Honestly, I write whatever comes to mind or whatever I want to write about. You know they say some thoughts are better spoken 🫡 I do very very much enjoy One Piece though, so most if not all of my writing is going to be based on One Piece characters. Anyways I hope you enjoy my writing and stick with me in the future!
Thinking abt Doflamingo 🙂↕️ I think I'm going to write for him as well if I find the time. As much as I hate to admit it, this man is fineee 🫡 Miss him lots, I loved Dressrosa 💔
Younger him especially cs what 💔😓 However him killing Rosinante was unforgivable idgaf
All I can think about is a Borsalino edit w/ the song "I'm The Slime"
Ughhhhh 😵💫 He's growing on me more than I'd like to admit, ever since I saw edits to this song I cant stop thinking about one with him. Can't wait to start writing part 2 of "Sparks Between" (It might become a series...cause I want it to be a slowburn typa thing 😬)
Summary: Reader (g/n) always has to clean up Kizaru's mess. But to your surprise, he respects and likes you more than expected.
Note: Something light! Buncha teasing in this one, I'd say.
✦═════✦═════✦
It was always the same.
You cleaned his desk, corrected his reports, backdated his debriefs, and picked up after every single conversation he should’ve had but didn’t. Admiral Borsalino—Kizaru to most—floated through his days like he was made of mist and light, untouchable and unconcerned.
Meanwhile, you—the unfortunate assistant glued to his hip—drowned in his workload.
“I swear to the seas,” you muttered through clenched teeth, arms full of abandoned documents, “if this man forgets one more damn requisition form—”
The stack slipped. You caught it with your knee, nearly cursing out loud. Huffing, you shoved the door open with your shoulder, only to stop dead.
He wasn’t alone.
The door was cracked, and two familiar voices carried inside—his and Admiral Onigumo’s. You lingered. You really shouldn’t have. But something in Onigumo’s tone—sharp and dry like old steel—held your feet in place.
“You still dragging that assistant around like a shadow?” Onigumo sneered. “Tch. You really don’t have standards, do you?”
“Helpful?” A scoff. “More like clingy. All soft eyes and desperate little tasks—like a stray mutt begging to be noticed.”
You flinched.
Onigumo chuckled, low and unpleasant. “Bet they’d do anything you asked with a wag of your fingers. Pathetic. The Marines are too lenient. A thing like that should be on their knees, not your payroll.”
Silence.
Dead, heavy silence.
Then—
A sound like air being sliced apart. Fast. A blade? No—a paperweight, maybe. Something shattered.
“…Ah-ah~,” Kizaru said, his tone almost sing-song. But something was… wrong with it.
Not bored.
Warning.
“You’ve always been such a sharp tongue, Onigumo,” he said, still low, still calm—too calm. “But maybe you forgot who you’re talkin’ to.”
“Relax, Borsalino. I’m just sayin’—”
“You’re just runnin’ that mouth of yours,” Kizaru cut in, smiling. Still smiling. “But see… that mouth is gettin’ awful close to sayin’ somethin’ I don’t feel like lettin’ slide.”
The silence deepened. Onigumo bristled.
“You threatening me?”
Another soft hum. “Mmm… maybe. Or maybe I’m just remindin’ you that the last person who disrespected what’s mine stopped talkin’ permanently.”
Your breath caught.
What’s mine?
Your chest squeezed tight.
“I don’t share. I don’t forget. And I don’t forgive the kind of filth you just let spill,” Kizaru said with eerie finality. “So get the hell out of my office before I make a mess I won’t bother cleanin’ up.”
Chairs shifted. Heavy footsteps retreated fast—boots stomping in silence like even the floor knew better than to creak.
The door snapped shut.
You remained frozen in place behind the wall, heart pounding in your ears.
Kizaru didn’t get mad. Not in the way people understood it. He didn’t yell. Didn’t curse. He didn’t punch walls.
But right now, even the air was buzzing with static.
Something in you fluttered.
You slipped away before he could see you.
You were not sick.
And yet, for the third time this morning, you dropped a pen. It clattered noisily against the tile as you bent down with a sharp “sorry!”—earning a curious look from the clerk passing through the hall.
Your fingers trembled when you typed. You accidentally spilled coffee (on yourself), filed a report backward, and called Vice Admiral Doberman “Dogman.”
That last one got you a full ten seconds of silence before the man walked away shaking his head.
You’d been flawless for nearly a year—sharp, composed, efficient to the point of robotic. And today?
An over-caffeinated rookie with two left feet and a guilty conscience.
It was all his fault.
The memory kept replaying: “I don’t share. I don’t forget.” And—worse—“things I like.”
He couldn’t have meant you.
...Right?
You hugged the files against your chest tighter, slipping past the doorway into Kizaru’s office. He was leaned back as usual, sunglasses low on his nose, doing absolutely nothing.
At least, nothing you could see.
“Mm, mornin’~” he drawled, voice too smooth. “You’re late.”
You blanched. “I—I brought the updated mission logs from G-5.”
“Didn’t ask about the papers,” he said without opening his eyes. “I said you’re late.”
Your mouth opened, then closed.
You were.
By six minutes.
You never were.
He sat forward slowly, long legs spreading slightly as he rested his forearms on his thighs. His face angled up toward you, lazy smile quirking at the corners.
“You alright, sweet thing?”
Sweet thing.
You dropped the files.
Clatter.
The silence was sharp.
“Okay, that’s the third thing you’ve dropped today,” he noted, brows lifting behind those amber lenses. “Might hafta call medical.”
You bent down quickly, trying to mask your face. “I’m fine. Sorry, Admiral.”
“Oh?” he said lightly. “So you’re not runnin’ a fever... not dizzy... not poisoned or possessed?”
“...No.”
Kizaru leaned back again, but his gaze followed you now—curious. Amused. Like a cat noticing a mouse starting to twitch.
“You’re actin’ mighty strange, y’know that?” he mused. “First time I’ve seen your hands shake. Usually you move like you’re runnin’ the whole system.”
You bit your cheek.
He was watching too closely.
You weren’t prepared for this.
And then—you caved.
You didn’t mean to. It just spilled out. Quiet. Awkward.
“I… might’ve heard what you said yesterday.”
Silence.
Kizaru didn’t move for a beat. Then a very slow, very smug smile pulled across his lips.
“Ooh~?” he said, drawing it out. “Now that explains the pink on your face.”
“I’m not—!” you started, then stopped.
Because you were.
He chuckled.
Low, rich, warm.
Then stood.
It wasn’t that he towered over you—though he did. It was how easily he took up the room, stretching and adjusting his jacket before approaching, hands casually in his pockets.
“So, you heard me threaten a man’s tongue for disrespectin’ you,” he said, voice like honey soaked in sunlight. “And now you’re droppin’ pens and bumpin’ into walls.”
You cleared your throat, backing up a step as he stopped just shy of your space. “You were angry. It doesn’t mean anything—”
“Doesn’t it?” he interrupted.
You met his gaze and regretted it instantly.
That look.
Sharp as glass and smooth as a lie. But there was something behind it—something molten, something that had always been there, maybe, only now you could finally see it.
“You thought I never noticed, didn’t you?” he murmured, voice low. “The way you’d brush off compliments from anyone else but never from me. How you always made sure I had coffee—no sugar, extra hot—even if I didn’t ask.”
Your breath caught.
He leaned in just slightly.
“I’ve noticed every little thing you’ve done for me. Every way you tried not to care too much. Tried not to be obvious.”
He smiled.
“And now look at you. Can’t even hold a pen.”
You opened your mouth, unsure if it was to argue, explain, or breathe.
But before you could speak, he plucked the folder from your hands, thumb brushing your knuckles.
“I’ll read through this later,” he said smoothly. “Don’t worry—I’ll be real thorough.”
Then he winked, turned, and walked to his desk.
As if your whole world hadn’t just tilted.
But you swore you’d act normal today.
Back to business. No nerves. No more heart-thumping meltdowns over that ridiculous, molten-voiced menace you called your superior officer.
You were composed. Sharp. Dry-witted.
Except you weren’t.
Because he was everywhere.
You rounded a corner? He was there, arms crossed, leaning lazily on a wall like he owned time.
Walked into a meeting room? Already lounging at the end of the table, sunglasses down, grin lazy as ever.
You tried not to look at him—but your eyes always found him.
And the worst part?
He knew.
You could tell. He’d smile a little too wide when you stumbled over a sentence. Make a humming sound every time your hands fidgeted. You were going to combust at this rate.
By the time mid-day rolled around, you were half-certain he was doing it on purpose.
And you were right.
You were in the office again. Alone—for five precious seconds.
You exhaled, eyes shut, repeating your internal mantra: You’re fine. He doesn’t know. You can—
“Y’know~”
You jolted, nearly throwing the stack of documents you were holding. “A-Admiral!”
Kizaru was at your side.
You didn’t hear him come in. He was like a damn shadow—if shadows were six-foot smug mirages wrapped in black and gold.
He raised his eyebrows slowly, clearly amused. “That’s three days in a row you’ve flinched when I speak. Makes a man think he’s scary.”
You opened your mouth to lie—to deny it all, to retreat behind your usual sarcasm—but he cut you off.
“You weren’t like this before,” he said softly. “Somethin’ changed.”
You stiffened.
“…I don’t know what you mean.”
He smirked. “Oh, you do.”
He stepped a little closer.
You stepped back.
It became a pattern. One he indulged in, slowly, predatorily—closing the space between you like a dance. Lazy, warm, and deliberate.
“And now,” he continued, “every time I call you sweet thing, your face goes all pink.”
“It does not!”
“Ohhh~?” he cooed, clearly enjoying himself. “Guess I should say it more often then.”
Your brain was melting.
Then he leaned a hand on the wall behind you—textbook cornering, except it was somehow worse because he didn’t need to.
“You know,” he murmured, voice like warm syrup, “I’ve been thinkin’ about what I said.”
Your breath caught. “W-What part?”
“That I don’t forget things I like.”
You stared up at him, completely still.
He hummed thoughtfully. “Didn’t say it lightly, y’know.”
The silence stretched.
Your heart was hammering. You were very aware of his scent—like ozone and something clean, cold—his presence overwhelming. His mouth was close enough that you swore you felt the warmth of it when he spoke.
“You know what else I don’t forget?” he whispered.
You swallowed hard. “…What?”
He smiled.
Then leaned back.
“Lunch breaks.”
You blinked.
“What—?”
Kizaru straightened, brushing his coat sleeve smooth as he turned toward the door. “Takin’ mine now. I suggest you do the same. You’re twitchin’ like a faulty den den mushi.”
And then, just before leaving, he looked over his shoulder and added:
“Oh. And don’t bother with your usual order from the commissary.”
He winked.
“Already took the liberty. Hope you like salmon rice.”
You stood frozen.
You did like salmon rice.
You liked it too much.
You didn’t know what was worse—that he noticed…
Or that you liked that he noticed.
Lunch was a mistake.
Not the food—it was perfect, of course. Salmon rice, made just the way you liked it. You didn’t even know they made it like this in Marine HQ.
No, the mistake was agreeing to eat in his office.
You should’ve known. You did know. But you said yes anyway.
Now, here you were. Cross-legged on the rug in front of his floor-length window, a bento half-eaten in your lap, while Borsalino freaking Kizaru sat across from you, slouched like a damn cat, golden coat draped behind him like it had never once seen a wrinkle.
He looked dangerous.
Not in the way the Wanted posters described. No—this was worse. He looked comfortable.
Comfortable around you.
And you… were not.
You kept fidgeting. Picking at your food. Not meeting his eyes.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured, resting his head against the wall. “That’s new.”
You tensed.
“I’m just thinking.”
He made a soft “hmm” sound. “About?”
Your jaw worked. You hadn’t meant to answer honestly. But the pressure had been building since yesterday—since his voice dipped, since he cornered you, since he brought you lunch.
And now, with only three feet of space between your knees and his, no desk to hide behind, no stack of paperwork to keep your hands busy…
You finally snapped.
“You’re playing with me.”
The words came out too fast. Too sharp. They surprised even you.
His gaze—calm and unreadable—didn’t shift.
“…Am I?” he said, voice quiet.
You felt your throat tighten. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You flirt. You smirk. You watch me like you know what I’m gonna say before I say it. But you never say anything real. It’s all a game to you.”
Silence.
You should’ve stopped. But your heart was pounding now—racing, furious—and it all came tumbling out.
“I can’t tell if you’re being kind or cruel. And it’s driving me insane.”
He set his empty bento down.
Then stood.
You froze.
He crossed the space slowly, crouching in front of you. His knees brushed yours, close enough that your breath hitched. You tried to look away—don’t, your instincts screamed, don’t let this mean anything—but his fingers caught your chin.
Gently.
Firmly.
He tilted your face toward his.
And when he spoke—low, even, and dead serious—it didn’t sound like a joke.
“You think I’d let anyone else talk to me like that?”
Your lips parted. Your voice caught.
“I don’t…” you tried.
“You think I let people in like this?” he asked again, the edge of his voice dark and warm. “Let them close?”
You blinked, stunned. “I—I don’t know what you’re saying—”
He reached for your hand.
You let him.
He brought it up—slow, deliberate—and placed it against his chest. Right over his heart.
Beneath the layers of uniform and silk undershirt, you could feel it.
Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.
Not slow.
Not lazy.
Fast.
Strong.
It made your stomach twist.
“I feel it,” he said softly, like a truth dragged from deep waters. “Same as you.”
Your breath caught.
His eyes—deep brown and golden with the window light—held yours without blinking.
“I don’t say it,” he murmured. “’Cause if I do, there’s no taking it back.”
The weight of it crashed over you. You felt it in your chest. Your fingertips. The heat in your face. You hadn’t expected this. Not like this.
But he wasn’t done.
“I like you.”
The words were simple. But devastating.
Your eyes widened.
“I’ve liked you longer than I should’ve,” he continued, fingers still wrapped around yours. “And I thought if I joked, if I danced around it long enough, maybe it’d pass. But it didn’t.”
His voice lowered.
“And now every time you sigh, or snap, or throw a file at my head—I want more.”
You couldn’t breathe.
“Kizaru…”
“Borsalino,” he corrected gently. “Say it. Just once.”
You swallowed.
“…Borsalino.”
He exhaled like you’d pulled the trigger on something dangerous.
And then he kissed you.
Soft. Controlled. Still with that quiet, calculated touch—like he knew exactly how much to give, how far to lean in. But his hand trembled slightly where it held yours.
The annual military ball presents you with something unexpected.
Song: "I'm Your Man" -Leonard Cohen
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Kizaru x Fem!Reader
CW: Suggestive! (Kind of? Not really 😬)
Word count: 1.1k
My current obsession is Kizaru, so I whipped up something 🙂↕️ Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading :)
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It was the annual military ball, people dancing, music loud, glasses clinking. The lively energy in the air buzzing around. Furthermore, the smell of alcohol in the air, the warm lighting, and looking around to see groups of men in their dress uniforms and women in elegant dresses. The summer heat slipped through the vents as the night went on. A cool breeze from someone passing by you hit the back of your neck as you sipped slightly from the alcoholic beverage infront of you.
Seeing as you just got promoted from Rear Admrial to Vice, you were sitting at the table with your fellow co-workers, the smell of Doll's perfume mixed with Smoker's cigar hitting your nose, Tashigi bickering for him to put it out at a formal event. Eventually, getting sick of sitting there you got up, making your way to the bar to grab another drink. Everyone else was having fun, why don't you?
Leaning up against the bar you simply ask the bartender for your drink of choice, a small smile on your face, not aware of the conversation going on across the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kizaru." Kuzan said, snapping Kizaru's attention back towards him. Humming with a questioning tone, Kizaru looked back at the bar.
"You gon' keep staring at her, or make a move?" Kuzan said teasingly, catching Kizaru's attention again.
"No clue what youre talkin' bout Kuzan." He almost snapped back, a stark contrast from the usual 'laid back' Kizaru.
"Oh cmon', you've been eyeing her the whole damn night-" Kuzan spoke, getting cut off by a glare from Kizaru. A moment went by before Kizaru set his empty glass of rum on the table, and stood up. Before Kuzan could start to say something again, Kizaru walked over to the bar sliding his arms smoothly against the wooden surface beside you.
"Rum. Neat, please." You heard a familar voice say. Looking beside you, to see one of the 3 admirals already looking at you.
Borsalino Kizaru. One of the big 3. You had been on a couple missions with him. You've made small talk with him before obviously considering you were a higher ranking official as well. A couple conversations at that. Never hung out socially though.
"Vice Admiral" He spoke, greeting you. "Congrats on the promotion, hm?" Kizaru said as he managed to keep his gaze on your presence. "Thankyou Sir" You simply said, a small smile formed on your face. Looking away from him, still feeling his eyes lingering on you, you looked back towards him.
"Havin' a good time, I'd suppose?" He asked, that normal almost teasing, cocky tone he had to his voice. It was kind of hot. You would no way in hell admit that though.
"It's alright" You said, looking around at the bustling room around you "You?" reciprocating the question. "It's mediocre...would be better if you said yes to a dance." He said, voice teasing.
Your heart damn near dropped. The Admiral, Kizaru at that was asking for a dance from you. So what did you do?
"Okay. I say yes then."
Kizaru let out a small smirk at your words and before either of you could get your drinks, he smoothly reached his hand out to grab you. Rightfully so, you placed your hand in his as he guided you both to the ballroom floor. One hand on your waist and the other interlocking fingers with you. Gently and smoothly guiding you through the movements. The busy environment around you two faded into the background as the chemistry you shared became the loudest thing in the room.
"I'm suprised you asked me to dance." You said, looking up at him, stepping side to side, then back and forth.
"Oh? And why is that?" He asked, leaning closer towards your face just for a moment.
"Don't know, just took me by suprise." You simply said, but the real reason was clear. He was one of the 3 Admirals. Of course you're suprised.
"Why wouldn't I want a dance with a beautiful woman?" He said teasingly and quietly so no one else would hear, seeing a dark shade of embarassment pop on your face.
"Thankyou" You said quietly, accepting the compliment "Is it insubordination if I say you look handsome yourself?" You said, pointing at the obvious fraternization rule within the military.
"I make the rules-" He said as he gently spun you around, bringing you back close "I say it's not." A slight smirk on his face as he spoke.
"Good." You boldy said, returning his smirk.
After a moment of dancing, enjoying the moment, he spoke again. This time in a lower, almost whisper "How'dya feel about spending some time with me after this thing is over?" He shot.
What? Did he seriously just ask you that? Your brain almost went blank for a second before answering "You're asking me to hang out with you?" You asked.
"Maybe." He said leaning down towards your ear a bit, a low voice "I want to get to know you, y/n." His grip tightened on your waist as he managed to get closer somehow, both of you almost pressed up against eachother.
"Then yes." You simply said, looking back up at him and smiling. He faintly smiled back at you, that normal cocky grin on his face, but something else behind it. Almost...awe.
"Great." He said as the music slowly faded out, a Marine Captain on the stage, a mic in his hand.
"Can everyone gather up, please?" The Marine asked, the slight vibrations from the mic on the speakers sending chills up your spine. You looked back at Kizaru as he grinned at you.
"That's my cue." He said, slowly bringing both of your interlocked hands down and slightly making the grip on your waist firmer. He bent down to your ear and whispered.
"Come find me after this thing is over, and we can get out of here, yes?" He said, softly. Handling you gently.
"Is that an order?" You asked, a slick expression followed it.
"Yes." He said leaning back slightly from your ear to see the cocky look on your face, his throat tightening at your expression.
"Then yes sir." You simply said, the same expression displayed. After you spoke, you felt his fingers untwine from yours, and his hand glided off your waist. The warmth that was there now replaced with only the memory.
"See ya." He said, as he walked away before you could get the chance to say anything else. You stood there completely frozen. Did that just happen? The bustling background fading you back into reality.
"Vice Admiral-" You heard a women speak from behind you, turning around you locked eyes with her.
"You still want that drink?" She asked, leaning slightly on the bar. You responded.
"Yes, please."
Ughhhhh the thought of him 😵💫 (Hes lwk corrupting my brain) Let me know your opinions on a Part 2! :)
