Having a crush on a fictional man as an adult is lowkey embarrassing as hell. Like wdym I’m having trouble falling asleep at night because I can’t stop thinking about??? This guy???:
"Hiding your devil fruit from everyone is the only rule. Unless it's your crush."
Fem!reader
Characters: Monkey D. Luffy
Tags: fluff, angst, the timeline starts at Thriller Bark and contains spoilers up to Egghead, mention of Ace's death
Words count: 13k
Notes: Hi! English is not my first language, so let me know if you see any mistake, I would be very grateful <3
The sea obeyed your voice.
Its waters danced and whispered just for you, caressing your feet and soothing your pains, thrilling your soul with its gentle mirages that carried you back home. Pleased to embrace you in its waves once more. Pleased with your return.
The sea waited for you for centuries. Patient. Longing. Tearful.
No soul had been born who could tame its ferocity. The times were divine, rushing to shore without coinciding with him could be a catastrophe. So it forced itself to endure. To tolerate the pain. To tolerate the desire to see him again.
It remained hidden under the wing of a specific family, protected by them on a remote island in Grand Line, for centuries without being disturbed. They passed the word down from parents to children, grandparents to grandchildren. That devil fruit, kept in a locked chest, with its peculiar conch shell shape that glowed in shades of blue and light blue, was not to be consumed.
The fruit would choose its bearer. Like no other, it would sing to attract whoever it desired, until it made them carry an unknown destiny. Anyone who coveted it wrongly would be punished.
And everyone learned to respect it.
You had always been curious. Why was your family the only one who knew about its existence and could take care of it, when there were so many others on the island? Why couldn't anyone else even get close enough to appreciate it? What was known about that devil fruit was passed on by word of mouth. Your aunt had told you about its appearance during a festival in the village, while dancing with laughter, one jump after another, to the rhythm of "don, don, don, don", but she didn't know if it was real either. Someone else had told her about it.
Your grandmother wouldn't let anyone near the old temple on the highest hill on the island. The task of caring for it was relegated to a few women in the family, those who had the gift of hearing. Hearing what? You thought it was nonsense. How could anyone hear a fruit? As a child, you couldn't make sense of it.
But curiosity kept you awake.
And you understood everything at the age of seven.
A festival to an ancient god was being celebrated in the village. Sitting on a bench —a tree trunk cut down by your father—, you admired those present. There it was again. That rhythm. That dance. It was fun, it was playful, it was free. The huge smiles on their faces were something that only that dance could give.
The dance of Nika.
They did it once a month, as if trying to call him, intending him to join in the fun if he saw them, and something inside you told you that this god would do just that. He would join them with a huge laugh. And the party would never end.
But what was happening here was more than just a party. It was a plea. The people of your village and your family believed that he would return to save them. And someone important would come with him.
You shook your head from side to side, playing with the fabric of your white dress when you heard it.
A melancholic voice sang melodies that pressed on your heart. You were too young to understand the longing behind that song, the pain of loss. Its slowness differed from the joy in Nika's rhythm.
You covered your ears, not wanting to hear any more. But it was calling you. It was making you get up from your seat against your will.
Under the watchful gaze of your grandmother, whom you could not see through the sea of people, you made your way towards the forest. The old woman heard the crying in that song, more intense than ever. It was different from what it always whispered to her. Now it was crying out for you.
You followed the path with a grimace. It was lit by small golden lanterns shaped like flowers. Despite your fear of being scolded for entering the forbidden area, you couldn't help but follow that voice. Its broken song gradually changed, becoming a little more cheerful. Enough so as not to break your heart. You wondered if this is what the song of the sirens sounded like, the ones you read about in your book, the ones who lived on gyojin island.
You stopped in front of the temple. How many minutes had it taken you to climb the hill? You had lost track of time while enveloped in those melodies.
Seeing it up close took your breath away. Tall marble pillars surrounded by ivy stood before you. A glass dome revealed the interior of the place, making your blood run cold.
A golden statue of a woman stood in the middle, surrounded by water. Would you sink if you approached it? Or would it be shallow, free to walk towards it? That woman looked up at the sky with her back to you, her arms outstretched, her fingers curved as if touching something.
Was she singing? Could a statue sing? Or was it...? You searched with your eyes until you found it. A chest rested at her feet, surrounded by vines. As if it had never been touched before.
But something in that voice asked you to. Something in that woman's position begged you for something.
You dipped your tiny feet into the water and a sigh of relief escaped from within you when the water only reached your hips. For an adult, it would reach their knees or lower.
You walked across the slimy ground covered in seaweed, pouting in disgust. Your grandmother protected this place, but it seemed she didn't clean it, given its condition.
The singing grew softer as you got closer. The moonlight made the statue look more beautiful, but its golden colour would shine brighter in the sun.
When you reached its feet, which were in front of your face, you raised your hands to the vines, pulling them off one by one. The chest, once freed, looked old. Conveniently, a key lay beside it. You shook your head in confusion. No one had stolen it in centuries, and you had made it there without anyone stopping you. What were they afraid of? It was silly to fear a fruit. Surely it had some foolish power, like the men on the reward posters that arrived every week. There were a few incredible powers, but there were also fruits that seemed bad to you.
You inserted the key into the lock, opening the chest carefully so as not to break it. You widened your eyes in amazement when you saw it. It shone in shades of blue and light blue, shaped like a seashell. So this was what the devil's fruit looked like. You took it in your hands, not knowing that you were being allowed to do so. Not knowing that your destiny was being forged.
Standing by the island's beach, with the celebration behind her, your grandmother smiled softly. The clock was ticking again.
He had already been born and consumed his fruit, and he had chosen you at the same time to accompany him.
With the sudden violence of the sea that night, the people dancing merrily and a little girl spitting in a temple alone, the old woman welcomed the goddess of the sea.
The "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia" had chosen its bearer.
Your growth since that night had been quite an adventure. Your grandmother had told you things, like the name of the fruit and where it came from. The reason why your family had protected it for generations and generations finally had an answer. You were direct descendants of Naia, but the goddess was jealous and refused to choose a woman before the time. You didn't know who she was waiting for, and the old woman didn't have a concrete answer. Only old beliefs that had been instilled in her, which she couldn't vouch for as being true.
But if you were there, in front of her, surrounded by fish that seemed to be talking to you, then there was a chance that he was also in another sea.
The longer you lived in the village, the more miracles happened. The famine ceased with the increasing abundance of fish. Your unconscious attracted large fish and beasts from the Grand Line, which were hunted to feed the villagers. They ate through tears, thanking the sun god for his help, without knowing who was really responsible.
Ships began to stop there. After four years, your voice began to attract sailors, bounty hunters, and pirates. With their visits, the families around you were able to support themselves. The imminent improvement in the standard of living among these villagers caught the attention of the world government. An island was rising and should not remain outside their hands, living according to their laws. Abiding by the rules was the best they could do.
However, no one could accept it. The hatred in their hearts consumed them alive. These people were not the kind who wanted to be protected by the marine or receive the light of the world government by paying tribute. No. These people had their beliefs, beliefs that those above despised. Beliefs for which they would seek to silence them.
Your grandmother knew that your devil fruit would bring trouble. If the legends were true, the search for your existence would be relentless.
A woman with the ability to control the sea was an aberration to everyone who admired her. A forbidden existence hidden like a myth.
But myths had an origin and, in turn, someone who tried to destroy them.
As a very young girl, you had no control over the sea. The strong emotions he was unaccustomed to sent him into a frenzy. Your cries stirred up hurricanes, impossible to stop until your heart was calm again. Your anger violently shook the waves, your sudden outbursts calling forth tsunamis.
Their frequency was not something that the world government —who kept their eyes on the island that was suddenly making a name for itself— could ignore. Marines disguised as sailors or ordinary tourists came and went, reporting what they saw. Was that island changing its magnetic field? After centuries of maintaining the same one? Or was something beyond their control happening?
It was after a huge earthquake and a subsequent tsunami, one that was out of the ordinary, with waves so big that they flooded the coast and left the island without a port, that your grandmother made the decision to expel you. CP0 began prowling the area when you were seventeen. They walked around looking at all the women, with instructions to pay special attention to the youngest ones.
Any who showed abnormalities. Any who seemed to interact unnaturally with the sea. Any who talked to fish.
The one who could be the woman the five elders wanted desperately.
Your grandmother, your aunt, and your mother did everything in their power. Sooner or later, those government agents would find the temple to the goddess Naia, confirming the suspicions of the celestial dragons. That temple, that golden statue facing the sun, was the only one in the world.
Those who knew her believed she had died, leaving no trace of her passage through life, a woman who would never set foot in such a rotten place again. But there she was, laughing in their faces, always hidden, always waiting for the right moment to return.
The three women in your family knew that news of such magnitude would not sit well. Everyone was in danger, not just you. And they were willing to face them as long as they could be reunited.
Your mother pulled you by the hand, all of them covering their mouths to stifle their tired gasps. The forest was the village's domain, illuminated in every corner, trees marked to indicate the paths back home. Your aunt carried a bag of clothes and your grandmother led the way.
They came upon a flooded coastline. Four villagers were holding onto tree trunks, pulling on ropes tied to the boat to keep it steady. They had placed two barrels of provisions inside. You looked at everyone in alarm, not knowing what to say, not wanting to leave.
This island was your home. Everyone had watched you grow up. Why did you have to leave everything behind? Just because of an ancient legend that no one knew was real?
The old woman placed her hands on your cheeks after your aunt had wrapped the bag around your body.
"You must flee, child." She whispered.
You shook your head, frightened. Yes, your devil fruit seemed to control the sea, but you had never sailed. You had never gone out into the world. And you would not be going out onto a calm sea. You lived in Grand Line, and out there were fearsome pirates, the yonko sailed those waters.
"It's for your own good. And for the good of the world." She tucked your hair behind your ear with trembling hands. "One day you'll understand."
"I don't want to go." You whispered, looking at your mother pleadingly.
"It is Naia's will." Your grandmother called your attention again. "You, Y/N, must continue living."
Naia, that mythical goddess again. What did it matter if you were her chosen one for something you couldn't understand?
"Lie. Don't talk about your devil fruit. Don't reveal it to anyone. That way you can survive." Your mother's words squeezed your heart.
"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine." Your aunt said with a smile.
"Destiny will bring the two of you together." Murmured the older woman.
Her kisses on your forehead, the calm sea as the villagers lifted you onto the boat, their hands waving in the distance, your uncontrollable crying.
You didn't know how long you had cried as the small boat sailed on its own course. The sea remained calm around you as it carried you as far away as possible from your native island. An island where government agents searched relentlessly for a young woman who fit the description, interrogating and silently murdering those who refused to cooperate.
At some point, your eyes closed after crying for so long, each tear altering the sea around your island, unknowingly embracing the lifeless bodies of many girls you called your friends, as well as those of adults and elderly women. Among them, your family.
All protecting a goddess who would help a new dawn arrive.
Usopp prepared his bait, ready to catch something. They hadn't put anything in the aquarium for days. Luffy had put another shark in, and it had eaten all the fish, leaving them without provisions, without meat. Their captain was more unbearable than ever, and he had only gone a day and a half without eating meat.
He cast his line, humming his song as he tapped his feet. The sun burned his skin, and the sea seemed particularly calm that day. Would he catch anything if no fish came near the worms he had stolen from Robin's garden?
Zoro left his weight on the ground, opening the window of the crow's nest.
"Oi, there's something shining in the water." He announced.
Usopp raised his fishing rod, looking for his binoculars. Nami and Robin put down their magazines and books and stood up.
"Something shiny? Treasure?" Nami asked, smiling.
"I want to see!" Luffy shouted, opening the kitchen door. His rubber arms stretched out to the deck railing, throwing himself towards it to get there faster.
Robin smiled as she watched him jump up and down excitedly. Soon the others arrived, crowding around the railing. Chopper was lifted up by Zoro, who sat him on his shoulder so he could see better. Sanji stood next to them, smoking.
"We have to catch it!" Said Luffy.
"Oi, Luffy, wait." Usopp murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "First we need to see what it is from a distance."
"We can always throw it back into the sea." Added Robin.
"You're so scary!" Shouted Usopp.
"Luffy, bring that shiny thing over here." Ordered Nami to the rubber boy, looking excitedly at the glint in the distance.
The captain's arms stretched out as far as they could, pulling the small boat towards the Sunny Go at a speed that the sea offered no resistance to. Refusing to protect her from him.
"I see barrels!" Chopper shouted.
"Super!" Franky celebrated.
"Will they have food? I hope it's in good condition." Said Sanji.
"I hope it's treasure..." Nami said dreamily, clasping her hands together with a huge smile.
"I hope it doesn't kill us." Usopp lamented, thinking it was a trap.
"We can always throw it back into the sea." Robin repeated.
Luffy blinked, tilting his head to one side. Inside the boat was a girl, sleeping as if she weren't in the Grand Line. He pressed his lips together when he noticed the trail of tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes were still wet, as if she had never stopped crying, even in her dreams.
"Chopper, we have to help her."
The seriousness in his tone alerted the crew. They looked closely, the sun no longer dazzling their eyes, revealing the figure trembling as she hugged a bag.
"We have to get her on board!" The crew's doctor ran to Franky after Zoro brought him down.
They all worked together without asking any questions yet.
There was a girl in their infirmary. A girl who had suddenly appeared amid those treacherous waters, sleeping as if she didn't care about the danger of her actions. A girl who was burning with fever while the little reindeer placed damp cloths on her forehead.
Sanji made tea for everyone while they waited for news from the doctor, curious about her identity.
"I checked her belongings. There was nothing with her name on it. Just clothes and food." Robin commented.
Nami tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and sighed.
"All we can do is wait for her to wake up."
"How did she survive?" Murmured Zoro, leaning against the kitchen wall with his arms crossed.
"It's a mystery. Falling asleep in Grand Line with all the pirates around who could have killed her..." Robin shook her head.
"Lucky we found her." Nami acknowledged.
Sanji was holding back, but the soft smile on his face and the multiple turns he made while serving tea told everyone how happy he was with the presence of another woman in the crew. The swordsman insulted him under his breath, earning himself a kick, and then starting a fight.
Everyone ignored them, accustomed to their behaviour. As the hours passed, uncertainty grew among those present. They continued with their activities while you were being treated. All that remained was to wait for you to wake up and tell them about yourself.
You opened your eyes slightly, looking around in confusion. It wasn't your boat. There was no captivating sky above you. There were no waves rocking your body to calm your crying.
You sat up a little on the examination table, leaning on one elbow. The two lamps that illuminated the area provided good lighting. On your left were two small shelves with bottles, their labels showing you the names of their contents. Medicines. Looking to your right, a single desk stood with more medical instruments. Laboratory tubes with different coloured caps, a stone mortar, many books and posters with drawings, from lungs to bones.
But what caught your attention most was the creature sitting in the chair. It looked like a stuffed animal. You had never seen anything like it on your home island.
"Oh! You're awake!" A shrill voice startled you.
Did that stuffed animal talk?
"What are you?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. "Can you talk? Where am I?"
"I'm the doctor for this crew." He climbed onto a stool next to you to examine you.
You seemed to be feeling better. Sanji could prepare something to boost your strength.
"A pirate crew?" You whispered fearfully.
The worst-case scenario was being captured by pirates. You mentally berated yourself for not being more careful. For falling asleep. For not begging harder to stay at home.
"Wait here." Said the little one, adjusting his tiny doctor’s coat as he left what looked like the infirmary.
You found him cute, but you weren’t going to admit it. You had to escape, not succumb to this creature. You found your sandals next to the examination table and put them on. You climbed down, making as little noise as possible, and opened the door again. You found yourself on the deck, its grass making you gasp, but you covered your mouth so as not to be discovered.
You had to survive. You had to hide. That's what your grandmother would have wanted. Your mother. Your aunt. They had all given you the chance to live. You just hoped they were all right.
You ran towards the deck in search of your boat, but growled when you didn't see it.
"Wait! Don't jump!" A female voice shouted behind you.
You turned around fearfully. A beautiful woman with short orange hair was approaching you slowly, careful not to scare you any more.
"I'm Nami. The navigator of this crew." She introduced herself with a sweet smile.
"Am I on a pirate ship?"
"We're not like other pirates." The woman assured you.
"We're good!" Shouted the doctor behind her. "And you shouldn't be out of bed. You could get sick again."
"My angel, allow this cook to be your slave and treat you like the princess you are." Said a man crouching in front of you with a bowl of soup. It smelled good. Did he say slave?
You blinked in confusion.
"Why don't you become my slave and, as your first order, jump off the ship?" Said a man with green hair and two katanas at his waist.
The blond's eyebrow twitched and he turned towards the swordsman, kicking him.
"You're going to scare her." Said a melodious voice. A woman with black hair and bangs looked at you with a sweet gaze.
"You're not going to kill us, are you?" Asked a man with a long nose hiding behind the black-haired girl.
"I thought you were going to kill me."
"Usopp is afraid of cockroaches. You could kill him with that before he tries anything." Teased the orange-haired girl.
"Oi, Nami, why are you telling her that!?"
You watched them interact for a few minutes. They were... funny. Like a little family. They didn't look like the pirates you read about in your books or in the newspaper. The dreaded Rocks D. Xebec, the mighty Whitebeard, the youngest yonko Shanks. They were all intimidating, with powerful crews, but these pirates were strange.
You smiled softly, unaware of the gaze of a certain rubber boy sitting on the lion's head.
His eyes, curious about the girl in front of him, tried to find something he had seen before. Some trace of those tears that soaked your cheeks, as if the pain you carried was greater than you wanted to show. What you hid inside you would one day explode, but until then, until you let him see it, he only wanted one thing from you.
"Join my crew!" He shouted from above. "That way you won't have to go on that little boat."
You looked up, and the air around you seemed unreachable, forbidding you to have it as you lost yourself in that smile, so bright as it melted into the setting sun.
It wasn't like you to trust so quickly. It wasn't like you to wander around with your eyes closed, without trying to figure out other people's intentions. But nothing in his gaze, in their gazes, showed you any hostility or malice. That young man who stood above everyone else as their captain had a calming aura. As if everyone would be fine by his side. As if even the greatest dangers could not disturb them with him by their side.
You knew you could have refused that day. Sailed alone until you found another island. But wherever you went, you would carry the danger with you.
And along with them, you discovered that the danger was represented by their captain.
On your first day after agreeing to join, everyone introduced themselves to you. The doctor was called Chopper, a cute blue-nosed reindeer who loved telling you medical facts, eating cotton candy, and hated the heat. He knew a lot about medicinal herbs and had an incredible dream.
The beautiful black-haired woman was Nico Robin, wanted by the World Government for being the only survivor of Ohara. She was an archaeologist and her knowledge of everything dazzled you. They told you that they had defied the World Government to save her life, and your heart beat faster.
If they knew that CP0 was after you, would they fight for you? Could you be that important to them?
The navigator, Nami, had been part of the crew from the beginning. She liked to buy pretty clothes and treasures. But what fascinated you most was her knowledge of the weather, her ability to anticipate the sea. You didn't need to announce the whispers of those waters if she could interpret them.
The long-nosed guy, Usopp, served as a sniper. His weapon confused you, forcing you to shut your mouth when you saw him use it. He never missed a single shot, always hitting the target. Nami and Robin would bet, and the short-haired girl always won because she trusted him.
The green-haired man was Roronoa Zoro, who had earned a reputation as a pirate hunter. He was serious and slept a lot, but when he laughed, he laughed heartily. He also had a strange obsession with annoying the blond man. The cook with the weird phrases and compliments, Sanji. His meals were a delicacy, and he had taken the time to ask you what your favourite was so he could make it and make you smile.
The man who only wore swimming trunks was the ship's carpenter, Franky. He had built the Sunny Go, and you considered it a work of art. You complimented the aquarium, and the area would possibly become your favourite.
And the captain, Monkey D. Luffy. That boy with his silly rubber devil fruit that made you smile. He was cheerful, playful, and funny. If everyone was here, he must be someone trustworthy.
Everything about him caught your attention.
As the days passed, you allowed yourself to feel comfortable around them. Perhaps this wasn't what your grandmother would have preferred, but if these people were enemies of the world government, then there was no safer place for you and your true identity.
No one could find a faceless girl with forbidden abilities, let alone imagine that she was now a pirate.
You told them what you could about yourself. Saying your name or talking about where you were born was not a challenge. These people did not judge you or pry into your past, not if it did not directly affect them. You discovered that they tolerated being mocked, but they did not tolerate anyone talking to or touching their friends. It was a silent respect for one another, a fondness that went beyond understanding. They were friends, they were where they needed to be. Where they belonged.
And just as everyone had their role in the crew, you couldn't really find yours.
They didn't force you to learn how to fight like an expert, but they wanted to teach you the basics so you could defend yourself.
You couldn't reveal the truth about your devil fruit. You had only mentioned that you had one, but you didn't know its powers. You had never used it to attack, as you had never been forced or needed to do so. You had never seen what it limited you to and what it promised you. With the "Hito Hito no Mi, model: Naia", you could only hear fish and sea creatures. And there was something else. Something you had discovered that embraced you in your darkest moments.
The addition of Brook —a skeleton who played various instruments and sang, which almost gave you a heart attack when you saw him— helped a lot to maintain a façade. His devil fruit had worked after he died. Everyone assumed that yours would awaken when the time was right.
Living day to day, joke after joke, disaster after disaster, was relaxing you.
You played with water pistols with everyone, shared clothes with Nami and Robin (and at night you spoiled each other with face masks and massages), you laughed at Sanji and Zoro's fights, rejected the cook's attempts to take you on a date, played guessing games about what was inside Chopper's laboratory tubes to make him smile, gave Brook ideas for songs while you drank tea together, joined in Franky and Usopp's shooting competitions, betting on who would hit the target. Always trusting the sniper, winning berries that you shared with Nami.
Luffy taught you your little training sessions to learn how to defend yourself. More than once he found you staring at him blankly, thinking you didn't understand how to throw a good punch, when in reality you were just mesmerised. Enchanted by his joy. By his smile. By his disposition. By his beauty.
"You have to bring one arm back and then push with the other! Like this!" He said, frowning in concentration.
Nami and Robin watched them, both leaning against the railing on the upper floor, outside the room the three of you shared.
"Luffy always gets like this when he decides to take on a pupil..." Sighed the navigator. "Luffy, Y/N isn't a kung fu dugong!"
The rubber boy looked at you.
"You're not going to make it?" He lamented, lowering his arms. "Zoro! Lend her one of your katanas!"
"No way." Muttered the swordsman without opening his eyes, trying to sleep.
Preparing your mind and body to improve your defence, those weak blows you used to deliver, was something you never imagined you would have to do when you lived in your village. Keeping up with your captain and the crew's cook was torture. Kicks to the head, hips, legs. Punches to the chin, stomach, nose. They were trying to teach you something you could use in a complex situation, if you didn't have time to hide. Which seemed silly to you.
Luffy's dream was to become the pirate king.
A noble dream. A dream for the brave.
He talked to you about freedom, about how the freest man in the world would be the one who became the pirate king, and you listened to him. He would sit next to you after training, when Sanji left them alone to prepare a snack at sunset. The rubber boy talked about everything and nothing. The words flowed from him as if from an inexhaustible source.
In a short time, you got to know his older brother, Ace, who, impressively, was the commander of Whitebeard's second division. A certain Dadan who raised them both alongside some mountain bandits. A young woman named Makino who always brought them clothes and taught them manners. His grandfather Garp, who served as a vice admiral in the marine and always wanted to force him to join. The yonko Shanks, who was the original owner of his straw hat, with whom he had a mission to return it when he surpassed him. And his brother Sabo, who died as a child and whom he missed madly.
Luffy talked and talked, filling your silences, smiling at you when you said something. Patiently waiting for you to talk about yourself. Eagerly waiting for you to open up. For your freedom by his side. Because that was what he wanted most for his friends. For them to be free.
But what chance of freedom could he give them if he was suffering so much?
His reality hit him like cold water. He was there, and yet he wasn't.
His world was falling apart.
He had lost them all in Sabaody. He believed he was strong, he believed he could overcome anything with enough courage, with enough confidence. If he had them by his side, he could overcome anything that came his way. He would fight for his dream, for the dreams of his friends, for the dreams of the people he met along the way.
He would do everything possible to put a smile on their faces.
So why were they determined to take his smile away? Why did they make them disappear before his eyes? Why did they let him smile broadly when he saved his brother, only to force him to hold him in his arms as he whispered his last words? Why did they have to kill Ace? Why?
Luffy was devastated. Those who were present when he awoke heard his cries of agony in the jungle. His pleas for Ace. His questions about his whereabouts.
He banged his body against the trees. His head against the rocks. He cried uncontrollably, asking, begging, pleading. A soft "thank you for loving me" repeated over and over in his mind, breaking him as he hugged himself.
It was Jinbe who pulled him out of the constant spiral his thoughts were caught up in. The doubts that gnawed at him were stagnating. Luffy wanted to be strong. He wanted to be strong enough not to lose anyone else. He wanted to be strong enough to carry his brother's will with him so that one day he could look up at the sky and smile at him, showing him that he had succeeded. He had become the king of pirates.
The news of Whitebeard's and his commander's deaths spread around the world. It received positive reactions from those who feared them and had been harmed by them. Fear spread throughout the territories that had been protected by this powerful crew. But those who suffered the most were the small family who had raised and watched these brothers grow up in Foosha.
Holding the newspaper in your hands, you read and reread the news. Just like everyone else in the crew, you wanted to be by his side. You could feel where he was. The sea whispered it to you, and you were impulsive. You never measured your actions. You never said enough to yourself. So you stole a small boat on that desolate island where you had ended up after their separation in Sabaody.
You let the sea guide you without a log pose, leading you to your captain. After a few days, you ignored the new newspaper announcing that Luffy had returned to the scene of the tragedy. Two years. You would all be reunited in two years. But you couldn't not go to his side.
You wanted to give him something to hold on to. Something that would give him calm and strength while everyone waited for their reunion.
The sea beasts cleared your path and escorted you somewhere. It took you three days to reach a jungle island. You got off your boat, nervously smoothing your white shirt. You trusted the sea. It wouldn't be wrong. But if Luffy was in this place, how would you get to him without being killed by one of those beasts growling in the distance? Sanji had taught you a few kicks, and your captain a few punches, but you were still weak.
This island was covered in vegetation. The trees stood proudly, as tall as if they were competing with each other to be the first to reach the sunlight. The plants with strange leaves were striking, to the point that something in your mind told you not to touch them. And in the distance, threatening to erupt, you could see three volcanoes.
You entered the jungle, startled by the sound of quick, heavy footsteps running towards you. You looked to your side and your scream echoed through the trees.
A larger-than-normal tiger was approaching you, baring fangs as long as your arm. You froze in fear, falling to the grass as you closed your eyes when it lunged to bite.
"Young lady? I don't know how you got here, but this is no place for beautiful girls."
You opened your eyes when death did not come, and instead there was an elderly man adjusting his glasses in front of you, smiling sideways. The tiger lay between you both, unconscious.
"Old man Rayleigh! Where are you?"
The speed with which you stood up impressed the man in front of you, whose name was Rayleigh. Rayleigh? You looked at him again. He closed his eyes, a gentle smile on his face, crossing his arms. You had read about him. You had read everything about the pirate king and his crew.
"Huh? Y/N?" You looked behind the dark king and there he was. Your captain, completely bandaged, looking at you in surprise. "Y/N!"
His movements were, all in all, normal. He didn't use his powers as he ran towards you and wrapped you in his arms. He seemed to be careful with his body, and he certainly needed to be.
"What are you doing here? How did you get here? How are the others? We were supposed to meet in two years!" His excited voice as he pulled your body close to his using what little strength he had devastated you.
You hugged him back, careful not to disturb any areas where the injury was more severe. You felt a slight tremor in his body as he asked a thousand questions, not giving you time to answer.
Rayleigh watched the two of you thoughtfully, Jinbe joining him at his side, having felt a sudden calling.
"I came by boat." You whispered.
"The little boat? That's dangerous." Said Luffy.
"Young lady, you crossed the Calm Belt and overcame all those sea beasts in a simple boat? You must be very strong." Rayleigh inquired.
"It's not that." Jinbe wanted to say, but the words reached no one but you in your mind.
Your eyes quickly found him, and he smiled at you.
"Oi, Y/N, Y/N, are you going to stay?" Luffy asked with a huge smile, capturing your full attention.
"No. I'd be interrupting whatever is going on here."
"You need to train, you're still weak." He teased.
"I'm not!" You complained.
But you were. The right-hand man of the Pirate King and the first son of the sea smiled amusedly. One, knowing the whole story. And the other, having grown up with a legend.
The sun and the sea belonged to each other. And the sun and the sea were unknowingly facing each other.
"If you don't mind, I have a proposal for you, miss Y/N." Said the gyojin.
Luffy and you stopped arguing and looked at him.
"I would like to train you in gyojin karate."
"Gyojin karate? I'm bad with my fists." You muttered, embarrassed.
"That would be great, Jinbe!" Said Luffy, picking his nose. "But doesn't it only work with gyojin? Will she turn into a mermaid?"
"She'll make it work better than anyone else." Said Rayleigh, walking towards a campfire. "I'll give you a month to talk and for Luffy to recover. Then you'll leave with Jinbe. Is that alright with both of you?"
Luffy nodded, dragging you by the hand towards the campfire.
In a month, he and you grew closer. You discovered all kinds of beetles, a hobby of his that you loved. You made them fight, betting on which one would win, groaning in frustration when you lost. You could never beat him when he had the advantage of knowledge over you.
You fought over the food Rayleigh hunted, receiving teasing from the adult who quickly grew fond of you. In his eyes, you were a sweet girl who needed to bring out that hidden strength. Jinbe only scolded Luffy when he bit your hand before you could take some meat.
It caught your attention how in the mornings your captain was a cheerful boy, giving a huge smile to anyone, but at night he would break down. You slept separately. Rayleigh used to cover him with his cape, and Jinbe covered you with his. But when no one was looking, when they went to the island's shore to talk in private, Luffy would move.
He sought refuge in your arms. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't ask questions. He didn't speak. All you felt were his bandaged arms wrapped around your waist and his face against your chest. If tears wet your shirt and silent sobs shook his body, you said nothing. You stroked his hair silently until he fell asleep, and only after making sure he was, did you sleep yourself.
It was the morning after a nightmare woke him up that you made your decision.
You had done this three or four times in your life. You weren't sure you could do it, but that was the only reason you had visited Rusukaina.
On the shore, you took off your sandals and put your feet in the water. The weakness of seawater, which must bother all users of the devil's fruit, never bothered you. When they said it was an anomaly, this was why.
You stretched your hand out over the water and it rose just ten centimetres. You clenched it into a fist and opened it again. Fifteen centimetres. You closed it again and the water fell, splashing as it formed a puddle. A puddle in the sea. The water was mirrored, confirming your success.
"How can you be there if you ate a devil fruit?"
You looked up, frightened.
Luffy looked at you confused, his head tilted to one side and his lips pursed.
"You didn't eat one then?"
"Luffy..."
"I saw you lift the water."
"It must have been your imagination." You said, smiling nervously.
"No. Earlier on the Sunny Go, I saw you attract the fish. I thought it was Camie, but Camie doesn't eat her friends."
You remained silent.
"It must be great to be able to swim with a devil fruit!" He laughed as he approached you. "What were you doing with the water? Something like fium and splash!"
You scratched the back of your neck while the bandaged boy moved his hands in exaggerated movements. That was just how he was. And you were becoming more attached to him than usual. The way he explained things with the sounds they made made you smile.
"If I tell you, it will be a secret between us."
"Are you going to show me your treasure?" He asked, his eyes sparkling.
"Something like that."
You took his hand, pulling him close to you. You both looked out at the puddle in the sea, so much like a mirror.
With the end of the month and the promise to meet again in two years, you parted ways. The truth about your devil fruit was kept by your captain, who smiled happily at learning more about you. Happy at how little by little you were opening up to them. To him.
He begged you for different tricks with water, bursting into laughter when the sea water weakened him. He understood why Jinbe had to be the one to train you, eager to know how strong you would be in two years. He was saddened when, at night, he no longer had your warmth by his side and your caresses on his hair to soothe his pain and trauma.
But he took refuge in your gift.
That puddle you had created in the sea was trapped in a seashell. You had taught him how to take the enchanted water out and put it back in, with no limit on its use.
He believed it was the best thing in the world after his hat, his brothers, and his crew.
His lonely nights were filled with laughter by the sea. Laughter that had previously only existed in his memories, but which he could now hear and see. The puddle formed mirages, reflecting his memories.
He saw Ace. He saw Sabo. He saw the three of them running through Mount Colubo. Hunting, playing, fighting. He cried at everything he witnessed. Just hearing his brothers being happy, Sabo counting the points in their training sessions, Ace teasing him for being weak, his taunts at seeing his older brother embarrassed when receiving compliments from Makino. It all made his heart ache.
The two years passed more quickly than the crew had expected. The strength they had all gained, their new skills and their new appearances were something to be appreciated.
Your training with Jinbe on a remote island in order to hide your identity had been laborious. You were good at gyojin karate. Your devil fruit responded to you with ease now. You could defend yourself and attack without relying on others, but the adult had told you that you still had a long way to go. The Hito Hito no Mi would not stop there. You still had to awaken it. You still had to learn more with it, without limiting yourself. You could do anything you could imagine with enough determination.
You smiled amusedly when you saw Nami sitting at the bar, drinking alone. You approached her from behind, hugging her and whispering in her ear.
"Are you free tonight?"
The woman, now with long hair, shuddered when she recognised the voice and turned around with a smile.
"Y/N!" Her arms wrapped around you in a big hug. "It's been so long! You look amazing!"
"You look beautiful, Nami." You said, sitting down next to her with a smile.
"Ladies, would you like me to buy you a drink?"
You both turned towards the voice with disinterest, your expressions instantly changing when you recognised it. Usopp was smiling, looking more confident than ever. Nami and you rushed to hug him, starting to talk about everything the three of you had done in those two years. You talked a little about your training, saying that you were now good at karate, proud of your attacks.
As the minutes passed, you met up with the others again.
The Sunny Go was still in the same place you left it, without a single scratch. Seeing most of the crew filled your heart with joy. Those people who had welcomed you with open arms two years ago were finally in front of you again.
Franky whistled and complimented the beautiful women in front of him. His appearance had changed a lot since the past, but he was approached by Usopp, who looked at him excitedly and asked all sorts of questions. Chopper, wearing a new hat and looking cuter than ever, jumped around and hugged Robin excitedly. He had missed everyone dearly. Robin, more beautiful than ever with her long hair, talked about her days with the Revolutionary Army.
Everyone looked healthy, but above all, they looked happy. Happy to be back where they belonged.
But someone was missing.
And just thinking about seeing him again made your heart race wildly inside your chest, wanting to escape.
"I can't wait to see how much Luffy has changed since last time!" Usopp exclaimed with a smile from ear to ear. "I'm so excited to see him!"
"Me too." Said Robin.
You nodded silently, smiling fondly. When the assumption was made that he might have gotten himself into trouble, Chopper offered to go find the three remaining members. The moment the little one left, an irreplaceable presence fell from above.
Brook had left behind his life as a world-renowned musician to return to his beloved friends. They all welcomed him with smiles.
"And I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful…" Commented the skeleton, looking at the three women. "Well… Two years have passed."
He sat down on a barrel and a few strings of his guitar resonated in the air.
"Would you all be so kind and show me your panties?"
"No way!"
Nami kicked him away, while Robin and you laughed.
"Oi! Guys!"
You looked up just as his voice reached your ears. Your big smile matched those of the others, but the sparkle in your eyes hid the longing in your heart, those feelings that had blossomed when you spent a month together, completely alone, sleeping in each other's arms every night. Those feelings you tried to fight, repeating in your mind like a mantra that they would pass if you didn't see him, breaking down when you dreamed of his smile or when you thought of his reaction to seeing you again.
You stayed behind the others with a sudden blush on your cheeks.
You had never seen him without his multiple bandages. And now there he was, stepping onto the deck of the Sunny Go while greeting everyone, wearing an open red shirt that revealed that huge scar.
Luffy had gained muscle. He looked stronger. More confident. And yet, you could see that he was the same as always, that his strength and confidence were centred on the people around him.
The rubber boy looked for you, smiling when he saw you.
Neither of you spoke, at least not out loud, pretending that nothing had happened between you.
The journey to Fishman Island had been quite an adventure. Seeing the underwater world left you speechless. Holding onto the railing, you admired the different schools of fish that surrounded the ship from time to time, circling twice before swimming away. You wanted to reach out and feel them against your skin, but that would have exposed you. The sea water did not weaken you, and the crew knew you had an “unused” devil fruit.
"I think they're greeting you." You looked to your side, to that warm presence.
Luffy was looking at a school of pink fish that had come up to your face to look at you from the other side of the bubble.
"Yes?" You said, amused.
"We could eat them."
"Don't even think about it." You scolded him.
"But you're not a mermaid!"
"But they talk to me. They're friends."
"Friends aren't for eating." He muttered, pressing his lips together.
You giggled admiringly at the little pout he made as his stomach growled. That soft sound from you disturbed the sea animals around the Sunny Go, who were happily swirling around.
"Are there always so many fish? How cool!" Said Usopp, standing next to you.
You snuggled up to Luffy a little, pretending not to know anything. Luffy moved his mouth into a pout to one side, also pretending not to know.
"You're bad at lying." You whispered.
"I'm not." He whispered back.
You laughed, leaving him with Usopp.
Fishman Island was a dreamlike place. Your devil fruit seemed comfortable there, and the mermaids and gyojin looked at you excitedly.
The powerful goddess of the sea, Naia, stood before them.
The legend told for generations spoke of how she was always accompanied by a man. A clingy man who never left her side. A playful man who always made her laugh. A selfish man who never refrained from looking at her with love and wanting her for himself.
That man was the sun god.
They said that when they separated, the goddess cried so much that her tears disturbed the sea. The catastrophe caused by the forced breakup of their love made her sleep for centuries. And at some point, when the sun rose again, she would wake up.
Mothers and children never stopped talking about how they, the inhabitants of Fishman Island, would be the first to recognise her. After all, Naia was a kind of mother to that race.
Everyone wondered who the man accompanying you would be.
Nami and Robin watched amused as the little mermen, mermaids, and gyojin children clung to you shamelessly, asking you to play with them. You had no idea how to refuse. Throughout the banquet, you were here and there, performing water tricks hidden from your crew, entertaining the little ones who were excited by the slightest thing you did.
Jinbe, happy to see your progress and how you were doing in the water, smiled as he drank his sake.
Everyone was having a good time. Everyone except for a rubber boy who occasionally remembered that you weren't by his side and, capriciously, pouted. He calmed down again when they gave him meat, enjoying the party.
You sat down next to him, exhausted. You didn't know what other tricks to do for those children. You took a sip of sake, on the verge of spitting it out when another gyojin child came up in front of you.
"Oi, kids, she's mine for now." Said Luffy, frowning and taking a bite of meat.
You blushed, trying to drink the sake faster. Robin raised an eyebrow at his words, giving the orange-haired woman beside her an inquiring look. They both knew how possessive the rubber boy could be. His hat and his friends were equally important to him. But that phrase… That tone was different.
The impact his words could have on one's life or day was foreign to Luffy. Noticing that what he unconsciously said brought a revolution was not something he cared about.
He continued as if nothing had happened.
And so, his normal behaviour over the following days came as no surprise to anyone. The navigator and the archaeologist watched you both closely, knowing that there was something else going on between you.
Even though your captain sat next to you at breakfast, fighting with you over the portions you hadn't eaten yet (something he would do with anyone), there was something strange about it. The natural way you would slap his hand and growl at him. The way he would bite your hand hard, making you cry out. They did not remember the two of you being so close before Sabaody, two years ago.
You had not had time to develop such a friendship.
And it did not seem like a simple friendship.
One night, when you hadn't yet come to your room to sleep with them, they talked.
"Seriously, if those two are a couple and they didn't tell us..." Whispered Nami.
"I don't think they are. In fact, I think that's where they're headed." Robin refuted.
"If Luffy feels something for her, he won't notice." Growled the navigator, burying her face in her pillow.
The black-haired woman smiled as she sat on her own bed.
"We just have to give them time." She murmured.
"We have to keep an eye on them."
"Without interfering." Robin concluded.
Island after island you visited in the future, day after day that passed, both women decided to give you privacy, paying attention only during dinners. As if reviewing the day, looking for some sign of progress.
It was amid the heat of the flames and the volcanoes about to erupt in Punk Hazard that Robin noticed the first detail: Luffy talked to you like he didn't talk to anyone else.
The heat was unbearable, you could barely stand that kind of hell, ignoring that your captain now looked like a centaur and shouted excitedly that he liked having four legs. If you looked closer, you noticed that the ones at the back, which had just been attached, were barely working. They flew through the air because Luffy's legs did all the work.
You wiped the sweat from your forehead for the fourth time when the smiling boy approached you. He leaned over to you, whispering in your ear.
"Why don't you make something like a sphere of water and hydrate yourself?"
"I can't. There's no source of water nearby." You whispered.
"Your sweat."
You parted your lips, not believing what he had said. Use your sweat? And why was he looking at you like that? With his brow slightly furrowed, as if he had said the most serious, intelligent and obvious thing in the world. You smiled amusedly, patting his shoulder.
Robin noticed it again when all of you arrived on the other side of the lake, where the island became wintry. The small group was shivering from the cold, freezing after falling into the water. The archaeologist sighed as she felt her body warm up, turning to check that everyone was okay, raising her eyebrows briefly in surprise.
Her captain was wrapping a coat around your body, as if it were a practised movement. Neither of you knew that Luffy had actually watched others do this and wanted to try it himself.
Because that's what people who loved someone else did, right? Give them a coat so they would never be cold. Rayleigh had done it for him when they trained together. Hancock had lent him hers to get to Sabaody.
In his mind, if you cared about someone, you should give them a coat.
Although he knew very well why he only wanted to give it to you.
During the banquet, when you walked away to comfort Chopper, who was frightened by Trafalgar Law, the two women sat down to exchange information. Nami hadn't seen anything unusual, so she was surprised to hear about her captain's actions towards you.
The navigator became frustrated when she couldn't stay in Dressrosa, feeling like she was missing out on everything. Robin promised to keep her informed when they met again.
And so she did.
You had signed up with him for the coliseum tournament, wearing one of the many gladiator outfits. Luckily, you had been placed in a different block from Luffy, saving you from a difficult fate. It wasn't time for your competition yet when Zoro came looking for the two of you.
The urgency with which you began searching for the exit made you anxious. Outside, it would soon be chaos, but the thought of Luffy abandoning one of the few physical reminders he had of his brother made your heart ache. You wished you could get it for him, but he had forbidden you to do so. If he left, you would go with him.
You stopped in your tracks for a few seconds when you realised there was nowhere to escape. Encountering Bartolomeo and Bellamy only confirmed your suspicions. It was all a trap and you were trapped in the coliseum, only he knew the way out.
"Luffy senpai, what will happen to the Mera Mera no Mi?" Asked the green-haired man, staring at the wall.
"The lives of my comrades are more important."
You bit your lower lip. A physical reminder of Ace that he couldn't have. A physical reminder that would give him a glimpse of his time in the world, something that would show him that he was there. You could stay in the coliseum without any problems. Win it, take it away in its chest, keep it safe, and run away with it until you could give it to Luffy...
Luffy tugged on your little finger without looking at you to pull you out of your thoughts. Bartolomeo talked non-stop, still facing the wall, about how he had always planned to win it for him. Because he admired him. He admired the whole crew and would do anything for any of you, but especially for the young man next to you.
You turned to look back when approaching footsteps interrupted you. You frowned at the man. He was dressed like a noble would be. And he wore a custom hat.
"I won't let you keep the Mera Mera no Mi, Straw Hat Luffy."
"What are you talking about, idiot?" Bartolomeo growled, walking towards him. "I don't know who you think you are, but to you he is Luffy senpai. Respect him!"
The green-haired man continued talking, trying to intimidate him, but that man was not fazed. He was calm, not taking his eyes off the boy you loved. You began to frown.
"I've known all that for a long time." Said the man, pushing Bartolomeo away.
You stood in front of Luffy, trying to protect him when he started to approach. Your right hand took a familiar gyojin karate stance, and something in the blond's gaze seemed to sparkle in recognition. The rubber boy stood in front of you again, hating that you were protecting him.
But what happened next was something neither of you were prepared for. You stepped aside, your lower lip trembling, unable to interrupt them.
You could only watch your rubber boy crying as he hugged him. His sobs were loud, letting out more than he had allowed himself to do at your side. He apologised. He repeated to the blond that everything was fine and that he shouldn't apologise. The older one thanked him for staying alive.
And you were broken, thanking whoever for this joy in his life.
Living two years of his life believing that he had lost his two older brothers must have been the greatest torture.
In Zou, despite the situation they had to face in Big Mom's territory, Nami and Robin made a space for themselves.
"So, his brother is the second in command of the Revolutionary Army?" The navigator whispered.
Robin nodded. She had kept that secret for two years.
"Sabo noticed something too."
"What?"
"I don't know what happened between the three of them, but when Luffy and Y/N were sleeping after the battle..."
"Separately?" Whispered Nami.
"Yes and no. Luffy was in bed and Y/N was holding his hand, sitting on the floor."
The navigator nodded thoughtfully, waiting for her to continue.
"Sabo said he liked his little brother's girlfriend."
Nami's eyes widened in surprise.
As if Zoro and Franky hadn't heard the revolutionary's conversation too. Now you had two more pairs of eyes watching you from afar.
As night fell, you yawned relaxed in bed. You couldn't be at peace for long. Your stomach churned at the thought of Luffy going to the territory of a yonko without you. It calmed you to think that the friends he was going with were good and trustworthy. Bringing Sanji back was essential.
You couldn't imagine your days without him in the kitchen, occupying every corner and filling the room with his twists and compliments.
The blanket was lifted carefully and arms wrapped around your waist.
"Luffy?" You whispered.
"Mhm."
Your heart skipped a beat. Should you put one hand on his hair and the other on his back like you used to? Should you tell him to go back to his room? To his bed? And not feel his warmth. Not feel his heartbeat. Not comfort him in silence. Since you saw each other again, you hadn't slept together.
"Y/N?" He whispered, resting his chin on your chest. "You must stroke my hair."
His demanding tone, trapped in a pout, made you giggle. He relaxed under your touch. He hadn’t wanted to bother you when you saw each other again, but he had missed this. Your fingers in his hair, the gentle circles traced on his back, waking up without you leaving him.
You had stolen his heart in a month, and he wasn't doing anything about it.
"Sorry." He murmured, his cheek resting on your chest. His tone didn't seem to regret whatever he was regretting in the slightest.
"Why are you apologising?"
"I gave Sabo your gift. The seashell." He whispered without looking at you. "I thought he would need it more than I did."
You smiled, resisting the urge to kiss his forehead.
"It’s okay. I can make you another one if you want."
Luffy didn't say what he was thinking. He knew you would make those magical pools for him if he asked, without needing a seashell. Next time, he wanted to show you everything he had to show.
But that would have to wait.
Wano was unlike anything you had ever seen before.
The suffering of the people in this village made your blood boil. Poor people had nothing to eat, and their water was contaminated. Seeing them live dehydrated, with sick children and rumbling stomachs, pushed you to your limit.
Hiding your identity would be difficult in this country. They needed you, so you allowed yourself to do something in secret. The gentle touch of your hands began to purify the water of the river of Ebisu, the pollution seeping into your bones. You didn't mention it to anyone, it was an experiment. You wanted to know your limits.
The flowing water was clean, perfect for the children, elderly and adults in the area. It was the little you could do while enduring the pollution. You had to find a way to expel it from within you without causing havoc. Throwing it away and contaminating plants, the land for future crops or the sea itself disgusted you.
But maybe, enduring it was your mistake.
Perhaps if you had gone against your principles and stopped trusting Luffy's words, those that promised to save this country, you would not be suffering now. But it was impossible for you not to do so. It was impossible for you not to trust him. You knew he would succeed, because he never lied. He worked hard for what he set out to do.
He was like sunshine in the lives of those who knew him.
You tolerated the contamination in your bones during the battles in Onigashima, but weeks had passed since you received it and your body began to take its toll at the worst possible moment.
You could only hear Nami and Usopp's screams when you stood in front of them. The three of you had a little girl with you. Otama was Luffy's adoration, and putting her in danger was something you would never forgive yourself for. The powers of your devil fruit did not respond in time to counter the threatening attack of the yonko Big Mom, an attack that was aimed at your friends.
The "heavenly fire" struck your body, its impact propelling it and slamming it against the walls. That homie, Prometheus, pushed your body wall to wall, breaking them one by one as if he were on a mission. As if he wanted to kill someone from the straw hat crew.
You spat out a little blood when the fire became more intense. It was burning your torso and arms. If you moved your fingers slightly, you didn't have the strength to call on the sea water, nor to send Prometheus backwards.
A song reached your ears. You opened your eyes slightly, meeting the gaze of the homie, so threatening and sinister. You smiled slightly, knowing you would be safe.
That soft intonation, almost as if a mother were tucking her beloved child into bed, could not be heard by anyone else present on Onigashima. Naia's song was exclusively for you, only heard on special occasions. The first time you heard it, you consumed her fruit. And this time, everything was a mystery.
"Y/N!"
Was that cry from Usopp or Nami? You couldn't see them. You could only watch Prometheus rage at your smile.
A gasp escaped from within you as the force of his attack tripled. The other homies joined him, Hera and Napoleon, carrying you through the hard rock wall.
A beep stunned your ears.
Your body fell from a height impossible to calculate. The abyss drew you into its darkness, and you could do nothing but embrace it.
The severity of your injuries left you with no strength to scream. To call for help. To call out to anyone.
Luffy, your friends, the people of Wano who trusted you. Was this your end? Was this Naia's will, for which you had been expelled from your native island? Did you really have to die like this?
The water engulfed you as you hit hard, sinking you to the depths.
"Announcement to all of Onigashima!"
Bao Huang's shout echoed in every corner. The fighting didn't stop, but everyone was paying attention. Something had changed.
"A member of the straw hat crew has been defeated!"
Usopp growled, wiping away his tears in despair. He felt useless. He should have taken the attack, not let you cover him. He couldn't do anything because of the fear. He couldn't do anything to stop you from falling. Nami hugged Otama, sobbing hard, apologising to Luffy over and over again even though her captain wasn't in front of them. How could she explain to him that she let the woman he loved be killed right in front of his eyes? Everyone's friend? Another straw hat.
"Y/N has been killed by Big Mom-sama!"
At different points on Onigashima, the crew was moved. Different reactions crossed their faces. Anger, sadness, regret. Some, like Chopper and Brook, shouted through their tears that you couldn't have died. That Bao Huang was lying. Others, like Zoro and Sanji, silently continued to fight. You were just as stubborn as Luffy, whatever had happened to you, you wouldn't stop there. Jinbe stopped dead in his tracks as Robin hugged Chopper, looking for something to hold on to before her thoughts consumed her mind.
Luffy's heart scratched at his chest as he was forced to hold back.
He wanted to run to the edge of the terrace. He wanted to look down. He felt the need for his longing to become one with the sea despite his inability to swim. And he felt you. The soft beating of your heart, how weak your pulse was, and how calm the waves were. Could you drown if you were the sea itself? Could your wounds condemn your soul to an irreversible fate?
He clenched his fists, unflinching. One mistake, one moment of weakness, would end everyone's life.
For some strange reason, the news from Bao Huang did not affect him like it did the others, who were crying incessantly.
Luffy trusted you, even when his observation haki could no longer sense your heartbeat.
You had spent a month together. You had slept together. You had shared and fought over food. You had cared for his mind and his nightmares without him asking. You had listened to his whole story and his dreams, while opening up about yours only to him. You had been one of the reasons he was standing there today, fighting.
He trusted you. He trusted that you would be okay.
If your origin was the sea, then you would return to it. And the sea would do its thing to bring you back.
Because you belonged by his side, in a silent agreement that neither of you would break.
In the depths, hundreds of fish and sea creatures surrounded your lifeless body, giving you space, shy to be near their goddess. Your outstretched arms allowed them to see you. The burns on your torso and neck continued to bleed, despite the water's attempts to soothe them. The pollution tolerated for weeks drained away little by little, oozing from your body until it gathered into a sphere.
"Nika, you've got yours!"
"Oi, Luffy! That's my food!"
The voices, clearly reproachful, echoed among those present under the sea.
"Naia! Come jump!"
"Y/N, let's play something!"
A heartbeat.
"Nika, stop moving, you're annoying."
"Luffy, I can't sleep if you move around so much. Go to your bed."
Another heartbeat.
"Naia is mean."
"Y/N is mean, she wouldn't let me eat her food."
Fire ravaged Onigashima. Everyone began to gather in one place, desperately searching for a solution. The captain of the straw hat pirates continued to fight Kaido, filling the atmosphere with anxiety. No member of the alliance wanted to hear any more bad news.
"Even if Straw Hat-ya wins, we'll all die in the fire." Said the captain of the heart pirates. "We have to find a way to put it out."
Nami took a few steps towards the centre, standing next to Marco as some surfaces began to give way.
The sudden tremor in the floor frightened everyone. Several fell to the floor, breathing heavily amid the flames and two powerful presences fighting on the terrace. The navigator held Otama tightly in front of her.
"An earthquake? How is that possible up here?" She said, confused.
"This isn't normal. Something's happening." Robin drew some minks towards the centre with her powers.
"Is Straw Hat provoking it?" Kid growled.
"No..." Law said. "He's still fighting Kaido."
"I sense another presence-yoi."
"It’s not Luffy or Kaido? What’s going on? Robin!" Chopper hugged the archaeologist, crying.
"There’s something in the sea!"
The scream of one of the beast pirates alarmed their opponents, with Law being the first to look into the hole you had made in the wall before dying. His crew had been on the Polar Tang at the moment you fell, but according to their reports, it was impossible to reach your body. A blue sphere surrounded you and the sea beasts threatened to attack them. They could have killed his friends, but something was holding them back. The waves battered his submarine, sending it away every time it approached where you were supposed to be.
One by one, they took clumsy steps to look through the hole, at a considerable distance, afraid of falling. Most of the straw hats did not want to see what was left after your death. The pain in their hearts could not be revealed, and their tears could not be shed. Not until it was all over.
The waves crashed into each other with fury, their directions unnatural. Not even the weather in the New World could explain something like that. Nami left Otama next to a sleeping Zoro, holding onto the wall to get a closer look.
"The water is receding." She whispered. "Everyone, stay in the centre!"
"Oi, oi, Nami, the waves can't reach up here, why are you worried?" Asked Usopp.
"Because of that thing that's taking shape."
The metres receded by the sea rose up in a wave. A wave almost two thousand metres high, immovable. And in its centre, there was a figure. A woman created from water, rivalling a giant in size.
"We won't get out of here alive." Cried Usopp.
"Robin-chan, Nami-swan, I'll protect you."
"Sanji! Me too!" Chopper whimpered.
"She looks like..." Law whispered.
"That's Y/N!" Jinbe shouted.
The entire crew's eyes widened before they began screaming and crying.
"Monster!" Usopp exclaimed upon seeing the figure.
"What is that thing, it's scary!" Nami cried.
"Y/N-chan had that kind of power all along?" Sanji shouted, leaning further out of the hole.
"I'm glad she's alive, yohoho!"
"It's a super miracle!" Franky sobbed.
"What a peculiar shape..." Robin murmured thoughtfully. "Do you know anything about it, Jinbe-san?"
The gyojin smiled broadly.
Naia had returned.
"I would recommend everyone stand in the centre and hold each other. Y/N is going to do something."
You cupped the water in your hands. Just as you had practised for two years, you had no reason to be nervous. Your body felt healthy and light as you became the sea itself. The burns would still be there once you broke this form, but now it was enough. Jinbe had trained you relentlessly so that you could achieve his hikishio ipponzeoi.
You prepared your attack and, without hesitation, half the sea was thrown towards Onigashima.
The flood was unprecedented.
The fire was completely extinguished. The devil fruit users weakened. The few gyojin who were there saved everyone from being swept away by the waves. Nami carried Otama, Usopp saved Robin, Sanji held Zoro, Franky grabbed Brook, and Jinbe put Chopper on his shoulder. Everyone in the crew smiled as they looked out to sea, where your figure stood in all its grandeur and splendour. To say they were surprised would be an understatement. They had so much to ask you. Two wanted to apologise for everything you had been through. A certain swordsman would seek you out to train when he woke up and heard the news. The archaeologist wanted to know everything about your devil fruit and its rarity.
You were something that transcended the unnatural.
"Shishishi!"
You looked up at the island's roof. Luffy, in a strange white form, floated in the air, reclining with his arms behind his head. His beautiful pink eyes looked at you fondly. And amid all that radiant happiness, you could see tears threatening to escape.
"Thank you for coming back, Y/N."
The land of Wano made headlines worldwide. The bounty posters were updated. The crew now belonged to a yonko, straw hat Luffy.
It made you happy to see how he was getting closer and closer to fulfilling his dream. And, in turn, how you were now one of the members with the highest bounty.
You held the poster in front of your face, grimacing from time to time as you felt Chopper's hooves on your burns, applying an ointment that he claimed was excellent. You would be left with scars on your neck and chest, but you couldn't dream of leaving that country without a scratch. You didn't regret defending your friends.
Although Nami and Usopp never left your side, the sniper crying and hugging you every time you passed by him, and the navigator offering you berries (something she wouldn't normally do with anyone) and multiple strokes on your hair.
You paid attention to your photo on the poster. It was you, from head to toe, every little detail, every tiny imperfection, but all loved by the sea. The sea goddess you had awakened had been captured and everyone admired her. For some she was terrifying, for others magical.
You smiled dumbly. You couldn't always use such a powerful attack, but being immortalised like this was nice. You traced the numbers with your index finger, curious about the insane sum.
Why was your head suddenly worth 1,000,000,000 berries? You had only died, come back to life, and extinguished the fire on Onigashima. Perhaps you had also purified all the water in Wano, and Trafalgar Law had used his devil fruit to remove the pollution from inside you. But that was not something others could know.
You never got a straight answer to that.
Egghead was about to be a disaster. CP0 was on the island with clear instructions. Your boots echoed on the floor as you stepped aside to wait for Luffy. You were supposed to take him back to Labophase, but he was more interested in facing an old enemy he had encountered again.
You looked up, entranced. His Gear 5 was mind-blowing. Everything he could do with his devil fruit, the ease with which his brain came up with new ideas, it all made you laugh. Not to mention the floor, which now made you bounce.
Vegapunk hurried over to the monitors.
"Have the white and blue warriors appeared yet?" He asked, his eyes shining as he caught sight of Luffy laughing. "Tell me about those transformations. The white one from Straw Hat and the young girl on her wanted poster."
"We don't know, to be honest." Said Nami. "Luffy's is the Gomu Gomu no Mi, but Y/N's is unknown to us."
The scientist pressed his lips together, holding back a smile.
"There is no fruit with that name in the devil fruit encyclopaedia!"
The crew gasped, unable to comprehend.
"What? That's impossible!" Exclaimed the navigator.
"Luffy always says gomu gomu when he attacks." Added Usopp.
"Look how beautiful he is! I'm sure she is too!" Rambled Vegapunk, raising his hands. "It's fate! I didn't expect to meet them like this."
"If you know anything, tell us. Y/N-chan doesn't talk much about herself." Sanji requested.
"What happened to those two?" Franky asked, approaching the screen to look at the two of you.
Luffy was still floating there laughing, and you looked at him with a sparkle in your eyes.
"They look like gods."
The cook choked on his own words, unable to believe it.
"Luffy a god? He's an idiot!" He shouted. "Y/N-chan is a goddess, that's true."
Robin looked at Vegapunk in surprise.
"Are you saying that those appearances we saw are those of gods?"
"Yes." Said the scientist, his expression turning serious. "The warrior of liberation. He who plays the fool and brings smiles to all. The sun god, Nika!"
The few crew members present were surprised. The answers that no one else could give them were in the brain of this man who stared at the screen excitedly. Eager to talk. Eager to educate the world.
"And the goddess he loves, the one capable of punishing everyone for him. The goddess of the sea, Naia."
Nami shook her head, approaching Vegapunk.
"Nika and Naia? I've never heard those names."
"Of course not. Their names were erased from history." The scientist said abruptly. "Nika and Naia were inseparable."
The revealed legend left them speechless. In the end, the archaeologist was right.
It was best not to interfere.
The sun god felt a deep longing for the sea. Seeing it every day made him feel free, and he wanted to reach it more than anything else. Then, one day, he met its goddess. He thought she would help him help. If he could make people laugh, then she could give them freedom.
Naia was closed off, only willing to care for those she loved: the gyojin, the mermaids, the mermen. Opening the doors of her heart to let Nika in went against her principles. He knew how to make her laugh effortlessly with a joke or a silly expression. He fought with her over food, hitting him every time he wanted to eat a fish. He invited her to have fun jumping with his friends. He asked her to do water tricks for him.
Falling in love with each other was natural. Nika always admired her foolishly, his gaze never leaving her. He loved her loudly with his actions. He loved her silently with his words.
Naia always looked up, because he loved to float. He shone in a way that only he could. Her love was protective, ensuring that he never lost his smile. That he never shed a single tear.
For him, she was freedom. And for her, he was.
Someone feared their powers together, the ease with which people became attached to and trusted them, asking them for things they could give them. So, under false pretences, he murdered the sun god.
The two lovers agreed to meet again when destiny required it. When the time came. First, Nika would return, accompanied by a man who shared his ideals of freedom. Then, Naia would notice him. Her living love.
That devil fruit that had eluded the world government for centuries, and that devil fruit that was believed to be non-existent, would wait to be reincarnated.
Nika would choose who would bring a new dawn to the world, and Naia would take into her sweet arms the one who would support him on his journey. A mystical love, a destined love. Unconsciously, their successors would love each other just as they had.
Because their souls resonated. Their souls yearned for each other. Their souls waited.
And that statue that had been looking —alone, hidden from everyone with its arms outstretched— at the sun for centuries, would finally be able to feel his skin under her fingers once again.
Hello! I'm putting my main fic on hold cause I just got this amazing idea. I was sick and a friend of mine was rubbing vinegar on my back (eastern european treatment among the elders, it's good for fever). So then I thought, what if the reader gets sick and Chopper cannot rub her with his little hooves? Nice right? Anyway, please enjoy the one-shot!
Promt: The reader is sick, and someone needs to take good care of her. Warnings: Mild inappropriate thoughts but nothing dirty. Enjoy!
The infirmary of the Thousand Sunny was usually a sanctuary of sterile calm. It smelled of rubbing alcohol, cotton bandages, and the faint, earthy aroma of Chopper’s dried herbs hanging from the ceiling.
Today, however, the infirmary smelled as if a pickle factory had collided with a vinegar distillery and exploded.
You were miserable. The flu had hit you like a King Cannon, turning your bones to aching lead and your brain to hot mush. As the ship’s chronicler and writer, you were accustomed to spending days inside your own head, weaving intricate plots and navigating complex character arcs. You treated your mind like a well-organized library. But right now, that library was on fire. Your thoughts were stuffed with burning cotton wool, and the simple act of blinking felt like a Herculean effort.
You lay on your stomach on the infirmary bed, buried under a thin sheet, shivering violently despite the heat radiating from your skin. You had stripped off your sweat-soaked shirt an hour ago in a desperate attempt to cool down, leaving your upper body completely exposed—a decision you were now beginning to regret as the air grew sharp with the sting of acetic acid.
"I know, I know, it smells unpleasant," Chopper said soothingly, his little hooves clacking rhythmically against a metal bowl. "But the standard fever reducers aren't working fast enough. Your temperature is spiking again. We have to try the traditional way."
"Traditional?" you croaked, your voice sounding like someone dragging a stone over gravel.
"Yes! The Doctorine rarely used it because she preferred... more aggressive methods," Chopper shuddered slightly at a memory. "But I’ve read that in certain older villages in the East Blue, a vigorous friction rub with raw vinegar is the ultimate cure. It draws the heat right out of the body and shocks the system into recovery!"
You groaned into your pillow, too weak to argue. You just wanted the room to stop spinning. "Whatever you say, Doc. Just make it stop."
"Okay, here we go." Chopper hesitated. You felt the mattress shift as he climbed up near your hip, then paused. He looked at his hoof, then at your burning, sensitive skin, and then back at his hoof. He frowned, his little blue nose twitching. "Oh no." A silence stretched out. "Oh... oh no."
You cracked one eye open, the light stinging. "What is it?"
"My hooves," Chopper wailed quietly, looking at his front paws with devastation. "In Brain Point, I don't have the leverage for the necessary friction. The movement needs to be broad and firm to generate heat. But in Heavy Point, I’m too strong! I’ll bruise you! My pads aren't right for this."
He looked at you with big, watery eyes.
"You need human hands, (y/n). Strong, dexterous, capable hands to really work the solution into your back and arms. Someone who knows about pressure and delicate handling."
As if summoned by the universe’s cruel sense of comedic timing, the infirmary door swung open with a cheerful creak.
"I’ve brought a special restorative ginger consommé for the patient~!" Sanji crooned, pirouetting into the room.
He balanced a steaming silver tray on one hand with impossible grace, his visible eye immediately morphing into a fluttering heart as he spotted your prone form beneath the sheet. The smell of rich broth and ginger momentarily battled the vinegar stench for dominance.
"(Y/n)-chwan! My poor, suffering muse! My literary flower! How is the patient feeling?"
Sanji stopped his twirling, preening slightly, smoothing his black suit jacket. "Well, I certainly try to be, little doctor. Does our beloved writer need her pillows fluffed? Perhaps a cold compress made of the finest silk? I could run to the galley and crush some ice into the shape of swans—"
"I need you to rub (Y/n) down with this vinegar," Chopper interrupted seriously, holding up the pungent bowl.
Sanji froze. The steam from the soup curled around his frozen smile. His brain, usually so quick with a witty retort or a romantic declaration, ground to a halt.
"Excuse me?" he whispered.
"I need someone with skilled hands," Chopper explained, completely oblivious to the storm brewing behind the cook's blonde bangs. "You handle delicate ingredients all the time! You know exactly how much pressure to apply to dough, or meat, or fish. I need you to massage this into her bare skin to break the fever."
Bare skin.
The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Sanji’s eye darted from the bowl of vinegar, to Chopper’s earnest face, and finally rested on you. You, lying under a single thin sheet. You, who he knew had been complaining of overheating earlier. You, who were likely wearing very little under that cotton covering.
Wait. The gears in Sanji's mind began to turn, slowly at first, then spinning wildly into overdrive. (Y/n)-chwan is currently lying on her stomach. To massage her back, the sheet must be lowered. If the sheet is lowered to the waist... and she isn't wearing a shirt...
A violent blush erupted from his collar, consuming his neck and face instantly.
Naked. She is naked beneath that sheet. And I am being asked to... to touch. With my hands. My bare hands on her bare... OH MY GOD.
"I—I—I couldn't possibly!" Sanji sputtered, his voice cracking three times in one sentence. He took a step back as if the vinegar bowl was a bomb. "I am a gentleman! A knight of propriety! To lay hands on a lady without... while she is vulnerable... it is scandalous! It is perverted! It is... it is my greatest dream—NO! Stop it, Sanji! Focus!"
He literally slapped his own cheek, the sound echoing in the small room.
You buried your face deeper into the pillow, screwing your eyes shut. Sanji? Touching me? Now? Like this?
You felt disgusting. You were sweaty, your hair was matted to your forehead, and you smelled like a pickled egg. You harbored a quiet, tender affection for the cook—admiring his passion, his kindness, and yes, his hands—but you wanted him to see you when you were witty and pretty, not when you were a shivering mess.
"Sanji!" Chopper barked, morphing into Heavy Point for a split second just to loom over him. "She’s burning up! Look at the thermometer! This is a medical emergency, not a peep show! Are you going to help her or let her suffer because you’re shy?"
The mention of your suffering snapped the perverted spiral instantly. The chivalrous chef reasserted control, shoving the panicked virgin deep into the recesses of his mind.
"Understood," Sanji said, taking off his blazer, his voice suddenly dropping an octave into a deadly serious tone. He set the soup down on the side table with a sharp, deliberate clack. "I will perform the duty."
He walked to the side of the bed as if marching to a duel. His hands, usually so steady when filleting a poisonous pufferfish, trembled slightly as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his striped dress shirt, revealing his forearms.
"Chopper says I need to... access your back, (Y/n)-san," he said, his voice tight and strained.
"Just... just do it," you mumbled into the mattress, your face burning hotter than the fever. "Please, Sanji. Just get it over with before I die of embarrassment."
"There is no need for embarrassment," he said, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "It is merely a... procedure."
With a shaky breath, Sanji pinched the edge of the sheet. Slowly, reverently, he folded it down to your waist.
Cool air hit your skin, causing goosebumps to ripple down your spine.
Sweet All Blue.
Sanji’s internal monologue screamed into the void. A Goddess? No, a nymph? Why she's the most beautiful creature I have ever seen to roam the seas...And she's naked...in front of me...her soft, ethereal skin, is begging to be-NO, DAMN IT SNAP OUT OF IT.
The sight of your bare back was a masterpiece he wasn't prepared for. The graceful curve of your spine, the vulnerability of your shoulder blades, the smooth skin leading down to the waistband of your soft sleep shorts. His blush deepened.
Focus, you idiot cook! She is not a snack right now, she is a patient! Treat this like... like prepping the rarest, most delicate ingredient in the world. Handle with absolute care. Do not dishonor the ingredient. Do not dishonor her.
He dipped his large, calloused hands into the cold vinegar and came closer. You felt the bed deepen from his weight. He's so close, you thought. If your head wasn't hidden in the pillow, he'd for sure see what his mere proximity does to you.
Sanji took a breath to steady himself.
"Forgive the intrusion, my dear," he murmured and then placed his hands on your shoulder blades.
"Ah!" You hissed at the shock of the cold, your back arching instinctively.
"Did I hurt you?" Sanji flinched back instantly, his hands hovering inches from your skin. "I was too rough. I am a brute. I should go—"
"No," you breathed out, forcing your muscles to relax. "It's just cold. It's okay. Please. Keep going."
He nodded, steeling himself. He began to move his hands.
Sanji was a master of his hands. They were his life. They were weapons capable of shattering rock, and they were tools of creation capable of spinning sugar into art. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to slice a tomato paper-thin without bruising it, and he applied that same obsessive focus to your skin.
He worked in long, firm strokes across your shoulders and down the dip of your spine. The sharp smell of vinegar was awful, biting the inside of his nose, but beneath it, as his hands warmed your skin, he caught the scent of you—ink, old paper, and the faint floral shampoo you used. It was intoxicating.
Keep the rhythm. Don't linger. Lingering is perverted. Just... efficient strokes. Friction. Heat transfer. Thermodynamics.
"You are incredibly tense," Sanji murmured, his voice low and vibrating right near your ear. His thumbs dug into the trapezoid muscles near your neck. "These knots... they are like stones."
"Hazard of the job," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow. "Hunched over a desk. Writing all day."
Sanji’s expression softened. He knew you worked hard. He often saw the light under your cabin door late at night when he was heading to the kitchen to prep for breakfast. He respected that about you. You poured your soul into your pages just as he poured his into his dishes.
"You must take better care of your vessel, my muse," he whispered, his thumbs working in circular motions, breaking down the tension with methodical care. "You cannot write beautiful stories if your body is broken."
"I know," you sighed turning your head to the side so you can see him. God he's so handsome...If it weren't for his little theatrics, maybe you would've told him your feelings. You gave him a weak smile.
"Hypocrite. You stand on your feet for eighteen hours a day."
Sanji let out a soft, low chuckle. "Touché."
The conversation helped. It broke the wall of awkwardness. He wasn't just touching a naked woman anymore; he was caring for you.
His hands moved down to your arms. The friction was working. The shivering had stopped, replaced by a growing warmth that felt internal rather than feverish. As he massaged your right hamd, his thumb brushed over the callous on your middle finger and the smudge of ink that was permanently etched into the skin there.
He slowed down. He ran his thumb over that ink stain, a tender, reverence in the movement. He suddenly interlocked your fingers with his. A mere action that sent your heart into a full blown marathon. But you liked it. It felt...homey.
These hands, he thought, create worlds.
"Does that feel okay?" he asked softly.
"It feels... amazing," you admitted, your defenses crumbling under his expert touch. "Your hands are... really warm."
Sanji’s heart did a complicated gymnastic routine in his chest. "I am glad. I would boil the seas if it would make you comfortable."
He moved his hand as if nothing happened, back to your spine, increasing the speed slightly as Chopper had instructed. The heat was building. Your body felt less heavy, the lead in your bones melting away. A strange, sharp clarity washed over you—the surge of energy Chopper had promised.
As his palms swept down the curve of your lower back, just above the towel line, a sound escaped you before you could stop it.
"Mnnh..."
It was a low, involuntary moan of relief. Quiet, breathy, and undeniably intimate.
Sanji froze mid-stroke.
His entire body went rigid. His face turned a shade of crimson that defied the laws of physics. His brain short-circuited completely.
DID SHE JUST—?! NO! SANJI! DO NOT INTERPRET THAT SOUND INCORRECTLY! THAT WAS A SOUND OF MEDICAL RELIEF! SHE IS IN PAIN! SHE IS SICK! DO NOT THINK ABOUT HOW GOOD THAT SOUNDED! DO NOT THINK ABOUT HEARING THAT SOUND UNDER DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES!
You bit your lip so hard it almost bled burrying your head into the pillow. Why did I make that noise? Shut up! He's just trying to help, don't make it weird!
The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the bubbling of the soup on the table.
"Is... is the pressure satisfactory?" Sanji asked, his voice sounding tight, like he was being strangled by his own tie.
"It's... it's good," you managed to say into the pillow, feeling the heat rise up your neck, having nothing to do with the fever. "You have... really magic hands, Sanji-kun."
Sanji whimpered slightly—a sound only a dog could hear—and doubled his efforts, scrubbing the vinegar into your skin with frantic, terrified dedication. He was sweating now, droplets beading on his forehead. It wasn't from the exertion. It was the sheer mental fortitude required to keep his heart from beating right out of his chest while touching the person he’d been secretly pining for.
"The heat is drawing out," Chopper observed, checking a thermometer, completely oblivious to the psychosexual crisis happening three feet away from him. "It's working! Her temperature is dropping rapidly! You’re doing great, Sanji!"
After five more minutes that felt like both a lifetime and a heartbeat, Sanji slowed to a stop.
"I think..." You took a deep breath rising your head a little, your lungs feeling clearer than they had in days. The fog in your head had lifted. You felt sticky, and you smelled terrible, but you felt alive. "I think it broke."
Sanji immediately snatched a towel, vigorously wiping the vinegar from his hands as he backed away from the bed. He looked like he had just run a marathon against Zoro and lost.
"Magnificent! Stupendous! A victory for traditional East Blue medicine!" He was speaking too fast, his eyes darting everywhere except at you. "I must go! The soup! It has surely cooled down too much! I will make a fresh batch immediately! A risotto, perhaps? Something with energy!"
He was halfway to the door, practically vibrating with nervous energy, desperate to escape the proximity of your skin before he did something stupid like confess his undying love to a patient covered in salad dressing.
"Sanji?"
He froze, hand on the brass knob. He turned slowly, terrified. "Y-yes, Mellorine?"
You rolled onto your side, pulling the sheet up to your chin, clutching it tight. You looked at him from the pillow. Your hair was messy, your eyes were tired and rimmed with red, but you gave him a small, genuine, sleepy smile. You looked as if you were painted by the most skilled artist. Even in sickness you looked flawless.
"Thank you," you said softy, locking eyes with him. "For... taking care of me. Even when it was gross."
Sanji looked like he’d been struck by lightning. The panic in his expression melted away, replaced by a soft, unguarded look of affection that made your heart stutter. For a second, he wasn't the flirting cook or the perverted pirate. He was just sweet, caring Sanji.
"You are never gross, (Y/n)-chwan," he said, his voice unusually gentle. "You are simply... human. And it is my privilege to care for you."
The moment hung there, sweet and heavy.
Then, the steam literally erupted from the top of his head with a high-pitched tea-kettle whistle. The redness returned to his face with a vengeance. He stiffened into a plank, gave a jerky, robotic bow, and shouted, "I SHALL RETURN WITH THE FINEST RISOTTO THE SEAS HAVE EVER KNOWN!"
He fled into the hallway, nearly taking the door off its hinges in his haste.
Chopper blinked, looking at the swinging door. "He’s weird. But he gives a good massage." The reindeer looked at you, beaming. "See? Vinegar works wonders!"
You closed your eyes, listening to the frantic footsteps of the cook retreating down the hall. You could still feel the phantom warmth of his hands on your back, grounding you, caring for you. A soft blush decorated your cheeks.
"Yeah, Chopper," you whispered, burying your nose in the pillow to hide your smile. "It really does."
Follow me for more :) My requests are open, so if you have a plot in mind, please send them my way ♡
So this started with me asking the question of what would have happened if Kuina hadn't died swiftly followed by the thought of what if Reiju was the one who'd left Germa and then I figure if I was already this deep I might as well let Kaya join and threw Nojiko in for fun
Hiii! Could I please request Sanji x reader where they're forced to share a bed? Pretty please with sugar and cream on top? :D Have a good day or night!! 💘💘💘
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A/N: Hello! I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I think I did decent. I hope you enjoy, anon (●’◡’●)ﾉ
⋆꙳•❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆
The Thousand Sunny sailed under a sky so blue it looked painted, the kind of day that usually made your heart swell with the pure joy of being a Straw Hat pirate. The laughter of your nakama echoed across the deck – Luffy was probably trying to steal Chopper's cotton candy, Usopp was undoubtedly spinning another tall tale for Franky, and Robin was sharing a quiet chuckle with Nami as Jinbe steered the ship with his usual calm competence. You loved them, every single one. They were your family, your anchors in the chaotic Grand Line, and your bond with each of them was as strong as a pirate's conviction. Well, almost every one.
Then there was Sanji.
The ship’s cook, the Black Leg, a man whose culinary genius was rivaled only by his… enthusiasm for women. You watched him now, twirling a rose he'd seemingly conjured from thin air, presenting it to Nami with a flourish. "Nami-swan," he'd croon, "your beauty outshines even the morning sun! A goddess graces my galley with her presence!" Minutes later, he was offering a freshly baked confection to Robin, his voice dripping with adoration. "My dear Robin-chan, a sweet treat for the sweetest flower on the sea." He’d even, on occasion, offer a respectful nod and a polite compliment to other female captains you encountered, a perfectly charming gentleman.
But when it came to you, it was like you were invisible.
"Sanji, could you pass the salt?" you'd ask during dinner, only for him to completely ignore you and instead offer extra servings to Nami and Robin. "More meat for my lovely ladies!" he'd declare, as your plate remained stubbornly empty. Once, you'd stumbled, nearly tripping over a loose rope, and while Usopp rushed to steady you, Sanji merely sidestepped, muttering something about clumsy oafs. Another time, you'd genuinely complimented his cooking, saying, "Sanji, this stew is incredible!" He’d simply grunted in response, already turning to fawn over another crewmate.
You'd tried everything to bridge the gap. You'd offered to help in the kitchen, only to be shooed away with a curt, "The kitchen is no place for a clumsy hands!" You'd attempted casual conversation, asking about his latest recipes or his dreams, but he'd either walk away mid-sentence or offer a dismissive, "What's it to ya, y/n?" You'd even, in a moment of desperation, brought him a small, rare spice you'd found on an island, hoping it would finally break the ice. He’d barely glanced at it, simply muttering, "Hmph. Unnecessary." It was as if he’d drawn a solid, invisible line, and you were firmly on the wrong side of it. You tried to like him, truly, to turn this strange animosity into something resembling friendship, but it never worked. He seemed to genuinely despise you, and for the life of you, you couldn't figure out why.
The tension between you and Sanji wasn't a sudden storm; it was a slow, creeping fog that settled over the Thousand Sunny, thick and suffocating only for you. You'd tried to tell yourself it was your imagination, that he was just a little particular, but the evidence mounted with each passing day.
One sweltering afternoon, you were helping Usopp patch a torn sail, your fingers fumbling with the needle. Sanji walked by, a tray of iced drinks in hand for everyone else. "Here, Nami-swan, a refreshing beverage for a hard-working angel!" he cooed, placing a glass beside her. Then, without a glance in your direction, he continued on, leaving you parched and pricking your finger. "Oh, thanks, Sanji," you mumbled sarcastically to his retreating back, a bitterness blooming in your chest. He never even turned around.
Another time, during a particularly rough storm, a rogue wave slammed against the deck, sending a crate of provisions tumbling towards you. You braced yourself, but Zoro, quick as lightning, was there, shoving you out of the way just as the crate crashed where you'd been standing. Sanji, who had been securing a mast nearby, simply watched the scene unfold, his expression as unreadable as ever. No gasp of concern, no "Are you alright, y/n?" Nothing. Later, he'd fussed over Nami's slightly damp hair, offering her a towel and warm tea. The stark contrast was a punch to the gut.
You found yourself actively avoiding him. You'd linger in the crow's nest with Zoro, or help Robin in the library, or even spend hours fishing with Jinbe, anything to escape the subtle, yet constant, sting of Sanji's dismissal. When he entered a room, you'd find a reason to leave. If he was in the kitchen, you'd decide you weren't hungry. The playful teasing you shared with the others, the easy camaraderie that flowed through the rest of the crew, dried up completely whenever he was near.
The final straw came during a rare, peaceful evening under a sky ablaze with stars. The crew was gathered on deck, sharing stories and laughter. You were recounting a particularly funny anecdote from your past, and everyone was engrossed, even Luffy momentarily distracted from his meat. But then, Sanji, who had been leaning against the railing, let out a loud, exaggerated yawn. "Honestly," he drawled, pushing himself upright and walking away, "some people just love the sound of their own voice." He didn't look at you, didn't even acknowledge you. He just left, taking the warmth of the moment with him.
In that instant, something inside you snapped. The lingering hope that maybe, just maybe, he didn't mean to be so hurtful, shattered. The years of trying to bridge the gap, the endless attempts to be liked, to be seen, all coalesced into a molten ball of resentment. The bitter taste of rejection, once a faint whisper, was now a roaring current within you. You were tired of trying. Tired of being ignored. Tired of the icy wall between you. A cold, quiet anger began to simmer, and with it, a new, equally cold realization: you were beginning to hate him too.
The sting of Sanji's dismissal festered, transforming your initial hurt into a simmering, quiet rage. You replayed every slight, every averted gaze, every dismissive grunt, searching for the answer. What had you done? What flaw in your character made you so utterly repellent to him? Was it your laugh? The way you ate? Your choice of words? You racked your brain for a reason, a justification, anything that would explain his unyielding animosity, but came up empty. And with that blankness came a bitter certainty: it wasn't you, it was him. And that conviction fueled a new, subtle game.
Your passive aggression was a whisper, easily missed by the others, but aimed with pinpoint accuracy at Sanji. During meal times, a critical moment in his domain, you’d become unusually particular. "Oh, is there no more of the sea king, Sanji? Just these… smaller portions?" you'd ask, a saccharine sweetness in your voice, knowing full well he prided himself on generous servings. Or, when he presented a new dessert with a flourish, you’d take a minuscule bite and declare, "It's… interesting. Very unique." – a word that, in your tone, managed to sound like a subtle insult to his culinary prowess. Most of the crew would just shrug it off, but you'd catch the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the flicker in his eye, and know it had landed.
Out on deck, your tactics became equally subtle. If he was showing off a new fishing technique, you'd "accidentally" tangle your line near his, forcing him to untangle it with a frustrated sigh. If he meticulously polished a part of the ship, you'd "forget" a muddy boot print near his freshly shined work. When he meticulously sorted supplies, you'd innocently ask, "Are these really in the right place, Sanji? They look a bit… haphazard," knowing how much he valued order in the galley and storage.
The crew, used to your generally easygoing nature, didn’t seem to notice the underlying malice. "Y/n, you're so clumsy today!" Nami might chuckle, or Usopp would tease, "Looks like someone's got butterfingers!" But Sanji, oh, Sanji noticed. He never directly confronted you, never erupted in anger. Instead, his dismissiveness would sharpen, his cold shoulder becoming even icier. He'd walk away faster, his responses became even drier, and the space he carved out between you on the ship grew wider. And with each successful, albeit tiny, jab, a sliver of your hurt dissipated, replaced by a grim satisfaction. This was a war of attrition, and you were determined not to be the only one bleeding.
The Thousand Sunny was a vibrant, often chaotic, home. Its inhabitants, the Straw Hat Pirates, were as attuned to each other as the tides to the moon. For a while, your silent war with Sanji went unnoticed, dismissed as quirks or bad days. But slowly, subtly, the others began to pick up on the discordant notes in the ship's symphony.
It started with Nami. Her brow would furrow when Sanji would effortlessly charm Robin with a culinary masterpiece, then turn around and merely grunt, "Food's ready," in your direction. She'd seen the way your usual bright demeanor would dim, your laughter catching in your throat whenever he entered the common room. She’d always known Sanji's chivalry was… selective, but the outright disregard he showed you was becoming glaringly obvious.
"Hey, Sanji," she'd once said, her voice deceptively casual, "Could you get y/n a drink too? She looks parched." Sanji had paused, a tray laden with beverages in his hands, before stiffly turning. "Of course, Nami-swan. Here, y/n," he'd said, his voice flat, not a hint of his usual warmth, as he placed a glass down with a thud that was almost too loud. You’d just given him a tight, polite smile, the kind that didn't reach your eyes.
Usopp and Chopper, ever the observant duo when they weren't caught up in their own antics, also started to notice. They'd seen your playful jabs, initially brushing them off as harmless teasing. But the gleam in your eye when Sanji bristled, the way your voice sharpened ever so slightly when addressing him, began to stand out. You, who were normally so gentle, so patient, became almost… thorny around him.
"Did you hear that, Chopper?" Usopp whispered one evening after you'd pointedly commented on the "unusual" texture of Sanji's bread, making him scowl. "Y/n sounds kinda… spiky lately, especially when Sanji's around." Chopper, his little nose twitching, murmured, "Yeah, and Sanji's always so quiet when he talks to y/n, not like how he is with Nami or Robin."
Even Luffy, despite his single-minded focus on meat and adventure, registered the shift. He might not grasp the nuances of social dynamics, but he understood the feeling of a crewmate being left out. He’d noticed Sanji never offered you the first bite of a new dish, or that your plate often seemed to be the last to be refilled. He'd also seen your smile falter, your eyes lose their usual spark when Sanji was present.
The silence between you and Sanji, once just an absence, had become a palpable presence on the ship, a cold current that occasionally brushed against the other Straw Hats. It was no longer just your private battle. The crew, one by one, was beginning to see the strained cords that bound you and Sanji, or rather, the lack thereof. The question was, what, if anything, would they do about it?
The frigid air bit at your cheeks, a stark contrast to the usual warmth of the Thousand Sunny. Snow swirled around the deck, settling on the railings and dusting the already icy waters as you approached a winter island. You were making your rounds, a notepad in hand, compiling a list of necessary supplies. It was a task you often took on, enjoying the chance to contribute in your own practical way.
"Luffy," you'd asked, pulling your scarf tighter, "anything for your meat stash?" He’d grinned, a cloud of steam puffing from his mouth, "More! Always more, y/n!" Nami needed warmer fabrics for her mapping table, Usopp wanted extra gunpowder, and Chopper, ever the doctor, requested more medical herbs. You moved through the crew, a quiet hum of efficiency, until you reached Sanji, who was meticulously wiping down a snow-dusted window in the galley, his back to you.
"Sanji," you began, your voice crisp in the cold air, "Anything you need from the island? Spices? Fresh produce?"
He paused, then, without turning, grunted, "No."
The single, blunt word, devoid of any warmth, any consideration, snapped something inside you. The quiet rage, the passive-aggressive jabs, all boiled over into a furious heat that defied the icy weather.
"No?!" you exploded, your voice echoing off the frosted deck. You slammed your notepad against your leg, the sound surprisingly loud. "That's it? Just 'no'? Do you always have to be such a dismissive jerk, Sanji?! What is your problem with me?! I've been trying for years to just get along with you, to understand why you look at me like I'm a particularly annoying insect! Why do you hate me so much?!"
Your chest heaved, the words tumbling out in a torrent of pent-up frustration. For the first time, you saw him freeze, his hand still on the window. He slowly turned, and his usual suave demeanor was completely gone. His eyes, usually sharp and discerning, were wide with genuine shock. He seemed utterly taken aback by your outburst, as if you’d just spoken in an alien tongue. He opened his mouth, then closed it, a rare silence falling between you.
Before either of you could speak another word, a deafening crack rent the air. The ship lurched violently, throwing you both off balance. A colossal shudder ran through the Thousand Sunny, the sound of splintering wood groaning beneath your feet.
"ICEBERG!" Zoro's roar cut through the blizzard, followed swiftly by Franky's frantic shouts. "Cola blast! Brace yourselves, SUPER!"
The ship shot forward with a jolt, Franky using a desperate burst of cola-fueled power to ram them directly onto the ice-laden coast of the winter island. The impact was brutal, sending you sprawling. When you pushed yourself up, the blizzard had intensified to a white-out, whipping snow and ice into a blinding frenzy. The Thousand Sunny lay listing precariously, a gaping wound visible near its hull.
"Everyone! Off the ship! We need to find shelter!" Luffy's voice, though muffled by the wind, was clear and urgent.
Amidst the chaos, the crew scrambled. You, still reeling from your outburst and the sudden impact, found yourself disoriented. A hand, unexpectedly firm, grabbed your arm. It was Sanji, his face grim, eyes scanning the swirling snow. "This way! We need to stick together!" he barked, his voice devoid of its usual dryness, replaced by a raw urgency you'd never heard directed at you.
Pulled by his grip, you stumbled through the deepening snow, the blizzard roaring around you. Your argument was forgotten, overshadowed by the immediate, terrifying reality. As the rest of the crew fanned out, searching for any sign of shelter in the blinding storm, you and Sanji, by sheer, awful coincidence, were pushed together, forced to navigate the freezing, hostile landscape side-by-side.
The blizzard was a suffocating shroud, reducing visibility to mere feet. The biting wind howled, tearing at your clothes and threatening to rip you from your feet. Sanji's grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you forward. He was a solid presence, a dark silhouette against the swirling white, his broad back offering a meager shield from the relentless onslaught of snow. You stumbled behind him, your boots sinking into the drifts, the cold seeping into your bones.
"Keep up, y/n!" his voice, strained against the wind, cut through the din.
You gritted your teeth. "I'm trying, you idiot! It's a bit hard to see where I'm going when you're dragging me!"
He didn't respond, just pulled you harder, his pace relentless. You could feel the tremor in your own body, a mixture of cold and the lingering shock from the ship's impact. The hand he held, surprisingly warm despite the freezing air, was the only anchor in the disorienting chaos. You didn't miss the chivalrous tone he used with Nami or Robin, but for the first time, you appreciated the raw, unadulterated command in his voice. It was focused, desperate, and for once, not directed against you.
After what felt like an eternity, the faint glimmers of light appeared through the swirling snow – a town. The storm had ravaged it, leaving most buildings dark, but a few defiant beacons pierced the gloom.
"Over there!" Sanji yelled, pointing towards a cluster of houses, his voice hoarse. "Let's find shelter!"
You followed, your lungs burning, your legs aching with effort. The world outside the immediate vicinity of Sanji's back was a blur of white and grey. You didn't realize you'd lost the others until you were halfway down what appeared to be the town's main street, the lights of the Thousand Sunny no longer visible behind you.
"The others… we've lost them," you gasped, clutching your side.
Sanji spared a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed against the driving snow. "They'll find their own way. We need to focus on us right now." His words were curt, but lacked the usual venom. It was just a statement of fact, born of the dire circumstances.
They approached a small, sturdy-looking house with a faint glow emanating from its windows. Sanji let go of your hand, only to immediately place a reassuring, firm hand on your back, nudging you towards the door. He raised a gloved fist and knocked, a series of urgent thuds that seemed to echo in the eerie silence of the blizzard.
The waiting was agonizing. The wind howled, mimicking a mournful cry, and the snow piled up around your boots. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.
"No one's home?" you whispered, your voice thin with cold and anxiety.
Sanji’s eyes were fixed on the door, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Someone has to be," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He knocked again, harder this time. The silence stretched, broken only by the relentless storm. You both stood there, two unlikely companions, huddled together against the overwhelming might of nature, waiting for a stranger to open the door to warmth and safety.
Just as despair began to creep in, a sliver of light widened from within. The door creaked open, revealing the worried, wrinkled face of an old woman, her eyes kind even in the dim glow of the oil lamp she held. Before Sanji could utter a word, you surged forward, your usual composure shattered by the biting cold and mounting desperation.
"Please!" you gasped, your voice raw, your teeth chattering. "Please, ma'am, we're lost! Our ship... it hit something. We've lost our crew, and it's so cold, we don't know where they are! We just need shelter from the storm, please!" You were practically pleading, your hands clasped together, a stark contrast to your earlier sharp demeanor.
The woman’s soft smile deepened, etched with an ancient understanding. "Oh, you poor dears," she murmured, her voice like warm honey. She opened the door wider, a waft of heat and the comforting scent of woodsmoke washing over you. "Come in, come in! You look frozen to the bone."
You stumbled inside, Sanji following closely behind, the immediate warmth of the small, cozy house a physical relief. The woman closed the heavy door, shutting out the furious howl of the blizzard. As you both stood dripping on her worn rug, she looked between you, her gaze lingering on Sanji's hand, still instinctively near your back, and your proximity.
"My, my," she chuckled, a gentle sound. "It's a terrible night for young sweethearts to be caught out in."
Your head snapped up, and you quickly shook your head, the words tumbling out. "Oh, no, ma'am! We're not... we're not a couple. We're just shipmates! Part of the same crew."
The old woman’s eyes twinkled, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Is that so?" she hummed, picking up two thick, fluffy towels from a nearby rack. "Well, either way, you both need warming up." She handed you one, then Sanji the other. "Here, dry yourselves. You're soaked through. I might have some clothes for you, too – they belonged to my son and daughter, so they might be a bit big, but they'll be dry." She gestured towards a small, adjoining room. "Go on, there's a washbasin in there if you wish to freshen up. I'll get some hot cocoa brewing."
As you clutched the warm towel, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. The woman, with her quiet kindness, had a way of making you feel instantly safe. Sanji, for his part, remained unusually silent, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug she placed on a small table.
"You can spend the night here," the woman offered, her voice soft but firm. "It's far too dangerous to venture out in this storm. We'll ride it out together."
You nodded, tears pricking your eyes at her generosity. "Thank you," you whispered, unable to say more. The prospect of warmth, dry clothes, and a safe haven, even with Sanji, felt like an unimaginable luxury after the harrowing ordeal outside.
The warmth of the small room was a welcome comfort. You peeled off your soaked, freezing clothes, relishing the feeling of dry fabric against your skin. The old woman's "daughter's clothes" turned out to be a pair of soft, heather-gray sweatpants that pooled slightly at your ankles, and a worn, but incredibly cozy, long-sleeved t-shirt that smelled faintly of lavender. You rolled up the sleeves, feeling a strange, unfamiliar ease settling over you.
When you emerged, Sanji was already by the small, crackling fireplace, a steaming mug cradled in his hands. He'd been given a pair of dark, well-fitting trousers that seemed to mold to his lean frame, and a simple, yet undeniably stylish, dark blue sweater that brought out the startling blue of his eyes. Even rumpled and in borrowed clothes, he managed to look effortlessly put-together.
The old woman bustled in with two mugs of rich, dark hot cocoa, handing one to you. "Here you go, dears. Warm yourselves from the inside out." She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll just go prepare your room. Make yourselves at home." With a gentle nod, she disappeared down a short hallway.
A silence fell, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant howl of the wind. You took a long, fortifying sip of your cocoa, letting the sweetness coat your tongue. Sanji was staring into the flames, his brow furrowed in a way you rarely saw – not his usual frustrated scowl, but a deep, almost pensive look.
"So," you began, breaking the quiet, "our best bet is to wait out the storm, obviously. Then, first thing in the morning, we need to head back to the Sunny. See how bad the damage is. If we can get a message to Franky and the others, that would be ideal. Maybe a flare, or some kind of signal." You outlined the plan, detailing each step, trying to fill the oppressive void between you.
Sanji simply nodded, his gaze still fixed on the dancing flames. He didn't offer a single comment, a suggestion, or even a dismissive grunt. He just listened, a distant look in his eyes, as if his mind was miles away, grappling with something far more profound than ship repairs. His uncharacteristic quietness was almost more unnerving than his usual barbs. You found yourself watching him, trying to decipher the complex emotions that seemed to be warring beneath his stoic facade.
The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant shriek of the blizzard. You watched Sanji, waiting for him to finally break his thoughtful quiet. He shifted, opening his mouth as if to speak, a faint crease forming between his brows. You held your breath, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity bubbling inside you.
But before he could utter a word, the old woman reappeared, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Alright, dears, your room is ready." She gestured down the short hallway. "Follow me."
You both rose, following her to a small, unassuming door. She pushed it open, and you stepped inside, the warm glow of a single oil lamp illuminating the space. The room was small, cozy, and surprisingly inviting. A small, sturdy wooden table stood against one wall, a fresh vase of dried wildflowers upon it. A single window, heavily curtained, muffled the storm's fury. It felt… homely, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble nature of the Thousand Sunny.
There was just one problem.
In the center of the room, neatly made with thick woolen blankets, stood a single, surprisingly spacious, bed. It was clear there were no other sleeping arrangements. You glanced at Sanji, then back at the bed, a flush creeping up your neck. His eyes, though still clouded with his earlier thoughts, also registered the immediate, awkward realization. The woman, oblivious to the sudden tension, beamed. "There you go. Get some rest. You both look like you need it." She patted your arm gently. "Good night, dears." With another soft smile, she closed the door, leaving you and Sanji alone with the roaring storm outside and the very obvious sleeping arrangement inside.
The click of the door latch echoed in the small room, amplifying the sudden, overwhelming awkwardness. You stared at the single bed, then at Sanji, who had also frozen, his back still partially turned towards you. A hot flush crept up your neck, mirroring the warmth you could almost feel radiating from Sanji's ears, though he immediately spun around, presenting you with his profile. His eyes, usually so expressive, were carefully blank, but the tell-tale redness creeping up his neck betrayed his composure.
"Well," you blurted out, your voice higher than intended, "this is… unexpected." You gestured wildly at the bed, then at the limited floor space. "There's only one bed! What are we supposed to do?" Your mind raced, conjuring images of uncomfortable nights spent huddled in sleeping bags, but even those seemed preferable to this.
Sanji cleared his throat, pushing a hand through his hair, his movements stiff. "Obviously," he muttered, his voice unusually strained, "we'll figure something out. It's a temporary arrangement." He refused to meet your gaze, instead focusing intently on a knot in the wooden floorboards. The sudden shift in his demeanor, from stern navigator to flustered stranger, was almost comical, if the situation wasn't so utterly mortifying. He was trying, desperately, to project an air of calm indifference, but the faint tremor in his hands as he stuffed them into his pockets told a different story. You, too, felt your cheeks burn, realizing that despite everything, the idea of sharing a bed with him was, for both of you, a uniquely mortifying prospect.
The tension in the small room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sanji, still with his back mostly to you, finally spoke, his voice tight. "Look, I'll just... I'll take the floor. It's fine." He gestured vaguely towards the rug near the fireplace, as if the plush blankets of the bed were an insult to his honor.
Your immediate, ingrained reaction was to argue. Not out of concern for him, not really, but because the very idea of him making a grand, self-sacrificing gesture felt like another subtle jab, another way for him to highlight the chasm between you. And besides, the floor looked painfully cold.
"Don't be an idiot," you retorted, perhaps a little too sharply. "It's freezing in here. You'll catch your death." You eyed the bed. "It's a big enough bed. We can just… not face each other. And not touch each other." The words felt ridiculous even as you said them, laying out these absurd rules for two people who usually spent their time either ignoring or subtly tormenting one another.
Sanji stiffened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before he quickly masked it. He turned to face the bed, then you, his expression carefully neutral. "Right," he muttered, "fine. Just... stick to your side." The implicit warning was clear: cross the invisible line, and the already fragile truce would shatter. You nodded curtly, the unspoken agreement hanging heavy in the air. The bed, once a symbol of comfort, now felt like a battleground.
You turned away from Sanji, the single bed looming between you like an unspoken challenge. You moved to the far side, pulling back the thick woolen blanket with a quiet rustle. The soft scent of clean linen filled the air, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside and the storm brewing inside your own chest. As you sat on the edge of the bed, about to swing your legs under the covers, Sanji's voice, low and hesitant, broke the tense silence.
"Earlier," he began, his back still partially to you as he meticulously folded his borrowed sweater, "what you said... on deck."
You froze, your hands on the blanket. The fury of your outburst had been swallowed by the chaos of the iceberg and the blizzard, but now, the memory of your words hung heavy in the air. A wave of mild embarrassment washed over you, quickly followed by the familiar sting of resentment.
"I'm sorry I yelled," you said, your voice flat, devoid of real warmth. You weren't sorry for the words themselves, only for the uncontrolled manner in which they'd erupted. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "But I meant it. All of it." You turned to face him, your expression carefully neutral, the anger in your voice replaced by a chillingly even tone. "I don't understand it, Sanji. I really don't. From the moment I joined this crew, you've treated me like I'm dirt under your boot. You can charm any woman, flatter any lady, but with me? It's like I'm invisible, or worse, a nuisance. Every conversation is a grunt, every interaction a dismissal. What have I done to make you hate me so much?" The last words were spoken with a quiet intensity that belied the calm facade.
Sanji slowly turned to face you, his hands now resting idly at his sides. His expression, usually so readable when it came to his passionate emotions, was genuinely bewildered. His brows were drawn together, not in anger, but in what looked like genuine confusion. "Hate you?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, the question laced with an disbelief that seemed utterly sincere. He didn't offer a quick retort, didn't deflect with a joke or a sharp comment. He just stood there, looking at you as if you'd just accused him of the most preposterous thing imaginable, his mind clearly reeling from your direct accusation. The thought, he realized, had never even crossed his mind.
Sanji stood there, the bewildered look still etched on his face, as if your words had struck him like a physical blow. He ran a hand through his blond hair, the gesture one of profound confusion rather than irritation.
"Hate you?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, still incredulous. He finally met your gaze, and for the first time, you saw something other than coldness or dismissal in his eyes. There was a raw honesty there, a vulnerability that startled you.
"I don't... I don't hate you, y/n," he began, his voice rough. "That's... that's not it at all." He paused, searching for the right words, something he rarely seemed to struggle with when addressing other women. "It's... it's complicated."
He took a step closer, then stopped himself, as if remembering the precarious truce between you. "Look, you're a Straw Hat. You're nakama. I'd die for any of you, you know that. Just like I'd die for Nami-san or Robin-chan, or even that moss-head." He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Zoro presumably was, trapped in the blizzard. "But... with you..." He trailed off, looking away again, his ears still a faint shade of red.
"It's just... I'm a chef. A love cook," he finally managed, turning back to you, his gaze earnest. "My passion is cooking for the ladies, seeing their smiles, making them feel like queens. It's... it's how I show my appreciation, my respect, my... my everything. And you..." He gestured vaguely at you, then quickly dropped his hand, his eyes flitting away. "You just... you make it hard."
He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, almost a confession. "Every time I tried to do it, to be... me... around you, it felt different. Not right. I'd try to give you a compliment, and the words would just... get stuck. Or they'd come out wrong. And then I'd see you look at me, and I'd just... I'd just clam up. So I just... stopped trying." He finally looked at you fully, his blue eyes holding a desperate plea for understanding. "It was easier to just... keep my distance. To be dry. Because if I tried to be the Sanji I am for every other woman, for you, I was afraid I'd just make a fool of myself. Or worse... I was afraid I'd mess it up completely."
He wasn't finished. "The more I tried to push you away, the more I... the more I realized how much I didn't want to. And that just made it worse. I was frustrated with myself, not with you. So I acted like an idiot. I'm sorry." He finished, his voice barely audible, the last word a quiet admission, a stark contrast to the flamboyant declarations he usually made. The confession hung in the air, a fragile, unexpected bridge between the two of you.
Sanji's confession hung in the air, a fragile, unexpected bridge between the two of you. The blizzard howled outside, a stark contrast to the sudden, almost unnerving quiet that had settled in the room. You stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. "You… you were afraid you'd mess it up?" you finally repeated, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. The idea that the confident, woman-adoring Black Leg Sanji could be afraid around you, that his dismissiveness stemmed from some twisted form of self-preservation, was utterly baffling.
He nodded, a faint blush returning to his cheeks. "Yeah," he muttered, looking away. "Every time I tried to... to just be normal, or to flirt, or to show you the same attention I give Nami-san or Robin-chan, it felt... wrong. Like I was performing a bad act. And then I'd see your face, and I'd think I'd just made you uncomfortable, or that you thought I was even more of an idiot." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "It was easier to just be quiet, to keep you at arm's length. It was stupid, I know. It was cowardly."
You sat there, absorbing his explanation. The years of perceived hatred, the gnawing question of what you’d done wrong, began to unravel. It wasn't hate. It was… fear. Fear of not being able to be his usual charming self, fear of not being able to express whatever it was he felt for you in a way that felt authentic to him. The realization was disorienting.
"So," you said slowly, testing the words, "all this time... you weren't brushing me off because you hated me. You were... avoiding me because you didn't know how to treat me like you treat other women?"
He finally met your gaze, a hesitant, almost hopeful look in his blue eyes. "Something like that," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I just... couldn't figure you out. And when I tried, it felt like I was failing. So I gave up. Which was the biggest mistake of all."
The tension in your shoulders, a constant companion for years, began to ease. The cold, quiet anger that had simmered within you started to dissipate, replaced by a bewildering mix of relief, confusion, and a strange, nascent warmth. The picture you had painted of Sanji in your mind, the one of the cruel, dismissive cook, was crumbling, replaced by a much more complex, and surprisingly vulnerable, man. The blizzard outside continued its furious dance, but in the small, cozy room, a different kind of storm was finally beginning to clear.
A strange, bubbling sensation began in your chest. It started as a faint tremor, then grew, until a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips. It wasn't a malicious laugh, nor one of triumph, but a sound of sheer, bewildered amusement. "You... you were afraid?" The absurdity of it, after all the years of hurt and resentment, was almost overwhelming.
Sanji, for his part, actually let out a quiet chuckle, a short, almost embarrassed sound. The sound was so foreign, so unexpected from him in your presence, that it startled you. The stiffness in his shoulders seemed to loosen, and some of the defensive tension in the room began to dissipate.
The anger you'd carried for so long, the bitter taste of perceived hatred, now felt ridiculous, a heavy cloak shed in the face of this bizarre, almost comical revelation. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not the cold, dismissive cook you'd painted in your mind, but a man who was clearly flustered, genuinely sorry, and shockingly, a little vulnerable.
"I mean, I get it," you started, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Your whole thing is… chivalry. Ladies first, all that. And with me, it just… short-circuited?" You paused, collecting your thoughts, the earlier intensity in your voice replaced by a lighter, more reflective tone. "From my side, it felt like I was doing something wrong. Every time I tried to be friendly, or to help, or even just to exist in the same room as you, you'd just… shut down. Or walk away. Or grunt. It felt personal, Sanji. Like you genuinely couldn't stand the sight of me."
You gestured vaguely, encompassing the years of strained interactions. "I thought you found me annoying, or ugly, or just completely unlikable. And it hurt. It really did. So, eventually, I just stopped trying. And then I got angry. Because why should I keep trying if you clearly hated me for no reason?"
Sanji listened, his gaze steady on yours. This time, there was no sign of defensiveness, only a profound understanding dawning in his eyes. When you finished, he nodded slowly, running a hand over the back of his neck.
"I see it now," he said, his voice soft, entirely devoid of its usual brashness. "From your side... yeah, I can see how it looked that way. I truly am sorry, y/n. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just... an idiot. A complete, selfish idiot who let his own stupid hang-ups turn me into a jerk." He looked at the floor, then back at you, a genuine regret etched on his face. "There was no excuse for how I acted. And you didn't deserve it. Not from me, not from anyone."
The unspoken weight that had burdened your relationship for so long began to lift, a tangible shift in the atmosphere between you. The years of misunderstanding, of unspoken grievances, were finally laid bare, allowing a fragile new beginning to emerge from the wreckage of the past.A fragile silence settled between you, no longer tense or awkward, but laden with the weight of years of unspoken words finally released. The blizzard outside seemed a distant hum compared to the quiet revolution that had just taken place within the cozy room.
"Well," you said, a soft, almost shaky breath escaping your lips. "It was quite a way to clear things up, wasn't it? Yelling on deck in a blizzard, then crashing a ship." A small, genuine smile touched your lips, and Sanji, to your surprise, offered one back, a rare, unguarded expression that softened his features.
"Yeah," he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Not exactly my usual approach to… communication." He rubbed the back of his neck again, then finally, tentatively, walked towards the bed, sitting down on the edge, a comfortable distance from you.
"So," you began, a new kind of curiosity sparking within you, "what now? Do we… just pretend none of that happened for the last few years?" You weren't asking to forget the hurt, but rather how to move forward from this unexpected confession.
Sanji looked at the fire, then at his hands, before meeting your gaze. "No," he said, his voice firm, "we don't pretend it didn't happen. I was a complete ass, and I need to make up for it. I... I want to try. To be better. To actually be your nakama, properly. If you'll let me." His blue eyes held a sincerity that you'd never seen directed at you before, a quiet plea that was more impactful than any grand declaration.
You considered his words, the genuine regret in his tone. The thought of letting go of the anger, of allowing this unexpected vulnerability to reshape your understanding of him, felt both daunting and incredibly liberating. The idea of a future where you didn't have to brace yourself for his dismissals, where a true camaraderie might actually exist between you, was almost too good to imagine.
"Okay, Sanji," you said softly, a genuine warmth spreading through you, finally melting the last vestiges of your resentment. "Okay. Let's try."
A visible wave of relief washed over his face, and a faint, shy smile played on his lips. "Thank you, y/n," he murmured. "Truly."
The air in the room, once thick with unspoken animosity, now felt lighter, cleared by the honest words finally shared. The storm outside raged on, but inside, a fragile peace, a new beginning, had finally dawned. You both settled deeper into your respective sides of the single bed, the unspoken agreement of no touching, no facing, still in place, but somehow, the space between you no longer felt like a chasm, but merely a respectful distance. The long night ahead, once a source of dread, now held the quiet promise of something entirely new.
The unspoken truce hung in the air, a silent agreement to navigate the shared space with newfound respect. You lay on your side of the bed, facing away from Sanji, listening to the rhythmic howl of the wind against the windowpanes. Every rustle of the blankets, every shifting of weight, felt amplified in the quiet room. You could sense Sanji on his side, equally still, perhaps grappling with the same awkward awareness.
Sleep felt like an impossible feat. Your mind replayed the evening's events: the explosive argument, the ship's violent crash, and then, most surprisingly, Sanji's raw confession. It was a lot to process, a complete re-framing of a relationship you’d long resigned yourself to being perpetually fractured.
Minutes stretched into what felt like an hour. You adjusted your pillow, trying to find a comfortable position, keenly aware of the warmth emanating from the other side of the bed. Just as you were about to give up and stare at the ceiling, a soft, even breathing began to register from behind you. Sanji, it seemed, had managed to drift off.
A wave of unexpected peace washed over you. The anger was truly gone, replaced by a strange lightness. The knowledge that he didn't hate you, that his distance had been a clumsy, misguided attempt to protect... something, allowed you to finally relax. With a quiet sigh, you let your eyelids drift shut, the gentle crackle of the fire and the distant lullaby of the storm finally lulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep. For the first time in a very long time, you slept soundly, free from the weight of resentment, and surprisingly, not alone.
You awoke slowly, not to the blare of a ship's bell or the familiar creak of the Thousand Sunny, but to an unfamiliar warmth. For a moment, you lay still, confused by the unexpected comfort, the gentle pressure against your back. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the heavy curtains. The storm had quieted, replaced by the hushed stillness of a snowy morning.
Then, you became acutely aware of the weight around your waist, the steady rhythm of breath against your hair. A jolt went through you as the realization hit. Sanji.
His arm was draped securely over your middle, drawing you back against his chest. His other hand was tucked beneath your head, his fingers lightly brushing your hair. You could feel the soft material of his borrowed sweater against your back, the warmth of his body radiating through you. He was still deep in sleep, his breathing even and peaceful.
Your own breath hitched. The carefully maintained distance from the night before, the unspoken rules of no touching, no facing, had dissolved in the unconsciousness of sleep. Here, in the quiet intimacy of the morning, all the barriers that had defined your relationship for so long had simply... melted away. You lay there, frozen, acutely aware of every point of contact, the surprising comfort of his embrace, and the sheer, overwhelming surprise of it all.
Your breath hitched. The reality of Sanji's arm around you, his warmth a comforting furnace against your back, crashed over you. Every instinct screamed. Freak out. Move. Get away. But another, quieter part of you, the one that had just experienced a night of profound, unexpected peace, hesitated. Then, you heard a soft shift behind you, a faint sigh, and a new wave of panic surged. He was waking up.
Your eyes snapped shut, lids squeezed tight, and you went completely rigid, feigning the deepest sleep of your life. You slowed your breathing, trying to mimic the gentle rhythm of slumber, praying he wouldn't notice your sudden stiffness. The warmth of his arm lingered, then, slowly, tentatively, you felt him shift. His grip loosened, and for a terrifying moment, you thought he might pull away completely.
Instead, the pressure against your back lessened as he seemed to prop himself up on an elbow. You could feel his gaze on the back of your head, burning into you even through your closed eyelids. You held your breath, every nerve ending screaming with awareness.
Then, a feather-light touch brushed your forehead. So soft, so brief, you almost imagined it. It was his lips. A gentle, lingering kiss, a moment suspended in the quiet morning.
A soft whisper followed, barely audible, rough with sleep and a vulnerability that pierced through your feigned slumber. "You have no idea, do you, y/n?" His voice was a raw murmur, a confession whispered into the silent room, meant only for the ears of a sleeping person. "You have no idea how much I... how much I actually adore you."
The words hit you with the force of a physical blow, stripping away every layer of pretense, every lingering shred of doubt. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat in your ears. You lay motionless, a silent, stunned witness to a confession that reshaped everything you thought you knew about him, and about yourself. The "hate" had been a lie, a clumsy shield for a truth far more profound and terrifyingly beautiful.
The weight of his words, of his unexpected confession, pressed down on you. You lay there, still feigning sleep, every fiber of your being buzzing with the shock of "adore you." It was a word so far removed from "hate," from "dismissal," it was as if an entirely different person had whispered it. You felt a tremor run through his arm, a final, lingering caress as he slowly, carefully, began to withdraw.
The warmth against your back dissipated, replaced by the cool morning air. You heard the soft rustle of blankets as he eased himself out of bed. The floorboards creaked faintly as he moved. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, listening intently. A soft sigh escaped him, then the sound of fabric rubbing together, indicating he was likely pulling on his borrowed clothes.
Finally, you heard his footsteps pad softly across the room towards the door. The latch clicked, barely audible, and then silence. He was gone, presumably to find the old woman and inquire about his and your dry clothes.
You waited a beat, two, three, just to be sure. Then, slowly, cautiously, your eyes fluttered open. The room was still, the light soft and diffused. You pushed yourself up, the warmth of the bed already fading, replaced by the chill of the morning. Your mind raced, replaying his whisper, the feel of his lips on your forehead. Adore you. It echoed in the quiet room, a profound, undeniable truth that had just rewritten years of your life. The world, or at least your world with Sanji, had just irrevocably shifted. You slid out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor, your heart still hammering in your chest.
You moved to the small window, pushing aside the heavy curtains. Outside, the world was a pristine landscape of untouched snow, glistening under a pale, serene sky. The storm had passed, leaving behind a breathtaking, silent beauty. Yet, your mind was anything but serene. Adore you. The words resonated, shaking the very foundations of your understanding.
You dressed quickly in the borrowed sweatpants and shirt, the warmth of the fabric a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your head. Every interaction, every dismissive glance, every terse word from Sanji over the years now replayed in your mind, seen through the new, astonishing lens of his confession. His frustration hadn't been with you, but with himself, with his inability to express something far deeper than mere chivalry.
As you stepped out of the room, the scent of something savory wafted from the kitchen. You found Sanji and the old woman chatting by a crackling stove, the woman stirring a pot while Sanji, now in his own dry clothes, politely poured her a cup of tea. He looked up as you entered, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze met yours. A subtle blush dusted his cheeks, and his eyes, usually so direct, quickly darted away.
"Ah, good morning, dear!" the old woman chirped, her smile as warm as the fire. "Sanji here was just telling me about your ship. Sounds like quite the adventure!"
You offered a weak smile, still reeling. "It certainly was, ma'am." You risked another glance at Sanji. He wpas carefully avoiding your eyes, his posture a little stiffer than usual. The confident, charming cook of the Thousand Sunny was clearly flustered, wrestling with the aftermath of his unwitting confession.
The air between you felt different, charged with unspoken knowledge. The playful banter, the subtle jabs, even the cold silence of the past, all seemed like childish games now, replaced by a profound, almost overwhelming awareness. The question wasn't if you'd heard him, but what came next.
The scent of hot breakfast and the cozy warmth of the old woman’s home were a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, but the need to find the crew weighed heavily. You and Sanji exchanged a silent, knowing glance. The time for awkward revelations and stunned silences was over; the mission, finding your nakama, was paramount.
"Thank you, ma'am," Sanji said, bowing deeply to the old woman as she handed him a small, neatly wrapped package of provisions. "For everything. You saved us."
"Indeed," you added, a genuine warmth in your voice as you took her soft, wrinkled hand. "We can't thank you enough for your kindness."
The old woman smiled, her eyes twinkling as they flitted between you and Sanji. "Nonsense, dears. Just be safe out there. And do come back if you ever pass this way again."
With final goodbyes and heartfelt promises, you both stepped out of the warm house and back into the crisp, cold air of the winter island. The blizzard had completely subsided, leaving behind a world blanketed in pristine, untouched snow that sparkled under the gentle morning sun. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, promising a clearer day for travel.
The immediate silence was deafening after the cozy chatter of the house. You and Sanji began to trek through the deep snow, the only sounds the crunch of your boots and the distant calls of unseen birds. The Thousand Sunny was a dark, distant smudge against the stark white landscape, a visible landmark in the vast expanse.
"We should head for the ship first," you stated, your breath misting in the air. "Franky will be trying to assess the damage, and the others will likely rendezvous there."
Sanji nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Agreed. We need to find out the extent of the repairs needed. And make sure everyone else is alright." His voice was back to its usual controlled tone, the lingering vulnerability from the morning confession carefully tucked away, for now. Yet, the air between you was no longer charged with animosity, but with a new, tentative understanding. The journey to find your crew now felt like a shared mission, bound by more than just pirate loyalties.
The crunch of snow under your boots was the loudest sound as you and Sanji began the long trek towards the Thousand Sunny. The crisp, clean air filled your lungs, and the silent, vast expanse of the snow-covered island stretched before you. The ship, still a distant, dark silhouette, stood as your beacon.
The journey was long, punctuated only by the occasional gust of wind that stirred the snow into dancing eddies. You found yourselves walking side-by-side, a comfortable silence settling between you that was entirely new. It wasn't the strained, awkward quiet of before, but a peaceful absence of needing to fill the space. You were both focused on the task, but a quiet understanding, a newly forged connection, hummed beneath the surface.
As you walked, you occasionally glanced at Sanji. He seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed, but not with the familiar irritation. It was a contemplative look, almost somber. You wondered if he was replaying the events of the morning, just as you were. The "adore you" echoed in your mind, a secret shared between the two of you, unknown to the world, and for now, to him.
After what felt like hours, the Thousand Sunny began to grow larger, its familiar mast and distinctive figurehead slowly taking shape. The damage, even from a distance, looked substantial. The hull was visibly breached, and the ship was listing heavily, a testament to the force of the collision.
"Looks like Franky will have his work cut out for him," you murmured, the sight of the damaged ship bringing a fresh wave of concern.
Sanji nodded, his gaze hardening with resolve. "Yeah, but if anyone can fix it, it's him." His voice held a quiet determination, already shifting into the protective, reliable mode of a Straw Hat crewmate.
As you drew closer, you could hear faint shouts and the clang of metal. Relief washed over you. The others were there, working. The shared ordeal of the night, the surprising intimacy of the morning, and now the sight of your nakama, united by crisis, solidified the fragile new understanding between you and Sanji. The journey back to your crew felt less like an escape from the storm, and more like a return to a home that, for the first time, truly felt complete.
As you and Sanji finally reached the Thousand Sunny, the scene was one of controlled chaos. Franky, stripped to his waist despite the cold, roared instructions as he welded a temporary patch onto the gaping hole in the hull. Zoro was hauling splintered wood away, his muscles straining, while Usopp and Chopper scurried around, gathering tools and bandages. Nami was huddled with Robin over a map, likely already charting a course for repairs. Luffy, ever himself, was attempting to fish through a hole in the ice, occasionally snagging a frozen boot instead of a fish.
"Y/N! SANJI!" Luffy's delighted shout cut through the din, and he abandoned his fishing immediately, rubber limbs stretching to engulf you both in a bone-crushing hug. "You're okay! We were worried!"
"We found shelter with a kind old woman in town," you explained, pulling free from Luffy's embrace, your gaze finding Nami's relieved expression. "She let us stay the night. The storm was too bad to move."
Sanji, meanwhile, was already peeling off his coat, his eyes scanning the damaged ship with a professional intensity. "The old woman was a lifesaver," he confirmed, then turned to Franky. "How bad is it, Franky? Can she sail?"
"SUPER unfortunate, but we'll manage!" Franky boomed, sparks flying from his welding torch. "Need some major patching up, but we can get her seaworthy enough to reach the next island!"
Without a moment's hesitation, you and Sanji integrated yourselves into the work. You began helping Chopper organize the medical supplies, making sure everything was accounted for after the crash. Sanji, ever the multi-tasker, quickly assessed the remaining food stores, then joined Zoro in hauling heavier debris, his movements efficient and strong.
The crew, however, began to notice. It wasn't just that you were both present and safe. It was the way you interacted. You and Sanji, the two members of the crew who had always seemed to exist on separate, icy planes, were now moving with an easy, almost natural coordination.
"Need a hand with that, y/n?" Sanji asked once, his voice surprisingly gentle, as you struggled to lift a heavy crate of supplies. He stepped in before you could answer, effortlessly hoisting it himself. You met his eyes, and a small, genuine smile touched your lips. "Thanks, Sanji."
Later, as you passed him a tool he needed for a repair, he offered a quick, appreciative nod. You even caught a glimpse of him laughing softly at something you said to Usopp, a genuine, unforced sound that warmed you. The subtle jabs were gone, replaced by polite requests, easy cooperation, and even shared smiles. The tension that had always hummed between you had vanished, replaced by a nascent, comfortable camaraderie. The Straw Hats, a family that knew each other intimately, couldn't help but notice the profound, undeniable shift.
As the day wore on, patching the Thousand Sunny became a unified effort, but the subtle shifts between you and Sanji didn't go unnoticed.
During a brief break, while Franky was retrieving more supplies, Nami leaned towards Robin, a speculative look on her face. "Did you see that?" she whispered, nodding towards you and Sanji, who were currently conferring over a length of rope. "They're actually talking... without arguing."
Robin's usual serene smile deepened. "Indeed, Nami. The atmosphere around them seems remarkably lighter."
Over by the main mast, Usopp nudged Chopper with his elbow. "Hey, Sanji just handed y/n a wrench without even grunting! And she actually smiled at him! What's going on?"
Chopper tilted his head, his innocent eyes wide. "Maybe they finally made up from their big fight?"
Even Zoro, who usually paid little mind to anything beyond fighting and napping, cast a sidelong glance at the pair of you. He saw Sanji offer you a flask of hot water, a gesture of quiet consideration, and observed you accepting it with a comfortable nod, not a bristling retort. There was a quiet hum of curiosity spreading through the crew, a subtle acknowledgment of the monumental shift.
The next week was a revelation. With the Thousand Sunny undergoing extensive repairs, confined to the icy shores of the winter island, daily life became a continuous, shared endeavor. And with it, the dynamic between you and Sanji transformed in ways no one, least of all you two, had anticipated.
The sharp edges of Sanji's usual demeanor towards you softened completely. He still fawned over Nami and Robin, but now, his compliments to you were quiet, genuine observations. "That patch job looks good, y/n," he'd remark, a faint approval in his voice, or "You handled that supply run well." He started preparing small, thoughtful treats for you specifically, leaving a warm cup of spiced tea by your side while you worked, or a specially grilled piece of fish on your plate that he knew you favored. There was no fanfare, just a subtle, steady stream of care.
And your own reactions shifted in kind. The bristling defensiveness, the passive-aggressive retorts, simply evaporated. You found yourself laughing easily at his jokes, accepting his help without a moment's hesitation, and even seeking him out for conversation. During meal prep, instead of shooing you away, he'd sometimes offer a quiet, "Need a hand with that chopping?" and you'd find yourselves working side-by-side, discussing recipes or sharing anecdotes about past adventures.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day of repairs, you sat on the deck, watching the stars appear in the clear winter sky. Sanji joined you, offering you a steaming mug of cocoa. The silence that fell between you was no longer awkward, but companionable.
"Thanks, Sanji," you murmured, blowing on the hot drink.
"No problem," he replied, his voice soft. He didn't turn away, didn't make an excuse to leave. He just sat there, a comfortable presence beside you.
The crew saw it all. They saw you and Sanji sharing hushed conversations over dinner, a genuine smile gracing his lips as you spoke. They saw him automatically covering you with a blanket when you dozed off during a break. They saw you instinctively handing him tools before he even asked. The old, icy wall had not just crumbled; it had vanished, replaced by an invisible bridge of quiet understanding and blossoming affection. The Straw Hat Pirates, a family defined by their bonds, watched with a mixture of surprise and profound satisfaction as two of their own, once perpetually at odds, finally, truly, found their way to each other.
Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!
Word count : 3k
Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!
The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.
One: He was grumpy.
Two: He was a private person.
Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.
That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.
That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.
What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.
With the florist.
With you.
“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside.
They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.
“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.
Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.
Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”
Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”
They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.
That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”
As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”
Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”
“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”
Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”
“She was literally wearing it—”
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.
Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.
Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.
What was the world coming to?
—
Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ.
Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib.
She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”
Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.
“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase
Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”
From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”
Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.
Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”
Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”
“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”
Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.
Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”
John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”
“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”
John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”
“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”
Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”
Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”
“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”
His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.
She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.
“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.
“You’re lying,” she snapped.
He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”
Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”
Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”
He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.
And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.
—
Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.
And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.
It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets.
Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.
“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”
“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.
Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”
John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”
Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”
Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”
Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”
Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.
John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.
“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.
“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway.
It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.
But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.
They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.
To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.
“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”
Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”
Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”
John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”
Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.
And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.
The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.
“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”
Yelena and John froze in their tracks.
James?
James?
No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.
Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”
Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.
Honey?
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”
Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.
You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”
Oh.
Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated
John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”
Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.
John let out a wheeze.
Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”
Bucky nodded. “Yup.”
“Like—actually married?”
“Mhm.”
Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”
Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”
“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.
Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”
“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”
“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”
“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”
Bucky could only nod again.
Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”
You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”
Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.
John looked like he was about to have a stroke.
“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”
John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.
“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”
Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”
Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.
John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.
But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”
You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.
You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.
Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.
You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.
“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”
John scoffed, “A while?”
You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”
Yelena’s jaw dropped.
“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”
John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”
Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."
Bucky only shrugged, unbothered.
You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”
John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.
Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.
“How did you meet?”
“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”
“Does he ever actually smile?”
At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”
John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”
You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”
And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.
You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges.
Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.
“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.
Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”
John choked.
Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”
Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut.
For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.
And then, without thinking, you leaned in.
It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.
Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you.
John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.
You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him.
“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.
Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”
You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.
“Off,” you said simply.
Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.
Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say.
John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.
You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.
“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.
Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”
And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.
The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.
A ring.
A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.
She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.
That’s why he always played with it.
Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.
-end.
Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.
jbbartram-illu
2087
baratheonpilled
dededos
