Captain for a Day
Female reader x Shanks
Requested by @bunny-blanc
Plot: You wake up in Shanks’s body and must impersonate him for the day.
A broad hand rose in front of your face.
Your hand.
Except it was not yours.
There were scars across the knuckles. The fingers were larger than you remembered.
You sat up too quickly.
The room swung. Your weight shifted toward the left, but there was nothing there to catch you. You hit the floor and nearly took the bedside table with you.
Across the room, someone gasped.
You looked up and saw yourself standing beside the desk.
Shanks wore your pajamas. Your hair hung loose around his shoulders. Both of your hands were pressed over your mouth, though the alarm in your face did not last long.
His eyes moved over you.
Then he laughed.
The sound came out in your voice.
You pushed yourself upright using his right arm. “Stop that.”
Shanks lowered your hands. “I’m sorry.”
He was not sorry.
“You’re smiling.”
“I’ve never heard myself complain from across the room before.”
You tried to stand. Shanks’s body responded with more strength than you expected, launching you upright hard enough that you stumbled into the bedpost.
His smile widened.
“Say one more thing.”
Shanks reached up and touched your hair.
Your hair.
“Soft,” he said.
You stared at him.
He slowly removed his hand.
A knock sounded at the cabin door before you could threaten him properly.
“Boss?” Hongo called. “The ship from Brindle Cay was spotted. Captain Renner should be aboard within the hour.”
You and Shanks looked at each other.
Shanks’s amusement faded.
You pointed at the door. “Fix this.”
“I don’t think Hongo caused it.”
“The relic.”
Shanks glanced toward the small stone disk lying on the desk. The previous evening, both of you had touched it while arguing over whether it belonged in his cabin or locked below deck. It had flashed once, gone dark, and seemed harmless afterward.
Shanks picked it up with your hand.
Nothing happened.
The door opened.
Hongo stepped inside, took one look at the room, and stopped.
You stood beside the bed in Shanks’s body, wearing only his trousers. Shanks stood at the desk, holding the relic and inspecting your fingernails.
Hongo closed the door behind him.
“How long?” he asked.
“We just woke up,” you said.
Hongo’s attention moved to Shanks.
Shanks lifted one of your hands. “She has a small scar on this finger.”
You crossed the room and snatched your hand away from him.
“You’ll need to impersonate him,” Hongo said.
“No.”
You looked at Shanks.
“No,” you repeated.
Shanks tied the robe at your waist with visible satisfaction. “You’ll be excellent.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Some parts.”
You narrowed your eyes.
Hongo picked up the relic. “I’ll work on reversing it.”
Shanks smiled with your mouth.
You disliked how convincing it looked.
An hour later, you sat in Shanks’s chair at the head of the meeting table.
His boots were too large. His coat would not remain on your shoulder. His sword felt heavy at your hip.
Beckman stood near the windows, smoking.
He had recognized the problem the moment you refused the bottle he offered.
Lucky had recognized it when Shanks stole food from his plate walked away before he could object.
Now they had scattered around the room under the pretense of guarding the negotiation.
Most of them were watching you.
Shanks stood behind your chair, dressed in your clothes. He had pinned your hair back badly, leaving one side higher than the other.
You had told him twice.
He had claimed it was intentional.
Captain Renner entered with two officers.
“Red-Hair.”
You nodded.
Renner waited.
You remembered that Shanks usually smiled when welcoming allies. You attempted one.
Beckman coughed into his fist.
You looked toward him.
“Something in my throat,” he said.
You turned back to Renner and decided not to smile again.
The negotiations began.
At first, you tried to think of what Shanks would say. That proved impossible. Shanks rarely followed the same approach twice, and the man currently occupying your body offered no useful guidance.
When Renner proposed a route through waters controlled by a hostile fleet, Shanks caught your eye and silently mimed drinking from a bottle.
You ignored him.
Instead, you asked Renner what he expected to gain from an agreement that endangered only your crew.
He began explaining.
You let him.
The longer you remained silent, the more details he volunteered. He adjusted his cuffs. He changed the route twice. By the time he stopped speaking, he had weakened his own proposal considerably.
You leaned back.
The chair creaked under Shanks’s weight.
Renner cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should reconsider the eastern passage.”
“That would be sensible,” you said.
From beside the window, Beckman gave a slight nod.
You almost relaxed.
Then Renner noticed Shanks.
His gaze moved over your body with open interest.
“And who is this?”
You felt Shanks go still behind you.
“My companion,” you said.
Renner smiled at him. “You’ve been quiet.”
Shanks lowered your eyes, but there was nothing modest in the expression. His mouth had tightened.
“I was listening,” he said in your voice.
Renner seemed encouraged.
He addressed several more comments to Shanks, each more familiar than the last. Shanks answered politely at first, then with less patience each time. When Renner complimented your hair, he tucked it behind your ear with a sharper movement than necessary.
Lucky turned away to hide his face.
Renner eventually leaned back in his chair.
“You keep excellent company, Red-Hair. Perhaps she might show me the island while our crews finish loading supplies.”
Pressure rolled through the room.
One of Renner’s officers shifted in his seat.
You froze.
You had not reached for Shanks’s Haki. You did not know how.
Across from you, Renner’s smile faltered.
Shanks looked at you from inside your body, jaw tight.
Then you understood.
His body was reacting to him.
You placed Shanks’s hand flat on the table. The wood creaked beneath your palm.
“She won’t.”
Renner glanced between you and Shanks. “I meant no offense.”
“You asked for her as though she were part of the agreement.”
The last trace of warmth disappeared from Renner’s face.
You did not raise your voice.
“She decides where she goes,” you continued. “You will not ask me for permission to have her.”
Renner lowered his gaze. “Understood.”
The meeting ended soon after. The moment the door closed behind him, the crew began leaving through every available exit.
Beckman paused near you.
“You did well.”
You looked toward Shanks. “Did I?”
“You frightened him without breaking the table.”
Beckman glanced at the shallow impression beneath your hand. “Mostly.”
Then he left.
Shanks waited until you were alone before walking around the table.
He stopped in front of you.
“You get that often?”
You looked at him. “What?”
“Men speaking to you like that.”
“Sometimes.”
Your mouth tightened on his face.
“More than sometimes?”
You leaned back in his chair. “You usually don’t notice.”
“I noticed today.”
“You looked like you were smiling at him.”
Shanks rested your hip against the edge of the table. “I was deciding which part of his ship to sink.”
You stood and immediately had to adjust for his height. Shanks reached out with both of your hands and steadied you by the waist.
The contact felt strange. Familiar hands in the wrong place. Your own fingers resting against Shanks’s body.
Inside his body, you could feel how much tension he carried. His neck was stiff, his shoulders sore, and the muscles across his back tightened whenever you moved. Even his jaw ached from how often he kept it clenched.
“You ache,” you said.
Shanks looked up at you.
“All the time?”
“Not all the time.”
It was not a convincing answer.
“You never mention it.”
“There usually isn’t anything to be done.”
“You could still tell me.”
Shanks studied your face as though he had forgotten he was wearing it.
“I could,” he said.
A knock interrupted you.
Hongo entered carrying the relic between two cloths.
“It requires a shared admission,” he said. “Something withheld. Both of you touch it while speaking honestly.”
Shanks frowned. “We speak honestly.”
Outside the cabin, someone laughed loudly enough to be heard through the door.
Hongo set the relic on the table and left.
You placed Shanks’s hand against one side.
Shanks covered the other with yours.
You stared down at your joined hands.
“Sometimes,” you began, “I worry that people see me as something belonging to you before they see me as myself.”
Shanks stopped smiling.
The relic warmed beneath your palms.
His thumb moved over the back of your hand.
“I like when they know you’re with me,” he said. “I like it more than I should.”
The stone brightened.
“But I never want you to believe being mine is all you are.”
Light filled the room.
The floor vanished beneath you.
Then you were falling.
Shanks caught you against his chest with his right arm.
Your own body felt small after wearing his. Your knees weakened, and you grabbed his shirt until the room stopped moving.
Shanks looked down at himself, then at you.
Both of you remained still.
He touched your face carefully.
You lifted a hand to your hair and found three separate tangles.
“What did you do?”
“I pinned it back.”
“You tied it into knots.”
Shanks allowed you to push him toward the chair. He sat while you began pulling the pins free, placing each one on the table with increasing irritation.
His hand settled around your waist.
“You were a good captain,” he said.
You tugged sharply at one of the knots.
Shanks winced.
“You were a terrible companion.”
“I was charming.”
“You stole Lucky’s breakfast.”
You finally freed the last pin. Your hair fell around your shoulders.
Shanks started to pull you closer, but you moved behind the chair instead.
“Sit still.”
His brow lifted. “What are you doing?”
You placed both hands on his shoulders.
The tension you had felt while inside his body was still there, hard beneath your palms. You pressed your thumbs into the tight muscles at the base of his neck.
Shanks’s head tipped forward.
“That,” you said.
He went quiet as you worked slowly across his shoulders, easing the knots you now knew he carried there.
After a moment, his hand reached back and rested against your thigh.
“Be gentle with your captain.”
“You survived being me for an afternoon.”
“Barely.”
You leaned down and kissed the top of his head before returning your hands to his shoulders.
Shanks relaxed beneath them, though his grip remained around your leg.
Outside the cabin, Renner’s voice carried from the passage.
Shanks lifted his head.
You pushed it back down.
“Leave the ship alone.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
His shoulders moved beneath your hands with a quiet laugh.
