🪻𝕷𝖚𝖑𝖚🪻

💜23 yo self taught artist 💜multifandom

[nemunemu1]

warming up the frozen 🪔

tags: yami sukehiro x fem!reader, captain x subordinate, fluff, comfort, yami taking care of reader, love confession, oneshot

summary: reader often suffers from migraines which result in sleepless nights. Yami's always there to take care of her

You were an ice mage, a powerful one. Every spell you cast shimmered with raw, crystalline power, bending frost and snow to your will. Yet the more magic you wielded, the weaker you became after, as if your very essence was being leeched away. When the battle ended, your body would betray you: freezing aches crawling through your bones, and migraines that struck like jagged shards of ice behind your eyes. Everything until you recovered again and warmed yourself enough to function properly again.

Another sleepless night caused by an awful migraine. You wandered through the corridors of Black Bulls headquarters, deciding to head outside for a walk not to wake anyone up. But someone was already up.

"Tch. That headache again?" You heard deep, familiar voice of your captain.

"Ah, captain..." you looked down intimidated currently by his strong presence, when he found you at your weakest, wearing only light pajamas.

Yami steps closer, the glow from his cigarette briefly lighting the sharp concern in his eyes before he flicks it away. He tilts your chin up with two fingers, rough, but careful.

"You're ice-cold again. You pushed too hard, yesterday" he exhaled scratching the back of his head. "Should’ve said somethin’ earlier."

He shrugs off his tattered cloak and drapes it over your shoulders, warmth clinging to the fabric from his body heat.

"C'mon. We’re gettin’ you warm before you turn into a damn popsicle." A smirk tugs at his stubbled jaw. "Wouldn’t look good if my strongest mage froze solid on my watch."

You smiled with gratitude and nodded, surrendering to his lead and putting yourself under his care. Yami nudges your shoulder with his as he guides you toward the kitchen, boots thudding lazily against the floorboards.

"Next time, just wake me up. I’ll brew tea, light a fire… whatever it takes to keep that head of yours from crackin’ open." He said in his usual nonchalant tone.

The man tosses a dry log into the stove and sparks a flame with his lighter, after a split second igniting warmth.

"...And no more midnight escapes. All my mages should be in their rooms sleeping by 11" he added with that slight hint of unserious exaggeration whenever he joked around.

You let out a small chuckle, at this child-like treatment. You were far older than newer recruits like Asta and Noelle, your age was closer to Yami's, yet sometimes his caring nature made him treat you like a needy kid.

Your cheeks flushed a little under impression of his words. So warm, so familiar, so caring contrasting with his brutal nature.

"You're way too good to me, captain" you muttered softly, slightl playfulness lingering in your voice.

"Don't be gettin’ soft on me now."

Yami avoids your gaze for a moment, poking at the fire making sure it burns hit enough to provide warmth for you. The light dances over his stubble, his messy black hair, hiding the faint twitch of his lips.

"Someone’s gotta keep you from turnin’ into an ice statue" he throws another log in the flames. "You'd definitely look good standing like that in living room but I prefer you warm and alive"

He grabs a chipped mug from the shelf, one that survived daily black bulls shenanigans, and pours steaming water over dried tea leaves.

"Here." He shoves it into your hands, voice gruff but warm. "Drink up till the last drop. Captain's orders."

"Yes, captain" you took the cup from him, warming your frigid hands. A sip of steaming beverage made pleasant warm spread through your body. You moved to the couch taking a seat.

"Good. Now stay there." He commanded.

Yami stomps over to the supply cabinet, yanking out a thick blanket, threadbare at the edges but still warm from being stashed near a heating charm. He tosses it at you without finesse.

You returned him his cloak and wrapped yourself in a soft blanket. Your face flushed with relief and comfort as you settled comfortably sipping more of the warm aromatic drink.

"Wrap up. I saw you shiver just now."

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching as steam curls from your mug as if to make sure it's still warm enough even though he just brewed it.

"You are making me worried, though" he grumbled his eyebrows furrowing slightly "It's been happening more often lately. I'm feeling like if I don't watch over you, you might freeze to death.

You look down, eyes stuck on your forearms where little ice crystals lingered, not sure how to respond. Your power was a double edged sword, fierce and brave on the battle ground but making you feeble and frail after.

Yami drags a chair over with his foot—sitting too close, knees almost bumping into yours. He fishes out another cigarette but doesn’t light it yet, just flicks the unlit end between his fingers.

"If you don't inform your captain about those side effects... I might put you in detention."

You look up at him with a gaze that explained more than words. Uncertainty, vulnerability, plead for understanding.

He leans in, voice dropping to a gravelly murmur.

"Or I could start expectin’ you to need this every night?Or maybe you want me to just stick around and make sure ya don't freeze solid on principle?"

You hear that teasing in his voice again making you less nervous about the situation.

You let out a soft exhale with a weak smile. "I don't think it's a secret that I like when you take care of me, captain. Those migraines....are seriously unbearable. But you make me suffer less each time you help me out."

"Mhm."

Yami glances away again, lighting his cigarette, corner of his lips almost curling into something that could look like a smile.

After a moment of silence when you focused on your tea and Yami on his cigarette, his hand reaches out to rest against your forehead, his palm shockingly warm compared to the ice of your skin.

"Still freezin’," he grumbles. "C'mon. Lie down."

He waits till you finish the last sip and shoves a spare pillow against the armrest, urging your head to move with a light nudge. You obediently flopped on the couch, your body that felt heavy at the moment landing there with a thud.

"Atta girl."

Yami's hand lingers on your brow for half a second too long, calloused and rough, but almost too gentle, then it pulls away spread the blanket over your shoulders, fixing the pillow under your sore head.

"Better?"

He moves to sit on the edge of the couch, weight dipping the cushion. It places him close enough that you can smell tobacco.

“Much better,” you exhaled, contentment easing into your chest. The smell of cigarettes was strangely comforting.

"Good."

Yami relaxes, leaning back against the armrest. One foot rests on the coffee table, the other on the floor, legs spread wide and relaxed, taking up too much room. But you didn't mind at all. It felt oddly domestic with both of them being just themselves.

"Gotta say…" he mutters, flicking the cigarette between his knuckles.

"Hm, what is it, captain?" You shift your head to look up at him.

"Nothin'."

Yami glances down at you, one eyebrow raised like you caught him mid-thought. The corner of his mouth twitches—half smirk, half something quieter.

"Just thinkin’… I'm damn lucky you joined my squad"

He leans back further, folding his arms behind his head.

"You're a bit of pain in ass but I ain’t complainin’."

His voice drops low again—teasing, but laced with something warmer than smoke and fire.

"I'm lucky I was chosen" you let your eyes flutter shut feeling warmer each minute. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I have best mates and... couldn't wish for a better captain"

"If being best captain means sittin’ here watchin’ you sleep like some creep? Hell, I’ll take it."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark.

"I don't mind being watched over by you like that, captain. It makes me feel safe" you admitted sincerely.

"Is that so…"

Yami exhales slow, eyes narrowing as he watches you. His smirk lazy smirk tugging on his mouth.

He shifts, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked with yours.

"You really mean that… don't ya? You feel safe, with me watchin'."

His eyes flicker with something warm, something unexpectedly tender.

You extended your hand and carefully took the cigarette from him, inhaling the smoke as if savouring it, before placing it back in his grasp. “Yes,” you murmured, a faint, fond smile touching your mouth. "I mean it."

Yami looks away with a huff. The cigarette is halfway to his mouth, forgotten as he stares at the opposite wall, too aware of your touch still lingering on his hand, the feeling of your gaze.

"You don't play fair" he flicks your forehead.

The words come out grumbled, half-obscured by the cigarette shoved between his lips. His free hand reaches to rub a thumb against your knuckles, as an excuse to check your body temperature – still cold, but no longer frozen.

Yami lets out a huff, not quite a sigh, but close. "Jus' couldn't sleep. Got up, thought I'd have a smoke. Wasn't expectin' to find ice-princess headin' outside in the middle of the night."

He exhales another stream of smoke. It curls against the dim light of the room, wrapping around his sharp features.

"You're not overworking yourself, are you, captain?" You asked softly opening your eyes a little, observing the dancing fire across the room.

"Me? Nah."

Yami leans back, scratching his stubble with a rough hand. His voice is steady, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like he’s not exactly telling the truth and knows you can see it.

"Just… been hearin’ things. Movements near the border. Nobles actin’ sketchy again, like always."

He taps ash into an ashtray at coffee table, gaze fixed on the grey powder.

"And… well." He lowers his voice slightly. "Someone's gotta watch over my team when they're too insufferable."

His eyes slide to you.

You look up at him meeting his gaze

"Next time I'll return the favor. I'll let you relax and take a break. Paper work, watching over the squad, anything."

Yami snorts, blowing out a stream of smoke. He seems about to argue, but then pauses, eyes narrowing as he studies you.

"You're serious, aren't you."

It's not a question. His smirk returns, but it's not his usual sly grin, something softer, deeper.

"You'd really try to take care of me, huh."

"Only if you’d permit it,"you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Mm. We'll see about that."

Yami huffs and ashes the cigarette into the tray again. The room falls silent for a spell, quiet, but not uncomfortable. He remains where he is, close enough to feel the heat from your body.

His eyes rake over you again, this time slower, thoughtful. It's hard to read his expression like this, like he's battling something inside himself.

His thumb rubs feather light circles against your knuckles, not quite realizing he's doing it, a gesture so unlike him.

You savoured the faint warmth of his touch, letting it dissolve the frost you carried, heat seeping gently into her skin. “I do care. Very much,” you murmured. "Besides…"A small smile curved your lips. "Every man needs a woman’s guiding hand at some point."

Yami lets out a short, sharp laugh, half surrender. He shakes his head, stubble scratching against the back of his hand as he rubs it across his mouth.

He leans in just slightly—close enough that the light from the fire catches the glint in his dark eyes.

"You tryin' to fix me now?"

His voice drops low—teasing at first but with something warmer underneath.

"...Might be too late for that."

His fingers brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead as you tilt your head trying to read the meaning of his words.

"Captain’s already been taken, you know."

"Taken?"

Your eyes widened in a shock as you gripped the blanket, hoping maybe you misunderstood.

"Yeah."

Yami's eyes stay locked with yours, dark, intense. Smoke curls again from the forgotten cigarette between his fingers, as he leans closer, the couch shifting under his weight.

"Taken, as in…"

His thumb brushes against your cheek—light, like a whisper. He's close enough that your breath mingles, warm and heavy.

"Taken by a cold ice-princess who doesn't even realise she's stolen my damn heart by now."

"Wha—" you parted your lips, but no words came. Your wide eyes searched his, firelight flickering in their depths. You looked shocked, stunned even, yet something fragile and hopeful still lingered in your gaze.

"Surprised?"

Yami's smirk is back, but softer than usual—more teasing than sharp. His thumb brushes against your cheek again, tracing along the contour of your jaw. His voice remains low, almost a whisper.

"Shouldn't be. Not a secret I’ve been wantin' you for a while now."

He leans in even further, breath mingling again.

"And I don't plan on lettin' anyone else have you."

You pushed herself up, clutching the blanket to your chest as if it could steady you. “Are you… serious?” The words came out fragile, almost disbelieving. Hope fluttered uneasily in your chest, bright and terrifying all at once, because a moment ago, he had seemed so far beyond your reach.

"Damn straight."

Yami huffs, watching you sit upright with something between amusement and intensity in his eyes. The blanket slips slightly, but he reaches up to fix it, fingers grazing your shoulder through the fabric.

"Never been more certain of anything."

He holds your gaze, steady and unflinching.

You gulped, trembling under the weight of his words, your thoughts reeling. “Yeah…I mean...” The word barely left your lips. “I wouldn’t mind being yours, captain.” You drew a shaky breath. “Truth is… I think I’ve wanted that for a very long time.”

"Good. We are on the same page then"

Yami's lips twisted into a smirk again, his hand shifting to rest on your shoulder. The touch was gentle, rough fingertips drawing lazy circles on your skin. It was an easy-going gesture, but it held a possessive undercurrent.

You shifted closer, clinging to him, your arms looping around his strong one, as if holding on to more than just his body. Finally, you let yourself lean in, letting the nearness you’d longed for wash over you.

A low, almost pleased noise escaped him as you closed the distance. After a while he shifted, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you closer, the blanket wrapped around the two of you. He smelled like smoke, warm and bitter

"Damn," he muttered against your skin, voice low and gruff. "You're still freezing for my liking"

"In this position…” you exhaled softly, a shiver running through you. “I’ll get warm pretty soon.” you felt yourself melting into him, surrendering to the heat of the moment.

"Hah… that so?"

Yami chuckles—low and rough, vibrating against your neck where his face still rests. His grip tightens, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. The heat of his body seeps through the blanket, burning away the cold like a slow-spreading flame.

"Mm. Guess you’re right."

He lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with something warm and lazy.

Your eyes locked on his, warm, tender, and full of quiet fondness. Ever since joining the squad, you had admired Yami from afar. You had been his right hand, steadfast and loyal. And now you finally get what you yearned for.

Yami’s voice dropslow, when he says your name, like he’s holding back something.

His fingers slide up to cradle the side of your face, calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he studies you.

"I’ve been watchin" you since day one, you know. You were always truly impressive"

You gasped softly, hear beating just faster at his heartfelt confession.

"You fought like hell just to prove yourself here, even when no one else gave a damn. And I…" He smirks faintly. "I liked that fire in you."

He leans in until his forehead rests against yours, a gesture surprisingly affectionate and tender.

"But now?" His voice is barely above a whisper. "Now, you're more than just that.

You're my woman."

And for once he says it soft.

“Captain’s woman…” you breathed, unable to believe it, your pulse hammering in your chest, cheeks burning. “It’s… an honor.” Every word trembled with awe and something tender you could hardly contain.

You tilted your head slightly, heart hammering against your ribs. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the faint curve of a smile you hadn’t dared to imagine.

Your hands rose almost instinctively, resting against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. He leaned in, slow, deliberate, giving you every moment to pull away, but you didn’t.

When your lips finally met, it was gentle at first, a tentative brush that sent shivers down your spine. Then, as if every doubt, every restraint melted away, the kiss deepened, soft, lingering, full of unspoken confessions. You pressed closer, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, into the reality you had longed for.

[strawberrystepmom]

yami x f!noble reader. post coitus walk down a strange memory lane. suggestive, sex happened. | divider by @cafekitsune, wc 1.3k

“Why do you have that?”

Yami looks up at you from the end of the bed, his arm dangling over the side while he finishes pulling it all the way up. 

“This?” 

He holds up the small linen square he was working on unfolding into a larger square and you nod. 

Furrowing his brows, he shrugs. “Because you gave it to me…?”

The hesitation in his voice brings a small, soft smile to your face. You reach for the handkerchief and he hands it over without so much as a grumble, placing it gently in the center of your palm just as you did for him the day it became his. There would never be any denying this once belonged to you considering your initials and hand embroidery are slightly unraveled yet still stitched in the corner of the fabric. 

More than five years ago, a fresh faced newly minted noblewoman boldly pressed her favor into his hand. He was merely a Magic Knight back then, not yet designated with the honor of Captain. There’s no telling, then or now, what you were attempting to achieve with the move other than to get under his skin but it worked well enough that he has kept the reminder of you in his pocket ever since. 

For a moment, Yami debates asking for it back, simply to keep a piece of something that belongs to him and only him. A secret token of affection he should have parted with but has never quite found himself able to. It has been on battlefields with him. It has traveled deep in his pocket to neighboring countries and towns, up a lava filled mountain and back down. 

There’s history stored in the tidy stitches, even if you weren’t there to see it happen. And there is no longer any way to effectively hide what the insinuation meant to him. 

“Are you satisfied that it’s the genuine article now, your highness?” 

You glance up from the fabric in your hands and toward him, the pinched skin between his brows deepening with every passing second. The incorrect title is enough to indicate that you’ve managed to strike a nerve and the look on his face only solidifies it. Giggling, you lean in and press it into his hand just as you did years ago. 

“Passes my inspection although I wish I could go back and tell the younger me that her stitching needs work.” 

Your thumb lingers against the center of his palm. Yami sighs, aware that a barrage of questions is coming judging solely from the look on your face - those twinkling eyes and that deceptively innocent smirk.

“You’re under no obligation to answer me of course, but if I may, how have you managed to keep something so delicate intact for so long? I didn’t exactly put my best effort into making it a piece to be kept forever.”

Chuckling, he leans back down across the bed on his side. His bare chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, dark strands falling over his face messily. You reach out and push the hair away, exposing gray eyes and sharpened features, the same ones you first found yourself drawn to all those years ago, only slightly different. The breath in his chest stills for a moment when you glance down at him, cheek pressed against your knees which are quilt covered and pulled against your chest.

“Everything alright down there, Captain?”

When the two of you first started sleeping together he confidently assumed he could keep the whole ‘I remember you very fondly from every conversation we’ve ever had, no matter how brief’ situation under wraps. You’ve spent years passing by one another, two ships off to other destinations but sharing the water for enough time to get used to the weather. Only the fortuitous hand of fate can explain how the two of you ended up in the same tavern, on the same night, sending you both on a trail that has led here. 

Shaking his head, he smiles up at you, propping his head up with his fist. “Yup.” Popping the ‘p’ sound, he exhales a heavy sigh. 

What can he say that won’t make him sound either creepy or foolish? It’s not like he has spent years pining over you, he’s too busy for something as nonsensical as that, but he’d be lying if he were to insinuate it has been sitting forgotten in his pocket. There’s a blood stain on the upper left corner from when he wiped his nose with it after a fierce competitor got the best of him up close. It’s slightly discolored, off-white from years of rubbing against the dark leather of his pants. 

“I’ve never seen any reason to get rid of a gift someone else has given me, why would this be any different? Besides, sometimes a man just wants something that reminds him of home when he’s on the road.” 

Smirking, you gradually slide your legs beneath the covers and join him in lying down. Shifting to your side, you keep your hand extended to finger comb his hair back from his face.

“So you’re saying I make you think of home?”

Sukehiro is no stranger to women or their wiles and charms but you have always been somewhat unique compared to your peers. Bolder than most women he’s ever met, the perfect mixture of sharp tongued and soft hearted. Memorable and not just for the admirable beauty that has won you suitors and friends, allies and enemies alike. 

He harrumphs. You giggle in the way that makes the bridge of your nose scrunch, irresistible to a man that hasn’t been able to find a place to store all of that fondness outside of his pants pocket. Reaching toward you, he squeezes your nose gently which makes you laugh and distracts you long enough he doesn’t have to dignify your question with a response. 

Feelings are tricky, after all. It’s why he stays away from them.

“Are you gonna let me clean you up or not?” He asks, remembering why he pulled the kerchief from his pocket to start with. You shimmy closer to him, leaning to press the tip of your nose against his. “I don’t know. Are you going to answer my question or not?”

He peels the quilt back from your body with a smirk, ignoring you completely. You make no moves to actually prevent him from doing so, even staying still and patient when he gently pulls your thighs apart. The handkerchief makes its way between your legs, carefully and tenderly sopping up the mess of your release and his that has left your folds glossy and sticky. 

“Yeah, you do remind me of home. That there’s something worth protecting around here, at the very least.” 

The honesty pierces you and the comfortable quiet in one well aimed shot. An unexpected and slightly awkward laugh leaves you, mouth hanging open and shutting as quickly as possible, visibly taken aback. The corners of your lips twitch and your mind races, struggling to find the right thing to say which is almost unheard of for you. 

“All done.” 

Yami holds out the damp and sticky cloth for your review. Giggling, you scrunch your nose again. He laughs while tossing it on the floor with his clothes, making a mental note to wash it so he doesn’t pull it out of his pocket still crusty. Not that it would be the first time.

He rolls over onto his back, lying down by your side once again. Your hand easily finds its natural home in the strands of hair in front of his face, petting them backward.

“I’m relieved you kept it.” You finally admit, now that you can look into his eyes and say it. “I always wondered what you thought of me doing it in the first place.”

Sighing, he turns his head fully to look at you.

“I’ve never been one to turn down a free gift from a pretty girl. My manners aren’t that bad.”

Tugging on the strands of his hair between your fingers, you laugh and shake your head.

“Go to bed, Yami.” 

He leans in and smiles against your mouth, kissing you.

“After you.”

[yamiswinebottle]

seven minutes in heaven || yami x reader

no warnings, just a bit suggestive :3

“We’re captains. We shouldn’t be playing these stupid games-“

“Oh, looks like it landed on you and Yami, Strictly.”

Nozelle’s nickname for you would’ve made you protest, if it wasn’t for the other captains cheering for you and Yami to get in the closet. 7 Minutes in Heaven was the game of the night for this week, which you found absolutely ridiculous. You were all adults, yet you found yourselves so bored that you had to play a teenager’s game? Honestly.

You grumbled and crossed your arms as you were pushed into the tight space with your coworker. “This is so stupid… Grown adults playing kid’s games like we’ve never had our first kiss…”

Basically chest to chest, you had nowhere to run. You could barely even turn your head from him in mock disgust. However, you could feel the beat of his heart hammering against your own, breaths falling heavy past his lips.

“You know, Yami,” you started, a smirk playing on the corner of your lips, “From the way you were breathing, I’d say you’re nervous.” Of course, you hadn’t really thought this, only wanting to psyche him out— however, the hitch in his breath told you there was more honesty behind your words than you had previously thought.

“Yah, because a guy who has cut countless enemies in half with one Dark Slash is nervous in a closet with a… nice looking person,” he mocked. Though he was smug and nonchalant, you could tell that there was something he was hiding. Something he wasn’t telling you…

“Then prove it,” you challenged, not wanting to back down now, “Kiss me.”

That took you both off guard. Under his intense gaze, you began to backtrack. “Wait, I mean- if you want—“

“Oh,” he started, “I want.” As the words came out of his mouth, confusing the hell out of you, suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around your middle, pressing you two flush together. If there was room to breathe before, there was definitely none now. Sharp breaths fell past your lips, Yami’s hand getting dangerously close to fondling your ass. “Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn all the time, you’d be able to see what’s in front of you.”

“Yami~” Gods, maybe if you had gotten some action in the last year you wouldn’t have moaned out his name with just a light touch to your ass. However, the lack of attention to your crotch made you squeeze your legs together in need of friction and focus. And what did he mean that you were blind to what was in front of your face? You couldn’t even think about the meaning of his words right now. His body was way too damn distracting!

“Shit, your hands are fucking huge…” You hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but there was no stopping you now. All shame had flown out the window.

“Oh, I’ll show you just what these huge hands can do—“

“Alright, times up! Oh, someone’s gotten a bit comfortable now haven’t we?”

You grumbled as you passed Nozelle on the way out, followed by a cooler than a cucumber Yami with his hands behind his head, smirking. He knew where he’d be visiting tonight.

And he knew you’d be waiting for him outside your team’s castle to lead him up to your room, too.

[acrimson-embrace]

Sticky Notes

Plot: You decide to leave positive affirmations behind.

Pairings: reader x Law / reader x Shanks / reader Mihawk

A/N: Silly shorts

LAW

The first note appeared on Law’s desk three days after you decided he was too grumpy for his own good.

Law noticed it immediately.

In your handwriting:

Today is a great day to do your best!

Law’s expression did not change.

Behind him, the Polar Tang hummed quietly through the water.

He picked up the note.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered.

He crumpled it.

Then paused.

Then uncrumpled it.

Then stared at it again.

Today is a great day to do your best!

It was not.

He opened the top drawer of his desk.

He put the note in the drawer.

Then he shut it very firmly.

—————

After that, you got worse.

Not dramatically.

Just enough to make him suffer.

A blue note on the inside of his office door:

You are capable of amazing things!

A pink note on his favorite medical text:

Believe in yourself!

A green note on the coffee tin:

Your attitude determines your direction!

Law took that one personally.

He found you in the galley ten minutes later, note in hand.

You were making tea.

He held it up.

You looked at it.

Then at him.

“That one felt relevant.”

“My attitude is fine.”

“You threatened to throw Shachi overboard because he hummed near your office.”

“He was off-key.”

“He was happy.”

“He was loud.”

“You see how this supports my point?”

Law’s jaw shifted.

Across the galley, Shachi made a choking sound into his cup.

Law did not turn his head. “Leave.”

Shachi stood immediately. “Yep.”

Penguin followed him out, whispering, “Your attitude determines your direction.”

“Penguin.”

“Gone, Captain.”

The door slid shut.

You were still smiling when Law looked back at you.

“This is a waste of paper,” he said.

“It’s brightening your workspace.”

“My workspace does not need brightening.”

You gave him a kind look. “That is exactly what someone with a dark, emotionally hostile workspace would say.”

His eyes narrowed.

—————

By the second week, the crew started looking for them.

That was when Law’s patience began to crack.

Shachi found one on the infirmary cabinet that said:

Every day is a fresh start!

He read it aloud in a bright, dramatic voice.

Law appeared in the doorway.

Shachi froze.

“What,” Law said, “are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Don’t.”

“It was on the cabinet.”

“It wasn’t for you.”

The room went silent.

You looked up from the bandages.

Penguin looked at Shachi.

Shachi looked at Penguin.

Bepo covered his mouth with both paws.

Law realized what he had said approximately one second too late.

His face did not change.

But his ears went red.

You turned very slowly back to the bandages.

A smile crawled across your face.

—————

Later, you found the note tucked inside one of Law’s medical books.

Just placed there like a bookmark.

You stood beside his desk, fingers resting on the page, staring at your own handwriting.

Every day is a fresh start!

You should not have felt so warm about it.

It was a ridiculous note.

A terrible note.

The kind of thing printed on a poster in a waiting room beside a fake plant.

But Law had kept it.

Law, who called them meaningless.

Law, who claimed they were clutter.

Law, who apparently did not want Shachi reading them because they were not for him.

You heard footsteps behind you.

“You’re snooping,” Law said.

You turned.

“You left it in a book on your desk.”

“That is not an invitation.”

“It was my note.”

“It was on my cabinet.”

“That I put there.”

“For me.”

The words landed between you.

Neither of you moved.

Law’s mouth tightened.

You looked down because looking at him was suddenly difficult.

“For you,” you repeated quietly.

He was silent.

The ship creaked around you, low and familiar.

You shut the book carefully. “I’ll stop leaving them in public places.”

Law looked at you.

You could feel it.

You made yourself keep going. “Since they’re apparently private.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no bite in it.

You moved past him toward the door.

Law looked down at you.

Then he said, low, “The public ones are irritating.”

Your heart kicked.

You glanced up. “And the private ones?”

His eyes held yours.

“Less irritating.”

Your smile started before you could stop it.

“Wow,” you said. “That’s practically a love confession coming from you.”

Law’s face went flat. “Don’t push it.”

Two days later, you found a pale blue sticky note on your own door.

The handwriting was sharp. Controlled. Familiar.

Your methods are annoying.

You stared at it.

Then, underneath, in smaller letters:

They are not ineffective.

You peeled the note from your door carefully.

Law slowed, just slightly.

You folded it once.

Then again.

Then tucked it into your pocket.

His eyes flicked to the movement.

You smiled softer this time. “I’m keeping it.”

Law looked away.

“Do what you want,” he said.

So you did.

SHANKS

The first note appeared on the galley door.

You are capable of amazing things!

Lucky Roux found it before breakfast, stared at it for a long moment, then opened the door and yelled, “Who thinks I’m amazing?”

“You made eggs,” Hongo said from the table.

Lucky pressed a hand to his chest. “I feel seen.”

After that, the notes spread.

One on the main mast:

Every day is a fresh start!

Yasopp read it aloud, then looked out at the gray sky and the choppy sea.

“Feels accusatory.”

“It means be positive,” you said.

“It means I have to do chores again.”

One on Beckman’s rifle case:

You’ve got this!

Beckman peeled it off, looked at you across the deck, and said, “I know.”

“You’re supposed to feel encouraged.”

“I am encouraged by competence.”

“You’re welcome.”

He stuck the note back on the case anyway.

Rockstar found his on a barrel near the rigging.

Believe in yourself!

He stood a little taller for the rest of the morning.

By noon, he had tried to give three dramatic speeches and volunteered for a task no one had assigned.

Beckman took the note away.

“Hey,” Rockstar said. “That was helping.”

“That was the problem.”

Hongo found one on the infirmary cabinet.

Your hard work matters!

He stared at it, then looked at the medical supplies he had just organized.

“Hm.”

That was all he said.

But he left it there.

Yasopp found another near the cannons.

Your attitude determines your direction!

He turned it sideways.

Then upside down.

Then called across the deck, “Does this mean I’m allowed to avoid work if my attitude says no?”

“No,” Beckman said.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did. No.”

Shanks loved the whole thing.

Of course he did.

He kept finding notes and bringing them to you like treasures.

“Look,” he said, holding up a pink one. “I am the captain of my own happiness.”

“You are the captain of the ship.”

“I can be both.”

“You are barely one.”

He grinned at you, delighted. “That felt personal.”

“It was encouraging.”

“It was rude.”

“It was accurate.”

His grin only widened.

By evening, most of the crew had at least one note. Some had kept theirs. Some had traded. Lucky had three stuck to his hat. Yasopp had added one to Beckman’s coat that said Smile! It looks good on you! and then fled for his life.

You were cleaning up when you found one last sticky note on the inside of your cabin door.

It was red.

Not yours.

The handwriting was Shanks’s.

Meet me in my cabin tonight?

You stared at it.

Then stared harder.

Behind you, the doorframe creaked.

Shanks leaned there, smiling like he had contributed something meaningful to the ship’s emotional well-being.

“Encouraging, right?”

Your face went warm. “That is not an affirmation.”

“No?” His grin widened. “I felt encouraged writing it.”

“Mine say things like Believe in yourself.”

“I do believe in myself.” His eyes flicked to the note. “That’s why I asked.”

Your mouth twitched.

He noticed, of course.

Shanks leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flip.

“So?” he asked. “Should I expect you?”

Mihawk

The first sticky note appeared on the breakfast table.

Bright green.

Cheerful.

Offensive.

Mihawk stopped beside his chair and looked down at it.

Today is full of possibilities!

He looked at you.

“What is this?”

“Encouragement.”

“It is paper.”

“It’s a positive affirmation.”

“It is a visual disturbance.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mihawk lifted the note between two fingers and examined it with cool displeasure.

“I do not require a square of adhesive paper to inform me that time continues.”

“It’s supposed to make you more positive.”

“I am positive.”

You smiled into your tea.

He did not throw the note away.

That was your first victory.

—————

After that, you became worse.

Tastefully worse, in your opinion.

A pink note on the wine cabinet:

You deserve nice things!

Mihawk peeled it off and said, “I am aware.”

A blue note on his favorite armchair:

Rest is productive!

That one annoyed him most.

“I rest adequately,” he said.

“You read reports in that chair.”

“That is restful.”

“You sharpened a knife in it last night.”

“That was also restful.”

“You see how this supports my point?”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

You smiled.

He kept the note on the side table.

—————

Perona discovered them by lunch. She floated through the hall holding one that said:

You bring light into the world!

“Did you give this to him?” she demanded.

“Yes.”

She looked horrified. “Why?”

“To improve his mood.”

Perona stared at you.

Then at Mihawk, who was silently removing a purple note from the mantle.

Then back at you.

“He’s going to retaliate.”

“He wouldn’t.”

Mihawk’s eyes lifted.

Perona drifted closer and whispered, “He absolutely would.”

—————

The retaliation came that evening.

You found a sticky note on your bedroom door.

It was black.

Of course it was black.

The handwriting was elegant and precise.

Your optimism is persistent.

You stared.

“That is not an affirmation,” you called down the hall.

Mihawk stood at the far end with a glass of wine in hand.

“It affirms your lack of restraint.”

You pressed your lips together.

He looked far too satisfied with himself.

—————

By the end of the week, the castle was covered in bright squares.

Not many.

Mihawk removed most of them.

But never immediately.

That was the important part.

You caught him reading one beside the window.

You are enough!

“This one is particularly vague,” he said, placing the note carefully on the windowsill instead of throwing it away.

You looked at him.

He looked back, calm as ever.

“You like them,” you said.

“I tolerate them.”

“You keep them.”

“I study my opponent’s methods.”

“I’m your opponent?”

His mouth curved faintly.

“In this matter, regrettably.”

You tried not to smile.

Failed.

Mihawk saw, of course.

His gaze dipped briefly to your mouth, then returned to your eyes with infuriating composure.

The next morning, you found another black note on your teacup.

Your smile is dangerously persuasive.

You stared at it until your face warmed.

Across the table, Mihawk calmly buttered his toast.

“Encouraging, isn’t it?” he asked.

[acrimson-embrace]

PROCEDURES FOR WHEN CAPTAIN SHANKS IS IN LOVE

Plot: Yasopp, who was definitely not snooping, discovered a binder in Beckman’s office. And reading is always good for the soul, right?

A/N: pure nonsense. I needed a pick me up.

The binder was not hidden.

That was the first insult.

It sat on Benn Beckman’s desk in plain view, wedged between a stack of supply reports and a half-empty tin of tobacco.

Yasopp saw it while looking for matches.

He was not snooping.

Technically.

The spine of the binder was black, the label neat, square, and written in Beckman’s unmistakably severe hand.

PROCEDURES FOR WHEN SHANKS IS IN LOVE

Yasopp stared.

Then he looked over his shoulder.

The hallway was empty.

He stared again.

“No,” he whispered.

The binder remained there.

“Yes,” he whispered back to himself.

He opened it.

The first page read:

This document exists because Captain Shanks cannot be trusted to experience private emotion without creating operational consequences.

Yasopp pressed a hand over his mouth.

The next line was worse.

Current subject of romantic fixation: [ Y/N ]

“Oh, captain,” Yasopp breathed, delighted. “You poor bastard.”

TABS:

1. Staring Problem

Documented incidents include:

Shanks staring across the deck for so long that three crewmen looked behind them to see if there was an incoming ship.

2. Unnecessary Territory Expansion

Warning signs include phrases such as:

“Strategically useful island.”

“Good harbor.”

“Worth looking into.”

“Not because they mentioned it. Obviously.”

3. Gifts That Are Actually Courtship Displays

Examples include rare maps, impossible-to-find fruit, jewelry he claims is “just practical,” and one “very normal” compass that cost more than a small ship.

4. Do Not Let Him Make Speeches While Drunk

Emergency protocol: remove alcohol, remove audience, remove target if present, and under no circumstances allow the captain to say, “You know what I admire about them?”

5. Sudden Captainly Competence

Occurs when the target is watching.

Symptoms include perfect posture, sharper orders, unnecessary coat adjustments, and battlefield decisions made with an irritating amount of charm.

6. Horizon Brooding

Different from normal horizon brooding.

Normal brooding: geopolitical.

Romantic brooding: pathetic.

And then Yasopp adds:

7. Yearning

Under it, he writes:

See: all previous tabs.

Then Lucky finds it and adds:

8. Feeding Schedule During Emotional Turbulence

Because the Chief forgets to eat when he is trying to look unaffected.

Then Hongo adds:

9. Medical Notes: Chief Is Not Dying, He Is Embarrassed

Then Rockstar adds, in very careful handwriting:

10. What To Do If Chief Asks If He Is Being Obvious

The only instruction beneath it:

Lie. Badly.

[acrimson-embrace]

Drunken Scenarios — Shanks

Read: MIHAWK | LAW | KID

Don’t mind me. Just going through my drafts.

Shanks got affectionate when he drank.

“You know,” he said, leaning closer, “I had a whole speech planned.”

You looked at him over your drink. “Did you?”

“Mhm.”

“What happened to it?”

He tapped his temple with one finger. “Rum.”

You laughed, and his smile widened like he had won something.

“That laugh.” His voice dropped lower, warm and pleased. “I like that laugh.”

“You like a lot of things when you’re drunk.”

“I like a lot of things when I’m sober too.” He moved closer. “You. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

His brows lifted. “Entirely, then. Since you’re being difficult.”

“You’re very charming tonight.”

“I’m very charming every night.” He paused, considering. “Tonight I’m just honest faster.”

You tried not to smile. Failed.

Shanks noticed immediately. His fingers traced your shoulder, light and lazy, before settling.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured.

Your stomach dipped, ridiculous and helpless.

“You’re drunk,” you said, quieter now.

“I am,” he agreed easily. His gaze moved over your face, not hiding a single bit of the fondness there. “Still know you’re pretty.”

“That’s your great observation?”

“No.” He leaned in until his mouth was near your ear. “My great observation is that I’m the luckiest bastard in this whole sea because you let me come home to you.”

The teasing left you for a moment.

Shanks pulled back just enough to look at you, his smile smaller now. Sweeter.

“You mean that?” you asked.

“Baby,” he said, soft and certain, “I mean it sober. I just say it prettier drunk.”

You smiled and kissed him softly.

The crew erupted into whistles from across the tavern.

Shanks smiled against your mouth.

“See?” he murmured. “They agree.”

[acrimson-embrace]

A Captain’s Chair

Shanks x Female Reader

Based on anon request

Plot: Shanks comes back wounded. A fight over secrets reveals a harsh truth.

They had been gone since morning.

A meeting, Shanks had said.

Just a meeting.

He had kissed your temple before he left, easy and warm. Beckman had been waiting at the gangplank. Yasopp had been checking his rifle.

You should have known then.

But Shanks had smiled at you and said, “Don’t look like that. Boring business. I’ll be back before you miss me.”

Now, hours later, the crew was not looking at you.

Your fingers tightened around the folded sailcloth in your lap. You had been helping with repairs to keep your hands busy.

A shadow moved at the gangplank.

Beckman came up first.

His cigarette was unlit between his teeth. There was a shallow cut along his cheek, not serious, but fresh enough that the blood had not fully dried.

Behind him came Yasopp, expression grim in a way that sat wrong on his face.

Lucky followed, one hand pressed to his upper arm, though he was still walking well enough.

Then Shanks stepped onto the deck. His right hand moved toward his side and stopped before it got there.

You stood.

Shanks saw you immediately.

His expression changed before anyone else could notice. The strain tucked itself away. His mouth curved. His shoulders relaxed like he had only just remembered he was supposed to look casual.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Miss me?”

No.

No, not like that.

You stepped toward him.

Beckman looked away first, and something inside your chest went cold.

“What happened?”

Shanks’s smile stayed where it was. “Nothing worth making that face over.”

Your gaze dropped.

There was blood on his shirt.

Not a lot. A dark tear along his left side, below the ribs, where someone had wrapped cloth around him in a hurry.

Your stomach turned.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It looks worse than it is.”

A few men shifted nearby. Shanks glanced at them, then back at you. Still calm.

“Hongo’s waiting,” he said. “I’m going.”

“You need stitches.”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

His smile flickered.

There. For half a heartbeat, you saw the pain under it. The exhaustion. The edge of anger too, not at you, but at the situation.

Then it vanished.

“Definitely, then,” he said lightly. “Better?”

You stared at him.

He had the nerve to tilt his head.

It was such a Shanks thing to do. Charming. Warm. Infuriating. A man bleeding through his shirt and still acting like the worst part of the night was your concern.

“What happened?” you asked again.

“Meeting got unfriendly.”

“You said it was boring business.”

“It was. Right up until it wasn’t.”

There was the joke.

Small. Easy. Meant to soften the moment. Meant to turn the fear aside before it could become anything sharper.

It snapped something in you.

“Do not do that.”

Shanks blinked.

“Do what?”

“Smile at me like I’m supposed to be charmed out of noticing you lied.”

His smile fell.

“I didn’t lie.”

“You told me it was a meeting.”

“It was a meeting.”

“With knives?”

Yasopp made a small sound under his breath.

Lucky looked down.

Beckman’s cigarette remained unlit between his fingers.

Shanks’s gaze sharpened.

“Started as one.”

“And you knew it could turn.”

He did not answer quickly enough.

You looked past him. At Beckman. At Yasopp. At Lucky.

Your voice dropped.

“Who knew?”

Beckman moved half a step. “Boss.”

Shanks did not look at him.

You did.

“Did you know?”

Beckman’s silence answered before his mouth could.

You almost smiled. It would have been ugly. “So everyone knew.”

Shanks’s face had gone still in a way you hated. Not calm. Controlled.

Captain’s face.

That made it worse.

“Sweetheart,” he said.

“Don’t.”

His jaw tightened.

“You tell me just enough to keep me quiet. You touch my face, call me sweetheart, make some charming little joke, and I’m supposed to believe that means I’m included.”

Shanks’s face changed.

“Careful.”

The word cracked across the deck. Low. Quiet. Dangerous.

Your heart kicked once.

Not from fear.

From fury.

“Why?” you asked. “Did I finally find something true?”

Beckman’s eyes closed briefly.

Shanks took one step toward you. The movement pulled at his side. But he kept coming until there was only a little space left between you.

“You don’t get to make me part of your life only when it is easy,” you said.

Something in his face broke. Only for a moment. Then pride closed over it.

“You knew what my life was when you came aboard.”

The words were quiet.

They still cut.

You stared at him.

“I knew it was dangerous,” you said. “I didn’t know that meant I had to be grateful for whatever scraps of truth you gave me.”

The words hit. You knew they did.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“I think I do.”

“No,” he said, voice dropping. “You know what I let you see. Don’t pretend that means you know the rest.”

That one hurt. He had aimed it to.

You felt it land exactly where he wanted. Your throat tightened, but you refused to look away.

“Thank you,” you said.

His brows drew together.

“For finally being honest.”

His face flickered.

“That wasn’t—”

“No, it was.” Your voice shook now. “That was the first honest thing you’ve said all night.”

“You want honesty?” he snapped.

“Yes.”

“Fine.” His right hand clenched at his side, then loosened. “People die when they stand too close to me. So forgive me if I don’t hand you every ugly thing just because you want to feel included.”

Your breath caught.

The words seemed to hang there, ugly and raw.

He saw your face change.

“You are so afraid of being left,” you said, “that you make people feel stupid for staying.”

His face twisted.

“Don’t.”

“You keep the door open and call it freedom.”

“I said don’t.”

“No. You keep it open so you never have to admit you wanted someone to choose you.”

For one second, he looked wrecked. Then he did the worst possible thing.

His mouth hardened. “Don’t mistake my bed for a captain’s chair.”

Everything stopped.

You felt the words enter you slowly. You saw the moment he heard himself.

His eyes changed.

Your name left his mouth, low and immediate.

You stepped back.

He reached for you.

You looked at his hand.

The deck was full of men who would have followed him into hell and none of them seemed able to breathe.

You looked back at Shanks. Your voice, when it came, was very calm. “Don’t worry,” you said. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

His face went pale beneath the flush of anger. You turned away.

“Wait.”

You kept walking. Behind you, his boots hit the deck.

“Sweetheart—”

Then Beckman moved. He did not grab him. He did not make a show of it. He simply stepped into Shanks’s path.

Shanks stopped inches from him.

“Move.”

Beckman did not.

You stopped too, one hand on the doorframe leading below deck.

Shanks’s voice dropped into something dangerous. “Stay out of it.”

Beckman did not blink. “I did,” he said. “That was my mistake.”

The words hit the deck almost as hard as Shanks’s had.

Shanks stared at him. For a second, you thought he might shove past him. But Beckman did not move.

And Shanks, bleeding and furious and finally afraid in a way he could not hide, stayed where he was.

You looked at him one last time.

“I’m leaving the ship.”

The words were quiet.

They still cut through the deck like a blade.

Shanks went still.

Your name left his mouth, barely more than breath. You turned away before he could make it sound like a plea.

The stairs blurred as you descended. No one followed. No one called after you.

You stood in the doorway and stared at the room like you expected it to tell you what to do.

It did not.

So you moved.

Your bag was under the bed. You dragged it out with too much force, and it struck your ankle hard enough to hurt. You barely felt it.

Clothes first.

Your comb went in. The little purse you kept hidden behind the loose board beneath your trunk. The knife Beckman had given you after you complained about not having a decent blade small enough for your hand.

That almost stopped you.

You held it for a moment, thumb against the worn leather sheath.

Beckman had not smiled when he gave it to you. He had only said, “Don’t tell the boss. He’ll get sentimental.”

You swallowed hard and put it in the bag.

You wiped your face with the heel of your hand, angry at yourself for crying now, when the worst of it was already done.

You closed the bag.

It was not full.

That felt worse.

You had come onto the Red Force with so little. Somehow, leaving with little felt like proof that you had never really belonged here at all.

Your hand moved to the latch.

Then stopped.

On the small shelf above your bed was the shell Shanks had picked up for you on a nothing island with white sand and water so clear it had looked unreal. He had presented it to you with ridiculous seriousness, as if he had recovered treasure.

“For your collection,” he had said.

“I don’t have a collection.”

“You do now.”

You stared at it.

Then you took it and put it in your bag.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and opened the door.

The hallway was empty.

The crew knew better than to stand in your way. They knew better than to comfort you. They knew better than to look at you with pity where you might see it.

That was Shanks too, somehow.

His ship. His people. His silence spreading through all of them.

You walked back up the stairs.

The night air hit your face cold. The deck had emptied.

The gangplank waited ahead.

And so did Shanks.

He stood several feet from it, no coat, fresh bandage wrapped tight beneath the torn fabric at his side. Hongo had done his work. Shanks looked steadier now.

Worse, somehow.

It was easier to be angry when he was bleeding.

Harder when he stood there pale and quiet and stripped of every easy smile he usually hid behind.

He did not move toward you.

You stopped at the top of the gangplank.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Shanks said your name.

Not sweetheart.

Not love.

Your name.

It nearly broke you.

You tightened your hand on the strap of your bag. “Don’t.”

His jaw flexed.

“I’m not going to stop you.”

You let out a small, humorless breath. “How generous.”

He took that because he deserved it. You saw him take it. Saw the flinch he tried to hide and failed.

“I’m not,” he said again. “If you want to go, I won’t put a hand on you.”

“You already did enough.”

His eyes closed briefly.

When he opened them, the rawness in his face was almost worse than the anger had been.

“I know.”

You looked away.

The gangplank looked longer than it had a moment ago.

“I said something unforgivable,” he said.

Your throat tightened. “Yes.”

“I don’t expect you to make it easier on me.”

“Good.”

“But I need you to hear me before you leave.” His voice roughened. You looked back at him despite yourself.

Shanks swallowed.

“I was afraid.”

The words came out low.

You stared at him.

He breathed in carefully, like it hurt.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to come back and have you smile at me. I wanted the warm part without giving you the ugly part first. I wanted you to trust me without giving you enough reason to.”

Your eyes burned.

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

The deck was quiet around you.

A tear slipped down your cheek.

Shanks saw it. His face broke. “I’m sorry,” he said.

It was not charming. Not smooth. Not enough.

It was only honest.

“You made me feel like I was foolish for loving you.”

His eyes shone in the lamplight.

“I know.”

The answer was so quiet that for a second you could not speak.

Shanks looked at your bag.

Then back at you.

“I love you.”

Everything in you stopped.

He did not dress it up. Did not soften it with a grin. Did not reach for you while he said it.

“I love you,” he said again, and this time his voice nearly gave out. “And I’ve been hiding behind every noble excuse I could find. I kept telling myself I was giving you freedom. That if you ever wanted to leave, I’d let you.” His mouth pulled bitterly. “Truth is, I kept the door open because I was terrified of asking you to stay.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

Shanks held your gaze.

“So I’m asking now.”

The wind moved over the deck. Somewhere, a line creaked softly.

He looked terrified.

Not dramatic. Not broken open for show. Just a man standing in front of the one person who could ruin him by walking away.

“Stay,” he said.

Your chest hurt.

“Shanks.”

“I know I don’t deserve it tonight.”

“No,” you whispered. “You don’t.”

He nodded once. The words hit him, but he did not argue.

“I know,” he said. “Stay anyway. Not because I asked well. Not because I’m bleeding.” His voice dropped. “Stay because I will do better. Because I don’t want to keep hurting you every time I get scared.”

You stared at him through the blur in your eyes.

He took another careful breath.

“And if you leave, I won’t follow you down that gangplank. I won’t make it harder.” His voice cracked on the last word. “But I need you to know that I want you here. Not sometimes. Not when it’s easy. Here. With me.”

Silence.

Your bag felt too heavy.

So did your heart.

You looked past him at the ship. At the rail. At the lanterns. At the men who had become family before you had realized what was happening.

Then you looked at Shanks.

He stood exactly where he was.

Waiting.

Letting you choose, even though every inch of him looked like it was killing him.

Your voice came out small. “You hurt me.”

His face crumpled.

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can just forgive you.”

“I’m not asking you to do it tonight.”

Your fingers loosened on the strap.

His gaze dropped to the movement, then snapped back to your face like he was afraid to hope too soon.

You hated him for that.

You loved him for it.

You took one step back from the gangplank.

Shanks went utterly still.

“This doesn’t fix it,” you said.

“No.”

“And I’m not sleeping in your bed tonight.”

Pain crossed his face, but he nodded. “All right.”

“And tomorrow,” you said, voice unsteady now, “you are going to tell me what actually happened at that meeting. Not the charming version. Not the safe version. The truth.”

“Yes.”

“All of it.”

“Yes.”

You stared at him.

He looked like he wanted to reach for you more than he wanted to breathe.

He did not.

Slowly, you slipped the bag from your shoulder. It hit the deck between you with a soft, final sound.

Shanks exhaled like something inside him had given way.

You lifted your chin. “I’m still angry.”

His mouth moved like he almost had an answer for that. Then he thought better of it.

“Right,” he said quietly. “No charm.”

It was so quick, so unlike him, that a laugh almost broke out of you.

Almost.

Instead your face crumpled.

Shanks moved on instinct, then stopped himself so abruptly it clearly hurt his side.

That did it.

You closed the space between you and pressed your forehead to his chest, furious with yourself for needing him.

His breath left him.

Then his arm came around you, slow and shaking, giving you every chance to pull away.

You did not.

His hand settled against your back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

You closed your eyes.

“I know.”

His hold tightened, barely.

“I love you.”

“You are still sleeping alone.”

A rough sound left him. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You stayed there a moment longer.

Not fixed.

Not forgiven.

But still there.

For tonight, that was enough.

[acrimson-embrace]

Ficlet: Intimacy

Plot: Inspired by this post.

Pairings: GN Reader x Shanks/Law

Shanks

The room had gone cold sometime in the night.

You noticed it only because Shanks was warm

His was pressed against your back, one heavy arm around your waist. His breath moved slow against the back of your neck. In. Out. In again.

Without meaning to, you matched it.

You stirred a little.

Shanks tightened his arm at once.

“Mm,” he mumbled, not awake enough for words.

You smiled into the pillow. “I’m not leaving.”

His mouth brushed clumsily against your shoulder. Not quite a kiss. More like a sleepy attempt at one. Then another, softer, against the side of your neck.

“Good,” he breathed.

Your heart gave a strange, aching little turn.

You turned carefully in his hold. He made a disgruntled sound, but let you move, only to pull you closer the second you faced him. His red hair was loose over the pillow.

For a while, you only looked at him.

The man the world feared. The captain everyone followed. The Emperor who laughed too loudly, drank too much, and walked into chaos with a steady presence.

Here, he was warm. His face softened by the dark. His hand curled around your back.

You lifted your fingers and brushed the hair from his cheek.

Shanks leaned into your touch.

Still asleep.

The happiness of it was so small it hurt.

Not grand. Not loud. Just his breath against your wrist. His body warm under your hand.

You loved him.

It struck you so simply that you closed your eyes.

Shanks moved closer, his forehead coming to rest against yours. His lips touched yours once, barely there, a half-kiss lost between sleep and waking.

You tucked yourself against him.

His arm came around you again.

And warm, safe, and loved, you fell back asleep.

Law

The thin blanket over your legs had slipped sometime after midnight.

Law slept close.

His chest was against your back, one arm around your waist with his hand tucked against your ribs. His fingers had found themselves under the fabric of your shirt sometime in the night.

You felt his breathing first.

Slow. Even. So much calmer than he ever sounded awake.

You stayed still, listening to it.

In.

Out.

Then yours began to follow.

Your shared room was quiet. No footsteps in the corridor. No voices. Just Law warm against you in the dark.

His nose brushed the back of your neck when he shifted.

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

“Cold?” he murmured.

His voice was rough with sleep, barely there.

“A little.”

He made a low sound of disapproval. Then his arm pulled tighter, drawing you closer until your back fit against him more securely.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His fingers moved once over your ribs in a slow, absent stroke. His breathing evened again against your skin. You thought he had fallen back asleep until his mouth pressed lightly to the back of your shoulder.

One kiss.

Then another, clumsy and tired at the edge of your collar.

Your heart softened so quickly it almost hurt.

You turned carefully in his arms.

Law frowned before his eyes opened. But when he saw you, the look faded into something quieter. Something unguarded.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

You lifted a hand to his face instead. His hair had fallen across his forehead.

You brushed it back gently.

Law’s eyes slipped shut.

For once, he simply let himself be touched.

And there it was.

Happiness.

You loved him.

Not because he said enough. But because he reached for you in his sleep. Because his breathing slowed when you were near.

Law opened one eye. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“No.”

He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth.

It was not much. Just warmth. Just breath. Just him.

But when he pulled you closer, when your forehead rested beneath his chin and his hand rested on your back, it felt like everything.

You closed your eyes.

Law’s breathing found yours again.

And wrapped in the quiet, you fell asleep.

[acrimson-embrace]

The Inn

Series Masterlist

Plot: The one bed trope strikes again.

Shanks

The room had one bed.

Of course it did.

Behind you, Shanks leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and looked past you into the room.

There was a pause.

Then he said, “Well.”

You closed your eyes. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was taking in the accommodations.”

“You were about to make this worse.”

His mouth curved. “I might still.”

You turned to glare at him.

That was your first mistake.

Shanks looked far too pleased for a man who had spent the day negotiating with a mayor who kept pretending not to be afraid of him and getting soaked by a storm.

His red hair was damp and pushed back from his face. His cloak hung heavy over his shoulders.

He looked tired.

He also looked entertained.

That combination was dangerous.

“There is one bed,” you said.

“So I noticed.”

“One.”

“Sharp eye.”

“Shanks.”

He lifted his right hand in surrender. “I’d offer to sleep on the floor, but then you’d worry about me. I’m considerate that way.”

You stared at him.

He smiled.

Slow, easy, shameless.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

“Shanks.”

“Not the bed.” His eyes moved over your face. “Your expression.”

You walked into the room before he could see you smile.

The inn had been full because of the storm. The innkeeper had nearly fainted when he realized who Shanks was, then had offered the last room with panicked apologies.

Shanks had accepted with a polite smile.

You had accepted with the slow internal collapse of someone who had spent the last several months pretending your feelings for him were manageable.

They were not manageable.

They were inconvenient, badly timed, and becoming harder to hide every time he looked at you.

You set your bag beside the wall and looked around.

The bed sat against the far wall, larger than you expected but not large enough to make this harmless.

Nothing about Shanks in a bed could ever be harmless.

He stepped in behind you and shut the door.

Just you and Shanks.

And the bed.

Shanks glanced at it again.

You pointed at him. “Do not look amused.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Maybe.” He moved toward the table, unbuckling his sword belt with the casual confidence of a man utterly unaware—or far too aware—of the way your attention followed him.

You looked away quickly.

Not quickly enough.

Shanks noticed.

He set his sword within reach beside the bed. “You can have the wall side,” he said.

You glanced at him. “Why?”

“In case you feel safer.”

Something in your chest shifted.

He said it lightly. Almost carelessly. Like it was nothing.

“You always do that,” you said before you could stop yourself.

His brow lifted. “Do what?”

“Say things like they’re jokes when they’re not.”

For once, he did not answer immediately.

Then his smile returned, softer at the edges. “Can’t let you catch me being thoughtful. Ruins the reputation.”

“You have a reputation for being thoughtful?”

“I was hoping to start one tonight.”

You huffed a laugh.

His smile deepened.

After that, the room became full of small tasks.

Boots off. Hair shaken loose. Weapons placed within reach. Your damp shirt traded for the dry one from your bag.

When you came out of the bathroom, he had changed into a dry shirt too.

He caught you looking.

You looked away.

He did not tease you.

That was worse too.

“Well,” he said.

“If you say that again, I’m making you sleep in the hall.”

“With your concern for my comfort? I doubt it.”

“Shanks.”

He smiled, but it softened quickly. “We’re adults.”

You gave him a look. “That sounds like something someone says before making a terrible decision.”

“I’ve made plenty of those.”

“I know.”

You turned down the blanket on the wall side and climbed in before your nerves could turn the whole thing into a production. “Fine. Bed. Sleep. No making this weird.”

Shanks crossed the room with lazy amusement. “I would never.” He chuckled under his breath and sat on the edge of the mattress.

The bed dipped.

You became very interested in the wall.

Behind you, Shanks shifted, settling his weight with more care than he usually showed for anything involving his own comfort.

He was close.

Not too close.

He had left enough space between you to be respectful, but Shanks was not a small man, and the bed was not a large one.

You lay on your side facing the wall.

Shanks lay on his back beside you.

For several minutes, neither of you spoke.

You listened to the rain. To the inn settling. To Shanks’ breathing, slow and even enough that it almost convinced you he was relaxed.

Almost.

Then he said, “You were quiet tonight.”

Your eyes opened.

You had thought he might make another joke. Something about the bed. Something about you stealing the blankets. Something safe enough to bat away.

Not that.

“Was I?”

“Mm.”

“You were negotiating. I wasn’t needed.”

“You’re always needed.”

You swallowed.

He said it like nothing.

Again.

Like it did not land somewhere soft and stupid inside you.

“You had it handled,” you said.

“For the most part.”

“You got what you wanted.”

His silence made you wish you had chosen different words.

“Did I?” he asked.

It was quiet.

Almost too quiet to be Shanks.

You turned your head slightly, not enough to face him fully. “Didn’t you?”

“I got the mayor to stop taking bribes from a man who thought using our flag without permission was a clever idea,” Shanks said. “I got three ships released and an apology I didn’t believe.”

“That sounds successful.”

“It was.”

“But?”

“But you were quiet.”

You turned back toward the wall.

Your heart was doing something unhelpful.

“I was tired.”

“You were tired yesterday. You still called a dock clerk a mildew-brained extortionist.”

“He was.”

“He cried after you left.”

“He needed character development.”

Shanks laughed softly.

You shut your eyes.

“I was quiet,” you said, “because sometimes it’s strange watching people be afraid of you.”

The room changed.

Shanks did not move.

“Ah,” he said.

You regretted it immediately. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

You stopped.

His voice was gentle. No accusation in it. No wound he was asking you to soothe.

That made it harder.

You stared at the wall. “They look at you like they’re scared of you and charmed by you at the same time.”

Silence.

Then Shanks said, “And how do you look at me?”

You should have joked.

You should have said something careless. Something easy.

Instead, you lay there in the dark, facing the wall, and found you were too tired to lie properly.

“Like you’re still you,” you said.

Behind you, Shanks went very quiet.

“You shouldn’t say things like that in the dark,” he said.

Your chest tightened.

“Why?”

His answer took a moment.

“Harder to pretend I didn’t hear them.”

You turned over before you could think better of it.

Shanks was still on his back, but his head had turned toward you. His eyes were shadowed in the lamplight, his expression stripped of the usual performance.

Not empty.

Not guarded.

Careful in a way that did not suit him.

Or maybe it suited him too well, and you were only now close enough to see it.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked.

His gaze moved over your face.

“No,” he said.

Your breath caught.

His mouth curved faintly, but there was no humor in it. “But I’m trying to be decent.”

“That sounds difficult for you.”

That earned you the smallest huff of laughter.

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

Shanks looked at your mouth.

Then he looked back up at your eyes, and the restraint there was so clear it made your skin warm.

“You should sleep,” he said.

“That your solution?”

“Best one I’ve got tonight.”

“What’s the worst one?”

His expression shifted.

“Don’t ask me that,” he said softly.

You wondered what would happen if you reached for him.

You wondered if he would let you.

Then thunder rolled outside, low and distant.

You blinked first.

Shanks exhaled quietly and turned his eyes toward the ceiling again.

“Sleep,” he said.

This time, it sounded less like instruction and more like mercy.

You turned back onto your side, facing the wall.

Behind you, Shanks shifted onto his side too, facing your back but not touching you.

Eventually, exhaustion won.

And ruined everything.

You woke in the dark before dawn.

You were warm.

Too warm.

Your cheek rested against something solid.

Your hand was curled in fabric.

Your legs had drifted across the small space that had once separated you from Shanks, and at some point in the night, you had turned toward him completely.

You were tucked against his right side.

His arm was around you.

Your face was close to his chest, near enough that you could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing. His chin almost brushed your hair.

You froze.

Not because you wanted to move.

Because you did not.

That was the problem.

His arm curved around you like he had been made to hold you there. Your fingers tightened once in his shirt.

His hand moved slightly against your back.

You stopped breathing.

Then his voice came, rough with sleep and something else. “Morning.”

Your eyes closed.

Oh no.

He was awake.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him.

Shanks’ hair was a mess over the pillow. His face was softer with sleep, jaw shadowed, eyes heavy and open. He did not look surprised.

That was worse than anything.

“Were you awake?” you asked.

His gaze held yours.

There were a dozen answers he could have given. A joke. A denial.

He gave you none of them.

“For a little while,” he said.

Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.

His hand was still at your back.

His thumb moved once, barely there, an unconscious stroke against the fabric of your shirt.

Neither of you spoke.

“You didn’t wake me,” you said.

Shanks’ mouth curved faintly.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you looked comfortable,” he said.

Your throat tightened.

“That’s all?”

His smile faded.

His hand stilled against your back.

“No,” he said.

It landed between you with more force than a confession.

For once, he was not making this easier.

Maybe he could not.

Maybe he did not want to.

Your hand was still curled in his shirt.

You loosened your fingers.

Shanks noticed.

His gaze flicked down, then back to your face.

“You can move,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

You drew in a slow breath.

Then, carefully, before courage could abandon you, you touched him again.

Your fingers slid beneath the open edge of his shirt, slow enough that he could stop you, and rested against the warm skin over his heart.

His eyes changed.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said.

Your voice came out softer than you intended. “Do you want me to stop?”

He looked at you for a long moment.

His hand stayed at your back.

When he answered, it was almost too quiet.

“No.”

The word moved through you, slow and hot.

Then someone slammed a door downstairs.

Both of you froze.

Shanks shut his eyes.

You pressed your lips together.

The laugh escaped anyway. Small. Helpless. Half embarrassment, half relief.

His eyes opened again, and this time the smile that tugged at his mouth was real.

“Well,” he said, voice low, “that ruined the dramatic silence.”

You let out another breathless laugh.

His smile widened.

And just like that, the danger shifted shape. He gave you the escape after all.

Not because he did not want more.

Because morning was cruel, and the world downstairs was waiting, and whatever this was had become too real to handle carelessly.

His arm slipped from around you.

Shanks sat up first, running his right hand through his hair. It did very little to fix it. His shirt was rumpled where your fingers had been. He looked down at himself, then over at you.

You looked away too late.

He noticed.

“You slept well,” he said.

You sat up and reached for your bag. “Don’t sound so pleased with yourself.”

“I’m pleased with the bed.”

“The bed did nothing.”

“Strongly disagree.”

You threw a pillow at him.

He caught it easily against his side and laughed, low and warm and annoyingly beautiful in the gray morning light.

“Careful,” he said. “This innocent pillow has already been through a lot.”

“It deserves better company.”

“So do you.”

The words came out lightly.

You paused with your hand in your bag.

Shanks looked toward the window as if he had not said anything worth noticing.

There he was again.

Hiding sincerity inside jokes.

You watched him stand. His expression had settled into something composed, but not entirely.

Shanks opened the curtains and looked down at the street.

“Road’s passable,” he said.

“Good.”

“Harbor will be delayed until afternoon.”

“Also good.”

He glanced back. “Is it?”

You met his eyes.

There was the question beneath the question.

A little while longer in town.

A little while longer before the crew, before the noise, before the roles you both knew how to play slid back into place around you.

You swallowed.

“Yes,” you said. “It’s good.”

Shanks looked at you and smiled.

He reached for his cloak and settled it over his shoulders. Then he picked up your cloak from the chair and held it out to you.

You took it.

Your fingers brushed his.

Both of you stopped.

His thumb brushed once against your knuckle.

Then he let go.

You fastened your cloak with far too much attention.

Shanks picked up Gryphon and moved to the door.

He opened it, then paused.

For one reckless second, you thought he might say something. Something clear. Something that would make the room impossible to leave unchanged.

Instead, he looked back at you and said, “For the record, I was right.”

You blinked. “About what?”

His smile returned, slow and terrible.

“If I’d slept on the floor, you would have worried.”

You stared at him.

Then you walked past him into the hall. “I’m leaving you behind.”

“Cruel woman.”

He laughed under his breath and followed you out.

The harbor waited.

The road waited.

Neither of you talked about the bed.

Not yet.

[acrimson-embrace]

Cold Tea, Warm Embrace

Shanks x Reader

Based on anon request

Plot: You are not feeling well. Shanks takes care of you. Fluff and comfort.

Shanks came into the cabin and stopped at the door.

His smile faded at once.

You were sitting upright in bed with a blanket pulled around you, trying very hard to look less miserable than you felt.

He stood there and watched you for a moment. Your flushed face. Your tired eyes. The untouched cup of tea beside the bed.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently.

You looked away. “I’m fine.”

Shanks closed the door behind him and crossed the room.

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s nothing.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. Before you could protest, he pressed the back of his fingers to your forehead.

His expression softened.

“You’re warm.”

“I’m all right.”

“You don’t have to be all right with me.”

That quieted you.

Shanks watched your face for a moment, then leaned in and kissed your temple.

“Lie down,” he said.

“I don’t want to make a fuss.”

“You’re not making a fuss.”

“I know you have things to do.”

“Yes and right now that’s taking care of my wife.”

Your chest tightened.

He helped you settle back against the pillows. He did not rush you. He simply waited, steady and patient, then pulled the blanket up over you properly.

“There,” he said.

You sighed, then turned away to cough.

Shanks gently pulled your hair to the side so it wasn’t sticking to the side of your neck.

“I’ll get you fresh tea.”

“I can get it.”

“No.”

You opened one eye at him.

He smiled, but the look in his eyes stayed soft. “Let me take care of you.”

You were used to Shanks being warm and charming.

But this was different.

This was his hand gentle against your face. His voice lowered so he would not worsen your headache. His attention fixed entirely on you, as if nothing beyond this cabin mattered.

You caught his arm before he could stand.

He looked down at your hand.

“Stay for a minute?” you asked.

The answer came immediately.

“Of course, love.”

Shanks shifted onto the bed beside you and gathered you against him. He was warm, but not too much. Solid beneath your cheek. Familiar in a way that made your body loosen before your mind could argue.

You closed your eyes.

His hand moved slowly over your back.

“You always do this,” he said after a while.

“Do what?”

“Try to be less trouble than you are.”

You opened your eyes again. “That sounds insulting.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet. “You’re allowed to need things.”

“I don’t like needing things.”

“I know.”

His hand paused at the back of your neck, thumb smoothing lightly against your skin.

“But I like being the one you need.”

You did not have a good answer to that.

So you turned your face into his shirt instead.

Shanks kissed your hair.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Boss?” Hongo called. “Tea and medicine.”

Shanks did not move right away. “Leave it outside.”

There was a brief pause.

“Soup will be ready soon.”

“Thank you.”

The footsteps faded.

You looked up at him. “You told Hongo?”

“I asked him to make something gentle.”

“And Beck?”

“He saw my face when I came out of the cabin.”

You exhaled, half-amused despite how tired you were. “So everyone knows.”

“Only enough to be quiet.”

“That never works.”

“No,” he admitted, faintly fond. “But they try for you.”

That softened you more than you expected.

Shanks stepped away only long enough to bring in the tray. He returned with fresh tea, medicine, and a cool cloth.

You eyed the medicine.

“It smells terrible.”

“I know.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

You gave him a weak look.

He sat beside you again and held the small cup for you. “I’ll be very impressed.”

“You’re always impressed by me.”

“I am.”

There was no joke in it.

That made you take the medicine without another argument.

It tasted awful, but Shanks was ready with the tea. He helped you drink slowly, his hand steady under the cup. Honey and ginger warmed your throat, easing some of the soreness.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little.”

His expression eased.

He set the cup aside and laid the cool cloth across your forehead. Then he stayed there, brushing his fingers lightly along your hairline, your temple, your cheek.

You watched him through heavy eyes.

“You’re fussing.”

“Yes.”

He said it so simply that your chest ached again.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Your fingers found his hand. He turned his palm and held on.

“I hate being sick,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I feel useless.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel like I am.”

His expression softened with something deeper than sympathy.

Shanks leaned down until his forehead nearly touched yours.

“You don’t have to earn rest,” he said. “Not with me.”

Your eyes stung.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

That small smile came back. “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You closed your eyes, but you were smiling too.

He kissed your forehead again.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

“You promise?”

His hand tightened gently around yours.

“Always.”

You believed him.

It was easy to, when he was beside you like this. When the captain, the Emperor, the man the world whispered about with fear and awe, sat in the quiet of your cabin and worried over your tea going cold.

You shifted closer.

Shanks adjusted the blanket around you and tucked you against his side.

“There,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The words followed you down into sleep.

Not dramatic.

Not grand.

Just steady.

Just Shanks.

And for once, you let yourself be cared for.

[tralawre]

🧸ྀི akagami no shanks x f!reader, request here.

If Shanks was jealous, it wouldn’t be admitted openly, he’d hide it behind a glass of sake or a bottle and suddenly, everyone in the tavern, streets, wherever you were in his line of sight, having to deal with another man, would know exactly why he, Akagami no Shanks, was feared.

Take now for instance.

You were serving drinks to customers on behalf of the worker who sat with Beckman, her body pressed to his side as he drawls sweet nothings into her ear, lighting up a cigarette one after the other, needing nothing more than a good time to take the stress away.

Shanks knew you were too sweet to deny her request, but seeing you now, handing drinks to other men who wouldn’t have a chance in hell with you yet believing they did made him spiral into a fit of rage he didn’t even know he was basking in until Beckman opened his mouth.

“You’re doing it again.”

Shanks’ silence said enough.

You laughing at something someone said to you.

His jaw tick said enough.

To make matters worse, Shanks was experiencing phantom limb pain, and not having you near to soothe him was aggravating his soul.

“You,” Shanks says to the woman, not even sparing her a glance. “Get back to work. Now.”

The woman, thinking that it was a joke, laughed until Shanks looked at her and when he did, she got up, terrified. Beckman chuckled and she knew he wouldn’t defend her.

"Go to hell." She spat.

The pearl-grey smoke danced in the air as he spoke to her.

"I'm one foot there, darling."

Shanks watched as she made her way towards you, grabbed the trays, and got to work.

“Was I doing a bad job?” You call out, panicked.

“You were doing too good of a job.”

You laugh with a grin. “Oh, sorry about that.”

Shanks used his Haki to get you to look at him and when your gazes met and your grin softened into something meant for Shanks only, did he finally relax that night. He beckoned you closer and you comply.

You press a kiss to his scar over his eye, and he hummed. “Took you long enough.”

“Oh please,” You let out a tiny squeal when Shanks’ good arm went under your ass to hoist you onto his lap. “I was with you the entire day today. I was getting tired of you.”

You were teasing, he knew it, still he didn’t like hearing it.

“Hmm,” Shanks leans in. “You love me.”

“Do I?” You tease, leaning in.

Beckman rolled his eyes.

“Say it.”

You smile. “I love—”

His eyes softened.

“Me.”

He laughed. The sound reverberated throughout the tavern, and into your soul, and you capture the sound in a kiss. He melts into it, and presses your back to the table, drinks spilling everywhere.

“Alright,” Beckman looked at the spillage. “Take it easy you two."

He was ignored.

Beckman chuckled.

He was used to it.

[grandline-fics]

I'm so in love with your writing, I'd love to see the "one bed trope" from you! Maybe a little suggestive, as far as you're comfortable, of course.

DESCRIPTION: There was only one bed

WARNINGS:  nothing too suggestive, more on the fluff side

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,065

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I didn't know which characters you wanted so used the most popular form the recent poll. I had intended to do Ace as well but only had the energy to get something done for Shanks and Mihawk. I love this trope so much that i'll probably do more parts in the future. I hope you're happy with what I came up with and I'm sorry I didn't make it suggestive.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

MIHAWK

You were going to kill Crocodile. Not only did he order you to the tiniest island you’d seen in a long while, were the only thing in abundance seemed to be gloomy expressions but he also insisted you go to ‘keep an eye on' Mihawk. Since you considered Crocodile your main superior-a perspective you hadn't dropped since your Baroque Works days- you couldn't exactly refuse the assignment but it just made zero sense for you to be here. For starters Mihawk worked alone and efficiently enough that he didn’t require anyone to look out for him. Plus ‘observation’ wasn’t your usual role in Cross Guild. Normally Crocodile handed you a bounty list, told you to pick one and go get them. 

This was just one big headache and to make matters worse after scouring the entire island a call came through from Crocodile saying the bounty had already been completed and just handed in. Now you really were going to kill your boss, but from the look on Mihawk’s face it seemed you would have to get in line. From the receiver, Crocodile’s laugh caught both of your attentions.  “Look these things happen so stop pouting. Just make your way back to Cross Guild.”

Mihawk didn’t offer a response and ended the call, walking out of the alley you’d both stopped at to take the call. Silently you fell into step beside the former Warlord, walking the streets of the island for what felt like the hundredth time already. You let out a sigh of relief to see the inn come into view, now the only thing on your mind was trying to get a good night’s sleep and calm your annoyance at the whole situation. You couldn’t even muster a polite smile to the receptionist at the desk. “Two please.”

“Oh.” The receptionist glanced between you and Mihawk, her expression trained with years of experience to appear calm but you both saw the flicker of nervousness in her eyes for the smallest moment. “I’m sorry but we’re booked almost to capacity.”

“You’re joking.” You muttered. Why was everything going against you today? “You have nothing left?”

“W-well we’re a small island. Rooms go fast but we do have one room available.” You and Mihawk exchanged a look, both composed. Then the receptionist had to uselessly add. “Only one bed…” With a sigh you held out your hand for the key, knowing there wasn't much choice. Muttering thanks you glanced at the number of the keyring and headed for your room for the night. Stepping inside you found it lived up to your very low expectations but at least it was clean. Silently you eyed the bed you would have to share and looked to your stoic roommate. “So which side of the bed do you want?” 

As expected Mihawk was mature and respectable about the whole thing. Calm as ever he chose his side-the one closest to the door- and settled in for the night. Mihawk’s ability to fall over to sleep at ease was enviable because in the dark you could hear his deep, even breaths as he slept facing away from you. As tired as you were and as comfortable as you normally did feel in Mihawk’s presence you just couldn’t fall asleep. While the bed you lay in wasn't the worst you’d ever had to sleep in, it wasn’t the comfiest and living at Cross Guild had practically spoiled you. You’d gotten so used to stretching out, something you couldn’t exactly do at this moment. 

Deciding to just make do with your half of the bed and not disturb Mihawk, you rolled onto your side with the intention of getting comfortable. The only problem was you’d vastly overestimated the room you had to move and could only gasp as you felt the bed disappear from under you. In a split second as you braced to hit the ground, you were instead caught by a pair of hands. With ease you were pulled back onto the bed and you tensed to feel your back make contact with the warmth of Mhawk’s chest. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine, just sleep.” He told you while pulling one arm back to tuck his hand under his pillow. You tried not to react to how sleep brought Mihawk’s voice to a lower register that made it so much more attractive to you. You only nodded at his instruction and shifted slightly, already so much more comfortable than you had been all night. The only thing now was you noticed Mihawk still had one arm loosely draped over your body, not quite holding you but still enveloping you in his touch. “This is only to keep you from falling out of the bed again.”

“I didn’t say anything…” You mused, lips curving into a teasing smile that Mihawk could practically hear in the dark. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t make me kick you out of this bed.” Mihawk warned in your ear, despite the threat you smirked to feel his arm over you tighten just a little. 

“Relax, your secret is safe with me.” Ordinarily you would have teased him a little more but between the tiredness finally winning over you and the warmth of his body against yours being so comforting. For a moment Mihawk wondered if you were genuinely comfortable against him, ready to release you at the first sign of unease. Yet you surprised him when you yawned and lazily placed your hand over his arm and smile in satisfaction as your eyes slid closed, your breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Mihawk had been taking his time to slowly get to know you and let you in little by little, but now watching you roll onto your other side and curl up against his chest he began to reconsider his actions. Perhaps a few more missions away from Cross Guild’s base wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

SHANKS

This type of situation should not be happening in this day and age. Not with your crew and Captain having the reputation and fame they had. Drawing names to see who was sharing rooms of all things reminded you of when the crew was only just forming and the coin to pay for individual rooms was a luxury. Some of the others on the crew shared your slight annoyance but you all knew that there wasn’t much you could do about it. The ship needed repairs after getting damaged in a ferocious storm with the sleeping quarters affected and unusable for now. You were all pirates after all and you supposed you needed to be reminded of that. 

Still though you were secretly hoping you were one of the lucky ones who got their own room. You mentally cursed when Ben pulled out a slip of paper and read your name out. Resigned to your fate you grabbed your drink and took a plentiful mouthful as the vice-captain grabbed another piece of paper to announce your roommate for the night. As you wiped the stray remnant of the liquid from your lip you spotted the man pause and fight a laugh, disguising his amusement by rubbing the lower half of his face. “Captain Shanks.” 

Your back went rigid and you ignored the burning stares of the rest of the crew as you instead turned your attention to the man in question. Even he seemed momentarily thrown by the announcement but he recovered swiftly as expected of the laidback man. His dark eyes met your gaze and he offered you a cheeky smile and a wink.

That night when all the drinking had been done you and Shanks stepped into your shared room. Without needed to consult on anything you both instinctively went to your preferred side of the bed to sleep on. You sat down and worked on kicking off your shoes and shrugging out of your coat to at least be a little comfier. You looked over your shoulder when Shanks lightly cleared his throat as he pulled back the cover to settle down on the mattress. “Problem Cap?”

“Not really.” Shanks mused with a sly smile. “I usually sleep naked is all.”

“Poor baby, I’m sure you can be brave and at least keep your trousers on for one night.” You teased, used to your Captain’s antics and knowing he was only making jokes to ease the slight tension at having to share like this. With a tired groan you settled down on your side of the bed as Shanks flicked off the light, bringing the room fully into darkness. “If not the barmaid should still be about to help you.”

“And downgrade my sleeping partner? I’d rather lose another limb.” Shanks told you dramatically, offended you’d suggest such a thing. You let out a huff of amusement and rolled your eyes as you stared tiredly at the ceiling, letting yourself grow more comfortable against the mattress. “I lost count how many of the crew wanted me to swap with them…”

“Uh-huh.“ You mused with a lazy smile before breaking out into a long yawn, sleep coming over you quickly now. “Well aren’t you lucky? Now go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“Can I at least get a good night kiss?” Shanks teased lightly, playfully tapping your nose and grinning in the darkened room to see your tired face scrunch up slightly. He’d said it as a joke, something for you to barely register in your mind as you drifted off to sleep. What he hadn’t expected though was you to roll onto your side and push yourself up with a low hum of sleepiness, not even bothering to open your eyes fully. 

He watched silently, completely overcome with curiosity as your hand reached out to skim your fingers against his face, searching for him in the dark. Your hand settled against his cheek and slowly you drew closer. With half-lidded eyes Shanks couldn’t take his gaze off of your slightly parted lips. 

“Shanks…” your voice was barely a breathy whisper but it was clear as a bell to Shanks, his attention raptly on you and only you. Quickly you pulled back just enough and opened your eyes to smirk slightly to see Shanks had leant in slightly to chase your lips he had been quietly eager to taste.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Shanks protested with a small pout, his hand dropping to the small of your back, fingers flexing slightly a gesture, to request you close the distance. He wasn’t forcing you, you had all the power here. You tilted your head and smiled at the sudden pet-name. You couldn’t deny the temptation to give in to your own idle curiosities about your handsome Captain. Given how you were sharing a bed and he'd requested a kiss you would have been foolish to throw away the opportunity you had. Still you had to at least get a little bit more fun out of it by keeping Shanks in momentary suspense. 

Finally you relented and kissed Shanks, your lips moving languidly against his; it being no surprise to you the he was already returning the action with no hesitancy. There was no fight for dominance in the kiss you shared but you could feel the power and command of Shanks’ presence over you but he left the pace, duration, and intensity entirely up to you. As much as you wanted to take it further, to push your curiosity and attraction towards the man against you for your own satisfaction you had to pull away reluctantly, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to enjoy what would follow fully with how tired you were. “Satisfied with your good night kiss, Captain?”

“You have no idea.” Shanks grinned pressing a quick kiss against your head as you settled down on the bed again. “I can now sleep peacefully and dream the sweetest dreams.”

“Good.” You grinned sleepily, opening your eyes just enough to fix him a playful smile. “I expect a good morning kiss in return by the way.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, love.” Shanks grinned at you, already counting down the hours until he got to feel his lips against yours again but for now he would enjoy the time he had to sleep beside you.

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TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99

[grandline-fics]

Hey, can I get op boys>reaction to a child or anybody else hugging you,the way momonosuke hugged nami. It's okay if you don't want to do it.

DESCRIPTION: Their reaction to a child stealing your attention and affection

WARNINGS: slight insecurities/jealousy I guess but nothing serious

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Luffy

WORDS: 1,564

A/N: Hey there and thank you for sending in this request. I had a lot of fun thinking of how to make this scenario work and decided to just stick with two characters this time. If you want to request any other characters, please do. I hope this was to your liking 😊

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

SHANKS

It was a sure bet that everyone would naturally go to Shanks. It was a given that he was the most popular member of the crew. He was the Captain after all and any island you stopped at, he just had a way about him that charmed practically everyone in the vicinity. Ordinarily that was the case. Today it was almost the same, apart from one exception to the norm. You had an admirer and Shanks never had a problem with that because you always let them down kindly but firmly, only having eyes for him. This though? This was uncharted territory. You were staring at your clingy admirer with the warmest smile and his eyes narrowed. This was war. 

Abruptly Ben nudged his shoulder and he looked as his right-hand man and closest friend pulled up the stool beside him. Shanks scoffed at Beckman’s unbridled amusement at his Captain’s sulking and very clear displeasure at what he was witnessing. From across the room your laughter drifted up and Shanks’s gaze snapped immediately to you, his glare sharpening. Nothing could be that funny, not without him. “Cap…relax. They’re-”

“A snake. They know exactly what they’re doing.” Shanks muttered, lifting his drink to his mouth as he glared at the snake in question, stealing you from him.

“They’re one, Shanks.” Beck reminded his Captain with his grin broadening. “You aren’t getting insecure because of a baby are you?”

“This food better be worth it.” Shanks grumbled. Stopping here was only because everyone was hungry and wanted to eat and drink together before separating to begin gathering supplies for the next leg of the stretch at sea. When you all entered you were met with a friendly but very stressed woman, trying to manage serving customers while also looking after her son. Her son in question stared with wide eyes at the arrival of the Red Haired Pirates, shy but curious. Then his gaze fell to you and he squirmed in his mother’s hold while stretching to get to you, immediately besotted. 

You had no issue with helping keep the baby entertained since it helped his mother out and meant you could all still get something to eat and drink. As you held the baby close you couldn’t help but smile when the little boy let out a long yawn, using his fist to rub at his eyes. Finally you took a seat on the other side of Shanks and settled in the hopes he’d fall asleep. You finally broke your gaze away from the adorable little face to look at Shanks and Benn. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, adorable.” Shanks forced out, eyeing his tiny rival with a scowl. “Why don’t you let me take over?”

“I don’t mind, plus he’s falling asleep I don’t want to unsettle him.” You smiled, watching Shanks as he reached his hand out. The baby in your arms, half-asleep eyed Shanks with equal disdain. With an incoherent but very obvious noise of rejection, the baby’s fists latched tightly into your shirt and he nuzzled his head into your chest. “See? He’s comfy.”

Shanks knew better than anyone how comfy it was to lie against you and be wrapped in your arms. His eyes narrowed when the baby threw him one last look- pure smugness, Shanks saw-before he closed his eyes and feel asleep. Seeing the baby drift off and still maintain his vicelike grip on your close made you all but melt. “Shanks, how long are we staying on this island for?”

“We’re leaving as soon as the ship is restocked.” 

“So soon?” You asked in surprise. Ordinarily you all stayed to relax and interact with the locals. Even short stops on islands would be a few days. It had been a long time since Shanks had made a decision like this. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah just really itching to get back to sea is all. We can’t laze around when we’ve got treasures to find and adventures to have.” You arched an eyebrow at Shanks’ explanation. When he turned his head to grab his drink you looked over his shoulder to throw a questioning look to Beck. Subtly the man dropped his gaze to the baby in your arms and mouthed ‘jealous’ making you grin.

Rolling your eyes at how the most laidback man in the world you decided to fall in love with could be so ridiculous at times. Shifting your chair closer you lay your back against his side and reached up to press a soft peck against his cheek. “Love you, you big baby.”

“Love you too.” Shanks grinned down at you, wrapping his arm around you to hold you closer. “Make sure to say that again though when the little brat wakes up. He needs to know I’m the winner.” 

LUFFY

“Hey you little brat let go of them!”

“Make me!”

“I. Said. Let. Go.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re not the boss of me. Just go away and leave us alone, stupid hat!”

“Stupid hat?!” Luffy repeated with an angry glare, looking to you sharply with wide eyes, silently checking if you heard the added insult to him. It was nearly as bad as the fact some little kid was clinging to you happily with their arms tightly around your neck with no sign of letting go. You could only shrug and smile, it was just a little kid. You’d been the one to save them from an attacking enemy so of course they would be more attached to you than any of the others on the crew. The boy was harmless but Luffy was acting like he was top of the list of people he wanted to beat on his quest to be King of the Pirates. “Say it again brat! I dare you!”

“Stuuuupid haaaat!” The little kid leant further in to Luffy’s face, stretching out the insult with a taunting grin and defiance in his eyes that would have been something Luffy would have respected had it been directed at anyone else. Satisfied, the little boy relaxed back against you and stuck his tongue out at your seething Captain and boyfriend. Luffy snarled and grabbed the child’s ankle, ready to pull them off of you. The boy only let out an overly dramatic squeal and tucked their head under your chin. “No!! Stop him! He’s scaring me!”

“Luffy, c’mon be nice. Please?” You asked settling your hand soothingly over Luffy’s hand to make him stop immediately. This was meant to be a party to celebrate another victory for the crew and for some reason Luffy was getting confrontational with a child instead of enjoying himself and eating all the food on offer. “They’re only doing it because they know it’s annoying you.”

“But-”

“I know, I know.” You spoke softly, lifting your hand from his to affectionately run your fingers along the rim of his hat. “I love your hat, it’s not stupid to me.”

“It’s only stupid because he’s wearing it.” The little boy muttered sourly, turning his head to glare at the fact you were giving Luffy a compliment. “It’d look great on you though.”

“Awww thank you.” You smiled, relieved that they hadn’t been too scared by Luffy. It was no wonder he was acting up, after finally being free from the group of pirates terrorising his home he was finally getting to act like a child again and not have to worry about living in fear from you or the rest of the crew. “I think you’d look cool with a hat like Luffy’s too.”

“He can keep his hat.” You held back your initial urge to laugh but still you grinned when his arms tightened around your neck. “He gets his hat, and I get you!”

“Wh- WHAT?!“ Luffy shouted, the calm you’d managed to evoke with him disappearing faster than the food in the fridge when Sanji’s back was turned. “You can’t have them, they’re mine!”

Once again the shouting picked up and you were stuck between the two, listening to the fight and bicker over you with vicious possessiveness. You were jostled when the little boy moved to perch himself on your back, shouting over your shoulder as Luffy’s arms wrapped around your body so he could get into  the kid’s face as they argued back and forth about who you were going to stay with, not that either of them thought to ask your opinion on that fact. Having no choice you were helpless and just had to stand there as these two equally persistent energies until finally they both tired themselves out and in unison they fell asleep, slumping over but keeping their grips on you as tight as ever. Sighing you managed to drag yourself over to an empty seat and awkwardly sit down despite the hinderances having two people clinging to you brought. 

Eventually the boy’s mother came across your predicament and managed to lift her son off of you, leaving you to just have Luffy hold you possessively but that was something you were used to at night. Alone you smiled at your boyfriend. Yes it was childish of him to take the little boy’s infatuation with you seriously but it was reassuring that if he fought for you this fiercely then it meant you really had nothing to fear if anyone else came sniffing around you. 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

[grandline-fics]

Hello! I just found your blog and I am reading everything that you have (while working🤐)

I have to say I am in love with your writing. You are amazing, can't put the phone down.

I would love to be in the tag list for everything that you will write in the future.

Also if you don't mind can I ask for the Promp "Conforting Kisses" where the reader had a nightmare of the getting badly hurt and they give them kisses to forget maybe?

If you can do it for Luffy, Ace and Shanks I will be thankful for ever. If you don't want to write it is okey💕

Hope you have a great day! 💕

Thank you again for writing💕💖

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Comforting Kisses

WARNINGS:  descriptions of injury, mentions of death. slight angst. hurt to comfort

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Shanks

WORDS: 1,340

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and this request! I made a mistake and mis-read it to think you wanted the reader to do the comforting. I also only managed to get something for Luffy and Shanks for this but I hope this is still to your liking and you enjoy how it turned out.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

He was so much stronger than he had been when you first met and joined him on the crew. Luffy had spent two years under Rayleigh’s instruction to ensure he’d never lose anyone else close to him again. So now why was he staring in horror, completely helpless and unable to intervene as you were overwhelmed by multiple heavy hitting opponents he’d defeated in the past. Each one got hit after hit on you, ignoring Luffy’s yells for them to leave you alone. As strong as a fighter as you were normally you were no match against these monsters striking all at once. You didn’t even seem to notice Luffy as he screamed and struggled to get to you. The Captain could only watch as your attackers fell back into shadows while you fell to your knees as a wave of Magellan’s poison and Akainu’s magma came crashing over you.

Luffy awoke with a shuddering gasp, limbs locked tightly and body trembling as the cold sweat broke over his skin. With every rapid breath he took, the images he’d just detached himself from flashed in his mind in the dark. Every desperate gulp of air just brought more of a panic, drawing him back to the darkest, lowest point in his life when he’d realised he was weak and couldn’t save his brother. What would he do if he lost you? Before a new panic could set in, he caught the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Immediately he was out of bed and approaching the door, opening it before you could even knock. “Oh, couldn’t sleep either Lu-”

Before you could finish your question, Luffy had his arms out like a shot and pulled you against him. Laying his head against your chest the sound of your heartbeat finally began to ground him, rooting him in reality and not the horrible nightmare that still clung to him. You’d initially tensed at the hug Luffy drew you into, not because of it being unexpected-it wasn’t given how affectionate he was with everyone-but because of how timid he seemed. This wasn’t a usual Luffy hug, filled with warmth and happiness. As you wrapped your arms around his shoulders you could feel the tremor in his frame and took note of how every so often his arms would try to pull you closer. Angling one hand you settled your finger’s against the back of his head, moving in gentle motions to help him relax from whatever nightmare he’d clearly had. 

Lightly you pressed a kiss against the top of Luffy’s head, a small smile tugging at your lips when Luffy slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze. It was reassuring to see he seemed more himself albeit still a little shaken. “Can you do that again? Felt nice.”

“Sure.” Leaning forward you pressed a longer but just as gentle kiss against his forehead, your smile growing to hear and feel Luffy’s body relax from the comforting action. You pulled back to watch him carefully. “Ready to go back to bed? I can stay with you if it helps.”

Unsurprisingly Luffy’s gaze hardened at the suggestion. He was tired, he wasn’t going to lie but at the same time he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to have that nightmare all over against your offer of staying helped him greatly. 

Together you moved back into Luffy’s room and lay down in the bed. Taking naps with Luffy was never anything new but since starting a relationship with him this was the first time you were going to spend the night in his bed. As much as you didn't like the circumstances that led to this but you couldn’t deny how right it felt to lie in Luffy’s arms, pressing comforting kisses against his head as he fell asleep to keep his nightmares away. 

SHANKS

Shanks knew this image well. Loguetown’s town square filled to the brim of people, their heads turned towards the towering execution block and awaiting the procession to appear on the top podium. Overhead thick grey clouds quickly swept in and darkened the clear morning, rain falling heavily as the winds began to shriek. Shanks lifted his arm to shield his eyes, his gaze firmly on the Marines who appeared. Your name was shouted out for the audience to hear and immediately Shanks’ body froze when the two Marines stepped aside and you were roughly shoved onto your knees. 

Your body looked so frail and small on top of the execution block. Even from where he stood he could see the bruises and cuts against your body as you knelt, hands held firmly by the heavy iron shackles and chains. Shanks quickly began to push through the crowd, trying to get to you but for every person he moved out of his way more replaced them. No, this couldn’t be happening. While the two Marines drew their weapons in preparation of what was to come, another stepped forward to begin calling out the charges. 

“You have been found guilty for aiding and abetting, harbouring, and consorting with known Pirate Emperor Red Hair Shanks on multiple accounts spanning years. For this clear defection of the World Government’s rule and repeated alliance with dangerous criminals we can only treat you as a pirate and deem only one punishment is suitable; death.” Over the pelting rain and thunder, Shank’s yell for you was swallowed and you defeatedly hung your head. Your eyes slid closed as you waiting the swinging of the blades, arcing straight for you. 

Shanks woke sharply, a deep pit of ice twisting painfully in his stomach as his heart thundered loudly in his ears. It was so incredibly rare for Shanks to feel powerless or weak, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare and any that came to mind paled in comparison to what he’d just seen. He’d never allow any harm to come to you, in all the years he’d known you and loved you he’d made sure the Marines and any pirate rivals he had knew nothing about you. Glancing down he saw you sleeping peacefully against his chest. Logic told him you were fine, you were safe. He could feel your warmth and feel your soft breath against his skin but still it couldn’t replace the images of your beaten body about to be put to death. 

Knowing it was irrational and stupid, he couldn’t help himself. Lightly he spoke your name and gently shook your shoulder. Immediately you stirred, a hum of sleep thickened confusion breaking from your lips. Shifting so you were on your stomach you blinked through the haze and looked to Shanks in sleepy concern, knowing he’d never wake you unless it was necessary. “Shanks? What’s wrong?”

“Sorry love, really I am.” Shanks explained softly, letting his fingers gently move in soothing patterns against your skin. Seeing you awake and hearing your voice already doing wonders to dispel the hurt his subconsciousness had created. “Had a bad nightmare. Just needed you.”

Immediately your gaze sharpened enough and you nodded in understanding. It wasn’t often but anytime you had a nightmare and Shanks was there he’d wake and be there with you until you’d calmed. Now it was your turn. 

Slowly you pulled yourself up and inched closer. With a feather-light touch you pushed the stray strands of red hair from his face before caressing his jaw. Leaning in you pressed sweet, caring kisses against his face. You started at his eyes, paying close attention to his scars before moving to his temple, then the bridge of his nose, his cheeks before finally settling your lips against Shanks’ pulling him into a deep, tender kiss, clearing the remnants of his nightmare away. Breaking apart you lay your forehead against Shanks’, smiling when he lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing your wrist, a clear sign he was becoming more like his usual self. “When the crew and I leave this time, you want to come with me?”

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TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall

[grandline-fics]

okay, so, it’s rainy and dark and i’ve got a nice scented candle burning—truly immaculate PEAK cozy vibes, basically, and it just made me think of how some of the older one piece dudes would enjoy spending some nice cozy quality time with an s/o. definitely mihawk, i think, but i’d also be very interested in croc, shanks, and/or smoker, if you have the inclination. love your work, have a great day, thank you for feeding us quality content

DESCRIPTION: Quiet, cosy quality time with them

WARNINGS: none, just fluff. small amount of insecurity in Smoker's

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Smoker

WORDS: 1,891

A/N: Thank you for this request! I love the cosy prompts so much and this was so nice to work on. I hope you like what I managed to come up with for this

First fic written with the new laptop. Guys it's such a relief to be able to write without fear it's all going to die and I'll lose everything. Here's some fluff and I hope you all enjoy! 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

MIHAWK

Mihawk thrives in the quiet, he knows the life of a pirate and the fighting will always bring noise and chaos and the constant sound of attacks and the song of his sword slicing through those that he’s deemed his prey. Since founding Cross Guild the noise has only seemed to grow, no thanks to the clown and his rowdy followers. In a way he is in a small part grateful to the increased noise because now in moments like these, in the time he spends with you, he savours the peace so much more. From the shared bathroom he looked up at the sound of the door opening and offered you a small, calm smile when you emerged. 

You’d been out on your own mission and had just returned but managed to get caught in the torrential rain on the walk back to the base. After a successful hunt and stretch of time away, the hot water, fresh change of clothes, and being back in your own sanctuary with Mihawk was already working wonders. Immediately you crossed the space and settled on the sofa beside him, curling up against his side and letting out a long content hum. The lazy smile on your lips grew when you felt Mihawk press a tender kiss against the side of your head. 

The heat from the shower still clung to your skin and he curled his arm around you, squeezing you just another fraction closer even though you were already as close as you possibly could but still he needed just a little bit more. You were always happy to comply, pressing more and wrapping your arm over his chest and laying your head against him. As the heavy rain fell against the windows you felt your body grow even more relaxed. After letting out a long yawn you rubbed your eyes and focussed on the book in Mihawk’s hand, your mind sharpening slightly to crane you head back enough to look at him.

“Is that one of my books?” You asked with a small smile while Mihawk turned the book to show the cover to you, in false, innocent curiosity. 

“It would seem so.” He mused idly, adjusting the book to continue reading while letting you see which part he was at. 

“Oh my favourite part’s coming up!” You softly gasped with as much enthusiasm as your sleepy, relaxed body could manage. You looked to Mihawk once more, not surprised to see he was already meeting your gaze. You never knew how it was possible but the sharp, shining gold in his gaze filled you with a reassuring warmth and steadiness. “Will you read to me?”

“Of course I will.” Mihawk’s simple compliance to your request was so soft but made you smile broadly and you settled back down. As Mihawk’s deep, comforting voice began to read to you and fill the room it melded perfectly with the sound of rainfall and pulled you into the purest and strongest feeling of calm and protection. Eventually Mihawk paused in his reading, gaze softening to see you were fast asleep. Gracing another loving kiss against your head Mihawk returned to reading aloud for you to ensure he honoured his promise to you and that you heard your favourite part.

SHANKS

There isn’t much time or opportunity for you and Shanks to enjoy one-on-one quality time where it’s simply just the two of you and didn’t include when you were in bed together. Without fail you’re both surrounded by the crew as you sail, when you fight your enemies, and when you’re settled on an island for the chance to party and resupply. Even on the quieter days on the open water the two of you were not left to your own devices, there would always be someone-usually most of the crew- wanting either of your attentions in some capacity. Neither of you felt annoyed by the dynamic and constant presence of the crew in your free time, both of you were used to it by now. It just meant that when those singular little moments did occur they were embraced and made the most of all the more.

You woke first, curled up on your side with Shanks’ arm curved around you protectively, holding you tight against his chest and his head pressed as close as possible in the curve of your neck. For just a moment as you felt the haze of sleep lift from your relaxed frame you enjoyed the warmth of Shanks’ body and soaked in as much as the peace and quiet as you could of the early morning. You listened keenly to the slow rock of the ship and gentle lapping of water but there was no other sign of life. Then you remembered that you’d docked on an island, so many of the crew had scattered the night before to make the most of all they could see, do, eat and drink so it was correct to assume they found other places on land to lay their heads. Knowing this was a safe harbour, very few remained on board. Which meant…

You blinked and a slow grin spread on your lips as the realisation dawned on you. Ordinarily you would have just laid as long as possible but this was your chance to have time with Shanks without it just being in bed or with the constant chance of interruptions. Slowly you adjusted your position and managed to push yourself up just enough to smile at Shanks, amusement growing when his calm expression immediately shifted into one of childish annoyance. Even asleep your presence was something he was keenly attuned to and the added distance-no matter how small- was felt. “Shanks, wake up.”

“Just five more minutes, love.” Shanks mumbled, trying to pull you back against him again. You let out a soft breathy laugh and leant in just to press a quick kiss against his cheek.

“Shanks,” you sang out pulling back a little more this time, grinning when he pouted and cracked his eyes open. “Listen, no crew.”

“No crew,” Shanks repeated, his eyes sharpening just enough to show you he was waking. You began to inch closer to the edge of the bed, smiling the more Shanks’ expression shifted as he watched your movements. He wasn’t ready to get out of bed just yet and if he was he needed convincing.

“Lucky’s not here to guard the kitchen.” You coaxed him softly and Shanks grinned at the sparkle in your eyes, already anticipating the words forming in your mouth. “Let’s make pancakes!”

With a grin Shanks immediately followed you out of bed and to the empty kitchen. Any time Lucky left his inner sanctum unsupervised you and Shanks took it upon yourselves to show you were capable cooks.

By the time the both of you managed to make an edible batch of pancakes there was flour and batter on your skin and dusted in your hair, and all over the kitchen. With the kitchen looking like a canon ball hit you you and Shanks sat happily together, at peace and smiling, only focussed on the other and already planning what else to do with the limited alone time together before the crew made their presences known again.

SMOKER

Everyone knew Smoker was a gruff, abrasive, typically no nonsense man. If anyone thought lighthearted, soft, calming his face usually wouldn’t be the first thing that came to mind. Smoker knew how he was perceived, he was aware fully of his personality. Which was why it left him confused at times in how it came to be that you reciprocated his feelings and gave him a chance. Even more puzzling to him was that you continued to stay with him, always smiling and enjoying his company. Enjoying him. You were both busy with your constant workloads. Smoker being on long missions more than you meant the quality time together was sparse and when he did have his paperwork caught up on and had a day off, more often than not he was tired. Still you never complained and as Smoker glanced at you as you made coffee for your both, his frown deepened.

You approached the sofa and handed him his coffee, made exactly how he liked it, smiling softly as you settled down to lounge beside him. Smoker immediately adjusted his own position to let you settle your back against his chest. Wordlessly he handed you the morning paper and a pen. This was the routine it seemed, you worked through the crossword and he let himself relax from a long mission. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, the whole thing seemed unfair. Sometimes he barely made conversation with you, especially if the mission had been a long and stressful one. Smoker sighed and dropped his arm to rest loosely around you. You let out a soft hum and lay your head against him more, sipping on your drink and pen absently tapping against the paper as you read over the clues. After a while he spoke up. “Is this okay?”

“Hm?” You asked, turning your head to look at him gently. Then you smiled broadly. “More than okay. You’re very comfy to lean against. You’re like a fluffy, smokey cloud.”

“That’s…reassuring but that’s not what I meant.” Smoker cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment. When he looked back at you again, you’d sat up and turned to face him. Your smile now turned to worry. “I meant is this okay with us? Are you happy that this is how we spend our alone time?”

“What’s wrong with it?” You asked curiously and Smoker felt relief to see your worry had receded now that he had explained himself a little better. “How should it be?”

“Well I don’t know…I just don’t want you missing out on exciting dates like the others seem to constantly talk about.”

“Ah, you’ve been listening to your subordinates again.” You mused with a growing grin. “I think we live exciting enough lives as it is. Getting to just put our feet up and relax? That’s the best, Smoker and it’s made perfect when I have you here with me. I’m happy, are you?”

“Yes, very happy.” Smoker admitted with a small smile pulling at his lips, feeling like a weight had been lifted. With a small nod and satisfied smile you returned to your previous position while Smoker leant back and let his eyes close as the usual tranquility settled over you both again. “Oh, you should know this one: ‘another word for adorable’…What do you think?”

“Cute?” Smoker guessed, cracking an eye open to see you’d craned your head back to look at him with a playful grin.

“Nope…” You laughed, lifting your paper to show you’d already answered the clue, filling the spaces to read  ’S-M-O-K-E-R-♡‘

Smoker blinked at the answer and then at you, feeling the tips of his ears heat and tinge a light pink as he quickly grabbed a cushion and lightly hit you on the head with it as your giggles filled the room. He allowed himself a small chuckle of his own as he admitted to himself that yes, the time with you, no matter what it was you did was more than ‘okay.’

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs@sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

[grandline-fics]

Hi!!! I'd love it if you could write headcanons about them taking care of you when you are sick, pairing Shanks, Cora, Sanji, Zoro...(Any other characters that you'd like to write about) Thank you! ❤️

hey there! thank you for this head canon request. Would have loved to have added more characters to this but it's been a draining week so could only manage three. Hope this is to your liking💕

Shanks

🔴It doesn't happen often but when you start to get sick, Shanks can tell it’s coming almost immediately, even before you realise. Whether it's a shiver, a clearing of the throat or small wince when the beginning aches start to settle in your body, Shanks' sights are set on you with alert focus. 🔴As much as he’d love to order you to immediately to go and rest until you were better he knows at the beginning it’ll be pointless. You’ll insist it’s nothing and continue on your tasks so he has no choice but to wait. 🔴He likes to be close with you regardless but when you start to get sick he lingers more than usual, his arm remaining firmly around you and ensuring you are kept warm and aren’t pushing yourself too hard. 🔴When he senses you're ready to admit you're sick he's already sweeping you off of your feet and carrying you to bed while calling for Hongo to come and work his magic and get you back to full health. 🔴Nurse Shanks mode activates and he tends to your every need even when you don't ask for anything. He lets you use him as a personal bed to rest against and sleep while making sure you take any medicine Hongo gives you. 🔴 In the times that you're sick and the Marine's or rival pirates try to mess with him and the crew is when Shanks' laidback and casual attitude disappears. If his intense Haki isn't enough to give them a clear sign to turn around and be grateful they're leaving with their lives then there are definitely a few wrecked ships lying in his wake because he refuses to let anything disrupt your much needed rest and recovery. 🔴On the morning you wake up feeling better, a switch flips in Shanks' mind and he's instantly back to his teasing self, playfully nudging you and 'ordering' you that it's time to stop slacking off and getting back to your duties but before you can do get any retort he’s swooping in to press as many kisses as possible against your lips to make up for the lost time.

Cora

♥️Whenever you get sick Cora has a tendency to blame himself. He believes he should have taken better care of you, kept a more watchful eye and found a way to prevent this from happening. ♥️In between apologising he's hurrying around you trying to grab whatever it is you want and trying to tend to you while also being incredibly conscious of his movements so he doesn't make things worse. For every apology he offers you, you're quick to reassure him that none of this is his fault. ♥️ As much as you want to insist that you're not so sick that you need to go straight to bed, you know that for Cora's sake you're best to lie down and rest until you're better otherwise in his panic he would most likely end up injuring himself. ♥️ No request is too small for you to make and Cora will always strive to get whatever and do whatever it is you want. Even if it's a small request to refill your water or just rub your back he'll do it with zero hesitation and with zero care that he could also get sick with whatever you have. ♥️ If he has to go and get medicine or anything specific you've asked for, Cora leaves his black feather coat behind. He will drape it over you carefully and gently, taking even more care than needed if you're sleeping before he goes. Not only does it keep you warm and comfortable but when you wake and see it you know it's his way of promising he'll be back soon. ♥️Tries to act casual but always breaths a heavy sigh of relief when you have recovered and back on your feet. It doesn't matter if it was just a 24hour bug or a sickness that lasts a little longer, he'll always worry for you and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Sanji

🌀You're sick? His already full attention and care for you intensifies. Before you can even insist you'll be fine after a little rest he's already got you in his arms and carrying you to Chopper because he refuses to let you strain your already weakened state with useless tasks like walking and doing your set chores for the day. 🌀No one else exists to him while you're unwell. He doesn't even care to throw any insults Zoro's way and doesn't rise to the swordsman's goading. In this moment until you're better again, you are his one and only priority. It gets to the point that sometimes he is delayed in cooking the rest of the crew their meals. Yes, it's only delayed by a couple minutes but for someone as dedicated to the kitchen and cooking as Sanji is, it says a lot about how much you mean to him. 🌀It could just be because of his past and seeing his mother sick but if you're unwell and need to rest longer than a couple days, Sanji will be constantly pestering and bribing Chopper for information about what it is you've been hit with and what meals he make for you to boost your immune system and recovery more than he already has. 🌀Is so clingy with you when you're resting and will even stop smoking in the time as well so that there isn't any lingering smell on his skin or clothes so it doesn't aggravate your symptoms or nauseate you. 🌀As surprising as it is, Sanji is strict with you while you're unwell. He wants you to get better as soon as possible so if you're on bedrest he refuses to give in to your pleads to get out of bed. You can ask for the moon and he would give it to you in an instant but if it's something that goes against Chopper's directions for care and recuperation he will be the first to say no. 🌀The second you've been given the all-clear from Chopper, Sanji is giving you the tightest hug and deepest kiss possible before hurrying off to get you anything you weren't allowed to have while you were sick, having memorised every request you made. His mind also retains any goading comment or insult Zoro made towards him in that time too and will make sure to launch into a fight with the man straight after. Because now that you're better he's back to normal too.

———————

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld  , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @sin-namonroll , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

[grandline-fics]

TAG LIST PART TWO:(If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith , @tinysoulmentality , @twistedcece , @stuckinmymind22 , @missrakan , @one-piecelover , @matronofthevoid , @shanalikeanna , @physics-of-one-piece , @hankgreensraccoon , @hunbunbumdum , @jecra-dreams @rosehail1999 , @dearlymrme , @0silly-creature0 , @toasterking, @stairswarning , @saphiresai, @hadesorion , @huishannn , @kawaiiyukina , @hanaaakhai , @pepperedkiss , @sluttysirennn , @that-b-word-lol , @noonegivesaketterdamn , @sugu81 , @meow-0x0, @houseruleznlee , @omegaworld , @newfangled-artistry , @binksbrewcrew, @beepbeepimasheep123 , @nynxtea , @commanderfreethatdust

[lim3s]

What if someone at a market mistook Qifrey and Reader of the parents of one of the girls. Who would be the one to go along with it to escape, who would try and quickly correct them or would one or both of them be having an internal freak out.

This could work for both them being in a relationship or before hand

Qifrey and Reader getting mistaken as parents by a vendor!

Qifrey x reader

cw: none

AN: I'm alive, at least I think I am. After having to write my diploma which is 70 pages of nothing but science this was such a welcome change you have no idea. it's still just a blurb as I'm getting into writing fics again. Thank you for the request Anon and for being so patient with me 🤍🤍

"If it meant being with you"

The morning air is bright in that particular way it only ever is on market days—cool enough to wake you fully, warm enough to promise something sweet later. You can hear the town long before you see it: chatter spilling over itself, laughter ringing like little bells, the clatter of carts rolling over stone.

Behind you, footsteps shuffle.

“Teacher, wait—no, not like that, you’ll step on—”

A soft thud and a sharp “Ow!” follow, immediately answered by a chorus of panicked apologies.

You turn just in time to see Qifrey pivot gracefully on his heel, catching Agott by the sleeve before she fully collides with a stack of wooden crates. His movements are as precise as ever, a quiet magic to them even without a spell circle in sight.

“Careful,” he says gently, though his tone carries its usual edge of amused reprimand. “The market is not an obstacle course.”

“I wasn’t trying to—!” Agott huffs, cheeks pink. “They just stopped suddenly!”

“I stopped because you ran,” Coco adds, half exasperated, half delighted, her eyes already darting toward a stall selling ribbons dyed every color imaginable. “Teacher Qifrey said not to get separated!”

Tetia nods vigorously beside her, clutching the strap of her bag with both hands. “It’s so crowded… but also so fun!”

You smile at them, the expression coming easily. It’s rare to see all of them like this—relaxed, buzzing with curiosity instead of tension or fear. Market days are one of Qifrey’s few indulgences for his students, framed as “practical observation of everyday magic,” but really… it’s just a day to be kids.

Qifrey straightens, then glances toward you.

“Shall we proceed?” he asks, offering a hand in your direction—more habit than necessity, but you take it anyway.

His hand is warm. Always is.

You fall into step beside him as the group moves forward, the students fanning out just enough to look at everything while still staying close. Stalls stretch endlessly ahead: jars of glowing ink, bundles of herbs tied with twine, enchanted brooms leaning lazily against walls, pastries dusted with sugar that sparkle faintly under the sun.

Coco gasps every few steps.

“Look at that quill!”

“That bread is floating—!”

“Is that a charm for faster knitting?!”

Qifrey answers questions as they come, patient and attentive, but you can feel the shift in him today. He’s… lighter. Less guarded. The rigid line that often defines his posture softens as he walks beside you, shoulders easing, steps unhurried.

At one stall, Tetia tugs gently on your sleeve.

“Um—can I show you something?”

You lean down as she points to a tiny glass orb filled with swirling light. “It’s beautiful,” you say honestly. “It looks like a captured sunset.”

Her eyes light up. “That’s what I thought too!”

Qifrey watches the exchange, lips curving faintly.

For a while, everything is perfect.

Then it happens.

You’re stopped near a fruit stand—Agott arguing (politely, for once) with the vendor about the authenticity of a charm carved into the scale—when a woman nearby laughs softly.

“Oh,” she says, nudging the man beside her. “Look at them.”

You glance up, confused, just in time to hear her add warmly:

“What a lovely family.”

The words settle into the air like pollen.

Your brain catches up immediately.

Qifrey’s… does not.

You feel it through his hand before you even look at him—the sudden tension, the minute tightening of his grip. He stiffens, posture snapping back into that familiar, composed line, as if bracing for impact.

“P-pardon?” he says, polite smile strained just a fraction too tight.

The woman gestures vaguely toward the students, who are now clustered together, comparing fruit sizes with great seriousness.

“Your children,” she says. “They’re so well-behaved. You must be very proud.”

There’s a beat.

Then two.

You feel Qifrey freeze completely.

Oh.

Oh.

You bite back a laugh—not unkind, just… fond.

Before Qifrey can respond (or combust), you gently squeeze his hand and step forward, offering the woman an easy smile.

“Thank you,” you say lightly. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

The woman beams, satisfied, and turns back to her shopping as if she hasn’t just dropped a social spell of unprecedented power.

The moment she’s gone, Qifrey leans toward you, voice low and flustered.

“Y-you didn’t have to—!”

“It’s fine,” you murmur back, still smiling. “Really. It’s an honest mistake.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, adjusts his hat.

“…I see.”

His ears are pink.

The students, oblivious, continue their debate.

“Teacher Qifrey,” Coco says suddenly, “can we get these? They’re only a little enchanted!”

Qifrey clears his throat. “We’ll discuss it.”

Agott narrows her eyes. “You’re acting weird.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You step in before that turns into something else. “How about we find lunch first?”

That settles it. Food always does.

You walk on, the market swallowing you up again—but something has shifted. Qifrey is quieter now, thoughtful in a way that pulls his gaze inward. His hand remains in yours, though, and he doesn’t let go.

Not once.

Lunch is eaten on the edge of a fountain, the students sprawled around with bread and fruit and far too much energy. Coco chatters about spell theory, Tetia shares bites of pastry, Agott pretends not to enjoy herself but absolutely does.

Qifrey watches them with a softness he rarely allows himself.

You watch him.

Eventually, he stands. “I’ll… be right back,” he says. “There’s something I need to check.”

You know better. It’s an escape, not an errand.

“I’ll come with you,” you say, rising smoothly.

He pauses, then nods.

You leave the students under Coco’s very earnest supervision and slip away down a quieter side street. The noise of the market fades to a hum, replaced by the soft creak of wooden signs and the distant call of gulls.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Then Qifrey exhales.

“…I apologize,” he says suddenly.

You blink. “For what?”

“For being… unsettled earlier.” He adjusts his gloves, fingers precise but restless. “I should have corrected that woman.”

You tilt your head. “Did you want to?”

He stops walking.

Sunlight filters through the awnings above, painting his mask in soft gold. When he turns to face you, his expression is unusually open—unguarded.

“I was caught off guard,” he admits quietly. “The implication was… unexpected.”

You smile gently. “It happens. People assume things.”

“Yes,” he says. “They do.”

There’s something else there. You can feel it, hovering between you like a spell not yet drawn.

You wait.

Qifrey hesitates, then sighs—long and honest.

“…I did not dislike it.”

Your heart stutters.

He meets your gaze fully now, voice low but steady.

“The idea, I mean. Being seen that way. With you.” A pause. “As something… shared.”

The market breeze carries the scent of apples and ink and warm bread.

You swallow. “Qifrey—”

“I know it’s foolish,” he continues, quickly now, as if afraid to lose momentum. “And inappropriate, and I would never allow such assumptions to affect the students, but—”

You reach out, fingers brushing his sleeve.

“Hey,” you say softly. “It wasn’t foolish.”

He stills at your touch.

You smile, small and sincere. “If anything, it was kind of sweet.”

His breath catches.

“…Sweet?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle. “I figured brushing it off was easier than making it a whole thing. They didn’t mean anything by it.”

Qifrey studies you, searching your face.

“And… if they had?” he asks quietly.

You hold his gaze, steady.

“Then I guess I wouldn’t mind either.”

The silence that follows is full—not empty.

Qifrey’s shoulders relax, tension draining from him like a released enchantment. When he smiles, it’s soft, genuine, and just a little shy.

“…If that title meant being together with you,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I believe I would welcome it.”

Your chest warms.

You don’t rush it. You don’t need to.

You just step closer, resting your forehead lightly against his mask, laughter and market noise distant and irrelevant.

“Well,” you murmur, “we’d better get back before the kids adopt a goat or something.”

He laughs—quiet, real.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s.”

And together, you turn back toward the sound of your very not-children waiting for you.

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