food. Y/N blinked as a mountain of a man stomped toward them, grinning like a madman. His presence alone was suffocating, radiating authority and raw power. Before she could fully process what was happening—a giant fist slammed into Ace and Luffy’s heads with a thunderous crack.
"OWWW!" Luffy wailed, rolling on the ground.
Ace gritted his teeth, rubbing the fresh bump. "Damn it, old man! You trying to kill us?!"
Garp planted his fists on his hips, beaming like he hadn’t just nearly concussed his grandsons. “Good! You brats are still alive.” His eyes flicked over to Y/N, and the grin faltered slightly. "And who's this?"
Y/N tilted her head, giving him a once-over. He looked familiar—rugged, gray-haired, an air of arrogance and absolute confidence. And yet, she had never met him before.
Luffy sat up, rubbing his head. “That’s Y/N!” he chirped. "She’s my crew!"
Ace scoffed. “Your crew? She’d rather be my first mate.”
Y/N smirked. "You two would be lost without me."
Garp stared at her for a long moment. His sharp gaze flickered over her stance, her confidence, the lazy way she held herself, as if she weren’t remotely intimidated by him. “Hmph.” He crossed his arms. “You got guts, kid.”
Y/N leaned back on her hands. “Wouldn’t have survived this long without them.”
Ace groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”
Garp let out a bark of laughter, but there was something thoughtful in the way he watched her. “You’re strong,” he noted. “And I don’t just mean that Devil Fruit of yours.”
Y/N’s fingers curled slightly around the rose in her palm. He hadn’t seen her fight, hadn’t tested her strength, but somehow—he already knew.
She offered him a mock salute. “Flattery will get you nowhere, old man.”
Garp grinned. “Oh, I like this one.” Then, without warning, his fist came flying.
Y/N barely had time to react. She twisted out of the way as his punch obliterated the log she had been sitting on, sending splinters flying. Her feet skidded across the dirt as she regained her balance, eyes narrowing.
“What the hell?” she snapped.
Garp grinned wider. “Just making sure you can keep up.”
—————————————————————
For most people, surviving in the wilderness was a challenge. For Ace, Luffy, and Y/N?
It was hell.
“Faster, brats!” Garp’s booming voice echoed through the forest as the three of them ran for their lives—literally. Behind them, a pack of ferocious beasts, bigger than any Y/N had ever seen, chased them down.
Luffy screamed. “WHY ARE THEY SO FAST?!”
Ace gritted his teeth. “Old man’s insane!”
Y/N, panting but grinning, looked over her shoulder at the enormous creatures. “I don’t know! This is kinda fun!”
“NOT FUN!” Luffy wailed.
Garp, running beside them with zero effort, grinned. “If you can’t outrun some oversized puppies, how do you expect to survive at sea?”
Ace shot him a glare. “A NORMAL PERSON WOULD JUST TEACH US HOW TO FIGHT!”
“Who said I was normal?!”
With that, Garp leaped into the air and delivered a monstrous punch to the ground, shaking the entire forest. The impact sent dirt, trees, and the monstrous beasts flying. Y/N skidded to a stop, eyes wide. “Okay. That was kinda cool.”
Luffy groaned, flopped on his back. “I think I died…”
Ace, breathing heavily, wiped the sweat from his brow. “I hate him.”
Garp laughed. “Good! Hate makes you stronger!” He cracked his knuckles, grinning. “Now get up! We’re just getting started!”
“Dodge, brat!”
“I’M TRYING!” Luffy cried as he barely ducked under Garp’s massive fist. The punch grazed him, sending him spinning like a top. Ace was on the ground, groaning, while Y/N wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, her blade still gripped tightly in her hands.
Garp nodded at her. “At least you’re still standing.”
She smirked, twirling the sword. “You hit like a grandpa.”
Garp’s grin widened. “Oh, really?”
CRASH!
The next punch sent her straight through a tree. She groaned from the wreckage. “Okay… maybe that one hurt a little.”
Ace, dragging himself up, growled. “This training is insane.”
Garp crossed his arms. “You think the sea is gonna take it easy on you?”
Ace clenched his fists, anger burning in his eyes. “No.”
Luffy sat up, his usual smile returning. “Nope! We’re gonna get so strong that no one can stop us!”
Y/N, wiping the dirt from her cheek, smirked. “Damn right we are.”
Garp let out a hearty laugh. “GYAH HA HA! That’s more like it! Now, get back up. We’re not done yet!”
And so, the brutal training continued.
—————————————————————
The clearing echoed with the sounds of clashing wooden swords, fists meeting flesh, and the occasional yelp from Luffy as he miscalculated a move. The trio had been sparring for hours, pushing each other’s limits like they always did. Eventually, exhaustion won, leaving them sprawled across the grass, bruised and breathless.
The sun was beginning to set, casting warm hues over the treetops of Mt. Colubo. The distant crackling of a campfire was the only sound—until Ace, arms behind his head, casually dropped a bombshell.
“She’s joining my crew.”
Y/N, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly choked. Luffy, on the other hand, sat up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t snap his neck. “NO, SHE’S NOT!”
Ace barely glanced at him. “Yeah, she is. She’d be an idiot to follow someone as reckless as you.”
Luffy gasped, scandalized. “I’M NOT RECKLESS!”
“You tried to fight a bear last week,” Y/N reminded him.
Luffy pouted. “It was asking for it.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Ace deadpanned before returning to the original topic. “Anyway, she’s better off under my flag. I’ll be the strongest, so it makes sense she’d sail with me.”
Luffy clenched his fists. “But I’m gonna be Pirate King! So Y/N has to be in my crew!”
Y/N hummed, rocking back on her heels. “Have to?”
Luffy turned to her, nodding furiously. “Yeah! You’re my first crew member!”
Ace snorted. “How can she be your first crew member when I called dibs?”
“You can’t call dibs on a person!” Luffy shot back.
Ace smirked. “I just did.”
Luffy groaned, pulling at his hair. “Y/N! Tell him you’re in my crew!”
Ace smirked at her. “Or you could tell him the truth.”
Y/N crossed her arms, taking her time. She looked between the two brothers, both watching her with comically intense expressions, and then let out a thoughtful hum. “Well… I do like the idea of being the first mate to a powerful captain.”
Luffy beamed. Ace smirked.
“…Which is why I think I’ll start my own crew.”
Both boys froze. Luffy’s jaw practically hit the floor. “HUH?!”
Ace stared at her before scoffing. “You’re kidding.”
Y/N grinned, tilting her head playfully. “Why not? Maybe you two should join my crew.”
Luffy looked horrified. “THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS!”
Ace groaned. “You’re so annoying.”
Y/N laughed, stretching as she turned to leave. “You both better work hard, then. Maybe I’ll consider one of you.”
She walked away, leaving them sitting there in stunned silence.
Luffy huffed, crossing his arms. “She’s still gonna be in my crew.”
Ace scowled. “Yeah, right.”
—————————————————————
The night air was cool, and the flickering firelight danced across the clearing, casting long shadows. Luffy was lying on his back, arms sprawled out, his snoring the only sound breaking the quiet. Y/N sat across from Ace, twirling a small twig between her fingers, watching as he stared into the fire with an unreadable expression.
“So,” Ace finally said, voice quieter than usual. “You ever think about parents?”
Y/N raised a brow at the sudden question but leaned back on her hands. “Not really,” she said easily. “Never had much of a reason to.”
Ace scoffed. “Yeah. Me neither.” He grabbed a small rock and tossed it into the flames, watching as embers sparked up before settling.
Y/N tilted her head. She could feel something heavier beneath his words. “You gonna get to the point, or are we just making small talk tonight?” she teased.
Ace exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced at her, then back at the fire. “Luffy already knows, so I guess you should know too,” he muttered. He shifted uncomfortably, like the words themselves were difficult to say. Then, after a moment, he finally admitted, “My dad was Gol D. Roger.”
Y/N’s fingers stilled against the twig.
She blinked once. Twice. Then she let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Ace shot her an unimpressed look. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“What do you want me to say?” Y/N smirked, tossing the twig into the fire. “That’s a lot to live up to. Or down to, I guess, depending on who you ask.”
Ace scoffed. “Tell me about it.”
Luffy stirred slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake, rolling onto his side with a muttered “Meat…”
Y/N shook her head in amusement before looking back at Ace. “I take it you’re not planning to follow in his footsteps?”
Ace’s jaw clenched. “I’m going to make my own name,” he said firmly. “I don’t care about his legacy. I just want to prove that I deserve to exist.”
Y/N frowned slightly at that but didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “Well, lucky for you, you’re not him. You’re Ace. And Ace is an idiot, but a strong idiot.” She grinned. “So you’ll probably be fine.”
Ace rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He looked at her for a moment before nudging her foot with his sandal. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Ace narrowed his eyes slightly. “You never talk about your family.”
Y/N’s smile didn’t waver, but there was something more guarded in her gaze now. “Not much to talk about.”
Ace didn’t buy it, but he waited.
She exhaled, plucking a blade of grass from the ground and twisting it between her fingers. “Never knew my mom. My dad—” She twirled the grass once more, then let it go, watching the wind carry it away. “Well. He wasn’t exactly the nurturing type.”
Ace frowned. “You mean he—”
“He wasn’t there,” she cut in, voice light but firm.
Ace studied her carefully, then glanced down at his hands. “You know who he is, though?”
A slow smirk curled at Y/N’s lips. “I do.”
Ace’s brow furrowed. “You ever think about finding him?”
Y/N chuckled, leaning back again. “I think if he wanted to find me, he would’ve done it already.”
Ace hesitated. “…Do you hate him?”
Y/N hummed, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hate’s a strong word. Let’s just say—” Her gaze flickered toward the fire, something sharp and knowing in her eyes. “Some fathers are just easier to claim than others.”
Ace didn’t miss the weight in her words. He wanted to ask more, to press for answers, but he also knew better. Y/N would talk when she wanted to. Until then, he’d let her keep her secrets. Still, as they sat there, the fire crackling between them, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she understood him better than most.
—————————————————————
The campfire crackled softly as night fell over the forest. The day’s brutal training left Luffy sprawled out on the ground, groaning in exhaustion, while Ace and Y/N sat by the flames, tending to their minor bruises. Garp had left them alone for the night, probably off eating enough food to feed a village.
For a while, no one spoke, the silence thick with exhaustion. Then, Ace broke it. “Today kinda sucked,” he muttered, poking the fire with a stick.
Luffy groaned from the ground. “It sucked a lot.”
Y/N chuckled, rolling her shoulders. “At least we survived. Barely.”
Ace huffed a small laugh but didn’t say anything else. His expression had shifted, his usual fire dimmed. Y/N noticed immediately. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “What’s with the face?”
Ace hesitated before sighing. “I was just thinking… if Sabo were here, he’d probably call us idiots for putting up with this training.”
At the mention of the name, Luffy sat up. “Sabo wouldn’t let Gramps hit him, though! He was way too fast!”
Y/N tilted her head. “Sabo…?”
Ace glanced at her before staring back at the fire. “Yeah. Our brother.”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Brother?”
Ace gave a small smirk. “Not by blood. But that didn’t matter.”
Luffy nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! Me, Ace, and Sabo—brothers forever! We even did a sake cup thingy to prove it!”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So, you two already had a third member in your little troublemaker gang?”
Ace chuckled. “Yeah. Back then, we were just kids, dreaming about setting out to sea together.”
Y/N noticed how his tone softened. How something heavy sat behind his words.
Ace clenched his fists, staring hard into the fire. “The nobles destroyed his ship. He… didn’t make it.”
Silence fell between them. The flickering flames cast shadows across Ace’s face, his expression unreadable, but Y/N could see the tension in his jaw. The way Luffy hugged his knees, eyes downcast. Y/N looked between them, then stared at the fire. “You guys must’ve really loved him.”
Ace’s fingers dug into his palms. “Of course, we did.”
Luffy sniffed, rubbing his nose. “He was our brother.”
Y/N was quiet for a moment before shifting, leaning back on her hands. “Then I guess I’ll have to be extra strong. To make up for the brother you lost.”
Both boys looked at her, surprised.
She smirked, looking at the stars. “You said you wanted me in your crew, right? Well, if we’re gonna take on the world together, I’ll be strong enough to stand beside you both. No matter what.”
Ace blinked, then exhaled, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
“…Yeah. You better be.”
Luffy grinned. “We’ll all be strong enough! No one’s gonna stop us!”
—————————————————————
The fire crackled as the three of them sat together, a quiet understanding settling between them. The pain of loss lingered, but so did something else—something warmer. They weren’t just friends anymore. They were family.
Another year had passed on Dawn Island, and things had changed. Luffy had gotten taller, Y/N had gotten stronger, and Ace... Well, Ace had gotten more frustrated. Not because he wasn’t improving—he was. He was fast, strong, and sharper than ever. But there was one thing that set him apart from the other two, and Y/N never let him forget it.
He was the only one without a Devil Fruit.
"Alright, Who’s up?" Y/N stretched, her movements fluid and teasing. The sun glinted off her necklace, the one she never let out of her sight. The way she carried herself, so sure and effortless, made Ace’s heartbeat stutter—not that he’d ever admit it.
"Me!" Luffy grinned, already bouncing on his feet. "Gomu Gomu no—"
"Not you," Y/N cut in with a smirk. "Ace could use the practice. You know, as the only one here who's still a regular human?"
Ace twitched. "Oi."
Luffy snorted, barely containing his laughter as he stretched his arm to grab another hunk of meat. "She’s got a point, Ace. You don’t have any cool powers."
Ace scowled. "Yeah? Well, I don’t see either of you winning against me in a fair fight!"
Y/N gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh no, whatever will I do without my Devil Fruit? It’s almost like I have skills."
Luffy grinned. "I dunno, Y/N. Pretty sure you’d be weaker without your powers."
She rolled her eyes. "Says the guy who only fights with his Devil Fruit."
Ace scoffed, arms crossed, but his focus was entirely on Y/N. The way she looked at him—not as someone she needed, not as someone she relied on, but as someone she could stand above—made his frustration burn hotter.
She always teased him, always laughed at his expense, but Ace wasn’t blind. There was a difference between the way she treated him and the way she treated Luffy. Luffy was her little brother—he could tell. But him?
Sometimes, Ace thought there might be something else. Other times, he figured she just liked getting under his skin. Y/N snickered, tilting her head. "You could always go out and get one, y'know. Maybe you'll find a really cool fruit."
Luffy lit up. "Ooh! What if he gets one that makes him a fish? He wouldn’t even be able to swim anymore!"
Y/N's grin widened. "I was thinking something funnier, like..." She tapped a finger to her chin. "A fruit that turns him into a chicken!"
Luffy burst into laughter, nearly choking on his food. "Baka Baka no Mi!"
Ace glared, his ears turning red. "You two are the worst."
Y/N leaned forward, smirking. "Just say the word, Ace, and I’ll grow you a fruit myself. Maybe I can make it taste extra nasty, just for you."
That damn smirk. Ace gritted his teeth. Why did she have to smile like that? Why did she have to look so—so—
He shook his head, standing up abruptly. "Yeah, no thanks," he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "I don’t need a Devil Fruit to beat you."
She only hummed, her smirk not fading. "I guess we’ll see about that."
And as they started their sparring match, with Luffy cheering and Y/N laughing every time she dodged him, Ace couldn’t shake the thought: If I did have a Devil Fruit… would she stop looking at me like that? Would she take me seriously? Would she—finally—see me the way I was starting to see her?
The fire crackled softly in the dim light of the evening, casting flickering shadows over the trees. Luffy lay sprawled on the ground, arms behind his head, a half-eaten piece of meat balanced on his stomach. Ace sat nearby, poking at the fire with a stick, his jaw clenched slightly tighter than usual.
Luffy noticed.
He always noticed, even if people thought he was too dumb to pick up on things. And lately, Ace had been acting… weird. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made Luffy squint at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then, Y/N’s laughter rang out from where she sat sharpening her blade a little ways off, and Ace—who had been perfectly still—suddenly stiffened, his grip on the stick tightening.
Luffy blinked. Oh. He grinned.
"Ohhh, I get it," Luffy said, sitting up.
Ace shot him a glance. "Hah?"
"You like her!"
Ace nearly choked on air. "What?! No, I don’t!" His face went red, and he shoved Luffy’s hat down over his eyes. "Shut up, idiot!"
Luffy pushed his hat back up, laughing. "You totally do!"
Ace turned away, crossing his arms. "Tch. You don’t know what you’re talking about."
Luffy tilted his head, grinning wider. "Then why do you always get all mad when she teases you?"
"I get mad because she’s annoying!"
"But you don’t get that mad when I do it."
Ace opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing Luffy had a point.
Luffy rocked back and forth, humming. "And you stare at her a lot."
"I do not—!"
"You do."
Ace groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Luffy, drop it."
Luffy didn’t drop it. "You wanna kiss her, don’tcha?"
Ace nearly set himself on fire. "WHAT?!"
Luffy laughed so hard he fell backward. "Hahaha! You totally do! Ace and Y/N, sittin’ in a tree—"
Ace tackled him. "SHUT UP!"
The two wrestled, Luffy still cackling while Ace tried to strangle the life out of him—not that it worked, since Luffy was basically rubber. Eventually, Ace gave up, flopping onto his back, scowling at the sky.
Luffy, still grinning, peeked over at him. "So? Are you gonna tell her?"
Ace didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted over to where Y/N was, watching as she absentmindedly twirled the blade Kou had given her, her focus sharp, her smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
She was always teasing, always pushing, always one step ahead. And Ace… Ace didn’t know if she’d ever take him seriously. He sighed. "Doubt she’d care even if I did."
Luffy blinked. "Why not?"
Ace shrugged, gaze distant. "She doesn’t need anyone."
Luffy frowned, thinking. "Yeah, but… needing someone and liking someone are different things."
Ace’s breath hitched slightly. He glanced at Luffy, who had a rare, thoughtful look on his face. Then, Luffy grinned again. "But I guess if you’re too scared—"
Ace smacked him.
The sun had nearly set, bathing the trees in a warm glow. Ace sat on a low branch, arms folded, watching as Y/N stretched lazily on the ground. Luffy was off somewhere getting more food to stuff his face, leaving just the two of them in the clearing.
Y/N exhaled, draping herself across the grass. "Y'know, I think I like you, Ace."
Ace nearly fell out of the tree. He caught himself at the last second, gripping the branch so hard his knuckles turned white. His head snapped down toward her. "W-What?!"
Y/N rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, an amused glint in her eyes. "What, too much for you?" She smirked. "You always get so flustered when I tease you. I figured I'd just get it out of the way."
Ace’s brain short-circuited. His heart was pounding, and he couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
"You… you're messing with me." His voice wasn't as steady as he wanted it to be.
She gave a dramatic sigh. "I could be." She tapped her chin. "Or maybe I'm serious, and this is just my way of seeing how much of a chicken you are."
Ace scowled, heat creeping up his neck. "I'm not a chicken."
Y/N grinned. "Then prove it."
He froze. "Huh?"
She sat up, resting her chin on her palm. "If I actually liked you, what would you do?"
Ace opened his mouth, then closed it. His brain was working at half speed, caught somewhere between she’s joking, she’s totally joking and but what if she’s not? Y/N watched him struggle, and her smirk softened—just a little. "Relax, firefly," she murmured. "I wouldn’t make it that easy for you."
Ace gulped. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
She stood, brushing dirt off her clothes. "Guess you’ll have to figure it out."
And with that, she turned and walked off, leaving Ace sitting there, heart hammering, face burning, and brain officially fried. Luffy returned a minute later, mouth full of meat. He took one look at Ace’s expression and grinned.
"She got you good, huh?"
Ace was doomed.
He’d fought against it, denied it, and tried to ignore it—but after another year of Y/N’s teasing smirks, effortless strength, and the way she just fit beside them like she’d always belonged… there was no point pretending anymore.
He was in love.
It wasn’t just a crush, not anymore.Not when his heart raced whenever she threw an arm around his shoulders after a fight, or how he found himself staring when she laughed—really laughed, the kind she only did when she let her guard down. It was in the quiet moments, too, when she wasn’t teasing or fighting but just there, beside him, completely comfortable in his presence.
And it was driving him insane.
"You're making that stupid face again."
Ace snapped out of his daze to find Y/N leaning against a tree, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face. He scowled. "What face?"
She grinned. "That one. The 'I’m thinking too hard but don’t wanna admit it' face."
"I don’t have a face like that," he grumbled, crossing his arms.
"You so do." She pushed off the tree and sauntered closer. "What’s got you all broody? Luffy steal your food again?"
Ace rolled his eyes. "I’m not broody."
Y/N tilted her head, studying him. "Then what? You’ve been weird lately."
His stomach flipped. "I’m not weird."
"Debatable." She smirked. "But seriously, what’s up with you?"
Ace hesitated. He wanted to say something—maybe not everything, but something. He looked at her, at the way the sunlight caught the edges of her hair, the familiar mischief in her eyes. She was waiting.
So he did what he always did when she got too close to the truth. He smirked. "Just thinking about how I’m gonna beat you in our next fight."
Y/N raised a brow. "Oh? Bold of you to assume you can."
"I will," he shot back. "You won’t be able to rely on your Devil Fruit forever."
She scoffed, poking his chest. "Neither will you, firefly. Oh wait, you still don’t have one!"
Ace groaned. "I hate you."
Y/N laughed, stepping back. "No, you don’t."
She said it so easily, so confidently, like she knew him better than he knew himself. And the worst part? She was right, and Ace should’ve seen it coming.
Y/N had a way of getting under his skin, slipping past his defenses with a teasing grin and sharp words that lingered long after she said them. It was infuriating. It was addicting. And it was dangerous. Ace was drowning in feelings he wasn’t ready to name, and Y/N? She knew.
Ace wasn’t sure when it happened—when maybe turned into definitely, when I might like you turned into something heavier, something that sat deep in his chest and refused to leave. But he knew one thing for sure: He loved Y/N.
And it was driving him insane.
She still teased him like it was a game, still threw maybe at him with a knowing smile, still left him wondering if she was serious or just playing around. But Ace wasn’t a fool—he could see it, the way her gaze softened when she thought he wasn’t looking, the way she lingered just a little longer when they sat side by side, the way she always had some quip ready to throw at him but never actually pushed him away.
Tonight was no different. The fire crackled between them, Luffy snoring a few feet away, blissfully unaware of the battle happening in Ace’s head. Y/N went back to leaning against a tree, absentmindedly playing with a petal from one of her conjured flowers, looking every bit as confident as ever.
"You’ve been staring, firefly," she said without looking up.
Ace tensed. "I have not."
"You have." She smirked, twirling the petal between her fingers. "You got something to say, or are you just gonna keep brooding over there?"
Ace exhaled sharply. "Yeah, actually, I do."
Y/N raised a brow, intrigued. "Oh? This should be good."
His heart was pounding, but he was tired of maybe. Tired of wondering, of pretending it wasn’t already too late for him. So he just said it.
"I love you."
Y/N froze. The petal slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground, forgotten. For once, she didn’t have a witty comeback.
Ace swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he forced himself to keep going, to mean it. "And I don’t mean maybe. I don’t mean who knows. I love you, Y/N." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "And it’s really annoying, honestly, because you never make things easy, but I don’t care. I love you anyway."
Silence.
Then, slowly, Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into something between a smirk and something softer. "Wow," she murmured. "Look at you, all bold and brave."
Ace groaned. "Don’t—"
"I like it."
His breath hitched. "You—?"
She pushed off the tree, stepping closer, stopping just a breath away. "Took you long enough."
And then, finally, finally, she grinned—genuine and warm, without any teasing edge. Ace felt his entire world tilt.
Y/N let out a quiet chuckle before settling down beside Ace, close enough that their shoulders brushed. She didn’t say anything, didn’t throw another teasing remark his way. Instead, she let her head rest lightly against him, her warmth steady against his side.
Ace hesitated for only a moment before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her in just enough to hold her there. She didn’t resist. They sat in silence, watching the fire crackle and flicker in the dark, the flames reflecting in their eyes.
For once, there were no jokes, no maybe, no games. Just them. Just this.
And for Ace, that was enough.
After Ace’s confession, things didn’t change as much as one might expect—at least, not outwardly.
Y/N still teased him mercilessly, and Ace still grumbled and flushed at her words. Luffy still remained oblivious to it all, claiming Y/N as his sister while Ace tried (and failed) to ignore how much he wished for more than that.
But something had shifted.
There were moments now—small, fleeting things that no one else would notice. The way Ace’s hand would linger just a second longer when helping Y/N up. The way her teasing would soften at the edges when it was just the two of them. The way their bickering felt less like a fight and more like an excuse to stay close.
Ace loved her. That much was certain.
But Y/N? She never gave him a straight answer. Instead, she would smile, tilt her head, and say things like, "Maybe I like you. Maybe I don't. Maybe you'll never know."
And it drove Ace insane.
Luffy, of course, found the whole thing hilarious.
“You’re the only one making this hard on yourself, y’know,” Luffy would say, grinning as he watched Ace scowl. “Y/N likes you. Probably. Maybe. Who knows?”
Ace would groan, burying his face in his hands as Luffy laughed.
But even with the uncertainty, even with the teasing, Ace never doubted one thing—Y/N was a part of his life now. A part of him.
And for as long as she stayed, he would take whatever she gave.
A month had passed since Ace confessed his love for Y/N. He didn’t push her for an answer, didn’t demand anything from her. Instead, he carried on like always—bickering with Luffy, training with her, laughing at her teasing—but there was something different.
He watched her more closely, always aware of her presence. The way she smiled at him, the way she touched his arm when she laughed—it all made his heart pound. But she never said anything, never hinted at whether she felt the same. And Ace, for all his confidence, was starting to wonder if he had been too reckless in telling her how he felt.
Then, one night, as they sat in the treehouse, watching the stars light up the dark sky, she spoke.
"You know," Y/N mused, hugging her knees to her chest, "I’ve been thinking about what you said."
Ace tensed. His fingers curled into the blanket beside him, but he kept his expression neutral. "Yeah?"
She turned her head to look at him, eyes glimmering with something unreadable. "Yeah," she said lightly. Then, after a pause, she smirked, bumping her shoulder against his. "I suppose I should tell you—"
Ace held his breath.
"—that I love you too."
For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind blowing. Then Ace exhaled sharply, like he had been holding onto something for far too long. His face broke into a wide, almost disbelieving grin. "Took you long enough," he muttered, but his voice was rough with emotion.
Y/N chuckled, tilting her head. "What can I say? I like to keep you on your toes."
Ace didn't hesitate—he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her in a tight, secure embrace. Y/N sighed against him, her body melting into his warmth as she rested her chin on his shoulder. They sat like that for a while, their fingers loosely intertwined. No teasing, no doubts—just the quiet certainty that they belonged to each other.
Under the Starlit Sky. The fire crackled softly, embers floating into the night sky as the three of them sat around it, bellies full from dinner. The air was thick with summer warmth, the kind that made the sea breeze feel like a gentle whisper against their skin.
Ace sat beside Y/N, their shoulders brushing in a way that felt intentional but unspoken. Their hands rested near each other on the ground, fingers occasionally grazing but never fully intertwining—at least not while Luffy was still paying attention.
Luffy, sprawled on his back, stared up at the sky with a contemplative look that didn’t suit him. “So… you guys are really in love, huh?” he asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence.
Y/N smirked, tilting her head. “Why? Jealous?”
Luffy made a disgusted noise, sitting up abruptly. “No way! It’s just weird.” He looked between them, squinting. “You guys are all mushy now.”
Ace scoffed. “We are not mushy.”
Luffy pointed at their hands, which were now suspiciously close. “You’re literally holding hands right now.”
Ace jerked back like he’d been caught stealing, cheeks burning. Y/N, however, simply laced her fingers through his, grinning. “And?” she challenged, daring Luffy to say something.
Luffy gagged. “Gross.”
Y/N only laughed, while Ace rubbed the back of his head, flustered but secretly pleased. Luffy flopped onto his back again, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “Ugh. you two are making heart eyes at each other. This is the worst.”
Y/N leaned closer to Ace, voice dropping to a whisper. “Should we tell him we’ve been together for weeks now?”
Ace smirked. “Nah, let him suffer.”
Luffy groaned louder. “I can hear you, you know!”
Y/N snickered, resting her head against Ace’s shoulder. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”
Ace glanced down at her, his heart feeling impossibly full. “Yeah,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “Guess he will.”
And under the watchful gaze of the fire, the three of them remained—Ace and Y/N side by side, and Luffy grumbling, but still there, where he belonged.
The salty breeze from the ocean mixed with the sound of the jungle behind them, carrying the weight of unspoken words. Y/N sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her gaze locked on the horizon.
“I’ve decided,” she said finally, breaking the silence.
Ace, sitting beside her, turned to her immediately. His fingers twitched against his knee, but he said nothing. Luffy, however, barely looked up from his meal, stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“About what?” Luffy asked through a mouthful of meat.
Y/N smirked, rolling her eyes at his usual antics before exhaling. “I’m setting sail with Ace.”
Luffy paused mid-bite. Ace, on the other hand, looked like she’d just smacked him over the head.
“With me?” Ace asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Y/N turned to face him fully. “For a year,” she clarified, smiling slightly. “After that, I’ll set out on my own for two years and then come back and sail with Luffy.”
For a long moment, Ace just stared at her, lips slightly parted as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.
Luffy, however, broke the silence with an excited yell. “Wait, really?!” He jumped up, food forgotten. “You’re gonna come back and join my crew?”
Y/N chuckled at his enthusiasm. “That’s what I said, Captain.”
Luffy’s grin stretched wide. “This is awesome! You’re gonna get so strong sailing with Ace, and then when I start my journey, we’ll be unstoppable!” He started bouncing on his heels, looking between them with uncontainable excitement.
Ace, meanwhile, finally seemed to catch up to the moment. A slow, disbelieving smile stretched across his face, his shoulders relaxing. “You really want to?”
She nudged him playfully. “What, you think I’d let you run off and have all the fun without me?”
Ace let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to make you feel like you had to.”
Y/N softened, tilting her head. “I’m not doing this because I have to. I want to.”
Ace’s grin widened, something undeniably happy lighting up his expression. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her in a quick, firm hug.
Luffy, still bouncing with energy, practically tackled them both, wrapping his arms around them. “This is the best! We’re all gonna be the strongest pirates ever!”
Y/N laughed, ruffling his hair. “That’s the plan.”
Ace huffed a laugh, shaking his head but making no effort to pull away. “Guess we’d better make this year count, huh?”
Y/N met his gaze, her own eyes filled with certainty. “Yeah. We will.”
Luffy pumped his fist in the air. “And when I turn seventeen, we’ll all be pirates and take on the world!”
The fire crackled between them, but the promise they made burned even brighter.
The docks of Dawn Island were quieter than usual, the soft crash of waves against the shore filling the space between them. The sun hung low, casting golden light over the three of them—Ace, Y/N, and Luffy—standing together for the last time for who knew how long.
Luffy’s arms were crossed, his usual grin slightly dimmed, though his excitement for the future still sparked in his eyes. “You guys are really leaving, huh?”
Ace smirked. “Yeah, but we’ll see you again, Luffy. And by then, you better be stronger.”
Luffy puffed out his chest. “I will be! I’m gonna be the Pirate King, after all!”
Y/N chuckled, stepping forward and ruffling his hair. “That’s my little brother,” she teased. “You better keep up, Straw Hat.”
Luffy swatted at her hand but grinned. “And you better take care of Ace.”
Y/N turned to Ace with a slow, knowing smile. “Oh, don’t worry. I plan to take very good care of him.”
Ace sputtered, his ears turning red, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. “Like I need you looking after me.”
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the tattoo on his arm before trailing down to his wrist. “Mmm, I don’t know… you can be a bit reckless.” Her voice was honeyed, teasing. “Who’s going to make sure you don’t get yourself killed?”
Ace swallowed, his posture stiffening for half a second before he forced himself to roll his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
Y/N smirked, leaning in just enough for her breath to tickle his ear. “And yet, you love me.”
Ace clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure, but the corner of his lips twitched upward. “Unfortunately.”
Luffy made a disgusted noise. “Blegh! Stop being weird!”
Y/N threw her head back with a laugh, then turned to face Luffy one last time. “Alright, Monkey. Take care of yourself, alright?”
Luffy gave her a thumbs-up. “I will! You guys better not slack off either!”
Ace and Y/N grinned.
Then, with one final nod, they turned toward their ship.
Ace hesitated at the edge of the dock, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ll see you again, Luffy.”
Luffy grinned wide, unwavering. “Yeah! And when we do, I’ll be even stronger than both of you!”
Ace let out a short laugh before stepping onto the ship, Y/N right behind him. As the sails unfurled and the boat drifted away from shore, she watched Luffy grow smaller in the distance, her heart tugging just slightly.
Ace sighed, leaning against the railing. “He’s gonna be fine.”
Y/N nodded. “Yeah… but I’ll still miss him.”
Ace turned to her, his expression softening as he reached out, gently pulling her closer by the wrist. “Guess I’ll just have to distract you then.”
Y/N’s lips curled into a slow smirk. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Captain?”
Ace rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of her wrist. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
She hummed, stepping into his space, their bodies almost touching. “Well, you’d better. Otherwise, I might just get bored.”
Ace let out a breath, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Y/N grinned. “And yet, you love me.”
This time, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he simply pulled her into his side, letting the warmth between them speak for itself as they sailed into the unknown together.
The sea was calm that evening, the waves lapping gently against the ship’s hull as the sky darkened into a canvas of twinkling stars. The ship had docked at a quiet island, far from the chaos of the Grand Line, a rare moment of peace in their journey.
Ace had been acting strange all day—distracted, fidgety, and suspiciously avoiding Y/N’s teasing glances. When he finally told her to meet him on the shore after sunset, she had raised a curious brow but agreed nonetheless.
Now, standing on the beach, Y/N let the soft ocean breeze play with her hair as she admired the lantern-lit setup before her. A blanket was laid out on the sand, with a spread of food and a bottle of sake beside it. The warm glow of the lanterns flickered, casting Ace in a golden hue as he stood there, hands on his hips, looking like he was trying very hard not to appear nervous.
Y/N tilted her head, smirking. “Ace… did you plan a date?”
Ace rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “Maybe.”
She chuckled, stepping closer. “Look at you. Getting all romantic.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but his ears were already burning red.
She took a seat on the blanket, looking up at him expectantly. “Are you gonna sit, or do I have to pull you down myself?”
He huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed something from his pocket and held it out to her. “Here.”
Y/N blinked, looking at the small, carefully wrapped item in his palm. “What’s this?”
“Just take it.”
Curious, she took the gift and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a delicate bracelet, crafted from black cord and accented with tiny silver charms—one shaped like a flame and the other like a rose. Y/N stared at it, her usual witty remarks momentarily failing her. “Ace…”
Ace fidgeted, avoiding her gaze. “I, uh… I saw it in a market a few weeks ago and thought it suited you.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant. “It’s nothing fancy, but…”
Y/N turned the bracelet in her hands, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “It’s perfect.”
Ace finally met her eyes. “Yeah?”
She nodded before slipping it onto her wrist, admiring how it fit perfectly. Then, without warning, she lunged forward, knocking him onto his back as she hovered over him, grinning.
Ace sputtered. “What the hell—?!”
Y/N leaned down, her voice warm. “You’re so sweet when you’re not trying to act all cool, y’know that?”
Ace groaned, turning his head to the side. “I regret this already.”
She laughed before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “No, you don’t.”
His grip on her waist tightened slightly. “…No, I don’t.”
They spent the rest of the night there, eating, talking, and basking in the quiet peace of just being together. The stars above them bore witness to their laughter, to the warmth between them, and to a love that, no matter where their journeys took them, would never fade.
The docks were quiet now, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows over the wooden planks. The salty breeze curled around them, tousling Ace’s dark hair and making them dance in the wind. Her small boat was ready, tied to the dock, waiting to carry her into the unknown.
Ace stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, the weight of their impending goodbye pressing down on them both. The silver charm she had given him now rested against his bare chest, the leather cord snug around his neck. He hadn’t taken it off since she fastened it there.
“So,” he said, voice lighter than he felt, “this is it.”
“For now,” Y/N corrected, a playful glint in her eyes. “Won't be long till we cross paths again.”
Ace huffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”
Y/N smirked, stepping closer. “Gonna miss me?”
“Obviously.” His answer was immediate, with no hesitation.
She tilted her head up at him, fingers tracing the edge of his necklace. “You better not go falling for anyone else while I’m gone.”
Ace scoffed. “Like that’s even possible.”
For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything unsaid resting between them. Ace’s crew gave them space, lingering farther down the dock, pretending not to watch. Y/N inhaled deeply before exhaling, the teasing glint in her eyes softening into something more vulnerable. “I’ll come back.”
Ace nodded. “I know.”
But he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. Before she could pull away, he reached for her, his hand warm as it cradled her face. Y/N’s breath caught, just for a second, before she leaned in, her hands resting lightly on his chest.
And then, she kissed him.
It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but it carried all the things neither of them could put into words. A promise. A reminder. A tether between them, even as the sea threatened to pull them apart. Ace sighed into the kiss, his grip tightening just slightly like he wanted to keep her there forever. But Y/N was never one to be held down.
When she pulled away, her lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “I’ll see you again, Captain.”
Ace chuckled, though his voice was rough. “Yeah… see you soon.”
With one last glance, Y/N turned and stepped onto her small boat, untying the rope and pushing off into the open water. The waves carried her forward, her silhouette growing smaller against the horizon.
Ace stood there long after she had disappeared from sight, the taste of her still lingering on his lips, the charm she had given him pressed against his heart. They would find each other again.
The Smell of a New Beginning (Why is it so familiar?)
AN: I'm super excited for the next chapter ngl. I tried to do too much with this part, might rewrite it, but hopefully it's still coherent for everyone.
Summary: A glimpse of Y/N's new life with Kou
Pairing: Idk yet
The Smell of a New Beginning (Why is it so familiar?)
The salty breeze stung Y/N’s face as she gripped the railing of the ship, her small hands barely wrapping around the smooth wood. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, its waves rising and falling like a living, breathing thing.
She had never been this far from land before. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
Kou stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel and the other tucked casually into his coat pocket. His coat billowed in the wind, revealing a sheathed blade at his hip. He looked completely at ease, like the sea itself was an old friend.
He teased her over the wind, “still got that look like you’re gonna puke. You seasick already kid?”
Y/N scowled, forcing herself to stand taller. “No.”
Kou chuckled. “Good. Would’ve been a shame if I had to throw you overboard already.”
Her eyes widened in alarm, and he laughed louder. “Relax. You’ll get used to it. First time’s always rough.”
She turned her gaze back to the ocean, watching the waves swirl beneath them. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere,” Kou said simply. “Everywhere.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“To you, maybe.” He grinned. “I’m not like others you might meet on the sea. I don’t care about treasure or ruling the seas. I go where the wind takes me, chasing adventure. Meeting people, finding stories—there’s a whole world out there, kid.”
Y/N tilted her head. “So… you’re not a pirate?”
He scratched his chin, thinking. “Eh. Used to be. Not really my thing anymore.”
She hesitated. “Do you have a crew?”
Kou smirked. “Do you see a crew?”
She looked around. The ship wasn’t big, maybe a little larger than a standard sloop, but it was well-kept. The deck was clean, the sails in good condition, and a single black flag—without any skull or insignia—flapped at the mast. There wasn’t a soul on board besides them.
“…No.”
“Then there’s your answer,” he said.
Her brows furrowed. “So you travel the world alone?”
“Not always.” He leaned against the railing beside her. “Sometimes I pick up strays. People looking for something. When they find it, they move on.”
Y/N looked up at him. “And what about you?”
Kou glanced toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. “Me?” He shrugged. “I haven’t found my reason to stop yet.”
The words sat heavy in the air. Y/N didn’t know why, but something about them stuck with her.
After a moment, Kou pushed off the railing and stretched. “Alright, kid. First rule of being on my ship—pull your weight. No freeloaders.”
She crossed her arms. “What do you want me to do?”
He grinned. “Ever clean a deck before?”
Her face fell.
Kou laughed. “Don’t look so miserable. You want to get stronger? Strength starts with discipline. Besides, you’ll be learning a whole lot more than scrubbing floors.”
Y/N pursed her lips. She wanted to argue, but she had no other options. This ship was her ride towards achieving her goal.
With this in mind she accepted her fate and sighed. “Fine.”
Kou ruffled her hair, much to her annoyance. “Good attitude. Welcome to life at sea, kid.”
As she grabbed a mop and bucket, she couldn’t help but glance back at the endless horizon.
She was finally going somewhere.
After a couple months on the open water, being trained and learning everything Kou had to offer he decided that she was finally ready to face a new challenge and steered the ship towards her next lesson.
The thick canopy overhead barely let any sunlight through, casting the jungle in a dim, eerie green. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something… primal. Something that set Y/N’s nerves on edge. She crouched low, her bare feet silent against the mossy ground, eyes darting between the tangled roots and towering trees. Her small hands clutched a wooden staff—one of Kou’s many training tools—though she doubted it would do much against the creatures lurking in the undergrowth.
A rustle.
A low growl.
Y/N swallowed hard. “Uh… Kou?”
A few feet ahead, Kou stood with his arms crossed, his knife glinting at his side. His expression was unreadable, but she knew that look—he was assessing their surroundings.
“Yeah?” he responded lazily.
“I think something’s watching us.”
“Of course something’s watching us,” he said, smirking. “You think a jungle like this is empty?”
Y/N’s grip on her staff tightened. “Great. Love that.”
Kou let out a small chuckle before stepping forward. His foot barely made a sound—he was always annoyingly good at moving silently. She was still working on that.
Another growl, this time closer.
Then, in a blur of movement, the underbrush exploded.
A beast—no, a monster—leaped from the shadows. Its massive feline body was covered in jet-black fur, its yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Clawed paws slammed against the ground, its mouth parting to reveal rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.
Y/N barely had time to react before Kou moved.
In one swift motion, he grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her out of the way. The creature lunged where she had just stood, claws raking deep into the earth.
She stumbled, caught herself, and spun to face it. “What the hell is that?!”
Kou cracked his knuckles. “Lunch.”
The beast roared.
Kou grinned.
And just like that, he disappeared.
No—not disappear. He was too fast.
Before Y/N could fully process it, he reappeared behind the creature, knife flashing in his hand. A single slash cut across the beast’s side, black fur splitting as blood sprayed into the air.
The jungle fell silent for half a second.
Then the creature howled in pain.
Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched. Kou wasn’t even using Haki yet. He was playing around with it.
The beast whipped around, its claws aiming straight for him.
Y/N reacted before she could think—her hands moved, and vines shot from the ground, wrapping around the creature’s legs. It stumbled, its massive body crashing into the dirt.
Kou glanced at her and smirked. “Nice one, kid.”
Y/N panted, her grip on the staff still tight. “Less talking, more stabbing!”
Kou laughed, spinning his knife between his fingers. “Relax.” He stepped toward the struggling beast, his entire arm darkening with Armament Haki.
A single downward slash.
Silence.
The creature collapsed, unmoving.
Kou flicked the blood off his blade and turned to Y/N. “See? Easy.”
She huffed. “I loosened it for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, I should let you handle the next one?”
Y/N opened her mouth to argue—then shut it when she heard another growl. Then another.
Slowly, she turned her head.
Dozens of glowing eyes stared back at her from the shadows.
“…Kou?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s more.”
He grinned. “Good. I was getting bored.”
Y/N groaned. “I hate you.”
He patted her head. “No, you don’t. Now, try not to die, kid.”
And amongst the jungle erupting into chaos was the sound of hope.
The desert stretched endlessly before them, golden dunes rolling beneath the merciless sun. Y/N’s boots sank into the scorching sand with each step, but she barely noticed. She was focused on the figure ahead of her.
Kou stood near the shore where his small ship bobbed in the water, the gentle waves a stark contrast to the burning wasteland behind them.
“This is where we say goodbye, huh?” Y/N muttered, arms crossed.
Kou gave her a smirk—the same annoying one he always wore when teasing her. “That’s what it looks like.”
Y/N scowled. “Tch. You could at least act sad.”
“I could,” he admitted. “But that wouldn’t change anything.”
She hated that he was right.
For six years, he had been by her side—training her, pushing her to be stronger, protecting her when she needed it (though she would never admit it). He had been the closest thing she had to family. And now, he was leaving.
And she—she was staying behind.
Her fists clenched. “You’re really going to the New World?”
Kou nodded, glancing toward the horizon. “Yeah. There’s a whole world out there, kid. More than just this desert, more than what we’ve seen.”
Y/N swallowed hard. She knew this moment was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.
She forced her voice to stay even. “I’m going to get stronger. So the next time we meet, I won’t need you watching my back.”
Kou chuckled, but there was something softer in it this time. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Then, his smirk faded, just slightly. He reached for his belt, unfastening the worn leather sheath that had always been at his side.
Y/N blinked as he held it out to her. “Here.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she reached out, fingers hesitating before curling around the handle. The weight of it was familiar—too familiar.
“…Why?” Her voice was quieter than she wanted it to be.
Kou shrugged. “Figured you might need it.”
The knife sat heavy in her grip. He had trained her with it, tested her, corrected her stance a hundred times over. This wasn’t just any blade. This was his.
Her grip tightened. “You’re leaving it because I’m strong enough?”
Kou didn’t answer right away. His gaze was steady, unreadable. “I’m leaving it because you will be.”
Y/N’s breath hitched. She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.
If she wasn’t strong enough yet, why was he still leaving?
She looked at the blade, at the small nicks along the handle from years of use.
why did it feel like he was giving her a piece of himself because he wasn’t sure she’d make it without him?
Why was he leaving her?
She didn’t know what to say.
Kou gave a final glance at the horizon before stepping onto his ship.
“Don’t let it rust,” he called over his shoulder.
Y/N stood there, gripping the knife like it was the only thing keeping her together, as the waves carried him away.
Then, she turned back to the desert.
Her journey wasn’t over.
But she couldn’t shake the thought—was she not enough?
Days passed. The sun was cruel, the land barren. Y/N had never felt so alone.
But she couldn’t leave.
This island had been Kou’s last lesson for her—survival, adaptation, perseverance. If she left now, she would be proving that she wasn’t ready. She wouldn’t allow that.
The first days were the hardest. Her Flora-Flora Fruit felt useless in a place like this—there were no forests to command, no vines to shape into weapons.
Then, she found it.
A cactus, standing tall against the heat.
She crouched beside it, pressing her palm against the rough, spiny surface. There was life in it, stubborn and unyielding, unlike the delicate flowers she was used to. It was different, but it was still a plant.
She exhaled, focusing. Slowly, carefully, she willed her power forward.
At first, nothing happened. The cactus resisted her, its structure foreign. But Y/N wasn’t one to give up easily. She studied it, understanding how it clung to survival—its ability to store water, its slow but steady growth.
She mimicked it.
Her fingers dug into the sand, and this time, when she reached out with her power, she didn’t force it. She let it flow, adjusting to the needs of the desert.
The ground trembled.
Tiny green sprouts pushed up through the dry soil, spiny and rough but very much alive.
Y/N grinned. “Gotcha.”
It wasn’t like the roses she could shape with ease—this was something new, something she had to learn from scratch. But as hours passed, she improved, growing patches of cacti, using their ability to store water to her advantage.
She worked tirelessly, her small successes fueling her determination.
After days full of effort, she finally did it.
Her first fully grown cactus stood tall, its thick green body covered in tough spines, roots digging deep to find hidden moisture.
She wasn’t done yet.
More followed—clusters of them sprouting in a ring, shaping a foundation for something greater.
Then came the hardest part.
Water.
She closed her eyes, drawing on everything she had learned. She guided the roots deeper, further than before, chasing the hidden pockets of water beneath the sand.
The air around her felt heavier.
Then, suddenly—
A trickle of water seeped through the cracks in the earth, pooling at the base of her cacti.
Her breath hitched. She had done it.
She had created life in a place seemingly designed to take it away.
She stepped back, surveying her work.
An oasis.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.
Y/N wiped the sweat from her forehead, exhaling slowly. She glanced toward the horizon, where Kou had disappeared weeks ago.
He would be proud.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“This isn’t goodbye forever,” she murmured.
She turned back to her oasis, determination burning in her chest. She would continue to grow, to push herself beyond her limits.
Because one day, when she and Kou crossed paths again—
She would be strong enough to stand beside him, not behind him.
A/N: Helloo, I wanted to write so I did. Hopefully you guys like it and hopefully I improve as the story continues. I have an idea of how I want this story to go but you never know lol. If anyone has any idea what I should name this series.. feel free (though I guess you need more information first)
Pairing: No Idea yet
One piece x Strawhat!Reader
A tiny girl sat alone in an alley, knees pulled to her chest, shivering underneath the faint light of the moon. The town was silent at this hour, save for the distant laughter of drunken pirates and the occasional murmur of the tide. Her stomach ached from hunger, but she was used to that by now.
She clutched at a hairpin—a simple yet intricate and traditional design, its once-polished shiny surface now dulled with time and lack of care. It was the only thing she had left of him. The man who had given it to her had long since disappeared, just like everyone else in her life.
Her fingers traced the pin, eyes dull. What had she done wrong?
She had waited. At first, she believed he would come back for her. That maybe, just maybe, he had a reason for leaving. But then days turned to weeks, then months. And the realization had settled in like a slow-growing weed in her chest.
He was never coming back.
A rat scurried nearby, sniffing at an abandoned scrap of bread. The girl licked her dry lips, watching as the creature tore into it. She should have stolen food earlier. But the last time she tried, she’d been caught and beaten for it.
She was getting tired of fighting. Desperation rarely ever leads anywhere but to one door, surrender.
The night air carried the scent of salt and roses—roses she had grown, once, before she learned they couldn’t fill her stomach. Before she realized her power was useless if she didn’t know how to wield it.
A gust of wind brushed against her cheek, and for a brief moment, she thought she heard a voice.
"You’re still here? I told you to scram, brat."
She tensed. The owner of that voice was a merchant, the one who had thrown her out when she begged for work. He didn’t care that she was starving. That she had nowhere to go.
"Kids like you don’t last long. Better to give up now."
She exhaled sharply, gripping the hairpin so tightly it bit into her palm.
No.
She wasn’t going to die in some filthy alley. She refused be forgotten like a wilted flower discarded in the dirt. If no one would save her, then she’d save herself.
Slowly, she pushed herself up, knees trembling from exhaustion.
The hunger in her stomach was unbearable. But the hunger in her soul was worse.
She would survive.
She would become powerful.
So powerful that no one could ever abandon her again.
And when the day came that she saw him again—the man who left her behind—she would make sure he regretted it.
Even if it meant crushing the past beneath her own two feet.
Making her way down the alley, mindful of alerting anyone to her presence, Y/N headed towards the port. Hopeful the pirates were all at the tavern drinking and celebrating their latest conquest.
The silence is seemingly teasing her when she arrives, seemingly no sign of life around. Good. Maybe she’ll be able to steal some food from the ships that were docked.
Y/N allowed a small smile to grace her face. It seems lady luck has graced her for once.
She took a step forward—then stopped.
Someone was there. Guess lady luck wasn't on her side after all.
A shadow loomed over her, and instinctively, she tensed, ready to run. But then, a warm voice spoke.
“Easy, kid. I’m not here to hurt you.”
She blinked. The man in front of her crouched to her level, arms resting lazily on his knees. He wasn’t dressed like the usual merchants or pirates she avoided. His clothes were simple, but something was commanding about his presence—something familiar.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, the man sighed. “You look like hell.”
She scowled. “Thanks.”
He chuckled, reaching into his coat. She flinched, but instead of a weapon, he pulled out a wrapped bundle. He tossed it to her, and on reflex, she caught it. The smell hit her instantly.
Bread. Fresh.
Her stomach twisted with need, but she hesitated. The man tilted his head. “You gonna eat, or are you too proud for handouts?”
Y/N clenched her jaw. She hated accepting things from strangers. She loathes the idea of owing anyone.
But she was starving.
Slowly, she unwrapped the bread and took a cautious bite. Warm. Soft. For a moment, she thought she might cry.
The man watched her silently before leaning back to sit. “So,” he said, almost casually, “what’s a kid like you doing out here alone?”
She swallowed hard, already regretting eating in front of him. It made her feel vulnerable. “None of your business.”
“Fair enough.” He stretched his arms. “Name’s—” He stopped, studying her for a second. Then, with a slight smirk, he corrected himself. “Call me Kou.”
She frowned. “That your real name?”
“Does it matter?”
She huffed, taking another bite. The silence stretched between them until he spoke again.
“Got a name, kid?”
She debated lying. But then, what was the point?
“…Y/N.”
Kou nodded as if filing the name away. “You got anyone looking for you?”
She stiffened. “No.”
He didn’t press, though she could feel his gaze studying her. Finally, he let out a breath. “Alright. Then what’s your plan?”
She frowned. “What?”
“Your plan,” he repeated. “Are you planning on starving in alleys for the rest of your life? Or you got something bigger in mind?”
Y/N stared at him. She had never been asked that before.
Her plan?
She had spent so long just trying to survive that she hadn’t thought beyond that. But now…
“I want to be strong.” The words came out before she could stop them. But they felt right.
Kou’s lips quirked into a smirk. “That so?”
She nodded. “Strong enough that no one can leave me behind.”
Something flickered in his expression—something knowing. But he didn’t pry, simply stating, “Good answer.”
He stood, stretching. “Well, if you’re serious, you should stop wasting your time here.” He turned, walking a few steps before glancing over his shoulder. “Come on, kid.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
“I’ve got a ship.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Could use someone with a little fight in ‘em.”
She hesitated. Trust wasn’t something she gave freely.
But… something about him felt different.
And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel entirely alone.
She clenched her fist. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she followed.
The flower had been trampled. But it refused to wilt.
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