Hi! Can i make a request of Zoro x fem reader where they sleep with eachother (the innocent way LOL) to ease nightmares and they like eachother but haven't confessed yet and Zoro has a dream of reader pregnant with his child... and he realizes it's time to tell her how he feels đđ»đ„° please and thankyouđž
The request is a bit long hahahaha but thankyou anywayđđđ
The Weight of a Dream
Song: Often - The Weeknd
Authorâs note: If you enjoyed reading this, Iâd love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the word! đ«¶
The rhythmic creaking of the Thousand Sunny was usually a lullaby, a testament to the ship cutting through the New Worldâs unpredictable currents. But for Roronoa Zoro, the sea was no longer enough to quell the firestorm in his mind.
He sat on the deck, his back pressed against the mast, moonlight spilling over his scarred chest. It had been like this for weeksâlong, restless nights where the ghost of a nightmare hovered just behind his eyelids.
Every time he drifted off, he saw blood. He saw swords shattering. He saw the crew falling.
And then, there was you.
You had been the one to notice first. You were the only one who didnât pester him with questions about his lack of sleep or try to force him into a medical checkup like Chopper.
You simply knew. One night, after a particularly grueling voyage through a storm that seemed to last for days, you had sat beside him in silence, offering a canteen of water and a presence that felt like an anchor.
Since then, it had become a silent ritual. You would come to his quarters, or find him on deck, and you would lie down beside him. No words, no expectations, just the steady, grounding presence of someone who cared.
You would fall into a comfortable, innocent embraceâa tangle of limbs designed to stave off the demons of his past.
Tonight, you were already asleep in his narrow bunk, your head resting on his bare shoulder. Zoro lay awake, staring at the rafters. His body was stiff, his heart drummed against his ribs, but he felt a strange, terrifying sense of peace.
He loved you. He had loved you for longer than he dared to admit, burying the feeling under layers of discipline and the singular goal of becoming the worldâs greatest swordsman.
Just a little longer, he told himself. Once the war is over. Once we reach the end of the Grand Line.
His eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the day finally pulling him under. He didnât fight the pull anymore. He let himself sink into the warmth of your side, sliding into the heavy, velvet dark of sleep.
The dream started with silence.
The ship was gone. The sea was gone. He was standing in a small, cozy cottageâsomething he had never craved in his life. The air smelled of woodsmoke and chamomile.
He walked into the living room, his boots making no sound on the floorboards. You were there, standing by a window that looked out over a rolling, green meadow.
You were wearing a loose, soft dress, and you were humming a melody he recognizedâthe one you hummed when you thought he was asleep.
But the sight that stopped the air in his lungs wasn't your smile, or the way the morning light caught your hair. It was the way your hand rested on your stomach. You were heavy with child.
Zoro froze, his breath hitching. In the dream, he didn't feel the usual rigidity of his warriorâs heart. He felt a profound, overwhelming sense of belonging.
He saw himself walk toward you, his large, rough hand coming up to rest beside yours on the swell of your belly. He felt a faint, rhythmic kick against his palmâa spark of life that belonged to both of you.
He looked at you, and you looked back with a gaze so full of unconditional love that it nearly brought him to his knees. He saw his future in your eyes.
He saw the end of his wandering, the end of the blood, and the beginning of something soft, something holy.
"Zoro," you whispered, the sound vibrating through his very soul. "It's time."
Zoro jolted awake, his muscles coiled, ready for a fight.
The silence of the room crashed into him. The moonlight had shifted, casting long, pale fingers across the floor. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged bird.
He looked down. You were still there, curled against him. Your breath was soft, a gentle puff of air against his neck.
The dream felt so vivid, so visceral, that for a split second, he reached out, touching your waist, half-expecting to feel the curve he had witnessed in his vision.
He pulled his hand back as if burned.
It was just a dream, he told himself, though his skin still felt hot where he had imagined your warmth. Just a dream.
But as he stared at youâat the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheek, the way you trusted him enough to sleep in his arms without a shred of doubtâthe lie didn't hold.
The dream wasn't a warning. It was a reflection of the truth he had been hiding even from himself.
He didn't just want to be your shield; he wanted to be your home. He didn't just want to protect you from the horrors of the world; he wanted to build a life with you that was worth protecting.
He shifted, turning slightly to face you. His movements were careful, methodical, trying not to disturb you, but he was overwhelmed by a sudden, fierce clarity.
He was Roronaa Zoro, a man who faced down emperors and warlords without blinking, yet the thought of telling you how he felt made his hands shake.
I can't keep lying to myself, he thought. If I don't tell her, Iâm just waiting for the day I lose the chance.
You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. They were cloudy with sleep, unfocused for a moment until they found his face. You didn't pull away. You didn't tense up. You simply smiled, a small, sleepy arch of your lips that made his chest ache.
"Nightmare?" you whispered, your voice raspy and soft.
Zoro didn't answer right away. He reached out, his thumb brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His hand was rough, calloused from years of gripping a hilt, but his touch was impossibly gentle.
"No," he said, his voice deep and gravelly in the quiet room. "I⊠I had a dream. A different one."
You blinked, leaning into his touch instinctively. "A good one?"
Zoro looked at you, really looked at youânot as a crewmate or a comrade, but as the woman who had become the center of his gravity. He saw the way your heartbeat pulsed at your throat, the way your presence calmed the storm inside him.
He realized then that he couldn't wait for the end of the journey. The journey was too long, and life was too short to spend it in the shadows of "what if."
"It was the best dream Iâve ever had," he said, his gaze locked onto yours. He moved closer, closing the final inch of distance between them. He felt your breath hitch, your eyes widening in realization as his intentions became clear.
"Zoro?" you breathed, a question hanging in the air.
"I've been waiting for the right time," he muttered, his forehead coming to rest against yours. "I thought I had to finish the fight before I could tell you. But I realized⊠Iâve been fighting for this. For you. For a long time."
The air in the room seemed to vibrate with the confession. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your touch grounding him as much as he grounded you.
"You don't have to wait for the end of the world to be happy," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
Zoro let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension of the last several weeks finally draining out of him. He pressed a kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, lingering there, savoring the reality of you.
"I love you," he said, the words feeling like a vow, heavy and absolute. "Iâve loved you for a long time. And I think⊠I think I want everything with you."
As you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, Zoro closed his eyes. The nightmares didn't return. There were no swords, no blood, no distant echoes of battle.
There was only youâyour warmth, your presence, and the quiet, beautiful promise of a future that he finally dared to claim.
In the dark of the ship, with the ocean rocking them gently, Roronaa Zoro finally found the home he had been seeking all his life, tucked safely in the space between your heart and his. . . .
While luffy is being trained by Rayliegh, and reader is being trained by Shakey, they often send letters of how they are, and words of encouragement. But accidentally sends a personal letter of expressing their feeling for him. But reader believes theyâre not worth for him, since they feel like they shouldâve done more to save Ace (reader was sent flying to the whitebeard pirates). Only able to save a few of his beads, hold Luffy hand while he was in surgery, and lend a shoulder to cry. Iâll let you decide how Luffy confess to the reader too
Letters To The Pirate King
Song: Needed Me - Rihanna
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The air on Rusukaina was thick with the scent of ozone, damp earth, and the metallic tang of bloodâboth yours and the beasts you fought daily.
Your training under Shakky was a different kind of hell compared to Rayleighâs tutelage of Luffy, but it was just as grueling. While Luffy was learning to master his Haki amidst forests of giants, you were learning the art of precision, speed, and the kind of tactical observation that Shakky demanded of those who walked in the shadows.
It had been a year since the nightmare at Marineford.
Sometimes, when the moon hung low over the island, your mind would involuntarily drift back to the docks of that blood-soaked bay. You remember the sound of the chains, the heat of the magma, and the crushing, soul-splitting hollow in Luffyâs chest when he realized heâd failed.
You had been sent flying by Kuma to a different sector, scrambling desperately to reach them.
You arrived only in time to scoop up a few of Aceâs obsidian beads that had scattered across the deck after his necklace shattered. You had held Luffyâs hand through the frantic, agonizing surgery on the submarine, his grip so tight it bruised your bones, and in the aftermath, you had sat in the silence of his recovery, offering nothing but your shoulder for him to soak with his tears.
You felt like a failure. You were a stowaway to his destiny, someone who had stood by and watched the world burn. Every day you trained, you did it so you could be strong enough to never let that happen to him again.
The letters were the only thing that kept you anchored.
âI fought a giant lizard today,â Luffyâs messy script would sprawl across the parchment. âRayleigh says Iâm getting better, but Iâm still hungry. Hope youâre eating enough, Y/N. Donât let Shakky work you too hard. Iâll see you soon. Weâre going to be the strongest.â
You would reply, your hand shaking slightly as you dipped the quill. âIâm learning to anticipate the enemyâs heartbeat, Luffy. Keep pushing. Iâm proud of you.â
It was a Tuesday, the air heavy with impending rain, when the mistake happened. You had spent the evening writing a letter to Luffy, fueled by a moment of intense vulnerability after watching a sunset that reminded you of the fire that took Ace.
You had written your heart out, pouring every ounce of the love, the guilt, and the desperate yearning you held for him onto the page.
âIâm not worth this, Luffy,â you had written in the heat of your panic. âI stayed by your side, but I couldnât save him. I only held his beads and your hand. I feel like Iâm just a ghost haunting your grief. But god, I love you. I love you so much it makes it hard to breathe, even when you arenât here. I want to be enough for you, but I fear that I am just a reminder of everything you lost.â
You meant to burn it. You meant to write a polite, encouraging note about training instead. But in your exhaustion, you tucked the wrong letter into the waxed envelope, sealed it with your crest, and handed it to the messenger bird that Shakky kept for your correspondence.
It wasn't until the bird was a speck in the sky that you realized what you had done.
The next three days were a waking nightmare. You contemplated jumping into the ocean and swimming to Rayleighâs island just to intercept the bird, but you knew there was no point.
The damage was done. You had confessed, but worse, you had confessed your deepest insecuritiesâthings you never wanted him to carry.
On the fourth day, the sky over the island turned an angry, bruised purple.
You were mid-spar with one of Shakkyâs training automatons when you felt itâa shift in the air pressure. A presence. Haki that felt like a tidal wave of sheer, focused intent.
You skidded to a halt, your heart hammering against your ribs. Standing at the edge of the clearing, drenched in the sudden downpour, was Luffy.
He didn't look like the boy you had left behind. His shoulders were broader, his posture radiating a dangerous, quiet power. He wasn't wearing his straw hat; he held it in his hand, clutching it tight. His eyes, usually gleaming with mischief, were dark, focused, and unreadable.
"Luffy?" you breathed, dropping your combat staff. "What are you doing here? Rayleighâ"
"I told him I had to go," Luffy interrupted, his voice deeper, raspy from the rain. He started walking toward you, his boots sinking into the mud. "I didn't finish the letter before I left. I didn't want to write back."
Your breath hitched. "Luffy, listenâI made a mistake. That letter⊠it was meant for me, not you. I was tired, I didn't mean to send it, please, just tear it up and forgetâ"
He reached you in two long strides, his hand shooting out to catch your wrist. His skin was scorching hot, a stark contrast to the cold rain. He didn't pull you in; he just held you there, looking at you with an intensity that forced you to meet his gaze.
"Forget it?" he repeated, his brow furrowing. "You think I could forget that? You think I could just rip up the only honest thing anyone has said to me in a year?"
"Iâm not⊠Iâm not enough, Luffy. I watched him die. I didn't do anything."
Luffyâs expression shattered. He pulled you abruptly against his chest, his arms wrapping around you with a ferocity that stole your breath. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hair dripping water onto your collarbone.
"Don't," he growled, the vibration resonating through his chest and into yours. "Don't you ever say that. You weren't a ghost. You were the only thing that kept me from drifting away entirely."
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. His eyes were fierce, filled with a raw, unshakable resolve.
"You think youâre just a reminder of what I lost?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "When I was in the hospital, when everything was black and the world felt like it was ending, you were the hand I held. You were the one who stayed when I was screaming in my sleep for someone who wasn't coming back. You didn't just hold his beads, Y/N. You held me together."
"I failed him," you sobbed, the dam finally breaking.
"We both did," Luffy said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "But weâre alive. And Iâm not going to let you go through the rest of this journey thinking youâre a failure for loving me when I was at my worst."
He took a shaky breath, his thumb moving to your lips. "I didn't know how to say it. I didn't know how to love anything else when my heart was broken. But every time I finished training, I only wanted to come here and tell you that I didn't want to be the Pirate King alone. I want you there. I want you to be the one standing beside me when I reach the top."
You looked up at him, the rain washing away the grime of the island, leaving only the two of youâsurvivors, broken but mending, forged in the fires of loss.
"I love you, Y/N," Luffy said, and his voice was simple, singular, and absolute. It wasn't the voice of a boy, but of a man who had decided exactly what he wanted. "You aren't just 'worth' it. Youâre the reason Iâm still fighting."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. The rain continued to pour, but in the circle of his arms, the world felt still. He kissed you thenâa desperate, clumsy, yet overwhelmingly certain press of his lips against yours. It tasted of salt and rain, but beneath that, it tasted like a promise.
When he pulled away, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. It was soaked and wrinkled, the ink bleeding into the paper. He didn't throw it away. Instead, he tucked it carefully into the inner pocket of his vest, right over his heart.
"Now," Luffy said, a small, genuine smile creeping onto his face, his usual spark returning to his eyes. "Teach me how to spar properly, so I can hurry up and make you my first mate."
You let out a watery laugh, wiping your eyes. "You're an idiot, Luffy."
"Yeah," he grinned, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers through yoursâa grip that was firm, steady, and never, ever letting go. "But I'm your idiot."
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The salt air of the East Blue has a way of sticking to your skin, a fine grit of sea spray and desperation.
You hadnât intended to become a pirate, and you certainly hadnât intended to become an anomaly. You were just a dancerâone who had traveled from island to island, using the fluid elegance of your movements to earn scraps of bread and a bed for the night.
It was in the chaotic, colorful nightmare of Buggy the Clownâs circus that your life changed. You had been starving for two days, your stomach a hollow ache that made your limbs feel heavy.
While sneaking through the back tents, searching for the catering supplies, you found a crate. Inside, nestled among rags, sat a fruit of such grotesque, swirling patterns that it looked like a bruise on reality itself.
You didn't know it was a Devil Fruit. You only knew it smelled like salvation. One bite, and the world tilted.
When you realized you had traded your ability to swim for a bizarre, latent powerâone that required your absolute, meditative focus to activateâyou felt cheated.
But the power was undeniable: for a few minutes at a time, you could harmonize your kinetic energy with the world around you, turning your dance-fighting into physical force that could shatter bone.
The circus was currently under assault. The tents were burning, the smell of gunpowder hung thick, and in the middle of it all stood a boy made of rubber.
You were pinned behind a stack of wooden crates, your breath hitching in your throat. A group of Buggyâs lackeys were closing in, their blades glinting in the firelight.
You stood up, your movements shifting from the frantic scurrying of a survivor to the calculated, rhythmic grace of a performer.
You began to circle them. Your feet tapped a staccato rhythm against the dirtâleft-pivot, slide, spin. You were gathering your center, pulling the ambient energy of the chaotic battlefield into your core. Your skin began to hum with a faint, pearlescent glow.
"Hey!"
The shout was boisterous, completely lacking the tension the moment demanded. A blur of movement arched over your head, a rubbery limb extending like a whip.
Gomu Gomu no Pistol. A Buggy pirate went flying into a stack of barrels, splintering them to kindling.
Monkey D. Luffy landed beside you, his straw hat tipped low, his grin wide and seemingly oblivious to the flaming debris raining down around you. He looked at you, then at the remaining pirates, and finally back to you.
"Whoa! You're a dancer?" he asked, pointing a finger at your stance.
"I'm a survivor," you snapped, your focus sharpening. The hum in your blood grew louder, a vibration that made the ground beneath your feet tremble.
"Cool!" Luffy laughed. "Iâm Luffy! Iâm gonna be King of the Pirates! Do you have any meat? Iâm starving!"
You didn't answer. You swept into a low crouch, your arms tracing a circle in the air. As you exhaled, you unleashed your ability. Your movements became a blur of lethal elegance.
You didn't just kick; you delivered impacts that felt like cannon shots. Each pirouette sent a shockwave through the air, knocking the remaining pirates off their feet before they could even blink.
When the last of them hit the dirt, you let out a long, shuddering breath, the glow fading from your skin. Your legs felt like jelly. You stumbled, and two warm, rubbery hands caught your shoulders, steadying you.
"That was awesome!" Luffy chirped, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated awe. "You're strong! You should join my crew!"
You didn't join immediatelyâyou were too wary, too used to the loneliness of the roadâbut Luffy wasn't the type to take a refusal. He followed you from town to town, his laughter trailing behind him like a persistent shadow.
He shared his food, he picked fights with anyone who looked at you sideways, and he watched you with a curiosity that made your heart hammer in a way your Devil Fruit never could.
A month later, on a wind-swept beach, you finally stopped running.
"Why do you keep following me?" you asked, sitting on a drift log, watching the waves.
You couldn't swim; the very sight of the ocean made your stomach turn now, a constant reminder of the price youâd paid for your power.
Luffy climbed up and sat beside you, his legs dangling. "Because you're fun. And because when you fight, you look like you're having the best time in the world, even when you're mad."
"It's not fun," you whispered, looking at your hands. "It's just⊠a dance. A way to stay alive."
Luffy leaned in, his face inches from yours. His dark eyes were intense, stripping away the layers of defense youâd built for years. "Then teach me."
"Teach you what?"
"How to dance. And how you make that glowy power thingy happen."
You looked at himâreally looked at him. The messy hair, the scar under his eye, the raw, unfiltered sincerity in his expression. For the first time, the "power" inside you didn't feel like a burden or an act of desperation. It felt like a tether.
"It requires focus," you said softly. "You have to be completely still, even when your body wants to move. You have to find the rhythm of the world around you."
Luffy closed his eyes. "Okay. I'm ready."
He didn't move. He sat there, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. The stillness of him was jarring. Luffy, the boy who was always vibrating with energy, was suddenly as still as a statue.
You stood up and moved behind him, your hands hovering over his shoulders. "Keep your eyes closed. Don't think about the food. Don't think about the sea. Just listen to the wind."
You moved in a slow, hypnotic circle around him, your footsteps silent. You were showing him the rhythm, a low, melodic hum vibrating from your throat. Slowly, the air around you began to shimmer.
Luffyâs breathing deepened. The faint, pearlescent glow began to bleed from your skin, reaching out to touch him, wrapping around his shoulders like a shawl.
He gasped, his eyes flying open. They weren't just black anymore; they were rimmed with that same etheric light.
He stood up, his movements fluid, losing that usual clumsy, rubbery gait. He mirrored your stance, his hand tracing the same arc yours had.
When he tapped his foot, a small crater formed in the sandânot because of brute force, but because of the perfect, focused harmony of his movement.
He looked at you, a genuine, soft smile gracing his faceâa look he rarely gave anyone else. It was intimate, a silent language shared only between two people who understood the weight of the sea.
"I get it now," he whispered. "It's like⊠being in sync with everything."
"It's like being in sync with you," you countered, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.
Luffy didn't shy away. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers were warm, steady, and grounding.
"Then let's stay in sync," he said. "Come with me. We can travel the world, find the Grand Line, and have the biggest dance party anyone's ever seen."
You looked out at the oceanâthe vast, terrifying, beautiful expanse you could never enter again. Then you looked at the boy who had become your anchor in a world that never stopped moving.
"I can't swim, you know," you reminded him, your voice thick with emotion.
Luffy laughed, that booming, carefree sound that made your world feel right again. He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and possessive.
"That's okay," he grinned. "I'll be your raft."
In that moment, you realized you didn't need the sea to feel free. You had the dancer's rhythm, the fighter's focus, and the King of the Pirates holding your hand.
For someone who had spent so long running, you finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
The weeks that followed were a blur of adventure. You weren't just a drifter anymore; you were part of a legend in the making. You and Luffy developed a combat style that left enemies speechless.
You would set the rhythm, the glow of your power radiating outward, and Luffy would follow, his rubbery limbs delivering the final, devastating blows with a precision he had never possessed before.
One evening, anchored near a small, jungle-covered island, the crew was asleep. The deck of the ship was quiet, save for the rhythmic creaking of the wood.
You were on the bow, practicing your footwork, the moon casting long, silver shadows across the deck.
You felt him before you heard him. Luffy sat on the railing behind you, watching.
"You're doing that thing again," he said, his voice low.
You paused, your feet coming to a halt. "What thing?"
"The thing where you look like you're dancing with the stars." He hopped down, landing silently in front of you. He didn't ask for a lesson this time. He just held out his hand.
You took it. You didn't use your powerâthere was no battle to be fought, no pirates to fend off.
But the connection was still there, buzzing beneath your skin like a quiet, persistent hum. You led him into a slow, swaying step, and he followed, awkward at first, then finding his stride.
He wasn't a dancer, but he was quick to learn, his body adapting to yours with an instinct that bordered on supernatural.
"You're a good teacher," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.
"And you're a quick study," you whispered back.
The proximity was dizzying. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the steady beat of his heart against your chest.
He wasn't the loud, boisterous captain when he was like this. He was grounded, present, and entirely yours.
"I don't think I ever want to stop," he said, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
"The dancing?"
"No," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. "This. Being on this journey with you."
You felt the familiar hum of your power surge to the surface, unbidden, fueled not by concentration, but by the overwhelming swell of your own heart. It wrapped around you both, a soft, shimmering cocoon of light that turned the dark deck into a stage for two.
You didn't need a crowd. You didn't need the applause of a circus tent or the coins of a stranger. You had the rhythm of the ocean beneath the ship, the stillness of the night, and the man who had promised to be your raft.
"Luffy," you began, but he didn't let you finish.
He leaned in, his lips meeting yours. It was a simple, clumsy kiss, tasting of adventure and salt and the promise of a thousand dawns.
It was the most dangerous thing you had ever done, far more terrifying than any Devil Fruit abilityâbecause it meant you had something to lose.
But as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, you knew that even if the world turned upside down, you would be okay. You were the dancer, the fighter, the one who had finally found her song.
"Ready to go to the Grand Line?" he asked, pulling back just an inch, his signature grin playing on his lips.
You looked at the horizon, the dark silhouette of the next island waiting in the distance. You gripped his hand tighter, the glow of your power pulsing in time with your shared heartbeat.
"I'm ready for anything," you said.
And as the ship lurched forward into the rising sun, you knew it was true.
You were Monkey D. Luffyâs partner, his anchor. And together, you were going to rewrite the rhythm of the entire world. . . .
Imagining at Elpba arc where Luffy (plus reader) is learning of Nika, and you know how thereâs a lot of versions in mythology. Well one where Nika had a lover (iâm calling them Europa as a place holder), incident happen with another being or god that resulted in spitting Europa in half, and losing her heart. Nika tries anything he can to replace the heart, from using a cloud to using a part of himself, but itâs only temporary. This makes him upset that he canât do anything to help them. So another godly being decides to take pity on them, transforming them into the sun and moon, only being able to see eachother once a year, creating the eclipse.
Once A Year
Song: Needed Me - Rihanna
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The air in Elbaf carries the weight of centuries. It tastes like pine needles, frozen brine, and the kind of ancient, bone-deep magic that makes the skin on your arms prickle.
You are sitting at the base of the Great Yggdrasil, the colossal tree that serves as the heart of the giantsâ land, your hand tucked securely into Luffyâs.
Luffy is uncharacteristically quiet. Heâs been staring at the shifting murals carved into the bark for hoursâstories of the Sun God, Nika, told in broad, sweeping strokes of history that predate the World Governmentâs erasure.
"Itâs weird, isnât it?" he murmurs, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. "The stories. They make him sound like heâs supposed to be everything. But even he couldn't save her."
You follow his gaze to a panel that is worn smooth by time. It depicts a figureâNikaâcradling a woman whose body seems to be dissolving into stardust. Her name, according to the local lore youâve been reading, was Europa.
"The myth says he tried everything," you whisper, feeling the cold wind of Elbaf tug at your hair. "The clouds, the stars, even his own essence. He wanted to make her whole again."
Luffy sighs, a sound that feels too heavy for his chest. He pulls you closer, his warmthâthat constant, solar heat that radiates from himâseeping into your bones.
"He was a god who could change the shape of the world, but he couldn't fix the one thing that actually mattered. Thatâs gotta be the loneliest feeling in the universe."
As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long, bruised shadows across the forest floor, the stories of the giants begin to blur with your own reality.
You feel a strange, rhythmic thrumming in the ground, as if the tree itself is breathing.
In the mythology of this place, Europa wasn't just a lover; she was the anchor to Nikaâs chaotic, liberating spirit. When a jealous deityâa shadow that sought to dim the light of the worldâsplit her in two, the legend says Nikaâs laughter died for the first time.
He tried to replace her heart with a piece of a lightning-struck cloud, but it drifted away, formless. He tried to give her a piece of his own burning light, but she was too fragile to contain the intensity of a god.
"He felt like he was failing her," you muse, leaning your head against Luffyâs shoulder. "Every moment he spent with her after that was just a countdown. He knew she was fading."
Luffy turns his head, his dark eyes searching yours. Thereâs a raw vulnerability thereâthe kind he rarely shows anyone but you. "If I were him," he says, his voice barely a rasp, "I would have burned the whole world down to keep her heart beating."
"You wouldn't have had to," you tell him softly. "Because you wouldn't have let them take her in the first place."
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He is thinking about the fragility of things. He is thinking about how, even with all the power in the world, there are voids you cannot fill.
The legends continue. Distraught by Nikaâs grief, and perhaps weary of the shadow-godâs cruelty, a primordial existenceâsomething older than the sun itselfâintervened.
The story goes that they couldn't undo the damage, but they could preserve the connection. They took the two broken pieces of Europa and the essence of the grieving God and cast them into the sky.
One became the Sun. The other became the Moon.
"They were cursed to chase each other forever," Luffy says, recounting the final stanza of the epic. "Always in the same sky, but never truly holding one another. Until the eclipse."
"Once a year," you recite, the words feeling like a prayer. "The moment where the moon covers the sun. The only time they are allowed to be one again. A brief, fleeting union before the cycle forces them apart."
Luffy stands up, pulling you to your feet. The transition is seamless, his movements fluid and purposeful.
He leads you toward a clearing where the canopy opens up to reveal the vast, star-strewn expanse of the Elbaf sky.
"I don't like that ending," Luffy declares, his brow furrowing. "Itâs a tragedy. Why would the god let them do that? Why not just stay together?"
"Maybe because the distance is what keeps the world turning," you suggest, though it feels like a hollow comfort.
Luffy shakes his head, his grip on your hand tightening. "No. Thatâs just stories people tell to make themselves feel better about being apart. If we were stars, Iâd stop the orbit. Iâd freeze the sky in place."
As you stand in the clearing, the world begins to change. The temperature plummets, the birds go silent, and the shadows grow impossibly long. It is the night of the Elbaf Eclipseâthe night the legends come to life.
There is an eerie, cosmic alignment occurring above. The moon begins its slow crawl over the edge of the sun.
You watch as the light dims, the world bathed in an unnatural, silvery violet glow. It is beautiful and terrifying, a celestial reenactment of a heartbreak that transcends time.
"Do you feel it?" Luffy asks.
You do. You feel a strange sense of longing that isn't yoursâa desperate, aching desire for touch that feels like itâs being pulled out of the ether.
You look at Luffy, and for a split second, his silhouette seems to shimmer. The golden aura that usually dances around him flares, mimicking the corona of the sun eclipsed by the moon.
You realize then that this isn't just a story for Luffy. He is identifying with the ache. He understands the struggle of holding onto something that is constantly being pulled away by the gravity of existence.
"Luffy," you say, your voice barely audible over the sudden, rushing wind.
He turns to you, and his expression is unreadable. The light of the eclipse hits his face, turning his skin into polished bronze. He looks like a deity carved from the very history you were reading about. He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, his touch scorching and gentle all at once.
"I won't let us be like them," he vows. The bravado is gone, replaced by a terrifying, absolute certainty. "I don't care about the sky or the cycles or the gods who think they can dictate how long we get. If the world tries to split us, Iâll fold the world itself."
The sky reaches the moment of totality. The sun is completely obscured by the moon, a black iris rimmed with fire.
The world stands still. It feels as though the universe is holding its breath, waiting to see if the ancient lovers will finally break the rules.
In that silence, you lean into Luffy. You aren't thinking about the mythology anymore. You are thinking about the warmth of his chest, the sound of his heartâa steady, rhythmic drum that tells you he is here, he is whole, and he is yours.
He kisses you, and it isn't the kiss of a boy who is just learning about love; itâs the kiss of someone who has defied gravity. It is possessive and desperate, a claim staked against the cosmos.
For a moment, the ache of the legend fades. The tragedy of Europa and Nika feels like a distant, irrelevant ghost. You aren't chasing each other through an orbit. You aren't waiting for a yearly alignment.
You are grounded, here, in the present, under the shadow of the great tree.
When the light finally begins to break again, the sun creeping out from behind the moon, the world rushes back inâthe sound of the wind, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a giant.
Luffy pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours. Heâs breathless, his eyes wide and bright, reflecting the returning light.
"See?" he whispers. "The sun comes back. The moon stays. They don't leave."
"They have to," you remind him gently, though you feel the tears pricking your eyes. "Itâs their path."
Luffy shakes his head, a stubborn, crooked grin spreading across his face. "Not for us. We write our own path. Let the gods have their eclipses. Iâd rather have the sunrise with you every day."
You walk back toward the village as the sky returns to its normal color. The weight of the Elbaf legends feels lighter now, the tragedy stripped of its power.
You look at Luffy, watching the way he strides forward, completely unafraid of the vastness of the sea or the cruelty of fate.
He grabs your hand again, interlacing his fingers with yours. His grip is firm, undeniable. He isn't a cloud, and he isn't a fading myth. He is solid. He is the person who would fight the gods to keep his heart beating, and you are the reason he would do it.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, casting a glance at you.
"Just that Iâm glad we aren't stars," you say.
Luffy laughsâa loud, boisterous sound that echoes through the trees, chasing away the last of the silence. "Yeah. Being a star sounds boring. Way too much distance. I like it better this way."
He pulls you closer, tucking you into his side as you walk.
"Besides," he adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "if we ever do become stars, Iâll just make sure weâre binary ones. The kind that spin around each other so fast they turn into one giant, burning ball of light. No room for anyone else to get in between."
You laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. Itâs a ridiculous, Luffy-esque solution to a cosmic problem, but as you look up at the expansive, uncaring sky, you realize you wouldnât have it any other way.
"I'd like that," you say.
"Good," he replies, and he squeezes your hand, anchoring you to the earth, to the moment, and to him.
The story of Nika and Europa will continue to be told in the halls of Elbaf, a cautionary tale of love and loss for generations to come.
But as you walk into the night, hand in hand, you know that your story is not written in the stars. It is written in the dirt of the path you tread, in the calloused skin of your hands, and in the promise that no matter what the world demands, you will choose to remain exactly where you are: together.
The night air is cold, but you are wrapped in a warmth that refuses to dim. And as the stars begin to peer through the canopy, they look less like distant, lonely entities and more like witnessesânot to a tragedy, but to the small, quiet victory of a boy who refused to let his love become just another myth.
You aren't a sun or a moon. You are two people, finding your way home, and for now, that is more than enough to silence the gods. . . .
Hear me out with thisâŠ..Luffy with a reader who was a celestial dragon but escaped to not be like them. They lost their memory (first met at buggy or syrup village) and luffy offers reader to join his crew. While waiting for their memories to return, forms a close bond with him, having beetles battles with him, sharing snacks with him, and ends up having a crush on himâŠ.then Sabaody arc happen, reader learning that their related to âpeopleâ that believe their gods and harm others, seeing Camie in the slave auction, reader ends up attacking one of the celestial dragons nearby. Luffy having to calm them down, not caring who the reader was, only who they are now.
Devil fruit can be your pick (energy, wind generation, or blood manipulation)
Who We Are Now
Song: Walking On A Dream - Empire Of A Son
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The salt air of the East Blue had always felt like a cleansing ritual against your skin, though you couldnât quite remember why you felt so desperate to be washed clean.
You were a mystery even to yourselfâfound drifting in a small, ornate rowboat near the shores of Syrup Village, your clothes made of fine, shimmering fabrics that seemed out of place among the rusted anchors and wooden docks.
When Monkey D. Luffy found you, you were unconscious, your mind a blank slate, your past a locked door you held no key to.
He hadn't asked for a sob story. He hadn't asked where you came from or why your hands were soft and unmarked by labor.
He had simply poked your cheek, grinned with a mouth full of jagged, youthful teeth, and declared, âYou look like youâre hungry! Wanna join my crew?â
You hadn't known who he was, or what a pirate was, but the bright, terrifying warmth in his eyes felt like the first honest thing you had ever encountered. You said yes.
Life aboard the Going Merryâand later the Thousand Sunnyâwas a kaleidoscope of chaos and color. You quickly discovered your Devil Fruit ability during a skirmish with some overzealous bounty hunters.
When a blade grazed your arm, you didn't panic; instead, a strange, instinctual command pulsed through your veins.
The droplets of blood that hit the deck didn't pool; they rose, hardening into razor-sharp needles that darted through the air like hornets. You were a user of the Chi-Chi no Miâthe Blood-Blood Fruit.
A terrifying, intimate power that felt less like a weapon and more like a limb you had forgotten how to move.
Though your memories remained a fog, your bond with Luffy became the anchor of your existence.
You spent endless afternoons on the deck, crouched in the shade of the mainmast, engaged in the serious business of beetle wrestling.
Luffy would find the most peculiar specimens, and you would giggleâa sound that always made him blink, as if hearing it were a rare luxuryâas you helped him train them.
"You're cheating, Luffy!" youâd laugh, nudging his shoulder with your own.
"I'm not cheating! I'm using tactical maneuvering!" heâd protest, his cheeks puffed out in that pout you found impossibly endearing.
He shared his snacks with you, always offering the best piece of meat with a casual flip of his hand. You grew to love the way he breathedâthe rhythm of his laughter, the way he would fall asleep with his head in your lap while the rest of the crew argued.
You grew to love the way he looked at youânot as a puzzle to be solved, but as a person to be protected, laughed with, and hauled into every adventure.
The crush had started as a quiet ember, a warmth that settled in your chest whenever he grabbed your hand to pull you out of danger.
By the time you reached the Grand Line, it was a bonfire. You were terrified, though.
If you remembered who you were, would he still look at you like that? Or would the truth be something that turned his grin into a scowl?
Sabaody Archipelago was supposed to be a stopping point, a breather between the madness of the New World.
But the air here felt heavy, charged with a static that made the hair on your arms stand up.
When you entered the Human Auctioning House to rescue Camie, your heart began to hammer against your ribsâa frantic, rhythmic thumping that echoed in your ears.
Your memory, long dormant, began to itch at the back of your skull.
You stood in the shadows of the mezzanine, your gaze fixed on the stage. There stood a Celestial Dragon, his pressurized bubble helmet refracting the light into a sickening, distorted halo.
He leaned back, his sneer lazy, his hand resting on a pistol. He spoke of the "lower animals" with a tone of authority that felt like a hot iron pressed against your brain.
âThis property is mine,â he sneered.
Something shattered inside you. Not a memory, but a realization. The way he held his chin, the insignias on his robes, the absolute, casual cruelty in his postureâit was a mirror.
Images flooded your vision, violent and clinical: gold-leafed corridors, people bowing until their foreheads bled, the smell of incense and fear. You weren't just someone whoâd escaped.
You were blood of their blood. You were a monster who had been playing house with a pirate.
The revulsion was so strong it made you physically gag. You looked down at your hands, the hands that had been building friendships and sharing snacks, and you saw them as instruments of the very tyranny you had learned to despise.
Before you could stop yourself, you were moving. You didn't hear Luffyâs warnings or Zoroâs shout. You felt your blood begin to boil, the heat radiating from your core, commanding the iron within your veins to surge.
"You," you whispered, your voice trembling with a cocktail of rage and self-loathing.
With a whip-crack motion of your wrist, you turned the blood on a small scrape on your palm into a crimson blade.
You lunged. You didn't care about the risk; you didn't care about the Naval Admiral who would inevitably be summoned. You just wanted to carve the arrogance off that manâs face.
"Don't you dare touch her!" you screamed, your control slipping. Your blood-tendrils lashed out, shattering the glass of the bubble helmet.
The man screamed, a pathetic, high-pitched sound. The guards swarmed, but you were a whirlwind of crimson, your face masked in tears you didn't even realize were falling.
"Get away! Get away from here!" you shrieked, striking at the guards, your power acting as an extension of your own shattered identity.
You were terrified of what you were, terrified that if you didn't kill this part of yourself, it would eventually kill the person you loved.
Suddenly, a handâfirm, rubbery, and incredibly warmâcaught your wrist mid-swing.
You froze. You looked up, expecting to see horror in Luffyâs eyes. You expected him to recoil, to realize that you were kin to the people who enslaved the world.
But as you looked into his dark, unwavering eyes, you saw nothing but absolute, blinding clarity.
"LuffyâŠ" you choked out, your blood-blade dissipating into a mist. "I⊠I am one of them. I'm aâ"
"I don't care," he interrupted, his voice dropping to that serious, grounded register he only used when things were truly dire.
He didn't let go of your wrist. Instead, he pulled you against his chest, shielding you from the chaos erupting around the stage. His heartbeat was steady, a grounding rhythm against your own erratic pulse.
"Youâre not them," he said, his grip tightening. He wasn't looking at the Celestial Dragon; he was looking only at you. "Youâre the one who struggles to catch beetles. Youâre the one who shares my meat. Youâre the one who laughs until your eyes water. Thatâs who you are."
"But I was born to be like him," you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulders, the scent of sea salt and sunshine grounding you. "Iâm a demon."
Luffy shifted, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist. "Everyone has a past, or a name, or a rank. But here, on my ship, those things don't mean a damn thing. Youâre my nakama. And if anyoneâCelestial Dragon or otherwiseâtries to tell me who you are, Iâll punch them into the sun."
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. He didn't offer pity. He offered a challenge, a grin that cut through the darkness of your realization like a lighthouse beam.
"Youâre done being their shadow. Start being mine."
The chaos of the auction house roared around you, the screams of the elite and the shouts of the marines becoming a cacophony of white noise.
But in the center of the storm, held by the man who had found you when you were nothing, you felt the last of the celestial influence drain away.
You weren't who you were born to be. You were who you had chosen to become.
And as Luffy turned to face the threat, his hand locked safely in yours, you knew that no matter what memories returned, no matter what monsters were in your blood, he would never let you face them alone.
You wiped your tears, squared your shoulders, and tightened your grip on his hand.
"Ready?" he asked, his eyes dancing with battle-hunger.
"Ready," you replied.
The hunt for your identity was over. You had found yourself, and you had found your home. And that was more than enough. . . .
Platonic Robin and reader whose is the definition of âcuriosity kill the catâ, they is wanted by the govât for being to accidentally stealing information and learing a few dirty secrets. Ate a devil fruit that allows them to regenerate. Asks Robin to teach them of archaeology, and to be her apprentice.
Curious Cat
Pairing: Nico Robin x Y/N
A/n: I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3
The salt air of the Grand Line was a scent you had grown intimately familiar with over the past three months, though it never quite masked the metallic tang of fear that lived at the back of your throat.
You were currently pressed against the cold, damp stone of a ruined temple on an island that didn't appear on any official World Government charts.
Your lungs burned, your side was a patchwork of torn fabric and raw, weeping flesh from a government-issued blade, but even as you watched, the skin knit itself back together.
It was a sickening, tingly sensationâthe Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Salamanderâpulling your cells back into alignment, knitting muscle and bone as if the wound had been nothing more than a bad dream.
"Youâre reckless," a voice murmured from the shadows.
You didn't jump. You knew the cadence of her breath, the way her presence felt like a library in the middle of a battlefield. Nico Robin stepped into the moonlight, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like ink spilled on parchment.
She looked at the fading scar on your side with an expression that was half-amusement, half-reprimand.
"I didn't mean to find the ledger," you whispered, your voice raspy. "I was just looking for the library archives in Enies Lobby. I didn't know the 'private records' vault was behind the mop closet."
"And yet," Robin said, walking toward you, her footsteps silent on the ancient stone, "you managed to memorize the shipment manifests for the CP9 black-budget projects before the guards even realized a stray cat had wandered into their den."
You winced. "Curiosity is a terminal illness, isn't it?"
"In your case," she replied, offering a hand to pull you up, "itâs a miracle youâre still breathing. The government doesn't just put a bounty on a thiefâs head for stealing gold. They want you erased because youâre a walking, talking hard drive of their most inconvenient sins."
You took her hand, feeling the strength in her grip. You were a fugitive, a curiosity, a biological anomaly that couldn't be killed, and a person who had accidentally stumbled upon the dark architecture of the worldâs power.
But standing there, amidst the ruins of a civilization that had been wiped from history, you didn't feel like a victim. You felt like a student.
The Thousand Sunny was your sanctuary, but it was also a floating classroom. While Luffy, Zoro, and the others dealt with the chaos of the New World, you spent your days in the shipâs library, surrounded by the smell of aged paper and wood polish.
You sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stacks of crumbling manuscripts youâd salvaged from the temple. Robin sat at the desk, her quill scratching rhythmically against her parchment.
"Robin," you started, tracing the faded glyphs on a piece of stone, "why does the syntax shift here? Itâs like the author was trying to hide the dates of the Void Century behind a double-coded metaphor."
She looked up, her blue eyes softening as they landed on you. She had seen many people come and go, many people who wanted to use the Poneglyphs for power or greed.
But you were different. You didn't want the treasure; you wanted the context. You wanted to know who had lived, what they had built, and why the world was so desperate to forget them.
"You have a keen eye for patterns," she noted, setting down her quill. "Most scholars spend decades trying to decipher that specific shift. They look at it as a puzzle to be solved. You⊠you look at it like youâre listening to a story."
"Because it is a story," you insisted, pushing a lock of hair from your eyes. "And itâs a story the government tried to burn. If someone doesn't learn it, itâs like it never happened."
"That is the tragedy of history," Robin said, standing up and walking over to you. She knelt, her fingers brushing the stone you were holding. "It dies the moment the last person who remembers it stops speaking. That is why I need you, perhaps more than you need me."
You looked at her, startled. "Need me?"
"You are a survivor," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Your fruit⊠it allows you to endure what others cannot. You don't just learn history; you have the potential to carry it. You've been running from the government for months, dodging their assassins and their traps. Youâve seen how they hide the truth. If you stay, if you keep learning⊠you won't just be a thief anymore. You will be an archaeologist."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You looked at the shelves behind herâbooks on ancient theology, maps of sunken cities, records of eras the world claimed were myths.
You had lived your life as a victim of your own curiosity, getting into trouble because you couldn't help but peek behind the curtain. But here, with her, that curiosity wasn't a death sentence. It was a legacy.
"Teach me," you said, your voice firm. "Teach me everything. Not just how to decode the texts, but how to read between the lines. How to survive the truth."
Robin smiled, a genuine, warm expression that rarely graced her face for anyone else. "Then consider this your first lesson. An apprentice doesn't just look for answers. They look for the questions that no one else is brave enough to ask."
The months that followed were a blur of adrenaline and ink.
You became the shadow to Robinâs light. When the crew stopped at islands, you weren't the one looking for food or adventure; you were the one following Robin into the darkest corners of forgotten ruins, your skin healing over every cut and scrape you earned while dodging traps.
You learned that the "dirty secrets" you had accidentally stolen weren't just political leverageâthey were the foundations of a corrupt world order. You learned that curiosity wasn't something to be suppressed; it was a tool.
One evening, while anchored near a volcanic island, you found yourself trapped in a collapsing vault. A beam of burning debris crushed your arm, the pain white-hot and blinding.
As your skin began that familiar, grotesque dance of regeneration, you didn't cry out. You focused on the tablet in your other hand, reading the inscription reflected in the glow of the approaching lava.
By the time the Sunnyâs rescue crew reached you, you had the translation memorized.
When you were back on board, bandaged and exhausted, Robin found you on the deck, watching the stars.
"You didn't have to stay for that last line," she said, leaning against the railing beside you.
"I did," you countered. "It was the name of the civilization. They were called the 'Keepers of the Dawn.' They weren't just building cities; they were building an archive for the future. They knew they would be erased, so they hid their history in the architecture of the world itself."
Robin looked at you, a profound sense of pride in her eyes. "You aren't just an apprentice anymore, are you?"
"I'm a witness," you replied. "And as long as I have this fruit⊠as long as I can keep coming back from the dead, Iâm going to make sure they aren't forgotten."
"The government will never stop hunting us," she warned, though she didn't look worried.
"Let them," you said, your curiosity reignited by a new, dangerous spark. "I have a lifetime of research to catch up on, and for the first time, I have the time to do it."
You leaned against her, the scent of old books and sea spray grounding you. You had started out as a stray cat, a nuisance, a thief who stumbled into a viperâs nest. But now, you were the keeper of the truth.
You were the apprentice of the Demon Child, the student of the Void Century, and the one who would outlive the very government that tried to kill you.
"What's next, Master?" you asked, a mischievous glint in your eye.
Robin laughed, the sound carrying over the waves. "Next? We go to the heart of the world, and we find out exactly what they're so afraid of us knowing."
Your curiosity was no longer your downfall. It was your weapon. And for the first time in your life, you weren't afraid of the ending. Because as long as you were there, the story would never truly be over. . . .
Request for 40 year old luffy x reader (same age), who look back on how they first met, the journey to their relationship. Reader devil fruit is being able to absorb energy and construct it
Old Age
Song: Teenage Dream - Katy Perry
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
"You owe me a ship," Luffy says, grinning around the straw clenched between his teeth, elbow-deep in the guts of your latest creationâa half-built warship forged from stolen sunlight and desperation.
You don't bother looking up from where you're stitching a ruptured steel plate with threads of condensed starlight. "Pretty sure I paid that debt when I rebuilt your ribs after Marineford," you mutter.
Twenty years haven't softened the way his laughter rolls through you, reckless as the first time he snatched your wrist mid-battle and shouted, "Join my crew!" like it was a foregone conclusion.
Back then, you'd been a starving thief with knuckles still cracked from draining an admiral dryâhis haki had tasted like burnt sugar and lightning, and you'd spat it back in his face. Luffy had just laughed harder.
Now, sweat glues your shirt to your spine as the midday sun bakes the dry-dock. The half-formed hull thrums under your palms, drinking in the heat, the way you once drank energy from anything foolish enough to get close.
You'd been a weapon before you met him. Something to point at enemies and watch detonate.
Luffy's sandal nudges your knee. "Hey," he says, and you already know that toneâthe one that means trouble, the one that means he's about to ask for something impossible.
"Remember that island where you blew up the marina?" You groan. He's grinning. "Let's do that again."
The warship groans too, its steel ribs flexing as you pour another pulse of stolen storm-energy into its frame.
You'd leveled that marina because Luffy asked, because he'd looked at you with that same stupid trust he's giving you nowâlike you wouldn't, couldn't, fail him. Like you were already nakama before you'd even agreed.
His fingers, sticky with resin from the hull, brush yours. "You're thinking too much," he accuses, and you shove him away just to watch him roll backwards, cackling. He comes up with straw hat askew, sunburned and impossible. Twenty years and the bastard still won't age right.
You could tell him about the nightmaresâhow sometimes you wake up choking on the ghost-taste of all the lives you've drained. How the ship's keel feels like a bone you're setting wrong.
Instead, you flick a spark of energy at his hat. "Fireproof that thing already," you lie, and he laughs like it's the funniest thing he's heard all week.
The warship shudders violently as you feed it another surge of power, its steel plates groaning like a living thing. Luffy scrambles up the half-finished mast like a damn monkey, balancing on a crossbeam with his arms spread wide.
"Make it fly next!" he shouts down, and you nearly drop your tools.
"Only if you want it to explode mid-air, you idiot," you snap, but your hands are already movingâcalculating wind resistance, stress points, the way stolen lightning crackles between your fingers. Twenty years of this. Twenty years of his impossible ideas becoming your blueprints.
He leaps down, landing in a crouch that sends wood splintering. "You'll figure it out," he says, utterly certain, and the worst part isâhe's right.
You always do. The ship's hull thrums in agreement, drinking in your frustration and his faith in equal measure.
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of breaking glass and drunken singing drifts from the dockside tavernâyour old crew, probably, celebrating nothing in particular.
You'd recognize Zoro's off-key bellowing anywhere. Luffy's grin widens, like he's already plotting how to drag you there.
Your fingers twitch against the ship's spine. It's warm now, alive with the energy you've fed it, vibrating like a sleeping beast. You could finish it tonight. You probably will.
But firstâ"One drink," you warn, pointing a glowing finger at his chest. "Then I'm welding the rudder."
He grabs your wrist, same as he did twenty years ago, and tugs. "Liar," he accuses, delighted. The ship groans behind you, as if mourning your abandonment, but Luffy's grip is insistent.
His palm burns against your pulse point, steady as dawn. You let him pull you toward the chaos.
The tavern door bursts open under his shoulder before he even touches it. Inside, Nami's halfway through flipping off a card shark twice her size, while Franky's mechanical arms pour something flaming into Usopp's gaping mouth.
Zoro's already passed out against the bar, three empty bottles forming a shrine around his head.
Brook's fiddle screeches into something resembling music as Luffy bodily drags you toward the counter. "Barkeep!" he bellows, shaking you by the shoulders like a maraca. "Two of whatever made Zoro fall over!"
The bartender eyes your glowing fingertips warily, but slides over two murky glasses regardless.
You down yours in one swallow. It tastes like turpentine and nostalgia. Luffy's already stolen yours when you weren't looking, pouring it into his own mouth while maintaining unbroken eye contact.
The shipwrights' guild would weep if they saw you nowâone of the greatest energy architects of the age, getting towed into bar fights by a man who still can't tell port from starboard.
Sanji materializes with a platter of meat, eyebrow arched at your glowing knuckles. "Don't melt my tables again," he warns, just as Usopp body-slams into the counter screaming something about mermaids.
You catch Luffy's wrist before he can join the brawlâhis skin hums under your fingers, that same familiar voltage you've been chasing since Marineford, since the first time you rebuilt him from splintered bone and stubbornness.
The tavern's single oil lamp flickers as you drain its heat without thinking, the energy coiling in your throat like swallowed sunlight. Nami throws a mug at your head. "Stop stealing my light, asshole," she snaps, but there's no real heat in itâjust the old rhythm of crew, of home.
You toss the energy back at the lamp, and it flares bright enough to illuminate Luffy's grin, the scar under his eye, the way he's already reaching for your half-built ship's blueprints left in the sawdust.
Outside, the warship groans in its dry-dock, answering some frequency only the two of you can hear. Luffy's fingers are sticky with resin and rum when he grabs your elbow.
"After this," he says, words slurred with certainty rather than alcohol, "we're stealing Kaido's castle again." You don't bother arguing.
The drink burns in your veins like a promise, like the first time he called you nakama. The lamp gutters again. This time, you let it.
His mouth crashes into yours before you can steal the next sparkâwet with stolen liquor and laughter, tasting like gunpowder and the ghost of every storm you've ever swallowed.
You bite his lip just to hear him yelp, and he grins into the kiss like it's another battle won. His straw hat knocks askew against your forehead.
Twenty years and the idiot still can't kiss without breaking something. .
I've seen a lot of sun x moon luffy tropes. But what if it was star x sun? Unexpected duo because the sun is always partnered with the moon, same goes with the star. But what if a star devil fruit!reader Whose destiny is to orbit and protect the sun, finds its way back to nika's arms once again?
Recently thought about it, cause the sun is also a type of star, ain't it? How would the world handle two of them now?
It's up to you how you want this to gooo, I just hope that there will be some scene where they find out about nika's other halfâthe star god, Astrea.
The Star God
Song: Confident - Justin Bieber
Authorâs note: Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The sky cracked open like a split pomegranate, dripping with constellations, when you first rememberedâreally rememberedâthe taste of his laughter.
Not Luffy's, not yet, but his, the one who wore the sun as casually as a straw hat. Your fingers curled into fists, nails biting crescent moons into your palms as the Devil Fruitâs power surged beneath your skin, a supernova trapped in flesh.
The air smelled of salt and something older, something like the dust between galaxies.
You woke on the Thousand Sunnyâs deck with your back pressed against warm wood, the ship swaying beneath you like a second heartbeat.
Luffyâs shadow fell across your legs, his grin brighter than the dawn. "You were talking in your sleep," he said, tilting his head. "Sounded like a song." You didnât tell him it wasâa hymn for a god with your name etched into his ribs, a melody neither of you shouldâve known.
Then his hand brushed your shoulder, and the contact seared. Not with heat, but with the sudden, violent certainty that his fingerprints were written in the same stardust as yours.
Your breath hitched; his eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the blue of the sky whole.
"Huh," he murmured, thumb skating over your collarbone. "You feel⊠familiar." The word hung between you, thick as honey, and you wondered if he could hear your pulse screaming.
Somewhere beneath the waves, the Sea Kings stirred, their bellies full of forgotten myths. You wondered if they, too, remembered the way Nikaâs laughter used to coil around Astreaâs waist, pulling her into the sky like a comet on a leash. Luffyâs fingers tightened. You didnât pull away.
The world would burn for this. You could already taste the smoke.
Luffyâs grip shiftedânot pulling you closer, not pushing you awayâbut anchoring you both in some wordless, inevitable collision. His breath fanned across your lips, carrying the scent of meat and something sharper, something like lightning splitting the horizon.
You swallowed hard, your own pulse a wild thing thrashing in your throat. His thumb traced the hollow beneath your jaw, calloused skin catching on the delicate flutter of your racing heartbeat.
"Your name," he said suddenly, voice rough with an urgency that didnât belong to himâor maybe it did, buried deep beneath layers of laughter and rubbery limbs. "Say it again."
You didnât need to ask which one. The syllables curled off your tongue like embers, soft and dangerous: Astrea.
The deck beneath you groaned, wood creaking as if the ship itself remembered the weight of that name. Above you, the sails snapped taut against a wind that hadnât been there moments before, billowing with the same sudden violence as Luffyâs sharp inhale. His pupils dilated, black swallowing gold until his eyes were twin eclipsesâand then, impossibly, his grin widened, teeth flashing like the edge of a blade.
"Thatâs right," he murmured, almost to himself. His free hand rose, fingers brushing the air beside your temple as if plucking at invisible threads. "Youâve been here before."
The first drop of rain hit your cheek like a brand. Thunder rolled in the distance, low and hungry, but neither of you flinched.
The Sea Kings were singing now, their voices rising through the depths in a chorus of fractured memoryâsun and star, star and sunâand you knew, with a certainty that curled hot in your belly, that the sky would crack open again soon. But this time, you wouldnât be the only one falling.
Luffyâs fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight enough to hurt, but the pain was sweet, a grounding counterpoint to the dizzying way his breath hitched when you arched against him.
His body felt different nowânot just rubber, not just fleshâbut something older, something that hummed beneath his skin like a second pulse. You could taste it in the air between you, metallic and electric, the scent of ozone before a storm.
His forehead pressed against yours, and for the first time, his grin faltered. âI thinkââ he started, then stopped, his voice rough with something like awe. âI think I dreamed you.â
The deck beneath you shuddered as the waves began to churn, the ocean itself recoiling from the weight of what you both were remembering. You reached for him, fingers skimming the scar on his chest, and the moment your skin touched that raised, sun-warmed flesh, the world went white.
Not with light, but with soundâthe deafening roar of drums, the clash of celestial bodies, the echo of a name screamed across millennia. Your vision blurred at the edges, but you didnât need to see to know his eyes were no longer human.
When the haze cleared, his hands were tangled in the fabric of your shirt, his breathing ragged. âDonât let go,â he whispered, and it wasnât a request. It was a plea, raw and desperate, the voice of a god whoâd spent centuries drowning in silence.
You couldnât have pulled away if you wanted to. The tide was rising. The drums were louder. And somewhere, deep beneath the waves, the Sea Kings were weeping.
The sky fractured. Not in streaks of lightning, but in jagged arcs of goldâlike a mirror shattering from the inside out. You felt it before you saw it: the moment Nikaâs shadow stretched too long, too sharp, the outline of his silhouette warping into something ancient and wild.
His fingers dug into your waist, anchoring you as the deck beneath you buckled, the wood groaning under the weight of a power the world hadnât seen in eight hundred years.
Then came the laughterânot Luffyâs, not anymore, but something deeper, richer, a sound that vibrated through your bones like the aftershock of a dying star.
You tasted it on your tongue, metallic and sweet, as his forehead pressed harder against yours. âFound you,â he breathed, and the words werenât his, werenât theirs, but yours, the ones youâd carved into the fabric of the universe before time had teeth.
The Sea Kingsâ song rose to a crescendo, their voices threading through the storm like a needle through flesh, stitching the sky back together with each thundering note.
You could feel the echoes of their grief in the salt on your lips, the way the rain burned like tears against your skin. LuffyâNikaâshuddered against you, his body wracked with the effort of holding onto a shape that no longer fit.
And then, beneath the chaos, beneath the drums and the weeping and the splintering wood, you heard it: the whisper of a name that wasnât yours, wasnât his, but theirs.
A name the wind carried like a secret, like a promise. Astrea. His grip tightened, his breath hot against your mouth as the world tilted, as the waves rose to meet you both, as the sky finally, finally remembered how to bleed.
His lips brushed yours, and the taste was like swallowing sunlightânot the gentle warmth of dawn, but the violent, devouring fire of a starâs core. You gasped, and he laughed, and the sound was wrong and right and yours, all at once.
His fingers traced the curve of your spine, pressing into the spaces between your vertebrae like he was counting constellations, like he was mapping a path home.
Sun and starâthatâs what theyâd called you, once. Nika, the dawn-breaker, and Astrea, the night-weaver. His light to your shadow, your gravity to his orbit.
The deck beneath you splintered further, the wood groaning as the sea heaved, waves rising like hands reaching to pull you under.
But his arms were tighter, his body a furnace against yours, and you knew, with a certainty that burned brighter than fear, that the ocean would have to tear him apart to take you. . . .
may I please request a Luffy x fem reader, where the reader went out on a mission with Usopp and he actually did something pretty brave and when they got back to the shop Usopp kept talking about how brave he was but everyone thought he was making it up until the reader started boasting about how awesome he was and then Luffy gets all jealous that the readers attention was on Usopp. Itâs kind of a weird request but I thought it would be cute. Thank you :)
Jealous Boy
Summary: Luffy has always had your attention so why should Usopp have it now?
Song: Domino - Jessie J
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
"You should've seen Usopp," you gasped, slamming your palms onto the galley table hard enough to make the plates rattle, "he took out three of the bad guys with nothing but a slingshot and a fucking button." Silence.
Then Nami's spoon clattered into her soup, Zoro's single visible eye twitched, and Sanji's cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth.
Only Luffy stayed motionless, straw hat shadowing his face as he sat cross-legged on the barrel by the doorâunnaturally still for him.
Usopp, still covered in dust and a suspiciously heroic-looking cut across his cheek, puffed up like a startled blowfish. "Iâwellâit was technically a very strategic buttonâ"
"Bullshit," you cut in, grinning as you vaulted over the bench to throw an arm around his shoulders, "he rigged it to explode mid-air like some kind of sniper god."
Your voice dropped conspiratorially, fingers tapping Usopp's collarbone. "Tell them how you made that shot blindfolded after they knocked your goggles off."
Luffy's sandals scraped against the floorboards. Quietly. Which was worse than if he'd shouted.
Usopp stiffened under your arm as Luffy's head tilted up just enough to reveal the set of his jawânot grinning, not pouting. Something unfamiliar.
"Huh," he said, voice oddly flat. "Sounds like you had fun without me."
Sanji exhaled a slow stream of smoke, glancing between you and the captain with the wary tension of a man sensing landmines. Zoro's fingers flexed around his sake cup, but he wisely stayed silent.
You didn't notice, too busy nudging Usopp's ribs. "This loser was terrified," you laughed, "but he still pulled it off likeâ"
The barrel Luffy had been sitting on cracked down the middle with a sound like a gunshot. Straw hat still tipped low, he stood slowly, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"You never cheer for me like that," he muttered, and it wasn't whiningâit was an accusation.
The galley air turned thick enough to choke on. Nami's eyes widened in horrified realization, but you were already turning, grin faltering as Luffy's sandals thudded toward you with deliberate, heavy steps.
His shadow swallowed yours whole when he stopped close enough that you had to tilt your head back to see his face.
"Tell me," he said, voice dropping into something rough and demanding, "what's so special about him?"
You snorted, shoving playfully at his chestâyour palm barely moved him an inch. "Oh please, don't be dramatic. It's not likeâ"
Luffy caught your wrist mid-shove, grip tight enough to make your pulse jump. His thumb pressed into the flutter beneath your skin as he leaned down, straw hat brushing your forehead.
"Try again." The words came out slow, deliberateâa challenge. Behind you, Usopp made a tiny, panicked noise, but Luffy's gaze never wavered from yours.
The denial died on your tongue. Something hot coiled low in your stomach at the way his fingers tightenedâjust shy of painfulâwhen you licked your lips.
The quiet was suffocating now, broken only by Sanji's muttered "oh shit" and the creak of Zoro shifting his weight. Luffy's mouth curved, finally, but it wasn't his usual grin. It was sharp. Hungry. "Didn't think so," he murmured.
"I think you're cool too, Luffy," you admitted, voice embarrassingly breathless.
His thumb stuttered against your pulse point at that, and you swore you felt his breath hitchâjust onceâbefore he exhaled hard through his nose.
His grip loosened, but he didn't let go, fingers sliding down to tangle with yours like he was staking a claim. Usopp made a strangled noise behind you, but you barely heard it over the rush of blood in your ears.
The tension shattered when Luffy suddenly laughedâbright and startledâas if he'd just realized something hilarious. "Good," he declared, squeezing your hand once before releasing it to flop dramatically against your side, his weight nearly knocking you over.
"Because I'm way cooler than Usopp." The abrupt shift was jarring, but the warmth of his cheek pressing against your shoulder was somehow more disarming than the intensity from moments ago.
Behind you, Usopp finally found his voice. "Thatâthat was terrifying," he wheezed, clutching his chest like he'd been the one pinned under Luffy's scrutiny.
Nami buried her face in her hands with a groan while Zoro muttered something about "idiot captains" into his sake. Sanji just sighed and lit another cigarette, eyeing Luffy's smug expression with resigned exasperation.
"You're both insufferable," he grumbled, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Luffy ignored them all, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a satisfied hum. "Say it again," he demanded, voice muffled against your skin. "Louder."
You rolled your eyes but obliged, raising your voice just enough for the others to hear. "Fine, you're the coolestâhappy?" His answering grin was all teeth, pressing hot against your collarbone like a brand.
Sanji exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "Disgusting," he muttered, but the way he nudged a fresh plate of meat toward Luffy's usual seat betrayed him.
Usopp, still pale, edged toward the door like a man escaping a natural disaster. "I'm justâgonna go. Exist elsewhere."
Zoro snorted into his drink. "Smartest thing you've said all day."
Hello! I don't know if your request are open (if not feel free to ignore) but I wanted to ask a fic with Shanks, based on the song Vicious by Bohnes. Thank u for your hard work, and keep it up, you're doing amazing sweetie.
Vicious
Song: Redbone - Childish Gambino
Authorâs note: That was such a great idea! Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The first time you saw him, you knew he'd ruin you. Shanks moved through the raucous tavern like a storm barely containedâgrinning, wild, the scent of salt and something sharper clinging to his skin.
His laughter cut through the drunken clamor, and when his gaze landed on you, it wasn't just a look. It was a promise. You should've turned away. You didn't.
He slid into the seat beside you without invitation, his elbow brushing yours as he flagged down the barkeep. "You don't belong here," he said, not unkindly, but like he'd already peeled you open and found all the broken parts.
The red of his hair was violent under the dim tavern lights, and you hated how your pulse stuttered when he leaned closer.
The drink he pushed toward you was too strong, the kind that burned all the way down. You drank it anyway, because defiance was easier than admitting how badly you wanted to match his recklessness.
His fingers drummed against the sticky wood of the bar, restless, like he was already thinking of the next fight, the next port, the next disaster.
"You're trouble," you muttered, and his grin turned wolfish. "Only if you let me be," he countered, thumb swiping a drop of liquor from the corner of your mouth before you could react.
The touch lingered, deliberate, and you wondered if this was how ships felt before they wreckedâseeing the rocks too late, unable to change course.
The music swelled around you, something loud and reckless, and when Shanks stood, he offered his hand. Not to help you up. To pull you under. You took it.
His grip was warm, rough with calluses, and he spun you into the chaos of the tavern floor like you were already his.
Bodies pressed close, the air thick with sweat and spilled ale, but all you could focus on was the way his hips moved against yoursâconfident, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.
"You're thinking too hard," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot. His teeth grazed your earlobe, just enough to make you gasp. "Stop it."
Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice screamed warnings. You drowned it in the taste of him when he kissed youâsharp, desperate, like he was stealing something. Maybe he was.
His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. The tavern blurred around you, the noise fading to a dull roar.
All you could hear was the hitch of his breath when you bit his lip, the low, approving growl that vibrated against your skin.
Then his hand was at your waist, guiding you backwardâtoward the stairs, toward the dark, toward whatever ruin he had planned. You let him.
The steps creaked underfoot, and his laughter was dark, promising. "Told you," he murmured, pressing you against the wall halfway up, his knee sliding between yours.
The wood was rough against your back, his mouth hotter. You arched into him, past caring about the consequences, about tomorrow, about anything but the way he made your pulse roar in your ears.
"Still trouble?" he teased, nipping at your jaw. You didn't answer. You didn't need to.
His fingers traced the waistband of your pants, slow, testing, and you caught his wristânot to stop him, but to feel the jump of his pulse beneath your grip.
His grin sharpened. "You wanna play rough, sweetheart?" His free hand slid up your thigh, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. "I can oblige."
The distant crash of breaking glass downstairs barely registeredâjust another footnote in the tavern's chaos.
But Shanks stiffened, head tilting like a predator catching a scent. "Ah, fuck," he muttered, though his lips still curved. "Duty calls."
You barely had time to protest before he was dragging you the rest of the way up the stairs, his grip unrelenting.
"Don't worry," he said, kicking open the first door he found, his voice dripping with mischief. "I'll make it worth the interruption."
The room was barely more than a closetâa narrow bed, a single lantern flickering weaklyâbut Shanks didn't seem to care. He backed you against the mattress, one hand already working at the buttons of his shirt while the other kept you pinned.
"Stay," he ordered, though the glint in his eye said he knew you wouldn't.
Downstairs, shouting erupted, followed by the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn. Shanks sighed, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for a chore.
"Five minutes," he promised, pressing a bruising kiss to your mouth. "Then I'm coming back to finish what we started."
The door slammed behind him, leaving you breathless and aching. The bed smelled like himâsalt, iron, something wildâand you hated how empty the room felt without his heat.
Outside, the fight raged on, but all you could think about was the way his teeth had scraped your collarbone, the promise in his touch. Five minutes. You'd wait. You'd always wait.
The shouting downstairs crescendoed into chaos, wood splintering, glass shattering. A body thudded against the wall hard enough to make the lantern sway, casting jagged shadows across your skin.
You traced the path his fingers had taken earlier, your own touch too soft, too hesitant. Not like him. Never like him.
The door burst open again, and Shanks staggered in, blood streaked across his cheekbone, his grin feral. "Told you," he panted, kicking the door shut with his boot.
His shirt was torn, clinging to his chest with sweat, and when he stalked toward you, the hunger in his eyes made your stomach flip. "Miss me?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashed into yours, tasting of copper and recklessness, his hands rough as they mapped your body like he was memorizing it.
The bed groaned under his weight as he pinned you down, his laugh vibrating against your throat. "Now," he growled, nipping at your pulse, "where were we?"
His knee pressed between your thighs, deliberate, relentless, and the friction made your breath hitch. You arched into him, nails scraping down his backâonly for him to catch your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.
"Naughty," he murmured, his free hand sliding under your shirt, calloused fingers tracing your ribs. "Thought I told you to stay put."
The distant clatter of battle still echoed, but it was background noise compared to the way his teeth dragged over your collarbone, sharp enough to make you gasp.
He chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to the sting. "Good," he murmured, his voice rough. "Love it when you make noises for me."
His grip tightened, hips grinding against yours in slow, deliberate circles, and you realizedâtoo lateâthat he'd already won. Every touch, every bite, every whispered taunt was another anchor dragging you deeper.
You didn't care. The bed smelled like him, the air tasted like him, and when he finally stripped you bare, his grin was the last thing you saw before the world blurred.
The lantern's flickering glow painted his scars gold, your fingers tracing the ridges of old battles as he pinned you down, his teeth sinking into your thigh just hard enough to make your back arch.
"Still think I'm trouble?" he murmured against your skin, tongue soothing the sting before you could answer. His laugh was low, vibrating through you like thunderâdark, inevitable.
Then his mouth was everywhere, hot and relentless, dragging moans from your lips like he was pulling them from your ribs. You twisted under him, but he just chuckled, pressing a knee into the mattress to keep you spread open, his thumb circling your clit with infuriating precision.
"You're shaking," he observed, breath fanning over your stomach. "Already?"
Outside, the tavern's chaos had dulled to drunken murmurs, the fight forgotten. All you could hear was the slick sound of his fingers working you open, the hitch of his breath when you clenched around them.
He watchedârapt, hungryâas you came undone beneath him, his name a broken plea on your lips.
"Again," he demanded, dragging you up by the hips, his cock pressing against your entrance in one slow, torturous push. "I want to feel it." His voice was ragged, his control fraying at the edges, and when he finally sheathed himself fully, the groan he let out was raw, unguardedâlike you'd cracked him open too.
The stretch burned, delicious and aching, your thighs trembling against his. He moved with a rhythm that was just shy of cruel, his grip on your waist tight enough to bruise.
Every thrust dragged a gasp from your lungs, his name tangled in your throat, half-plea, half-curse. His laugh was dark, uneven, his forehead pressed to yours as he watched you unravel beneath him.
"That's it," he murmured, biting at your lower lip. "Take it."
The mattress groaned beneath you, the wood frame protesting with every snap of his hips. His fingers dug into your skin, possessive, claiming, as if he could brand you through sheer force of will. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the lantern's flicker casting shadows that danced across his heaving chest.
You reached for himâto push him away, to pull him closerâbut he caught your wrist, pinning it beside your head, his smirk sharp in the dim light. "No," he breathed. "You don't get to hide."
The climax hit you like a storm surge, sudden and overwhelming, your body arching off the bed as pleasure ripped through you. Shanks swore, his rhythm faltering for just a heartbeat before he chased his own release, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he came.
For a moment, the only sound was your mingled breaths, the creak of the bed settling beneath you.
Then he lifted his head, his grin lazy, satisfied, as he brushed a damp curl from your forehead. "Told you I'd make it worth the wait."
His thumb traced the bite mark on your shoulder, the sting dulling into a sweet ache under his touch. Outside, the tavern had gone quiet, the fight resolved or abandonedâit didnât matter.
The only thing that mattered was the weight of him against you, the way his heartbeat thudded against your ribs, out of sync but somehow perfect.
You expected him to pull away, to vanish into the night like smoke, but he didnât. He stayed, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your hip, his breath warm against your throat.
The lanternâs glow had dimmed, the room bathed in a soft, amber haze that made his scars look like gilded cracks in his skin. You reached out, tracing the oldest oneâa jagged line across his ribsâand felt him shiver under your touch.
"That one," he murmured, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm, "was from a man who thought he could take my ship." His laughter was low, edged with something darker. "He was wrong."
Downstairs, a bottle shattered, followed by raucous laughter. Shanks sighed, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him, your body sprawled across his chest like a claim.
"Five more minutes," he muttered, his arm tightening around you. His fingers tangled in your hair, possessive even in exhaustion, and you closed your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his pulse beneath your ear.
The room smelled like sex and salt, like him, and you knewâthis was how youâd remember him: warm, relentless, inevitable.
His free hand traced the curve of your spine, calloused fingertips raising goosebumps in their wake. "Youâre thinking again," he accused, his voice rough with sleep.
You didnât deny it. The way he said it, like he could taste your thoughts on his tongue, made your breath hitch.
His chuckle vibrated through you, low and knowing, before he flipped you beneath him again, his knee slotting between yours like it belonged there. "Stop."
The lantern guttered out, plunging the room into darkness, but you didnât need light to know the exact shade of his smirk when he found your wrist and pinned it above your head.
His teeth grazed your nipple, sharp and sudden, and the gasp you let out was half-laugh, half-moan. "Asshole," you breathed, arching into him. He hummed against your skin, the sound smug. "You love it."
Outside, the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, but neither of you moved. The bed was too small, the air too thick, his body too warm. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible over the distant cry of gulls.
"Stay," he saidânot a request, not an order, but something in between. You didnât answer. You didnât have to.
His fingers traced the curve of your hipbone with a reverence that belied the bruising grip heâd had on you earlier. The callouses on his fingertips caught against your skin in a way that made you shiver, and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat.
"Ticklish?" he murmured, though he knew damn well you werenât. His teeth scraped your pulse point, just enough to make you gasp. "Liar."
The sheets were tangled around your legs, the fabric damp with sweat, and when he shifted, his thigh pressed against yours with deliberate pressure.
You arched into him instinctively, and he groanedâsoft, rough, like the sound had been dragged from somewhere deep in his chest. His hand slid down your stomach, fingers splayed possessively over your belly, and you realized with a jolt that he was counting your breaths.
Outside, dawn had broken fully, the light bleeding through the cracks in the shutters. Shanks sighed, his lips brushing your shoulder. "Sunâs up," he murmured, though his grip tightened, as if he could will the world to wait.
His thumb traced slow circles on your hipbone, the touch lazy but weighted with something unspoken. You didnât move. Neither did he.
The quiet stretched, fragile, until the distant creak of footsteps in the hallway made him tense. His fingers stilled. "Theyâll be looking for me," he said, voice low, resigned. His lips grazed your ear, the words barely audible. "Stay in bed. Let me go first."
The bed shifted as he sat up, his silhouette stark against the pale morning lightâbroad shoulders, the curve of his spine, the scars that mapped his skin like a story youâd only half-read.
When he turned back to you, his expression was unreadable. He reached out, brushing a thumb over your lower lip, his touch lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.
Then, with a final, crooked grin that didnât reach his eyes, he stood and reached for his shirt.
The door clicked shut behind him before you could speak. The room smelled like sex and salt, like him, and suddenly, the bed felt too big. . .
may I please I request a Luffy x fem reader where Luffy has an oblivious crush on the reader, maybe with some bits of Luffy being jealous. thank you :)
Oblivious Crush
Summary: Luffy has an oblivious crush on you and unfortunately for him, you don't notice too
Song: One Dance - Drake
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The first time you noticed something was off about Luffy was when he punched a hole through the mast of the Going Merryânot out of anger, but because you'd laughed at something Usopp said.
His face had gone weirdly blank, straw hat shadowing his eyes, before his fist just⊠went through solid wood like it was made of wet paper. "Whoops," he'd said, grinning that impossible grin of his, but his voice was higher than usual.
You'd chalked it up to another Luffy Thing, until it kept happening: the way he'd suddenly materialize beside you during meals, elbow knocking over Sanji's carefully plated dishes, or how he'd startle Chopper mid-examination by demanding to know if you thought his new scar looked cool.
By the third week, even Zoro had stopped napping through it. "He's being weird," the swordsman grunted one afternoon, watching Luffyâwho was currently hanging upside-down from the riggingâdrop an entire orange into your lap without explanation.
You'd barely peeled it before he snatched half the segments with a speed that would've made Nami's temper flare, if she hadn't been too busy rolling her eyes.
"Weirder than usual," you corrected, spitting out a seed. Zoro just gave you a look that said you're somehow dumber than he is.
The jealousy was subtler than you'd expect from a man who announced his hunger like a naval siren. Like when Buggy's new recruitâsome grinning idiot with a sword twice his sizeâhad dared to challenge you to a duel on that last island.
Luffy hadn't even let the guy unsheathe his weapon before clotheslining him into the next cove with a rubbery arm, then immediately pretending to pick his nose like he hadn't just committed assault.
"You looked busy," he'd said later, shrugging, except you'd been sharpening your knives. Not exactly a high-stakes activity.
And then there was the hat. Your hat, the wide-brimmed one you'd stolen from a Marine captain last summer, salt-stained and perfect for napping under.
Luffy had started stealing it when he thought you weren't looking, only to return it hours later smelling faintly of meat and his own stupid, sun-warmed hair.
You'd catch him adjusting it over your head with a concentration usually reserved for fighting warlords, fingertips brushing your temples like he was afraid you'd vanish if he pressed too hard.
"There," he'd say, satisfied, as if he hadn't just reordered your entire world with two syllables.
The breaking point came during a storm so violent even Nami looked nervous. Lightning split the sky as you wrestled with a loose sail, rain turning the deck into a hazard, when suddenlyâwarmth.
Luffy's arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his chest plastered against your back like a human shield against the downpour.
"Don't drown," he muttered into your sopping hair, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and for a heartbeat, you forgot how to breathe.
Then he was gone, tackling a wayward barrel before it could hit Usopp, laughing like nothing had happened.
That night, curled in the women's quarters with Nami's soft snores filling the dark, you pressed your face into the stolen hat still damp from the storm. It hit you then, slow and inevitable as tide coming in: Luffy didn't do subtle.
The mast, the oranges, the way his sandals squeaked when he pretended not to be following youâthis was him screaming without making a sound. You sat up so fast Robin stirred in her sleep, heart hammering.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Luffy wasâ
Morning found you bleary-eyed at the galley table, nursing coffee thick enough to stand a spoon in.
Sanji slid a plate of eggs toward you with a smirk. "Captain's been asking for you," he said, nodding toward the deck where Luffy wasâof courseâbalanced precariously on the figurehead.
As if sensing your gaze, he turned, straw hat tilting back to reveal that grin, bright as the dawn behind him. Your stomach did something complicated.
You were so fucked.
The realization settled like gunpowder in your veinsâdangerous and liable to blow at the slightest spark. Luffy, who'd once headbutted a sea king for stealing his meat, was currently watching you eat with the intensity of a man starved.
When you accidentally met his eyes, he didn't look away. Just tilted his head, curious, like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. You choked on your toast.
Nami chose that moment to slam her weather logbook onto the table, making you jump. "Either tell him or stop making that face," she muttered, not even looking up from her charts. Your cheeks burned.
Across the deck, Luffy stretched one rubbery arm to snag a passing seagull mid-flight, entirely unsubtle. The bird squawked indignantly as he reeled it in, examining its wings with exaggerated interest.
"Hey," he called, holding it out toward you, "think this one's faster than Buggy's guy?"
The sheer audacity of it punched a laugh out of you. That was the thing about Luffyâhe didn't do hints, didn't do half-measures. If he wanted something, he reached for it with both hands.
And right now, standing there with a baffled seagull in his grip and sunlight caught in his lashes, he was reaching for you. The knowledge hit like a cannonball to the chest: inevitable, devastating, exhilarating.
You stood so fast your chair clattered to the deck. Time to find out if rubber could burn.
You crossed the distance before you could second-guess it, stopping just shy of where his toes curled over the figurehead's edge. The seagull, sensing its opportunity, pecked his wrist and flapped away.
Luffy didn't blink. "You're staring," you said, your voice steadier than your pulse.
His grin widened. "Yep." Simple as that. No pretense, no gamesâjust Luffy, laid bare in a way that made your ribs ache.
You swallowed hard. "Why?"
He cocked his head, considering. "Same reason I punch things that piss me off," he said, like it was obvious. "Feels right."
Then, before you could process that, he leaned forwardâtoo far, too fastâand your hands shot out to catch him on instinct.
His chest collided with yours, warm and solid, his breath a laugh against your cheek. "See?" he murmured, fingers tangling in the fabric of your shirt. "Told you."
Behind you, Usopp's poorly stifled gasp was loud enough to wake the dead. You didn't turn. Couldn't. Not when Luffy's thumb was tracing the hinge of your jaw like he'd mapped it in his sleep, not when his eyes were dark with something hungry and new.
The ship swayed beneath your feet. Or maybe that was just you. "You're gonna fall," you managed. Luffy's grin turned wicked. "Nah," he said. "Got you."
And damn himâdamn him straight to hellâhe was right. . . .
Oh my, I just read your jinbe fic and it was so beautiful, and your writing is so nice! If I could request could you do 'when brook realized he's in love with you'?
The Ghost of a Heartbeat
Summary: when brook realized he's in love with you
Song: Redbone - Childish Gambino
Authorâs note: That was such a great idea! Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
For an undead gentleman like Brook, falling in love isn't just about a racing pulseâit's an awakening of the soul. Discovering love after a lifetime of isolation and loss brings a profound shift to his eternal journey.
The night air outside the Thousand Sunnyâs kitchen was thick with the salty tang of the New World. It was lateâthe kind of late that only the night watch and the insomniacs kept track of.
Below deck, the soft, rhythmic snoring of Luffy and Chopper was muffled by the heavy wood. On the galley deck, however, there was only the gentle scrape of a polished mahogany table and the quiet, melancholic sigh of a violin being tuned.
Brook sat alone, his long, spindly legs crossed as he hunched over his instrument. The single lantern overhead caught the polished ivory of his skull, casting long, dancing shadows across the empty plates from dinner.
He had lived two lifetimes worth of memoriesâfifty years adrift in the dark, skeletal fingers tracing the same melodies over and over until the notes themselves felt like ghosts. He knew sorrow, and he knew joy.
But tonight, as he plucked the strings, the resonance felt entirely different. It vibrated deep within a ribcage that held no heart, yet a warmth spread through his bones that he hadnât felt since the days of the Rumbar Pirates.
A soft click of the galley door interrupted the silence. Brook paused, his empty eye sockets turning toward the entrance as his jaw clicked into a welcoming smile.
"Yo-ho-ho-ho," he murmured, his voice raspy and light. "Is that the lovely Nami-san, or perhaps Robin-san coming to steal my rum?"
"Neither, you old bag of bones." You walked into the warm glow of the galley, wrapping a thick, knitted blanket tighter around your shoulders. You offered him a tired, genuine smile. "Just me. I couldn't sleep. The waves are a bit too loud tonight."
Brookâs posture straightened slightly, the movement betraying an almost comical level of surprise. He set his violin gently onto the velvet cloth beside him and adjusted his yellow hat. "Ah, Y/N-san! Please, sit down."
He gestured with a skeletal hand to the chair opposite him, sweeping an invisible hat off his head in a courteous bow. "A musicianâs late-night symphony is hardly the best lullaby, but you are more than welcome to share the quiet."
"I don't mind it at all," you said, pulling out the chair and sinking into the seat. You rested your chin in your palms, watching him. "In fact, I like it when you play. It's usually the only time things are completely peaceful."
Brookâs permanent, skull-etched grin seemed to soften. He gave a quiet chuckle, the sound echoing lightly in the empty room. "Peaceful, yes. I suppose fifty years of silence teaches a skeleton how to appreciate the quiet moments. Though, having you here certainly makes the Florian Triangleâmetaphorically speakingâa much brighter place."
You let out a soft hum, your eyes tracing the line of his violin. "Do you ever get lonely, Brook? Even with all of us?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and sincere. Brook froze. The memory of the fifty years of drifting, surrounded only by the bones of his fallen Nakama, was a shadow he wore like a well-tailored suit.
He looked away, his fingers absentmindedly tapping a slow rhythm against the wooden table.
"Oh, Y/N-san," he whispered, the humor momentarily draining from his voice. "I have known the absolute, suffocating definition of loneliness. I have sat in the dark with the bones of my friends, playing the same tune, praying that someoneâanyoneâwould hear it. But then... a certain rubber boy broke the door down."
He turned his skull back to face you, his empty sockets somehow conveying an intense, burning affection. "And since I joined this crew, I have never once been lonely. Least of all when I am sitting here, talking to you."
A light blush dusted your cheeks, though you didn't look away. "You say the sweetest things, Brook."
"I mean every word, my dear," he said, and for once, he didn't follow it up with a joke about seeing your undergarments. His tone was entirely stripped of his usual theatrics, replaced by a raw, ancient tenderness.
"You have a very special place in this old skeleton's heart. Even if I don't have one to give you!" He threw in a quick 'Yo-ho-ho-ho!' to lighten the sudden gravity of the confession, but it fell flat, dissolving quickly back into the serious, flickering candlelight.
You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. "I'm really glad you joined us, Brook. I don't know what we'd do without you."
Brook stared at you. Really stared. It struck him then, with the sudden, sharp clarity of a crashing wave, just how much you had burrowed your way into his undead existence. As a skeleton, his life was largely static.
He was the same as he had been decades ago, preserved by the Yomi Yomi no Mi. But youâyou were alive, shifting, and growing.
You brought color to the perpetual black-and-white of his after-life. When you laughed, the sound struck a chord in his soul that vibrated with a sweeter, deeper melody than any song he had ever composed.
Is this love? the thought echoed in the back of his mind. How could a skeleton fall in love? He had no heart to pound against his ribs, no flushed cheeks to betray his affection.
Yet, the intense, overwhelming desire to protect you, to make you smile, and to ensure you were warm and safeâit was a feeling as potent as the day he first picked up a sword to defend his crew.
It was an active, emotional presence, far deeper than a passing compliment or a friendly gesture.
"Brook?" You tilted your head, noticing his sudden silence. "Are you okay?"
Brook snapped out of his reverie, his posture jerking slightly. "Ah! Forgive me, Y/N-san! My mind was simply wandering back through the decades. Itâs a bad habit of a ninety-year-old manâwell, fifty-nine in terms of living years, I suppose!"
He let out another soft 'Yo-ho-ho-ho,' this time carrying a note of genuine, slightly nervous affection.
He leaned forward, the joints in his spine creaking quietly. "Tell me, Y/N-san. Since I am a musician, I often think of life as a grand composition. There are crescendos of battle, rests of sorrow, and staccato moments of adventure. But you... you have become a constant, beautiful melody that plays quietly in the back of my mind. Even when the cannons are roaring or Luffy-san is making a mess, I find myself thinking of you."
Your eyes widened slightly, the blanket slipping just an inch off your shoulders. "Brook... are you being serious right now?"
"I am as serious as a skeleton can be!" Brook gave a small, courtly nod, his bony fingers reaching out across the table to hover just above your hand.
He didn't dare touch itânot yet, fearful of startling you with the cold, unyielding reality of his bones.
"You see, I have sailed this sea for a very, very long time. I have seen the sun rise and set over the Grand Line for decades. I thought my capacity for new feelings had withered away with my flesh. But ever since I met you, Y/N, every day feels like a completely new, unwritten sheet of music."
He swallowed, his skull tilting downward slightly as if he were trying to look you in the eyes.
"To love someone is to will their good, as the philosophers say. And I... I find that my greatest desire in this eternal life is simply to see you happy. To make sure your path is filled with beautiful notes and warm days. Is that not what love is? Even if I can offer you nothing but a song and the company of a dead man?"
The galley was completely silent, save for the lapping of the waves against the hull of the Sunny. The realization that he had just confessed his true feelingsânot as a joke, not as a flirtatious quip, but as the deepest truth of his soulâhung beautifully between you two.
Brook felt a sudden tremor run through his bones, a phantom anxiety that mimicked the nervous pounding of a mortal heart.
He had waited fifty years for companionship, but he had never expected to find a love that transcended life and death.
You looked at him for a long moment, the warmth in your eyes reflecting the soft yellow glow of the lantern. Without a word, you reached across the small gap and placed your warm, living hand directly over his skeletal one.
Your skin was soft, sending a jolt of comforting warmth straight into his cold phalanges.
"Brook," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "You are so much more than a dead man or a collection of bones to me. You are my friend. You are my comfort. And I don't care about the logistics of a heartbeat. I love you too."
Brook went perfectly still. If he had been capable of gasping, the air would have abandoned him entirely. The cool ivory of his face seemed to radiate heat.
He slowly turned his hand over in yours, his bony fingers gently lacing through yours with the utmost care.
"My dear..." he breathed, the word trembling slightly. "I... I don't know what to say. I never thought I would experience the sweetness of love again. I thought my story was destined to end in the dark with my old Nakama. But here you are, bringing such brilliant light into my second life."
A tear, entirely real and glistening in the candlelight, welled up in his left eye socket and traced a slow path down the curve of his skull. It fell with a quiet drip onto the wooden table.
"Oh, excuse me! Iâm crying, and I donât even have eyes to weep with! Yo-ho-ho-ho!" He laughed, but this time the laughter was thick with emotion, a beautiful, vibrating sound that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of his soul. "But please, understand, Y/N-san. These are tears of the most profound joy."
"I understand," you said, smiling at him through your own glistening eyes. You squeezed his hand gently. "I'm really glad I came up here tonight."
"And I am eternally grateful for the insomnia that brought you to me, Y/N-san," Brook replied.
He leaned back in his chair, his posture loose and elegant once more, but his hold on your hand remained firm and protective. "The Florian Triangle was dark and cold for fifty years. But I would gladly drift in the darkest seas for an eternity if it meant I would eventually end up sitting at this table, holding your hand."
He picked up his violin once more with his free hand, resting it against his shoulder. He looked at you, a depth of devotion in his empty gaze that words simply couldn't capture.
"Allow me to play a song for you. Not one of my usual sea shanties, but a brand-new composition. A song just for you, Y/N. To mark the day this old skeletonâs soul truly came back to life."
The bow touched the strings, and the first note rang out into the quiet night. It wasn't the frantic, chaotic music of a party, or the mournful dirge of the Bink's Sake he had played for decades in the dark.
It was soft, lilting, and incredibly warm. It swept through the galley like a gentle breeze, telling a story of a long journey, a dark wait, and the brilliant, unexpected sunrise that followed.
As the music filled the room, Brook watched you. He watched the way the lantern light caught your hair, the way your breathing slowed to match the rhythm of his playing, and the peaceful, happy expression on your face.
He memorized every single detail, etching it into a memory that didn't require flesh or blood to hold.
For an undead man, fifty years of solitude had left deep scars on his spirit. But playing this song, for this person, made every single day of the dark wait worth it.
The silence of the past fifty years was finally broken by a melody that he knew would last for the rest of eternity. He realized then that love wasn't about having a beating heart or blushing cheeks.
It was about the emotional connection, the quiet comfort of presence, and the sheer joy of knowing that even in a chaotic world, you were exactly where you were meant to be.
The final note vibrated into the air, slowly fading out until there was only the gentle swoosh of the sea against the wood. Brook lowered the bow, the silence returning, but it was no longer the lonely, heavy silence of the past. It was comfortable, warm, and shared.
"Did you like it, Y/N-san?" he asked, his voice returning to its lighter, theatrical tone, though the lingering tenderness remained underneath.
"It was beautiful, Brook," you said, leaning over to gently kiss the top of his skull. "Truly beautiful."
Brook froze, his entire frame vibrating with a joyful tremor. He touched his hand to the spot where you had kissed him, his jaw dropping in an exaggerated expression of shock.
"Oh! Y/N-san! How scandalous! To take advantage of an innocent skeleton like this! Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!" He threw his head back, laughing into the night air. "But... I suppose I don't mind it at all! In fact, I would very much like it if you did that again!"
You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his sudden shift back to his eccentric self. But you didn't let go of his hand. "You're incorrigible, Brook."
"And you are my greatest masterpiece," he replied smoothly, lifting his hand to give yours a courtly, gentle squeeze. "Now, my dear, it is very late. If we don't get some rest, Nami-san will surely make us walk the plank for keeping the lights on!"
He stood up from his chair, his bones creaking musically. He walked around the table, bowing deeply as he offered you his arm. "Shall we retire to our quarters, Y/N-san? This old gentleman promises to be a very courteous, very romantic escort."
You smiled, taking his bony arm and letting him lead you out of the galley. The night was still dark, and the ocean was vast and unpredictable, but as you walked through the quiet corridors of the Thousand Sunny with the skeleton gently humming a soft, loving melody, you knew that you were completely safe.
For Brook, having you by his side transformed the perilous New World into a stage where every day was an opportunity to show you how much you meant to him.
The rest of the crew slept on, oblivious to the quiet romance that had blossomed in the heart of the ship. Downstairs, the sleeping quarters were peaceful.
But up on deck, and in the quiet hallways, the music lingeredâa testament to a love that had defied time, distance, and even death itself.
The next morning, the sun rose over the vast horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of gold and pink. The Thousand Sunny sailed steadily on, cutting through the calm blue waters of the New World.
Down in the galley, Sanji was already bustling about, the clatter of pots and pans announcing the start of a new day. But long before the rest of the crew awoke, Brook had been up, sitting in his favorite spot, softly playing his violin.
The melody was the very same one he had composed for you the night beforeâa soft, lilting tune that held all the warmth and joy of his newfound realization.
When you walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, Brookâs skull immediately turned toward you. A bright, welcoming grin seemed to stretch across his features.
"Yo-ho-ho-ho! Good morning, Y/N-san!" he chirped, his voice echoing cheerfully in the room. "I hope you slept well! The early morning sun is quite beautiful today, isn't it?"
You smiled, walking over to sit beside him. "Good morning, Brook. I slept wonderfully. Did you?"
"Oh, like a log!" he chuckled, though the joke was slightly lost on a skeleton who had no muscles to relax. "Though, to be honest, I spent most of the night thinking about our little conversation. I even wrote the second verse to my new song!"
He picked up his violin again, adjusting his yellow hat. "Would you like to hear it? I believe it has a rather lovely staccato section that perfectly captures how my heart would beat if I still had one!"
"I'd love to hear it, Brook." You rested your chin on your hands, watching him intently.
Brook nodded, his bony fingers expertly positioning the bow. As the first notes filled the air, the heavy scent of Sanjiâs cooking began to mingle with the gentle music. It was a perfect, ordinary moment aboard the Thousand Sunny.
But for Brook, every single note he played was a declaration. It was his way of speaking the words he had confessed the night before, over and over, in a language that transcended the boundaries of life and death.
When he finished the verse, he held a long, vibrating note that seemed to hang in the air like a promise. He lowered the bow and looked at you, the love in his hollow eyes radiating a warmth that went far deeper than any physical flush.
"You know, Y/N-san," he whispered, leaning in closer so that only you could hear. "I spent fifty years in the dark, believing that the music of the Rumbar Pirates was the only thing that kept me tethered to this world. I thought I was just a ghost, doomed to wander the Florian Triangle forever. But now... I realize that I am exactly where I belong. And you are the reason I am so grateful to be alive."
You reached out, covering his bony hand with yours. "You're not a ghost to me, Brook. You're the most alive person I know."
Brookâs jaw dropped in his classic comical shock, though his hold on your hand remained firm. "Oh! Y/N-san! To say such things to an innocent skeleton! You'll make my non-existent heart flutter right out of my chest! Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!"
He laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the galley just as Sanji stepped over with a plate of breakfast for you.
"Stop flirting with the guests, you bag of bones," the cook grumbled, though a small, fond smile touched the corner of his lips. "Eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
"Ah, Sanji-san! Such hospitality!" Brook cheerfully accepted the plate, though he didn't let go of your hand. "A musician must keep his energy up, especially when he has a lovely lady to serenade!"
You laughed, taking a bite of your food while Brook, with exaggerated and elegant gestures, managed to eat his own meal without his face getting in the way.
It was a noisy, chaotic, and wonderfully normal morning for the Straw Hat Pirates.
But throughout the day, whether you were relaxing on the deck, helping Nami with the maps, or just watching the waves, Brook was never far behind.
He would offer you his umbrella when the sun got too hot, play a cheerful, upbeat tune to keep your spirits up while you worked, or simply sit beside you and share the quiet moments of the afternoon.
He was there, offering not just a presence, but a constant, emotional engagement that made you feel cherished and protected.
For a man who had once been entirely alone, every second spent with you was a treasure he refused to take for granted. He had realized his love for you, and he intended to spend the rest of his eternal life proving it.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple, you found yourself standing at the railing of the Thousand Sunny.
The sea breeze was cool, whipping your hair gently around your face. You leaned against the wood, watching the end of another adventure.
A gentle step sounded behind you, and a familiar yellow hat appeared in your peripheral vision. Brook stood beside you, leaning against the railing with a long, elegant sigh.
"The sunset is quite magnificent today, isn't it, Y/N-san?" he murmured, his violin case slung securely over his back.
"It really is," you agreed, turning to smile at him. "I think this has been one of the best days we've had in a while."
"And I believe it is because we have each other," Brook said softly. He reached out, his long, bony fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.
His touch was as light and careful as a falling feather, but the affection behind it was as heavy and solid as the anchor of the ship. "You have brought such brilliant color to this old skeleton's world. Even when we are sailing through the most dangerous waters, I never feel the cold anymore."
You leaned into his touch, your hand coming up to rest on the ivory curve of his cheekbone. "I love you, Brook."
Brook went perfectly still, the sea breeze ruffling his afro as he stared down at you. The love he felt for you was a living, breathing thing, vibrating deep within a soul that refused to be silenced.
He leaned his head slightly into your palm, his permanent grin widening with a genuine, ancient tenderness.
"And I love you, Y/N-san," he whispered, his voice trembling just enough to convey the depth of his emotion. "For all of eternity, and even beyond that."
He took a step back, sweeping an invisible hat off his head in a courtly, dramatic bow. "Now, my dear! The stars are beginning to come out, and a musician's work is never done! Allow me to play a song to welcome the eveningâa tune that will surely be as beautiful as the lady standing before me!"
He pulled out his violin, resting it against his shoulder with practiced ease. As the first notes drifted into the cool night air, you stood by the railing, listening to the man who had survived fifty years in the dark to bring such beautiful music into your life.
The silence of the Florian Triangle was nothing but a memory now, replaced by a melody of love and companionship that you knew would echo for the rest of your days.
The rest of the crew might have been shouting and laughing below deck, but up here, the night belonged to the two of you.
And as Brook played the final, lingering note of the evening, he knew with absolute certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to beâbeside you, sharing the beautiful, unwritten music of your life together. . . . .
Woah đź luv your latest fic đ„°, could I request to reader more of Luffy and reader with sun âïž x moon đ vibes (can take place during canon events, pre/post timeskip) if itâs alright (take your time)
A few ideas for reader abilities; create, construct, absorb energy, and use the energy to self heal or others (plot twist, itâs moonlight energy đ)
The Parallel Dawn
Song: Breathe - W. AVE
Authorâs note: Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The night air is thick with the brine of the Grand Line and the smell of gunpowder. Your body hums with quiet, pale energy as you pull moonlight from the sky, ready to protect your impulsive captain as he battles the shadows.
The Thousand Sunny pitches and rolls, her wooden beams groaning against the relentless assault of cannon fire. Above, the New World sky is a bruised violet, but your hands are glowing.
Your fingers weave through the salt-crusted air, constructing solid barriers of silvery, luminescent starlight that deflect incoming lead and iron. You are the stillness to his storm.
Where Luffy is the blazing sunâan explosive, laughing force of nature that crashes through the darkâyou are the moon, absorbing the exhaustion, mending the wounds, and bathing the chaos in a cooling, replenishing light.
Luffy lands beside you with a heavy, rubberized thud, his chest heaving. His straw hat is askew, red vest torn, and blood leaks from a gash on his forehead. Even in the face of an entire fleet, his grin is impossibly wide, teeth flashing in the dark.
"Yosh! That was a close one, huh? They're really strong!" he chuckles, punching a bruised fist into his opposite palm. The rubber snaps and stretches. He wipes a smear of blood across his chin, completely unbothered by the sheer volume of his injuries. "But we're gonna win! I can feel it in my stomach!"
You step closer to him, the soft, pale energy wrapping around your wrists. "You say you feel it in your stomach, but your body is covered in bruises, Luffy," you sigh, your voice cutting through the din of the battle.
He turns to look at you, his coal-black eyes wide and bright. He trusts you completelyâso much so that he lowers his guard the second you are near, dropping his shoulders and letting out a long breath. "Shishishi! It's fine, it's fine! I'm made of rubber, remember? It all just bounces off!"
"Not bullets, and certainly not the captain of that battleship," you murmur, though a small, fond smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You reach out, your palms hovering just inches from his scraped chest.
Instantly, the atmosphere changes. A hush seems to fall over the immediate deck of the ship. Where the sun is hot, erratic, and demanding, your power is a gentle, pullâa quiet vacuum that draws in the ambient luminescence of the night.
You close your eyes, focusing your mind, and channel the cosmic energy youâve been absorbing from the cloudless sky.
As your hands make contact with his scarred skin, the silver light flares. Itâs cool to the touch, not like fire, but like the refreshing breeze atop a mountain at midnight. You aren't just pushing energy into him; you are constructing a bridge between the moon and his core.
Luffy lets out a soft, surprised hum, his eyes locking onto your face. He watches the way your brows knit together in concentration, the silvery glow reflecting in your irises.
The tired slump of his shoulders vanishes, his rubbery skin absorbing the moonlight like parched earth drinks rain. The scrapes on his arms begin to seal, closing up until his skin is smooth and unblemished once more.
"Wow..." he whispers, the low rumble vibrating through his chest against your palms. "It feels like I just ate a mountain of meat and took a really long nap! Youâre amazing, Y/N!"
You pull your hands back as the silver glow fades, leaving behind a subtle, lingering trail of stardust in the air. You let out a breath, feeling the slight drain of energy in your own limbs. "Save the compliments for after we win, Captain. We still have a fleet to deal with."
"Right!" Luffy barks out a laugh, punching the air. "Let's go kick their butts!"
Before you can even take a step forward, a massive cannonball tears through the mainsail, sending wood splinters raining down across the deck.
Through the smoke and chaos, three towering silhouettes of Marine commodores emerge, their heavy coats billowing in the wind as they draw their flintlock pistols and cutlasses.
Luffy doesn't hesitate. He never does. With a bellowed "Gum-Gum... Pistol!", his arm stretches back into the shadows of the rigging, gathering insane momentum.
His punch connects with the center commodore, sending the man flying backward through the wooden railing.
"They're not stopping!" Usopp shrieks from the starboard rail, firing his Kabuto slingshot. "There's too many of them, and we're getting surrounded!"
Nami shouts orders from the helm, desperately trying to steer the ship out of the crossfire, but the Marine ships have the Sunny boxed in. The deck shudders violently as another volley of cannon fire pounds into the hull.
Luffy lands a flurry of kicks and punches, knocking out a wave of fodder Marines, but more keep pouring onto the deck. A shadow falls over him, and one of the commodores leaps from the rigging, a blade coated in Armament Haki descending swiftly toward Luffy's unprotected back.
"Y/N!" Nami screams.
You don't need to be told. Your mind is already racing, calculating the distance and the flow of the battle. You lift your arms, and for a fleeting second, the silvery light from your fingertips constructs a dense, shimmering barrier of solidified moonlight directly in the path of the blade.
The sword crashes into your barrier with a deafening screech of metal on star-forged energy. The commodore's eyes widen in shock as the force of his own blow rebounds against his arms, throwing him off balance.
"Leave him to me!" you shout, leaping into the air.
You raise your hand, focusing the energy you've been storing. Instead of just healing, you channel the absorb-and-construct aspect of your power. You reach out toward the moonlight reflecting off the dark, churning ocean below.
You pull the raw, fluid energy from the moonbeams dancing on the waves, drawing it into your palms. It condenses, twisting and hardening in the air until you form a brilliant, glowing crescent spear of moonlight.
You swing your arm forward, sending the construct flying toward the deck. It moves with a silent, graceful arc that parts the smoky air, slamming into the mast and sending a shockwave of stardust outward that knocks the remaining Marines off their feet.
Luffy catches the commodore mid-air with a "Gum-Gum... Stamp!", slamming him into the deckboards with enough force to crack the wood.
The deck falls into a brief, stunned silence. The Marines stare at you, their guns shaking in their hands, utterly terrified of the pale, glowing energy radiating from your body.
"Shishishi! That was so cool!" Luffy bounds over to you, his eyes sparkling like stars. He wraps a long, rubbery arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so suddenly that your feet leave the deck. "You made a glowing sword! I want a glowing sword! Can I eat a glowing sword?"
"No, you can't eat moonlight, Luffy," you laugh, though your heart does a frantic flip in your chest at his closeness.
You can feel the intense, sun-like heat radiating from his skin. Itâs so different from your own energyâwarm, chaotic, and brimming with boundless life.
"Why not? It looks delicious!" he pouts playfully, his face mere inches from yours. He leans in closer, sniffing your hair as if heâs trying to figure out what you smell like. "You smell like the ocean at night, though. I like it. It's nice."
Your face burns a bright, furious red. Despite having sailed together for years and fought through the fires of hell and the icy depths of the ocean, you have never quite gotten used to how easily he invades your personal space. "Luffy, put me down! Weâre in the middle of a battle!"
"But they're all sleeping now!" Luffy points out cheerfully. He turns his head, glancing at the fallen Marines scattered across the deck. His grin widens. "And besides, we're almost out of their range! Nami said so!"
"That doesn't mean we can just stop paying attention!" You try to wriggle out of his grasp, but his grip is like iron. He's incredibly strong when he wants to be, and right now, he has no intention of letting you go.
"Just a minute," he whispers, suddenly serious. The chaotic energy in his body settles into a quiet, steady warmth. He rests his forehead against yours, his dark hair brushing against your cheeks. "I was getting tired back there, you know. I thought I pushed too hard."
Your breath catches in your throat. You reach up, your glowing fingertips resting on his shoulders. "I know. That's why I gave you the energy."
"Yeah." He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of you. "It feels really good. Like you're holding everything together when I'm just running around breaking things."
"That is exactly what I do, you idiot," you tease softly, though you can feel your own tension melting away into his warmth. "You break things, and I fix them. It's how we work."
"Yeah," Luffy repeats, his voice a low hum. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze impossibly intense. "We're the best team, aren't we? The sun and the moon. We go everywhere together."
Before you can respond, a loud, familiar crash echoes from the other side of the deck.
"Get your hands off Y/N, you rubber brained idiot!" Sanji yells, his leg engulfed in the fiery glow of Diable Jambe as he descends from the rigging. "We have to secure the ship before the next cannon volley hits, and you're just standing there cuddling!"
"Sanji! Food!" Luffy immediately perks up, letting go of you and bounding toward the galley doors with his tongue hanging out. "I'm starving after all that punching!"
"After I kick your skull into the mainmast, you bastard!" Sanji screams, but Luffy is already long gone, disappearing into the kitchen before a foot can connect.
You stand in the middle of the deck, your heart still hammering against your ribs, and your hands slowly stop glowing. You look up at the night sky, watching as the moon peeks out from behind a silver cloud. You let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking your head.
"That's our captain," you murmur to the wind.
The days and weeks that follow are a blur of sailing, island-hopping, and constant, roaring laughter. You grow accustomed to Luffyâs sudden declarations, his demands for meat, and the way he always seeks you out when the moon is high in the sky.
It happens again on a quiet, starry night near Dressrosa. The Straw Hats are celebrating a recent victory, and the Thousand Sunny is anchored in a peaceful bay.
The air is warm, but the sea breeze carries a chill that makes your moonlit abilities hum in your veins.
You are sitting on the figurehead of the ship, watching the moonlight ripple on the dark water. The crew is asleep below deck, exhausted from the day's festivities, but you find yourself unable to sleep.
Your body feels restless, as if the cosmos are trying to tell you something.
"Y/N?"
A familiar, raspy voice cuts through the quiet. You turn your head to see Luffy climbing out of the galley window. He is shirtless, his straw hat dangling behind his back, and his stomach is comically distended from eating half of Sanjiâs emergency rations.
He clambers up the rigging with practiced ease, his rubbery limbs stretching effortlessly, and drops down beside you on the figurehead. He doesn't say anything at first, just settles himself beside you, his warm thigh pressing against your side.
"What are you doing up so late?" you ask, shifting slightly to give him room.
"I couldn't sleep," Luffy answers simply. He stares out at the water, his eyes reflecting the silver glow of the moon. "And I thought you'd be out here."
"Oh? Why's that?"
He turns to look at you, his serious face a stark contrast to his usual boisterous demeanor. He reaches out, his large, rough hand covering your smaller one. "Because the sky is so big. And you're always connected to the stars and the moon."
You feel your cheeks flush, the heat spreading from your neck down to your chest. "Luffy..."
"When we were fighting Doflamingo," he says, his voice quiet, "I pushed too hard. My body wouldn't move. I thought I was done for." He squeezes your hand, his grip firm and grounding. "But then I felt it. This really cool, cold feeling on my neck. Like someone was wrapping me in a blanket made of stars."
You look down, your heart skipping a beat. "That was my moonlight," you whisper. "I was constructing a barrier of energy to protect you, and I sent the residual stardust into your body to heal your muscles."
"It was great," Luffy smiles, his characteristic grin returning, though it's much softer now. He leans his head against your shoulder. "It felt like you were right there with me, even when I was flying through the air trying to beat up Doflamingo. It made me feel like I could do anything."
"You're an idiot, Luffy," you murmur, leaning your head against his tangled, black hair. "You can do anything. You're going to be the Pirate King."
"Yeah! I am!" he barks out a laugh, the sound vibrating through your shoulder. He tilts his head up, looking into your eyes. "But I can't do it without you. You're my navigator... no, you're my moonlight. You fix me when I'm broken."
"That's your crew's job, too. Chopper is the doctor, Sanji provides the food..."
"No, it's different with you." Luffy pulls away, taking both of your hands in his. He leans in closer, his dark eyes searching your face with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Chopper patches up my skin, but you... you patch up the part of me that just wants to go, go, go. You make me stop and breathe. You're the moon to my sun, Y/N. I don't want to be the Pirate King if you aren't there to see it."
Your eyes widen, the intense honesty in his voice stripping away all your doubts and fears. You have always known that your abilities are tied to himâthat the moon exists to balance the sun, that your powers of healing and construction are the perfect complement to his explosive, rubbery chaosâbut you never expected him to understand it so deeply.
"Luffy..."
"I love you, Y/N," he blurts out, as easily and naturally as if he were telling you heâs hungry.
His face is entirely earnest, his cheeks flushed a faint, adorable pink in the moonlight. "I don't really know how to explain it, but you're my favorite person. Even more than meat."
A tiny, breathless laugh escapes your lips, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You lean in, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close. You can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, just as fast as yours.
"I love you too, you big dummy," you whisper into his ear, burying your face in his warm, muscular neck.
Luffy lets out a joyful whoop, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and lifting you up into the air as if you weigh nothing at all. He spins around on the figurehead, his rubbery arms stretching and twisting, causing you both to laugh as the starlight seems to dance around you.
"Shishishi! We're gonna have the best adventure!" he crows, his voice carrying across the quiet bay.
The peace doesn't last forever. The Grand Line is a dangerous place, and the very next day, the Thousand Sunny is caught in the middle of a massive, swirling maelstrom, with a Yonko's fleet closing in from behind.
The sky is black, the churning sea turning to a dark, violent green beneath the flashing lightning. Cannonballs rain down from the massive galleys of the enemy fleet, their explosions turning the water to froth.
Luffy is in his Gear Fourth form, his body bouncing and stretching through the rainy sky as he pummels the enemy ships with the force of a rubberized meteor.
But the fight is taking its toll. Even his rubber body is beginning to smoke from the sheer exertion of his techniques, and the enemy's numbers are overwhelming.
"Y/N!" Luffy shouts, his voice booming through the storm as he lands heavily on the deck, his Gear Fourth form rapidly deflating. He drops to his knees, his chest heaving, his body slick with rain and sweat. He's panting, his Haki exhausted to its absolute limit. "I need... I need more!"
You are already at his side, the pale, silvery glow of your moonlit energy flaring to life in the pouring rain. The storm clouds above part just slightly, a single beam of cold, silvery moonlight piercing through the gloom and striking your upturned face.
You raise your hands, drawing in the absolute maximum of cosmic energy. The sea water, the rain, and the dark sky all seem to channel their luminescence into your palms.
It isn't just a quiet glow anymore; it's a roaring surge of pale, silver fire that constructs a vast, shimmering dome of moonlight around the Thousand Sunny.
The enemy's cannonballs crash into your barrier, exploding harmlessly against the solidified starlight, the shockwaves washing over the deck without damaging the hull.
You drop to your knees beside Luffy, your arms wrapping around his broad, shaking shoulders. "I've got you," you whisper, your voice carrying through the thunder.
You press your palms into the center of his chest. The silver energy floods into him, a literal river of moonlight flowing directly into his core. You can feel his fatigue, his pain, and the overwhelming heat of his exhausted sun-like energy pushing back against your palms.
Itâs an intense struggle of elementsâa clash of the blazing, midday sun and the cool, endless void of the midnight cosmos. But as your powers merge, they don't fight; they construct a new, harmonious force.
Luffy gasps, his eyes rolling back slightly before focusing on your face. His body absorbs the moonlight, the pale energy tracing silver lines across his tanned skin.
The smoke dissipates from his arms, his muscles re-inflating with a sudden burst of rubbery elasticity, and the deep gashes on his legs seal and disappear.
"Wow..." he whispers, the color returning to his face. He blinks, looking at his hands, before his face cracks into that familiar, brilliant grin. "I can feel it! It's so cool! It's like a giant, cold shower made of meat!"
"It's moonlight, you idiot," you laugh, though you are exhausted from the effort, your own energy drained to a thread.
"Yeah, moonlight!" Luffy bellows. He leaps to his feet, throwing his hands into the air and constructing his own chaotic, sun-like energy around his fists.
He turns to the enemy fleet, his straw hat settling firmly on his head. "And now I'm gonna kick their butts into the ocean!"
He doesn't wait. With a mighty "Gum-Gum... Elephant Gun!", he stretches his arm high into the stormy sky, the pale, silver moonlight you just gave him coating his rubberized fist and glowing like a celestial meteor.
He punches the flagship of the Yonko fleet with enough force to split the mast in two, the shockwave knocking the entire crew into the churning sea.
You watch him from the deck, your heart swelling with pride, your body trembling with a mixture of exhaustion and profound love. You are the moon, and he is the sun, and together, you illuminate the darkest corners of the Grand Line.
The battle rages for hours, but with the combined might of your moonlit constructs and Luffy's sun-like strength, the enemy fleet is slowly but surely driven back, their ships sinking into the depths of the maelstrom.
When the sun finally begins to rise over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink, the Thousand Sunny sails out of the storm and into calm, quiet waters.
The crew is cheering, Sanji is preparing a massive breakfast, and Luffy is loudly boasting about how he beat up the enemy captain.
You are sitting on the edge of the Sunny's deck, your legs dangling over the side, watching the golden sunbeams dance across the waves. The moon is fading from the sky, leaving you feeling tired but deeply, wonderfully peaceful.
"Y/N!"
Luffy comes bounding over, his straw hat hanging from his neck. He is covered in salt water and rain, but his skin is completely whole and healthy, his eyes sparkling like the newly risen sun. He flops down beside you, his long leg tangling with yours.
"We won!" he crows, punching the air. He turns his face to look at you, his serious gaze taking in the pale, tired circles under your eyes. He reaches out, his large hand gently cupping your cheek. "You're tired."
"I used too much energy," you murmur, leaning into his warm palm. "But it was worth it."
"Yeah, it was." Luffy leans in, pressing a soft, clumsy kiss to your forehead, his nose squishing against yours. He wraps a large, rubbery arm around your shoulder, pulling you tightly against his chest. "You're the best, Y/N. I couldn't do it without you."
"I know," you laugh, resting your head against his heart.
"Shishishi! When I'm Pirate King, you're gonna be right there, right?" Luffy asks, his voice suddenly quiet and demanding. He tilts his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises reflecting the golden sunlight and the fading silver of the moon. "Always?"
"Always," you whisper. You close your eyes, breathing in his warm, chaotic scent.
You are the moon to his sun, the cool, silver energy that mends his wounds and balances his blazing fire. Together, you construct a path to the ends of the earth, sailing toward the horizon with the stars as your guides and the ocean as your playground.
There is no one without the other, and there is no dream without you both. . . .
I got a request u would like to share (a bit sad at the beginning but not for long), during the battle at Wano, while Luffys down, reader tries to buy time for him by fighting Kaido, but ends up badly wounded and dies. When Luffy finds the reader, memories of Ace moments come flooding into his mind. Then when heâs defeated by Kaido, transforms into Kaido, and reader comes back to life to cause their fruit is a parallel to his and is connected (readers devil fruit is based off your latest fic). Aftermath of battle, Luffy is glad reader is alive,
Not Another Goodbye
Summary: When you died, Luffy had never felt so much anger. No. He couldn't lose another. You always came back....
Song: So High - Doja Cat
Authorâs note: I love this idea! Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
Your feet do not touch the jagged, blood-stained stones of the skull dome; they hover inches above them, treading on compressed gravity and pale starlight.
The air above the roof of Onigashima has turned into an unnatural, shivering silver. You are the only thing standing between the Emperor of the Sea and a rubber boy gasping for air in the crater of a broken floor.
"Not another step, Kaido."
Your voice is steady, even as the metallic tang of your own blood leaks from your lip. You pull the moonlight into your hands, condensing the glow until it solidifies into a shining, razor-sharp spear.
The Tsuki Tsuki no Mi doesn't give you the sheer, blistering heat of the sun, but it gives you something the great dragon lacks: agility.
Kaidoâs hybrid form shifts, a booming, drunken laugh rumbling from his massive chest. He swings his massive club, Hassaikai, leaving black lightning tearing through the air.
You donât block it. You twist, your body dissolving into harmless white photon particles just as the spiked iron crashes through where your heart was a millisecond before.
You reappear behind his horn, shifting your gravity to crash down on him with a moon-weighted kick.
Clang!
The force doesn't knock him over, but it snaps his horned head sideways, enough to draw a roar of annoyance.
You are darting around him like a moth made of light, blinding him with flashes of luminance, forcing the sun's harsh reality to fade under the pale glow of a midnight tide.
"Youâre an annoying little bug," Kaido growls, his armament haki coating his kanabo so thickly it drips like black tar.
He isnât playing anymore. His eyes flash, and he moves faster than a creature his size should. You see the blur of black iron. You try to shift, to turn to pure light and slip through the strike, but you are a breath too slow. The tip of the club catches you square in the abdomen.
The world fractures into white noise.
Your breath leaves you in a spray of red. The gravitational pull you had clamped around Kaidoâs ankles shatters like glass, sending you hurtling backward through the masonry of the roof, crashing through timber and stone until you hit the cold, unyielding bedrock of the castle's highest floor.
Silence follows the impact. The moonlight you generated fades, the silver sky reverting to the dark, stormy gloom of a Wano night.
Your eyes, wide and unblinking, stare up at the broken rafters. Your chest doesn't rise.
Below on the rooftop, the battle rages on, but there is a sudden, terrifying shift in the heartbeat of the world.
Luffyâs eyes fly open, though his body is battered beyond its limits. He had been down, trying to catch his breath, listening to the muffled clash of you fighting his greatest enemy.
Now, the clash has stopped. The lunar glow he had felt in the back of his mindâa constant, reassuring pull that reminded him he wasn't aloneâsnaps out like a candle caught in a sudden downpour.
Luffy pushes himself up, his straw hat lying torn on the planks beside him. His legs wobble. He moves blindly, instinctively, following the trail of destruction you left behind.
"Hey..." Luffy mumbles, dragging his heavy, rubbery feet. "Hey, get up. We still gotta beat him up!"
He rounds a pile of smoking rubble, his eyes scanning the gloom. Then, he sees you.
Youâre lying there, completely still, pale as the moon itself. A pool of dark red gathers beneath you, soaking into your clothes.
Luffy drops to his knees, his hands scrambling across the jagged rocks until he reaches your side. He shakes your shoulder, his fingersâcalloused and sticky with bloodâclasping your cold arm.
"Oi... wake up. Stop playing around." His voice starts as a stubborn, high-pitched demand, but quickly cracks into something small and hollow.
He pulls you against his chest, his large hands awkwardly trying to shield you from the harsh wind howling through the ruined tower.
No.
The thought hits him like a physical blow, cold and agonizing. The straw hat falls entirely off his head as his vision swims. A rushing sound fills his ears, louder than the cannons outside.
He sees the burning red beads, the white cloth, the hole punched through a crimson chest. No, not again. I canât.
The memory of Marineford bleeds into the night air of Wano. The exact same suffocating, empty weight slams into Luffyâs chest. The taste of salt, the smell of gunpowder, and the ghost of a brotherâs smile. It all comes rushing back, violently twisting his insides into knots.
"Not you," Luffy chokes out, the words wet and desperate against your hair. "You promised. You..."
His grip on your shirt tightens, his knuckles turning white. His face buries into your collarbone, his body trembling with the sort of raw, primal terror that only comes when the people he loves are ripped from him.
The tears fall freely now, hot and heavy, mixing with the red on your clothes.
"I can't lose you," he sobs, his rubber skin stretching slightly as he pulls you impossibly close. "I won't let it happen! I can't be King of the Pirates if you're not there to see it!"
His voice is a shattered plea to the empty sky, ignored by the storm clouds above. He sits there, utterly frozen, a broken boy holding a ghost, entirely disconnected from the war waging mere levels above them.
Downstairs, Kaido descends, his massive dragon form breathing fire as he tears through the remaining samurai, seeking the boy who dared to challenge him again. He finds him.
Luffy is still clutching your body, not even looking up at the approaching emperor.
"Still crying?" Kaido snorts, the clouds of flame swirling around his scales. "That brat didn't have the strength to stand up to me. And neither do you."
The Yonko lunges, his massive jaws snapping closed around Luffy. The force of the blow sends Luffy skidding across the shattered floorboards. Heâs tossed aside like a discarded toy, rolling over and over until he slams into a stone pillar.
Luffy doesn't scream. He just stops.
His head lolls forward, completely motionless. The drums of liberation beat faintly in the background, but the rhythm is ragged, dying away under the crushing weight of grief and exhaustion. His body slumps.
Everything is gone.
In that moment of total, devastating defeat, the universe seems to hold its breath. The storm above Wano pauses.
And then, deep within the ruined castle, a different kind of glow begins to spark.
Your body, still cradled where Luffy had dropped you, doesn't stay cold. A soft, pearlescent light begins to bleed from your fingertips. It isn't the piercing, solar light of the Sun Godâitâs the gentle, magnetic pull of the moon.
It reacts to the dying embers of Luffy's life, resonating with his awakening heart. The Tsuki Tsuki no Mi has a final, hidden property: it is the counterpart to the Sun God Nika, a gravitational anchor to the darkness, designed to bring the tides when the sun sets.
The white light swirls around you like a mist, mending torn tissue, pulling the crimson from the stones, and re-igniting the pulse in your throat.
Your eyes snap open, gasping for a breath of air that was stolen from you just minutes before. Your hands, glowing faintly with soft starlight, press against the cold stone floor. You're alive.
A few feet away, Luffyâs body undergoes a bizarre transformation. The straw hat he dropped rolls onto the floor, its brim catching the same white starlight radiating from your revival.
Luffyâs hair begins to turn stark white, billowing upward like clouds of steam. His body, which moments ago was broken and lifeless, starts to bounce back into a standing position, his rubbery limbs stretching and snapping with a strange, cartoonish elasticity.
His laughter doesn't sound like him anymore. Itâs a rhythmic, musical ringingâa drumbeat that fills the entire skull dome.
DUM-DA-DA-DUM.
He bounces on the stones, his clothes turning pure white, his eyes wide and glowing with a chaotic, joyful light. The Sun has awakened.
But as he turns to face Kaido, his gaze falls on you.
Luffyâs cartoonish, stretched face freezes. He blinks, his white hair swaying in the moonlight that you are naturally emitting. He sees you standing there, rubbing your eyes, looking around in confusion.
For a second, Luffy just stares. His eyes grow comically large, popping out of his skull.
"Wait...?" Luffy stammers, his voice dropping from his deep, drum-like resonance back to his normal, scratchy tone, full of raw disbelief. "Kaido... I thought... you..."
"Luffy?" you whisper, your voice trembling as you look at his strange, white appearance. "What happened to..."
Luffy doesn't let you finish. He uses a burst of rubberized speed, launching himself toward you with such force that he turns into a white blur.
He crashes into you, knocking you backward, his arms wrapping around you in a bone-crushing hug.
He buries his face into your neck, his white, cloud-like hair tickling your chin.
"You're alive!" he shouts, his voice a messy mix of laughter and loud, ugly crying. "You're really alive! I thought... I thought you were gone! Don't do that to me ever again!"
He pulls back slightly, his hands gripping your face, his glowing eyes searching every inch of you to make sure you're real. His tears are pouring down his cheeks again, but this time they are full of pure, explosive relief.
"I was so scared," he sniffles, his rubber cheeks stretching as he tries to smile through his tears. "I saw you... and then... everything went dark."
You touch his face, your own fingers glowing with a soft lunar mist that gently soothes the bruises on his skin. "I couldn't leave you, Luffy," you whisper. "My fruit... it pulls me back to where the sun shines. We're connected."
Luffy laughsâa real, booming, joyous laugh that rattles the very foundations of the ruined castle. He wipes his eyes with the back of his arm.
"Yeah!" he grins, his straw hat settling perfectly back onto his white, bouncing hair. "Weâre connected! Nothing can stop us now!"
The sky outside the hole in the roof begins to change. The dark, unnatural storm clouds that have hung over Wano for twenty years are suddenly parted by a massive, blinding flash of white and silver.
Kaido, staring down at the awakened Sun God and the resurrected moon, takes a massive, staggering step back. The giant dragon doesn't understand the physics of what he is seeing.
Two devil fruits, the polar opposites of the universe, standing side by side.
"What... what are you two?" Kaido bellows, his voice shaking with a rare touch of fear.
Luffy stands up, his white hair billowing into the night air. He grabs your hand, his large, warm fingers locking tightly with yours.
"I'm Monkey D. Luffy!" he shouts, his smile stretching across his face, wide and bright like the dawn. "And I'm gonna be King of the Pirates! And this is my partner! We're gonna kick you off this island!"
You take a step forward with him, drawing the starlight from the night air, shaping it into a brilliant, glowing crescent blade that hovers over Kaido's head.
The Tsuki Tsuki no Mi flows through your veins, your heartbeat synchronizing perfectly with the heavy DUM-DA-DA-DUM of Luffyâs Gear 5.
"I won't let you hurt him again," you say to the Emperor, your voice ringing clear and steady.
Luffy glances at you, his grin growing even wider. "Ready?"
"Ready," you nod.
Luffy winds back his white, rubbery arm, the fist inflating to the size of a giantâs balloon, crackling with both black lightning and pure solar energy.
At the same time, you release a pulse of lunar gravity that locks around Kaidoâs giant tail, weighing him down and forcing his massive body into a perfect, defenseless position.
"Gum-Gum... GATLING!" Luffy screams, his punches becoming a flurry of white blurs, filling the air with the sound of drums and crashing rubber.
You leap into the air, transforming half of your body into pure moonlight, darting through the storm of Luffy's punches to deliver swift, silver piercing strikes that bypass Kaido's scales. The combination is overwhelming.
The Emperor tries to swing his club, but the combined pull of the gravity and the blinding speed of your light manipulation leaves him striking nothing but air.
Blow after blow lands. The fight becomes a brilliant dance of white sun and pale starlight, a perfect eclipse of power that shatters Kaido's defenses.
With one final, massive, earth-shattering punch, Luffy's giant fist connects squarely with the Emperor's face, driving him down through the roof, through the castle floors, and deep into the underground magma chambers beneath Wano.
The sky clears completely. The moon hangs high and brilliant, casting a silver sheen over the ruined, liberated country.
Luffy deflates, his white hair receding back to black, his body shrinking until heâs just a normal, thoroughly exhausted boy. He falls backward, his legs giving out completely.
But he doesn't hit the stones.
You shift into a soft beam of moonlight, swooping underneath him, catching him in a gentle, starlit embrace before lowering him safely to the ground.
Luffy groans, his stomach letting out a massive, rumbling roar. He looks up at you, his eyes squinting into a lazy, contented smile.
"Meat," he mumbles, his breathing heavy but steady. "I need a mountain of meat."
You canât help but laugh, the tears finally drying on your cheeks. "You just took down an Emperor of the Sea, and all you can think about is food?"
"Yup!" Luffy chirps, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "I'm starving. And we gotta go tell everyone that Wano is free!"
He holds out his hand, his palm rough and warm. You take it, sitting down beside him on the edge of the ruined roof. The night air of Wano is cool, smelling of cherry blossoms and sea salt, completely free of smoke and tyranny.
Luffy leans his heavy head against your shoulder, his straw hat resting between you both.
"I'm really glad you're here," he mumbles, his eyes drifting closed. "Don't ever do that again."
"I won't," you promise him, resting your cheek against his messy black hair. "I'm right here."
Together, under the light of the moon you share, you both watch the dawn slowly break over the horizon, bringing a new, peaceful day to the Land of Wano.
In the capital, the sound of drums, flutes, and singing drifts all the way up to the ruined castle. The sweet smell of oden and roasted meat fills the streets as the liberated citizens of Wano celebrate the end of their long nightmare.
Luffy is, unsurprisingly, right in the center of the largest pile of food, his cheeks stuffed so full they look like balloons.
"Shishishi! This is delicious!" Luffy shouts, waving a massive turkey leg in the air, completely covered in sauce.
You sit a little to his side, laughing as Chopper scampers around you, desperately trying to check your bandages even though your moon fruit has already sped up the healing of your wounds.
The Sulong-enhanced minks are dancing around a massive bonfire, their fur shining under the moonlight you are softly radiating into the night.
"They're really going at it, aren't they?" Zoro says, leaning against a wooden pillar with a jug of sake in his hand, a rare smile on his face. He looks over at you and nods. "Good to see you're still in one piece."
"Thanks to you guys holding the line," you reply, the silver glow of your skin fading into a soft, pale hue as you enjoy the warmth of the fire.
Suddenly, a heavy rubber arm wraps around your waist, dragging you closer to the center of the feast.
Luffy is grinning at you, his mouth completely covered in grease. "Hey, come on! Stop talking to moss-head and eat!" He shoves a giant skewer of meat into your hands. "If you don't eat it all, I'm gonna take it!"
"I think you've already had enough for three people, Luffy," you chuckle, taking a bite.
Luffy just laughs his signature shishishi laugh and leans his head against your shoulder, his eyes sparkling with absolute joy.
Even in the middle of a hundred noisy pirates, the bond between the two of you feels loud and clearâa rhythmic echo that ties the Sun and the Moon together in the dark.
"We're free," Luffy mumbles, his voice muffled as he swallows a huge chunk of food. "Kaido is gone. Big Mom is gone. We can go anywhere we want now."
"We can," you agree, looking up at the bright, full moon hanging in the Wano sky. . . .
I got a request in mind Could I request Luffy x reader whose devil fruit is like a parallel to his, but is the moon goddess devil fruit, doesnât knows the fruit true name. Itâs abilities are creating energy (image at scene of gear 5 Luffy and reader in goddess form using kaido for tug-a-war)
The Nika to My Tsukuyomi
Summary: You are the opposite of Luffy in every way except when it's to defeat your enemies
Song: Fill the Void - The Weeknd
Authorâs note: That was such a great idea! Thanks for requesting!! Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The first thing you remember is fallingânot the stomach-lurching plunge of tripping, but the slow, dreamlike drift of a feather caught in an updraft.
Moonlight spills across your skin like liquid silver as you tumble through the night sky, limbs weightless, the world below a blur of shadow and distant torchlight.
Then, impact: the groan of splintering wood, the startled yelp of a voice too familiar, and the wide, rubbery grin of Monkey D. Luffy staring up at you from the wreckage of his own shipâs mast.
"Shishishi! Youâre glowing!" he says, as if thatâs the most normal thing in the world.
Your fingers flex instinctively, and the air humsânot with the buzz of insects or the crackle of fire, but with something deeper, older. The moonâs pull thrums beneath your ribs, answering a call you didnât realize youâd made.
Luffyâs straw hat tilts as he cocks his head, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Hey, can you do that thing where you turn into light? Like Kizaru?"
You blink. Of all the questions, of all the reactionsâthis isnât what you expected. But then again, when has Luffy ever followed the script?
The deck creaks underfoot as you step forward, your body flickering between solid and not, the boundary between flesh and moonlight blurring like a half-remembered dream.
"Not exactly," you admit, watching your own hand phase through the railing like smoke. Luffyâs grin widens. "Cool," he declares, as if that settles it.
Behind him, the crew starts to stirâUsoppâs nervous squawk, Namiâs exasperated sighâbut Luffy doesnât look away. "Wanna join my crew?"
The question hangs in the air, light as the glow still clinging to your skin. You should say no. You would say noâif it werenât for the way the night seems to bend around him, as if the universe itself is leaning in to hear your answer.
And then it happens: your fingers brush his outstretched arm, and the world dissolves. Not into darkness, but into something far strangerâa kaleidoscope of shared laughter, the salt-sting of sea spray, the unshakable certainty that this, this is where youâre meant to be.
Luffyâs grin never wavers. "Told you," he says, as if heâs known all along.
But the vision fractures when Usopp yelps, pointing at the sky. The moonâyour moonâis bleeding crimson, its edges warping like wax under a flame.
Your breath catches. Thatâs not supposed to happen. The crew tenses, but Luffy just cranes his neck, fascinated. "Whoa," he breathes. "Does it always do that?"
You donât answer. The pull in your chest isnât curiosityâitâs warning. Somethingâs coming. Something hungry.
Sanjiâs cigarette flares as he exhales a tight stream of smoke. "Captain," he mutters, "we might wannaâ" The sentence dies when the sea beneath the ship shudders, the water turning black as ink.
Shadows coil like living things, reaching for the hull. Namiâs voice cuts through the sudden silence: "Everyone! Move!"
And then the night splits open. A maw of teeth and tendrils erupts from the depths, swallowing the deck wholeâbut not before Luffyâs hand clamps around your wrist, his grip impossibly solid.
"Shishishi!" His laugh rings out, wild and bright, even as the darkness swallows you both. "Thisâll be fun!"
Your bodies collide mid-air, spinning through the abyss, but Luffyâs grin never wavers. Moonlight surges from your skin, a silver corona blazing against the void, while Luffyâs fist stretches, rubber snapping taut with a sound like thunder.
"Gear Second!" he shouts, and the world ignites in steam and starlight. Your powers twist togetherâhis heat, your glowâuntil the very air hums with the weight of something new.
The creature recoils, shrieking as your combined light burns through its flesh. Luffyâs fist slams into its eye, your moonlight lancing through the wound like liquid mercury.
For a heartbeat, suspended in the chaos, you lock eyesâand something clicks. Not just battle-sync, but deeper. Like the moon finally finding its tide.
Luffyâs laughter echoes as you phase through a barbed tentacle, reforming just in time to hurl a crescent blade of condensed moonlight into the beastâs gullet. He whoops, stretching his neck to dodge a swipe.
"Your turn!" he yellsâright as you palm the monsterâs flank, flooding its nervous system with nightmares. Its movements stutter, limbs seizing as hallucinations of endless falling take root.
Below, Zoroâs swords flash, severing a shadowy appendage aiming for the Sunnyâs mast. "Quit hogging the fun!" he snarls. You almost grinâuntil the water beneath you boils.
A second maw erupts, this one lined with jagged coral teeth. Luffyâs arm whips around your waist, yanking you back as he bites his thumb. "GearâŠ" His veins glow gold. "Third!"
The air cracks. Your moonlight swirls into his ballooning fist, forging a colossal hammer of pure radiance. The beast hesitatesâthen lunges.
Luffy meets it head-on, your combined power detonating in a supernova of force that tears the night apart.
The nextâWanoâs stench of blood and gunpowder slams into you like a fist. Kaidoâs silhouette looms above the ruined castle, his club already descending toward Luffyâs crumpled form.
Your body moves before thought catches up. Moonlight erupts from your palms, hardening into a shimmering shield inches from his skull. The impact rattles your bones, but you hold. Barely.
Luffyâs bloodied grin flashes in your periphery. "Took you long enough," he wheezes, staggering upright. His breath steamsânot from exertion, but from the telltale shimmer of Gear Fifth thrumming beneath his skin.
Kaidoâs laugh shakes the battlefield. "Another godling?" he sneers, liquor-soaked breath hot on your face. "How quaint."
Your fingers twitch. Moonbeams coil around Luffyâs outstretched arm like living thread, weaving into his rubbery flesh until his veins pulse silver. His laughter echoes yours, wild and bright, as you both lungeânot at Kaido, but past him.
Your phasing hand plunges through his ribcage, not to harm, but to hook. Luffyâs elongated fist mirrors yours, snagging the dragonâs spine from the other side. Kaidoâs roar of outrage cuts off as you pull.
The world holds its breath.
Thenâtug-of-war. Kaidoâs massive form stretches grotesquely between you, his scales screeching under the strain. Luffyâs sandals skid through rubble, your heels carving trenches in the earth, but neither of you yield.
The moon above pulses, its light pouring into you like a tidal surge. Kaidoâs claws scrabble for purchase, his wings flailing. "Impossibleâ!"
Luffy's laughter crescendos into something unhingedâpart joy, part battle cryâas his rubbery limbs torque with impossible elasticity. The ground fractures beneath your combined pull, Kaido's spine creaking like rigging in a storm.
"Shishishi! Now you're stretchy too!" Luffy crows, as if this is the best game he's ever played. Your moonlit veins burn in tandem with his golden glow, the very air vibrating with the dissonant harmony of sun and moon colliding.
Kaido's thrashing tail uproots a watchtower, sending debris raining down, but neither of you flinchâtoo busy winning.
The hallucination hits Kaido mid-snarl. Your phasing fingers still buried in his ribs, you flood his nervous system with visions: an endless fall through a starless sky, the crushing weight of a thousand moons, the certainty that he's already lost.
His pupils dilate, muscles locking for a fatal second. Luffy seizes the openingâliterally. His fist snaps back with the force of a catapult, yanking Kaido clean off his feet.
The dragon's bulk slams into the ruined castle wall, stone exploding outward in a cloud of dust and curses.
You don't see the third strike coming. Kaido's club materializes from the debris cloud, wreathed in conqueror's haki, aimed squarely at your ribs. But Luffy's arm is already there, stretched taut as a shield.
The impact sends shockwaves through his rubberized flesh, his goofy grin never slipping even as his eyeballs jiggle comically from the force.
"Oi," he wheezes, "that tickles." Your shared laughter rings across the battlefield, manic and bright, as you press your palm to Kaido's clubâand phase it straight through his own forehead.
The dragon staggers, momentarily cross-eyed, and that's all the opening Gear Fifth needs. Luffy's fist balloons to the size of a warship, moonlight spiraling around it like a celestial drill.
"MooooonâŠ" you chant in unison, the word less a word and more a force of nature. "âŠPUNCH!"
The blow connects with the sound of a thunderclap, Kaido's body corkscrewing through the air before cratering into the distant mountainside. The shockwave flattens what remains of the castle walls, sending your hair whipping back in a wild tangle.
Luffy lands beside you, panting but grinning like a madman. His straw hat's brim is singed, his vest torn to ribbons, but his eyesâthose are alive with something brighter than Gear Fifth's glow.
"Hey," he says, nudging your shoulder with his, "you taste like mochi." You blink. There's moonlight dripping from your lips, you realizeâthick and silvery, pooling at your chin.
You wipe it absently, only for Luffy to catch your wrist mid-motion. His tongue darts out, licking the residue from your fingers with all the solemnity of a kid stealing frosting. "Sweet," he declares.
"You look so cool when you're fighting," Luffy says around a mouthful of your lunar energy, cheeks puffing like he's storing it for later.
The compliment shouldn't make your pulse stutterânot when Kaido's still embedded in his castle half a mile awayâbut here you are, glowing brighter than the damn moon.
Then his hand clamps around yours, sudden as a storm surge. "Let's go higher!" he crows, and before you can protest, he's yanking you skyward with Gear Fifth's ridiculous elasticity.
Your feet leave the ground in a burst of silver sparks, Luffy's stretched arm acting like a slingshot.
For a dizzying second, you're weightlessâthen your wings (since when did you have wings?) snap open in a flare of moonbeams, catching you both mid-arc. The battlefield shrinks beneath you, wind screaming past as you spiral upward through a hail of falling debris.
Kaido's roar shakes the air as he dislodges himself from the rubble, wings unfurling with a crack like splitting timber. He's airborne in seconds, drunk rage fueling his ascent.
Luffy whoops, legs kicking midair like a kid on a swing. "Faster!" he demands, and your wings obeyânot because he asked, but because the moon wants this, wants him, the lunatic grinning like gravity's a suggestion.
Your ascent carves a helix of light through the smoke-choked sky, Kaido's fire breath licking at your heels. Luffy's straw hat nearly flies off, but he catches it with his teeth, still laughing.
"Shishishi! Lookâ" He points downward where the battle's still raging, where Zoro's swords gleam like distant stars against the dark. "They're so small now!" His grip tightens. "Wanna dive-bomb him?"
The question isn't rhetorical. You can feel itâthe way his rubbery fingers twitch with pent-up energy, the way your wings ache to fold into a deadly plummet. The moon thrums in agreement.
You don't answerâyou act. Wings tucking in, you let gravity take hold. Kaido's enraged bellow follows as you both drop like twin comets, your bodies wreathed in opposing aurasâhis golden steam, your silver radianceâyet somehow harmonizing into something fiercer.
The wind screams past, tearing at your clothes, but Luffy's grip never falters. At the last possible second, your wings snap wide, arresting your fall just long enough for Luffy's stretched legs to coil like springs.
Kaido barely has time to snarl before you release, catapulting Luffy's heel straight into the dragon's jaw with the force of a moonfall. The impact rings across Onigashima like a bell tolling doom.
Knocked out mid-air, Kaido's massive form goes slack, his wings limp as he plummets. Luffy whoops, his rubbery body bouncing off the dragon's snout like a child's toy.
"That was awesome!" he crows, spinning in midair before his sandals find purchase on Kaido's scaly forehead.
You land lightly beside the crater, moonlight still dripping from your fingertips. The battlefield is eerily quietâeven the surviving Beast Pirates gape at the sight of their emperor embedded headfirst in the earth, his tail twitching faintly.
Luffy scrambles out of the rubble, dusting off his shorts like he just finished a brisk jog.
"Hey," he says, nudging Kaido's limp form with his toe, "think he'll wanna play again when he wakes up?" His grin is all teeth, sunburned and reckless.
Then his knees buckle. You catch him before he faceplants, his body suddenly heavy against yours. Gear Fifth's aftereffects hit him like a sledgehammerâmuscles liquefying, breath ragged.
His heartbeat thrums against your palm, too fast but stubbornly strong. "Tch," he slurs into your collarbone, "stupidâŠtime limitâŠ" His fingers twitch like he's still mid-punch even as his eyelids droop.
The crew's shouts echo in the distance, but for now, it's just you holding the weight of the sun in your arms, his sweat-slick skin cooling under your moonlit touch.
Meant to be together like the sun and moonâthe thought flickers unbidden as Luffy's straw hat tilts off his head, landing crown-up in the dirt between you.
His exhaustion smells like gunpowder and sea salt, his breath warm where it ghosts across your lunar markings. Somewhere above, the real moon glows through the smoke, its light weaving through your hair like fingers through his.
You don't remember moving, but suddenly your foreheads are pressed together, his pulse syncing with yours in a rhythm older than devil fruits, older than battlesâsomething celestial and inevitable.
Kaido groans in the crater, stirring weakly, but neither of you look. Luffy's fingers twitch against your ribs, mapping the places where your moonlight still flickers under skin.
"Shishishi," he slurs, his grin lopsided with fatigue, "you're all⊠glowy." His thumb smears a streak of silver across your cheekbone, the touch leaving trails like comet tails.
"Nap first," he mumbles into your collarbone, already halfway to dreamland.
You should pull awayâshould check the crew, should secure Kaidoâbut the moon hums stay, and who are you to argue with gravity?
Summary: The Straw Hats travel through the seas and bump into a runaway sea princess
Song: Art Deco - Lana Del Ray
Authorâs note: Please like, reblog and share this! đ«¶
The rhythmic creak of the Thousand Sunny was the heartbeat of your existence, a steady, wooden thrumming that usually lulled you into a peaceful slumber.
But tonight, the air was thick with a humid, salty tension that refused to let you rest.
You stood at the railing, the moonlight turning the churning wake of the ship into a ribbon of liquid quicksilver. You were a stowaway of sortsânot by choice, but by necessity.
You had been a princess of the Deep Current Kingdom, a realm hidden beneath the reach of sunlight, forced to flee when a coup turned your palace into a graveyard.
The Straw Hats had found you clinging to a piece of driftwood, half-drowned and entirely lost.
They had taken you in with that reckless, boundless kindness of theirs. But there was one among them who watched you differently.
"You should be resting, Princess."
The voice was deep, resonant, and carried the weight of the ocean itself. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Jinbe. The scent of himâbrine, old parchment, and the subtle, sharp tang of the deep seaâheralded his presence before his massive shadow fell over you.
"I could say the same to you, Jinbe," you replied, your voice soft against the whistling wind. "Does the Knight of the Sea never sleep?"
He stepped up to the railing beside you, his hulking frame causing the ship to tilt ever so slightly. He folded his large, webbed hands over the wood, his gaze fixed on the endless horizon.
Even in the gloom, his presence was a sanctuary. Since you had joined the crew, he had been your silent guardian, the one who checked on your nightmares and taught you how to navigate the complex currents of the New World.
"The sea has a way of keeping oneâs mind restless," he murmured. He glanced at you, his golden eyes sweeping over your profile. "You are thinking of home again."
"Home," you repeated, the word tasting like ash. "I donât know if I have one anymore. My people⊠the throne⊠itâs all gone, Jinbe. I am a princess without a kingdom, sailing on a ship of pirates."
"You are a guest of the Straw Hats," he corrected gently. "And you are safe. That is enough for now."
You looked up at him, studying the stoic lines of his face, the scar across his eye, the steadfast set of his jaw. He was a creature of honor and duty, a man who had lived through centuries of turmoil.
Why did he spend so much time with you? A displaced girl with no title to offer and no strength to contribute?
"Why do you look at me like that, Jinbe?" you whispered, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
He stiffened, his massive shoulders tensing. For a moment, the only sound was the slap of waves against the hull. "Like what?"
"Like I am the only thing on this ship worth protecting."
Jinbe turned his head fully toward you. The moonlight caught the subtle shift in his expressionâa flicker of something raw, something he had been burying beneath layers of stoicism and fish-man discipline.
"Because," he started, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a low rumble that vibrated through the deck under your feet, "when I look at you, I do not see a displaced princess. I see a survivor. I see someone who carries the weight of a world on her shoulders and still chooses to smile at the morning sun. It is⊠a rare thing to witness."
You turned, your hands finding his forearm. His skin was cool and firm, like polished stone. "Is that all?"
He looked down at your hand on his arm, then back up at your eyes. The distance between you seemed to vanish. Jinbe was physically imposing, a wall of muscle and history, but in his eyes, you saw a profound, aching gentleness.
"No," he confessed, the word a heavy stone dropped into a deep well. "It is not."
The realization hadn't come all at once. It had been a slow, insidious tide.
It began with the quiet moments in the library, where he would watch you read, finding himself more interested in the way your brow furrowed in concentration than in the history books he studied.
It blossomed when you laughed at Luffyâs anticsâa bright, crystalline sound that made the harsh edges of his past feel muffled and distant.
But it solidified a few days later, during a skirmish with a bounty hunter fleet. You had been caught in the crossfire, a cannonball splintering the deck near where you stood.
Jinbe hadn't thought; he had simply moved, a blur of blue muscle, shielding you with his own body as the wood shattered around him.
He had felt the sharp scrape of debris against his back, but he hadn't cared. All he could focus on was the way you had looked up at himâeyes wide, trembling, yet reaching out to touch his face to ensure he was unharmed.
In that moment of adrenaline and terror, the realization struck him with the force of a tidal wave: I would burn the world to keep this person safe.
He, who had spent his life serving, who had stood against warlords and emperors, was anchored by the fragility of a woman who had lost everything.
He was in love with you. And the terror of it was far greater than any battle he had ever fought.
The ship was silent, save for the snoring of the crew below deck. You were still standing by the railing, and Jinbe hadn't moved. The tension between you was electric, a dance of two souls caught in the gravity of one another.
"I fear," Jinbe began, his voice thick with uncharacteristic hesitation, "that I am failing in my duty, Princess."
"What duty?" you asked, leaning closer, drawn to the warmth radiating from him.
"To remain the calm sea," he whispered. "To be the mentor, the protector. I find that when you are near, my calm is⊠compromised."
You smiled, a small, sad, hopeful thing. "I donât want a protector, Jinbe. I want a partner. I am tired of being an icon for people to bow to, or a princess for people to rescue."
Jinbe looked at you, and for the first time, he let the mask of the Knight of the Sea drop completely. He reached out, his large, calloused hand cupping your cheek with surprising delicacy. His webbed fingers were cool against your skin, a grounding touch that made your breath hitch.
"You are a queen, then," he murmured. "In your own right. And I⊠I find myself wanting to be the one who earns the right to stand by your side, not as a knight, but as a man."
The confession hung in the salty air, heavy and honest. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes. A life of royal courts and stifling protocol had never prepared you for the raw, tectonic shift of this moment.
You weren't a princess here; you were just you, and he was just Jinbe, and that was more than enough.
"I think," you whispered, reaching up to press your hand over his, "you have already earned it."
He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for centuries. He leaned down, his forehead coming to rest against yours. It was a gesture of immense intimacy, the kind meant only for those who truly understood the weight of the otherâs soul.
"The sea is vast," Jinbe whispered, his voice vibrating against your skin. "And it is full of dangers. But as long as we sail together, I will never let you drift."
"Then let's sail," you answered.
As the Thousand Sunny cut through the dark, bioluminescent waves of the New World, the moon watched over two hearts finally finding their harbor in the middle of the endless blue.
There were storms ahead, and enemies to face, but as Jinbe wrapped his arm around your waistâa sturdy, permanent anchorâyou knew that for the first time in your life, you weren't fleeing.
Summary: You're Luffy's sister and you've been looking for your older brother when you bumped into his pink haired friend...
Song: Needed Me - Rihanna
Authorâs note: I've loved this man ever since Season 1! đ Please like, reblog and share this! đđ«¶
The docks of Loguetown smelled like salt and secrets. You pressed your back against the damp wood of a fishmongerâs stall, fingers digging into the grain as you watched himâpink hair catching the late afternoon sun like a beacon. Koby.
The name flickered in the mind of the drunkard youâd cornered an hour ago, his thoughts sloshing with sake and misplaced bravado.
Luffyâs friend, heâd slurred, before his mind betrayed him with images of the boy trembling before Alvidaâs fists. You swallowed the memory like bile.
The bar stank of sweat and spilled liquor, the floorboards sticky beneath your boots as you finally spotted himâKoby, slumped over a chipped countertop, fingers tracing the rim of an empty glass.
His thoughts were a tangle of guilt and longing, sharp as the knife heâd once held to his own throat.
He was in his own clothesâno longer the stiff, ill-fitting uniform of a Marine recruit, but a loose cotton shirt rolled up at the sleeves, the fabric clinging to the sweat at the small of his back.
You could see the tremor in his hands, the way his pulse jumped under his skin when he caught sight of you in the grimy mirror behind the bartender.
Pretty. The word was a startled exhale in his mind, bright and unguarded. It shouldnât have surprised youâyouâd heard worse, filthier things whispered behind your backâbut this was different. Soft. Honest.
His fingers twitched against the glass, knuckles whiteningânot in fear, but something sharper, sweeter. The realization hit you like a misplaced step on a swaying deck: he didnât recognize you.
Not your face, not the bounty posters plastered on every Marine outpost from East Blue to the Grand Line. His thoughts were warm honey, slow and thick with drink, and entirely fixated on the curve of your mouth.
You tilted your head, letting the dim lantern light catch the silver hoops in your earsâthe ones stolen from a Navy commodoreâs private stash last winter. His breath hitched.
The bartender slammed another bottle down between you, but Koby didnât reach for it. His pulse was a wild thing under his skin, and you could taste the salt of his sweat in the air between you, mingling with the citrus tang of his cheap cologne.
The way he sat too straight, the way his fingers twitched toward a nonexistent sword belt.
His mind flashed with images of a too-small bunk, the ache of fresh bruises from training, the sour taste of shame when the other cadets laughed at his pink hair.
"Sorry forâfor staring, Miss," Koby stammered, his voice cracking on the last word. His knuckles whitened around the glass, condensation dripping onto his wristâcool, then warm, then gone as his skin absorbed it.
His thoughts were a collision of contradictions: the instinctive recoil from your proximity warring with the way his breath quickened when your knee brushed his under the bar.
"It's alright," you murmured, tapping a finger against your own glassâwater, untouched. His mind flinched at the lie even before you said it, guilt flaring like a match struck too close to gunpowder.
He was drunk enough to blush but sober enough to hate himself for it, and you could taste the self-loathing curling through his synapses like smoke.
"IâI didnât mean toâ" he started, then stopped, shaking his head as if the motion could dislodge the words stuck in his throat. His fingers twitched toward his glass again, but you caught his wrist before he could retreat, your thumb pressing into the frantic flutter of his pulse.
His thoughts short-circuitedâa burst of static, heat, the dizzying scent of your perfume cutting through the barâs stale air.
My name is Koby, he thought, absurdly formal, as if you hadnât already plucked it from the drunkardâs memories an hour ago.
His mental voice was clearer than his slurred speech, crisp with military precision despite the alcohol blurring his edges. You smirked, tracing the calluses on his palmâsword calluses, fresh but uneven, the kind earned through desperate practice rather than polished drills.
"Youâyouâre not from here," he managed, words tripping over each other. His mind supplied the rest: Youâre not safe here. The irony curled your lips.
The bartenderâs thoughts dripped with recognition, his fingers inching toward the den den mushi under the counter. You let him. Let them all see.
"My name is Koby," he blurted, too loud, like heâd been holding it back. His thoughts screamed at himâidiot, she didnât askâbut his mouth kept moving. "IâmâI wasâ"
A sudden flash of memory hit you like a backhand: girls in Marine uniforms whispering pink-haired freak behind their hands, their laughter sharp as cut glass. His hands clenched around nothing, phantom pain radiating from where heâd yanked his own hair in frustration.
"My name is Ria," you lied, watching his pupils dilateânot with suspicion, but with something softer, something stupid. The lie tasted like ashes on your tongue, but his mind lapped it up like fresh water.
Ria, Ria, Ria, his thoughts echoed, syllables clumsy with alcohol and longing.
You reached out, fingers grazing the pink strands at his temple. His breath stopped. His thoughts stopped. The entire bar might as well have collapsed into the sea for all he noticed.
"I like your hair," you murmured, softer than you'd ever spoken to anyone. His mind went blankânot the usual static of drunkenness, but a perfect, stunned silence.
Then, like a tide rushing in: No one's everânot like thatânot withoutâ You pulled back before the ache in his chest could become your own.
You felt a little bad for taking advantage of a drunk guyâbut you needed to find Luffy. The guilt tasted like cheap rum in the back of your throat. His thoughts were so open, so easy, spilling between your fingers like sand.
You could've plucked the location of your brother from his mind in seconds, but instead you were tracing the nervous sweat at his collarbone, watching his pulse jump like a hooked fish.
Koby leaned into your touch before he caught himself, jerking back like you'd burned him.
"S-sorry, Iâ" His fingers tangled in his own shirt, knuckles whitening. The bartender's den den mushi clicked. You didn't flinch. Let them come. Let them try.
"You're looking for someone too," you said, not a question. His pupils blew wide. The realization crashed through his drunken hazeâshe knows, she knowsâbut before he could panic, you pressed your palm flat against his chest, right over the frantic rabbit-kick of his heart.
"Tell me about him." His breath hitched. His mind fractured into a dozen half-formed confessionsâLuffy, the boy who saved me, the boy who's going to save the worldâ
"Hey boy! You should give us that girl and run!" a drunk man yelled, his words thick as molasses. The bar erupted into laughter, chairs scraping as patrons turned to leer.
Koby stiffened, his fingers twitching toward his empty hipâwhere his sword would've been if he hadn't hanged his clothes to seem normal.
Koby cursed himselfâhis tongue clumsy with liquor, his vision swimmingâfor drinking too much. How could he protect you when his knees threatened to buckle?
His thoughts sharpened abruptly, slicing through the alcohol haze: Move. Stand. Shield her. But his body betrayed him, swaying like a storm-tossed mast as he tried to push off the stool.
You sighed, rolling your eyes at the drunkard's leerâhis mind a slurry of crude fantasies. Koby's breath hitched when you stepped closer to the threat, not away, your shoulder brushing his.
"W-waitâ" he slurred, but you were already tilting your head, letting the drunkard's gaze catch on the silver hoops in your earsâthe ones stolen from a Navy commodoreâs corpse.
The drunkard's grin faltered when you smiled back, slow and venomous. Koby's stomach dropped as your fingers curled around the neck of a broken bottleâno, no, she shouldn't have toââbut then his own hand shot out, gripping your wrist.
His palm was sweaty, trembling, but his voice, when it came, was steel: "Don't."
The bar went silent. Even the drunkard froze. Koby didn't know where the word had come fromâonly that the thought of you hurting for him made his ribs splinter.
His pulse hammered against your skin like a trapped bird. You could see the memory flickering behind his eyesâAlvida's fist, the coppery taste of his own blood, the way he'd once prayed for someone, anyone, to stop her. And now here he was, trying to stop you.
The irony burned your tongue. You'd killed men for less than this drunkard's leer, their thoughts slick with intentions you'd carved out of their skulls before they could act. But Koby didn't know that. Koby thought you were just a girl in a bar.
The drunkard lunged. You moved faster. The bottle shattered against his temple with a wet crack, glass raining onto the sawdust floor. Koby gaspedânot at the violence, but at the way your fingers didn't shake.
The drunkard crumpled, blood pooling around his head like a grotesque halo. You stepped over him, kicking aside his limp hand as it twitched toward your ankle.
"Oops," you deadpanned, meeting Koby's horrified stare. His mind was a white-noise scream: She's done this before.
The bartender's den den mushi shrieked. Koby flinched, his training screaming Marines incomingâbut you just sighed, wiping your hands on your thighs.
"You should run," you said, softer than the situation warranted. You nudged the unconscious drunk with your boot. "He'll live," you lied. Koby's breath hitchedâhe didn't know you could do that, either.
The door burst open with a splintering crack. A lanky figure stumbled in, his ridiculous blond undercut haloed by the dying sunlight. Helmeppo.
His thoughts were a shrill cacophonyâfather's disgrace, Koby's fault, why does everyone always look at him instead of meâ before they zeroed in on the bloodied drunk.
His face twisted. "K-Koby?" His voice cracked mid-syllable, sword rattling in its scabbard as he took in the sceneâyou, glass in hand, Koby swaying like a drunkard between you and the unconscious man.
Koby's mind short-circuited. No no no not him not nowâ His hands flew up, palms out, as if he could physically push Helmeppo's accusations away. "It's n-not what itâ"
His tongue betrayed him, words collapsing under the weight of Helmeppo's sneer. You watched, fascinated, as Helmeppo's gaze darted between Koby's flushed face and your unruffled calm.
His thoughts curdled with jealousyâalways getting the pretty ones, always making me look badâ
Koby's breath hitched. His mind was a wildfireâshe's toying with him, she's not even scared, she'sââand then his body moved before his brain could catch up. He stumbled forward, grabbing your wrist with drunken desperation.
"We have to go," he hissed, his voice raw with something that wasn't just alcohol. Outside, the first Marine shout echoed off the docks. Helmeppo's sword trembled.
You let Koby pull you backward, his fingers burning against your skin, his thoughts screaming please please please like a prayer.
You three ran through the backâpast the shattered kegs and the stinking fish guts, past the startled cook who dropped his cleaver mid-chop. Koby's grip was iron-tight, his pulse hammering against your wrist like a caged animal.
Helmeppo tripped over his own boots, cursing, his thoughts a shrill why am I following them why why whyâ but his feet kept moving, chasing Koby's pink hair through the gloom like a beacon.
The alley narrowed, walls pressing in like ribs, the stench of rotting fruit thick enough to taste.
Koby's knee buckled as you rounded a corner. He caught himself against a rain barrel, gasping, his free hand pressed to his ribs like he could physically hold his guilt inside.
His mind was a carousel of horrorsâ*court martial, dishonorable dischargeâbut beneath it all, a single thought burned brighter: *her*.
You watched, fascinated, as Helmeppo skidded to a stop behind you, his polished boots slipping in the muck. His gaze flickered between your clasped hands and Koby's flushed face, his lip curling.
"Youâyou idiot," Helmeppo spat, but his voice cracked halfway through, the insult landing limp as a dead fish. His thoughts writhedâfather will skin me alive, why does Koby always get the pretty criminalsââbefore he jerked his chin toward the harbor.
"M-Marine patrol's circling the docks. Weâ" He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing.
His fingers twitched toward his sword, but the blade stayed sheathed. Koby's breath came in ragged bursts, his fingers tightening around yours like he'd forgotten how to let go.
You shouldn't let them get in trouble. You let go of his hand, whispered "see you soon" into his ear before leavingâthree words, warm as a knife between ribs. Koby's pulse stuttered against your lips.
His fingers flexed around empty air, his thoughts a silent, desperate waitâ but you were already stepping back, melting into the shadows between crates. Helmeppo's shout died in his throat as you vanished, his mind skidding to a haltâhow'd she do that, where'd sheâ
The alley stank of brine and rotting lemons. Koby swayed, blinking at the space where you'd stood, his palm still tingling. His thoughts were a shipwreckâRia, Ria, Riaâ but beneath the drunken haze, something sharpened: the realization that he'd never asked which way you'd gone.
Helmeppo grabbed his arm, yanking him toward the harbor lights. "Move, moron," he hissed, but his grip was shaky, his thoughts a frantic loopâdon't let her leave.
Koby woke to a headache like a cannonball to the skull and the taste of salt on his lips. The dreamsâyour dreamsâhad been relentless: your fingers tracing his jaw, your laughter muffled against his throat.
His shared quarters were empty, the other bunks neatly made. The alarm clock glared 10:03 AMâtwo hours past muster.
His stomach lurched. The sheets smelled like citrus and gunpowder, a ghost of you clinging to the cotton.
Helmeppo would be furious.
The thought barely registered as Koby pressed his palms to his throbbing temples. Fragments of last night surfaced like debris after a stormâyour smirk in the lantern light, the shattered bottle, the way you'd vanished between blinks.
His fingers twitched toward his hip, where his sword should be. The scabbard hung empty on the bedpost.
His stomach dropped. No no noâ
Koby was halfway into his uniformâshirt misbuttoned, belt danglingâwhen the door creaked open. Captain Brannew's silhouette filled the frame, his thoughts a clipped monotone of disciplinary reports and wasted potential.
"Recruit Koby," he said, voice drier than the desert kingdom reports piled on his desk. "You were assigned to patrol with Helmeppo at 0800."
Koby's throat clicked. Brannew's gaze flicked over the wrinkled sheets, the empty scabbard, the way Koby's fingers trembled on his collar. "Helmeppo's already docked. You're with me today."
The unspoken don't embarrass me lingered like gun smoke.
It was him and a few new recruits surveying Loguetown, after the move Luffy pulled at the executioner stationânew pirates would feel confident, bold, stupid.
The scaffold's shadow stretched long across the plaza, and Koby's skin prickled with the memory of the Straw Hat laughter. The recruits chattered about increased patrols, their minds buzzing with rookie bravado. Koby kept his eyes on the rooftops, where the sea wind caught laundry lines like surrender flags.
The marketplace stank of overripe fruit and fish guts, the same stench from last night's alley. Koby's boots stuck to the cobblestonesâblood or molasses, he couldn't tell.
A vendor's cart overturned with a clatter, and his hand flew to his absent sword hilt. The recruits snickered, their thoughts sharp as cutlassesâlook at the pink-haired freak, still jumpy from his benderâ
Brannew cleared his throat. Koby's cheeks burned. He could still feel your fingers between his, the way you'd pressed "see you soon" into his skin like a brand.
Then the air split. A cannonball tore through the fruit stands, sending splinters and melon pulp raining down. Koby hit the ground hard, his ribs screamingâwhere's Brannew, where are the recruitsâ
Through the smoke, figures swarmed the square: the Saw-Tooth Pirates, their grins glinting with gold-capped teeth. Koby rolled behind a shattered cart as cutlasses bit into wood where his head had been.
His fingers closed around a fallen Marine's swordâthe grip slick with sweat or bloodâand his muscles remembered before his mind did. The first pirate lunged. Koby's parry rang through the square like a bell tolling.
The sword felt wrong in his handsâtoo heavy, too bluntâbut the pirate's eyes widened anyway. Koby didn't realize he'd slashed until the man staggered back, clutching his thigh.
The scent of iron flooded his sinuses, and for a horrifying second, he was back in Alvida's brig, tasting his own blood.
Then a shadow loomedâa giant with an anchor for a handâand Koby's knees locked. The recruits were screaming somewhere. Brannew's voice cut through the chaosâfall back!âbut Koby's feet stayed rooted.
Koby fought. Not like the polished drills in the yard, but ugly, desperateâelbow to a throat, hilt to a nose, boots slipping in melon pulp. The anchor grazed his ribs, and white-hot pain seared his vision.
He tasted salt and panic, heard Helmeppo's shrill KOBY! from the rooftops. His sword shattered against the giant's shoulder, but the man roaredâgood enoughâand Koby ducked, grabbing a fallen cutlass.
The blade bit deep into the pirate's calf, and the world tilted as the giant crashed down, splintering crates beneath him.
Smoke stung his eyes. Someone was sobbing. Koby's uniform clung to his back, soaked through with sweat and something stickier. He turnedâjust in time to see the sniper's rifle flash from the clocktower. Time slowed.
The bullet would hit Brannew square between the shoulders. Koby's body moved before his mind could scream noâshoving the captain down, the shot grazing his own bicep.
Brannew's shocked gasp was drowned by the sniper's curse. The recruits' thoughts were a chorus of holy shit holy shitâ
Brannew's fingers dug into Koby's wrist, hauling him behind a toppled cart. His nostrils flared at the coppery scent of Koby's blood. "You're dismissed, recruit," he hissedâbut his grip was firm, his mind flashing with insubordinate idiot, reckless, braveâ Koby blinked.
The captain's sword pressed into his palm, still warm from the fight. Brannew's jaw tightened. "Go."
Koby didn't argue. The docks were chaosâcannon fire splitting the air, smoke swallowing the harbor whole. He ran, boots slipping on fish guts, his ribs screaming with every step. The Marines wouldn't know about the attack yetânot this far from HQ, not with comms jammed by the sniper's interference.
A bomb detonated two streets over, shattering windows. Koby ducked into an alley, his back hitting damp brick as gunfire peppered the wall above his head. The air reeked of gunpowder and brine, his pulse hammering against his teeth.
Footsteps splashed through puddles behind him. Koby spun, sword raisedâonly to freeze at the glint of silver hoops in the gloom. Your smile was a knife-slash in the shadows.
"Miss me?" you murmured, stepping into the sliver of light between crates. His breath hitched. Your knuckles were split, your shirt streaked with sootâbut your eyes were bright, pupils blown wide with adrenaline.
The sniper's bullet lodged in the brick beside your head didn't even make you flinch.
Koby's sword arm wavered. His mind short-circuitedâyou're here, you're real, you're dangerousâbut his body leaned forward anyway, drawn like a compass needle. Your fingers brushed his bleeding bicep, sticky with sweat and gun smoke.
"You're hurt," you said, soft as a secret. His thoughts stuttered. Your thumb smeared his blood across your lower lip, and Koby's knees nearly gave out. "Let me help."
You took the bandana tied from your arm and pressed it to his wound without ceremony. Koby gasped at the sting, his fingers twitching toward yours. The fabric was rough, salt-crusted from the sea, but your hands were steady.
"Hold this," you ordered, guiding his palm over the makeshift bandage. His pulse jumped under your touch, wild and feverish. The sniper's next shot ricocheted off the alley wall, sending chips of brick raining down. You didn't flinch.
"They're after me," you said, ducking as another bullet whizzed overhead. Koby's grip tightened on the sword Brannew had given him, knuckles whitening. "I didn't want to join their crewâremember the guys in the bar?"
His breath hitched. The memory of the drunkard's shattered bottle flashed behind his eyes, the way you'd moved like water over glass. The sniper's laughter echoed from the rooftops, too close.
Koby's mouth went dry. His training screamed retreat, regroupâbut his body swayed toward you instead, drawn by the heat of your fingers still laced through his. "Wh-what do youâ"
The words died as you yanked him sideways, just as an arrow embedded itself where his shoulder had been. The fletching quivered, painted with Saw-Tooth red.
Your lips curled. "Told you," you murmured, your breath warm against his jaw.
"Let's get you somewhere safe, Koby," you said, dragging him into the maze of crates stacked along the wharf. His pulse rabbited under your gripâhalf terror, half something he didn't dare name.
Suddenly you turned a corner and pushed against a section of weathered brick that looked no different from the rest. Koby gasped as the wall gave way with a groan, revealing a narrow tunnel slick with algae.
"It's a secret pathway to HQ," you said, flashing him a grin sharp enough to draw blood. His mind short-circuitedâhow does she know Marine secrets, who IS sheââbut the sniper's next shot shattered a crate behind you, sending splinters flying.
You shoved him inside, your palm flat between his shoulder blades. The tunnel smelled of damp earth and gunpowder, the air thick with the hum of distant den den mushi chatter.
Koby's boots slipped on the slime-coated stones, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Whose side are you on?" he blurted, voice cracking.
Your laughter echoed off the walls, low and dangerous. "Whose side are you on, Marine?" you countered, stepping so close he could count the flecks of gold in your eyes.
The sniper's curses faded behind you as the false wall clicked shut, plunging you both into near-darkness. Koby's sword trembled in his gripâpointed at your throat, but his thoughts were already surrendering.
"Thatâthat is not of your business, Koby," you murmured, plucking the sword from his slack fingers with a flick of your wrist. His breath hitched as you pressed the blade back into his scabbard, your fingers lingering on the hilt longer than necessary.
The tunnel shuddered with another distant explosion, dust raining from the ceiling. He could feel the warmth of your thigh pressed against his, smell the citrus-and-gunpowder scent clinging to your skin.
Koby's pulse roared in his ears. His training manuals never covered thisâthe way your teeth flashed in the dim light when you grinned, the way your knee brushed his as you leaned in.
"You wanted to know about Luffy. Why?" he said, the words tumbling out before he could choke them back.
You hesitatedâan odd sensation when you'd spent your entire life reading minds like open books. The tunnel's damp air clung to your skin as you studied Koby's face, the way his pupils dilated even in the gloom.
His thoughts were a storm of conflicting impulsesâMarine protocol screaming interrogate the pirate while his fingers twitched toward your wrist like a drowning man reaching for driftwood.
"I don't have to tell you anything," you said, shifting sidewaysâbut Koby moved faster, his palm slapping against the moss-slick wall beside your head.
The impact sent a shower of grit onto your shoulders. His breath hitched, as surprised as you were by his own boldness. His sleeve brushed your cheek, the fabric still damp with harbor mist and his own blood. For the first time, he was initiating contact instead of recoiling from it.
"I just want to know if you're a friend or a foe to my friend," Koby said, voice steadier than it had any right to be. His fingers flexed near your temple, not touching but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
His pulse jumped in his throatâvisible even in the tunnel's gloom. "I don't care for anything more." The lie tasted bitter in his mouth; you could taste it too, metallic as the blood still seeping through his bandage.
"I'm a close friend to him," you murmured, watching Koby's breath hitch at the admission. His thoughts stutteredâshe knows Luffy? How? When?âbefore settling into something softer, almost wounded. "I haven't seen him in years," you added, softer still.
His fingers twitched against the wall, knuckles whitening. The truth of it ached between your ribsâhow long had it been since you'd seen your brother's grin, heard his laugh? Too long.
Dawn Island burnedâburnedâin your memories, the smell of smoke still clinging to your nightmares. Koby's breath hitched. His thoughts flickeredâimages of Luffy's straw hat bobbing on the waves, his voice shouting promises to the windâbefore locking onto your face with sudden, startling clarity.
"Really? He never mentioned anything," he whispered, voice cracking on the last word.
Koby's fingers dug into the damp brick behind you, his knuckles whitening. The scent of gunpowder clung to his sleeves, mixing with the salt-sweat on his skin.
His thoughts were a frantic scrambleâshe's lying, she can't be, Luffy wouldn't keep secretsâbut beneath the panic, something else flickered: recognition.
"He was too young," you said, your voice barely louder than the drip of seawater echoing through the tunnel. Koby's breath hitched. "Too young to remember me properly."
You didn't know why you were telling him thisâwhy you were confessing family wounds to a Marine recruit in a smuggler's tunnel that reeked of algae and desperation.
Yesterday, he'd been a stranger with pink hair and shaking hands; today, his blood stained your fingers. His pulse hammered against your wrist where you still pressed the makeshift bandage to his arm.
"He saved me from Alvida," Koby started, voice cracking like thin ice underfoot. His fingers twitched against the damp brick, tracing phantom bruises along his ribs. "Then we saved the pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro before leaving him."
The words tumbled outâhalf confession, half pleaâas if naming Luffy's deeds could conjure him between you in this dripping tunnel.
You watched the memories flicker behind Koby's eyes: Luffy's grin splitting the dawn, Zoro's blades flashing, the way the sea had smelled that morningâsalt and hope and something dangerously like freedom.
"I'm happy he's alright," you murmured, fingers brushing Koby's wrist where his pulse rabbited. His skin was fever-hot under your touch. "Do you know where he went?"
Koby swayed suddenly, his pupils dilating unevenly as his knees buckled.
The bulletâyou realized with a joltâhad been poisoned. His thoughts dissolved into hazy fragments, memories of Luffy's laughter blending with the drip of seawater until everything blurred at the edges.
His fingers scrabbled at the mossy wall, nails digging grooves in the slime as his breath came in wet, labored gasps. "IâI think I'mâ" His tongue dragged over the words like they weighed a thousand pounds.
You caught him before he could faceplant into the algae-slick stones, his body heavy and limp against yours. His thoughts were dissolving into nonsenseâLuffy's face morphing into yours, the taste of seawater mixing with the copper tang of blood.
You pressed two fingers to his jugular; his pulse stuttered under your touch, erratic as a storm-tossed ship. The sniper's arrow must have been laced with something viciousâsea prism dust, maybe, or worse.
The tunnel spun around you as Koby's weight dragged you both downward.
His breath hit your neck in shallow puffs, his fingers twitching against your ribs like he was still trying to hold himself upright even as consciousness slipped away.
"Stay with me, pinkie," you hissed, shaking him harder than necessary. His eyelids flutteredâstill fighting, still stubbornâbefore finally sliding shut.
The poison worked fast. You could see it in the unnatural pallor of his lips, the way his veins darkened beneath his skin like ink spreading in water. The sniper's laughter echoed faintly through the stone passage, closer now.
You pressed your ear to Koby's chestâhis heartbeat stuttered like a dying engineâand made a decision.
Koby woke in the infirmary this time, feeling way better. "Ria," he muttered, looking around. No Ria. Just sterile white sheets and the antiseptic sting of iodine in the air.
His bandaged arm throbbed, but his thoughts were startlingly clearâclear enough to remember the press of your fingers against his throat, the exact moment your pupils had dilated with something like panic before the world went black.
Outside the window, smoke curled over Loguetown's rooftops. The sheets beside him were rumpled, still warm, and when he lifted his hand, his fingers came away sticky with something that wasn't bloodâcitrus and gunpowder.
He couldn't really remember anything that happened after the sewer tunnel. Just flashes: your knee digging into his ribs as you hauled him upright, the taste of your lips against his when you forced some bitter liquid down his throatâmedicine or poison, he still wasn't sure.
His head pounded with the ghost of your fingers in his hair, gripping hard enough to hurt as you'd hissed stay awake, damn you.
Koby hoped you were okay. Hoped you'd found Luffyâor at least gotten far enough from Loguetown that the Marines couldn't catch your scent.
The thought of you in chains made his stomach twist worse than the poison had. He flexed his fingers against the stiff infirmary sheets, half-expecting to find your stolen bandana still knotted around his wrist.
Gone. Just like you.
He still didn't know who you were. He hadn't seen any wanted posters of youâhad combed through every bounty notice in the infirmary's discarded newspapersâbut he knew, with the same certainty he knew the sea's pull, that you weren't some civilian caught in the crossfire.
The way you'd movedâfluid as a blade through waterâthe way the sniper's arrows hadn't so much as grazed you.
Normal girls didn't smile at bloodshed. Normal girls didn't press their mouths to a dying Marine's just to force-feed him an antidote stolen from God knows where.
The door crashed open with a splintering crack, and Helmeppo stumbled in, his ridiculous undercut slick with sweat. His gaze flicked to Koby's bandages, then awayâtoo quick, like he'd been caught staring.
"K-Koby!" he blurted, voice cracking mid-syllable. "They're sayingâthey're saying you took down a hundred pirates with Captain Brannew's sword!" His fingers twitched toward his own scabbard, empty now, the blade confiscated after the dockside brawl.
Koby's stomach dropped. The lie tasted like bileâhe hadn't even drawn his sword, had barely managed to stay upright after you'd shoved him into that tunnel.
His fingers curled into the sheets, the phantom weight of your hand still burning against his ribs. "I didn'tâ" he started, but Helmeppo barreled on, his voice rising with each word.
He knew you did it. The realization hit him like a cannonballâthe way the infirmary walls still smelled faintly of citrus and gunpowder, the way his bandages were tied in that peculiar knot sailors used.
Your fingers had been here, tightening these very strips of cloth while he'd fought to stay conscious. His pulse jumped at the memory of your breath against his temple, the way you'd growled don't you dare die on me like it was a personal insult.
Helmeppo's mouth kept moving, spewing some nonsense about promotions and commendations, but Koby wasn't listening. His gaze fixed on the windowâon the thin strip of harbor visible between the infirmary curtains.
There was then a knockâthree sharp raps that made Helmeppo jumpâand Koby said to come in. The door swung open with a groan, revealing Marine Vice Admiral Garp's hulking silhouette.
Koby couldn't tell what his expression was; the old man's face was shadowed by his cap, his mouth hidden beneath that ridiculous mustache.
Garp jerked his chin at Helmeppo. "Out," he grunted. No room for argument. Helmeppo fled like a startled crab, his boots squeaking on the polished floor.
Garp sank into the vacated chair with a sigh that made the bedframe creak. For a long moment, he just stared at Koby's bandages, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his knee.
"You met her," he said finally, voice rough as gravel. Not a question. Koby's pulse stuttered. Garp's gaze lifted, sharp as a blade, and Koby suddenly understood why the man was legendaryâthose eyes saw everything.
"My granddaughter."
The words hung between them, heavy as cannonfire. Koby's mouth went dry. Granddaughter.
The truth clicked into place with brutal clarityâthe silver hoops stolen from a commodore's corpse, the way you'd moved like water through violence, the same reckless glint Luffy got in his eye before swinging fists.
Garp's chuckle was low, humorless. "She's got her mother's temper," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And her father's damned stubbornness."
Garp raised a crumpled wanted poster between them, the paper stiff with dried seawater.
Monkey D. Y/N - DEAD OR ALIVE - 500,000,000 Berries.
The sketch was outdatedâyour hair shorter, your smile sharperâbut unmistakable. Koby's fingers twitched against the sheets.
Ria had been a lie, but the way you'd whispered it against his collarbone felt more real than his own heartbeat now. Garp's thumb obscured the bounty's alias: "The Insight Devil."
The old man's sigh rattled the medicine bottles on the nightstand. "She ate that damned fruit young," he said, watching Koby's face with unsettling focus. "Sees straight through people. Makes it hard toâŠ" His calloused fingers crumpled the poster's edge. "Trust."
The unspoken truth lingeredâyou'd seen every filthy thought in Koby's drunken mind, every cowardly tremor, and still took care of him when he was bleeding out.
Garp threw something on Koby's bedâyour bandana, the same one from the bounty sketch, still reeking of gunpowder and citrus.
"That was how I knew," Garp muttered, turning toward the window where dawn painted the smoke pink. "Y/N loves that bandana more than anything. And now you have it."
The fabric pooled in Koby's lap like a accusation, the embroidered edge frayed where you'd clearly ripped it free in haste.
Koby's fingers shook as he lifted the cloth. The stains were freshâblood, his or yours, he couldn't tellâbut beneath the copper tang, he caught the ghost of your scent. His pulse jumped. Garp's chuckle was grim.
"She left it wrapped around your shoulder when she dumped you here," he said, thumbing the bandana's torn edge. "Like a damn calling card."
Outside, seagulls screamed over the harbor. The bandana's fabric was still warm, as if you'd only just slipped it from your throat. Koby's breath hitchedâhe could see it now, you leaning over him in some shadowy corner of Loguetown's underbelly, fingers fumbling with the knot as Marines closed in.
The realization burned: you'd left him your most prized possession knowing Garp would find it. Knowing he'd understand. The old Marine's grin was all teeth. "Welcome to the family, brat."
Koby's pulse hammered against his ribs. Garp's boot tapped an impatient rhythm against the floorboardsâthree quick raps, just like the knock that had heralded his arrival.
"We'll be leaving to the Marine Headquarters today," Garp said before leaving, his voice rough as gravel. The chair groaned as he stood, his shadow swallowing the infirmary's sterile light.
Koby's fingers clenched around the bandana. Headquarters meant discipline. Debriefing. Distance from the smoky alleyways where your laughter still echoed.
The door clicked shut behind Garp, but the old man's presence lingered like gunpowder residue. Koby pressed the fabric to his noseâcitrus, blood, and beneath it all, the salt-sting of the sea.
Your sea. Somewhere out there, you were hunting Luffy with the same single-minded fury that had carved a half-billion berry bounty onto your back. The bandana's edge was frayed where you'd bitten through the threads in haste.
Down the hall, Helmeppo's shrill voice rose in protest. Koby didn't flinch. His fingers moved on their own, knotting the bandana around his wrist with sailor's precision.
The fabric clung to his skin like a second pulse. Outside the window, the Rising Dawn's sails unfurledâGarp's ship, and now his.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, you were running. Koby closed his eyes and let the sea's pull answer the question burning through his veins: which of you was the hunter now?
As soon as he got discharged, he went to his room to pack his belongings, ignoring the jealous stress of the other recruits. Their whispers slithered under the doorâGarp's favorite, the Hero of Loguetown.
Koby went to wash your bandana afterward, scrubbing the bloodstains from the fabric with shaking hands until the basin ran pink. He couldn't tell if the stains were his or yoursâjust that the water smelled like gunpowder and salt when he wrung it out.
Then he left Headquarters without telling anyone, the cloth knotted tight around his wrist like a promise.
The docks were quieter now, the air thick with the aftermath of smoke and spilled liquor. Koby's boots scuffed the same fishmonger's stall where you'd first watched himâback when he was just Luffy's friend and not the boy who'd held your secrets in his bruised hands.
His fingers traced the grain of the wood, still damp from last night's rain, and wondered if your fingertips had lingered here too.
He looked for you for two hours before he was about to give upâscouring every smuggler's tunnel and brothel, every rooftop where the seagulls screamed like bounty hunters.
Then he bumped into you at the mouth of a salt-stained alley, your shoulder knocking his with the same deliberate carelessness as that first night in the bar.
Your breath hitchedâjust onceâbefore you schooled your face into something neutral, but your pulse jumped under his fingers when he caught your wrist.
"You're alive," he breathed, like he hadn't believed it until this moment.
"You're not dead, thank god," you muttered, more to yourself than him, eyes flicking over the fresh bandages peeking from his collar.
His thumb brushed the inside of your wristâjust onceâand you both froze. His thoughts were a mess of half-formed sentences and jagged memories: the infirmary ceiling, Garp's gravelly voice saying granddaughter, the way your bandana had smelled like gunpowder when he woke.
The alley smelled of rotting fish and damp wood, the same as that first night, but now his fingers trembled against your skin for entirely different reasons.
You could see the questions stacking up behind his ribsâwhy did you leave, why did you save me, who are you really.
"You lied," Koby blurted, voice cracking halfway through. His grip tightenedânot enough to hurt, just enough to feel real. The accusation hung between you, raw as the fresh scar under his bandages.
Your pulse stuttered under his fingers. You could taste the citrus-bitter sting of his thoughtsâgranddaughter, bounty, Insight Devilâbut beneath it, something softer, warmer: Ria, Ria, Ria.
The bandana slid from his wrist to yours, the fabric still damp from his scrubbing.
"I had to. You were a Marine," you said, voice ragged as the torn edge of your bandana. His breath hitchedânot at the lie, but at the truth beneath it: you'd seen every cowardly tremor in his soul and stayed anyway.
Koby blinked. His fingers hovered near your elbow, hesitantâa Marine recruit touching a pirate was treason, but the way his pulse jumped said he'd already crossed that line.
"You thought I would take you in?" His voice cracked on the last word, the accusation crumbling mid-sentence. His mind flashed with images of Garp's crumpled bounty poster, the way your aliasâThe Insight Devilâhad burned his tongue.
"I knew you wouldn't," you murmured, turning your wrist so the bandana's frayed edge caught the light. His breath hitched as your fingers brushed his palmâa ghost touch, gone before he could lean into it. "Your thoughts never hinted at it."
The lie tasted like seawaterâsharp, briny. You'd seen the moment his training warred with his want, the way his fingers had twitched toward his empty scabbard before curling into fists at his sides.
But his thoughts now were all warm honey and broken glass: stay, run, tell her.
Koby's throat worked. The alley's shadows painted his collarbone in stripes where his uniform gapedâfresh blood speckled the bandages beneath. His pulse jumped when you traced the stain with your thumb, the fabric stiff with iodine and salt.
"Youâ" His voice cracked. "You could've left me there." His fingers twitched toward your ribs, stopping just short of the knife strapped there.
The blade was still crusted with sewer filth from where you'd carved through the Marine cordon to haul him out.
You inhaled sharplyâjust onceâbefore your palm flattened against his sternum, pushing him back with deliberate gentleness. His pulse hammered beneath your fingertips, frantic as a bird caught in a storm.
"You're one of Luffy's friends," you said, softer now, voice fraying at the edges like your stolen bandana. "I couldn't let you die."
Koby swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against your knuckles. The alleyway's shadows pooled in the hollow of his throat, turning his skin the same bruised purple as your fading fingerprints.
"Butâbut I'm a Marine," he stammered, fingers tightening around your wristânot to restrain, just to feel the jump of your pulse beneath his thumb.
You laughedâsharp, bitterâand the sound made him flinch. "And I'm a pirate," you said, voice dropping low as a knife sliding between ribs.
His thoughts splintered against your consciousness: wrong wrong wrong she's Luffy's sister she's Garp's bloodâ
"Doesn't change what I saw in your head when you thought you were dying." His breath hitched. You leaned in, close enough to taste the salt on his lips. "You didn't wanted me to leave."
Silence stretched between you, taut as a sniper's bowstring. Somewhere above, a seagull shriekedâa Marine patrol rounding the docks.
Koby's fingers trembled against your ribs where the knife lay sheathed. His voice came out cracked in two: "That was before I knew who you were."
You smirked, slow and dangerous, watching his pupils dilate. "Liar," you whispered, thumb brushing the fresh scar beneath his collar. His pulse leapt against your fingertips like a trapped thing. "I know what you thought when you woke up with my bandana in your hands."
Koby's breath caughtâand then he heard the marines moving far towards the docks, their boots crunching gravel in perfect sync.
Your fingers twitched against his wrist, the bandana's damp fabric sticking to his skin. His grip tightened instinctively, pulling you deeper into the alley's shadows just as the patrol rounded the corner.
You tried to leaveâshifted your weight onto your back foot, ready to vanish into the maze of Loguetown's underbellyâbut he hauled you back with surprising strength.
His palm slammed against the salt-crusted wall beside your head, caging you in. Then his mouth crashed into yoursâquick, desperateâhis lips tasting of seawater and something bitter, like medicine left too long in the sun.
The kiss was clumsyâtoo much teeth, not enough breathâbut his fingers curled into your shirt like he was drowning and you were the only air left.
You could see his thoughts, fractured and franticâwrong wrong wrong she's a pirate she's Luffy's sister she'sâ but beneath the panic, something molten and undeniable. His pulse hammered against your palm where it still pressed against his chest.
You broke away first, breathing hard. His pupils were blown wide, lips swollen from the force of it. The patrol's voices grew louderâclose enough to hear Helmeppo's shrill whiningâbut Koby didn't move.
His fingers trembled where they still gripped your waist. "You saw that," he whispered, voice raw. Not a question. The bandana around your wrist was damp with seawater nowâor maybe sweat. You couldn't tell.
Outside the alley, the marines called his name. Koby flinched, but his hands stayed locked around you.
His thoughts were a stormâdesertion court-martial treasonâbut beneath it all, one crystalline truth: not letting go.
You smirked against his jaw, tasting salt and iron where his pulse thundered. "Bad Marine," you murmured, just as Helmeppo's voice cracked around the cornerâ"K-Koby!"
You could see the moment he made the choiceâhis shoulders squaring, his breath steadyingâbefore he shoved you deeper into the shadows with unsurprising strength.
"Go," he hissed, but his fingers lingered on your hip for one stolen second too long.
Boots pounded closer. You slipped through the gap in the crates just as Helmeppo burst into the alley, his ridiculous undercut matted with harbor filth.
Koby stood alone, shoulders heaving, the bandana knotted tight around his wrist like a battle standard. Helmeppo's gaze flicked to itâtoo quick, like he'd been caught staringâbefore his voice rose in a shrill accusation. "Youâyou smell like her!"
Koby denied itâtoo fast, voice cracking mid-sentenceâand took Helmeppo away with a rough yank on his sleeve, not before taking a glance where you'd left.
His fingers lingered on the damp brick where your palm had been pressed seconds ago.
You exhaled through your teethâslow, controlledâfrom your perch atop the fishmonger's awning. The bandana around your wrist still smelled like himâsalt and gunpowder and something painfully earnest.
Below, Koby's thoughts were a riot of contradictionsâwrong wrong wrongâbut his pulse still hammered your name against his ribs.
The Rising Dawn's sails snapped taut in the harbor wind. Somewhere beyond the docks, Garp waited.
You curled your fingers around the knife at your ribsâstill crusted with sewer filthâand let the sea's pull answer the question burning through your veins: how many laws had he already broken by letting you walk away?
Then time blurredâsalt-stained alleys giving way to the Thousand Sunny's sun-warmed deck, Luffy's laughter ringing familiar against your ribs as he shoved meat into your hands.
His fingers were sticky with honey when he slung an arm around your shoulders, grinning wide enough to crack his face.
"Remember whenâ" he started, words tumbling over each other in that breathless way of his, and suddenly you were knee-deep in shared memoriesâstolen fruit carts, Garp's fist-shaped bruises, the way the two of you had once tied Ace's shoelaces together mid-battle.
Then Luffy paused, his mouth half-full of bread. "Oh! And Kobyâ" Your fingers twitched around your fork. Luffy's grin faltered.
"You know Koby?" His voice was light, but his gaze sharpenedârare focus cutting through the usual chaos.
The air between you thickened with everything you hadn't saidâthe bandana's frayed edge, the way Koby's pulse had jumped under your thumb when you'd traced his hair.
You forced your shoulders to relax, stabbing a piece of meat with deliberate nonchalance. "He's a Marine," you said, voice flat. Luffy's grin slipped further. His fingers curled around a fresh loaf of bread, knuckles whitening.
Then Luffy's face split into a shit-eating grin. He leaned in close, bread crumbs dusting your shoulder. "You like him," he sing-songed, voice dripping with glee. Your fork screeched against the plate. Somewhere above, seagulls screamed like they knew too much.
Luffy's knee bumped yours beneath the tableâdeliberate, insistent. "Koby's cool," he said through a mouthful of meat, suddenly serious.
His fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against the woodâthree quick taps, just like Garp's knock. Your pulse stuttered.
"I don'tâ" Your fingers tightened around your fork. The lie tasted like seawaterâsharp, briny.
You'd seen the way your heartbeat had stuttered when Koby's lips brushed yours in that alley, the way your fingers had lingered on his wrist when you'd stolen his breath back.
Luffy blinked at you, slow and knowing. Then he burst out laughingâloud enough to startle the gulls from the riggingâand shoved another piece of meat into your mouth.
"You're a bad liar," he said, grinning wide enough to crack his cheeks.
"It doesn't matter, he's a Marine and I'm a pirate," you said, voice flat as a blade against stone. The fork bent between your fingersâjust slightlyâbefore you forced yourself to relax.
Luffy's smile faded. He tilted his head, straw hat shadowing his eyes in that rare moment of quiet intensity. "But you saw him," he murmured softly.
You exhaled through your nose, tasting salt and iron where your teeth had bitten your cheek. Koby's thoughts had been a mess of contradictionsâwrong wrong wrongâbut his hands had been steady when they pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you admitted finally, voice rough as the bandana still knotted around your wrist. "I saw him."
Luffy's grin softened at the edges, something knowing in the curve of his mouth. "Koby's different," he said through a full mouth, juice dripping down his chin. "He's got that thingâthat wanting." His grin turned sharp, sudden as a knife drawn in the dark. "Same as you."
The meat turned to ash in your mouth. You'd seen that wantingâthe way Koby's pulse had stuttered when your fingers brushed his hair, the way his thoughts had fractured into stay run tell her like a mantra. Outside, the sea roared against the hull, relentless as the truth twisting in your ribs.
Luffy's laughter startled the gulls from the rigging again. "Imagine his face if I told him Garp was my grandpa," he crowed, slapping his knee. His grin widened as your fingers twitched around your fork. "Bet he'd really freak if he knew you were my sister."
The unspoken truth hung between you like a bladeâKoby had kissed Garp's granddaughter in a filthy alley, and his hands hadn't shaken once.
You pushed away from the table, the bench scraping against the deck. "Doesn't matter," you muttered, but the bandana around your wrist suddenly felt tighterâthe knot too much like the one Koby had tied with sailor's precision.
The sea stretched endlessly beyond the railing, salt-stung and merciless. Somewhere out there, Koby's ship cut through the waves, his fingers perhaps tracing the same frayed edge of memory.
The galley door banged open behind you. Nami's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Stop antagonizing her, Luffy." Her gaze flicked to your wristâto the bandana's telltale frayâbefore landing on your face with unnerving clarity. "Besides," she added, smirking as she tossed an orange from hand to hand, "we all know Marines make the worst liars."
The fruit's citrus scent sliced through the salt air, sharp as Koby's gasp when you'd bitten his lip.
Luffy's sandals slapped against the deck as he bounded after you. "Hey," he said, suddenly serious, his fingers curling around your elbow with surprising gentleness.
His straw hat cast shadows over his eyes, but his voice was clearâno laughter, no teasing. "Koby's one of the good ones." The unspoken words lingered between you, heavy as the sea's pull: he saw you, and he stayed.
Your breath hitchedâjust onceâbefore you schooled your face into something neutral.
The bandana around your wrist still smelled like gunpowder and salt, the fabric frayed where Koby's teeth had caught it when he kissed you. Luffy's fingers tightenedânot enough to hurt, just enough to feel real.
His grin was gone now, replaced by something sharper, fiercer. "He knows who you are," he said, voice low. "And he stillâ"
Luffy exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring. "You saw him," he repeated, softer now, thumb brushing the bandana's edge where it dug into your skin.
Somewhere beyond the railing, the sea roared. The Rising Dawn's sails were a speck on the horizon nowâtoo far to make out the pink-haired boy who might've been staring back.
Luffy's grip slackened, but his gaze didn't waver. "He's waiting," he said finally, voice rough as the bandana's frayed threads.
Then, quieter: "You know he is."
Your reply caught in your throatâhalf-formed, sharp as the knife at your ribs. "He's a Marine," you spat instead, fingers twisting the fabric around your wrist tighter.
The words tasted like salt and gunpowder, bitter as Koby's mouth had been when you'd forced the antidote past his lips. Luffy's eyes narrowedânot in anger, but in that terrifying way he sometimes looked at you, like he could see straight through to the pulse hammering beneath your skin.
End it. That's what you should've doneâleft Koby bleeding in that sewer, let the Marines find him before dawn painted the smoke pink over Loguetown. You'd done it beforeâwalked away from allies, lovers, enemies who knew too much. But your fingers still remembered the hitch in his breath when you'd pressed the bandana to his wound, the way his thoughts had fractured into don't go don't go like a prayer.
You touched your lips unconsciously, the ghost of Koby's chapped mouth still burning against yours. The memory hit you like a cannonballâthe way his fingers had trembled against your ribs, not in fear but in something worse: recognition.
He'd seen you, really seen you, even after Garp's revelation. Your pulse jumped beneath your fingers, frantic as a trapped bird.
The bandana around your wrist smelled like him nowâsalt and gunpowder and that stupidly earnest shampoo Helmeppo probably forced on him.
You inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the frayed edge where Koby's teeth had caught the fabric. Luffy's gaze burned into your back, his silence louder than any accusation.
The unspoken truth coiled between you like live wire: you'd kissed a Marine in a filthy alley and hadn't regretted it once. . . .
