A/N: so since I've been sick for almost two weeks now I didn't get a whole story done and only managed to scribble some short snippets down and this is the result of me experimenting. I have never done something like this before so here's to the first try. You can thank @hakiofdreams for the character selection and the idea. Its basically one scenario for 5 different characters. Oh and sorry if I messed Lucci, Mihawk and Zoro up I usually don't write for them (and please no more requests for Mihawk and Lucci)
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But during a conference things get out of hand.
Warnings: none really, sfw, maybe some slight tinie tiny bit of angst, not proofread and I'm really sorry if it sucks π
Characters: Law; Zoro; Sir Crocodile; Lucci; Mihawk (all separately) x GnReader
Crocodile:
You hadnβt meant to touch him.
The conference room was full of killers, and you had stayed quiet, unreadable as you were told because that was your strength. You were a broker one of the youngest allowed in this blood-soaked circle, not because of strength, but because you knew when to keep your damn mouth shut.
Except for when your fingers grazed his.
It had been a fleeting moment someone bumped your chair, your balance faltered, and your hand caught the edge of the armrest next to you. Except it wasnβt empty. Crocodile was already seated there, cigar in hand, gold hook resting on the table.
You touched his skin.
And everything shifted.
The vision hit like a freight ship.
You stood on a sandstorm-swept cliff, wind howling like a banshee. Crocodile was in front of you, bleeding, furious but not at you.
"Donβt you dare - donβt you fucking dare leave me," he growled.
You took a staggering step toward him. He grabbed your hand pressed his forehead to yours.
"Youβre all I have left."
And then it was over.
Your fingers recoiled like youβd been burned. Crocodile glanced at you sharply. The eye contact was brief, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze sharpened, a predator smelling a shift in the wind.
You forced yourself to look away. Pretended to jot notes but your hand, it trembled.
Later that night you were alone on the balcony of the summit villa, nursing a glass of wine and a headache. The sea below was black and endless and you were too lost in thoughts to hear him approach.
"You touched me."
You didnβt look back. βI lost my balance.β
Crocodile exhaled smoke behind you. It curled over your shoulder like a living thing.
"You saw something."
Silence.
He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt it. His presence was heavy, charged.
"Your Devil Fruit," he said slowly. "The rumors are true."
You turned then, eyes meeting his. "You were warned not to touch me."
His lips curled into something like a smirk but there was no humor in it. "I donβt fear little parlor tricks, little flower."
"Itβs not a trick. I saw your desire."
You watched his expression and saw a flicker of tension, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.
You went on anyway. "You donβt want power. Or revenge. You wantβ¦.someone."
He flicked ash over the railing. "Lust is human." he said calmly, unimpressed even.
"It wasnβt lust."
Now he looked at you fully. Dark eyes, smoldering with something far more dangerous than anger.
"Then you saw too much." Was all he said before he walked away again.
The days that followed were hell.
Crocodile made sure to stay out of "touching range", but he hovered, always in your periphery. Always watching.
You felt it in the way your skin prickled. The way he lingered too long in every meeting. The way he said your name, like it was a secret he refused to keep.
And worse, the way he looked at you now was not indifferent.
You saw it, a piece of him no one else did. Something he buried deep under years of blood and sand and arrogance.
That made you dangerous.
But you couldnβt stop thinking about that vision. Not just what he wanted, but how desperately he wanted it. How broken and raw his voice had been when he said it.
"Youβre all I have left."
The breaking point came the next night in the garden.
It was late. You were alone again - or so you thought.
"You donβt sleep much."
You turned. "And you donβt leave me alone." You said glaninc briefly at him.
He looked tired. Less composed. Shirt open at the throat. Cigar forgotten.
"Why?" you asked. "Why do you keep circling me like a hawk?"
"Because you took something from me," he said vpice low as he stepped closer to you.
"What?" You asked blinking confused.
He didnβt answer right away.
Instead, he reached out and this time, he touched you on purpose. Bare fingers, sliding along yours.
Another vision hit:
You, standing in the rain, bloodied, but alive. Him, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand, thumb caressing your skin. His hook protectively at your back like an oath.
"Iβll protect you. Even if it kills me."
You gasped as the vision ended.
He didnβt let go. "You saw what I didnβt want anyone to know," he murmured. "That Iβm tired of pretending I feel nothing."
"Why me?" you asked voice trembling, body shaking.
A beat of silence.
"Because you didnβt flinch," he said. "Even now, you look at me like Iβm still a man."
"Are you?" you asked voice cracking
His lips twitched. "Would it matter?"
You didnβt answer just looked at him and he leaned in. Foreheads so close, breaths warm and mingling.
"You scare the hell out of me," you whispered.
"Good," he said. "That makes us even."
And then he closed the gap between you two. The kiss was a mistake, it was desperate, messy. Like trying to drown a fire and you pushed him away the first time. He let you, smirking, but not too far.
The second kiss wasnβt a mistake as you pulled him back giving in to the temptation, the desire, the need.
They said you tamed a monster.
They were wrong.
He was still a monster.
But now, when he burned the world, he burned it for you.
And when his enemies came too close, they didnβt face a sandstorm.
They faced a man willing to destroy the world just to keep your hands from shaking.
You stood in a candle-lit hall surrounded by the most dangerous men on the Grand Line, playing the part of a neutral mediator.
You didnβt expect him to be there or well maybe you did but you had just hoped he wouldnβt.
Dracule Mihawk. The Greatest Swordsman. Dressed in black and crimson, leaning against the far wall like a painting come to life.
He radiated silence. Precision. Control.
You made a point to avoid him after your last encounters with him. But fate didnβt care about your plans.
The chaos began when someone bumped into you, a minor captain, flailing, spilling wine.
You stumbled back and straight into Mihawk.
A bare hand caught your wrist. Just for a second.
And that was all it took for the vision hit you like a blade.
You, barefoot in his castle. Dressed in silk. Standing in front of a fire, wrapped in his coat. Mihawk behind you, eyes unreadable, fingers brushing your jaw.
"Stay," he murmured in the dream.
It was the most intimate thing you had ever seen from anyone, especially him.
And when you jolted back to reality, his gaze locked on you like he knew.
You quickly pulled away. "I-Iβm fine, Iβm sorry," you muttered, voice brittle.
He said nothing. But his stare lingered too long.
Later that night, you found yourself alone in the garden beneath the moonlight, trying to slow your racing heart. He found you again, silent as shadow.
"You saw something," Mihawk said, voice low and cutting. Not a question. A fact.
Your mouth went dry.
"I didnβt mean to," you admitted. "It only happens with skin contact."
"Interesting," he replied, stepping closer. "And what did you see?"
You looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating⦠but something flickered behind his eyes. Hope? Fear? Annoyance?
"You were⦠home," you said carefully. "At peace."
That was not entirely a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth.
But he accepted it. Barely.
"Keep your distance from now on," he said. "I donβt need you reading my mind."
"You think I want to?" you snapped. "I see things I never asked for. Every handshake, every shove, every accidental brushβ¦..itβs a flood of everyoneβs secrets. Do you know what that feels like?"
Mihawkβs expression didnβt change.
But his voice softened just slightly. "No. But I understand the cost of power."
He left before you could answer.
Over the next days, he avoided you. And you avoided him.
Except when you didnβt.
He lingered longer during briefings. Sat closer at the table. Your eyes met too often to be coincidence.
And then, it happened again.
A thunderstorm cracked over the island. You slipped on the rain-slick stone and someone caught youβ¦β¦.him again.
The vision rushed in.
You, in his castle again, dinner together, candles lit, a glass of wine before you, untouched because you were busyβ¦β¦kissing him, like it was the end of the world.
You jerked back, breathless, trembling.
He didnβt let go.
"Tell me," he said.
Your voice shook. "You want something you think youβre not allowed to have."
"Because itβs dangerous," he whispered. "Because I always win. And Iβm afraid Iβd ruin you."
You looked up, and your heart cracked open like a wound.
"Then stop touching me," you said. "Or stop pretending you donβt care."
The summit ended with deals were made and for once no blood spilled. But he didnβt leave.
He found you at the edge of the cliffside the next night. Wind in your hair. Sand crunching beneath your boots.
"I donβt know how to love gently," he said.
You turned. "I donβt need gentle. I need real."
Mihawk reached for you, slowly this time, and you let him. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the vision didnβt hit you like a wave.
This time, it bloomed.
It showed a future. A choice he had made. Not a fantasy, not a secret longing, just him, choosing you.
And for once, you saw your own desire reflected back.
When the vision ended, he looked down at you and he kissed you, it wasnβt fire. It wasnβt war. It was something infinitely more dangerous.
Lucci sat across from you now at a round conference table. He was silent, unreadable, flanked by the pigeon that watched you just as closely as its master. You kept your gloves on. Youβve heard the stories about CP0βs attack dog. Stoic. Merciless. Efficient.
Everytime you crossed paths with him you were surprised all over with how beautiful he was.
Not soft, never that. But there was a deadly grace in his stillness, the way his eyes rested like the flat of a blade on your skin. It was a look that said he knew what you were. What you were hiding.
You were extra careful. Until the second day of negotiations.
It happened fast. A flash of chaos during the midday meeting, two idiots broke into an argument, and someone flipped the table. You were shoved sideways, stumbling, and reaching out blindly to steady yourself.
Your bare hand crashed into Lucciβs wrist.
Shit.
Your world snapped away and the vision flashed before your eyes, flooding your senses.
Red silk sheets and low candlelight. Lucci was leaning against the headboard, half undressed, but it was not the lust that stole your breath, it was the quiet.
You were there, beside him. Sleeping against his chest like you belonged there, his arm around you, watching you, like he was afraid youβd vanish.
A calloused hand brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite care, and in that moment, Lucci, the monster, the cipher, the assassin, looked more vulnerable than anyone youβve ever seen.
He wanted peace. He wanted you.
And heβd never allow himself either.
The vision collapsed.
You ripped your hand back like youβve been burned. Lucciβs expression didnβt change. Not one fraction.
But he knew.
You saw it.
After that you avoided him for the rest of the day. You sat far away from him instead, engaging in dry trade debates you barely heared. But Lucci was never far. Every time you glanced up, he was there in the corner, always watching. Not speaking. Not moving.
You dreamt of the vision that night. Of his hand brushing your cheek. Of a silence that felt like safety only to wake up breathless.
The next morning, he cornered you.
Not roughly, he simply appeared in the hallway outside your suite, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. The hallway was empty and the air was sharp with frost.
"I wonβt ask what you saw," he said, his voice low and even, making you tense.
"But I would like to know," he added, stepping forward, "why it disturbed you."
Your throat tightened. "You touched me," you said carefully. "I donβt like that."
"You touched me," he corrected. "The reaction wasnβt fear. It was pity."
That hit a nerve. "So now you read minds too?" You asked a little harshly.
"No," he said, "just yours."
You wanted to deny it. You wanted to insult him. But his tone wasnβt cruel it wasβ¦..curious. Cautious, even.
"Itβs dangerous for people to know what others want," he grumbled tilting his head, making you clench your fists. "Especially when what they want is you."
The silence between you was suffocating. Your heart hammered behind your ribs like it was trying to escape. "It doesnβt matter," you whispered. "Youβll never act on it."
He took one slow step forward. "Youβre right." He said bluntly.
His presence was overwhelming, an aura of silent dominance, raw and coiled. But there was a strange gentleness to it now. A restraint that rattled you more than any threat could.
"You didnβt see a fantasy," he murmured. "You saw a possibility. Thatβs whatβs dangerous."
And with that, he left.
The summit ended with a treaty. You should have felt relieved but instead you felt hollow.
You caught Lucci watching you again as the final ships left the port. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, unblinking eyes, held something you now understood.
Need. Not obsession, not hunger. Just Need.
You found a note tucked into your room before you left.
"You saw me unarmed. No one else ever has. That should frighten you. But if it doesnβt, come find me. Iβll be waiting. βR.L."
You didnβt sleep that night, you just sat with the letter in your lap, fingers trembling above your gloves.
Youβve always feared touch. But now? You feared the idea of never being touched by him again and so you decided to go after him.
The room reeked of tension, gunpowder, old grudges, and barely veiled threats. It was supposed to be neutral ground, a temporary truce between pirate factions to discuss territory lines, enjoy the rum and food and make trades and deals. You didnβt trust any of it or them. Especially not the Straw Hats swordsman leaning against the wall like he owned the air around him.
Roronoa Zoro.
You had heard the stories, demon of the East Blue, three swords, no tolerance for weakness. You even saw him once in action and after that had maybe 2 or 3 run ins with him but that was it.
You expected cold glares and muscle-bound not his eyes to linger on you.
So when you handed him some documents for his Captain, Zoroβs hand briefly met yours and you froze as the vision set in slamming into you like cannon fire making your knees buckle under the force of it:
You - bloody, breathing hard, standing between Zoro and a faceless enemy. Your back to him, a sword in your hand, and defiance in your voice. βYouβll go through me first.β His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away out of danger not because he didnβt trust you or because he thought you were weak but because he wanted to protect you to be your shield, to keep you from harm.
And then it shiftedβ¦..you, in a quiet moment, tucked beside him. Sleeping. His hand buried in your hair, body curled protectively around you, eyes closed but still guarding. He didnβt just want your body.
He wanted to protect you, he wanted your loyalty. Your fire. Your presence. He wanted you β all of you.
When you blinked, the vision snapped away. The noise around you from the other pirates was still there. No one noticed, no one paid attention. Except Zoro himself.
His gaze had sharpened and you pulled your hand back fast. Too fast, causing his brow to furrow.
That night you barely slept. The vision kept replaying in your head β how rare it had been. How genuine.
It made no sense. He barely knew you. Why would his desire involve you bleeding for him? Sleeping beside him? Protecting you like you were something sacred?
The next morning you kept catching him watching you after that. Silent. Focused. Not aggressive, but intense.
And you tried to avoid himβ¦..but he didnβt let you.
"Why did you flinch?" he asked, his voice came out of the shadows while you were walking alone, heading back to the guest quarters. He stepped out from between two buildings like heβd been waiting.
"I didnβt," you lied.
He stared at you, then tilted his head. "You looked like you saw a ghost, when we touched."
"I donβt like being touched," you explained forcing a smile.
"Bullshit," he hissed.
"Why do you care?" you asked inhaling sharply.
Zoroβs mouth opened, but he paused because he didnβt have a snarky answer.
"I donβt know," he said, finally. "But Iβve been thinking about it too damn much."
You saw the storm in his eyes and you knew you shouldnβt but he was just as confused and torn as you were and so you told him your secret.
"The Devil Fruit I ateβ¦ shows me what people want. If they touch me." You curled your fingers into your gloves. "I donβt mean surface-level stuff. I mean their deepest desire."
"So⦠you saw mine?" he asked not blinking.
You nodded once.
He looked away. "What was it?"
"Iβm not telling you."
"That bad?"
"No. That personal."
"Then I mustβve looked pathetic." He murmured jaw clenching.
You stepped forward, a little closer to him. "No. Thatβs the problem. You didnβt."
He looked at you then, really looked. "Then whatβs the problem?"
You swallowed hard looking at him before answering. "It made me want it too."
Silence.
"What did you see?" he asked again now more persistent.
Your heart hammered. You reached up, tugged one glove off slowly, deliberately.
βTouch me again and find out.β
He stared but then stepped forward.
His hand lifted and for once, it wasnβt a brush, it was a grasp, fingers curling over yours like he needed to hold something steady. Maybe himself.
And you shared the vision with him:
You. His. In every way that mattered.
Fighting back to back. Him protecting you. Sleeping side by side. Arguing and laughing and bleeding and living.
The sword at your hip matched his. The way he held you wasnβt lust, it was fierce belonging.
You werenβt his weakness. You were his anchor.
He dropped your hand like it burned him and backed away a step, breathing hard.
But this time it was you who took a step closer to him. "I saw you," you whispered. "And I didnβt want to run. I wanted to be in that vision."
He blinked once. Then twice.
And suddenly almost out of nowhere he kissed you.
It wasnβt elegant or practiced. It was the kind of kiss you gave when you didnβt have words, when you had seen something terrifying and beautiful and wanted to make it real.
After that you went with him, to stay close, to make the vision, the desire a reality. You never told the others what your fruit did though. You didnβt need to. Zoro never left your side. He didnβt say much but he didnβt need to.
And he always made sure to touch you, your bare skin because he wanted you to see it, see what he wanted, see what he desired, see how much he wanted you.
Why the hell were you in a room with infamous pirates, locked in a tense alliance negotiation, and thought it was a good idea to be bare-handed?
Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat at the circular table. Law was directly across from you, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. You had met him once before during a cargo handoff and you were sure he didn't remember that. But you did.
Your fingers brushed a silver coin on the table.
"Keep your hands still," Law said without looking at you.
You froze, embarrassed. His voice was quiet but stern, laced with a kind of quiet authority that made the others look over.
You retracted your hand and folded it in your lap.
"Donβt be so harsh," one of the other pirates muttered at Law with a grin. "The little one flinched like you growled."
Law didnβt respond. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary.
Hours passed. The summit devolved into shouting, threats, and chest-puffing. You remained silent, observing. Calm. Neutral.
Until someone, an impatient mercenary with more ego than brains, tripped behind your chair.
You reached to steady yourself. Your hand flew out andβ¦.Law grabbed your wrist.
The world split open and your vision blurred and suddenly you saw his desire.
A cold room. Snow against steel walls. You, panting, drenched, eyes furious. He reached for you, desperate. A plea in his voice. "Donβt walk away. Stay. Just stay this time."
You stood your ground, shaking your head, tears in your eyes.
"You donβt need me, Law."
His hand cupped your jaw. Gentle. Trembling.
"I do. I just donβt know how to say it without destroying you."
The vision snapped shut like a trapdoor and you gasped, ripping your arm away, your knees nearly giving out.
Lawβs brows furrowed. "What did you see?" He urged to know.
Shit. He knew.
You didnβt say anything just got up and walked out of the room.
You found him later that night on the edge of the island cliff, the ocean churning below like a storm waiting for permission.
"You didnβt answer my question," he said without turning.
You stayed back. "I didnβt think youβd actually know what my power does."
"I make it a point to know what everyone in the room is capable of," he said. "But I didnβt think youβd use it. Thought you were smarter than that."
"I didnβt mean to."
His head tilted slightly, dark hair blowing in the wind. "Then tell me. What did you see?"
You hesitated for a moment eyes shifting towards the ground. "You⦠asking me to stay."
He went quiet. So did the wind. And the waves in the ocean beneath it seemed.
"And what did you say?" he asked softly.
"I said you didnβt need me."
His laugh was low, bitter. "Typical. Even in my dreams, I drive people away,"
"No," you said quickly. "That wasnβtβ¦.It wasnβt like that. Youβ¦ You were scared of hurting me. Thatβs not selfish. Thatβs human."
Law turned towards you, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.
"I didnβt want you to see that," he said.
"I didnβt want to see it either," you replied, truth cutting between you. "Because now I canβt stop thinking about it."
He began avoiding you after that, making sure to keep his distance. His eyes were colder, calculations behind every word. But it wasnβt hatred, it was fear. You knew too much now. You had seen a version of him he barely admitted to himself.
And you couldnβt forget it.
You saw it in the way he stared at your hands, never touching you again.
In the way he tensed every time you stood near. He hadnβt spoken of the vision since, but you felt it constantly, the weight of possibility, just out of reach.
Until you broke first.
You cornered him one evening, at the medical bay. Just the two of you, surrounded by clean linens and the quiet hum of solitude.
"I canβt keep pretending I didnβt see it," you said. "Didnβt see what you want."
Law leaned against the counter, silent.
"You want someone who stays," you continued, stepping closer. "You want to let someone in. But you donβt know how. And youβre terrified that if you try, youβll break them. That Iβll break."
His jaw clenched but you kept going. "Iβm not afraid of you, Law. Iβm afraid of how much I want to reach for you."
His head lifted, eyes sharp. "Donβt," he said firmly.
"Why not?"
"Because Iβm already thinking about what Iβd do to keep you."
The confession cracked the silence like thunder. He stepped closer, finally, hand raised, not touching, just hovering near your face.
"Iβve spent years pushing people away because it was easier. Cleaner. You saw what I wantedβ¦ and now I canβt stop imagining it."
"Then take it," you whispered. "Just donβt lie to yourself anymore."
And for the first time, he touched you willingly.
No vision came.
Because you didnβt need to see his desire anymore.
some storybeats I made for @reservoirmonks' incredible fic swift and spotlit strangers like 2 years ago for OP fashion zine, which I still look upon very fondly, it is always an absolute joy to collab and bring chaos and rancidity to the facility <33
I didn't remember them being so rough but it was very much at the start of my artblock so I guess it makes sense. Drawings are a biiiit rough to look at, but I still rly like the mood and colours of them <33
