‼️Minor Do Not Interact‼️ I REBLOG/SHARE NSFW CONTENT •Lvl26•||•ISTP• ||•she/her•||•Hobbyist Artist•||•Rarely Active on Social Media•||•Very Lazy👍•|| •ONE PIECE FAN SINCE 2015• (Recently got back on the fandom, currently on EP 1139)
You’re a normal person with the unfortunate position of having him as your soulmate. You’ve never met the guy, but you’ve been hearing his inner thoughts most of your life, and he should absolutely be locked up.
Pull me Once Masterlist
An anthology for different men, all with the same goal: Tug the hair.
Who's Your Daddy Masterlist
Your mouth has a mind of its own when asked awkward questions. Freud is winning.
Not Today, Herpes Masterlist
You finally track your soulmate down. He's kissing someone else. You FLEE.
Child MC Fic's:
Miss Apothecary Masterlist
You are foremost, an apothecary. You are also a Crocus apprentice who has sneaked aboard the Oro Jackson. Shenanigans Ensue.
Red Haired Shanks
Red Sails (Chapter Story)
You'd spent a long time sailing the seas to escape a dark past. But with one small decision, you've piqued the interest of an Emperor of the Grand Line, and now you must make a choice.
Soul Shanked (Short Chapter Story)
At nine, you asked what a man was. Elder Gloriosa described a creature of chaos, charm, and cursed shoulder width. You swore an oath: no man would ever claim you.
Years later, as a respected Amazon Lily envoy, that oath dies the moment a glowing name—Shanks—appears on your palm. A soulmate mark. You panic. Shanks, naturally, celebrates.
“No Takebacks" (Drabble Series)
You joined the crew for berry, not to accidentally marry the world’s most chaotic, rum-soaked, and smug pirate captain. But somehow, here you are—dodging sea gods, brotherly charmers, and your own poor taste in men. Unfortunately for you, Shanks smells like trouble… and you said I do anyway.
A Single-Handed Disaster (One-shot)
On the docks, chaos reigns as Marines face impossible odds, and someone’s wrists might just end up in the wrong place.
Shamrock Figarland
With Sympathy, You Will Remarry: (Chapter Story)
Being a single widow in Mary Geoise is no small feat. A woman is expected to remarry quickly to secure her standing, and with a young daughter to consider, you enter the social ring with careful reluctance, more for her future than your own. What you do not know is that there is one man who has been waiting many years for this exact moment—and he has no intention of letting it pass.
Garling Figarland
A Lineage of Red: (Chapter Story)
In Mary Geoise, power gleams like polished marble, bloodlines pass as currency, and every smile is sharpened for war. Your mission is simple: survive the social circuit, gather intelligence, and escape unnoticed.
All goes well—until you catch the eyes of the handsome Commander of the God’s Knights—Saint Garling Figarland. You were supposed to be beneath his interest. Now you’re squarely in his sights.
The Figarland Retention Strategy: (Short Story)
The pay was unreasonable, the child was famously difficult, and the Supreme Commander of the Holy Knights was, unfortunately, exactly as advertised. You came to the Governess interview in the wrong coat, said the wrong things, and got the job anyway. You were going to do good work, save your money, and leave. The position was temporary. The child had other ideas. So, it turns out, did his father.
Dracule Mihawk
A Vintage Bouquet (Chapter Story)
Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you. This has some significant consequences when you accidentally marry him.
Benn Beckman
Beck and Call (Oneshot)
You're Beckman's favorite bartender, and perhaps the only person he waits for.
Pipe and Prejudice (Oneshot)
Pirate law says don’t screw the crew. Beckman says: not unless it’s him.
You just wanted a kiss. Maybe a date. Definitely a good time. Instead, you got involuntary celibacy, crew-wide surveillance, and one maddeningly attractive first mate who watches your love life like it owes him money.
This is a tale of: Pirate hypocrisy. Sexual tension. Emotional warfare. And Benn Beckman—armed, infuriating, and apparently making exactly one exception.
Beckman’s Law (Oneshot)
You’re a bounty hunter to rescue a kidnapped Kuja, you almost pull it off; until mid-escape your soulmark goes off like a siren.
On the other end? Benn Beckman.
(A Soul Shanked Epilogue)
Kuzan Aokiji
Operation Cold Front (Chapter Story)
Marineford’s New Year’s Bash was supposed to be harmless—drinks, bad singing, and a spontaneous midnight kiss. You weren’t planning on participating. You definitely weren’t planning on kissing someone.
Especially not an Admiral.
Tittygetton (Chapter Story)
Admiral Aokiji has discovered he has a fatal flaw. It's your chest.
Rob Lucci
Cyrano de Birderac Masterlist
How You Accidentally Got Romanced by Cipher Pol's Deadliest Duo: Featuring: Rob Lucci, the man who could kill you with a stapler, but primarily uses it to silently admire you from the other side of the office.
And Hattori, his smug little pigeon with no filter, no chill, and absolutely no authorization to be this romantic. Aka, his wingman.
Silvers Rayleigh
Cook Wanted (1), Crisis Found (2) (Two-shot)
All Pirate King Gol D. Roger wanted was a decent cook. Unfortunately, you fed them once.
Now you’re emotionally held hostage by the most chaotic crew on the sea, being aggressively courted by a half-shirted war criminal with excellent manners and terrible timing.
Rayleigh doesn’t just flirt. He haunts your kitchen like a respectful poltergeist, makes eye contact like it’s foreplay, and threatens anyone who compliments your hands.
Monkey D. Garp
The Sundress Incident (One-shot)
Vice Admiral Garp is undone by a sundress, strategic sabotage, and one very dangerous woman.
Good Boy (One-shot)
A field report from Loguetown sends Marine HQ into chaos when it reveals Garp was outsmarted, fainted, and found in a ridiculous hat. The real crime? Emotional damage, and possibly, love.
Rocks D. Xebec
'Ship Happens' (One-Shot)
You lost a Davy Back game and woke up navigating a warship full of war crimes. Now the captain wants to go to God Valley. You do not want to go to God Valley.
Marine Older Brother (Enzo)
Safe Harbour (Oneshot)
You met Emiliano first; loud, charming, all flash and no brakes. He grinned like the world owed him attention and flirted like it was a sport he intended to win. But it was Enzo you noticed. The older brother. The quiet one. His love is shaped by duty and devotion, built in the spaces between glances, in the quiet weight of callused hands.
Reader x Older Marine Brother (Enzo) Here's my love letter to One Piece's Fan Letter (and because, your honor, he's a cutie-patootie). The brothers are named Enzo and Emiliano here.
ETC Characters:
Poison Control: One Two
AO3 Link
The most feared Warden alive turns clumsy and tongue-tied whenever you—a respected and calm Marine Commander—visit for inspection. Meanwhile, you remain completely unaware that his stern silence hides a crush big enough to shake the entire prison.
pairings: yandere!straw hats x afab!reader, platonic!chopper, franky, platonic!jinbe, and platonic!brook, poly romance with sanji, nami, zoro, robin, usopp, and luffy
summary: last part of the honeymoon arc; a collection of different moments with various crew members, finally, three crew members plot and discuss in the background
content: relationship building, random moments with different characters, getting to know franky, brook and jinbe, fast relationship bonding, friendly times, yadere themes
wc: 5.9k
read part 1 here | read part 2 here | read part 3 here | read part 4 here
honeymoon arc part 1 | part 2 | part 3
18+ MDNI • 18+ MDNI • 18+ MDNI • 18+ MDNI •
You find Franky the same way you find most things on this ship—by tracking an unexpected sound. It starts as a steady rhythm, metal striking metal, precise and patient, echoing from the lower-deck workshop where his tools live and where he apparently spends the hours after breakfast on some project that demands intense focus and the occasional loud swear. Without really deciding to, you follow the noise down, drawn not by chaos but by construction, by the sense that something is being made.
The workshop door stands open, which you’ve already learned means Franky doesn’t mind interruptions. He’s not the sort to leave doors open by accident.
Inside, he’s bent over a worktable, back to you, both arms busy with machinery you can’t fully make out from the threshold. The room itself is extraordinary: every tool arranged with a precision at odds with Franky’s usual rough-and-ready look, each one labeled and within easy reach. The walls are plastered with diagrams that are part blueprint, part deeply personal sketchbook, the handwriting ranging from meticulous to near-illegible whenever a thought outran the pen.
You lean against the doorframe and examine the space and the drawings.
“You can come in,” Franky says without turning. “I can practically hear you studying.”
“I didn’t make any noise,” you reply, stepping in slowly as you look around.
“No, but the air changed.” He sets down his tool and straightens, showing off his tall frame, finally turning to face you. His expression is open, unguarded, a genuine pleasure that feels like his default mode.
“The air changed.” You repeat deadpan.
“I tell only truths,” he says simply—a calmer, more measured statement than the memory of him at your first full-ship dinner, arms flung wide as he shouted “super” at top volume.
You step inside, and the floor beneath your boots is warm from running machinery. The air smells of metal and oil and something faintly electric, beneath which lingers the ghost of wood shavings, a reminder of the ship’s older bones. Without asking, you drift toward the nearest wall of diagrams. Franky watches you, arms crossed, his face unreadable for a moment.
“These yours?” you ask, gesturing.
“Most of them.” He comes over to stand beside you, close enough to guide your eye but not to crowd. “That one’s Sunny’s original frame calculations. That there is the modification, and this row”—he sweeps his hand over a line of smaller sketches—“those are ideas I’m kicking around. Not building yet, just thinking.”
You study the thinking-about sketches. They’re looser, more exploratory than the technical drawings: lines repeating, revising, circling back to the same structural dilemma from different angles, the solution still out of reach. You recognize the process; it’s something you’ve done yourself on canvas, returning to the same composition until something clicks.
“Hmm,” you say lowly.
But Franky heard anyway, and looks from the sketches to you. “Got something to stay or something in your throat?”
You huff a laugh, giving him an annoyed side glance, before a smile cracks through as you turn back to look at the sketches before continuing.
“Our styles are alike. I can tell you’re not drawing what you already know—you’re drawing toward what you don’t know yet.” You hover your finger over one of the sketches. “This one, you haven’t solved it.”
“Not yet,” he replies, his tone steadier than usual, as if he’s listening in a new way.
“Can I ask what the problem is?”
He pauses, more thoughtful rather than hesitant, then pulls a stool over for you without asking, takes one himself, and begins.
First he explains in technical jargon; you catch about half of it and tell him so. He nods and restates it in terms of structure and balance, of weight meeting function, of building something to do its job without turning into something else. By the third version, it all clicks. You lean forward, surprising yourself with detailed questions. He answers with growing animation, hands sketching in the air, the workshop alive with the energy of someone in their element, finally being listened to.
“What if the weight distribution started here,” you say, pointing at his drawing, “and the support ran diagonally instead of—”
He stops, studies the spot you’ve indicated, brow furrowing not in dismissal but in the precise calculation of an engineer testing a new idea.
“Huh,” he murmurs.
“Too simple?”
“No, I just—” He reaches for a pencil; you slide back to give him room, and he redraws over the original with the focused speed of someone following a thread. “If it starts here, the load transfers down through—fuck. That actually—”
He keeps sketching while you watch, chin in hand. The workshop is warm, the ship gently rocking, and it hits you: this is what Franky sounds like when he’s not being loud, when he’s just doing the thing he loves.
“You should have been an engineer,” he says without looking up.
“I make things,” you reply. “Different tools but same instinct.”
He glances at you with a direct, warm look, the look of someone recognizing a kindred spark. “Yeah. Exactly that.”
Then he leads you through the workshop; not a formal tour, since he’s not performing, just moving through a space he knows completely, answering your questions and occasionally asking about materials or structural properties in your own work. Two hours pass without either of you noticing.
When you finally emerge into the brighter corridor, Franky walks you out. There’s an ease between you now that wasn’t there this morning.
“Come back tomorrow,” he says. Not a question, not exactly an invitation, just offered.
“Yeah,” you say. “I will.”
He nods once, satisfied, and steps back inside.
You stand in the corridor for a moment, still feeling the warmth of the workshop on your skin, and think: there you are. The quiet version of him, beneath the volume. You’ve found his frequency, and you now know how to tune in.
‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿
Brook finds you instead of the other way around.
You're on deck in the late afternoon, sketchbook open, pencil moving with instinct rather than intention, trying to catch the specific quality of light on the water at this exact hour. You hear him before you see him; the careful tap of his cane, and then music, appearing around him the way it always does, as if the air simply decides to have a melody when he's nearby.
He settles into the chair beside you and plays softly, not for you but alongside you, the harmonica weaving itself into the afternoon rather than interrupting it. You keep drawing as several easy minutes pass before either of you speaks.
"May I?" he asks, nodding toward the sketchbook once he notices you slowed down.
You tilt it toward him. He looks for a long moment, and the sound he makes — low, appreciative, somewhere between a hum and a sigh — lands somewhere genuine.
"You draw how it feels," he says. "Not just how it looks."
"You play the same way," you tell him. "Just now, you weren't playing the song. You were playing the feeling of the afternoon." A small laugh, “the perfect soundtrack.”
He goes still, almost an intimidating figure, staring you straight on, with no clear expression or the overextension of his body that he often uses to express his emotions more clearly to others. Then his laugh comes out full and bright, the real one, rolling out over the water. "My dear," he says, when he's finished, "Thank you. For a moment, you’ve made an old man very happy.”
And the weight of it clearly says how much he appreciates what you’ve said. It’s not even a particularly great compliment, but you know grief well enough to know that it comes at the most random times.
"Well I promise to tell you more often then."
"Exceptional," he says, and you believe him completely.
You stay like that until Robin comes up and takes the empty chair on your other side with a book, and the three of you exist together in comfortable creative silence while the afternoon tips into evening without any of you noticing.
As the light goes amber, you turn to Brook. "Will you play at dinner tonight?"
He brightens, the delight of it moving through him entirely. "I would be honored."
"Good," you say. "I want to hear what the evening sounds like to you."
He laughs again, and Robin smiles behind her book, and the ship keeps moving, and that's all it needs to be.
‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿
Jinbe teaches you to fish, which is not something he planned.
He'd come to the stern with his line and his patience — the kind that doesn't ask anything of the world except to keep moving — and found you already there with your knees pulled up, watching the water. He sat down without comment, but you politely asked what he was doing, and one thing led to another.
You converse in the easy manner that comes with shared moments, where a quiet task strips away the need for pretense. You explore the cultural contrasts between your homelands, sharing stories of the island where you were raised; the sun-drenched shores, the warmth of your community, and how creativity was cherished as an expression of love. He listens attentively, allowing your words to fill the space without interruption.
"You miss it," he says when you finish.
"Every day." A pause. "I don't usually say that out loud."
"You don't have to perform being fine with me," he says, simply. "I won't worry about you if you're not."
You look at him. "Everyone else worries."
"They love you," he says. "That's appropriate. But I've lived long enough to know grief can't be rushed, and that sometimes the kindest thing is to sit beside someone without requiring anything of them."
Something in the words lands the way your father's used to — not performed wisdom, just truth accumulated through long living, offered plainly.
"You remind me of someone," you say quietly.
"Someone you miss?"
"In the best way."
He looks at you with the warm, understated quality he brings to everything. "I'll take that," he says.
You fish for another hour. You catch nothing. Jinbe catches two and releases both, because you are not, it turns out, fishing for dinner, you're fishing for the practice of it, which he considers equally valid.
"Same time tomorrow?" you ask.
"I'll bring tea," he says. "The fish respond better when you're warm."
You laugh. He extends a hand to help you up, solid and unhurried, and walks you back toward the ship at the pace of someone who has weathered enough sea to never feel rushed. And it feels, simply and exactly, like being looked after by someone who has been doing it long enough to know how.
‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿
The art club has three rules.
Usopp made them. He wrote them on a piece of paper and tacked it to the wall of the storage room you'd collectively claimed, and no one argued because no one wanted to be the person who argued with a handwritten sign.
Rule one: no critiquing unless asked. Rule two: no talking about whatever crisis is currently happening on deck. Rule three: Sanji is allowed in for supply runs only and must leave immediately after.
"That's discriminatory," Sanji had said, reading the sign over your shoulder on the first day.
"It's a creative space," Usopp told him, with great authority. "Your energy is too chaotic."
"My energy—"
"Snacks," you said. "Please."
He brought snacks and was promptly asked to leave after. He went with the suffering dignity of a man deeply wronged, and the door closed, and the four of you looked at each other in the warm quiet of the reclaimed storage room and someone — Franky, clearly — said SUPER under his breath, and that was that.
Franky draws mecha. Enormous, intricately paneled manga spreads that take up two pages minimum, his mechanical figures rendered with the same obsessive structural logic he brings to actual shipbuilding; every joint considered, every line of force accounted for, the action sequences are somehow both chaotic and precisely engineered. He inks with total focus, occasionally tilting a panel to check the perspective with one eye closed, occasionally making a sound of deep personal satisfaction when something clicks into place.
You've started leaving small notes in the margins of his discarded drafts. The weight feels off here, what if the stance shifted. He never mentions them. The next panel always adjusts something adjacent to what you suggested. You both pretend this isn't happening, and the arrangement works perfectly.
Nami draws landscapes, fantasy ones, pulled from whatever novel she's currently reading, rendered in the portable watercolor set she produces from somewhere that no one questions. They're extraordinary, all atmosphere and light, the geography of places that don't exist made to feel more real than maps of places that do. She sits close enough that your shoulders touch and doesn't move away, and neither do you, and at some point her free hand settles on your knee with the ease of something that has simply decided it lives there now.
You draw them, in various stages, sometimes their expressions, other times anatomy work and body proportions, sometimes drawing with them their scenes, and they want to see the way you would draw something they’re working on — a sweet gesture that left you feel welcomed by this crew.
And Usopp, well, Usopp is working on his manga.
It has pirates, a legendary treasure that the main crew is sailing toward across a grand and perilous ocean. It has a cast of characters that are in no way, absolutely not, definitely not meant to represent anyone present, despite the fact that the captain is described as having a signature item of headwear and a devil fruit ability so powerful it defies all logic and description.
Despite the fact that the navigator is a brilliant, beautiful tactician whose skills are matched only by her devastating wit, and the swordsman is — well. You've read that page twice, and you're fairly certain Usopp has written Zoro as being approximately eight feet tall, but you haven't said anything.
Today, Usopp is introducing someone new.
He's been building to it for three sessions, dropping hints: a figure glimpsed in the background of a panel, a reference in dialogue, a mysterious feminine presence noted in the narration with the weight of dramatic foreshadowing. And now, bent over his pages with his tongue between his teeth in concentration, he's drawing her properly for the first time.
You watch him work from the corner of your eye.
The new character is arriving in what appears to be a dramatic rescue scene. The crew's sharpshooter — who is, in this version, slightly taller than in life, with more defined arms and a dramatically windswept silhouette — stands at the center of the panel, having apparently single-handedly dismantled an underground criminal operation of enormous scale.
The other crew members are present in the background, supportive, appreciative, somewhat peripheral. The sharpshooter's pose is heroic, and the lighting on him is extraordinary, and he appears to be the only one who did anything of significance.
The woman he's rescuing has your face.
It's not subtle. Usopp is not, you are learning, a subtle man when he's drawing something he cares about.
"Usopp," you say.
"Mm," he says, not looking up, adding detail to the sharpshooter's heroic silhouette.
"Is that me?"
"It's a fictional character," he says immediately.
"She has my face."
"She has a face."
"Usopp."
He looks up, and the expression he's wearing is the one where he's decided to commit completely to the bit regardless of consequences. "The Merry Valor crew's newest member," he says, with dignity, "is a wholly original creation who bears no resemblance to any real person and who was rescued solely through the extraordinary efforts of the sharpshooter Usokingu, whose skill and bravery in the underground were—"
"I don’t know if that’s exactly how—," you say.
"Usokingu," he continues, louder, "whose legendary combat ability neutralized the threat before anyone else had even reached the location—"
Nami leans across you to look at the page, studying it for a moment. "You've drawn yourself saving her from something you were genuinely frightened of."
"Usokingu," Usopp says, at full volume now, "felt no fear."
Franky hasn't looked up from his mecha panel, but his shoulders are shaking.
You take the sketchbook from Usopp, ignoring his noise of protest, and look at the page properly. The woman he's drawn, the character who is definitely not you, is rendered with a care that has nothing to do with embellishment. The detail in her face. The way she's drawn looking up at the sharpshooter not with passive rescue-recipient energy but with something more specific, more considered. Like someone who sees what's in front of them and decides they like it.
You hand it back.
"She's beautiful," you say, simply.
Usopp opens his mouth, closes it, and then something in his face does what it does when you say the true thing at the right moment; briefly, genuinely undefended. "She's — yeah. She is." He looks back at the page. "Still entirely fictional, though."
"Entirely," you agree.
"Usokingu really did save her, for the record."
"Completely alone," you say.
"Heroically."
"No one else contributed. Didn’t even have a chance to, he was so quick."
"Exactly, look and eyewitness," he confirms, and you both dissolve, the laughter catching Nami too, and even Franky sets his pen down to fully commit to the moment.
At the ninety-minute mark, there's a knock. Two short, one long.
"That's him," Usopp says, without looking up, already recomposed.
"He's early," Nami says.
"He times it," you say.
You open the door. Sanji stands with a tray of drinks and something wrapped in cloth that smells extraordinary, wearing the expression of a man who has accepted his exile with great personal suffering and would like this acknowledged.
"Thank you," you say, reaching for the tray.
He pulls it back, just slightly, just enough.
"There's a toll," he says.
Behind you, a chorus of immediate and varied protest rises from the room — Usopp's oh come on, Nami's sharp exhale, Franky's low ‘seriously, man’ — which Sanji absorbs without visible remorse.
You step forward, take his face briefly in one hand, and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He goes very still in the way he does when he wasn't quite prepared for you to actually do the thing, when the expectation was negotiation, and you've bypassed it entirely.
"There," you say, taking the tray from his now-unresisting hands.
The color at the tips of his ears is remarkable.
"You're all welcome," he says, to the room, recovering his composure by approximately sixty percent.
"Goodbye, Sanji," Nami says.
The door closes. You distribute the drinks while Nami's hand returns to your knee. Usopp is already back in his pages, adding something to the sharpshooter's rescue panel that has, you notice, slightly more crew members in the background than before. Still peripheral, still secondary, but present. Franky accepts his drink without breaking his ink line, which is a skill that deserves recognition.
Outside, Sanji stands in the corridor for a moment longer than necessary, something no one mentions.
It's rule four. Usopp just hasn't written it down yet.
‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿
The afternoon unreels itself lazily. The island is warm, the water calm, and somewhere in the middle of it Usopp appears with a volleyball and an expression of someone who has been given a mission.
"Teams," he announces.
"Teams," you repeat.
"You and Chopper versus Sanji and Robin." He holds the ball out with the gravity of someone distributing weapons. "The sand down there is perfect. Sanji's already complaining about it, which means it's going to be great."
You look at Chopper, who is already vibrating with the kind of energy that suggests the competitive element of this proposal has activated something in him.
"Obviously, we're going to win," he says firmly once you’ve reached the court.
"Obviously," you agree, both sharing a smile.
Robin plays volleyball the way Robin does everything, with composure and precision and the occasional use of her devil fruit, which she maintains is incidental and which is definitely not incidental. She sends the ball back over the net in ways that should not be physically possible and watches you scramble to return it with serene, affectionate amusement.
"That's not—" you start.
"I don't know what you mean," Robin says pleasantly, from across the net.
"You grew three extra arms!"
"I grew one extra arm," she corrects. "Briefly."
You look at Chopper. Chopper looks at you. A silent agreement passes between you that you are not going to win this fairly and are therefore going to have to win it unfairly, and Chopper — who contains medical expertise, several transformations, and approximately forty pounds of competitive spirit — turns out to be an exceptional partner in this specific endeavor.
The game deteriorates cheerfully within twenty minutes. Usopp is supposed to be officiating and has instead become a commentator, narrating events with increasingly dramatic inflection while Luffy, Zoro, and Nami watch from slightly up the beach. Jinbe watches from further back with the expression of a man enjoying himself quietly. Brook has found a shady place to sit and is playing something upbeat that somehow perfectly scores the chaos.
You dive for a ball that you absolutely should not have dived for, hit the sand with a thud that knocks the breath out of you for a moment, and come up laughing — genuinely laughing, the full kind, the kind that takes over your body without asking permission. Chopper immediately checks if you're injured, but you wave him off. Sanji is already rounding the net with a look that tries to be concerned but is mostly just warm, crouching to offer his hand.
"I'm fine," you tell him.
"You're sandy," he tells you.
"I'm winning."
He pulls his head back to look at you, checking your head for injury. "You're absolutely not winning."
"The score is irrelevant," you say, taking his hand. "I'm winning spiritually. In fact, we’re beating your asses right now."
He pulls you up, and the moment of your rising brings you close enough that he doesn't immediately step back, and his hand brushes the sand from your shoulder with the proprietary ease of someone who has decided this is simply something he does now. "Spiritually," he repeats, low and amused, close to your ear.
"It's a valid metric," you tell him.
"It really isn't," Robin says, from across the net, and Sanji's laugh catches you off guard because it's directed at you both together, the warmth of it including you both in the same breath.
He goes back to his side of the net as the game continues. The sun keeps moving toward the horizon, and the light goes from gold to amber to something lower and more extraordinary, the kind of light that makes everything look slightly more itself than usual.
‿︵‿ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ‿︵‿
They stand slightly up the shore, the three of them, close enough to watch without being part of it. Nami has her arms crossed, not in irritation but in the particular way she holds herself when she's thinking. Zoro has a drink he's mostly ignoring while Luffy is eating something and watching you with the focused quality he normally reserves for opponents and the horizon.
You dive for the ball again and come up laughing again, and all three of them watch it happen.
"She's settled," Nami says. Not to either of them specifically, more so just naming what she's observing.
"Faster than I expected," Zoro says, taking a swig of his drink.
"I expected it," Luffy says.
Nami glances at him, slightly annoyed at him. "You always say that."
"I'm always right," he says, simply, still watching you, but doesn’t manage to duck from Nami’s smack on the back of his head.
Down on the sand, you've said something to Chopper that has him spinning in a circle with offense, and Sanji laughing. Robin returns a shot with an arm that blooms from the top of the net post, and Usopp's commentary hits a new register of drama. The scene has the quality of something that has always been happening, that the ship has always contained — the particular ease of a person who has found the frequency of a place and started transmitting on it.
"She figured Franky out," Nami continues, something satisfied in her voice. "I could hear them in the workshop from the corridor. Two hours."
Zoro's eye moves to her briefly, face not moving, but his voice tells enough of his surprise. "Franky doesn't do two hours with people."
"No," she agrees. "He doesn't."
A pause. Down the beach, you spike the ball over the net with more force than expected, and there's a collective reaction from the loose audience that has gathered: Jinbe's quiet approval, Brook's musical punctuation, Usopp's escalating narration.
"Brook had her on the deck for the whole afternoon," Zoro says. "Didn't see her come down until dinner prep."
"I know." Nami watches you. "And Jinbe, the fishing."
"She's good at people," Luffy says. He says it the way he says most true things, like he's just reporting what's in front of him.
"She is," Nami agrees. "Which is useful." A beat. "Which is also not why we—"
"No," Luffy says. The single word closes the sentence cleanly, without harshness. Just precision. "She’s more than a tool."
Nami exhales. "I know." She watches you receive a shot from Robin, get turned around by it, and recover. You're laughing again, always laughing, the sound carrying up the beach. "I just want to be clear with myself about it."
"You're clear," Zoro says, not unkindly, just the certainty of a man who has already been through this reckoning and come out the other side of it settled. "We all are."
The sun is lower now, the light extraordinary, and you are standing in the middle of it like you were placed there. Like the afternoon arranged itself around you, or like you arranged yourself around the afternoon, and either way the result is the same. You, lit up, sand on your knees, Chopper attached to your side, Sanji watching you from his side of the net with the expression he doesn't always know he's making.
"How many of us has she kissed?" Luffy asks, conversationally, looking around to see if there’s a lingering snack around that he could grab without having to move.
Nami makes a sound. "That's — I'm not cataloging that, Luffy."
"I'm not asking for a catalog, I'm asking how it's going."
"It's going well," Zoro says, which is the only answer that needs to be given, and he knows it. "She's not pulling back from anyone. She initiates." He watches you ruffle Chopper's hat with the easy affection of someone who has stopped calculating these gestures and started simply making them. "That matters."
"She made the first move on Robin," Nami says, and there's something that might be pride in it, the specific pride of a woman who understands what that costs. "Robin told me."
They watch you in silence for a moment. The game has devolved further; Chopper has transformed into heavypoint form that has Sanji loudly revising his position on the rules. You're laughing so hard you've bent forward. The sound of it reaches all three of them clearly on the salt-warm air.
"She's ours," Luffy says. The words are quiet, not asking, not announcing to anyone else. Just said in the way Luffy states things that are true, as simple facts, placed in the air to be acknowledged.
Nami doesn't argue with it. “Yes," she says.
"She doesn't fully know it yet," Zoro says.
"She's starting to," Luffy says. Something in his voice is warm, and patient, and completely certain, the way he sounds when he has already seen how something ends and is content to let the middle unfold at its own pace. "She'll get there."
"And when she does?" Nami asks. Not because she doesn't know the answer. Because she wants to hear him say it.
Luffy looks at you, and his expression does the thing it does sometimes. Where the grin is gone, what's underneath it has no name but is more serious and more certain than anything the grin covers.
"Then she stays," he says. "And she's ours, and we're hers, and that's just what's true." He takes a bite of whatever he's eating. "Simple."
Zoro exhales slowly. "Simple," he agrees, which from Zoro means: settled. Done. No further discussion needed.
Nami watches you for another moment, the smile at the corner of her mouth the private one, the one she saves. "We should get changed for dinner," she says.
"Yeah," Luffy says, still watching you.
None of them moves immediately.
Sanji has been cooking since dawn. You only understand the full scope of it when the tables arrive on the beach — actual tables, hauled down by Franky and Zoro with what you would describe as minimal cooperation and maximum profanity — and the dishes begin coming out one by one, covered and then uncovered, held back and then released, each one appearing as the sky does what it only does in the last twenty minutes before full dark.
Someone has strung lanterns above the table. You have a theory about the chain of responsibility; Nami conceived it, Usopp built it, Franky made it structurally sound — but whoever is responsible, the result is warm amber light over a long table on the sand, the ocean close enough to hear, the Sunny at your back, the island's last color dissolving into the water ahead of you.
You stand at the edge of it and try to take it in.
"You're doing the breathing thing," Franky says, from beside you.
"I'm not—" you start, and then remember he told you about this, and stop. "Fine," you say. "Maybe I am."
He looks satisfied. "Good."
The crew settles around the table in the informal, comfortable way they always settle; not assigned, but patterned, everyone finding the configuration that works without needing to discuss it. You end up in the middle of it, which you realize, looking around, is probably not an accident. Chopper is immediately to your left, and Sanji is finding the seat to your right with the ease of a man arriving somewhere he already knew he was going. Robin is across from you, and Luffy is at the head. Always at the head, it's just where he is, where the table orients itself, watching everything with the satisfied expression of a captain at his table.
Brook has his violin tonight, not the harmonica. When the food is served, and the first plates go around, he starts playing, soft and warm, the kind of music that fits itself to a conversation rather than demanding to be above it.
You eat and talk. The food is obscene; Sanji has outdone himself in the specific way of someone cooking for a purpose beyond nutrition, every dish considered, every flavor a decision. You tell him this, quietly, leaning close enough that it's just for him, and watch what happens to his face when he believes you mean it.
He does believe it, he always believes you, you're realizing. Which is a gift in someone whose default is to deflect compliments with performance.
"You made this for tonight specifically," you say. Not a question.
"Everything I make is for specifically," he says. "Tonight's specifically is you."
You look at him, but he’s already turning back to the table, refilling someone's glass, moving through the dinner with the focused pleasure of a person in their element — but you saw it. The thing underneath the words, the quiet enormity of them, said plainly and then moved past without fanfare.
Tonight's specifically is you.
The conversation around the table flows like a well-tuned melody, winding, overlapping, and authentic. At some point, the evening blurs into a seamless tapestry of laughter and stories, and Luffy rises, drink in hand. It’s an unplanned movement, yet the table hushes as he stands, not out of demand but because Luffy has a knack for commanding attention effortlessly.o.
"We should do a toast," he says. "Because it's been a good stretch of days and we're leaving tomorrow, and also because—" he looks at you, directly, simply, "—we have a new crewmate."
The table turns to you.
You become aware of all of them, the full weight and warmth of them, all at once. Chopper's enormous eyes, Usopp's genuine smile, Franky's raised glass and broad grin, Brook's graceful bow from his seat, Jinbe's contained and solid approval.
Robin's warm gaze, contrasting Zoro's steady, almost steely gaze, Nami's particular smile, Sanji beside you with his expression doing something complicated and sincere, and Luffy at the head of it all, looking at you like you're something the world has been saving up to give him.
"To the artist," Luffy says, "who walked into trouble for strangers and then let us drag her onto a ship and across the ocean." He pauses, and the pause has something in it — a weight, a current beneath the lightness, something that doesn't match the casual delivery. "You're ours now."
Two words, simple and said with a smile, in the voice of a toast, at a dinner table with lanterns and the ocean and good food and people who are laughing.
You're ours now.
The crew cheers; genuinely, glasses raised, Chopper nearly spilling his while Brook moved to play a cheerful flourish.
And you smile, and lift your glass, and drink, and tell yourself the slight catch in your breath is just the emotion of the moment. The genuine, uncomplicated emotion of being welcomed, of being celebrated, of sitting at a table full of people who chose you and are glad they did.
That's all it is.
And it is, mostly. That's mostly what it is.
But underneath the warmth of it, underneath the lantern light and the ocean sound and the beautiful food and the people who have become, astonishingly quickly, very important to you — underneath all of it, two words sit, warm and certain and not quite letting go.
Theirs now.
Not a question.
Just a fact, spoken plainly, by a man who says things that are true.
You look at Luffy across the table. He's already sitting back down and already reaching for food. Already Luffy again, bright and uncomplicated with his grin restored, asking Sanji if there's more of the thing with the sauce.
He doesn't look at you like he said something significant.
He looks like a captain at his table, with his crew, at the end of a good day.
You pick up your fork and take a bite, the conversation comes back up around you like a tide, warm and inevitable, and you let it take you.
Sanji's hand finds yours under the table, just a touch, the pressure of his fingers, and then gone. Robin says something that makes you laugh while Chopper steals something from your plate and pretends he didn't.
The island sits warm behind you, and ahead, somewhere past the dark water and the waiting horizon, the next one is already there. Already real and holding whatever comes next.
a/n: struggled with this at first cause they felt very disconnected and i just dind't know how i wanted to string them together, so i said fuck it and we'll do a compilation instead to round out the honeymoon arc!
thank you all for your patience and for your love and support! we are now moving onto the next longer arc: looking glass arc
things have been great with the straw hat pirates. but the deeper your romantic connections get, relationships get with tense and fractures start showing
as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! i love you very much, here’s a kiss from me to you 😘
Summary: How do One piece men act before they realise they like you - and when they do ෆ˚
(Disclaimer! I DO NOT own any of the pictures above, or in this fic. Credits to the rightful owner)
Pairings: Portgas D. Ace x reader, Monkey D. Luffy x reader, Trafalgar D. Law x reader, Roronoa Zoro x reader, Shanks x reader (seperate & not in order)
ᰔᩚ
Luffy:
It's no secret that your captain has a little crush on you.
Well, everyone thinks so at least
You're not really sure because it's Luffy, he's always affectionate and an absolute sweetheart to the people close to him. So maybe everyone is just overthinking things.
But sometimes, there were moments that made you think twice.
Like how every time you guys find an island to explore, Luffy always drags you with him.
How he always ends up sitting beside you every time. Or when he would barge into you, Nami, and Robin's room because he was bored.
The crew noticed it way before you did.
At first they weren't sure if they were assuming things
Every time there's errands to do, Luffy always has to be with you. And if he isn't, he immediately start arguing with everyone and use his title as the captain until he got his way.
How every time Ussop invites him to go fishing, Luffy always asks if you can join. How whenever he catched a big fish, he'd run off to you and start showing off.
Chopper noticed how every time you were sick, luffy would always bring you 'cool things' he found on an island he explored so "you wouldn't miss out"
How luffy always runs off to you every time something cool happens with the biggest grin in his face.
"LOOK! LOOK AT THIS WEIRD BUG I FOUND"
"LOOK AT THIS BIG FISH I CAUGHT"
"LOOK AT THIS NEW TRICK USSOP TAUGHT ME"
Always yelling out to you everytime something happens.
Robin, Nami, Ussop, and Chopper noticed immediately
Sanji, Franky, and Brook noticed shortly after
Zoro also noticed, but didn't care much about it.
But everyone's suspicions were confirmed when luffy did something no one ever thought would happen.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
Everyone was in the dining room, all laughing and enjoying your food. Of course, right next to luffy.
Luffy was busy eating his food, then suddenly, he put his food in your plate.
Everyone went silent, they couldn't believe what they just saw.
Luffy. Sharing. Food?!
"Huh?!" you turned to look at him.
He grinned "Try it, it's really good"
Luffy noticed how quiet it became, he looked over at everyone, confused why everyone looked shocked.
Nami blinked.
Usopp blinked.
Sanji's cigarette fell out of his mouth.
Robin smiled.
"DID YOU JUST SHARE YOUR FOOD?" everyone screamed.
"Yea, so?" Luffy said bluntly, like it was a normal thing for him.
Zoro choked on his sake.
Sanji fainted
"Yo ho ho, oh young lovee" Brook said
Chopper rushed over to luffy "Luffy! Are you sick? This isn't like you to share!"
Luffy took a bite of his food "I wanted y/n to try it!" He paused and turned to face you. "It's good right?" He smiled
Your heart skipped a beat
'What is going on?!' you thought to yourself.
You composed yourself and grabbed a bite "It's really good luf" you smiled
His smile widened and he started grabbing more food for you.
"Here try this!"
"Try this one too!"
Everyone just stared at you two, too shocked to say something.
"Oh dear" Robin chuckled "It seems our captain has fallen in love"
You choked on your food and Luffy turned to Robin looking confused.
"Huh? What does that mean?" he asked
Robin smiled "It's when you always want to be near a certain person and feel weird around them. You always want to spend time with them and be on their side forever"
Nami sighs "You sure that's not too hard to understand? It's Luffy were talking about"
Luffy grumbles "That's it?"
Everyone nods
Luffy blinked
Looked at you and grinned
"Then I think love y/n a lot!" He exclaimed before he went back to eating
...
...
...
And once again, the room went silent.
You could feel your face on fire and everyone's eyes on you two.
What the fuck just happened?!
"What?! You can't just say that so bluntly!" you scold him, but luffy just laughed.
"Why not?" He pouts "That's what I feel about you but I just never knew what it was"
At this point, your brain couldn't process all this information at once. You open your mouth to say something, but no words came out.
"I-uh" you stutter. Too nervous to say the words about to come out of your mouth.
"Hmm?" He responded
You took a deep breath and said "I love you too then" you smiled.
Everyone's eyes popped out of their head
"WHAT" They all screamed.
Let's just say, nobody expected dinner to turn out like this.
Zoro:
Zoro is slightly obvious about it, but just doesn't realise it.
Because for some reason, he happens to be there wherever you are. If your reading a book while sunbathing? He'll come by after a few minutes to take a nap because 'the sun is nice'
Your passing by while he's training? His eyes follow your figure immediately and never take it off you, easily getting distracted which makes him forget how much reps he's done.
You leave the room? He notices way before anybody does even though he was supposed to be asleep already.
His face turns red everytime you smile at him or tease him. Just do anything as simple as breathing and this guy would be blushing like crazy, because he finds it 'cute'
And when anyone points it out, he says the same exact thing.
"Tch, shut up"
Because Zoro still thinks that he's acting normal. Which he isn't, but he's just simply too stubborn to admit it.
Too stubborn to admit that the way his heart races when he's around you isn't normal.
Too stubborn to admit that the way he always ends up wanting to be around you isn't normal.
Too stubborn to admit that how he feels and how he acts around you isn't normal.
But how can he admit to something he doesn't understand?
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
You guys stopped over at an island to gather some supplies and decided to split up to make the job easier.
And you ended up going shopping with Zoro. Nobody honestly wanted to go with him because of his ability to always some how get lost and it takes too much time to look for him.
Not that either of you were against the idea.
Matter of fact, Zoro would much rather be with you than anyone else.
But of course, he had to get lost and now your stuck walking around looking for him. You took your eyes off him for 30 seconds and he was nowhere to be found.
As your walking around, you see a guy walking towards you. Then, he spoke.
"Hey, your not from around here right?" He stopped in front of you, hands behind his head.
"No, just visiting" you paused "Have you seen a green haired guy with swords on his torso?"
He raised his eyebrow, looking interested "Green hair? Haven't seen him around. A friend of yours? Or something more?"
'Or something more?'
Oh how you wish that was the case
"A friend" you said quickly, feeling a dust of pink creeping up to your face and your heart beating faster than usual.
"Then how about I help you look for him?" He winked "We can get to know each other in the process"
You paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. I mean, this would make the hunt for a certain moss head easier right?
"Ye-" but before you could even accept his offer, you felt a large rough hand on your shoulder.
"She won't be needing any help" a deep gruff familiar voice grumbled near your ear. You could feel his breath against your ear, which caused your whole face and ears to turn red.
Behind you was none other than Roronoa Zoro. His gaze narrowed down on the guy in front of you. He looked at him so intense, it won't be a surprise if he burned a hole through him.
The poor guy slightly trembled, taking tiny steps back. "Hey hey, I was just tryna help this beauty over here"
Zoro's eyes twitched, you could feel his grip on you slightly tightening. Veins showing on his forehead, obviously agitated at a certain person.
"She clearly doesn't need your help anymore"
"Well can't blame a guy for trying" he sighed. "She said your not her boyfriend so why do you care so much?"
That question made Zoro pause. His jaw tightened and his throat felt dry.
As annoying as he is, he has a point.
'Why does he care so much?'
For a moment, no one spoke. The only noises you could hear were vendors promoting their shop, kids running around, people chattering.
Both men just simply stared at each other, not saying anything. Zoro was the first to break the silence, "It's none of your business"
The man stared at Zoro for a moment before letting out a whistle.
"Y'know, I think someone's inlove"
You felt Zoro stiffen beside you.
"What did you just say?"
The guy laughed nervously "I'm just saying, I went and talked to her then you showed up and been glaring at me the whole time. Then you come over here acting like her personal guard dog"
A vein appeared on Zoro's forehead "Watch your mouth"
"You can't tell me you don't like her"
"I don't"
"You do"
"I don't"
"It's obvious"
'Does this guy have a death wish or what???'
You could feel Zoro's patience disappearing. So before things could get any worse, you quickly stepped between them.
"Okay, that's enough from both of you"
The guy immediately took a step backProbably because he realised he might lose his head.
"Alright, alright. I'm leaving" He turned around and winked at you "See you around then beautiful" he said before walking away.
As he walked away, he looked at Zoro one last time.
"Trust me, man. You've got it bad" Then he disappered into the crowd
For a moment, neither you or Zoro said anything.The busy marketplace carried on around you as if nothing happened.
You cleared your throat.
"So..."
Zoro immediately started walking.
"Tch. We still have supplies to get"
You blinked before hurrying after him.
"Heyy, wait up!"
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
After that whole commotion earlier, you and Zoro went back to gathering supplies. But this time, it was unusually quiet.
Normally, you wouldn't think much of it. He wasn't really the talkative type, but today he was quieter than usual.
Usually, you would talk and he would respond properly and listen to you ramble about anything. But today was different. Every time you talk, he'd only answer with a grunt, or a short response before it becomes silent again.
Meanwhile, what the guy said to him kept replaying in his head.
"I think someone's in love"
That's probably the most stupidest thing anyone has ever said to him.
But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Could it be why he always end up near you?
Why he get this weird feeling around you?
Why he get mad when another man tried to get too close to you?
Suddenly, you stop at a stall and picked up something. In your hand was a small cat trinket, a smile spread across your face as you excitedly showed it to Zoro.
"Aw look, it's a cat" you look up to him and smiled brighter than before.
Zoro's breath hitched, and for a moment he just stared at you.
'Why did he get even more nervous when he saw your smile?'
His eyes widened, it all made sense now. The way he would always end up wanting to be near you. The way his heart beats when you smile at him.The way he always notices you without even trying.
And suddenly, maybe the annoying guy from earlier was right.
Tch, you've gotta be kidding me'
You place the trinket down, and notice him just staring at you. His eyes wide open, his breathing uneven, his face all red and flustered.
"... Why are you looking at me like that?"
Your voice snapped him out of it. He looked away fast, while covering his face with one of his hands.
Zoro coughs "I'm not"
"You are"
"I'm not"
A grin slowly spreads across your face.
"Why is your face so red? You look a little flustered"
"It isn't"
"It is"
You stared at him for a little bit before laughing.
"That's cute"
Zoro's head immediately snapped to look at you. His face was redder than it was before
"Eh?!" You laughed even more and kept on walking, completely unaware of the overwhelming situation you put Zoro into.
"Tch, woman wait up!" He snapped back into reality and immediately chased after you.
Ace:
Ace is painfully obvious about it, just not to himself.
Because apparently to his logic, it's normal to spend almost every minute with you. At least his logic says so.
If your sitting alone in the deck, Ace somehow always ends up sitting beside you.
If your helping around in the ship, Ace always finds a reason to help out to.
If your somewhere alone together, he'll stay far longer than he planned.
And when anyone pointed it out
"It's not a big deal"
Because he believes it isn't that big of a deal. So what if he always spends him time around you? You both live in the same ship, so isn't it normal to be around each other often?
But he doesn't realise how he laughs harder than usual when your around.
He doesn't realise that when anything exciting happens, your the first person he wants to tell about it.
And he definitely doesn't realise that he spends more time looking at you than anything else.
But how is he supposed to realise that this feeling is he feels is something else when he's never experienced anything like it before.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
Everyone in the ship noticed it for a long time, except you or Ace.
Because even with everyone's little comments, you genuinely believe that's just the way he is. Always playful. Always flirty. And really clingy.
'That's just the way he is, right?'
At first, the crew thought they were imagining things. Then they started paying attention.
Marco notices how Ace always sat beside you during his meals. Giving you bits of his food to try because he thought it tastes really good.
Izo noticed how if you both were missing, it's always most likely you both are alone together somewhere.
Thatch noticed how he would get all flustered when you smile, or make physical contact with him.
And Whitebeard noticed everything.
Every time Pops asked about it, Ace always had an excuse.
"She's funny"
"I like talking to her"
"Whats the big deal?"
Eventually, everyone just started making bets on how long it will take until Ace realises his feelings for you is 'more than friends'
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
Everyone's gathered around one of the tables, eating and talking after a long day. And among those people was Ace telling a story, about you.
Again.
"...And then she tripped over a bucket and somehow blamed me for it"
Everyone laughed, including Ace as he takes another bite of his food.
Then Marco spoke, "You know... You talk about her a lot"
Ace shrugged
"So?..."
Thatch repeated "So?"
"So?" Ace said again
Everyone exchanged looks, then Marco sighed.
"Ace"
"What?"
"Your in love with her"
Ace laughed
"What? Me?" He snickered. Then he looked around and saw that nobody was laughing.
Marco looked completely serious
Thatch looked completely serious
Izo looked completely serious
Pops is just silently grinning
Ace slowly stopped laughing,"... Wait" he paused "You guys are serious?"
Marco nodded, "Very"
Ace immediately shook his head, "No way, seriously?"
Thatch leaned forward. "Seriously"
Everyone shared another look, before they started interrogating him.
"You always sit next to her every meal"
"So?"
"You share food with her"
"And?"
"You spend all day with her"
"We live in the same ship?"
"You started blushing like crazy when he pulled you in a side hug"
A slight tint of pink spreads across his face.
"I did not"
"You did"
"That doesn't prove anything"
Everyone sighed
"Fine" Marco replied. "Where is she right now?"
Without thinking, his eyes dart across the room trying to look for you. He looked at every corner, the door, the stairs, the deck. He looked everywhere but you were no where to be seen.
"She's taking forever, I'll look for her" But before he could stand up, a hand grabs his wrists and stops him.
"See? You didn't even think about it" Marco smirked
"Huh?"
"See? You always do that. The second she's not around, you start looking for her. You always find some excuse to be near her."
The room went completely silent. Ace froze as his eyes slowly widen when the realisation hits him.
Everyone immediately started laughing, exchanging money.
"Pay up"
"I told you it would happen by the end of this month"
"I said before the next island"
All this commotion going on, and Ace was just silent. Because for the first time, he's finally realising that maybe there's more to it. More to the feelings he gets around you.
The way he always wants to talk to you.
The way he always wants to be around you.
The way being around you just felt right.
And suddenly, maybe they weren't wrong. Maybe he is in love
Ace slowly dragged a hand down his face.
"Your joking right?"
And that made the laugher somehow louder than it already was before.
"Nope" Thatch replied.
Pops let out a laugh, "Took you long enough
Shanks:
Nobody really noticed when it started. Not because Shanks was trying to hide it, but he just simply didn't realise what he was doing.
Somehow he would always end up wherever you are every time. You two would just always end up... alone together.
Like how he was only supposed to tell you something little for five minutes turning into thirty minutes.
How every time he makes you laugh with his corny jokes he suddenly gets this weird feeling.
Times like that just ended up getting longer and longer just because neither of you want to stop the conversation.
Shanks never thought much about it. It was simple really. He just found it easy and comfortable to talk to you.
It just slipped its way into his routine without him realising.
And when one of the crew points it out he'd just laugh it off.
Because in his mind, he didn't think anything was going on.
You were just you, fun to talk to that's why he keeps going to you.
At least that's what he told himself.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
The realisation happened in the most random way possible.
The crew stopped by an island to get some supplies, and of course you eneded up spending the whole day with your captain.
Not that you both planned it, it just naturally happened like always.
You both walked around the market, stopping by random stalls and talking about anything.
As you both were walking around, you spotted a stall filled with fruits.
"Shanks look" you tugged on his shirt and pointed at the stall "Those apples look juicy, can we check it out?"
He looked over and chuckled, "Of course.. anything for you"
You roll your eyes at his usual playfulness before walking over to the stall.
An elderly woman running the stall smiles at you two. "Hello, would you like to buy some apples?"
You smile back at her, "Yes please, can we get a kilo of apples?"
Shanks grabbed some money from his pocket before handing it to her.
"Thank you young man, just pick one of those bags"
You look around the table of bagged apples, looking for the best looking ones. Then, you spotted one in the middle of the bunch. But before you could get them, a hand grabs them before you can.
"They're heavy, I'll carry them for you"
Shanks grabs the bag and smiles at you. "It's one kilo, it's not that heavy. You're already holding something, and you've only got one arm. Let me do it" you argue.
He sticks his tongue out "No, let me carry it"
You open your mouth to argue with him some more before you heard the elderly woman giggle a bit.
"Oh what a lovely couple"
You both immediately froze.
"Oh no we're not together"
Beside you, Shanks laughed.
"Not even close"
The woman chuckled before returning to packaging the apples.
Neither of you thought much of it before continuing shopping.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
The day went on like usual, you both walked around did your thing and talked. You pointed out things you like or need for the ship, and he ends up carrying most of them even with how much you argue.
Nothing unusual
Nothing different
But still, his mind went back to what that old lady said.
'Oh what a lovely couple'
Thats stupid, you were just friends
Really good friends. That was all to it
So why is he still bothered about it?
Why can't he stop thinking about it?
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
By the time the sun set, you both were back at the ship. Everyone was scattered around the ship's deck, conversations overlapping, crates being moved, people laughing and chatting.
You went and immediately started getting pulled into conversations. Laughing and helping around the ship.
Shanks was leaning on a railing near you, just watching for a moment.
Just... thinking
And in that moment, he noticed something he didn't think much of before.
How his attention always softened and drifted back to you. How he always changes his schedules around just to be with you.
How it felt natural and comfortable around you. And that comment the woman made slowly started to make sense now.
Why people always assume something going on between you two just simply because he acts like it.
Because there is something going on
Well for him at least...
Shanks exhaled through his nose, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as a slow smile formed on his face.
"... That's a problem" he muttered a little softly.
Across the deck, Benn glanced over to him. "Your doing it again"
Shanks continued to look at you.
"What am I doing?"
"The staring"
That earned a quiet laugh from him, low and brief, like he already knew the answer.
He didn’t deny it.
Didn’t ignore it either.
Just let it sit there
"…Yeah" Shanks admitted under his breath.
Then, almost like it caught him off guard even as he said it
He gave a small sigh.
"Damn… I think I’m in love with her."
Law:
Law isn't that obvious about it.
Not because he's good at hiding it, but it's just because nobody thought their captain was capable of falling in love.
It's just simply because he's naturally quiet, distant and cold. The type of person who would rather lock himself up in his room than spend and get to know people.
So even when someone had a slight suspicion, they would usually brush it off.
Because isn't it normal for the captain to remember every little thing about a certain crewmate more than others?
Or why he always know or want to know where you are.
Or how he notices you more than anyone else.
Or how he would always stay by your side and barely leave unless important when your sick?
It's because he's the captain and the doctor, paying close attention to his crew is simply his job.
That's what he thinks at least.
Just a responsibility
Just you.
But Law can't stop wondering why he pays more attention to you more than the others.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
You went out for a quick trip in town to get some supplies you forgot to buy. It was just supposed to be quick and simple, but of course luck was just simply not on your side today.
Because somehow, this island had to be under watch by an vice admiral without you or the crew knowing.
Vice admiral Gou is a new marine officer known for being ruthless and merciless. Gou wasn't really famous like the other admirals, but he still earned a reputation for not letting his targets escape.
And of course, you just had to cross paths with him.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
Back on the submarine, Law was busy as usual in his office.
You were supposed to only be gone for a little while. But that little while turned into an hour, then two.
He let out a long exhausted sigh, you should have been back by now.
Maybe you got distracted
Maybe you got lost
Maybe-
But before he could think of the worst, someone knocked on the door.
"Captain" Bepo said before opening the door. "I'm worried, it's been a while and she still hasn't come back"
Law stood up and grabbed his sword next to him. "I'm going out, watch the ship for me" he said before walking towards the door.
Bepo stepped aside, making a way out for his captain.
"I hope she's okay..."
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
The moment he reached town, he could clearly tell something was wrong.
People were running around the streets screaming, a few buildings damaged and the ground was cracked in multiple places.
His heart sank as he immediately thought of you.
Then, he overheard people talking
"A pirate fought that new vice admiral Gou"
"She never stood a chance against him"
He froze, trying to process what he just heard
Then he ran, as quickly as he can.
"Damn it, what did you get yourself into" he cursed to himself.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
After running around the streets, he was starting to lose hope on finding you.
But then there you were, soaked in blood.
You were sitting against a broken wall with chunks of rubble around you. Your clothes were torn, blood staining almost you whole body and the ground under you.
For one second, Law's heart stopped. His mind jumping to the worst possible things.
You weren't moving, you were too still. His chest tightened so bad it hurt.
'What the hell happened here?!'
He immediately ran towards you, heart beating faster than ever. His hands shakly grabbed both your shoulders. The sight of you like this made his heart clench, he couldn't simply stop the tears threatening to come out of his eyes.
He was scared, a feeling he hasn't felt this intense in years.
You felt something wet drop on your face. You struggled to keep your eyes open, only managing to open them barely.
"... Captain?..."
It was a surprise you managed to find the strength to say that. It was a relief that you were still conscious.
"What were you thinking?!" his voice came out harsher than expected. But even while he's scolding you, he's checking your injuries.
Already trying to stop the bleeding
Already making sure your pulse is still there.
Because no matter how angry he was at your stupidity, he was still worried sick about you.
He carefully lifted you into his arms, making sure not to make sudden movements.
Please
Just stay alive
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
Back at the submarine, he immediately took care of you and did everything he can to make sure you'll be okay.
He spent long hours, trying to patch you up while the crew waited outside the room. They've never seen Law like this before.
Usually he was calm and collected, but right now he seemed scared and panicked.
And finally after a long time, he finished treating you.
But even though you survived, you still weren't awake.
A day passed, then another
During that time you were in a coma, Law spent all his time in your room.
Sometimes he'll sit beside your bed while reading one of his medical books.
Sometimes he'll try to work, but most of the time he'd just simply watch the steady rise and fall of your chest. Waiting for you to wake up
Making sure you were still breathing. The crew immediately noticed Law would never leave your room.
Because every time they came to visit you, Law was there.
Like he's afraid that if he left, something would happen to you.
◠◡◠◡◠◡◠
A few days later when your eyes finally opened, Law was right there sitting next to your bed. Like he always had for the past week waiting for you to wake up.
For a moment neither of you spoke, just savouring each other's company.
Then he let out a breath that sounded almost shaky.
"Your an idiot"
Your throat felt dry as you try to form words in your mouth.
"Nice to see you too" you tried to smile, but you felt too weak to do so.
"You nearly died"
The words came out sharper than he thought.
You notice the dark circles under his eyes, how his shoulders slowly start to loosen up. He looked exhausted, like he hasn't slept properly in a while.
Seeing you finally awake made him feel a sense of relief. He didn't have time worry about something happening to you during your slumber.
You stare at him for a moment.
"Have you slept? You looked exhausted"
Law looked away "That's not important"
But it was, because it got him thinking why was he acting like this all of the sudden?
He never acted this panicked when one of the crew almost died once.
But with you it was different. How many hours he spent locked in your room the whole time you were in a coma.
The constant need to check on you, to make sure you were still breathing.
The fear he felt when he thought about losing you.
And that's when the gears in his head fit into place.
The reason why seeing you covered in blood made his heart drop.
The reason why the thought of losing you scared him more than anything else.
The reason why he couldn't leave your side no matter how many times he told himself to get some rest.
Law lowered his gaze, his shoulder resting against the arm rest of his chair.
"...Seriously?"
The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Because after everything, it all finally made sense to him.
It wasn't just because he was scared of losing a crew member.
He didn't just notice you more because you were a crewmate
There are four rules that come with falling for your best friend’s sister, on the contrary here’s four ways you can easily fail them.
𝓬haracters: Sanji, Koby, Law, Sabo.
༯ 2k+ wc each / bit suggestive / fem reader / confessions / first kiss / one shots.
AN: sanji isn’t rlly Zoro’s bsf but lie with me, thank you…!! Took me so long to finish this because all of my finals were this week, but it was nice to take my time with it.
rule number ONE, you can’t fall in love back. ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
“Who the hell is Mosshead even supposed to talk to?” Sanji muttered, balancing a tray of food in one hand as he wandered through the crowded streets of the island. Honestly, he was more concerned about whether the swordsman could find his way back to the ship than hold a conversation with anyone.
Luffy perked up from where he was sitting, legs dangling as he happily chewed on meat. “Probably his sister.”
Sanji nearly stumbled over his own shoe. His head snapped toward the captain so fast his neck hurt. “His what?”
“His sister,” Luffy repeated around another bite.
He was still grinning happily until a shadow fell over him. Nami scolded him as she grabbed dragged Luffy by the sleeve toward a nearby row of shops.
The two disappeared into the crowd before Sanji could ask another question. He stood there for a moment, blinking as he set down the plate of food.
Zoro had a sister? How in the hell had nobody mentioned that before?
Not that Sanji could complain too much. Everyone on the crew had things they kept to themselves. Still, that felt like very important information.
The thought lingered in the back of his mind as he and Chopper spent the next few hours gathering supplies. The reindeer focused on medical necessities while Sanji hunted down ingredients for the kitchen.
Everything was casual until he passed a sword shop. The rhythmic sound of steel being sharpened echoed through the open doorway. Sanji would’ve ignored it entirely if a flash of movement inside hadn’t caught his attention.
Then he saw you, a pretty woman behind the counter. There was no way he could ignore it despite Chopper’s protest.
His posture immediately straightened once he stepped in. A practiced smile slipped onto his face as naturally as breathing, one hand finding its way into his pocket. “Looks like this island’s got something worth admiring after all, hello beautiful—”
The line died halfway through. Not because you interrupted him, intentionally at least, all you did was laugh after all. But it was his heart that automatically began to ache in a way it hasn’t before when he listened.
It was a genuine one, directed at an older customer before you turned your attention toward him. The smile lingered on your face as you walked over.
For a second, Sanji completely forgot what he’d been saying.
“Welcome to the shop,” you said with a grin, head tilting slightly. “Looking for anything in particular?”
Before he could answer, you’d already grabbed a blade from the display rack and offered it to him. Sanji blinked when it was in his hand.
“Oh.. Uh.” His eyes drifted to your face again, a heat raising to his face. There was something familiar about you, uncomfortably familiar. He tried not to think about it.
“You okay?” you asked.
“I.. yes. Perfectly okay.” He nodded pathetically, trying to seem genuinely interested in the sharpness of the blade. “Your hands are talented, expected from a beautiful lady.”
You raised an eyebrow, it was obvious you didn’t believe him. “Right.” You murmured, the smile tugging at your lips made his chest do something deeply inconvenient. “But, thank you.”
For once, he wasn’t trying to think of another compliment. He was trying to think of literally anything to say at all.
“There you are!”
Sanji swears he let out an agonizing groan. The familiar shout nearly made him jump out of his skin. Zoro was marching down the street, waving an arm overhead despite being impossible to miss in the first place.
Your entire expression brightened, while his frowned sharply.
“Zoro!?”
“Stupid Marimo.”
You turned to face Sanji, he looked at you with an equal amount of shock. You managed to speak first, “You know my brother?”
Sanji didn’t have time to respond, but it didn’t take long to realize he did the second Zoro caught up, a mixture of friendly familiarity and also hatred. But the attention slowly went back to the new found sibling.
He watched the exchange you guys had in stunned silence. This wasn’t just some beautiful stranger he was genuinely drawn to, it was Zoro’s sister. And he didn’t feel as bad he should’ve about it.
The rest of the conversation became a blur. Sanji couldn’t focus on a single thing being said whenever you spoke. The only sentence that actually registered was the one that mattered. You were coming with them to Water 7.
And judging by the stupid grin he couldn’t get off his face, Sanji knew that was about to become the best voyage of his life.
—
The trip to Water 7 taught you a few things, one of them was that Sanji was confusing.
Zoro already sent you many warnings the second you came on board, a lot of it coming from spite. And like your brother, you began sharing a similar dislike for Sanji.
At first, you assumed he treated you the same way he treated every woman. You’d seen him around Nami and Robin often enough. The occasional collapse onto the deck whenever either woman acknowledged his existence.
It was ridiculous.. a little entertaining, but ridiculous.
So when he immediately volunteered to carry your bags, pulled out your chair at meals, and somehow appeared whenever you needed help with something, you brushed it off as part of the package.
That was just Sanji, it was annoyingly sweet.
You didn’t notice how he treated you differently, how he stayed longer because he wanted to listen, the gestures that weren’t coming from chivalry, but rather his need to be near you. He never made a big deal out of it either.
But it made you want to avoid him, desperately even. Sanji did not particularly care about your brother’s opinion, but you certainly did. And even a small part of you knew the cook could tell your actions were close to disdain.
Either he didn’t care about the fact you didn’t like him, or he couldn’t let you go.
The first time you noticed something was different happened entirely by accident. You’d wandered into the kitchen looking for a snack, Sanji was preparing lunch, sleeves rolled up and cigarette balanced between his lips.
For a moment, you almost considered walking out. It’s not like you assumed he wouldn’t be here, but you didn’t want to too cordial before you left. It would be hard leaving after making an attachment.
And maybe it was also because it was him.
“Need something?” he asked, glancing over with a soft smile.
You leaned against the doorway before deciding to just fully stepping inside. “Looking around.”
“Just be careful.” His hand immediately reached toward a shelf. “Wouldn’t want a lovely lady getting injured.”
You blinked, slowly letting out a humorless laugh. “Of what?”
“The knife rack.” He hummed, a little bit more silent than usual.
You followed his gaze, noticing the blade you’d given him at the shop rested neatly above his workstation. It was displayed within arm’s reach, the metal practically gleamed. It was your work in his kitchen.
Your stomach did a strange little flip, slowly walking closer with a hand on the edge of the counter. This was the longest you’ve been willingly near him already.
“You kept it.” You stated, you hoped you looked as calm as you imaged yourself to be right now.
Sanji looked confused at first, a bit baffled before breaking out into quiet laughter. “Of course I kept it.”
“As decoration?” You murmured, eyes narrowing.
“Absolutely not.” He sounded genuinely offended, sticking the cigarette onto a tray. Crossing the kitchen, he lifted the blade from its place. He was close to you, a finger almost touching yours. “It’s made by you.”
The knife spun effortlessly between his fingers before settling back into his palm. “And it’s reliable. I can’t possibly have something you’ve put hard work into as just a display.”
For a second, you couldn’t speak. Eyes flickering from his fingers to his face, almost reaching out before a noise outside brought you back.
“I’m glad you’re using it.” You said silently, a bit flustered from the declaration. “As well as taking care of it.”
Sanji glanced down at the blade before looking back at you. “You gave it to me.” He murmured, sharing a smile of warmth. “It deserves the same amount of love I have for you.”
The answer came so naturally that neither of you seemed prepared for it. Of course he’s said things similar, but this felt different. So different. For a moment the kitchen felt strangely quiet. Then Sanji cleared his throat and turned back toward the stove, offering to make you something.
For the first time, you accepted the offer.
You spent the rest of the day thinking about it, or rather him. You never expected to start growing a fondness for the cook.. which was an understatement with how much you’ve been staring at his hands.
He treasured a knife you’d handed him after knowing you for less than ten minutes, and it made you a sucker. It wasn’t a fast change, but definitely one that made him oddly breathtaking.
The look on his face whenever you smiled suggested he might’ve fallen first, and you fell second in that race.
Your own brother didn’t notice how quickly your opinion changed on Sanji until it was just you two on the boat. You guys made a clean stop at the island you desired, but stayed behind with Zoro as he kept watch.
Subtly hinting you weren’t as eager as you were before to leave.
Your fingers tapped against the wood next to his sleeping position. “The cook is cute.” You said suddenly, pushing yourself back with a knowing look. “I might’ve just fallen for him.”
Brown eyes stared back at you in pure disgust, a little bit of shock as well. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He made a baffled noise, falling deeper into his sleeping position. “Just tell me if he does anything.” He grunted reluctantly, knowing nothing he could say would convince you.
rule number TWO, don’t get caught by the brother. ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
Koby wants to say he was drawn to you a lot quicker than he would like to admit. You were already grabbing his hand, biggest glint in your eyes just from the things you’ve heard about him. At the time, you’d just been a person he’d heard about through stories or complaints.
There was a pause before you let go of his hand after a casual shake. It only lasted a second, maybe less. But it was enough for him to realize you were still holding his hand. The thought hit him so suddenly that he nearly let go on instinct, but instead he slowly pulled back with fingers tracing yours.
“It’s.. it’s nice to meet you too.” He murmured, straightened himself immediately.
Suddenly you pointed at him so quickly you nearly lost your balance, the sudden enthusiasm caught him off guard. “Sorry, I just can’t believe I’m seeing you.” You said a bit sheepishly, “You’re much cuter in person.”
But before he could respond you were already getting hugged by your teary eyed brother, also known as his closest friend, Helmeppo.
Koby mentally buried his face in his hands, there’s rules about liking his bestfriends younger sister, right? There should be, because he feels extremely guilty about it right now.
And judging by the suspicious look Helmeppo was now giving him, Koby knew he was turning red. Fast. Very, very fast.
The following weeks were easier, at least in his definition. His responsibilities as a marine hadn't changed. His days were packed from sunrise to long after dark. By all accounts, he should have been far too busy to spend time thinking about a single person.
Of course, he wasn’t. That realization became even worse when he found out you would be joining the same ship for a few months.
You joined training exercises with his unit. Ate lunch with them. Somehow became part of the routine so naturally that Koby couldn’t remember when it started. If anything, he didn’t mind it. The problem was that every single time you talked or smiled at him, it felt catastrophically unfair.
Still, he plays it cool to his best ability. Koby doesn’t treat you any different, keeping up with the harmless things. Like inside jokes, lingering conversations, the stuff he could handle.
One evening after training, the two of you remained on deck long after everyone else had gone below. You sat beside the railing with your legs dangling over the edge while Koby leaned nearby. He warned you it was dangerous, but you were stubborn.
The conversation drifted from stories, then to embarrassing memories then, to absolutely nothing important at all. At one point you laughed so hard you nearly lost your balance.
Instinctively, Koby reached forward for you, his hand caught yours with a sense of urgency. His face frowned subtly, holding his breath while you stared back at him.
The movement happened so naturally neither of you reacted immediately. His fingers wrapped around yours, something he was too scared to do the first time. Yours tightened back. For a second, neither of you moved from the spot.
Koby could feel the warmth of your hand, could feel your pulse. Could feel his own heartbeat becoming dangerously loud.
Any sort of laughter faded, silence taking up audible noise. Restraint felt far more difficult than it ever had before. You both pulled away at exactly the same time.
The rest of the conversation was significantly more awkward, Neither of you mentioned it, or could even forget it
Koby certainly couldn’t.
The memory followed him for days afterward, replaying itself at the worst possible moments.
It only pushed him farther from you. He thought it was too complicated, that it was fair to put a good making of distance. You heavily thought otherwise.
Just months of feelings sitting quietly, two people who had finally run out of reasons to ignore them, built up to this moment.
“Koby.”
His throat felt dry, a little strained at the current moment. “Yeah?”
The tension got worse during training, and unfortunately for Koby, you loved close combat exercises during private practice. Meaning you were constantly within arm’s reach, always.. touching.
This afternoon you had him pinned against the ground, your legs straddled around his waist. He could feel his breath hitch at every movement, unnecessary heat building up. Everything felt way too tedious.
Your forearm pressed lightly against his shoulder as you held him down. “You gave up way too easily.”
Koby’s brain stopped functioning, thoughts tripping over each other as he tried to find something, anything, that sounded normal. The worst part wasn’t even the position, it was you, close enough that he could barely think straight.
“Y-You’ve gotten better…?” He stuttered, tried and failed to get up from your hold. And in an extremely quiet voice, mistaken for the shuffling. “You’re too close.”
You sadly didn’t hear that one.
“You’re a liar.” You leaned down, a cheeky grin forming before it slowly faltered. His expression softened at the shift, it took a few second for panic to settle.
You didn’t do well knowing a guy you thought had interest in you to start to distance himself. “Koby, have you been avoiding me?” You murmured, hesitant. “—Sorry, just.. I don’t want to assume.”
That hit very close to him.
Koby opened his mouth, then shut it again, words falling apart before they could form anything useful. What came out instead was a mess of half excuses and strained syllables, his gaze flickering away like he couldn’t quite hold yours anymore.
Your expression dropped into something a little like disappointed, and you eased off him, standing up. You were already turning toward the door, accepting it.
But before you could reach it, his hand shot out and caught yours again— firm this time, finally forcing himself to stay in the moment. When you turned back, he looked overwhelmed, flushed, but more certain than before. “Don’t go.” he said, voice cracking slightly before he forced it down.
He had an expression that showed multiple ways of saying please, something you didn’t know was possible. Koby swallowed hard before he began to confess everything, the truth, a real feeling he hasn’t been able to ignore.
For a second, everything went still. It wasn’t until he saw your subtle smile did he realize how easy this should’ve been. He closed the gap, pulling you into a tight almost clumsy hug. It was cute, really cute. His arms held on a little longer than necessary, tension finally breaking as he exhaled.
You laughed softly into his neck, your own arms crossing over his shoulder. His grip loosened just enough for him to tilt his head down, brushing a few shy, lingering kisses along your cheek and temple, still flustered.
The door creaked open.
You both froze instantly.
Standing there was Helmeppo, mid step, clearly looking for you— his sister, and now staring at the exact scene of you and Koby caught in a too intimate pause that neither of you had properly recovered from yet. Koby’s face went fully red, arms still half raised like he wasn’t sure whether to let go of you.
“Uh.. ahm.” he started, voice immediately betraying him, he could hear you let out a suppressed gasp.
Helmeppo blinked. Slowly, his gaze shifted from Koby to you, then back again, “Are you.. and my sister—?”
Koby took a sharp step back from you like he’d been burned. “It’s not what it looks like—”
Helmeppo cut him off immediately. “It looks like my sister is in your arms!”
…yea.
Helmeppo exhaled through his nose, expression flattening into something dangerously calm. And judging by the way you couldn’t even look at him, you havn’t told him anything.
Then instantly, that weird silence turned into his subtle whines. “Koby, how dare you not tell me first!”
“I’m sorry— wait what?”
rule number THREE, don’t give special treatment ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
Law’s first impression of you had been simple, a stray cat.
Not because you were troublesome, or particularly difficult to deal with. It was mostly because you appeared out of the north blue.
You were Penguin’s younger sibling, which wasn’t as surprising as it should’ve been. That was because he already met you once or twice as kids, it was inevitable. Now though, you were nineteen and standing directly in front of him, no longer that same twelve year old.
A few years passed quickly after that, you quickly eased into the group in that time. And somewhere during those years, Law became painfully aware of something that everyone else had figured out long before him.
You liked him.
You genuinely liked him, and it was embarrassing enough for you already.
He hoped it would fade. Especially crushes on people like him, you deserved that much. A chance to move on and find someone easier to love than him. The unfortunate part was that you seemed determined to do neither, or at least let him believe that you would.
Truthfully, he understood it more than he cared to admit. Penguin, by your own repeated admission, had been an absolute ass growing up. Law had lost count of the stories you had the chance to tell. To a younger version of you, seeing someone actually knock sense into your brother had probably seemed heroic.
It was funny to see, but still heroic.
Meanwhile, you had accepted your fate of love with surprising grace.
Law didn’t like you back. With how concrete he is with his emotions, it wasn’t hard to catch on. He didn’t say anything, so you assumed he was avoiding that uncomfortable conversation. It was hard sometimes, tedious. But it didn’t get in the way of being apart of the crew.
It’s not like you wanted something so unrequited, you just had to live with it, or better yet move on.
At least, that was what both of you believed until a month ago. Or rather what Law believed about himself on his feelings for you.
Law still hated thinking about it, mostly because it made absolutely no sense.
The crew had docked at a port town after two weeks under and on sea, the crew needed some land. Everyone scattered almost immediately, eager to enjoy solid ground for a change despite being used to the environment.
You had disappeared for less than an hour before returning soaked from head to toe, your hair still extremely damp.
Apparently the outfits became unbelievably stuffy for you. You had decided that after weeks inside a submarine, swimming sounded like the greatest idea imaginable, a little bit of freedom to change out of it.
Law hadn’t cared what you did as long as someone kept an eye on you, and thankfully Bepo had volunteered.
That should’ve been it.
What Law hadn’t anticipated was you marching directly toward him afterward. You were shivering hard enough that your teeth nearly clicked together, a little bit embarrassed yourself going up to your captain in a bathing suit and still wet.
Despite that, you still managed to smile. “Where are the towels at again?” You murmured, gaze avoiding his. “Bepo took mine.”
It was a simple question, completely harmless for you guys.
Yet somehow his mind went blank. For one horribly long second, all he could think about was how different you looked outside the usual white jumpsuit.
He felt like a total creep with how long it took him to grab you one.
After that day, things became inconvenient. Because suddenly he noticed everything, your laugh, the way your eyes lit up whenever someone praised you, when you absentmindedly leaned against nearby surfaces whenever you were tired.
But he could ignore that, he was good at letting it go.
The current situation still felt like torture though.
Medical training days were supposed to be straightforward, it was a good educational practice every month or so to maintain good nursing skills in case anything goes bad.
Unfortunately for him, it did not do as intended when you were currently leaning over him with a stethoscope.
“Move the diaphragm higher.” Law kept his voice level fairly firm, forcing his attention onto the lesson instead of your proximity. “It was better than the first attempt.”
You nodded immediately, following his advice, ompletely unaware of the effect you were having on him. The stethoscope shifted slightly against his thin shirt
Your brow furrowed as you concentrated, slowly relaxing when you heard the thumps better.
“It’s a lot louder.” You laughed softly, clearly fascinated by the sound.
Law nearly closed his eyes.
Because yes, it was loud, far louder than normal. Every beat seemed to echo inside his chest. He could practically feel the traitorous thing trying to expose him.
Still, you remained oblivious. If anything you made it worse by leaning closer. Trying to do exactly what he had taught you.
Your eyes widened. You instinctively pulled away far enough to look at him. “It’s getting a lot faster. Is that normal for you—?”
Before you could finish, Law caught your wrist and pushed the equipment slightly back. The contact startled both of you.
“Completely normal,” he answered immediately. It was a lie, a terrible lie. His pulse had never been less normal in his life.
Soon enough, Law realized his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. He pulled his hand away back to his side, feeling an unfamiliar heat on his ears. And the cause still was too baffled to even realize it.
You blinked. “Alright, just don’t die.” You noticed the way his eyes narrowed at your tease. In that silence you tried cracking a smile, “My bad.”
He only made a grunting noise as a response.
You took the time to pull out the earpiece, placing the equipment on the medical tray.
“You did good.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, trying to fill the silence. “You get things down fast.”
Your entire face lit up, and suddenly the awkwardness was gone. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
The grin you gave him afterward nearly killed him. “So then I passed.” You cocked your head to the side.
“You want me to say it?” Law scoffed, but still amused by your determination. You didn’t falter, only nodding your head eagerly. “Alright then, you passed.”
You were pleased with the praise, but didn’t let that fact get to you. You appreciated his lessons and left without anything more than professionalism.
The door clicked shut, silence settled over the infirmary. And Law finally dropped his head into one hand. A month ago, he could have dismissed it.
Now all it took was a routine training exercise for his heart to betray him. All it took was you. And judging by the way his thoughts immediately followed you out the door, he was beginning to suspect this problem wasn’t going away anytime soon.
—
Law was still determined to stay in denial.
A year ago, he had made it clear that he didn’t return your feelings. At least that was what he told himself. Changing that now felt unfair to you. So whatever he was doing lately couldn’t possibly mean anything.
At least, that was how he chose to see it. The problem was that his actions rarely agreed with his fair reasoning.
He started to notice things about you. Every scrape, every bruise, every cut you came back with after a job. Half the time you weren’t even aware he’d spotted them before you did. The moment he saw an injury, you somehow found yourself dragged into the infirmary.
He always claimed it was because someone had to make sure it healed properly. The first treatment was reasonable, second was precautionary.. third was usually just an excuse.
You never questioned it, because Law was a doctor. Doctors fussed over injuries.
Unfortunately for him, that was only the beginning to his run of don’t make it obvious.
At some point, the crew started noticing how often he ended up paired with you. Somehow Law was always already going in the same direction of any place you guys walked.
If there was a task that required two people, he was there.
If you wandered too close to a ledge, missed your footing, or nearly walked into trouble, his hand was already on the back of your collar before anyone else could react.
Then came the familiar deadpan question. “Watch where you’re going.” Or sometimes just an irritated stare while he made sure you were steady again.
By normal standards, it wasn’t exactly sweet. By Law’s standards, it was kinda cute to see. The crew certainly thought so.
The crew somehow possessed restraint besides the few comments they’d throw. Had it not become unbearably awkward every single time the topic came up, they probably would have announced it over dinner every night just for entertainment.
But for you two, it was easy to act like it was nothing. If anything you just thought he was getting used to your presence since the awkward tension that came from you liking him
At least until you got sick.
You sat at the table with your elbow propped against the metal, fingers tangled in your hair. The room seemed warmer than usual. Every movement felt heavier than it should have, you were heaving like you’ve been doing something.
Law entered the dining room carrying a stack of papers, making a note to check every room before night came.
He barely glanced up at first, at least until he realize it was you that was out here. He stopped in his tracks, eyeing you with subtle surprise.
You managed a weak greeting. “Hello.”
Law didn’t answer, instead he took notes of every unusual behavior. A second later he was standing beside your chair. You barely had time to process it before his palm settled against your forehead. An action neither of you guys expected.
The contact lasted only a moment, still, it felt long enough. Your breath caught, heat already burning in your face became much worse.
Law seemed equally aware of what he’d just done. His hand disappeared almost immediately back to his sides, propping the papers on the table.
He cleared his throat before talking. “You’re sick.” The diagnosis was annoyingly simple, but made the point clear. He tilted his head toward the doorway, telling you to follow. “Should’ve told me sooner.”
Normally you would’ve argued, right now you didn’t have the energy. When you pushed yourself to your feet, however, your legs disagreed with the decision. The room swayed, you caught yourself against the table before you fell completely.
Law made a huff that could’ve been mistaken a laugh, only making you more embarrassed. With a quiet sigh, he stepped back toward you and offered an arm.
He was kind about it, didn’t even make a comment about your lack of ability to even walk. But it was still awkward. You accepted his help anyway.
The moment you did, you caught sight of Shachi. The man looked like he’d just witnessed a miracle, his jaw was hanging open. He had so much enthusiasm it shocked you. You didn’t even get a chance to comment on it but the time he was already walking away.
You ignored him. Mostly because a part of didn’t want to acknowledge what this looked like.
The following days weren’t much better, you sinked into the bed with no other option. Penguin handled most of your meals, still teasing you but made sure you ate. The crew hovered around you like you were on the verge of death instead of suffering through a miserable fever.
Law, however, was somehow worse than any of that. He checked on you constantly. Not enough to seem obvious, just enough that you noticed.
Every few hours he’d appear in the infirmary or your room under the excuse of retrieving something, filing paperwork, organizing medicine, or checking equipment.
Then he’d casually take your temperature, ask how you felt with a weird calmness. Inspect whatever symptoms remained, and leave.
..Only to come back again later.
With nothing else to do, you spent most of your recovery watching him work. That flutter in your heart thumping again.
On a rare occasion, small conversations happened.
“Thank you, Law.” You suddenly murmured, bringing the tea in your hand closer to your face.
That made his pen stop moving, glancing at you before uncomfortably shuffling in his seat. “Where this coming from?” He asked suspiciously, leaning back. “You’re still taking your medication.”
You suddenly let out a hearty laugh, despite your sore throat. “Can’t I be grateful?” You pulled the covers closer to your lap. “You’ve done so much for me, I feel guilty.”
“Don’t be.” He said instantly, his hand getting dangerously close to your face. You don’t know what you braced for, heart pounding, but it wasn’t a flick to the forehead.
You yelped at first, glaring at him with confusion. Though what you saw made all your anger go away, simply from how he was naturally able to laugh so nicely.
A smile still lingered on his face, finally turning back towards the papers. “I don’t.. can’t have you dying on me, so just rest instead of thinking too hard about it.”
You know exact why you fell for him, times like this made it so easy. Though you don’t know why it’s been recently starting to feel mutual.
You began to notice those same signs as well. It wasn’t enough to accuse him of anything. But it was enough to make you wonder, especially because Law treated everyone fairly.
That was one of the things you respected most about him.
So why were things different now?
Your crewmates constantly teased you about it, even your own brother. They would notice you watch him in awe or stay oblivious, and at the time you were certain they were just trying to make you feel better.
The realization settled slowly, or just the idea of it. Tiny moments collecting together until they became impossible to ignore. The extra attention, longer conversations, and then the way his eyes occasionally lingered before he looked away.
You tried not to think too hard about it, mostly because the alternative felt ridiculous. Law didn’t like you, you had accepted that whether you liked him.
Hadn’t you?
Yet every day made that certainty a little harder to hold onto.
—
“Captain.”
He didn’t even react to the sound.
“Law.”
Slowly, he looked to his side, noticing Penguin standing there with a grin on his face. The expression immediately filled him with dread. “What.”
Penguin nodded toward you, talking with Bepo, first day without the dreaded feeling of sickness. You were still smiling, head tilting back at something the bear said.
Law’s stomach dropped, eyes narrowing before looking back at the paper with a grunt. “What about her?”
“Interesting question.”
Law already hated where this was heading.
“You know,” he started, using a hand for emphasis. “You’ve been giving her special treatment, we’re kinda jealous.”
Law immediately returned his attention to the person next to him. Unfortunately that only made Penguin grin wider.
“I have not.” He hissed, closing his eyes like it would help with the situation.
A laugh escaped Penguin before he shook his head. “For years I thought she was the obvious one, but you’re the one sticking by her side for a week straight.”
“Penguin.”
“You’re making this way easier than she ever did.”
Law slowly lowered his paperwork. The warning look he sent would have stopped most people, it didn’t have the same effect with someone that’s known him since kids. Then, because fate apparently enjoyed his suffering, your laugh echoed through the room again.
Without thinking, Law glanced toward you.
The second he did, Penguin started laughing so hard he nearly doubled over.
And for perhaps the first time in his life, Trafalgar Law genuinely considered throwing one of his first friends overboard. He knew he liked you, but didn’t need someone to rub it in.
“Just don’t hurt her feelings, yeah?” His voice softened, and that caught Law off guard. It was kind of him to care for his sibling. “I really need to earn some money from the bet I made.”
Never mind, he’s still the same ass.
“Hell no.”
rule number FOUR, don’t leave marks ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆
At first, you didn’t like him.
You couldn’t stand him, actually.
The first time you met Sabo, you were sixteen years old. Six years of wondering if Koala was alive, six years of hearing stories and rumors, six years of just wondering. Then one day she appeared again, older, stronger, smiling so brightly it hurt to think about the time you lost with your sister.
..And beside her stood Sabo.
At first glance, he looked respectable enough. Polite. Well spoken. It was the first thing you noticed when it came to his blonde hair and fancy top hat.
The illusion lasted less than ten minutes once he spoke.
From that point on, every interaction somehow turned into an argument. You hated how stubborn he was. Hated how he always seemed convinced he was right. There was not a single part of him that couldn’t push your buttons.
You were convinced Sabo was the most irritating man on the Grand Line.
Sabo, on the other hand, seemed equally convinced that you existed solely to shorten his lifespan.
Every time he saw you climbing somewhere dangerous, sneaking into conversations you weren’t supposed to hear, or volunteering for missions above your experience level, his expression would tighten.
The argument repeated so often it practically became tradition. A bruise on your hip, blood running from his nose after you elbowed him.
Koala standing between you both with the exhausted look, a hand pinching the bridge of her nose.
Seconds before she got her own hit on you guys too.
Thankfully, it wasn’t as common as outsiders would’ve assumed. At some point you became mature enough to realize you will be stuck with him till death. Dislike is still on the table.
As the years passed, Sabo became busier. That was natural considering his dedication to the revolutionary army.
Soon he was spending more time overseas than at headquarters. Missions lasted weeks, sometimes months. Entire seasons would pass without seeing him.
You didn’t mind at first, it’s not like you guys had the sweetest conversations.
Sometimes when you see him at the port, you send out a congratulations for finishing the mission. A small courtesy that lasted thirty seconds. You almost wondered if he was as awkward as you realizing how much has change.
Even as years have passed, you did not have a great relationship with him.
But not a bad one either.
You didn’t want to think about how every year made it a little harder to convince yourself he was as awful as you’d once believed. Those few good moments you had with him changed your entire perspective, he was addicting.
You hated how easily he could make your heart race right before saying something that made you want to shove him overboard.
Most of all, you hated the doubt that lingered behind every interaction.
No matter what he did, no matter how much he seemed to care, there was always a constant presence at his side. Someone he trusted without question. Someone who belonged in his life long before you did.
Koala. You weren’t particularly jealous of the relationship, you loved her too much for that, but rather how you were involved.
Every time he showed concern for you, every time he remembered something important, every time he went out of his way to help, that ugly little thought returned. Maybe it wasn’t you.
The possibility made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain. It was unreasonable.
Yet the more you found yourself caring about him, the harder it became to ignore. Because if you were being honest, that fear was no longer coming from annoyance.
It was coming from the terrifying realization that his answer actually mattered to you.
—
You were halfway down the corridor before you heard footsteps behind you. Of course he followed you after you left the conversation. Part of you had hoped he would let the argument die for a few hours. Apparently that had been too much to ask.
“Are you seriously still angry?” He hissed, it was sharp with disbelief.
You stopped so abruptly your boots scraped against the floor, spinning around, you finally faced him.
The frustration that had been simmering in your chest all evening started with him, ended with him. You do not know what changed in the two month duration he was gone. He stood several feet away, one hand clenched tightly around the black glove he’d removed earlier, his expression twisted into something between annoyance and confusion.
As if he genuinely could not understand why you were upset.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shot back.
Usually fights like these went physical, but that was the kid in you that wanted that. You guys were older now, so it meant having this uncomfortable conversation.
Despite it being the first switch in your guys relationship, you do not vividly remember it. It went on with the usual stubborn back and forth, but this time you did not hold back.
You said something that caught him off guard. He forgot everything he had to say. Sabo’s expression changed so quickly you almost missed it, for a brief second, he looked genuinely blindsided.
“You really think that’s it?” he asked quietly, he somehow lost all that bite he had. “That you’re only Koala’s sister to me?”
“What else am I supposed to think?”
His laugh was short and humorless. “Right.”
The word fell flat between you. You immediately wished you hadn’t said it. “Sabo—”
“It’s just funny.” He looked away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “I was sitting here wondering how much more obvious I could’ve been.”
Your stomach twisted, a feeling you weren’t prepared for when you started this. “What?” You murmured, the response sounded weak even to your own ears.
“I thought you just didn’t want to notice.” For the first time since the conversation began, Sabo took a step closer. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if he did. “So, do you really think I follow you around because of that?” he asked.
He didn’t even give you a chance to respond.
“You think I stay up waiting for you to get back because you’re Koala’s sister?”
The confidence behind your first answer faltered. When he actually said it out loud, the explanation you made sounded ridiculous.
“Every mission,” he continued, taking another step. “Every report. Every time someone mentions your name, I’m the first one asking questions.”
You wanted him to stop, you needed him to before it became real. But that was the logical part of you. The emotional one never felt so reassured before, and would have him never stop.
“And do you know how ridiculous that is?” His frustration finally cracked through “You are the stubborn girl who could never leave my mind. That’s who you are to me.”
The unfinished sentence lingered in the space between you. He didn’t say it, but you knew what the following was.
Looking at him now, standing only a few feet away, it became impossible to keep pretending otherwise. The denial you’d been clinging to felt thinner by the second. Very few people got to see this version of him. The one standing in front of you now, so vulnerable and honest.
His eyes drifted briefly toward your hands, then back to your face. He was silently asking permission. When he reached forward, his movements were slow enough for you to pull back.
You didn’t.
His fingers wrapped carefully around yours, it was oddly intimate. You’ve held his hand before, but not like this. The contact alone nearly undid you.
Sabo let out a quiet breath, following with a chuckle of disbelief. “I’m shocked it took so long.”
You let out an agonizing sigh. “Sorry.”
His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, bringing it closer to his face. “I don’t care because I have to.” His voice was barely above a murmur. “I care because it’s you.”
That realization terrified you almost as much as it terrified him, years of this irritation only continued for comfort, not because it was real. It was just easier acting like it.
That was the first day you left a mark. You vividly rememberer throwing the cravat, tugging down at the top of his shirt. Sabo whispered in your ear, a mixture of concern and tease, but shut his mouth when you sucked a spot of his skin. It was rough and mean, a bit of your old irritation in it.
Sabo hissed at first, slipping his hands into your hair as you continued. Once you let off with a pop, you both realized how much better that was than rustling on the floor when you guys ticked each other off.
A hickey on his neck for the first day of confessing, how romantic you guess. Expected from two people with no romantic experience.
You guys did not make it official yet for that reason. But slowly, other people began to notice how your guys relationships has changed.
They began to see you both alone a lot more, during lunch or any break. Sometimes training sessions were spent together as well. But neither of you showed romantic display until it was private. He would nip at your shoulders sometimes, only sharing a sneaky glance before walking away.
It was all the marking that became slightly public. He was a tease, and you were too stubborn to back out. Over time, it became impossible to not see despite how covered his outfit is.
Throughout all of this, Koala did not bat at eye in any romantic relation. You would assume she was actually good at picking up hints, and usually she is! But this was more out of ignorance.
For years she’s known as you guys to never get along properly. She’s now seen a couple of casual conversations, merely thinking you guys were finally becoming friends.
—
The infirmary was quiet, a rare thing for them. Koala sat on one of the stools, sorting through bandages while half listening to Sabo explain how he’d managed to get yet another bruise on his arm during training.
He was sitting on one of the examination beds while Koala checked over a mark near his shoulder. As she reached for another roll of gauze, she paused.
There were a few faint marks over his chest and neck, something he never mentioned before. He didn’t even seem to mind them, rubbing a thumb against it before pulling his shirt up again.
Koala was still curios though, inching closer. “How’d you get those?”
Sabo looked at her, then glanced down at the spot, then back at her. A terrible sign already. He shrugged, “..Kinda just happened.”
She knew he was lying. And it would’ve been left like that if she didn’t get a flashing thought the longer she looked at them. It was hard to play dumb.
“Is the second in command getting hickeys?”
Sabo made the mistake of smiling, because that gave her a good enough reason to intrude on every detail.
“Who is it? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me? Does everyone know except me?”
His smile vanished instantly. “No.”
“Is it someone from the Army?”
Sabo stayed silent, which gave her a good enough answer.
“You’re lying.” She gasped, a little bit too excited prying into his life.
“Probably.”
“Sabo.”
He laughed despite himself, that only made her more suspicious. Usually he wasn’t this stubborn.
Since he always complained about getting ‘no play’.
Then something clicked. Her eyes narrowed, a small bit of her connecting the secrecy. The way he disappeared during breaks, the way you’d disappeared during breaks.
The fact that whenever she went looking for one of you lately, the other was nowhere to be found either.
Koala slowly turned, a finger falling against her chin. “..no way.”
Sabo immediately recognized that look, it was someone who began connecting way too many dots about her sister and her partner in crime.
“Koala.” He started.
“No.”
“Koala.” Sabo stood up. Unfortunately, panic made him careless. “You can’t tell her I accidentally told you, she’ll kill me.”
The room went silent, maybe for a second or two.
“My sister!?”
Sabo closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. The entire infirmary echoed with her voice, hell, probably the hallway outside too.
Koala pointed at him in complete disbelief. “Sabo, what the hell? I couldn’t have known anytime sooner before it got to hickeys!”
“We aren’t good at this stuff, ok? Ignore that.”Sabo looked everywhere except at her, feeling a heavy gaze uncomfortably on his neck. Instinctively, he put a hand there. “You were supposed to figure it out slower.”
“Slower?!” She looked genuinely offended, pacing the room. “I thought you two barely tolerated each other!”
“We did.”
“For years.”
“Correct.”
Koala threw her hands into the air. “This makes absolutely no sense!”
Sabo couldn’t help it, he laughed at her reaction. Probably wasn’t the way he had it in mind when he began liking you, but pretty close.
That made her even more exasperated. “Oh, this is funny to you?”
“A little.”
For a moment, she only took a deep breath. The initial reaction calming down, giving her a chance to sit. “Still can’t believe it’s my sister.”
Sabo smiled. “Yeah.”
Koala buried her face in her hands. “I’m happy for you guys.. I guess. It makes things easier.”
At least now she finally knew why the two people she cared about most had been disappearing together for months.
Summary: You are a noble from Goa Kingdom, yearning of freedom from the system. Outlook III, your father send you to Mary Geoise to participate on the marriage mart. His order are simple, to find a secure match as the way to get access for your family to become Celestial Dragon. You've never wanted this, but you caught the attention of certain red haired figure. What would you do about it?
Trope: Enemies to Lovers
Warning: All characters are legal , age gap , angst , dark romance , jealousy , mention of slavery , shitty celestial dragons behavior , shitty parents , NSFW , sex , suggestive contents , saint charlos , abuse of power , use of alcohol , cruelty , use of gun , use of illegal substance , sexual harassment , misogynist society , mention of prostitution , out of character , more tag will be added.
Note: English is not my first language. I'm inspired by Bridgerton books and series, of course i do not owe it nor One Piece characters, credit to the authors. Let me know if you want to be added on taglist whenever i updated this fic, thank you🖤
I originally wrote this story years ago on Wattpad, and now that my One Piece obsession has returned, I’ve decided to bring it back to life. The old version is still up on Wattpad, but this won’t be the same story anymore, I’ve grown, my writing has improved, and the plot has changed a lot too. Consider this the upgraded, polished, far-more-chaotic remake.
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send a '💓' in the comments to be added to the taglist.
The day Luffy rejected you on Valentine’s Day was the day you thought you could move on. But since then he began noticing you everywhere, seeing you in ways he didn’t before.
༯ ℒuffy x reader / highschool au / fem reader / humor / hurt and comfort / first kiss / sfw / oblivious / luffy being a fat ass /6.2k wc / one shot
A/N: it was actually so fun writing this idk why!! I have a soft spot for Luffy. Another song I wanted for the title was “Banana shake”, but instead I only referenced it. It’s a cute song though!
Afternoon light spilled through the tall windows in long golden strips, catching the floating particles in the air and making everything look softer than it felt. Outside, you could hear distant laughter, people exchanging chocolates, confessions.
Inside, it was just you and Luffy in a classroom.
He was sitting on top of one of the desks instead of in it, legs dangling, heel knocking idly against the wood. His hands were planted behind him for some balance, head tilting ever so slightly to the side.
What was once a fun crush turned into an overly long school year for you.
Luffy blinked at you, curious but not concerned. You realized he probably thought you were about to say something casual.
But maybe the distinctness of the red roses in each room gave him a fair guess.
Your throat felt tight, opening your mouth with a ghostly smile. “I like you, Luffy.”
For a second, he didn’t react.
He looked at you the same way he always has, which wasn’t complicated. The boy probably barely even knew you besides your name. Then his gaze drifted, your face, the envelope. You’re shaking hands. The box tucked awkwardly against your chest.
You could almost see the thought process, or rather his lack of one.
He tilted his head slightly, confusion, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it the way he thought you did. “Oh.”
That was it.
You waited. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You tried to straighten your posture, tried to stop your fingers from trembling so obviously.
He scratched the back of his head.
“Sorry,” he said easily, “Not interested.”
Ah.
You’d prepared for this outcome, hadn’t you? You told yourself that if you just said it out loud, if you just ripped the bandage off, you could finally stop watching him from across rooms. Stop waiting for him to glance back.
You liked this outcome out of everything, no awkwardness, no doubt to make this any more harder. You nodded before your brain caught up.
It would hurt, but it would end.
Your lips trembled, and you forced them upward. If you smiled, your body might follow. “Yeah,” you managed. “That’s okay.”
His eyes dropped to the box in your hands.
“Oh! Is that chocolate for me?”
There it was, that brightness. That immediate spark of interest that made him oddly alluring. You froze when he asked.
He slid off the desk in one smooth motion and stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Close enough that for half a second your heart betrayed you and jumped with hope.
He reached out and took the box.
And with your heart still processing a reasonable pace that wouldn’t kill you, you didn’t protest.
“Thanks for the food!” he grinned, giving you a quick, playful bow that felt rehearsed from a hundred other harmless exchanges before leaving.
Food. That’s what this was to him.
Just chocolate.
Your smile dropped the second you were alone. You stared at the closed door, blinking hard, as if that might push everything back into place.
Did he seriously take the chocolates?
A small, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up in your chest and died there. Of course he did. That’s who he is, that’s the exact person you liked and he showed it right in your face.
You pressed your fingers to your lips and winced at the sting from where you’d bitten them too much. “Shit, I need some chapstick.”
—
Luffy dragged the hem of his shirt up to his face, wiping sweat from his forehead before letting out a long, miserable groan. “So.. so hot..” he whined.
The heat clung to him like glue. His sandals slapped lazily against the pavement as he wandered through the crowded rows of vendors without any real destination in mind
Ace had suggested the new market a few days ago. He’s known it as Remate, though most people in the area called it the swap meet. The second he mentioned it, everyone wanted in. It’s the kind of place they’d spend an entire afternoon.
At some point, Luffy had completely lost track of everyone else.
Not that he minded much. Someone would find him eventually or he’d find them. Any works.
He turned another corner before abruptly stopping in front of a faded poster taped crookedly against a tent. It could’ve been consider a dirty one, something that Sanji would hang on his wall.
A woman stared back at him through peeling paper edges, lips slightly parted while holding a tube of lipstick near her mouth. The shade was pinkish red, a bit of glitter with the sun.
Luffy blinked.
And somehow, immediately, he thought of you.
You didn’t even wear lipstick, but it’s not like he knew enough to understand the difference between gloss and stick. Or even enough for him to remember the brands or shades or anything complicated like that.
But he remembered seeing the tubes left behind on your desk during sixth period. Usually Tuesdays. Maybe Wednesdays too.
His brows furrowed faintly.
It had been over a month since your confession, yet you kept appearing in his head at random moments like this. He didn’t even fully understand why. It wasn’t like he spent every second thinking about you.
..But lately, things kept reminding him of you before he could stop it.
He thought of what you’d like in that shade, or rather if you’d even wear it. Your mouth slightly parted, wiping the edge of your lip.
Luffy didn’t know why that interested him.
“Since when were you interested in lipstick?” Nami sneered, shoving yet another shopping bag into the growing pile already hanging from everyone’s arms. “The shade’s cute though.”
Zoro nearly buckled under the weight of everything. “How much more crap are you gonna buy?”
It was left on empty ears.
Luffy stiffened at the correct accusation, or rather how he was caught.
“..Me? I’m not interested in lipstick.” His answer came out too fast. He scratched the back of his neck, the guilty look spreading made it even worse
Sanji let out a strangled, envious cough from behind. “He’s probably interested since Boa has been following around our third period.” He shot a jealous glare, dragging out another smoke. “Some guys get all the luck.”
Usopp snorted, his hands occupied by what looked like two plastic cups. “What’d you expect? He’s an idiot.”
“It’s not like that!” Luffy protested immediately, tugging the collar of his shirt away from his neck. “She buys me food.”
It was way too hot. Or maybe that was just him.
In the end, the offense lasted all of maybe two seconds before his eyes drifted toward the shaved ice in Usopp’s hands.
He coughed. “So who’s that for?”
Usopp grinned, his face proud like he planned for this moment. “Take it already.”
Luffy brightened instantly. “Seriously?!” The cup was in his hands before Usopp could even finish nodding.
Luffy dug straight into the bright red edge of the rainbow ice, inhaling it. The cold hit his tongue and spread through his body immediately, cooling him down enough that his shoulders finally relaxed.
“Mmf.. thank you!” he mumbled through a mouthful of ice.
Zoro had a concerned look on his face. “You’re gonna get a brain freeze.”
“Alright,” Nami announced, adjusting the single bag in her hand. “Let’s get moving.”
“Right away, Nami-swaaan!” Sanji chirped, nearly sparkling despite the ridiculous amount of bags he was carrying. He immediately pointed at Zoro. “Don’t you dare drop any of them, mosshead.”
“Not all of us want to carry bags.” He growled.
“You’re right.” He suddenly agreed, catching the other off guard for just a second till it made sense “Should’ve known you were too weak to hold a few bags then. Pass them to me.”
“Excuse me?”
The argument started instantly.
Neither of them slowed down as they shoved shoulders through the crowded street. Bickering between every market, but too occupied to really fight.
No one paid attention.
Usopp scooped another bite of shaved ice into his mouth. “What’s the hurry anyway?”
“Yea,” Luffy agreed absently around another spoonful. “There’sh shtill more shtufff..”
Nami rolled her eyes, the sound of him taking with a mouth full got to her. “I’m meeting a friend after this. Her name is..”
She says your name.
Luffy’s mind went completely blank, every thought in his head had slammed into a wall all at once. His eyes widened before he could stop them, heartbeat stumbling so suddenly it genuinely startled him.
You?
Before he could even process the thought properly, the melted ice slid went the wrong way.
Luffy choked.
The spoon clattered onto the pavement as he doubled over coughing, shaved ice going down the wrong way so badly his eyes instantly watered. His hat nearly slid off his head as he dropped to his hands and knees.
“Holy shit!” Usopp yelped. “Luffy’s dying—“
“He is not dying,” Zoro said flatly.
“Luffy?!” Nami crouched slightly, startled by the sudden fall. “Are you okay?!”
Luffy coughed again, face burning red as he tried, and failed— to breathe normally. Why did hearing your name do that to him? His chest felt weird. His stomach felt weird. Everything felt so weird.
And the worst part was he didn’t even know why.
It took nearly a full minute before he could stand again, still wheezing slightly while Sanji smacked his back hard enough to nearly send him forward again.
“You eat food like an animal,” Sanji muttered, the plastic clear bags wrinkling down his arm.
Luffy barely heard him, your name still bouncing around inside his head. It caught him completely off guard.
The others exchanged looks before collectively deciding it was just an accident, continuing to move through the place with a pouty Luffy. None of them thought anything of it.
In that moment, lungs burning, he decided he was gonna figure out what it meant.
—
Luffy tried handling it himself first, for a few pretty good reasons.
Mostly because the last thing he wanted was Usopp yelling “LUFFY HAS A CRUSH!” across the hallway, not intentionally but wouldn’t be surprising. Or Sanji giving advice that would probably work for Boa, not you.
So he kept it quiet.
At school, it started with small excuses.
He’d suddenly remember he had a friend to talk to near your classroom. He’d take slightly different routes between periods if he knew you walked that way, lingering slightly behind. If he spotted you in the courtyard, he’d watch over naturally.
And every single time, he’d act weirdly normal. Which for Luffy meant trying way too hard to seem casual.
At some point, he was going to talk.
“You got chips?” was the first thing he asked one afternoon, dropping into the seat across from you without invitation.
You stared, completely baffled by the interaction. You looked around once, then twice, and realized he really was talking to you. For one, you still havn’t recovered from the rejection.
Your gaze flickered between the bag and him, you were extremely confused. “Hello to you too.”
“Oh, right.” He grinned. “Hi.”
Then immediately pointed at your food again. “Can I have one?”
There was something disarming about how straightforward he was. There wasn’t any build up, he truly just came up to you without a thought in mind. Which somehow made you more nervous instead.
You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, you should say no. Should’ve.
But you didn’t.
And since you accepted one gesture, it became a pattern.
He’d appear out of nowhere, say something random, hang around for a bit, then leave once it became clear class was starting in seconds.
Sometimes he’d ask bizarre questions just to keep conversations going, mainly because his thought process came from what he believed in the moment.
“You think you could beat a raccoon in a fight?”
You hissed under your breath, bringing the book down from your face. “No.”
“What? Why?” He asked with such a genuine tone it made others hate how honest he could be, including you.
And because it was Luffy, it somehow came off natural instead of crush like. You didn’t question how he oddly wanted to know a lot about you, mainly because you didn’t want to believe it as anything more than acquaintances.
But there were moments where his nervousness slipped through. Like when you unexpectedly smiled at him in the hallway first one morning, finally getting used to the interaction enough to reciprocate his smile.
He froze mid step, actually froze.
Then pointed at himself like there was no way you meant him. “You’re saying hi to me?”
You laughed, a bit hesitant yourself like you overthought what you guys had. “Who else?”
Luffy didn’t doubt you, not even a little bit. But he still turned to check if anyone was potentially behind him that you might know. “Oh.”
You smiled again, smaller this time. “Hi, Luffy.”
And for some reason hearing his name from you did something strange to him.
You didn’t notice the faint warmth rising on his ears afterward, too busy adjusting your bag while continuing down the hallway beside him. But Luffy noticed. Mostly because suddenly he could hear his own heartbeat for some reason.
It’s fine, he could survive that.
Or when he sat beside you during free period and became weirdly aware of how close your shoulder was to his. Suddenly he couldn’t focus on anything. He tapped his pencil against the desk too fast, glanced everywhere except directly at you, then blurted..
“You smell nice.”
Silence. You stopped writing on the paper, looking up at him with a shocked expression.
Luffy still hasn’t registered what that even did to you. “Was that weird?”
“It sounded weird.” You replied.
“Yeah,” he admitted honestly, face warm now, dipping his face into his hands. “Okay.”
Your laugh escaped before you could stop it, bright enough to make him groan dramatically in embarrassment.
“Don’t laugh!”
“You said it so seriously!”
“I was serious!”
Still flustered, he shoved your shoulder lightly in retaliation without thinking. Unfortunately, Luffy’s version of lightly was still stronger than most people expected.
Your chair tipped dangerously sideways, you yelped in instinct.
His hand shot out instantly, grabbing your arm before you could actually fall. “Sorry! Sorry, I forgot!”
And for a second he just stared, heaving a bit like he was the one who almost fell off a chair.
Then you started laughing again.
And despite the embarrassment still burning across his face, Luffy found himself laughing too. Because somewhere along the way, without realizing it, that weird restless excitement feeling began happening with you.
—
“You remember Luffy?” You suddenly asked, throwing your bag over your arm with a huff at the parking lot.
“As in the guy who rejected you in Valentine’s Day?”
You frowned, the bluntness of it did not come in softly. “..Yea. He’s been greeting me everyday before class.”
Well, that happened a two months ago.
You left out the part where it had somehow turned into brief conversations, never more than a couple of minutes. Or even how you began saying hi back.
“Huh?” She blinked, the silence slowly turning into her laughter. “So he’s your friend now then.”
“Don’t know.” You said a bit too quickly, the uncertainty in your tone was undeniably there. He wasn’t a bad guy, not at all. But that part of you still questioned his intention. “It’s weird, but it’s not like he’s doing anything bad.”
“Maybe not,” she said, tilting her head. “But it’s too weird. He rejected you, and now he’s just.. acting normal? And he even took the food you bought him after that? That’s messed up.”
Your jaw tightened slightly, the reminder didn’t really help.
“It wasn’t like that,” you argued, eyes drifting anywhere but her. “I don’t think he meant anything by it. Or maybe he just.. didn’t think? I don’t know. I don’t want to over do it.”
“Me personally I’d tell him to fuck off.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she reasoned, “if someone rejects you, they should give you space. That’s just normal.”
You nodded, well you had to. It made sense. It should make sense.
But then you thought about him again, how he looked at you the in the hallway. Or how he brushed your arm without a single thought. And how confusing it was that you didn’t want him to stop.
“As my final advice,” she said more quietly, “don’t keep doing it if it hurts you.”
That was the part that finally made you stop pretending you didn’t know what this was. Your gaze lowered to the pavement, fingers tightening slightly around your bag strap.
It did hurt.
But not in a way you wanted to walk away from. Because somehow, his kindness felt worse to lose than the rejection ever did.
But you’ll try. Try and put some distance.
—
Luffy chewed on the stick of a finished popsicle, an arm slumped on the arm of the bench. It was hot, unbearably hot that day. It starts to settle that it’s gonna be like this for a long time.
Beside him, Zoro exhaled through his nose, arm draped over the back of the bench “I’m gonna..” He breathed, a hand running down his face. “Find our way back.”
“No ya’ ain’t.” Luffy replied instantly, the heat took his patience with him.
“Hey!” His friend growled, lifting his head in order to properly glare. But even that was a bit too tedious for him so he laid it back down. “Yea you’re right. Let’s hope Nami finds us.”
Suddenly he heard a distinct sound that reminded him of you, a laugh. With how quickly he turned his head you could assumed he snapped his neck.
Zoro noticed immediately, a burst of energy he definitely didn’t have seconds before that.
“Oh,” he muttered, following Luffy’s line of sight, letting out an amused huff that could be mistaken as a laugh when he saw you.
Down the street, you were walking with a friend, a small plastic bag swinging lightly at your side. You were still smiling at something she said.
Luffy instantly felt his face light up, heart beating that didn’t feel quite like adrenaline. He didn’t why he was so happy to see you, see you laugh, all that boredom he had was replaced with something else.
He noticed you long before you did, only turning your head when he yelled your name.
You winced, giving a slow agonizing look to your friend.
The one you told that you weren’t going to be friends with Luffy anymore.
Yeah right.
The bag in your right hand rattled in crinkles, trinkets and cloths inside. Luffy didn’t particularly care about it, just taking a curious glance down as he stepped up to you.
“Hey!” He grinned, getting scarily close. “Didn’t expect to see you outside of school.”
“Yea..” you replied carefully, still adjusting to his sudden appearance.
Zoro strolled up behind him more slowly, hands in his pockets. He was definitely eyeing you, it was embarrassingly intrusive. “You’re scaring her, idiot.”
“I am not,” Luffy shot back instantly, without even looking. Then, turning to you like that settled it. “Right? I’m not scary.”
There was no real intimidation in it, just Luffy being Luffy. But it was oddly persistent.
“I..” you started, then stopped when he leaned in slightly, waiting like your answer was the most important thing in the world.
“Uh, yeah, I know him,” you said, mostly to end the staring contest forming between the three of you.
Luffy’s face lit up immediately, a hint of confidence in his face. “See?! I told you!”
Zoro sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “No one said you didn’t.”
Luffy ignored him completely, his attention heading right back to you. “Do you know where the mall is? We got lost.”
“Lost?” You repeated, letting out a short laugh.
“Just tell us the way, it’s already as embarrassing as it is.” Zoro sighed.
“Alright.” You nodded with a chuckle. “It’s just right around the corner—“
“—But.” Your friend added in, suddenly super smiley. “We’re actually heading the same way, so if you want we can walk together.”
That was an easy yes from them, and unsure ‘ok..’ From you.
The walk to the mall ended up way louder than expected, well first you didn’t expect to actually join their entire group.
Mostly because Usopp spotted Luffy from across the street and immediately started yelling about how they “managed to find them,” while Sanji complained none of them texted him where they disappeared to. Nami looked one second away from hitting all of them with her bag.
That was their concern until they saw you and Luffy shoulder to Shoulder.
Nami called your name first, giving you a quick hug before pulling back. “I’m glad you’re coming with us,” she added with a bright, suspicious smile. “And your friend.”
Her tone was welcoming, but there was already that subtle assessing look she gave.
She hooked a finger around one of the bags she was carrying and gave it a light swing. “Ignore my friends.”
“Not me though right?” Usopp grinned, tilting his head into the conversation.
“Especially you.”
“Hey, you liar!”
The moment barely had time to settle before Sanji came in.
“Ohhh a beloved angel has arrived!” Sanji practically appeared out of nowhere and took your hand delicately. “I am at your service,” he declared.
You froze for a second, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. “Thank you?” you managed.
Of course, Luffy from behind was a bit hurt, jealous is a better word. He was trying to decide which part he didn’t like up until the group moved on. The following moments became more natural, it was weird to see how you clicked with them so easily.
But a separate thought was how attached Luffy was.
Not obvious enough for anyone else to call it out directly, but enough that you to notice it. Every time the walkways got crowded, his hand would lightly touch your back to guide you through people. If someone accidentally bumped into you, he’d immediately glance over. Even inside stores, he kept drifting back toward wherever you were like he forgot the others existed.
Nami didn’t even get a chance to finish handing out the shopping bags properly before the situation immediately spiraled.
“Here— Luffy, hold these,” she said, already shoving a couple of heavy bags into his arms.
Luffy caught them, stared at them for half a second and immediately reconsidering all his choices that brought him here. “Why me…” he muttered.
“Because you’re strong,” Nami replied sweetly, which somehow made it sound more threatening than anything else.
Usopp took a glance. “How do you even have the money for this?”
“I’m shopping for Vivi too of course.”
Luffy only grumbled, shifting the weight awkwardly, already bored in one position
That was when your voice cut in.
“Ah,” you said, slowing just a bit, grin forming like a thought had struck. “Anyone wanna get boba with me?”
Silence lasted exactly one second.
“I will!” Luffy’s response was instant, raising his hand. Even faster than the words came out, he dumped every single bag straight into Zoro’s arms.
Zoro, who absolutely did not have time to react, lurched forward under the sudden weight.
“The hell?” His knees dipped before he caught himself, glaring down at the pile of responsibility now in his hands. He slowly looked up, following Luffy’s trajectory.
Luffy was already gone, the world had narrowed down to one objective and one objective only.
Zoro exhaled through his nose, ending up saying nothing instead.
Meanwhile, the moment you and Luffy drifted ahead, the group naturally slowed without even realizing it. Then came the instant huddle together at the corner of a shoe store.
It started subtle, Usopp leaning in first like it was a secret briefing.
“Operation: Luffy totally likes her,” he whispered, dead serious about himself.
Nami pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a deep sigh. “We are not naming it that.”
Sanji, however, was already too invested since the start of the hangout to question it. “Of course he likes her,” he said. “Have you seen the way he looks at her? He was jealous when I held her hand. It’s romantic. It’s—”
“Focus,” Nami cut in, and Sanji instantly stoped talking, getting gushy already. “I can’t believe my friends like each other and I never knew.”
Usopp pressed on anyway. “How long has this been happening? He’s never mentioned her before this!”
Your friend, walking slightly behind them, answered without hesitation. “Four months I think?” She let out a disappointed sigh. “She didn’t even tell me they that so close..”
That alone made Usopp choke. “Four months?!”
“But didn’t he reject her on Valentine’s Day?” Zoro murmured. “So less than that.”
“Oh, right.” She thought about it again, calculating every time she noticed a change in you. Luckily for them, she paid attention. “so maybe three months? Let’s go with two and a half”
He nodded. “That’s pretty accurate.”
Nami put a hand out. “Pause! How do you know about this? You’re as dull as a rock.”
“I’m his best friend,” He scoffed, rolling his eyes like it was obvious. “I know everything.”
“Thanks for telling us when you found out Zoro.” Usopp said sarcastically
This time it was Sanji who let out a strangled cry.
Sanji clutched his chest as if he witnessed it. “Who rejects a girl on Valentine’s Day and then turns around and falls in love later?!”
“Luffy.” Everyone said.
“So it’s mutual,” Usopp concluded, bringing a hand to his chin. “But knowing my friend, he probably doesn’t even register it. Does your friend know he likes her?”
“Nope. She’s just as oblivious.”
Nami let out an agonizing, slow groan. “This just hurts to watch at this point.”
Just as the conversation started settling into collective resignation, you guys appeared again, shoulder to shoulder.
Waking like nothing in the world had changed. Except Luffy was already leaning in way too close to your drink, that was natural.
“But yours tastes way better..” he complained, practically hanging off your arm just to get another sip.
“Yeah, I told you that fatass!” you shot back, trying to angle the cup away from him. “Your greed sickens me.”
“Just one sip,” he insisted, completely undeterred.
Behind you, the entire group froze in synchronized disbelief. No one had the guts to say it, but it was hard watching.
The worst part was how sincere he looked about it, he wasn’t even in denial or even a tiny bit embarrassed by the way he acted around you.
You tried ignoring how warm your face felt after that.
The day dragged into evening fast. Stores started closing one by one, lights dimming outside while everyone slowly split off.
Usopp left first. Then your friend got picked up. Sanji insisted on walking home with Nami but got quickly turned down, leaving only you, Zoro, Sanji. and Luffy standing near the entrance.
Zoro stretched. “I’m heading home.”
Luffy blinked. “You sure you know the way?”
“Shut up.” Zoro scowled. “Of course I do, it’s my house.”
“I’ll take this idiot home.” Sanji grumbled, remembering his home is oddly close to his. The car keys rattled in his hand. “You’re driving Marimo.”
He eyed the keys, a smirk on his face. “Deal.”
And then suddenly it was just you and him left.
“You need me to walk you home?” he asked, a single bag in hand and a straw in his mouth, it was weird seeing him make gentleman like remarks like that.
It was too uncharacteristic for him.
You hesitated, checking the time with your phone before looking up again. “Actually, do you wanna stop by your place first?”
His eyes widened slightly, a flickering of thoughts running through his head. “Huh?”
“You mentioned earlier Ace was making food.” You went one time before, so it was easier saying it again. “I miss his rice.”
“…OH.”
That immediately sold him.
By the time you reached his house, the heat outside had settled into a warm summer evening. You slipped your shoes off at the door while Luffy loudly announced he was home. He mentioned having two siblings, both seniors at your school. Usually only Ace was home.
No answer besides the shower turning on.
“Guess Ace is upstairs.” He shrugged casually before walking into the kitchen.
You followed behind him, setting your bag down near the counter. The room smelled faintly like leftover spices and something fried earlier.
Luffy opened the fridge. Closed it. Opened it again like the answer changed, “Want anything to drink?”
You eyed the fridge on its side, a little bit hesitant despite the fact you’ve been here before. “Just water.”
He grinned before suddenly tossing you a plastic bottle that was definitely not water. You barely caught it with two fingers, holding onto it against your chest with a yelp.
“Seriously, Luffy.” You bit out, taking a deep breath. You took a good look at it this time, it had pink and yellow wrapping, it was a Banana shake. “This is a kids drink.” You laughed.
“So? It’s better than water, right?”
You stared at him for another second before the seriousness cracked entirely. A laugh slipped out of you first, and Luffy joined immediately after, loud and unrestrained like always.
You popped it open, taking a few sips with a simple hum. It was good, and you tried not letting him know it.
But it got silent in the kitchen, the only thing audible was the shower water going off. He stood there awkwardly, hand still on the counter edge. It was honestly the quietest you’d ever seen him.
“You know,” he started, hand on the back of his head. “I thought you were mad at me.”
You almost dropped the drink, settling it on the counter. “What?”
“Well you’ve been avoiding me a bit at school. I rarely see you in the hallways anymore, so I thought I did something.” He admitted, seemingly avoiding your gaze till he finally looked up with the most beautiful smile you’ve seen. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
Except he wasn’t.
You were avoiding him, or trying your best to do so. You still liked him, but you didn’t expect it to go this far at all. You’re too comfortable with him, and you respect the friendship more than anything.
You stared at him for a second too long, making him panic slightly. “Was I wrong?”
“I was avoiding you.” You admitted, it caught his attention. “But I wasn’t mad, I was just.. nevermind. Are you my friend because you felt bad for rejecting me?”
Luffy’s face twisted immediately. “Felt bad?”
“Yeah.” You shrugged, trying to sound less affected than you actually were. “I mean, I don’t get it. You rejected me and now you’re trying to make up for it by hanging around me all the time. Was that it?”
“No..” it came out hesitant at first, the second one came faster. “No! I’m not doing that.”
You looked up at him properly for the first time since the conversation started, heart thumping. “Then what are you doing?”
Luffy opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first.
His brows furrowed hard like he was actively trying to untangle something in his own head. One hand rubbed the back of his neck while the other flexed uselessly at his side.
“I just,” He stopped. “I wanna be around you.”
Your heartbeat stumbled, not in a good way. You felt dissatisfied with the answer, or maybe you were actually disappointed. “That doesn’t answer the question.”
“I know, hold on.” He looked genuinely frustrated now, not at you, at himself.
“I didn’t get it before, okay?” he blurted suddenly. “When you confessed the first time, I didn’t think about stuff like that a lot. But then after, I started noticing you more” He grimaced. “Like a lot.”
You stayed quiet.
“And then every time you laughed with somebody else I got annoyed for no reason.” He frowned harder. “And I kept wanting to talk to you first whenever something happened.”
Luffy looked down briefly before speaking again, quieter this time. “I’m pretty sure that I like you,” He swallowed once.
When the silence lingered, he started getting hesitant.
“I mean, unless that’s bad? Is that bad? Cause Zoro kept looking at me weird all day and I think everyone already noticed and—”
You stepped forward before he could keep rambling.
Then kissed him quickly, short enough to leave him frozen. When you pulled away, Luffy looked completely stunned.
“God, I hate you sometimes.” You breathed, feeling your heartbeat race. “I thought you wouldn’t—“
This time it was you who got cut off.
He entangled his hands into yours, leaning in until he was right in front of your face. You stepped back as far as you could until your back was against the counter top. Then suddenly he gives you a long kiss against the side of your lips, it was awkward and a little wet, but you chuckle anyways.
When Luffy finally pulled back, you could see the flush on his face, the dimple on his cheek when he giggles. “I like you—“ kiss. “a lot.” kiss. “So you have to date me.”
You could barely contain your own laugh. “Yes, will. Now get off my face, I can’t see.”
For a second, it was silent.
“Was it really that easy?” He huffed, a little bit mad at himself for how unsatisfying that was. “I really thought I was gonna die.”
“You’e still an ass.” You reminded him, head leaning back. “I literally asked you out on Valentine’s Day. How quickly do you think I lose feelings?”
“That doesn’t count!” He defended instantly.
“You are unbelievable.”
“But you still like me.” He grinned again, way too confident for someone who almost gave out on standing a second ago.
Unfortunately, he was very right. “Maybe a little bit.”
“A little?” Luffy repeated dramatically, leaning closer again. “After all that kissing?”
When the needy, mushy, ushy feelings began to die down, his forehead pressed against yours. He didn’t want to pull away yet, or even at all. You felt nervous from the way he looked at you, a desire that wasn’t familiar.
Luffy’s hands slowly settled at the bottom of your shirt, hesitating until you nodded. Then instantly, his fingers went until he felt the coldness of your skin.
He didn’t have anything dirty in mind, he just truly thought he wasn’t close enough.
You flinched for a second, then slowly eased into the feeling. Your hands settled at the side of his face, fingers curled into his soft hair.
When you guys leaned in again, you curiously pressed against his lips to try it. You wondered if he kissed anyone before, or if he was just following you. Because honestly you had no idea what you were doing.
The second time was a lot more satisfying, your lips parted briefly, whispering his name before you surged up again. He kissed you just as deeply, he licked into you slowly before drawing back.
“Was s’that alright?” He breathed.
You nodded quickly. “It was new.”
He slowly leaned in, “Good.” You kissed him with more confidence, chasing after each breath of air, the mixture of Banana Shake and Taro boba lingering in your mouth.
It was gross, pretty gross if you thought about it. But you didn’t, the only thing audible in your mind was how hot and tingly you felt, or the way you could feel his smile.
Suddenly you heard footsteps against the floor. It put you out of the daze, pushing him back despite his whine.
Both of you snapped your heads toward the entrance.
“Hey, Luffy!” His brother yelled, grinning ear to ear. “Who’s the friend—“
Oh.
Ace stood in the doorway with a towel draped over his shoulder, still damp from the shower, blinking slowly like his brain was trying, and failing— to make sense of what he was seeing.
You and Luffy were still too close.
Not just standing near each other close. Hands still loosely tangled in his hair, his body half angled toward you. Hell— his hands were still on your waist.
The silence stretched.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” he murmured, letting out a groan that was familiar to exhausted disbelief.
Your whole body went rigid realizing this was barely your second time meeting Luffy’s brother. You pulled your hands back from Luffy quickly, like you could physically undo what had just been happening by pretending it wasn’t real.
“I..uh..” Your voice cracked immediately. You cleared your throat, looking anywhere except at Ace. The counter. The floor. The ceiling. The Banana Shake bottle that was on the counter. Anywhere that wasn’t him.
Luffy, on the other hand, barely changed at all. He just blinked at Ace like he’d finally registered him. “Oh,” Luffy said. “Hey, Ace.”
Ace stared at him, then at you, then back at Luffy. His expression twisted slowly into something between disgust and resignation.
“I leave you alone for like ten minutes,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “and I come back to this.”
You made a small sound of protest, half mortified, half defensive. “I mean, it just—”
“Don’t,” Ace cut in immediately, holding up a hand. “I don’t need details. I really don’t, I pinky promise with a cherry on top.” He used his fingers to ‘zip’ his mouth.
Luffy, completely unfazed, gave a small shrug like he didn’t see what the issue was at all. “She said yes,” he added simply.
Ace slowly turned his head toward him. “To what?”
Luffy smiled. “Dating me.”
Ace closed his eyes for a second like he was considering walking back out of the kitchen and pretending none of this existed. His towel slipped slightly in his hand as he exhaled through his nose.
“Well,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “guess that explains why you’ve been acting weird for like months.”
Luffy tilted his head. “I was acting weird?”
“Yes,” both you and Ace answered instantly.
Ace shook his head, still recovering mentally from the scene he’d walked into. “You two are disgusting, by the way.”
You groaned quietly in humiliation, even worst when your support was on lala land. “Luffy, I swear to god, stop smiling.”
“What? I’m happy.”
“But,” Ace added after a second, pointing lazily at you both, “I’m happy for you idiots, even if you made out in the kitchen.”
You buried it partially behind your hands, shoulders hunched in pure embarrassment, wishing you didn’t start this in his house of all places. “Can we please not talk about it like that? I appreciate the support.”
“Exactly.” Your boyfriend crossed his arms. “You’ve done worse with—“
“—I’m not talking about it at all!” he yelled over Luffy. “Actually, what are talking about? My delicious food? Good, let’s go eat.”
…
“Sounds good.” Luffy gave a thumbs up, taking your hand to grab a plate like nothing happened at all. For a second you wondered if you had to get used to this.
LUFFY who fucks his secret wife!reader on sight! and his crew finds out about you...the hard way.
DID YA MISS ME, BABY ?!
PLOT. on route to egghead, the straw hats make a quick stop at a lively island, only for luffy to wander off and unexpectedly reunite with you, his wife, a detail he never mentioned to his crew. spending the day together, you both finally act upon months of pent-up tension, while his worried crew stumbles upon a moment they were never meant to see.
WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, fluff, porn with some plot, post wano, no egghead spoilers, aged-up characters (luffy and reader are 21), established relationship (they're married), semi-public sex, getting caught, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, kinda ooc luffy (idk you be the judge of it), use of [name] for the reader, fem reader, kinda proofread haha.
CHARACTERS. MONKEY D. LUFFY
WC. 5.5k
masterlist
art creds: suaayen on ig (one of the best op artists)
Fresh out of Wano and low on supplies, the Straw Hats decided to make a quick pit stop when the opportunity arose.
The island didn’t have a name on any map Nami owned.
From afar, it looked anything but quiet. The crowded docks overflowing with ships, voices carrying loudly over the water, and buildings stacked tightly together.
Bright banners hung between rooftops, market stalls spilled into the streets, and narrow alleys twisted through the city like a maze built on noise.
Nothing about it suggested peace.
They could blame their recent encounter at Wano for their alertness.
Perhaps the adrenaline had yet to die out, but this island screamed distraction...which somehow made everyone more cautious...or, in Luffy’s case, more excited.
“SHISHISHI! Let’s go!” Luffy laughed, already halfway over the Sunny’s railing before they’d even properly docked.
“LUFFY!” Nami snapped. “You’re not-!”
Too late. He was gone.
Usopp groaned dramatically. “He’s going to get kidnapped one day. I’m telling you. One day.”
Zoro stretched lazily, resting a hand on his swords. “Who’s dumb enough to kidnap him?”
Sanji exhaled smoke, lazily examining the docks.
“Idiots exist everywhere, marimo.”
Either Zoro didn't pick up on Sanji's taunt, or he acted indifferent.
Robin smiled faintly, stepping onto the dock with quiet curiosity.
“It’s an interesting place. I didn't expect to see an island on route to Egghead."
"Me neither. It barely picked up on the log pose!" Nami chimed in.
"It seems harmless enough. I wonder what kind of history it holds.” Robin observes as she too gets off onto the docks.
Chopper bounced beside her. “Do you think they have new herbs?!”
Franky cracked his knuckles. “Or cola?!”
Brook laughed, light and airy. “Or perhaps beautiful ladies? Though I do not have eyes to see them, yohohoho!”
“DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM,” Nami snapped, pointing at Sanji.
“I don’t need encouragement,” Sanji said smoothly, already walking off. “I have instinct.”
"Okay. Be on the lookout for Luffy! And don't overspend my money!" Nami orders.
"OUR MONEY!" Ussop complains, immediately shut down by Nami's glare.
They mutually agree to split off into groups so no other crew member wanders off.
Nami and Robin walk away, Zoro and Sanji right on the their trail as their usual banter ensues.
Ussop and Chopper run off with excitement, Franky showcasing similar enthusiasm.
Brook joins Jimbe in looking for supplies, the latter keeping Brook away from any women.
Within minutes, the crew scattered across the island, each pulled by their own interests.
And Luffy...
Luffy followed something else entirely.
He didn’t bother asking anyone where to go.
The moment his feet hit the dock, he was already pulled in by the noise. The kind that meant food and something fun waiting around every corner.
The stalls lined up one after the other with things frying, grilling, and steaming. The smell hit him almost immediately.
“Meat…”
He grinned.
Luffy pushed through the crowd without hesitation, weaving past people and slipping between stalls until he reached a long stretch of open vendors.
Skewers, fried snacks, stacked plates of things he didn’t recognize.
His eyes lit up as he leaned over one stall, then another, already halfway into asking for something before getting distracted by the next.
“Woah—what’s that? And that! Can I try that too?!”
The vendor barely had time to respond before Luffy’s attention shifted again, his gaze sweeping across the row;
And then stopping.
Not on food.
On you.
His lovely wife.
Someone his own crew didn't even know about.
It's not like he was trying to hide it. They just hadn't asked.
You were sitting on one of the small stools of a nearby stall, finishing up what looked like a snack, one hand lazily resting against the counter as you handed the vendor some money.
For a second, he didn’t move.
Then the joy hit.
And his entire face broke into a grin.
You stood, brushing your hands together lightly as you thanked the vendor and stepped away from the stall.
That’s when he moved.
Fast.
His arms shot forward, stretching across the space between you in an instant before snapping back, pulling you straight into him.
“Gomu Gomu no—HUG!”
“Luffy?!”
You barely had time to react before he wrapped around you completely, stretchy arms tight and unrelenting, lifting you slightly off your feet with the force of it.
“Shishishi! [name]!!” he laughed, like it was the best thing that could’ve happened to him.
“Luffy!! Put me down-!” you huffed, but there was no real bite to it, your hands already gripping onto him like you weren’t planning to let go either.
Luffy pressed his face into your shoulder, holding you there like he needed to make sure you were actually real.
“I missed you,” he said, simple and honest, voice a little softer than usual with his persistent grin.
Something in your chest tightened.
“…it’s 3 been months,” you murmured, your hand coming up to the back of his head without thinking.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sooooooo long!!” he whines.
Pulling away from you, your feet touch the ground as he steps back, but not too far.
Never far.
His hands slid up to your face instead, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looked at you properly now.
“You’re okay.” he said, almost to himself.
You let out a small breath. “…so are you.”
“Of course I am!” he grinned instantly.
And then, he leaned in and kissed you.
It was warm. Familiar. Like he didn’t need to think about it.
He pulled back just enough to look at you again, giving you the same smile before leaning back in.
Then again. And again.
“Slow down-!” you tried to protest, but it came out more like a laugh as he peppered your face with kisses, completely shameless in the middle of the street.
People spared a few glances here and there, some judging, others just smiling in fondness.
“…Luffy,” you said, but you were already smiling.
He laughed softly, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips before finally easing back, though his hands didn’t leave you.
“I haven’t seen you since I left Rushikwanya.” he said.
“Rusukaina,” you corrected.
“Yeah!”
“You didn’t even say goodbye properly.” You pout a little, Luffy's personality definitely having brushed off on you during the 2 years you had spent together.
“I did!”
“You waved and ran.”
“That counts!”
You huffed, but it faded quickly.
"I'M HUNGRY!!" He complains against your cheek, as you sigh.
"Let's go eat. We have loads to catch up on."
"YAY!!"
You had known him before the sea had claimed him.
Before he became a name whispered across oceans.
Before any of his bounties and titles or impossible feats.
Back when he was just a boy in a small village, loud and reckless and full of dreams too big for the place he came from.
You weren’t part of his world in the same way Ace or Sabo had been, but you had been there.
You shared a quiet bond, something the two of you were too young to understand back then.
When he left at 19, you didn’t stay behind for long.
You weren't chasing him. Rather, staying had never been an option for you either.
You became a traveler. Moving from island to island, following curiosity instead of purpose; stories instead of maps.
Your paths barely crossed, Luffy having already moved on to the next island before you had even set foot on it.
You had better luck running into Ace before you even reunited with Luffy.
It was a short meeting, but it had felt nice to be in a familiar presence. Especially since Ace often acted as an elder sibling to you.
During your departure back then, Ace had left you with a small piece of Luffy's Vivre card, knowing you had grown eager to see him at least once.
He had even promised to treat the two of you if all three of you ended up crossing paths together.
Which is why it had hurt terribly when the news of Ace's death reached you.
Even worse that it had been the premise of your long awaited reunion with Luffy.
Luffy had already been residing at Rusukaina for about a month at that point, training rigorously with Rayleigh.
Hancock had not been shy while showing reluctance to your arrival, but she could barely retort when Luffy held you for hours, sobbing into your shoulder.
That had been the only day he took a rest from training, preferring to be in your company and helping you settle in.
After that, forming a relationship had come easy for the two of you. Falling asleep in each other's arms, watching him train, tending to his wounds, sharing stolen kisses.
You hadn't even hesitated when he asked you to marry him in passing. It was another quiet evening when he asked you in conversation, and you agreed.
The two of you married quietly with the help of Boa Hancock (much to her disdain).
No ceremony, no dress, no extravagance. Just two rings and a feast.
And when the two years had come to an end, Luffy had tried one last time to recruit you, only to be met with rejection.
He had just grinned in understanding.
You didn't join him to his trip to Saobody, despising that place.
Rather, you stayed at Amazon Lily for approximately two weeks, planning your journey ahead.
About 3 months later, Luffy's name flooded the papers.
3 Million Berries. An Emperor Of The Sea. His new appearance. Defeat of Kaido and Big Mom.
You had so much to talk about, but no means to do so.
He didn't have a personal Den Den Mushi, nor did you know his ship's contact.
The Vivre Card had long been forgotten somewhere, so your best bet was to predict the Straw Hat's future route.
Although you weren't excited to go to Egghead, you knew there couldn't be any other destination for the Straw Hats.
You had stopped at this island because the ship from Wano only went so far. For Egghead, you would have to get on another ship.
But now, you couldn't be happier to have finally met Luffy. It had saved you a trip.
Walking beside him, he keeps your hand intertwined with his.
“You got taller somehow.” you say, studying him now that the initial rush had settled.
“I did?”
“Yes. And bigger.”
“I’m strong now!” he said proudly.
“I can tell. You almost broke my ribs.”
He laughed again, that same bright, careless sound. “SHISHISHI!”
You gain a smile before losing it a moment later.
“I saw your new bounty,” you added.
“Oh yeah?” he said, completely casual. “It’s big, right?”
“Three Billion Berries, Luffy.”
“Yeah! I am an Emperor now!”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “It's not just your bounty, Luffy.”
“Hm?”
“The picture.”
He tilted his head.
“You look… different,” you said carefully. “White hair. Different expression. Almost like-”
“Oh! That!” he perked up immediately, like you’d asked him something fun.
“That’s when I’m the most free!”
Your eyebrows knit in bewilderment, your steps slowing down without realizing.
“…That explains nothing.”
“It’s my form, I guess,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head casually.
“When I feel the most free, that’s what I look like!”
You stared at him, realizing that he had awakened his Devil Fruit.
You shook your head slightly at his familiar indifference.
“…You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned. “Yeah!”
Somehow, the answer made perfect sense.
Most of the day had been spent eating and chatting. Your pockets had been drained (not that you minded) with the amount of food Luffy insisted on trying.
It was ridiculously late at night, streets empty and quiet. And Luffy was looking for something sweet to end his day.
"Nothing will be open now, Luffy. All shops have already closed for the day."
"But I want dessert!!"
"You should head back to your crew. They must be worried."
Standing in front of a closed bakery, he grins in sucess.
"My crew can handle themselves! They're super strong! You should meet them!" He says walking towards the door.
Clutching the handle, it breaks off in one swift motion.
"Luffy! Why did you do that?!" You shout in a whisper, evidently mad at him.
"Whatttt?? I will leave some money for them!" He whines.
"What money, Luffy? Your pockets are empty!"
"You're my wifey. So your money is my money! Shishishi!" He walks into the bakery and you quickly follow behind him.
You roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as he digs through their packaged food.
You, on the other hand, shut the door and draw all the blinds, hoping to shield your husband's theft from any potential passersby.
You suppose you couldn't be too mad at his actions. He was a pirate after all.
The curtains were thin, allowing the moonlight to pass through it without any resistance.
You took a seat on one of the tables, watching Luffy scarf down his dessert of packaged puff pastries.
He sat on one of the chairs surrounding your table, holding out a pastry towards your face for you to have.
You eat it slowly, admiring your husband closely.
By the time you were done with your serving (which was like less than a minute), Luffy had exhausted all the bakery's puff pastries.
Finally, patting his stomach in satisfaction, he looked up at you.
"Where are you staying?" He inquired.
"There's an inn close by. Would you like to come with me? Or will you be returning to your ship?"
He rubbed his chin in thought for a moment before slamming his hand on the table.
"Of course I'll come with you!"
You smiled. "Great!"
"Ah!" Luffy's eyes widen in joy, taking a closer look at your face.
"What is it?" You tilt your head in confusion.
And instead of answering, he bursts out into laughter.
"AHAHAHHAHAHAHAH! YOU HAVE FROSTING ON YOUR FACE! AHAHAHHAHA"
He laughed slamming his hand on the table repeatedly.
You burn with embarrassment and anger, placing your palms on your cheeks.
"Luffy! Stop laughing!!"
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"
"Luffy!!" You were beyond irritated, wiping at your face to see if he was being truthful.
"Shishishi! You're so silly! You're not even close!" He stands up, giggling now, and he stands in front of you.
Before you can reprimand him, he leans in and takes a swipe at the corner of your mouth with is tongue.
"Got it~! Shishishi..." He teases excitedly, standing close to you.
You pout, hitting his exposed chest softly as he naturally makes himself comfortable standing between your legs.
Silence falls over.
Luffy doesn’t step back; he just stays there, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the faint sweetness still lingering between you both.
His grin fades into something softer.
He just… looks at you.
Like he forgot what he was doing a second ago.
“…You taste sweet,” he says, quieter now.
Your breath catches a little at that— stupid, simple words.
His hand comes up again, thumb brushing where he’d just licked, like he’s checking if he missed something.
He hadn't, but he doesn’t move away either.
And neither do you.
His grip shifts, fingers curling lightly at your waist, pulling you just a little closer.
He needs you closer.
"I reallyyy missed you. baby."
"Me too."
You lean into it without thinking, and that’s all it takes.
He pulls you in.
The kiss isn’t playful. It’s a little messy.
Maybe even a little too much.
You could tell he’s been thinking about it longer than he should have.
You exhale softly into the kiss, your hands finding his shoulders, gripping just slightly as you lean into him, closing whatever space is left between you.
He makes a small sound against your mouth, low, almost like he forgot where he was for a second.
“WHAT?!” Nami’s voice rang across the deck, sharp enough to make Chopper flinch.
It hit them all at once.
Luffy hadn’t come back.
Not after hours. Not after sunset. Not even now, when the island had gone quiet and the sea had settled into that slow, late-night stillness.
“…we forgot,” Usopp said slowly, like he couldn’t believe it himself.
Franky crossed his arms, frowning. “SUPER forgot.”
Brook tilted his head. “How unfortunate. Though, to be fair, our captain does have a habit of wandering off—”
“That doesn’t mean we just leave him out there!” Nami snapped.
Chopper’s ears drooped, anxiety written all over his face. “You don’t think he was really kidnapped, do you?”
“I highly doubt that, dear,” Robin said gently, resting a hand on his head. “Our captain is very strong. So don’t worry, okay?”
“But still…” Chopper mumbled, unconvinced.
Zoro, who had been leaning against the railing with his eyes half-closed, let out a quiet huff.
“If someone did try to kidnap him, I feel bad for them.”
Sanji exhaled smoke, brows slightly furrowed as he looked toward the dark outline of the island.
“Yeah… but he’s been gone a while.”
Jinbe, who had been standing near the helm, spoke calmly, his voice steady against the tension.
“Luffy is not one to be easily overpowered. However… it is unlike him to stay away this long without reason.”
That was enough to set Nami off.
She clicked her tongue, already grabbing her staff.
“That’s it. We’re not waiting around anymore.”
Everyone looked at her.
“We’re going to look for him,” she said firmly.
“Before he causes trouble, or worse, gets himself into something we have to fix. With MY MONEY!”
Sanji stepped forward immediately. “Of course, Nami-san. I’ll go with you.”
Robin smiled softly. “I’ll join as well.”
Zoro pushed himself off the railing with a quiet sigh.
“Tch. Someone’s gotta drag him back.”
“Good,” Nami said, nodding once. Then she turned to the rest of the crew.
“The rest of you stay here,” she ordered. “If he comes back while we’re gone, don’t let him leave again.”
“Aye aye!” Usopp saluted, though he still looked uneasy.
Chopper nodded quickly. “Be careful!”
Brook clasped his hands together. “May I request a full report when you return? For… research purposes.”
“NO,” Nami said instantly.
Franky grinned. “We’ll hold down the Sunny.”
Jinbe gave a small nod. “We will remain here and keep watch. Do not worry.”
Nami didn’t wait any longer.
“Let’s go.”
And just like that, the four of them headed back toward the island, completely unaware of what, exactly, they were about to walk into.
"Ohh-!"
Yeah. Definitely not something you'd want to witness.
Luffy had gotten comfortable between your legs, shamelessly inhaling you as he bit down on the flash of your inner thigh.
You were naked from the bottom, your top and innerwear hiked up to bare your chest for him.
He fondled you effortlessly, hands kneading your tits as though he was moulding something out of it.
Your thighs rested on his shoulder, making it easy for him to continue the movements of his hands as he pushed forward, tongue meeting your heat, cooling down the fever just a tad.
An arm rested over your eyes, as your other hand overlapped Luffy's on your breast.
"Mphm-! Lu-!"
His tongue works overtime now, making up for lost time. The time away from his lovely wife.
Luffy worked feverishly between your thighs, lapping at your dripping sex with unbridled enthusiasm. His tongue delved deep, parting your glistening folds to plunge inside your tight, clutching heat.
Luffy's hands kneaded your breasts roughly, fingers sinking into the soft, pliant flesh. He seemed fascinated by the way your nipples pebbled under his touch, straining against his palms.
"Hahahhh-! It's even wetter than before!" Luffy chuckles with a stupid grin, tongue lolling out to take a languid lick across your pussy.
Sex had always been a confusing topic for both of you.
Yes, you had been intimate on numerous accounts, but coming into a new marriage and never having been close to each other in that way, you had a lot to learn.
So, you both would stay up late after your training sessions, learning each other's bodies and understanding what the other liked,
But right now, all of that was forgotten. The movements, the pattern, the rhythm. All of it.
You just did what felt right in the moment. And for Luffy, that was his face stuffed in your cunt.
"Feel good?" He questions with his tongue flat on your clit, hands circled around your thighs, and keeping them open.
"Mhm-!"
Your fingers curled into his hair, gripping tightly as you bucked your hips instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction.
Luffy's tongue returned to your clit, swirling and flicking over the sensitive nub with focused intensity. He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, your body quaking with the force of your pleasure.
His own hands gripped your thighs tighter, fingers digging into the supple skin as he held you in place, stopping you from crushing his skull in your squirms of ecstasy.
"Mmmph, you taste yummy." Luffy murmured softly against your folds.
Luffy's tongue continued its relentless assault, lapping and suckling at your aching clit with single-minded focus. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his invading muscle as he pushed you closer to the edge.
Your fingers tangled desperately in his hair, nails raking across his scalp as you clung to him, anchoring yourself against the impending tidal wave of sensation.
"Ahhh, Luffy! I...I can't..." you gasped out, voice ragged and breathless.
Your chest heaved, breasts bouncing slightly with each thrust of Luffy's head between your thighs.
The arm draped over your eyes clenched into a fist, knuckles turning white as you struggled to ground yourself amidst the pleasure.
Luffy just chuckled, the sound rumbling through you, vibrating your core. He could feel your body's desperation, your need for release.
But he was far from done with you, far from ready to let you find solace.
His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit, alternating between hard, pointed jabs and soft, sensual strokes, keeping you suspended in a state of agonizing bliss.
He seemed insatiable, hungry as he always is.
As his mouth worked tirelessly, two of his fingers sneakily pushed past your entrance, sinking knuckles-deep into your tight, clinging cunt.
"Just cum babyyy~ Wanna taste you already..."
With those words, he doubled his efforts, fingers pumping harder and faster, tongue lapping and suckling with wild abandon.
The obscene sound of your pussy squelching filled the bakery, mingling with your ragged breaths and Luffy's appreciative groans.
He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering wildly around his invading fingers as he brought you over the edge.
You spasm around him, allowing him to retract his fingers and lap up whatever you had to offer.
Your pants quiet down, relaxing against his tongue as your orgasm dies down.
Finally pulling back, he admires his handiwork.
His face was flushed, eyes glazed with lust as he took in the sight of your dripping pussy, swollen and slick with arousal.
Drool dripped down his chin, mingling with your juices as he grinned stupidly up at you, very pleased with your reaction.
"I could eat you for hours and never get bored of it!" He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest.
Luffy's hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, fingers fumbling for a moment before he tugged them down just enough to free his aching cock.
It sprang out, hard and thick, flushed a deep, already leaking at the tip.
Your hands moved on their own accord, wrapping around his length, stroking the smooth, silky skin that felt like velvet over steel.
"Oh, Luffy, please..." you whimpered, voice ragged and breathless.
Your body was still trembling, your core aching for fulfillment.
"Hurry..." you begged, the urgency in your voice rising as the reality of your situation sank in.
You were in a closed bakery, in public, in the dead of night.
Luffy grinned, his eyes widening at your desperate plea.
He may have been oblivious to some things, but he certainly wasn't deaf to the need in your voice.
With a newfound sense of urgency, he gripped your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your rear.
"Okayy~" Luffy chuckled, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick folds, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.
"Don't worry, I'll give it to you real good, baby."
Without further preamble, he thrust his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke.
A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as your tight, wet heat enveloped him, squeezing him like a velvet vice.
Your back arched off the cold wooden surface of the table, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth, cool surface.
"Ohhh, Luffy!" you cried out, voice echoing mercilessly.
The sensation of being so suddenly filled, so completely stretched around his thick length, was almost too much to bear. Your walls fluttered and clenched, adjusting to the sudden intrusion.
Luffy started to move, hips pumping in a steady, relentless rhythm.
The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin burned your ears, mingling with your ragged breaths and Luffy's grunts of exertion.
"Hah, you feel- ngh-! ohhh-!! so g-good-!!" Luffy panted, hips never faltering in their tempo.
You could feel every ridge, every vein, the silky skin stretched taut over the thick column of his cock as he drove into you again and again.
Luffy leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was sloppy, passionate, and filled with a hunger that stole your breath away.
His tongue plundered your mouth, tangling with yours, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as he fucked you with a fervor that bordered on feral.
Perhaps it was your time apart, or that you usually fucked in a more personal setting, but you had forgotten a crucial thing.
Luffy...gets loud.
"OH! OH! OH! HAHH! You- Ohh-!!" He panted, voice ringing out loud and clear.
"I c-can feel you squeezing me-! Baby-! Amaz-! ing!!"
His words were punctuated by the slapping of skin on skin, the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies joining in carnal bliss.
He seemed fascinated by the way your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, by the way your body jiggled and shook under him.
Luffy's eyes were wide, drinking in the erotic sight of you lost in pleasure.
Your cheeks were flushed, sweat gathering on your forehead as your face twisted to one of pure sex.
Giddy, he leans down to pepper kisses across your face, biting your burning cheek lovingly.
"Hah, yes, yes! Luffy-! hahh-!."
He leaned down, nipping and sucking at your neck, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake.
Luffy's enthusiasm was infectious, his sheer joy at bringing you pleasure written all over his face.
He was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, and right now, his heart was screaming with a primal, all-consuming desire to make you feel the same, if not more, pleasure that he felt.
"Close-! Luffy-! Clos—!!" Your legs tightened around his waist.
Just as he heard your breathy warning, he felt your velvet walls suddenly clamp down around him, fluttering wildly before seizing up completely.
Your body went rigid beneath him, back arching sharply as a silent scream caught in your throat.
"Ohhh!" you gasped out, voice barely above a whisper as a sudden, intense orgasm overtook you.
Your cunt clenched down on him, gripping him like a silken, pulsing fist as your climax crashed through you without warning.
A gush of hot fluids flooded out around his cock, soaking his length and dripping down his thighs.
Luffy's eyes widened in surprise, brows shooting up to his hairline as he felt your sudden, quiet release.
"W-whoa...you're cumming already?" he asked, voice rising in pitch.
His fingers slowly rub your clit, aiding you to let it all out.
"Must've r-really missed me...!" He grins yet again.
Despite the unexpected swiftness of your orgasm, he didn't miss a beat, hips never faltering in their enthusiastic rhythm.
Your body trembled and shook beneath him, inner muscles milking his cock as the intense sensations washed over you.
Luffy could feel every clench and ripple, could sense the way your climax seemed to catch you off guard, sweeping through you before you had a chance to brace yourself.
"Hnghh-!! f-fuck!" he grunted, voice strained with the effort of holding back his own climax.
Sweat poured down his face, dripping onto your heaving chest as he loomed over you, eyes glazed and face flushed with desire.
You take his face into your hands, cupping his cheeks to steady him.
"Aaahh, baby, I'm...I'm getting close!" Luffy panted, words coming out in short, sharp bursts between each loud, drawn-out moan.
He was getting close...and loud.
You thought maybe the silent streets amplified the sound of his moans, but either way, it was desperately loud.
So loud that umm...well....
Nami walked ahead, her grip firm around the small piece of Luffy’s vivre card, watching as it trembled faintly and tugged her forward.
She didn’t say much, but her pace had quickened, her irritation from earlier now replaced with something sharper; unease, though she wouldn’t admit it out loud.
“He should be close,” she said after a moment, her voice lower now, more focused.
Sanji followed just behind her, his usual composure worn thin by the situation.
The cigarette between his fingers burned untouched as his eyes scanned the area, alert in a way that suggested he was already preparing for the worst.
Zoro walked a little to the side, one hand resting near his swords, while Robin moved with her usual calm.
The vivre card in Nami’s hand flickered wildly now, pulling them straight toward the source.
A closed bakery tucked with its windows covered by thin curtains.
And then it happened.
At first, it was just a dull sound from somewhere ahead. It echoed loud enough to make Nami stop mid-step.
“Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice hushed despite herself.
No one answered immediately, but they had all heard it.
Another noise followed almost immediately, louder than before. A rough, uneven groan that seemed to break halfway through, as though something had knocked the breath out of him.
Zoro’s hand moved, resting more firmly against the hilt of his sword as his eyes narrowed slightly.
“That wasn’t nothing,” he muttered.
Sanji’s gaze had already locked onto a building just ahead of them, his posture changing in an instant.
“It came from in there.”
They stood still for a moment, listening more carefully, and then it came again.
A sound that was unmistakably human this time.
Low. Strained. Dragged out in a discomforting way.
Nami felt something twist in her chest. “…that was Luffy.”
This time, no one questioned it. He was inside.
Sanji’s expression darkened completely, all traces of his usual charm gone as urgency took over.
“Someone’s got him,” he said, already stepping forward.
Zoro frowned, his grip tightening slightly. “That doesn’t sound like him fighting.”
Robin’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, her gaze fixed on the building ahead.
“No… it doesn’t."
Had someone really managed to restrain their captain? It seems so unlikely to them.
Sanji didn’t hesitate any longer.
“LUFFY!”
Sanji was already moving before anyone could say anything else, his foot planting firmly against the door as his voice rose with urgency.
The door didn’t stand a chance.
It burst open under the force of his kick, wood splintering as it slammed inward, the sudden noise cutting sharply through the quiet night.
The four of them rushed inside...
...and stopped.
Your turn your head abruptly in shock.
Your back was facing them, obscuring where you and Luffy were the most intimate.
Luffy, facing the door, halted in his moments, face still sweaty and eyes dazed.
"Oh. Hey guys!"
He greeted, as if his friends hadn't just caught him in the most obscene position ever.
Nami's voice came first.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Her shriek was so abrupt that it triggered your own panic.
"LUFFY! COVER ME!!" You exclaimed, completely humiliated.
"R-right!!" He panicked, doing the first thing he could think of.
His rubber arms elongated, circling around you in a giant hug.
"Not like- ughhh!!" You groaned, hiding your face in his neck.
Zoro turned away immediately.
Not even a second thought, just a hand to his forehead and a long, tired exhale.
"...I'm leaving," he muttered, already walking off like he hadn't seen a single thing.
Sanji completely lost it.
"LUFFYYYYYYYYY?!" he screamed, voice cracking as he whipped around, face burning red.
"YOU— WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
Robin turned around as well, quietly chuckling into her hand.
"It seems our captain has been keeping secrets."
Usopp was the first to break.
"...There's no way," he said slowly, pointing at you like you might disappear if he blinked.
"There's no way this is real."
Chopper peeked from behind him, eyes sparkling with pure curiosity.
"She's real! She's real!! Luffy really has a wife!!"
"I told you I did," Luffy says picking at his nose as you slap it away.
"You NEVER told us that!" Nami snapped immediately, still not fully recovered from earlier.
"I have a ring too. SEE!" Luffy flaunted his wedding band, and you sighed, already predicting what's to come.
"YOU'RE WEARING IT ON THE WRONG HAND, DUMMY! HOW COULD WE HAVE KNOWN?"
Usopp scolds.
"No I'm not. [name] wears it on her right hand. See!"
Luffy justifies, holding up what was clearly your left hand, as evidence.
You chuckle awkwardly as Nami and Usopp start angrily knocking at his head.
"I am so sorry...that you had to see that." You apologized to Nami, knowing it was nothing short of traumatizing.
She just shyly rubs the back of her neck, throwing a few no problems your way.
Jimbe waves at you with a smile, which you reciprocate.
"It is good to see that you are well, Jimbe."
"You as well. I hope your travels have been safe, [name]. It has been a while since I visited Rusukaina."
"Visiting would have been futile since I have been at sea for the past two months."
Sanji stood off to the side, completely frozen, staring at you like you were some kind of divine being.
"She...is...married to Luffy..." he muttered under his breath, like the words themselves were impossible.
Franky let out a loud laugh. "SUPER unexpected!"
Brook clasped his hands together. "May I say, you are quite lovely! Though I must ask...may I see your pan—"
"DON'T YOU START NOW!" Nani knocks his head.
Luffy bursts out laughing, pulling you into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.
He gives you a big smooch, biting your cheek softly as you try to get out of his grasp.
Everyone felt like they had fainted at the sight.
Zoro just shook his head, already turning away, but the small smile on his face didn't go unnoticed.
Robin stepped forward with a gentle countenance.
"It's nice to meet you," she said, calm and warm, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
"You as well. I have been longing to meet all of you. I suppose introductions are in order?"
You smiled, looking at your husband's crew.
Luffy grinned, squeezing your hand a little tighter.
"This is my wife!" he announced proudly, like he'd been waiting to say it out loud.
✦ paths diverged, hearts united ♡
✦ in the shadow ♡
✦ ghosts of us ☆♡
✦ a new perspective ♡
✦ time travel ☆♡
✦ threaded ♡
✦ (accidental) pda ♡
✦ jealousy in the switch ♡
✦ 1st anniversary ♡
✦ trapped in his cage ☆
✦ sugar & scalpel ⟡
✦ unintentional couple behaviour ♡
✦ undercover affection ♡
✦ surgeon’s soft spot ♡
✦ breaking down his walls ♡
✦ if only she knew ☆
✦ please kiss back! ♡
✦ shambles of the heart ☆♡
✦ fake proposal ♡
✦ fool ☆♡
✦ run wild and free (feat. luffy and kid) ♡?
✦ terminal: part 1 - part 2 ☆♡
✦ the hero beneath the waves ♡
✦ tolerate it ☆♡
✦ poison queen ♡
✦ shadows of the dragon ♡
✦ echoes in silence ♡
✦ bite-sized affection ♡
✦ overboard ♡
✦ three boats, one heart (poly!) ♡
✦ tell me no lies ⟡♡
✦ busted! (secret relationship) ♡
✦ tides of fate ☆♡
✦ I hate goodbyes part 1 - part 2 ☆♡
✦ captain loser ♡
✦ without the hat ♡
✦ between the devil and the deep blue sea (feat. kid) ♡
✦ captain ♡
✦ clingy combat cuddles ♡
✦ I'm your husband ♡
✦ under the surface ♡⟡
✦ uniform trouble ⟡
✦ you around kids ♡
✦ found family (reader with a kid) ♡
✦ her (feat. sanji) ☆♡
✦ ink & memories ⟡
✦ bound by pain ♡
✦ soulmate tattoos ♡
✦ promise coin ♡
✦ conqueror's haki ☆♡
✦ storm in disguise ☆♡
✦ after the flames ☆
✦ think quick! I'm a random girl ♡
✦ buried legacy ♡
✦ threads of love ☆♡
✦ between law and zoro (poly) ♡
✦ things you didn't say ☆♡
✦ stay with me ♡
✦ pregnant 🫵 ♡
✦ flirting with danger ♡
✦ a date to ruin ♡
•:°.★ Series:
✦ traitor : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - end ☆♡
✦ heartstrings : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 ♡
✦ borrowed hearts : part 1 - part 2 - part 3 (end) ☆♡
The Persistence of Dance (5.2k)
Study Aid (1.9k)
Not So Secret (3.8k)
✧.* Lucci *.✧
The Façade of Control (Mature):
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
✧.* Headcanons*.✧
Flirtatious Reader
Interrupted While Making Out (Brook's Addition)
Accidental Pet Names
When You're Jealous
First Time (Mature)
With A Promiscuous Reader
Singing Soft Kitty To Them When They're Sick
Whispering Dirty Things In Their Ear
A compilation of all my works masterlist because I just keep adding more. The fandoms I write for are not limited to the list here, so feel free to look at my banner or ask if there's a fandom I write for! I have a kofi, so feel free to leave me any tips if you feel like it. Writing asks are free just send them to my inbox.
Summary: You're picked up from the wreckage of a destroyed marine ship. An accidental stowaway. First introductions get off to a rough start.
Warnings: Depictions of violence, injury, mentions of starvation and abuse
_______________________________________
The Red Force cut through the water like a blade, sails full and snapping in the wind. The path ahead was clear, course charted and set as the crew milled about doing their own work. It had been a quiet day so far, the ship so far out at sea that not even gulls flew overhead leaving them in a world of peace as waves lapped against the hull of the ship. Shanks and Beckman stood at the railing, conversation light as they discussed their plans of where to head next as the crisp air kept his lulling Captain awake. It wouldn’t be long before the red-haired man would be found in his normal spot for this time of day, taking his afternoon nap in full bask of the high sun.
All in all a quiet day.
That was what set Beckman on edge first as nothing with this group stayed peaceful for long. He stood near the rail, rifle resting against his shoulder, eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. The last ship they had seen had passed three days ago. It had been small, hardly worth the effort with little more than basic provisions aboard coming back from a delivery route. He thought he had heard something earlier off in the distance, a loud roar like a thunder clap in a storm, but nothing seemed to come of it.
Then from high above in the crows nest Yasopp’s voice rang out.
“Ship ahead! Marine flags!”
Heads turned, a sense of excitement building among the crew at the prospect of a fight. Something to break up the monotony that they had fallen into. It was like blood in the water with them, especially when they had gone too long without anything to keep them occupied. Any Marines this far out should be more than capable of putting up at least a decent fight. Even Beckman himself found his pulse quickening at the words.
But that excitement quickly turned into confusion as they approached, plums of smoke becoming more visible as smoke cut through the air.
All Marine ships generally followed the same formations. Practical, predictable, but reliable. That's nothing like what they found here as they got closer. There was no formation. No movement or even cannon fire. No flag flying proudly With the stark symbol of the World Government proudly displayed. Only the wreckage of a single ship.
By the time they drew closer, it became clear the Marine ship was already destroyed. Its hull was split, half-sunk with only the front quarter left even remotely intact, debris scattered across the sea like bones after a storm. What wasn't already burned or splintered was charred and blackened. A number of uniforms floated by in the water, though Beckman didn’t give them too much mind. No chance they were alive. He was instead focused on what little remained. Anything that was potentially salvageable as his eyes scan the wreckage.
Snake let out a long, low whistle.
“Looks like someone got here before us. Seems they really did a number.”
Hongo snorted, gesturing to the scared marks along the sinking hull. “More like the fools didn't know how to properly keep their gunpowder.”
Floating planks, broken masts and torn sails lay in the water around them. Easy picking, even if he wished they had been able to put a bit more effort into getting them.
“Wait,” Lime muttered, leaning further over the railing as he and the rest of the crew joined their captain and first mate. “Do you hear that?”
They strained to hear anything, starting to think that he had only been imagining it, before a faint sound reached their ears.
Shouting. The buzzing of multiple voices overlapping each other, becoming increasingly clear the further they drifted. So it seemed there were survivors after all.
Beckman’s gaze sharpened, eyes honing in on movement as they passed the ship into view of more wreckage.
There, on a massive slab of drifting wood, figures were dancing about. Fighting. Three Marines clung desperately to the splintered platform, soaked and exhausted even as they moved about the edge in pursuit of another who seemed to be filtering from one side to another in an attempt to avoid the treading militants. They themself looked a bit more rough for wear, barely steady on their feet as the wood floated rock back and forth.
A fist slammed into one Marine’s jaw. A foot drove into another’s ribs, kicking him away as he attempted to climb aboard. The third tried to grab them, only to get shoved back so hard he didn’t come back up for a few moments.
The crew stared, all previous thoughts of fighting and bloodlust put on hold, now replaced with a sort of amused confusion.
Beckman leaned forward slightly, watching with interest. They weren’t just winning, they were calculating. Every movement was efficient. No wasted energy or panic. Just raw, stubborn survival.
Then he saw it. Metal flashed in the sunlight.
Cuffs.
Heavy, reinforced Marine restraints locked around the fighter’s wrists. A hindrance of course, but not one they seemed to pay too close attention to as one of the men boarded the float while the figure was occupied on the other side. He saw one of the men board the float with the clear intention of ambushing them only to have the chains of the cuffs wrapped round his own neck the next moment. The figure quickly pivoted using momentum to toss him over their shoulder and back into the ocean with the others.
“They’re cuffed.” Beckman murmured to himself.
That earned a few startled looks, everyone now leaning over the railing to try and get a better look.
“Seriously?” Shanks laughed, hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he squinted.
“Then how the hell-“
The question went unanswered as the shouting of the Marines increased, the battle reaching its crescendo.
--------------------
“Get them off!” one of the Marines, eyes filled with fury even as his voice spoke with desperation, rough from choking on smoke and saltwater.
It was exhausting running back and forth across the small platform of wood but there was little else you could do. Not when you were stuck in the middle of the ocean. Thinking back it hadn't been the best idea you had ever had for an escape plan, but there was little else to do. Not when they would be rendezvousing with the larger fleet in just a few short hours. Drastic times called for drastic measures. Even if you had died it would still be better than whatever they had planned for you once you were taken into custody. It wouldn’t be painless. You had been assured of that at the very least.
It seemed your remaining captors had grown tired of the game of chicken you played. No longer were they trying to climb aboard, and it was only too late that you realized what their new plan of action was. Instead they leaned, putting their full weight onto one end of the drift. The massive slab tilted slowly under their combined weight, falling to your knees as the wood ground beneath you shifted.
You froze trying to decide your next move to keep out of their hands. No doubt they would simply try to drown you if they caught you in the water. An easy feat with their combined strength and your current restrictions.
With a final shove the platform tipped completely. But instead of falling down towards the awaiting hands of the Marines as they had expected, you instead turned and with all the force you could muster ran up the opposite side, using the elevated end to push off and gain as much air as you could, traveling a good dozen feet before splashing into the water.
Waves surged as debris bobbed around you, a maze of potential concussions. You stayed under for as long as you could, kicking your feet and keeping your arms close to your body in an attempt to counter the weight that held them down. You were forced to come up for air, lungs burning. As soon as you broke the surface shouts chased after you and the sound of splashing could be heard quickly approaching.
“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath.
You swam desperately, unevenly. Driven by pure instinct. You didn't look back, only forward as your eyes darted about and then attempted to look for anything that could help you. You were no weak swimmer by any means but the cuffs metal was heavy. It was all you could do to keep your head above water, the salt of which burned your nose and lungs as you unintentionally swallowed mouthful after a wave passed overhead.
There was little left apart from small pieces of driftwood. Nothing as sizable as the small ship you planned to claim for yourself after the explosion. You might have been able to manage on that if not for your unexpected guest getting in the way and allowing the small vessel to be dragged away by the current. They must have been on the far side of the ship, just as you were to have survived the explosion.
A dozen feet away, half-hidden among floating debris, a battered barrel rocked gently on the waves. The kind that the cook would keep in the kitchen to hold spices. Watertight. Just what you needed.
You quickly changed course, legs disturbing the water behind you in a flurry of bubbles as you propelled yourself towards the barrel.
You drag yourself up, coughing violently and eyes burning, water soaking your clothes and weighing you down. Every muscle screams in protest. Your arms shake as you cling to the rim before collapsing against the barrel.
Your vision swims, chest burning from all the water you had inhaled, lungs feeling like they’re on fire. Everything hurts, from your ears to ankles. You should probably be more alarmed at the lack of feeling in your toes but can’t muster the energy. The water was cold after all, and it seemed your fingers were inclined to suffer the same fate. But there is no time for respite now.
‘Move!’ you scold yourself, hearing the approaching sound of others in the water. Their splashing was anything but elegant, slapping through the water like bulls in their haste to catch up.
You crawl, slow and painfully up the side of the barrel. The lid is heavy, nearly impossible to open as your nails sink into the seal, barely managing to separate it from the bottom as the shouting grows louder, and half-fall inside. There’s not much left in it thankfully. Just a few oranges that squish under your weight as you curl inward, gasping and throwing up water. It burns as it emerges from both your nose and mouth, collecting in puddles at your knees.
You can still feel the warmth of the sun coming in from the top as a large wave sloshes over the edge. With the last of your strength, you reach up and pull the lid shut.
‘Thunk’
Darkness. Only the sound of your own ragged breathing in the confines of the wooden walls. Your hands shake with adrenaline, the dull thrum of fear coursing through your body fighting to stay on the surface. Not a moment later you hear banging on the outside but find it in yourself to muster the energy to care. Certainly not enough to notice when the voices shout out in surprise, screams quickly cut to silence.
Inside the barrel, everything blurs. Your own little sarcophagus of wood and tar. Passively you recognize that’s what it will be. Nobody friendly passes this far out. The Marines already had plans to kill you and pirates weren’t known for playing passenger ship.
You would float endlessly, no land in sight. Buried at sea. Or maybe a Sea Beast would find you before then, swallowing the barrel whole in a single snap with its razor teeth. Maybe by then you will already be gone, spared the fate of being dissolved in stomach acid.
Darkness presses in from all sides. The air is damp, stale, and heavy with the smell of salt, citrus, and old wood. Every breath feels like work in the stuffy space. You barely notice when the barrel bumps against something.
Then again.
Voices filter through the wood, muffled and distorted, like you’re underwater all over again. You only catch a few words, head swimming and the sound muffled by the well-insulated wood.
“-over there.”
“Watch it! Don’t let it hit the hull.”
A thud, followed by a rattling shake that leaves you keening as your body is jostled about.
The barrel scrapes against something solid and the distinct feeling of bobbing around in the water disappears as gravity is reintroduced.
You flinch weakly, fingers twitching against the inside of the wood, too tired and empty to move. Instead you drift in and out, uncertain of what is real and what isn’t. Hell, maybe you’re already dead for all you know. The Marines would get what they wanted even from their own watery grave.
Sometimes you hear footsteps. Sometimes laughter and shouting. Another time, something metallic clinks nearby. At some point, the barrel is lifted and your world is tilted sideways as your stomach lurches.
You groan softly, the sound barely more than breath, before sinking back into the haze.
_______________________________
You’re not sure how long passes.
Minutes? Hours? Days?
Time has no meaning anymore. Only exhaustion. Only the dull ache in your wrists where the cuffs rub raw against your skin. You’re barely aware of anything when light explodes behind your closed eyes. Fresh air rushes in as the lid creaks open.
A shout is what finally draws you from the final dregs of sleep. Not your own. One deeper and full of surprise. It sends adrenaline coursing through your body, sore joints creaking in protest as your muscles second the complaint, trying to stand. The lid is off preventing you from giving yourself a concussion but the surprise and panic only leads you to knock over the barrel.
It's a scramble as you half tumble to the floor. The shouting has stopped only to be replaced by a string of curses as you look up.
A pair of goggles peer back at you, their owner a stout, rotund man that stares as if he’s seen a ghost. The lid remains firmly in his grasp, held in front as if a shield from a monster. It wouldn’t be hard to believe you looked like one. Weeks at sea with only a damp towel thrown your way every once in a while to clean. Even you could smell yourself after the first few days, and your captors only seemed to relish in your miserable state.
It wasn’t blindingly bright, which you were thankful for, but the oil lamps along the wall gave enough light for you to surmise you were in a kitchen of some sort, crates of preserves stacked around and a pot of something that smelled heavenly bubbling on the stove. There was definitely something with shrimp boiling away in a sea of spices.
That must make this guy the chef. Not too dangerous, you thought to yourself. He looked sturdy as most sea-fairing hands did but chances were you could outrun him if need be. That was until you glanced back to see him pulling a gun from his waistband.
Fuck.
Jerking back, wood by your leg shattered in a million pieces as the ear-splitting scream of the gun sounded. The second nicked your ear as you spun, still on the ground, getting your feet beneath you and stumbling away. A ringing follows, leaving you off balance for a moment longer than necessary. Already you can feel the warmth of liquid iron trickling down your neck.
The obstacle of the barrel only gave you a few moments to get ahead but already you could hear him yelling behind you for others. If the gun wasn’t enough to draw attention then that sure was. Another shot rings off, barely managing to duck in time for it to burst through the wall next to you.
The wood was warm underfoot as you tore through the dim halls, unsure as to where to go but unable to stop for a second as you heard more shouting and footsteps behind you. It was clear you were on a ship judging by the sway, and nothing else would have been able to find you where you were. That means another daring escape. Hopefully this time there was at least a lifeboat that you could swipe.
Then, up ahead, you spotted a concentration of light.
The exit.
You burst through the doorway and onto the open deck, blinking as sunlight floods your vision. Wind whips through your hair, salt stinging your skin. The sky is a deep blue, nearly blending into the ocean as the sun approaches its descent over the horizon. A few stars have managed to wiggle their way out from between clouds, barely visible.
There's no doubt that you're on a ship now if there ever was one before. Sails snap in the wind and though you don't get a good look at it, you catch a glimpse of a Jolly Roger painted across them. They flow in the wind gleefully. A sharp contrast to the rattling metal of your chains.
Pirates. Of course it had to be pirates. Only marginally better than Marines. At least they didn't have as much of a personal grudge. Your death would be swift if they caught you. Maybe they would just toss you back overboard.
Lifeboat. Lifeboat. Where’s the-
Off to the side, you spot the familiar pulley system that tells of a boat docked to the side of a ship. It's small enough that you should be able to outmaneuver them even if they are hot on your trail. For half a second, hope flares in your chest for just a moment before another shout calls out.
“They’re out here!”
Your heart drops as a man steps in your path. Boots thunder behind you. Voices overlap in a flurry of confusion and chaos. You veer left, sprinting past stacked crates and coiled ropes, mind racing.
A shape lunges into your path, larger and burly with a pair of sunglasses and a mean snarl.
“Gotcha!”
You barely stop in time, skidding between his legs just a fraction of a moment before they snap shut like a steel trap. It's pure instinct that's driving you now as you run. With your previous escape plan cut off you pivot, racing to come up with something new. Not the easiest task as you duck around bodies that seemed to come from everywhere.
The stairs to the upper deck loom ahead, free from obstacles. Not ideal, but maybe still enough to give you time to think of a new plan.
You take them two at a time even as your legs protest, still sore from the cramped space you had just been freed of, the taste of freedom already on your lips only to jolt to a halt as a figure appears on the top step. His cloak billows in the wind, red hair blazing in the light of the setting sun and making it appear as if he’s on fire. His face shows no concern at your sudden appearance. If anything, he seems relaxed. Almost amused even as the grin of a predator greets you.
He stands blocking your escape like he’s been waiting there the whole time. His eyes quickly survey your stance, taking you in from head to toe and lingering on the cuffs that still hold your hands together, identifying you as being wanted by someone and likely with a price to be paid for your delivery. An easy cashin.
“Well now,” he says cheerfully. “You’re fast.”
Your stomach twists in dread at the aura around him. You can be reckless, sure, but you're not stupid. Everything about him screams danger, your body refusing to get an inch closer.
Spinning on heel you nearly trip over yourself in haste to get away only to be greeted with a blond man just four steps down. You can’t make it back the way you came up, and the way forward is now blocked.
So you jump.
You grab the banister and throw your weight sideways, sliding down it in a blur. Polished wood scrapes against your clothes as you pray to not get a massive splinter. Sparks of pain shoot through your ribs at the action but you push it away, a problem for a later you.
Hands reach for you, twisting mid-slide, barely avoiding the blonde’s grip. His fingers graze your wrist, missing by millimeters as you feel his skin brush against yours.
You hit the deck hard with a force that nearly had you blacking out from the pain, roll, and scramble back to your feet. The tumble has you dizzy and breathless yet you still move onward, calculating the quickest way to make it through the maze of bodies that have emerged on the deck. Not as many as there had been on the Marine ship but enough to still give you pause in your current state, less than optimal to fight.
Laughter. Warm, loud, and full of joy that feels out of place for the situation, erupts above the chaos. You glance up to see the red-haired man casually leaning against the banister, hips cocked out as he leans over the railing, tears in his eyes from laughing.
“Oh, I like this one,” he says, voice carrying easily over the noise. His eyes lock on to you, pinning you to the deck with his sharp gaze.
“Looks like we’ve got a rat scurrying about, men!”
You don’t hear the shot go off, only feel it hitting its target and nailing you in the shoulder, sending you careening backwards. Your mind calculates the trajectory, spotting a man up in the crows nest, still holding the smoking gun as his eyes gleam with satisfaction.
The crew roars in response as your blood spills. Cheers, whistles, and boots pounding as they spread out, forming a circle and closing in like a pack of wolves.
Your chest heaves, eyes frantically darting every which way looking for even the smallest of gaps. Your wrists ache inside the cuffs and you wonder how many you can bash with them before you're taken down. At least one surely. Maybe two if you’re lucky.
Every path is blocked. Even if you weren’t cuffed it wouldn’t look good. Each and every one of them look rough and mean with an air that would have you stepping aside to avoid them at any port.
Teeth grinding together, a low growl escapes you as you survey, looking for a weak link. It’s then that one breaks away from the group. He’s big, just as they all are. Broad shoulders and large hands that easily fit around the stock of the gun he carries. The same hands raise as if he's surrendering. Or more likely, calming a wild animal.
Dark eyes, sharp as any blade, are fixed on you, his casual stance telling how much of a threat he thinks you to be.
“Stop running.” he says, calm, almost tired. You don’t move, frozen like a hare as even the sea seems to watch the exchange.
“You’ve got nowhere to go out here.” He's not being mean. There's no malice or condescension in his voice. No arrogant bluster. Only a stark candor to his words that has your shoulders slumping under the weight as you pant.
He seems to take it as a sign of surrender as he reaches for you, and all you can imagine is them wrapping around your neck with ease, squeezing until there’s nothing left.
You don’t think. You react, planting your foot and doing a full three-sixty, driving the heel of your unshoed foot as hard as you can with a frustrated huff. The weight of the cuffs gives you a bit more momentum with their counter balance, adding just a touch of extra umph.
You kick, hard, and are rewarded with the give of flesh to bone. He may be a wall of solid muscle, but there’s one place all men are vulnerable.
There’s a split second of stunned silence.
“Hngh!”
The man stumbles back with a sharp gasp, crashing into a crate as it splinters under his weight. The rest of the group seems equally as stunned. Even the man up top watches with wide eyes, mouth agape as if he can hardly believe what he just witnessed.
“Did she just-”
You don’t wait to hear the rest, making a break for the opening left by the giant. It’s another mad dash. Not toward the sides or back below deck, but straight for the front of the ship. The only place that there’s not an obscene amount of people at.
Wind slams into you as you sprint past ropes and rigging, heart pounding so hard it hurts. The bow looms ahead, the massive carved figurehead standing like a guardian, snarling at the sea as if daring it to rise to the challenge.
A dragon. Its wooden jaws are open wide, frozen in a roar ready to devour. It likely strikes fear into the hearts of all who approach. A foreboding omen of destruction, to wreak havoc just as its flesh and blood counterparts do in the skies.
You don’t hesitate to scramble up the railing, hands slipping on smooth wood only made that much more so by the spray of water as it hits the hull, and wedge yourself into the hollow of its mouth. Your back presses against the curved interior, knees tucked tight to your chest. It’s a tight squeeze, one you can barely manage, but force your body to contort anyways.
Hidden from prying eyes, yet trapped once again all the same. You’ve managed to get away for the moment but at what cost? There was nowhere to go from here, forced to the edge of the only solid space in sight. Wood presses against bruises as you lean further back in the mouth of the carving, staring at nothing but open ocean as far as the eye can see. You recognize your safe haven for why it truly is. A dead end.
You feel sick, head pounding and stomach churning at the situation you’ve put yourself in. The waves themselves seem to taunt you, crashing against the hull and spraying a light mist across your skin before receding. If you were to fall in it would be quick to swallow you whole. If not by its own force then the undertow of the ship heading on at a respectable pace.
Boots thud closer, their vibrations traveling through the wood of the ship as they approach. There seems to be their own internal scuffle, cursing as you can hear them debating on how to get you out that doesn’t involve damaging the ship.
”You’re all overthinking this.” A voice huffs, followed by footsteps that stop just above. A shadow falls over the water from where they stand, moving against the stillness of the others.
A hand reaches down. Not as big as the other man's but it’s as callous and resolute, bent and clawed as it grabs.
“C’mon, don’t make this hard-”
Panic explodes in your chest as they brush your arm, fingers groping. No thinking. Just survival. Your hands won’t do much from where they’re gripping one of the many teeth in order to stay balanced, feet braced against the lower jaws to push you as far back as possible. Instead you lunge forward and bite as hard as you can, imagining the hand instead as a leg of meat, stomach grumbling at the thought.
Teeth sink into skin, jaw locking in the space between thumb and pointer finger. The flimsy webbing gives way easily as you bite. The man yelps, jerking back with a curse. You taste copper. Sharp, metallic, disgusting.
For half a second a stupid, distant thought flickers through your mind wondering if the man had any diseases he could pass through the liquid dripping from your lip. The thought makes your stomach twist but there's not much to do now. Not like you had very many other options.
You spit instinctively, pressing yourself farther into the dragon’s mouth, trembling.
“Dammit, they bit me!”
“Seriously? Are they feral or something?”
The rest seem to hesitate. No one wants to be the next to try. Good. You’ll take the whole hand next time.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air, drawing the attention of the group. You watch as their shadows disappear, one lingering longer than the others and leaving you in fear that they’ll try again, before slipping away.
There’s the muttering of voices far away, too distant to pick up what they're saying no matter how much you strain to hear with your one good ear, the other now flooded with your own blood as you shake your head to rid yourself of it. Your shoulder aches as well, the wound streaming with its own steady production of crimson that stains your clothes.
Too soon the steps return as you press further back. There’s only one this time it seems. One was all they would need in your current state, weakened and light headed. No grabbing hands or peaking faces. Only a deep, vaguely familiar voice.
”You’ve got nowhere to go. Come out now and Captain will show some grace.”
You snort, suspiciously something that sounds like a laugh, eliciting a sigh from the figure above. The wood whines, leading away from you and back towards the main body of the ship.
”Fine. Have it your way.”
And with that they retreat once again, leaving you alone, stuck on the front of a pirate ship and heavily bleeding, rethinking your life choices. You sit alone, staring out to the endless ocean in front of you, the faint scent of citrus clinging to your knees from where they had crushed oranges to a pulp in the barrel. Not enough to get a taste from, but enough to remind you of the burning pain in your stomach.
_____________________________
Sunlight glitters off the endless blue sea, sails full and steady, the Red Force cutting smoothly through the water. It should be a peaceful afternoon. A time for them to relax a bit before that hit rougher waters, yet true ease escapes them. Not when half the crew keeps sneaking glances toward the bow, where the massive dragon figurehead has become the most closely monitored spot on the entire ship.
Shanks leans against the railing, arm folded loosely across his chest, lazily watching the horizon. His attention occasionally flirts to the dragon’s open mouth. Beckman stands beside him, rifle resting against his shoulder, a figure of relaxation that does nothing to betray the alertness that holds him.
“Had to chew the guys out again.” Beckman mutters. “They’re gonna forget how to swab the deck at this rate.”
Shanks exhales quietly through his nose, stretching like a cat, head tilting to catch more of the sun.
“Hard to blame them.”
They both glance forward. Still no movement from the highlighted location. No shifting. No sound. Nothing but a shadow inside the carved jaws. They could almost believe that you had died if not for one detail.
Beckman adjusts his grip on the rifle, moving to light his cigarette. He takes a heavy drag, watching the end burn just a moment longer than normal.
“She tried something.”
Shanks hums, gaze drifting to where their latest addition still lay hidden. “Yeah?”
“Early morning.” Beckman says. “Slipped out just before the sun was up. Grabbed some rope that was lying around. Took spare fabric from the repair supplies.”
Shanks’ eyebrow lifts slightly.
“Resourceful.”
“Almost got away with it too.” Beckman continues. “Then Yasopp spotted her. Chased her halfway across the deck yelling like the world was ending. Woke up half the crew. Of course he didn’t manage to catch her, saying something about how he was worried about getting bit.”
“I was wondering what that was,” Shanks says, grinning. “Thought someone fell overboard.”
Beckman shakes his head, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Captain, why don’t we just force them out?”
They could wrangle you out of the space even if it would be a pain to do without some damage to the ship. Shanks turns to him, an amused twinkle in his eye that promises trouble.
“Force them out?” he repeats. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Beckman raises an eyebrow. “Fun?”
“C’mon,” Shanks says, waving his hand. “The lads already placed their bets. First time in weeks we’ve had decent entertainment. Besides, they’re not much of a threat to us.”
Then, thoughtfully, he adds with a hum.
“Well. Maybe to your future progeny.”
Beckman doesn’t even have time to respond before Shanks glances towards his waist, still sore and tender. Still very much aware of where that kick had landed.
He clicks his tongue. “Gotta admit I didn’t see that one coming.”
Beckman’s lips twitch despite himself.
True, you weren’t much of a threat. Not to seasoned pirates like them. And yet that was exactly how you’d managed to catch them off guard.
“She’s got a fire to her, that’s for sure.”
“I thought that’s how you liked them.” Shanks teases.
“Aye, but a bit less bloody. Limejuice is trying to get out of anything to do with chores. Claims the girl has rabies or something and he needs at least a week to recuperate. Hongo says he’s just being dramatic.”
Shanks straightens slowly, gaze drifting away from the bow and toward the distant horizon. The sky stretches wide and flawless. A perfect blue that no gem could ever compare to. Not a cloud in sight to cover the warmth from above as a steady breeze blows in their favor. The kind of weather sailors pray for.
He stares at it for a long moment, then speaks quietly, almost more to himself than Beckman.
“I’ve got a feeling there’s a storm coming.”
Beckman follows his gaze, studying the sky, not seeing anything wrong. But he also knows better than to doubt his captain.
The ship sails on and inside the dragon’s mouth, hidden in shadow, you keep holding out.
For now.
_________________________________
The storm doesn’t come gently. It crashes down on the ship like the sky itself is trying to break it apart, ripping and screaming as it tears at everything it can get its hands on, rocking the ship violently.
Rain lashes against the wood. Wind screams through the rigging. Waves slam into the hull so hard you’re sure at any moment it’s going to split in two. Shouts from the crew can be heard as they maneuver the waters. Lighting streaks the sky like claws threatening to tear you from hiding.
Inside the dragon’s mouth, you cling to the curved wood with numb fingers. Everything is soaked. Your clothes. Your hair. Your skin. Your thoughts. It’s all drenched to the point it stiffens, hardened by salt and wear.
Half the time, you’re choking, or more so gagging as you all but vomit what feels like buckets of saltwater. At this point you may as well be a fishman with how much water is in your lungs.
You lose track of when you’re breathing and when you’re drowning. Lose track of where you are. Who you are. If this is even real. At some point you’re pretty sure you black out. It seems there’s no end to it. There’s no way for you to keep time with what’s happening. By the time the flow slows and your stomach isn’t rolling with the ship the sun is dipping back below the horizon, providing only a few rays to recover with.
Sometime later- minutes, hours, you don’t know for sure- you slip. It’s a stupid mistake. One you would have never made at any other time. But you’re just so exhausted, fading in and out of consciousness.
Your foot slides on slick wood, grip failing as your body pitches forward. Suddenly, you’re falling.
You tumble out of the dragon’s mouth, body pitching forward into open air. The ocean rushes forward, still dark and churning, its maw open to consume you.
Your arms snap back above your head, tearing a howl from you at the pain of the sudden stop as it feels as if you’re being torn apart at the joints.
The rope. The one you’d tied around your cuffs and anchored inside the figurehead fearing you would nod off in the middle of the night and roll out of your hiding space. Good to know it had been worth the risk of your little venture.
It jerks you back violently, not an ounce of give to its material, the cuffs just as unforgiving in their hold around your hands as they tear further into the skin, grinding against bone. The fabric acts as only a slight buffer, stuffed as much as it could between your skin and the cold metal.
Your shoulders scream, wrist burning. You dangle there, just below the maw of the beast, swaying back and forth helplessly in the wind. For one horrible second you think this will be the end of you, and they’ll just leave your corpse there to rot. A new macabre decoration.
What’s even more terrifying is a part of you doesn’t care. You’re crying now, unable to tell when it even started. You cry every amount you never let yourself cry before in the weeks of your capture. Tears of months saved up now reaching a damn and breaking at facing the grim morality of your death. Not even with the Marines had you felt it so closely. But with the water nipping at your heals, broken physically and emotionally, you allowed yourself the one mercy of crying.
Then voices cut through the storm.
“Holy hell! Look at that!”
“Are you kidding me?!”
Above the lingering thunder you hear laughter. Jeers and taunts that dry your self-loathing. The smoldering embers from before burn back to life with a blazing fury, anger and bitterness fueling you in place of sorrow to drag you down further.
With a raw, broken scream, you force your body to move, feeling the muscles tear in protest as your lungs burn from tears and the salty air.
You drag yourself inch by inch back toward the opening, nails scraping uselessly against soaked wood. Vaguely you register the sound of cheering, but it’s pushed to the back of your mind. Instead you focus on the pain.
Nothing but pain.
But you make it. Gasping and clawing, with tear tracks still burning down your face, you perform the most difficult pull-up of your life, collapsing back inside the dragon’s mouth in a shaking heap, sobbing quietly as the storm rages on.
By nightfall, the sea finally calms. Enough that you no longer have to worry about falling in but now fear falling asleep so deeply you don’t realize that you do. For safety you add another knot in the rope, this one linking under the tongue of the dragon and around your waist.
Stars peek through torn clouds as the ship settles into a gentle, exhausted sway. Absent-mindedly you begin to chart them in your head, trying to get a better sense of direction. To try and make out where you may be going. It’s sad that you were never as good at it as your father. He would know what to do right now. There’s nothing you wish more than to hear him whispering pointers to you, walking through everything step by step. It’ll never happen again, but a part of you likes to hope. To dream.
Footsteps approach. Careful. Quiet.
“They still in there?”
Another voice murmurs, “Go check.”
A shadow leans into the dragon’s mouth, candlelight flickering above.
A face appears.
“Hey, uh, you alive in-”
Your foot shoots out, smashing into his face with all the remaining strength you have left.
The man yelps as he stumbles backward, arms flailing uselessly as he drops. The splash of water is followed by a beat of silence, a respectful pause, before laughter breaks out, explosive and uncontrollable.
“Did you see that?”
“She kicked him! And after being beat half to death by that storm!”
A moment later a soaked, sputtering pirate hauls himself back up the side of the ship, coughing and laughing along with his crewmates. Even he’s grinning as he takes their jeers in stride.
Beckman, watching from the shadows, exhales slowly, half amused, half amazed. His mind drifts to you in the figurehead, trying to imagine what it’s like. Bruised and broken, exhausted from your struggle yet still fighting with every bone in your body. Still surviving despite everything. As much of a ruckus as you’ve caused he can’t help but admire your grit.
That night, while everyone sleeps and the wood creaks, you fail to notice an approaching figure, too half out of it to even care, head lolling back and forth with the waves, eyes fixed on the sky above.
There’s a shift of movement that has you tensing, only to pause as a shadow is dropped down, the wind blowing it back into your hiding spot before you can react.
It's fabric. Not the soaked, freezing kind that you wear. Instead it's warm, thick, blocking the chill of the night. Despite yourself, you soon find it wrapped around your shoulders, cocooning you like a hug. Something you so desperately needed. One you would have gladly taken from your mother, bracing against the sweet perfume she insisted on using to apparently emulate a candy shop. A scent you would do anything to inhale greedily once again rather than damp wood and regret.
______________________________
No one on the ship can quite believe it. A week spent curled inside the dragon’s mouth. Seven days of salt, wind, hunger, and pain. Of stubborn, silent refusal.
By the fifth day, the crew’s betting on when you’ll come out slows.
By the sixth, they start worrying.
By the seventh, Beckman takes over.
He approaches slowly, steps loud and announcing as he walks, rifle left behind. He wasn’t worried about needing it. Last time had been pure luck and his own foolish overconfidence, and you were in no better condition at this point.
“Hey,” he calls out, standing a few feet from the figurehead.
No answer.
He takes it as an invitation, walking further out, feeling the gazes of the others on his back to which he pointedly ignores them. In his hand he carries a cinched bag, some scraps from breakfast tossed inside. He had hardly been able to stomach his own that morning after the latest mention of you from the night lookout proved no movement. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much. He had seen plenty of people die. Been the cause of many deaths. Yet the thought of yours set him on edge for a reason he couldn't quite grasp. One that he didn't want to dig any deeper into.
“I’ve got some food here for you. Don’t bite me.”
Carefully, he lowers a small bundle tied to a rope. A water skin. Dried meat and bread with just a bit of honey smear on top and toasted in the oven. He could have tossed in some dried fruit, but that would have to be an earned reward.
It swings gently in the air with the wind like bait on a rope, ready to drag in whatever bites. You don’t reach for it.
Beckman exhales through his nose as he pinched his brow. Figures.
“The Marines weren’t generous with rations,” he says calmly, voice low and steady. “I know that. You must be pretty hungry.”
Still nothing. He softens his tone to the ones he would use when tempting the alley cats in the docks they’d find themselves in. The only rational company he could find sometimes.
“You come out of there, and we’ll get you looked at. I promise our doc, Hongo, doesn’t bite.”
He pauses before adding, “Much.”
Silence. The food remains untouched, still hanging. Beckman hesitates. Then, slowly, he steps closer.
“Alright,” he mutters. “I’m gonna take a look. No sudden moves, yeah?”
He crouches carefully, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. Well, he thinks to himself, it’s not too far off.
He bends down, peering between teeth and the figurehead’s shadow just enough to see inside, prepared for claws and teeth, maybe another kick. The only upside to this position is that you can’t reach his groin, still a bit sore from your last meeting as a phantom pain runs through him.
Beckman hadn’t gotten the best look at you in your initial run through the ship, hardly standing still and the low light of the setting sun casting shadows. He had expected to find you crouched and growling, eyes wild and ready to strike, huddled into your hiding space like an animal with nowhere to go. Cuts and bruises are to be expected, a little worse for wear as you brave the elements and in your own scuffle.
What he finds is worse, eyes widening at the sight before him as his breath stutters.
The inside of the dragon’s mouth is stained dark. Old, dried blood mixing with flecks of newer crimson, smeared along the carved wood like the beast has actually swallowed you whole. Almost as if it’s been feeding on you. Your back is pressed against the curve of the carving as far back into the mouth as you can get, knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped loosely around yourself.
You look empty.
The makeshift bandage around your shoulder where Yasopp’s shot clipped you is soaked through, fabric dark and stiff with old blood. You tried to treat it yourself. Or at least the best you could in the situation.
His coat is the only thing that looks relatively unharmed, but even then a few blooms of red soak into the fabric, wounds reopening each time the ship hits a rough wave and your body adjusts with it, scabs cracking and splitting at the action.
Your cheeks are hollow, skin dry and lips cracked to the point they bleed. They’re a sickly shade of blue, standing out that much more against the skin that hadn’t looked much better the last time he saw you. Blood cakes the entire side of your face where it hasn’t been washed away and he notes a missing chunk in your upper lobe.
Your eyes lift slowly to meet his. They’re dull, ringed with dark, heavy shadows. No fire or defiance that had been there just a week ago, gazing at him in a way that had sent chills down his spine. Just exhaustion. Like every ounce of energy has been wrung out of you and what remains left to hang.
Your wrists are worse. They look raw even from where he stands, bruises lining the skin that’s not red or split open. Even with strips of fabric stuffed beneath the cuffs the metal has eaten into your skin. Dried blood cakes your hands making it look as if you’re wearing gloves of red.
You don’t move, barely even breathe as he notes the shallow rise and fall of your chest. You just look at him. And that somehow hits harder than any kick ever could. It would have been more of a comfort if he had to dodge a rouge fist, even if you had spit at him. But your mouth is dry despite the water that surrounds you, tasting of chalk and copper.
Beckman’s jaw tightens.
“Shit.”
He straightens slightly, keeping his voice low, almost a whisper.
“Hey. You’re starving.”
No denial.
“You need food,” he continues. “Water. Real rest.”
Nothing.
“You can’t stay in there.”
Your gaze flickers to the dangling bundle he holds out, then back to him. The scent of warm bread and honey has begun to leak out into the air, drawing like a siren’s call.
A part of him wonders if you could even open the drawstrings with the way your body trembles. Slowly, he opens the bag and draws out a piece of bread. You scooch further back as his hand approaches, eyes wary as he sets it down just before your feet. He leans back, pulling himself back up top and leaving you with just the food.
It’s a trap. That’s what your instincts tell you. That he’s waiting just beyond the edge ready to swipe you up at a moment's notice. But you were so hungry. Teeth marls littered the wood around you, half convinced you would be able to satiate your hunger with the meager scraps you could get from it. You only succeeded in making your mouth bleed from the splinters.
You hesitate, listening for the faintest sound of his presence, before warily snatching the morsel as hunger winning over logic. The bread is warm and soft, sticky with honey that glistens in the light, baked to a perfect golden hue. It still holds the warmth of the oven.
Your fingers tremble as you hold it. From either hunger of nerves you don’t know. For a second you just stare at it, not quite convinced it’s real. Many times before now you had imagined such food only to wake up before you could even sink your teeth in, nothing but a dream that left you hungry and wanting.
Your stomach twists painfully. It’s been so long since you’ve smelled anything like this. Had bread that was stale and needed to be sucked on just to be chewable.
You take a tiny bite. Barely more than a nibble, teeth sinking into the crust and are immediately rewarded with an explosion of flavor.
Sweet. So sweet it hurts and threatens to lock your jaw. Your eyes widen as you breathe out a shaky, broken sound. Something between a laugh and a sob as your mouth fills with saliva.
You chew slowly, each bite feeling unreal. Your hands start shaking harder so you take another bite to distract yourself. A little bigger this time.
Crumbs fall onto your lap as honey drips down your fingers. You don’t care, licking it off in desperation not to waste a single drop even if the flavor is tinged by dirt and blood, the sweetness singing on your tongue above all else.
Tears blur your vision before you even realize they’re coming, sliding down your cheeks and dripping onto the bread. You try to stop but can’t focus on both stemming their flow and eating, choosing the latter.
Above you Beckman doesn’t say a word. He simply sits letting you eat in peace. By the time you finish your fingers are sticky, lips are glossy with honey, breathing a bit more even. You stare at the empty spot in your hands, craving more so much it physically hurts, the bite doing little more than fan the fuel of hunger.
Your dignity screams at you even as your lips move. Feeling like a dog begging for scraps at the table.
“More?” you whisper, barely audible even to your own ears and coming out as more of a croak than anything, throat sore from how long it’s been since you’ve voluntarily spoken.
Even with its shaky tone Beckman is nearly knocked back when he hears it, curling around the cracks of his mind and prompting him to follow your question as if it’s a command, already reaching for it.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “There’s more.”
Slowly but surely he feeds you the rest of the contents, watching you consume them ravenously. When that’s done he passes the water skin to which you gulp down in only a few mouthfuls. Whipping your face, your eyes flick to the bag, tongue darting out to clean up the crumbs around your lips.
He notices, seizing the chance.
“I’ll give you more,” he says. “Better stuff. Warm food. Whatever you want if we have it.”
You swallow, still wary.
“No one touches you. Not unless you hit first that is.” he promises, a condition proposed for both your benefits. Thinking back, you hadn’t attacked until provoked, and he had a feeling you weren’t so quick to direct confrontation.
A long moment passes and Beckman thinks you might just curl back in on yourself and ignore him.
Then you shift. Just a little.
The cold is not forgiving, infiltrating the smallest of cracks and expanding them until they turn into something deeper and far more dangerous, destabilizing the entirety. At that moment, you feel yourself crack just a bit. Enough for your resistance to crumble. You had never truly experienced the cold before. Not like this, concocted by lashing layers of wind and water.
Your body trembles as you inch forward, movement slow and unsteady, like you’re afraid you’ll shatter if you go too fast, legs trembling as you bring them underneath you.
Beckman reaches out instinctively, pausing just before he reaches you. He leaves his hand hanging there, an open invitation.
You hesitate for just a moment, your mother’s warning ringing in your mind once again before throwing all caution to the wind. Your fingers barely manage to brush his before your legs give out, tilting forward. He catches you easily, large hand wrapping around your forearm and steadying you.
You’re light. Too light.
He frowns as there’s a bit of resistance, spotting the rope keeping you in place with knots he recognizes both the shape and quality of. With his free hand he grips the rope tied to your cuffs and waist, snapping them effortlessly. Almost like they were never there at all. A part of you almost laughs.
A week of clinging to that stupid rope and he breaks it with one hand.
Beckman shifts you carefully, brows furrowing at the way you whimper when he pulls you up, knowing there’s more injuries than what he’s seeing.
For the first time since the Marines took you, you don’t fight. Instead you simply sigh, leaning into his side as your feet touch something solid for the first time in days. The deck is anything but dry land but it's stable enough to give you the confidence to take one shaky step after another, eyes fixed firmly on the ground before you. The coat, still wrapped around your shoulders, provides you a bit more decency than the tattered fabric you wear as it drags behind you, length fitting of a much taller person.
You look up and take in his face properly for the first time.
There’s deep lines under his eyes, which are dark like a rolling storm as he stares straight ahead. Black hair is flecked with grey at the temples telling of his age, or maybe stress. The sun catches his face nicely giving him a warm glow of someone in good health. His gait is smooth and even, hardly a jostle as he helps you along, one hand on your waist and the other holding your elbow as you hobble along. He would have been tempted to pick you up if he didn’t think you would try to squirm away.
He’s warm like the sun in a way that has you seeking him out, leaning just a bit more into him. The warm rays hadn’t been able to reach you so far back in the mouth, only getting a few of the last streams as the sun hung low on the horizon. Sometime on the fourth day the cold had morphed from pain to a consuming numbness, a reflection of your inner turmoil. He feels nice even as his hand brushes your ribs in a way that has you flinching, but even as you walk you remain wary, knowing a flame can burn just as easily as warm.
Beckman walks back across the main deck, ignoring the looks of the others. Shanks stares from the second deck, a wide grin on his face.
“That’s a man Beckman.”
He only huffs, knowing Shanks would want to speak with you. Before then, you needed a bit of care to properly even think about anything else.
Nobody would describe Beckman as anything even remotely adjacent to soft, yet it's the only way to explain his actions as he walks at your pace, taking half steps. He’s a pirate. Far from a gentleman. But Shanks is right in that you are not a threat to them in your current state, and to treat you with anything but a softened touch might truly break you. His mind drifts back to the alley cats, remembering how they would fight tooth and nail against anything they perceived as a threat. You only had to learn the right approach and they would allow you to pet them.
꒰ ˙✧ ˖° 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ༘ ˚ ꒱ Being a marine your duty to serve the government would always come first. Whether that was to your friends or family you would always have a clear priority in mind. A shame that your soon to be husband disagrees with this notion.
꒰ pairings! ꒱ yandere! shanks x reader! & yandere! mihawk x reader! ( separate )
꒰ author's note! ꒱ؘ : Decided to try my hand at a darker love story and was pretty satisfied how it turned out! Originally the reader wasn't supposed to be as toxic as they are but I just couldn't help myself lowkey.
— Red-haired Shanks
Being a Vice-admiral was rough on the soul. Having to deal with paperwork, annoying criminals that only knew how to cause trouble, and of course having to handle an overbearing Yonko.
So, maybe you did bring the last one down on your head. But who could blame you? Being the apprentice of Garp the Hero meant being exposed to a wide variety of pirates of the great era. Amongst the most important were the Roger Pirates, of course. Which was probably when you first laid your eyes on the bright bundle of red hair who was staring into your soul from behind the dock. It had not been something all that interesting to you at first. Matter of fact you dismissed it as something not worth your time, and instead focused on proving your worth to your mentor.
( Many would argue that bringing a child to a fight against one of the more notorious pirate crew would be insanity. However, you would argue that you turned out pretty well all things considered and it certainly wasn’t that bad )
What you didn’t consider was that such a cold dismissal had sparked something in the future captain of the red haired pirates that you would never quite be able to extinguish.
Shanks would after this moment repeatedly seek you out much to Buggy’s chagrin. It was like watching a moth desperately chase a flame — and try to fight it?
Well, when you’re raised in a pirate ship your whole life things may become a little warped in terms of behaving normally. For Shanks who had seen Roger fight Garp his whole life and call it ‘friendly roughhousing' it wasn’t too unexpected that he would copy what he saw.
This being going after you every time he saw you to fight as a way to get your attention. It baffled you at first — as you had believed the two cabin boys did not participate much in combat. Only to have to dodge a punch to your face in a normal afternoon. But you weren’t the one to backdown from a challenge, not back then and not even now. So you gave it your all right back to the scrawny red-haired boy that always seemed eager to chase after you.
What you didn’t know was that Shanks had surprised the whole crew by going after you. Their young protege had not been someone who sought after fights. Rather he dealt with them if they came to him or to his friend. So, seeing him be so eager to run after Garp’s young apprentice had left many scratching their head in confusion.
But not their Captain. The future king of the pirates had simply stared after Shank who seemed to be almost jumping in anticipation to see you again and laughed himself silly. Afterwards, it seemed that Roger left Shanks to his own devices when Garp was nearby, and if anybody asked he would simply shrug and call it “young love”
The intensity of the so called “young love” was upped by a hundred after the execution of Roger.
A day that would be engraved in the red haired’s memory for two reasons. The death of the man who raised him, and your presence. It had been a surprise to see you wondering around in the execution — Shanks didn’t think Garp would have let you witness the gory parts but perhaps he was mistaken.
Not that he had much time to think about what Garp was doing after being rejected by his closest friend under the rain. Shanks felt the rain seep into his clothes, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. The streets seemed to be empty, and he had forgotten where exactly Buggy had run off to. He felt too numb to acknowledge the tears dripping down his face as he stared down at his hands.
Until a hand grabbed his hand and brought him into an unsure hug. You had seen Shanks take off onto the distance and worried for someone you had considered a friend you took after him. Only to find him drenched by the rain like a pathetic cat that was thrown away.
You weren’t someone usually moved by pity, but to see someone who was usually so bright and cheerful drenched in rain looked like his life had been drained away did move your heart just a little.
However, if future you could go back into the past and stop you from comforting Shanks without doubt you would have done it without hesitation.
Because this very moment would give birth to your biggest headache know to earth.
Shanks became almost obsessive with how much he had started checking on your whereabouts. Sending you parts of the treasure he would obtain with his start up crew, and talking his crew’s ears off when it came to you. What had once been an innocent, albeit persistent, puppy love had snowballed into a possessive devotion from one of the strongest pirate this new era had ever seen.
And you? Well, initially you found it amusing. It was funny to think a pirate had fallen in love with a marine whose job was to bring the guillotine down on his head. A situation that would probably make him the butt of the joke in many places.
In the back of your mind you could admit that you held some sort of affection for the pirate that you deemed pathetic. However, the bigger part of you knew that most of the indulgences you let him take was to boost your ego. Having someone like him practically begging at your feet for your attention? Who wouldn’t be flattered?
But perhaps you had forgotten that you should never feed a stray dog; they always keep coming back for more.
So, perhaps you started indulging him. Perhaps you let him into your bed to have a good time with him. But who could blame you when whimpered so pretty? Batting his eyelashes and leaving his shirt unbuttoned every time he came into your bed at night. Clinging into you and shedding tears every time he wishes to sway you into keeping him longer by your side.
But at the end of the day. You were a marine. Somebody who shouldn’t let their affairs with a nefarious pirate get in the way of their job or a good relationship with a trustworthy civilian or fellow marine officer. Which was why you didn’t assume that Shanks would take it too personally when you started seeing other people. After all, it wasn’t a serious arrangement for you so why should it be one for him?
And the one day he found you indulging a young officer who had gifted you a bouquet of flowers to ask you out. Shanks, disguised as a marine, stared down with a blank look on his face at the marine who had pink cheeks and stuttering words, and then looked at you who had an amused smirk in your face while accepting the flowers.
His hands dug so deeply into the tree he was hiding behind that it caused a hole to be blasted into it.
Rage didn’t cut what he felt after seeing this. Neither did betrayal. What he felt was more easily compared to somebody reaching inside his chest and holding his heart tight enough that it caused death from pain.
The confrontation afterwards did not do him any good either.
“Who was that you were with?” Shanks asked as he cornered you in your office while staring daggers at the flowers you held in your arms with a detached look on your face.
Walking past him you gently set your flowers down on the table and took off your coat and shrugged nonchalantly.
“A nice recruit — truly kind of him to be looking out for me don’t you think?” You asked with a low chuckle. Shanks felt his eye twitching at the sheer rage he was experiencing and grabbed your shoulder so he could look straight into your eyes and twisted you around.
“Really? That’s all you have to say? A nice recruit? He was obviously asking you out!” You had never seen him quite like this. Shanks seemed to be loosing his grip on his temper as he stared at your unbothered face who seemed to find no issues with the situation.
“So what?” You said as you attempted to shrug his hand of your shoulders and put some distance between the two of you. Only for him to dig his hand more deeply and drag you back closer to him, “What we have is nothing serious. Especially with both of our positions.”
Your words seemed to have stunned him. Something you didn’t really understand. Thinking that he may have simply having one of his possessive streaks again you placed your hands in his waist and dragged him closer until both of your hips were touching one another.
“What’s wrong Shanks? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” You asked with a lighthearted smile not noticing the way his haki seemed to be loosing control.
“Really, you’re thinking too much about this. I’ll still be seeing you, okey? But I need to start thinking about a relationship that will help me out.” The implication that this relationship that you both had was only dragging you down was not lost to him.
His hand slowly moved down until they rested on the hem of your shirt. And rested his head on your shoulders as the cogs in his head started turning.
“So that’s what you need, huh?” He muttered into your shoulders while slowly placing kisses on your neck. His hand moved down to get rid of the buttons that held your shirt together to place his hands on your chest, “Someone that’s strong?”
You chuckled and assumed this was just another conversation like the others you had before.
“Not only that. Someone that’s strong would help me in terms of reputation would be nice.” Now you were just talking about an unlikely fantasy. Getting with someone that was strong and had a good reputation? Unlikely.
That’s not what Shanks heard, though. He now knew that you would only seriously take his advances if he was strong enough that everybody would think twice before attacking him — or anybody under his protection. You let your shirt fall onto the ground, and spun both of you over so Shanks could rest against the wall while you leaned closer to him to press a kiss in his lips which he returned eagerly.
And then he smirked with a dark glint as he entangled his hands onto your hair. Already imagining a bright future for the both of you. If it included you without your white uniform then that was something that only he needed to know.
Months later his visits had started to decrease, and you had no doubts as to why. Everybody had heard about Shanks’ more active fights in the Grand Line, and the new world. Challenging pirates who had a strong standing to defeat them then taking their territory under their flag so fast it could be considered a sport. What you hadn’t expected was for Shanks to eventually clash with a Yonko and win. The marines around you were in a frenzy after hearing that there was a new Yonko, especially with the strong skills he was showcasing.
Many were expecting a bloodbath to start occurring with the new pirate having such a grand tittle.
You held no such worries. Shanks? Shanks who begged on his knees for you to let him sleep over? That Shanks?
And perhaps you had let the version of him in the bedroom and your personal life cloud your mind as to how much of a menace he could be. Which was why you hadn’t been bothered when you had been assigned to the New World.
Until you had woken up to Shanks lounging in one of the rooms’ chairs that was placed next to your bed. You startled yourself into a sitting position as you yelped. Your heart thumped in your chest as you looked at Shanks who greeted you with an easy smile and a wave of his right hand.
Ignoring your widened eyes he widened his smile and leaned forwards to be closer to you.
“It’s been a while! I’ve missed not seeing you so regularly.” He had the audacity to pout at you as if you both were old friends catching up.
You blinked rapidly at him almost sure that you could blink him away from reality.
“Shanks…? What are you doing here! If somebody catches you — “ You whispered with urgency as you yanked his shirt closer to you to shake him around. He chuckled with mirth as he let himself be yanked around. A lovesick glint in his eyes which you failed to notice became more prominent.
He gently placed his hands on top of yours, and rubbed his thumb across your hands who tightened their hold on his shirt.
“I’ve missed you.” He repeated his previous stamens as if that was enough to explain what he was doing here. In a guarded marine base that had more than just the average security.
You furrowed your eyebrows with annoyance now rising in the face of his nonchalant attitude. But just as you opened your mouth to rip him a new one a loud explosion rattled your bedroom and left you in a flight or fight mode.
You snapped your neck back to Shanks who sighed with annoyance and muttered, “Really, those guys don’t know how to take it easy.”
His tone resembled a child whining over spilled ice cream and you couldn’t help but look at him with an open mouth.
“I need to go!” You shouted as you attempted to run towards the door and figure out who exactly was attacking the base ( although in the back of your mind you were suspicious of who exactly was behind this ) but before you could get back a hand sneaked round your wait and dragged you back to bed.
You snapped your head back to shout at Shanks only for him to also move on the bed along with you and sit on top of your hips to keep you immobile.
“Shanks! Just what do you think you’re doing?! The base is —“ Just as you were about to attempt to leave again he placed one of his hands over your mouth to silence you and smiled down at you. For the first time since you’ve met him you couldn’t help but think that it looked quite sinister with the moonlight shinning down on him.
“Don’t be silly.” He tutted with the grace of someone chastising their pet for misbehaving.
“I’m the one who called this attack!” Shanks stated with closed eyes as his smile widened. He pressed down more harshly onto you as you attempted to get rid of his constricting hold.
“After all, you were the one to tell me you need someone strong right? Who better to do that than a Yonko.”
‘Was this man nuts?’ You thought as you stared back at him. Who could your words have been twisted into this?
However what you didn’t quite understand was why your limbs were becoming more sluggish. It was as if an invisible weight was pressing down on you. Your hands were they were attempting to push Shanks away only for them to loose their strength and become more of a light touch than an actual attempt to escape.
“Don’t worry, I understand this may be new to you but I think it’s time we both move forwards with our relationship.” Shanks stated as he let his hand fall away from your mouth and instead move to pet and caress your hair.
“But I already did what you wanted you know?” He whispered at a lower volume like a secret between the two of you, “I think it’s time we both do what I want.”
— Mihawk Dracule
You were one of the top contestants for the open position of CP0. A marine who specializes in covert operations and gathering of information. It truly was your speciality.
But perhaps your own strength dragged you too close to the sun. The reason for this? Your most recent target had been Dracule Mihawk, and your part of the mission had gone exceptionally well. Everybody’s else part? Not so well.
A rising swordsman who had been terrorizing anybody who he deemed a ‘worthy’ swordsman was more of a pain than your marine higher ups realized. This man was know was Dracule Mihawk and he seemed determined who challenge anybody who he deemed challenge worthy. However, he didn’t seem to show any mercy onto anybody who got on his way either. Which was why seven marine warships had been lost to his ire. This swordsman seemed to challenge anybody who crossed his path that was strong indiscriminately. Whether it was marine, revolutionary, or even a bounty hunter.
And it had become a problem faster than anybody expected. Which was why you were dispatched. Before making another reckless decision your boss decided that gathering information regarding the man’s weakness would be beneficial for the marines. Going as far as to offer you a promotion if this mission went well.
With eagerness you accepted and started planning how to make contact with your target.
Thankfully for you there was an edge you had over other agents that would make it more likely for Mihawk to approach you.
Your swordsman skills.
You certainly weren’t worthy enough to be put in the level of an admiral but your skills are regarded as one of the best in the marines.
Which was why you decided to take a simple route of approach and challenge him to a duel. Although you doubted you could defeat him without serious injuries, a duel would be easier to control rather than a battle to the death.
And it was a success.
This man had accepted your duel and won just like you expected. However he seemed quite eager for a rematch. Claiming that you could better than that. The fact that he realized that you were holding back was a suprised, but not an unwelcome one. As you twisted it into your favor to keep yourself closer to him for a while longer.
“Ah! I recently got into a little spat with some pirates so I’m not in my best shape.” You mentioned offhandedly noticing how his eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the idea of his opponent not being in their top shape when fighting him.
“Could I buy you dinner as an apology?” This was supposed to make you look a little pathetic and not much of a threat. After all, what type of person invites their opponent for a drink after loosing a fight? However, you had not expected for him to actually ponder it silently then nod in acknowledgment.
As he sheathed his sword you were left a little out of your depth as you realized that this man who had started to become feared across the four seas had accepted to eat dinner with you. It was almost enough to make you smile in victory. Almost.
So, that was how your afternoon went. You invited Mihawk to a nice restaurant in town to eat alongside you. Although, you hated to admit it this was more enjoyable than you had realized. You expected a man who would boast of his accomplishments to his opponents to boost his own ego. Instead, you met a man who was surprisingly thoughtful and not that bad of a company.
A shame he wasn’t a marine. You would have loved to take him out on an actual date. But duty calls so instead of lamenting your losses you upped your own act to make it obvious in what sense you were interested in him.
A light touch on his upper arm, a laugh that was just a little too eager, and your body resting just a little too into his personal space to be a coincidence. At the end of the night you had given him your Den den mushi number with the clear expectation of making this a reoccurring event.
However, just as a precaution you mentioned offhandedly that in a couple of days you would be in your top shape and you wouldn’t mind a second round.
Under the moonlight at night, your vision must have failed you because you could almost fool yourself into believing you had seen a ghost of a smile in his face. But in the next second after you blinked it was as if nothing had occurred so you shook it off.
While Mihawk went back to his boat looking a little more at ease you went back to a private room to report your findings to your superiors. And your positive progress of the mission. Depending on the information you brought throughout the mission was what the end goal would be. Whether that was ambushing the swordsman or recruiting him was none of your business. As long as you committed your mission correctly you did not care for anything else.
And just like you expected a couple of days later you received a call from the infamous swordsman. Who demanded your presence like a king did for his jester.
“Demanding aren’t we?” You teased as if you both were old friends. A smile on your face as you waved at the outlaw in front of you who seemed to be waiting under a palm tree with his arms crossed.
Once he saw you he grunted in acknowledgment and rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct you or make you stop your teasing behavior.
“You’re late.” He stated as he raised an eyebrow before turning his back on you to start walking towards the field both of you would be clashing at.
You chuckled good heartedly and followed him while making idle chat. Taking any comment he didn’t ignore as encouragement that progress was being made.
‘And this is the cold-hearted swordsman everybody fears?’ You thought with a secretive smile as you stared at his side profile. Deciding not to mention that he had purposely arrived earlier at the meeting spot.
This back and forth continued occurring. A spar between the two of you would occur and then you would spout an outlandish excuse as to why you both needed to clash again, and he would accept it. Of course these would always end with you dragging him somewhere to visit or eat at. It was almost baffling to you with how much he let you get away with. Taking him by the hand like you both were lovers, buying him clothes for him to wear, and even demanding him to help you get better with the sword.
Eventually it would all reach a new level when the weather became harsh enough that your spoken worries of sickness would sway him enough to stay at a hotel with you over night. One that just so happened to only have one room left with one bed.
And perhaps you let your hand trailed long enough to imply something, your smile may have become more seductive, and your words took a more suggestive tone to them. Enough so that once you both got to the room he didn’t stop you when your hand trailed to the back of his neck. Or when your lips touched his throat in a slow manner, and perhaps he was also looking forwards to this with the speed in which he let his clothes fall onto the ground.
You took him by the hand and lead him to the only bed that was present in the room. Slowly pushing him down until you were straddling him and intertwined your hands together to place them in your waist. Taking note of the soft pink hue that appeared on his cheeks you leaned closer until your mouth was next to the shell of his ear.
“I’ve been looking towards this for a while you know?” You mentioned like you were commenting on the weather and not about having your way with him.
Mihawk grunted and shifted his hips to be closer to yours and muttered in a tone that if you didn’t know any better would call bashful, “I’m aware.”
You chuckled and started trailing kisses down his throat.
“And you just let me? Were you that eager to see me chasing after you?” You muttered in a low volume with the intent of teasing him. Keeping a keen eye on the way he momentarily looked away and cleared his throat with some fluster.
“It’s okay — I quite liked it.” You whispered like it was a secret between the two of you nobody was allowed to know. And just for this night you let yourself think you both were lovers that were simply taking the next step in your relationship and that you weren’t on a mission to ruin him by the marines.
What you weren’t aware of was that Mihawk was by far a hesitant man. Taking more drastic measures with those who started getting in the way of your time together. Marines who he would usually just gravelly injure started getting killed, and pirates that gave him too long of a glance while looking to fight would get beaten down without time to showcase their skills. Something that he previously avoided doing to savor the clash between swords. He had almost become a mad dog since meeting you.
Which was all that the marines needed to know to believe that he couldn’t be reasoned with and should instead be put down before he became a bigger issue.
This was the order that you received a week after you spent your first night with him. And like the good soldier you were you followed through. Not before giving him a last kiss on the cheek. Which he wouldn’t know would be your so called ‘goodbye’ kiss.
Your new task? Get him to go to a remote island to be ambushed by marine personnel. Of course, you wouldn’t personally fight him head on. Rather your invitation to another spar would drive him to go to this specific location where he would be ambushed and put down for good.
Your mission was deemed a success up to that point. Everybody’s else? Not so much.
You wouldn’t only be made aware of this once your personal Den den mushi started to ring in the middle of the night. Assuming it was your boss you responded like you had been programmed to do so.
“Marine officer reporting to duty—“
“Cute.” A low voice muttered through the connection device which was not your boss. This voice was one you had made cry out in pleasure and had become familiar with through the span of months. The voice that had filled you with warmth now only filled you with cold, cold dread.
“…how did you get this number?” You questioned with as much professionalism you could inject into your shaky tone. The person across the line made a ‘tsk’ sound as if he was chastising you for such a foolish comment.
“Perhaps we should ask the man who had this transporter snail.” The man who you knew as Mihawk stated with a flat tone that did wonders to hide the rage that was coursing through his veins, “However, he is incapacitated at this moment.”
He commented as if what your superior was going through was a common cold that made it difficult for him to speak and not his limbs being amputated from his body in a cruel manner that had left him in suffering for as long as possible.
“Mihawk—“ Your sentence got cut off by the swordsman who started speaking with a tone that was as sharp as his sword.
“I thought that what you needed was time.” He mentioned while making a clean slash of his sword to get rid of the blood that was now coating Yoru. Surrounding him were the leftovers of the eight warships which had attempted to take him down. Wood splattered across the floor from the slashes he made to the so called ‘impenetrable’ ships. Alongside were the bodies of hundreds of marine officers alongside two vice admirals which had underestimated just how much of a hassle it would to take this swordsman.
Mihawk started taking some steps onto the shore while efficiently avoiding the bodies that were still twitching in the ground, “I am not a fool, and I do not enjoy being made one.”
Before you could speak Mihawk continued talking and his next words would leave you petrified.
“From the start I was aware you were a marine. I am not unaware of what goes behind the close doors of the marines — I simply do not care for it.” Your mouth was left opened in disbelief at what you were hearing through the phone.
“I let you keep your charade because I knew your guilt was the only thing keeping you back from being truthful.” He muttered while slowly turning his blank face into a frown that you had never seen before aimed at you.
“I let you into my bed believing that it would be the last step you would need to give yourself completely to me.” Like a man who wasn’t used to being wrong his words seemed stilled as if they didn’t want to completely leave his mouth.
“However, this?” You didn’t have to see what he was pointing at to know what he was referring to. You closed your eyes and put your hands in your head at the absurdity of the situation. You? Feel guilty? What type of nonsense was he spouting?
“Perhaps I let your leach be too wide. I’ll make sure to certify such mistake.” You almost sputtered with indignity. You? Having a leach from the man who allowed himself to be dragged around like a well trained dog? It was ridiculous!
“So I’ll give you one warning,” You were tempted to interrupt but you felt as if you would greatly regret it in the future if you went through it, “You can hide as much as you want, but I’ll hunt you down and make those around you pay for this betrayal of yours.”
You gulped with trepidation after hearing the promise in his tone, and you were left without leg to stand on in this situation.
“Mihawk, sweetheart — can’t we talk this out? I know this looks bad, but surely this is too much for this type of situation.” You were grasping straws and you knew it. There was no way you could turn this in your favor. The mission had completely failed and Mihawk now had a personal vendetta against you and possibly the marines.
“Is that it?”, He asked with an entertained tone of voice you doubted was completely without anger, “Perhaps I should teach you a thing or two about begging for forgiveness. Do not fret I’ll make sure to be throughout once I find you.”
Those were his last words before he hung up on you. Leaving you with tremors in the hand that you had be holding your Den den mushi with. It was as if his presence had filled your room for a moment. A finality on his words that let you know he would make sure they were made a reality. You couldn’t even comfort yourself with the promotion you were going to get. Having a sinking feeling in your gut that this was far from over.
And you were unfortunately right.
Mihawk made himself notorious for the marines. Making sure to hunt down anybody that wore the white uniform and efficiently taking care of them albeit cruel enough to leave many begging for mercy.
There was no place in the four seas that was safe from his wrath. Nobody that was not part of the mission knew what exactly the marines had done to earn his wrath.
The government had lost thousands of marines alongside millions of berries with the damage that Mihawk had cause every time he was spotted. It was bad enough that the Fleet Admiral had to get involved. Unsurprising, as he had been the one to reccomend your boss to deal with Mihawk.
His solution? Offer Mihawk Dracule a position as a warlord. A position that was denied for months until a second clase was offered. Which by that point the damage had become severe enough that he had been recently called, “The strongest swordsman in the four seas”.
So what type of clause could they offer to make him consider the offer of becoming a warlord?
You.
Even to get such a strong asset into their hands the Marines refused to completely hand over an officer to someone that was considered an outlaw.
So the solution? You would become a supervisor of the swordsman. Glorified babysitting is what some would call it. A date with the guillotine is what you would call it. Worse part of this? There was no other position you could go to while being the supervisor of a warlord. It was impossible to leave the job as he would accept nobody else and as a result resign the position. You were in a cage and you had were becoming keenly aware that it seemed to have no door.
So, you accepted your task with none of the joy that the Pirate King seemed to have at his execution. What can you say? Not everybody was excited to meet their end.
As you walked back to your office you couldn’t help but drag your feet along the way. Knowing that you would get one week before having to meet with Mihawk, the bane of your existence.
You opened the door and closed it with the speed of someone who had the devil on their toes. Which wouldn’t be too far when you consider the situation you found yourself in.
However just as you did that your chair spun around to reveal Mihawk. Who was calmly nursing a glass of wine ( your wine ) and sitting down with the grace of someone who belonged there.
For a second you stared at each other in silence. Before you attempted to sprint back out from your office only to stop last minute as Mihawk’s words reached your ears.
“Take a step out of that door and only you and I will be left alive by the end of today.” He stated with the calmness of someone who knew that there was nobody in this building who could truly pose a challenge to him. The admirals were nowhere near and neither was the fleet admirals. Those who were in this building were of less ranking than a vice admiral. You were truly trapped.
“Mihawk…” You muttered with apprehension as you saw the sword that was resting on his lap.
“It’s been a while hasn’t it, beloved?” He stated with a small quirk of his lip. You had no doubt that he was finding sadistic amusement from this. Before you could answer he continued as if you had responded.
“I am a man of my word at the end of the day so I thought I should start your lessons early.” Your body shuddered at the implications of his anger being directed at you, “So, how about you start your apologies by getting on your knees?”
Although he worded the sentence as a question it was the furthest it could be from it.
And you were keenly aware you would never get away from this man unless he killed you first.
✨Questioning my existence✨ @vvyeislazzy - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
