one piece lvr grl

𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴇxɪꜱᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀᴛɪꜱꜰʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀɴɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏʟ𓆝𓆟𓆞𓆝𓆟

Luffy 𖤓ˎˊ˗

ｒｅｖｉｖａｌ

ｏｖｅｒｓｌｅｐｔ

ａ ｋｉｓｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒａｉｎ

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Sanji ✩⊹ ₊ ݁.

ａ ｋｉｓｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒａｉｎ

ｃｉｇａｒｅｔｔｅｓ

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Zoro જ⁀➴

ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅｓ

ｂｅｇ ｆｏｒ ｍｅ

ｇｏｏｄｂｙｅ

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Figarland Shamrock ♰ ༻

ｍｙ　ｄａｒｌｉｎｇ

ａ ｋｉｓｓ ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒａｉｎ

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Shanks ➽─❥

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Pairing: Shanks x Reader

Ergo, Shanks has it bad for this particular bartender.

TW: Drowning themes mentioned

Part 1 ao3 link Part 3/?

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⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

It was peaceful, so peaceful.

There was nothing comparable to the weightless, freeing sensation that accompanied you in your numbness. Caressing waves cuddled your skin, eased your aching muscles; they lovingly kissed every scratch, bump, and bruise on your body, like a mother would to console her crying child. Within this darkness, there was nothing to see. Nothing to hear. No pain. And most of all, nothing to fear.

Like the stars suspended in space, you floated, free from the fleeting emotions that life bestows on those blessed with its gift. For all intents and purposes, you may as well have been a babe curled up in the womb… 

…But you weren’t, were you?

Because when you tried to take a breath, simply to breathe a sigh of relief, the cruelty of reality choked you as a rush of seawater permeated every branch and airway within your lungs. Your unconscious body thrashed slightly, a futile and pitiful response. This was the deceitful allure of the ocean’s siren song; a lullaby, the false promise of a mother’s embrace meant to assimilate one into an eternal sleep.

The stars suddenly seemed so far away now. 

With an exasperated, exaggerated inhale, you awoke with a sudden jolt. Trembling, you brought your hands reflexively to your neck, as if you were trying to remove some invisible noose as you racked with a violent coughing fit. Your reaction would have been fitting, had you actually been coughing up seawater. 

No, you weren’t drowning in the ocean, though it ebbed peacefully a stone’s throw away from your window. Instead, you were buried under fleece blankets, slightly sweaty and dizzy from disorientation. Ah, it was a dream. A bad nap was a much more welcome alternative to the finality of sleeping at the bottom of the sea. 

You crawled out from your comfortable fortress and careened towards your open window, both appreciating the breeze on your flushed skin and the captivating view of the port down below. Ships of varying sizes and styles, all charismatically individual, littered the harbor; from your vantage point, they appeared like toys you could reach out and pick up in one hand. Recognition fired off in your brain at the sight of some of the vessels–Oh, so that group will probably be at the bar today, that one as well… 

Disappointment nagged at the base of your skull when you realized that one ship still hadn’t made its way back to the harbor. Disappointment writhed in deeper parts of your psyche as well, since you weren’t particularly proud of yourself for checking to see if The Red Force had returned… Well, every day. You hadn’t blinked when the Red-Haired Pirates didn’t show for a week, two weeks, even at the three week mark. After that, you began to wonder.

The rational part of you knew that pirates come and go, yet you just couldn’t override the irrational part of you that wondered where they went. They’d been a group of familiar faces, and you knew better than to get accustomed to a transient population. Well, there wasn’t really any emotional attachment you had to any of the crew members. However, begrudgingly (and you wouldn’t admit this to yourself), you did want to see the captain of the Red Force again.

“Good,” you spoke aloud to yourself, lying, “Another night where I don’t have to feel him staring at me.”  Humming in satisfaction (denial), you stepped away to freshen up and make your way to your job. Wash up, fix your hair, spritz some perfume, tie the corset.

Pushing the extent of your physical and emotional capabilities, you soaked in the stillness of the setting sun, the quiet hum of the town, enjoying the moment as much as you could in preparation for the hectic night that was sure to be ahead of you. The walk was tranquil, and the calm soothed you. 

You needed that mindfulness episode, because as soon as you entered those tantalizing, tacky walls, you may as well have just walked into the first circle of Hell. The cooks were bellowing profanities at each other, threatening one another with wooden spoons, only to be met with cast iron pans. Sauce was slung, and prides were stung. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Manny,” you lamented to your friend–and current boss. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”

“Yet you keep comin’ back here every day,” he replied, “You thrive in the chaos, don’t deny it. And besides,” Manny turned to look at you as he unlocked the front doors, opening up for business. “We both know you’re waiting for someone.” 

“We? We? Don’t put that on me, I’m a free woman.” Polishing glasses, you huffed. “And I’d like to keep it that way, or I’ll be damned.” 

Manny smiled knowingly in response. “Sure. Keep staring at that door then, maybe unicorns and fairies will pop through.” 

All you could muster was a half-assed glare. If you entertained the conversation any further, you’d have to confront the fact that you had been waiting for a certain face to walk through that door, the same way you’d been staring at the ships outside of your window. And you, thank you very much, were a woman who was above such frivolity and pining. 

Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from stealing glances at the door every time it swung open. As the night went on, you settled into your usual rhythm; pour a drink, wipe down tables, brush off attempts at flirting, rinse and repeat. Manny’s evaluation was correct, that you thrived in this chaos, and you found enjoyment this particular night while eavesdropping on other’s conversations. They did what? With who? Oh, the nosy woman inside you was absolutely being fed, and she was hanging on to every nitty-gritty detail of the scandals being thrown around tonight. 

In fact, she was so absorbed into her meal, so engrossed into her internal auto-pilot, that the groaning cree-aak of the front door opening didn’t register–paying no mind to the footsteps, the voices, anything outside of the conversation about the romantic feud between two rival pirate captains. What could you say? Deep down, extremely deep, you were something of a romantic yourself. 

A particular elusive man finally appeared in the flesh, the discreet Captain Shanks, who almost tip-toed while he approached the bar. He took a seat, away from his crew, and they went for the first open table they managed to spot. “Give the man his space,” they whispered animatedly among each other. “He’s had that distracted look in his eye for weeks now.” 

Shanks leaned against the counter, cheeks contracting upwards as a smile spread across his face like butter. He’d been anxious to come back, not enjoying the sensation of there being unfinished business, and unanswered questions. Some part of him was insatiable, and he accepted that a long time ago. For a few minutes, he shamelessly watched you work, enamored with how engrossed you were in your inner world. The swish of your hips as you swayed to the music. The curve of your neck as you adjusted your hair. 

You’d almost passed by him as you grabbed a bottle from a shelf on the wall across from him. The peripherals of your vision caught him as you spun back around, and you damn near dropped the bottle in disbelief. 

There was that pirate you’d been waiting for, with a stupidly satisfied expression on his face. “Hey, doll. Did ‘ya miss me?” Shanks teased, pleased with your surprise. Your heart beat sped up, the rush of conflicting emotions fighting wars in your stomach. 

“I–Um. Welcome back,” you stammered out, feeling very much overwhelmed from his red-eyed gaze being on you once more. “...What can I get you?” 

Shanks breathed out a sound of admission. “Ah, is that how it is? Straight to business, huh?” He tilted his head, still happy to see you. “My usual, if you remember it. I know it’s been a while.” Shanks saw you take one distinct deep breath, chest rising. “Of course, just give me a moment.” 

Honestly, you found it embarrassing how fast you were thrown off your rocker, just from one man’s presence. You found even more shame in how you lost no time on finishing your first customer’s order, so you could get Shanks his. A man of simple tastes, an easy glass of sake.

And that man had the audacity to coo at you as you handed him his drink, and he made sure his fingers brushed yours during the exchange. “So you didn’t forget all about me. You sure do know how to make a man happy.” That slight graze of his rough fingertips made your skin prickle in goosebumps–a detail that was not lost on Shanks. Fuck, you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you warned, holding your hands together and rubbing your fingers where Shanks touched you in an unconscious move. “It’s my job. Nothing special to it.” Shanks hummed as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes staying focused on you from start to finish. “And you have a way of putting a man in his place,” he stated, “Though I’m glad you’re using my words against me and not one of your daggers.” 

“Keep it up, and you’ll end up with the latter.”

A chuckle. “Not one for polite conversation, are you?”

“Your version of ‘polite conversation’ is rather suggestive, isn’t it?”

Shanks leaned his head back, barking out another laugh while tapping his fingers against his cup. “You think so? Well, as long as it keeps your attention on me, then I’m exactly where I want to be.”

You began to glare at him, but with no real animosity behind your eyes. “Is this your attempt to charm me, to get me to open up?” Shanks just smirked at your response, leaning in as close as he could with the bar in the way. “Now, that depends… is it working?”

This cheeky bastard. Mimicking his motion, you leaned in as well, faces just inches apart. Shanks noted the vanilla perfume you were wearing, and his gaze dropped to your lips for longer than necessary. A sense of satisfaction washed over you when his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He clenched his jaw, flexing as he swallowed, before meeting your gaze once more. A sweet smile on your lips, you whispered one breathy word to him: “No.” 

You stood up, walking away with an arrogant pep in your step. “I missed you too!” Shanks exclaimed, laughing to himself, his own heart pounding. He ran his hand through his messy hair, coming back to planet earth. “You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?” 

Outwardly, you went about your business as if you hadn’t heard a word from him. It was an entirely different manner internally, because fuck, he really was interested, wasn’t he? What were you to do with that information?

…Would it even be worth it to entertain him? To flirt whenever that rolling stone came into town? How far would it go after flirting? A night spent together? And what then? Feeling a ridiculous amount of anxiety, you began biting the inside of your cheek, and you got yourself a cup of cold water.

What would it do to you if you became involved with an emperor of the sea? Would you even be involved enough for repercussions to hit you? “You’re overthinking this,” you muttered to yourself. “Don’t let it get anywhere, then you won’t have anything to overthink.”  

Unfortunately for you, Shanks was watching the whole meltdown, even if you were out of sight. How lucky he felt to live in a world with Observation Haki, because he sure was a nosy bastard too. Sure, he couldn’t look inside of your pretty little head–much to his dismay–but he could see your body language, how you got all worked up, your breathing patterns, how you bit your cheek. She’s got cracks, he mused internally. That wall of hers has cracks in it, and I’m going to break it all down. 

Shanks got up, moving to regroup with his crew with a pep in his step as well. “Back so soon?” Beckmann teased, “You’re not striking out, are you?” 

“All these weeks you’ve been moping, Captain.” Lucky Roux joined in the teasing, between bites of some mystery meat the size of a barrel. “She’ll come around,” Shanks corrected with a confident tone in his voice. “I’m sure of it.” He turned to glance at you from afar. She’s definitely thinking about it.

The clock on the wall had scarcely been able to move its minute hand from the two to the six, before more trouble began brewing. “Breeng me anuffah!” A gray-haired man slurred, cheeks rosy as he slumped unceremoniously against his table. “Auufff your fiinnesstttt.” A burp. “Plweaaaze.” 

“Gerry,” you approached the man tentatively, with as much caution as if he were a famished predator salivating over his next prospect. “I think you’ve had enough now, yeah?”

“Noooonsense!” The man–Gerry—smacked his hand on the table’s surface, very much akin to a toddler’s tantrum. “I’mmm a paying *hic* cusstmer!” The poor guy wasn’t even holding his head up properly; it was tilted so far to the side it looked unnatural, as if his neck was broken. 

“We do this every week, Gerry,” you pleaded, trying to soothe the tantrum where it was before it blew out of proportion. How gentle you were being with this man, compared to how you treated other unruly patrons. “Why don’t you go home and–”

“NO!” In true toddler tantrum fashion, Gerry stood and threw the whole table over, hands balled in fists at his side. Glasses smashed as they floor, tiny pieces scattering at your feet. Ugh, what a headache. “What wr…RIWGHT do YOUU have to tell me–”

Your gentle composure didn’t falter, not even for a second. There wasn’t a shred of anger in you; instead, your eyes softened. With a snap of your fingers, and from Gerry’s shadow cast on the floor, a pitch-black humanoid thing took shape. “Time for you to go, old man.” The shadow grabbed the old man by the elbow, and began dragging him out of the bar. The geezer went swinging, cussing, and kicking, and by the time Gerry was at the front door, he broke down into hysteric, drunken guffaws. “Juussst as feisty as you were, when I pulled you fr’m the wat’r, all thosseyearsago.” 

“Goodbye, old man.” You sighed, and the shadow shut the door in the old man’s face before dissipating into nothingness.

Shanks and his crew witnessed everything in uncharacteristic silence. The gears in Shanks’s head began to turn. Pulled you from the water? Considering that Shanks was mildly desperate to know anything about who you were, a sense of giddiness panged through each avenue in his body. He felt elated. He was a dog, with a bone dangling in front of him. And that meant it was time to start chasing again. Shanks thought of the shadow-man; just what was the extent of your devil fruit powers?

Perhaps the crew could use something like that, on their ship. Shanks was nothing if not an opportunist.

The red-head wasted not one moment rising to his feet so he could tread over to you. The tables in the bar were solid wood, and generously wide in circumference, which made them rather heavy; so thus, there you were, trying to push it back on its side. “Need a hand?”

Side-eyeing him, your vision lingered on his shoulders–specifically on how his cloak covered them completely, concealing the fact that he only had one arm. “It doesn’t seem like you have hands to spare.” 

His brows shot up in shock, and he licked his lips before letting out a hearty chuckle. “Oh, she jokes with me now, does she? How the tables turn.” Shanks’s voice was low, dark, and betrayed nothing on exactly how amused he was.

In contrast, your brows furrowed, and you groaned at his awful joke. “How the tables–? Gods, you’re terrible.” The childlike happiness in his expression as he assisted you in getting the table upright was almost cute, the glee he was experiencing inside unable to be contained or masked. There’s a crack, he thought, triumphantly.

Shanks sighed dramatically, wiping fake sweat from his brow before patting the top of the table with two solid bump bumps. “Worth it. But, I guess I can keep the puns at bay, it seems like you’re dealing with enough… heavy lifting, tonight.” 

At that, you barked out with laughter, hiding the unwitting smile that graced your face behind your hand as you rubbed your temples. “You really are terrible.”

The tinkling of your happiness, and that grin on your face, sent Shanks into a borderline euphoric state. He gazed at you, eyes half-lidded, feeling rather proud of himself. More cracks. “The worst, some might say.” 

When you turned to go find a broom and dustpan, Shanks went back into lost puppy mode, trailing behind you, embarrassingly eager for a man of his stature. “So… What did that man mean, saying he pulled you from the water?” In response, you hissed out an agitated noise. “You really are persistent, aren’t you?”

“I’m terrible, remember? The worst of the worst.” Shanks smiled, so sweetly at you, and it caused your heart to twist. “Humor me, doll.”

He could see the mental back and forth argument you were having with yourself, as you swept up the broken glass. “When I was a girl,” the words dragged out of you, and you prayed internally that you weren’t going to regret opening up to him. “I, um. There was a shipwreck, and I washed up close to shore, and Gerry–the old man–he, he found me clinging to some driftwood, I guess.” 

You held the rod of the broom close to your chest, and your gaze remained focused on the floor as you recalled the event. “I don’t–well, nobody knows what happened to that ship, or who it belonged to or anything. And I couldn’t remember a damn thing when I woke up.” Something sad swirled behind your reminiscent eyes. “Still don’t. I don’t have any memories from before that moment.”

Shanks listened with intention, stepping infinitesimally closer to you. His voice, once confident and flirty, came out with more reverence this time. “So you’re a fighter, and a survivor too, then. I can admire that.” You scratched your nose, still avoiding eye contact with him. “And your devil fruit powers? Where did those come from?” 

“...I don’t know. I woke up with them, after the shipwreck. I don’t… remember eating a devil fruit, or how I even came to get one, anything before waking up on the old man’s ship is just blank.”

Shanks scratched his chin, humming softly, before reaching out to move a stray hair out of your face. He was pushing boundaries right now, and you hadn’t cursed his name yet, so he felt encouraged to delve further into the mystery that was this barmaid, standing in front of him, so strong, so pretty. You stiffened at the touch, eyes finally snapping back up to reach his gaze; perhaps you should’ve hit his hand away, yelled at him, yet you found yourself feeling warm from this little intimate interaction.

“A child, waking up with devil fruit powers, and no knowledge of where she came from.” He spoke in a hushed tone, mostly muttering to himself as his mind raced with possibilities. Could you have come from another pirate crew, one that lost a battle? Were you from a monarchy? This beautiful, enticing woman had to have brushed up against some group with power, for her to have received a devil fruit as a child. A stowaway that got into something she shouldn’t have, perhaps?

“Have you ever thought of setting sail to find any truths about your past?” His question was genuine, honest. A sigh left you, and you bit your bottom lip. “You’re asking me too many questions, now.” 

Shanks clicked his tongue, and he reached out once more to fix your hair. Nothing needed fixing, but you weren’t aware of that, and the urge to touch you was irresistible. “Perhaps you came from a pirate crew yourself. Maybe you’re a kingdom’s long lost princess. Why, you could be anything and everything, doll.”

A scoff. “I’m not a doll.”

“Oh?” Shanks leaned forward, his eyes traveling teasingly slow down your face. He focused on your cheeks, nose, lips and chin–he moved down to trace your jaw with his eyes, down to your collarbones. With the same audacity as before, his gaze even went down as far as the swell of your breasts, peeking out from the white lace shirt you were wearing. One blink, and his gaze met yours. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

Heat exploded in what felt like a volcanic eruption in your chest, warmth extending from the flesh he just ogled, up to your cheeks, reaching around to your ears. How flushed and flustered he just made you. Damn him. “Manny!” You shouted out, tumbling backwards from the pirate in front of you. “I’m going on break!” 

Said pirate chuckled at your hasty exit, excited by your reaction in more ways than one. He was going to learn everything about you.   ⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

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Pairing: Shanks x Reader

Ergo, Shanks has it bad for this particular bartender.

TW: Violence depicted, fluff and smut to come >3<

Part 2 ao3 link Part 3/?

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⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

If you weren’t acclimated to the chaos, you’d be miserably overstimulated right now. 

The dim overhead lights twinkled, illuminating the wooden floors and walls of the bar below, dark oak that creaked from age. The walls had ears, of course, but if they could speak? They would laugh with raucous rumbles while reciting the stories of rambunctious free-roamers; explorers, voyagers, pirates. Oh, the skirmishes and tales of adventures the walls have bared witness to. 

Men—and a good number of women—cackled while clinking their cups together, throwing insults, jabs, and the occasional knife at each other. What a strange camaraderie pirates had. Violence was never off of the table. Really, the only unspoken rule was that as long as there was still a table intact to return to… well, anything was fair game. Every man for himself, this was the world that pirates lived in. And therein lies you, in the midst of a maelstrom of elevated voices and poor life decisions, the ever-humble barmaid. 

And you had some exemplary company to attend to tonight. 

“Another round!” Slamming down his glass with a strong thud against a solid mahogany table, a man called out, his demeanor tipsy and jolly. His lop-sided smile stretched from ear to ear, and his posture was relaxed with satisfaction written on his face. His eyes crinkled merrily. Despite being surrounded by dangerous company, he was calm, tranquil, living contently in the present moment. Red-Haired Shanks, an emperor of the sea; the most prolific man in the room, yet his presence was as casual and expected as the sun to rise every morning. 

“I’ll be right with you!” Your voice twinkled above the roar of the crowd. Shanks’s gaze met yours for a quick, fleeting moment before you bent down to grab a tray from below. He and his crew were no strangers to this island’s fine establishment. In fact, their intermittent (yet consistent) patronage over the last few months had turned them into rather familiar faces. They tipped well. They kept their hands to themselves. Exemplary company, indeed, when the bar is in hell—literally. 

The shot glasses rang with sweet tings as you spread them out on your tray. The condensation from the liquor bottle was cool against your palm as you poured. From every corner of the business, you felt eyes watching you. Some were brief glances, others were lingering, but the only one that concerned you was the anticipatory stare of dark crimson eyes that you dared not meet. Not because you found the man they belonged to threatening or intimidating, but because the man looked at you with far too much cognizance. Curiosity. Clarity, even. It made you feel strange. How could a man that doesn’t attempt to interact or engage with you outside of polite service look at you with such intrigue?

Another enigma of a man, Benn Beckman, huffed amusedly before exhaling an ashy puff of smoke. “You’re staring.” 

Shanks’s gaze stayed focused, unmoving. “Hush,” he chided as he laid his head in his hand. “The moment I look away is the moment we end up with poison in our drink, yeah?”

Crewmates Lucky Roux and Hongo snickered. “Yeah, Captain, but it sure is something about this bar that always has you… overly cautious.” A wave of barely contained chortles electrified the crew. 

The red-head’s composure didn’t break, his easy grin didn’t falter. “But of course. Have you seen the bastards that come in and out of here?” With his body still, Shanks followed you just with the movement of his eyes as you approached the table, drinks in hand. His brows lifted slightly. “Deplorable, really.” 

“Here y’all go,” you said, placing the new shot glasses down and reaching to grab the old ones. “I’ll clear these out for you.” Shanks’s gaze didn’t stray from your face once, not even as he wrapped his long fingers around a glass that appeared somewhat dwarfed in his hand and brought it to his lips. “Thanks, doll.” 

You dared to only make eye contact with him for a beat. “My pleasure.” 

As you walked away, the click, click, click of your boots was promptly drowned out by the rowdiness and heavy shuffling of the other guests. Brown liquor burned down Shanks’s throat, and he looked away with a satisfied sigh. “See? No poison. We live to see another day, men.” 

A few chuckles escaped the crew as they tapped their cups together in a toast. “To another day!” 

On a small stage in the corner, musicians tapped their feet and fiddled beautifully with their violins, cellos, flutes, and the like. Absent-mindedly, you hummed along to the tunes, making your way back to the bar when a hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. “Damn, bitch, are you fucking deaf? I told your ass to stop.” 

You jerked your hand back, trying to shake off the man’s grip, but he tightened it in response. “What is wrong with you?” Annoyance began to blossom in your chest, rising upwards in an ominous fashion. The man sneered, standing up, the stench of alcohol and something rotten emanating off of him. “Shut your mouth, wench,” he spat, “Before I shove something else in there—“

Ah, this particular pirate was about to learn that the ever-humble barmaid of this critically acclaimed, safe five-star bar had flawless de-escalation skills. 

With a flourish, you materialized a black long dagger in your hand and thrusted it into the man’s forearm with fervor—piercing completely through his arm, cleanly between the radius and ulna bones, and you pulled down to shred more flesh. The man bellowed, releasing his hold on your wrist. Of course he couldn’t hold on anymore. You’d severed his nerves. 

From the other side of the room, Shanks watched attentively, his reaction entirely too calm considering the display acting out in front of him. Perhaps inappropriately, he laughed. “That’s one.”

But with one problem gone, another rose up. Several, rather. His crew members lit up in a fireball of fury, with two swordsmen that leapt over the table to reach you, knocking over full mugs of beer, shattering plates of food. They drew impressive silver cutlasses from their hips as they cursed you. The swipes of their weapons whistled through the air, their swings falling short as you reared back. “You‘ll die for that,” the men gnarled at you, “We’re gonna slit that throat of yours and play with your corpse!” 

Bile bubbled up to the back palates of your throat at their threats. Talk about leaving a bad taste in your mouth. You kicked one of the swordsmen square in the abdomen, sending him flying back into the table he sat at just a few seconds before. Another mysterious dagger appeared into your hand, which you promptly and expertly—one might even say professionally—threw at him, piercing the base of his throat, right at the junction of his collarbones. 

Shanks smiled, all teeth. “That’s two.” Beside him, Benn clicked his tongue. “Are you enjoying this?”

The second swordsman started roaring, voice animalistic and overflowing with vitriol. His movements became more frantic, uncontrolled. With this to your advantage, you ducked under his swings, and stuck your leg out to trip him. He fell forward, and you twirled behind him. Then, with a third magical dagger, you stabbed between his posterior ribs—piercing his lung. 

“That’s three.” Shanks’s expression was sly, and his curiosity towards you increased exponentially. 

The fourth crew member, a gunsman who had done naught but draw his weapon and stand there, looked at you with shell-shocked eyes. His crotch became damp, a stain starting small and growing at the carnage he witnessed. Britches soiled and pride vaporized, he high-tailed it out of the bar. No one cared to stop him. 

“Is that four?” Lucky Roux asked. “Mmm,” Shanks hummed in thought. “No. Well—yeah, that’s four. It counts.” 

The environment was eerily quiet as you laid your hands on your hips and shifted your weight onto one leg. You exhaled, a half-sigh, half-groan. “Manny!” 

A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged from the back area, and he sucked his teeth after seeing two dead men and one dying man, who was sobbing in hysterics while cradling his bloody arm. “God damn it, hey! Boys! We got a mess to clean!” 

(In the back of house, a cook updated a whiteboard message that said “15 days from our last accident!” to “0 days from our last accident!” The current record was 24 days.)

Within moments of your co-workers coming out to address the situation, the bar resumed its normal boisterous activities, flowing back into a cacophony. The music wound back up again, folks began laughing and gossiping, alcohol inhibiting any normal reactions one could expect from pirates. 

Blood rushed through your ears, and the high-pitched riiinnnggg muffled out your environment. Your limbs felt light—too light—as if you were nothing but a cloud floating in the sky. From afar, with his subtle use of Observation Haki, Shanks could see how blown out your pupils were; a testament of the adrenaline that had yet to dissipate in your system. He also saw the tremor of your hands. He recognized a truth about you, that you didn’t like killing.

You massaged your palms in an attempt to self-soothe and stop the shaking, but it was to no avail. The walls, the walls that as always had seen everything yet said nothing, felt as if they were closing in on you. Just a little bit closer, and they’d swallow you down into an endless abyss. 

“I’m stepping out for a sec,” you told Manny, who only waved at you in response. He knew the drill. “Just need some fresh air.” Flesh and mind still running hot, you grabbed a cup of cold water and snuck out the back door. The island’s warm winds caressed you, the air clear and crisp. A nice contrast to ease the stuffiness and claustrophobic nature of the building you were just in. The chill of the water pulled a line down to your belly, your gut, a welcome relief that grounded you.

Ahhh. Shanks hummed lowly, biting his top lip after draining yet another shot. She’s a devil fruit user, then? “Now what’d you guys tell me about being too cautious?” He grinned smugly as his men grumbled, avoiding giving their captain the satisfaction of admitting defeat. 

After waiting for what Shanks deemed an appropriate amount of time, Shanks rose from his seat, movements unhurried. “Benn, keep an eye on these drunk bastards for me, yeah?” Benn nodded and chuckled, knowingly. “So he finally makes his move. Whatever you want, Captain.”

The crew cupped their hands like megaphones and shouted their best encouragements to their captain as he weaved his way through the maze of crowded bar tables and jam packed criminals.

“Knock her dead!”

“Don’t lay on the charm too thick now, Captain!”

The sudden creaking groan of the back door’s rusty hinges made you flinch. Unconsciously, you tightened your grip on your glass, ready to smash it against the head of whatever fool came out —

Tufts of merlot-shaded hair poked out first, then the ever-so-slightly wrinkled fabric of a black cloak next. Then, you saw the cheeky smirk of Red-Haired Shanks. 

Fuck, you screamed internally. I do not need this right now. 

“You know, I like this place for the booze and the music, but never did I expect it to come with entertainment like that.” He spoke slowly, as he languidly leaned against the outside wall, positioning himself next to you. “Quite a performance from you. Where’d you learn to take down scary men like that?”

You eyed Shanks warily, feeling tension all throughout the stiffness of your body posture—physically in your shoulders, emotionally just above your navel. “Why do you want to know?”

He looked down at you, his half-lidded eyes not hiding the twinkle in them. “C’mon, indulge me. I’m a curious man.”

“You’re a dangerous man,” you replied, hand moving to rest on your hip. “So? That’s every person behind that wall, doll,” he retorted, smile growing wider. “I’m just a drop in the ocean that is the Grand Line.”

You choked on your water, almost snorting from the ridiculousness of his words. “A drop? An emperor of the sea, a drop in the ocean? Your flag flies over—I don’t even know how many territories you have.” 

Shanks just chuckled, not giving up his humble approach. “Well, couldn’t one say this corner of the world is a territory of your own?” He shuffled just an inch closer to you. “You defend it well.”

You turned away, nibbling at your bottom lip. Shanks’s line of vision faltered to your mouth for just a second.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” you remarked. “It’s kill or be killed here, and I’ve never… I’ve never been off of this island, I don’t know anything different.” 

Shanks hummed. “So what you’re telling me is that you grew up stabbing people, that’s what made you so good at it? What a scary woman.” His tone was teasing, playful. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” 

You rolled your head to the side. “Practice makes perfect, right?” 

The red-head tilted his head in response, nodding. “Tell me. How did someone with strength like that end up bartending?”

Shaking your head, you brushed past him to reach the door. The earthy smell of his cologne didn’t miss you, neither did the warmth of his clothes as your shoulder slightly bumped his side. “Look, I have to get back to work, and I’m not one to open up about my personal life.”

“Aw, c’mon, doll,” Shanks drawled in a baritone chord from behind you as he followed your lead back inside.

“You’re the most interesting thing in this port.” 

Don’t tell me that, you complained internally. I don’t care how good that sounds…

Inside, the crowd had thinned slightly, stumbling men sliding over each other as they paid their tabs and strode out the door, abuzz from drink and conversation. The scene from earlier had been cleaned up with a swiftness—no trace of the evening’s bloodshed. “This interesting thing needs to get ready to close up,” you spoke without turning to look at the man who was damn near following you like a lost puppy. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Picking up the pace, you disappeared behind the bar counter, and then out of sight into the back of house. 

Shanks sighed, leaning against the counter for a second with the slightest of pouts on his expression. Lost puppy, indeed. Damn. But he wouldn’t wallow in misery, there’d be plenty more chances to hunt you down; as such, he sauntered back to his crew, plopping down on his stool with his standard little grin. Your dismissal only fanned the flames of his intrigue, made his urge to learn about you that much harder to ignore.

“Back so soon, Captain?” Yasopp taunted. “Are you getting rusty on us?”

“The chase is half the fun.” Shanks’s eyes glinted with mischievousness, the gears behind them turning. “Nothing worthwhile comes easy.” 

“Ain’t that right?” Benn echoed. “Well, lads, get comfortable. Seems like we’re going to be frequent visitors.” 

The crew cackled, slapping one another’s backs and smashing mugs together. They spoke over each other with quips:

“Regulars? We’re gonna be here every damn night until—“

“—I bet she’s going to end up on our ship, watch!”

“It’ll never make it that far! I raise you double!”

At last call, Shanks dropped a bag of berri on the counter with a rather generous amount in there. After opening the pouch and seeing just how generous it was, your head snapped up to look at Shanks as he strode out the door; perhaps sensing your gaze, he looked back, grinned with that handsome lop-sided smile, and shot you a wink before stepping out.

He liked those doe eyes of yours. He especially liked it when they were focused on him. 

Something stirred in your gut, a subtle sensation that you chose to push down, to delay labeling it for later. You’d deal with it the next time he came back. 

⚬──────────✧──────────⚬⚬──────────✧──────────⚬

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Pairing: Figarland Shamrock x Reader

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, husband/wife, established relationship

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“You stupid, idiotic bastard!”

Vitriol bubbled in your stomach, pushing up against your diaphragm. It dissolved upwards into your lungs, traveling through your larynx, burning your tongue as your words were spat out of your mouth. “God, I hope the earth reclaims me so I never have to see your pathetic face ever again!” 

Decorum was no longer an option. Decorum held no merit against a woman’s fury; a fury that can’t be ignited by only one strike of a match. No, no. The ire that was consuming you was a fireball that had been stoked and prodded repetitively. How much longer would you have to play the part of a patient, well-behaved woman? The mask of the all-forgiving wife? The negligence, the priority of his duty… You were far too romantic for missed promises of time spent together. Quite frankly, you were too in love for a life caged in a lonely marriage.

The stomping of your stride against the manor’s carpet felt like earthquakes. You meant what you said, you truly did wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. The heavy and crushing embrace of rock and soil would at least mean you were being held. The alternative was cold sheets and lonely nights pining for the warmth of vows that had long been lost to the past. 

Shamrock followed after you, feeling like a kicked puppy. His gait matched your own; an indignant trampling of his boots, language coming from the back of his throat like a rattlesnake's hiss. “You knew what I was when you married me,” he berated. “All of this anger, and for what? When I am called to be somewhere, I must be there.” 

You scoffed. You didn’t even bother a glance in his direction as you wrapped your cloak around yourself, busting the manor doors open with an agitated push. “But when you are here… Yes, when you’re here, you’re just a shell of a man. Empty. I have better conversations with the portraits on the walls.” The bitterness in your tone stung, and Shamrock’s brow twitched, the corners of his mouth drooping into a sulk.

“Of course, the portraits on the walls. Tell me, do they speak back to you? Read to you? Do they touch you?” 

“None of it, but it’s still more than what you do.”

The man faltered in his step as the acerbic bite of your tone caused his heart to beat with guilt. Oh, how his heart was throbbing. His brows narrowed, mouth turned up in a sneer. “Stop walking away from me.” 

A sardonic chuckle escaped you. “No.” The air outside the manor was humid, and as you fled from your husband, the thundering rain soaked you in a chill that seeped down to your bones. Honestly, you felt miserable, and a bit dramatic in the moment. Perhaps you could’ve just holed up in a different room in the manor, rather than to have charged out in the pouring rain, but that wouldn’t have satisfied your fire.

You heard the splash of puddles as Shamrock chased after you, and he was honing in fast. He grabbed your wrist, grip tight and unforgiving, as he pulled you backwards towards him. “Let me go,” you barked, “I am not a dog to be handled.” 

“No, you are not,” he retorted. “You are my wife, and I will not have you acting so foolishly in a moment of passion.” What dense words he just told you, you thought to yourself. Your eyes met his. Formidable feelings flickered behind the gazes of both husband and wife. “Foolish? It’s as if the jester is calling his reflection a clown.” 

Shamrock breathed a low, grumbling sound. His agitation was palpable. “What do you want from me, hmm?” He pulled you flush to him, peering down at you, rivulets from his hair falling onto you. “What does my wife need? Do you want my attention? My touch?” 

You said nothing, tears prickling your eyes as you became choked up in frustration. Shamrock didn’t like your silence; his fingers tangled in your wet hair, tugging on the strands to make you look up at him. “Use your words. Tell me, love.” 

“I want my husband.” You were careful to annunciate and emphasize each word. “I want him to love me without me begging for affection.” The knight’s heart throbbed painfully once again, his own indignation shattering at your vulnerability. He placed a gloved hand on your cheek, and used his thumb to wipe some moisture from your eye. “I do love you,” he whispered. “I love you even when you curse my name and run out into the rain.” 

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Pairing: Figarland Shamrock x Reader

elbaph spoilers

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A huff went past your lips, and your body slumped towards your desk, your hand supporting the weight of your head. He said he was going to be back today, you mused, first sniffing, then rubbed your eyes. You held that position for a minute; your hand covering your eyes while your stress caused pain to throb behind your eyes. 

Really, how much longer were you going to stay up waiting for him? Did you not have your own business to attend to, in his absence? Regardless of his return, there were meetings tomorrow, paperwork to be done, aristocratic gatherings you have to show face in.

Oh, how Celestial Dragons love their aristocratic convocations. If you were to show with heavy, tired eyes, you would turn into the topic of discussion for the week, sure to be slandered in quiet whispers and hushed tones. “Poor thing,” they would hiss, “So attached to that commander, and Garling is so harsh to her…” This was a fate you’d faced more than once before. 

Sighing once more, you lifted yourself from your chair and stretched your sore legs. The whine that came from the friction of the furniture sliding made you wince. It was time to retire for the night–you needed to keep your sanity intact, and the first step was sleep. The clicking of your heels down empty, soulless halls only intensified the loneliness in your chest. Mary Geoise was never a good home for you. As a younger woman, you fantasized about leaving to explore the world, free from expectations and rules. Maybe you lacked the will to make your fantasy a reality. Maybe you were just as much a slave as the unfortunate ones beneath you. 

“Good evening, ma’am.”

Your eyes glanced over to your personal servant. She bowed, holding a white envelope in her hands. “This arrived for you, ma’am.” You took the envelope from her hands, bidding her thanks and a good night. She left your quarters, and you tore the envelope open and took a letter out. You carefully unfolded it, and felt your heartbeat through your whole body. Your husband hadn’t come home as promised, but he at least wrote you.

“My Darling, 

I hope this finds you well. I have missed you in my travels. Were I not traveling for my duties as commander, I would have loved to have had you by my side. You are my peace.

Word has reached me that you are throwing yourself into your duties, albeit at the cost of your health. Please, my love, don’t forget to rest. There are others that can shoulder all of those responsibilities you are throwing onto yourself. I have sent orders to those appropriate to ease your burden. You are not to work as hard as you have been. That is not the life that I will allow for you to have. 

I often find myself dreaming of you and your touch. I dream of us tangled up in sheets, enjoying the pleasures of being man and wife. 

I will be home as soon as I am able. We are off to Elbaph for business. 

Yours truly, 

     Figarland Shamrock”

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Pairing: Zoro x Reader (Angst)

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"Zoro… Zoro, please—” 

“No.”

It felt like you were breathing in glass rather than oxygen. You struggled to take shallow breaths, the taste of iron heavy on your tongue. Death would be claiming you at any moment. 

You smiled weakly, placing a palm on Zoro’s cheek. He stared down at you with desperation in his eyes—well, in more than just his eyes. His muscles were tense as he coddled your frame against his, unable to stop his tremor. No, he wasn’t shaking from the chill of the rain pelting down upon you two, but from fear. 

Because this couldn’t be real, right? 

“You have—“ you coughed, blood splattering across Zoro’s chest. “You have to keep going. The mission’s not done yet.” The outlines and details of the swordsman’s face began to blur as your eyes lost focus. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered. 

Zoro pressed his forehead to yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. A feeling of peace began to take over your senses as the pain in your body slowly dissipated. An “I love you” lightly whistled out of your mouth as you exhaled for the last time. You felt the slightest bit of pressure against your lips, then heard a quiet, muted noise of someone screaming from far away. That too, faded into silence.

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Pairing: Zoro x Reader (NSFW)

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“Goddammit woman, why didn’t you fucking listen to me?!” 

Zoro was livid. Here was a man, towering in front of you, menacing, broad, ominously powerful—a man that has cut mountains in half—a man that just so happened to be unbelievably pissed off at you. 

“Don’t even try raising your voice at me!” You retorted back. “We would have lost everything if I didn’t make that move! Everything that the whole crew has been trying to protect would have been for nothing, Zoro! Nothing!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck,” Zoro spat, “about some cuckoo artifact that some podunk fucking scientist made.” He sneered, slowly taking steps towards you as if he were a beast waiting to pounce on its prey. 

Zoro had practically ripped your cabin door off of its hinges as soon as the Thousand Sunny had set sail again. This was only a few moments ago. Robin uncovered an artifact on the island the crew had stopped at, which just so happened to be one that was really, dreadfully needed. However, there were some… complications while leaving the island, to put it lightly. There was one particular enemy who tried to stop the crew. This nuisance had eaten a devil fruit that granted him the ability to neutralize one’s ability to fight, like a switch being flipped to the off position. He could only affect so many people at one time, and you were one of the unlucky ones to basically become a citizen in the battlefield. 

That didn’t make you take a tactical retreat, much to the chagrin of a certain swordsman. “Then what do you give a fuck about, Zoro?”

“You want to know what I give a fuck about?” Zoro breathed out in a mocking tone of voice, now standing chest to chest with you. His eyes burned into your own. “Right now, it’s teaching you a fucking lesson.” 

Zoro pushed you against the wall, and you let out a small yelp in surprise. He was still dirty from the battle, sweaty, scraped up… but you didn’t have time to think about that, because he crashed his lips onto yours with a feverish need. You yelped again, and all Zoro did was bite your bottom lip.

You felt your brain short-circuit. What was going on? 

The swordsman reached down to put his hands on the back of your thighs, and he hoisted you up in the air in one swift motion. Instinctively, you wrapped both your arms and legs around him, your back still against the wall. “Zoro, what are you—?” 

The swordman’s lips descended on your neck, and he just kept sucking and biting you. He groaned into your neck, and the combination of the low pitch of his voice, the vibration, and the warmth of his breath and mouth were all too much for you. Zoro bit your collarbone, and you gasped. He pulled away to kiss you again. “Shut up.” 

Zoro pulled away from the wall, and took a few calculated steps backwards so he could throw you on your bed. You gazed up at him, completely flushed, but you felt an ache between your thighs. He wasted no time to straddle you, trapping your legs between his, and he grabbed your wrists. “You are going to listen to me right now.” 

He growled in such a desperate way while he tied his ever-so-handy signature bandana around your wrists, and stared down at you. You were underneath him, writhing around, rubbing your thighs together for some friction and relief. You looked dirty, you looked needy, and you looked ravageable. 

Zoro got off of on top of you, and stood by the edge of the bed. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, and you gasped as he ripped through any fabric barrier between you and the air. What’s gotten into him?

He spat on your cunt, then teasingly rubbed one finger in-between your folds. You moaned and arched your back, finding it hard to handle his slow pace. He didn’t let up, though; he kept rubbing his thumb in lazy circles over your entrance, then moving up to rub lazy circles on your clit, and then back down. “Fuck, Zoro, why are you teasing me…?”

“Because you don’t know how to listen.” He watched with sadistic glee as you bucked your hips against his thumb, desperate for more stimulation. “I need you to know who’s in control.” Zoro kept staring a hole into your soul, pride swelling up in his chest as he gazed down at your swollen lips and all the marks he left on your neck. So fucking pretty.

“You want more?” He asked, barely sliding the tip of his middle finger in and out of you. “Tell me you want more. I’m not giving you anything until you beg.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to give in, but your sopping cunt was aching. You shook your head at Zoro. “No…”

He leaned over you, lips hovering just above yours, and growled at you while pulling hard on one of your nipples. “Beg.”

You cried out, grinding your hips against Zoro’s, whimpering as he continued to tug and squeeze your nipples. He grunted, grinding back against you, shuddering from the adrenaline. “Tell me what you want, and fucking beg me for it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Zoro, I need you inside me…. Please. I—please, Zoro—”

The swordsman took a second to tear his own clothes off of him. God, he was beautiful. Your eyes trailed down further and further… and God, how was he going to fit?!

Zoro smacked his dick against your cunt a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. “Say ‘please’ for me, one more time.”

“…Please.”

He pushed himself inside you in one hard thrust, giving you no time to adjust. An embarrassing squeal came out of your mouth. He was long, and he was girthy, and it felt like you were being split into two. His hand reached up to hold your tied-up ones, and he drilled into you like a man starving for water.

Sloppy, messy, wet, and god it felt so good.

Moans kept pouring out of your mouth as Zoro’s dick kissed your cervix with each thrust. He leaned his upper body onto yours, his voice dark with his own moans and grunts as he again began kissing and marking your neck. “Y’know what I give a fuck about?” He panted. “My woman. Alive.” 

“Zoro, I’m sorry—” 

Zoro changed his pace, his thrusts becoming slower and harder. Your body rocked with each one, and he put his finger in your mouth. “Ah ah ah. Show me you’re sorry. Beg for me. Beg me to make you cum on my dick.”

Your face was burning, you were swimming in pleasure, and your mind was a haze. You could smell sweat and a lingering trace of cologne, you could smell your own wetness, and all you could focus on was the growing, warm pit in your abdomen. His dick was rubbing just the right spot, but your body needed just a little bit more attention there, just a little bit more tension so you could snap—

“Fuck, please, Zoro. Please, I need you to make me cum. I need to cum on you, I’m so close, I—”

Zoro leaned back and put your ankles over his shoulders, and he began ravaging you like the beast he had been acting like earlier. It was all you could do to take it,

it was overwhelming, but his dick was curving right into that perfect spot, over, and over, and over, and over…

You cried out again, feeling the tension finally snap, and you saw white as your orgasm flooded every sense in you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” You heard Zoro moan, and he snapped his hips into yours a few more erratic times before you felt him twitch, and then you felt the strangest sensation of being full.

He stayed inside you while the two of you fought to catch a breath.

The swordsman grunted, slowly pulling out. You could feel cum spilling out of you. He laid next to you, and untied your wrists. “I can’t… I can’t protect you when you run into the fight vulnerable like that. You were supposed to go where it was safe.”

You sighed, turning onto your side to face him, and traced your finger over the scar on his chest. “’M sorry, Zoro. I was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours. 

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Pairing: Zoro x Reader

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“Nami, stop!” Running with as fast of a pace as you could manage, you chased after Nami, crying out for her to stop. She was heading straight into a trap—but why wasn’t she stopping? Why couldn’t she hear you? And God, why did your side hurt so fucking bad?

A jolt of pain caused you to fall to your knees, scraping them and your shins against the rough cobblestone road. Your hands went to your side, pressing down hard, and you looked down.

Red. There was so much red.

Tears fell from your eyes as if they were a waterfall, and you shrieked in utter agony and fear. You didn’t have the strength to stand. You didn’t have the strength to move at all. 

Barely managing to lift your head back up, you gazed on as Nami got overpowered by the devil fruit users that attacked the crew. You glanced to your right—there was Chopper, laying in a pool of his own blood, body small and misshaped. You glanced to your left—there was Franky, lying still, limbs missing. 

Dazed in shock from what was going on around you, and from the pain in your abdomen, you hardly registered when two hands fell on either side of your head. Someone was standing behind you. However, you did feel when they twisted your neck, and with a quick ‘snap,’ the pain was gone.  

Thud.

You gasped and wheezed, pushing your upper body up off the floor. Sweat was dripping down your face, and your body was soaked in it. Slowly, you managed to piece together that no, you weren’t dying in battle. You were in your cabin, you had just rolled off of your bunk, and you were in your underwear—no bloody clothes and no fatal flesh wounds. 

Your shoulders hurt from the fall, but this was much better than a nightmare.

Groaning, you began to stand up. It was hot. You were thirsty. Why did the kitchen have to be so far away? I need to ask Franky to put some mini-fridges in the rooms, you mused. 

You grabbed a robe off the hook on the wall, and wrapped yourself in it as you left your cabin quarters. It was cool outside, and it was a welcome change. You took a few deep breaths.

In… out. In… out. Someone please make my heart stop beating so fast.

“Can’t sleep?”

You squeaked in surprise, stumbling a bit while you whipped around to see Zoro. He was sitting while leaning against the main mast that led up to the crow’s nest, a slight flush on his face that was a little damp. You eyed the bottle at his side. “Yeah…” you muttered. “Are you training? This late at night?”

He just shrugged. “Can’t become the greatest swordsman if I don’t make time to train.”

“Training? With booze?”

“Mind your business. Gotta practice being battle-ready under any condition.”

You huffed, pulling your robe tighter around you while you moved to sit down beside him. Zoro silently picked up the bottle and gestured it towards you, and you chose to take it. You put the bottle to your lips, took a gulp, and groaned as the alcohol burned down your throat. “I don’t drink much.”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro mumbled as you handed him back his liquor. “Good. It’s not good for you.” A few silent moments passed while the swordsman placed his attention on your heavy eyes. He gestured towards your face, hand still holding the bottle. “You’re tired. You look like you’ve been crying.” You sighed, then placed your head on his shoulder. “Bad dreams. I’ll be alright.”

Zoro tensed up slightly, but didn’t move to get you off him. Mr. Rough-and-Gruff had a soft spot for his crew, and maybe more so for you. “I have strong friends,” you whispered. “I don’t have to worry about any of them, especially not the king of hell right here.” Zoro chuckled. “No, definitely not.”

You two stayed there, quiet, and comfortable in the moment. Neither of you remember when you two dozed off to sleep, lying against the mast.

*_______*_______*________*

Nami yawned and stretched, still shaking off her sleep as she left her quarters as the sun rose. She had to go find Robin, and Robin had been on night watch, so Nami was heading towards the crow’s nest.

What Nami was surprised to see, was you and Zoro sound asleep on the deck. Your head was still on his shoulder, and your legs were up against the side of him while his arm was around your waist. She smiled. 

Nami turned her head as she heard the door to the kitchen slam open. There, in the doorway, stood a very pissed off Sanji. Wasting no time, Nami rushed him, placing her hand against his mouth and pushing him back into the kitchen. She listened as Sanji shouted a bunch of obscenities—“Damn that mosshead! Defiling a princess! His hands shouldn’t be on such an angel! It’s a crime against humanity!....”

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Pairing: Sanji x Reader

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You hated cigarettes.

Cigarettes were stuffy and overwhelming, the scent lingered for hours, and the smoke made your lungs feel closed up. They were complete bombardments to your senses, and genuinely? You felt as if the world would be better off without them. Smoking is a bad habit, after all. Why would anyone willingly choose to give themselves lung cancer and an early grave?

The Thousand Sunny was having a lively night. Brooks was merrily serenading the crew, while each of them were on their own missions. Zoro was drinking (to death, probably, how was his liver still functioning?), Usopp was reliving the latest battle with Luffy, Franky, and Chopper (with embellishments, of course, not that his audience would be able to detect them), and Nami and Robin were sucked into their books (they were so perfect, the crew hardly deserved the gift of their presence). That just left Sanji.

Running around, fawning over “Nami-Swan,” and lighting yet another cigarette.

Yes, he was a phenomenal chef. Yes, he was doting and chivalrous. Yes, he was charismatic and consistent, and it was so hard to find a man that to actually abide by a moral code. But God, he was perverted. He was unbearable. And he reeked like menthol.

Sighing, you crossed your wrists over each other and leaned on the railing of the ship. The Grand Line was dangerous, but it was beautiful when the moonlight reflected across the water. The sights, the wind in your face, and the freedom made all the trouble worth the adventure. You were apart from the main crowd, opting for some personal space at the front of the ship. The Straw Hat crew was your family; and true to life, everyone needs their elbow room sometimes, even from the ones they love most. 

Approaching footsteps interrupted your peace. Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Sanji walking towards you. Great, you thought. He gazed at you with a slight tension in his brow. “The fish is ready. Are you going to eat?”

“In a little bit, yes,” you responded. “I just wanted some fresh air and quiet right now.” Sanji settled in, standing beside you, mimicking your pose by also leaning against the railing. “I hope you come down soon,” he spoke in a low voice. “Our princess-warrior needs her strength just like the rest of us.” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’m scared, Sanji,” you whispered, choosing to open up to him. “The world is changing. I worry about my people at home. I know there’s ample resources and military force to keep them safe, but…” you trailed off, eyes shifting from focusing and losing focusing on the sea waves. Sanji let out a hum, and pulled out a cigarette and a light. You cocked your head towards him, this time with a slight lip curl. “You just had one. Do you really have to smoke another one, right here?”

He let out a puff of smoke and a chuckle. “Mon amour, we all have ways of dealing with our stress.” 

Sanji shifted to face his body towards you, but kept one arm on the railing. “You can’t sit there and worry about your people all day and night. I see it on your face every time I look at you. It practically breaks my heart,” he paused to place his free hand on his chest. He broke out into a warm smile. “Right here and now, princess, you are safe, and they are safe too.” 

You let out a deep breath, doing your best to soak in his words. “Thank you, Sanji.” He let out another hum, put out his cigarette, and brought you in for a hug. “Of course, mon amour.”

Yes, he smelled like menthol. Yes, you had a hard time breathing. But he also smelled like cologne. He was warm, and the feeling of his breath down the side of your neck made you shiver. A thought came into your mind for a split second—what would it be like to taste the cigarette, if you were to press your lips to his own?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Luffy. Luffy, you’re joking,”

You laid your head in your hands, absolutely exasperated. It had already been a long day for you—the crew finally reached an island, yes, but it was just so dense with exuberant foliage, tree roots lifted so high from the ground that they could trip a giant, with low visibility due to the canopy up above formed from condensed trees. Everyone had split up into groups to go hunt and find food, and you were designated to be your carefree captain’s companion. Seriously, it was too much for you.

He had run rampant all day, and you were oh-so tired from chasing after him. Luffy was determined to tackle the biggest and baddest creature in the rainforest. Honestly, he was fueled by his desire for meat. Aaaaaaaall the meat that he could eat. You and your captain found one. There was just one problem. 

The beast was way, way too fucking huge to drag back through the crowded thickets back to the ship. At least, there was no way to do it and keep your sanity intact. You gazed on as Luffy leapt through the air, waving his fist in victory. Yes, his smile was adorable. No, the puppy dog effect was not going to work on you. 

“Captain, there’s no way that you and I can bring this… thing back in one piece,” you sighed. Was there really any point in trying to reason with him? “I’m a swordsman, ‘Cap. I can cut this thing up, and we can haul part of it, or rendezvous with one of the other groups and carry pieces…”

Luffy seemed to contemplate what you told him, putting his fingers to his chin and rubbing it. He flicked his eyes upward, pausing his jubilance for just a moment. He turned back towards you. “Nah, we can drag it!” 

The conversation was interrupted by a droplet of water that hit his forehead. And then another. And then a droplet hit you. The pace escalated to a downpour before either of you two could blink. A surge of rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach. You were not just tired now, but tired, soaked, and freezing. 

“Please, Captain,” you pleaded. “It’s going to be too much to drag this thing through all of this.” Luffy moved to lay his eyes on you, noticing how your body began to shiver. “You’re cold!” He emoted. He bounded over to you, and morphed to wrap his rubber arms around you like a snake would wrap around a branch. “Y’know, you’re ‘posed to get real close, for body warmth and stuff like that, when it’s cold.” 

Even though you were used to your Captain hugging you, as it was not out of the ordinary for him to hug any of the crew, a blush still started tinting your face. His signature shit-faced grin was close to yours, unmoving, and that was a lot for you to handle emotionally in that moment. Sure, Luffy was clueless. He was as dense as the forest you two were unfortunately in. But he was so caring, so loyal, and so handsome when he was this close.

The rubber man held your gaze for a few short moments. “I think we can take just part of this back,” Luffy said. “’M hungry. I wanna eat now.” You sighed in relief. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll get started on that.” 

You paused for a moment, with water dripping down your face, waiting for Luffy to unwrap himself. He did not. Instead, he kept staring you down with an intensity that was unnerving you slightly. You could spot the cogs moving around in his head, and he had a reputation for never using his head. 

And then he kissed you. 

It was just a quick peck, and you would have missed it if you blinked. His arms unraveled, and he took a step back and settled into a pose of triumph, with his hands on his hips and a smile bigger than the sky on his face. He giggled gleefully.

“Wh—whuh, what was that?!” You jittered from the shellshock, the adrenaline making you feel an immediate, overwhelming flush. Luffy just shrugged. “I felt like it. I like you.” 

When you had received the news that Sanji was to be married off to someone else, it broke you.

Nami, bless her heart, had held you for multiple nights while you cried yourself to sleep. Sanji was a flirt, but Nami knew the feelings that you had for him. You just did not want to confess those feelings, for fear of complicating the dynamics amongst the crew. You loved Sanji, but Sanji loved women, and how would the crew deal with the tension if you two ever broke it off?

Your emotions really came to a head when you got stuck in the mirror dimension with Chopper and Carrot. You were overcome with excitement when you finally had found Sanji through the mirrors, even if you could only see the back of him. You leaned forward, eager, but paused as soon as your head and shoulders made it through the portal. He was talking to a woman. Even worse, he was talking to the woman he was to be married off to the very next day. “I won’t let our marriage be hell to you too!” The stranger sobbed out. 

It felt like you had been frozen in time. There was no desire in you to hear this exchange, but you eavesdropped all the same. His fiancée rambled on, passionate and powerful. The power in her cries made you feel weak. Sanji took a step forward, bringing the woman into an embrace. “Let’s get married tomorrow.” He spoke reverently. 

Your heart shriveled up and dropped down to the depths of hell below. 

With all eagerness now dissipated, you slunk backwards from the portal and stood still in the mirror realm. This was really what he wanted. How were you going to be able to croak the words out to your captain?

*-------*-------*-------*-------*

“Give it up, Captain! Sanji is not coming back!” You wailed and fussed, desperately trying to get Luffy to comprehend what you knew. He simply sniffled in response. You two were drenched from the pouring rain, surrounded by bodies, and Luffy was leaning against a plateau with his strength sapped. He needed to eat—but Sanji was not coming, you tried to explain. He did not want to be a part of the Straw Hat pirates anymore. 

“He’s coming,” Luffy wheezed out. “I won’t eat any other food except from my cook.” The gurgling of your captain’s stomach and his stubbornness were pushing your emotions even further off the ledge. 

You hung your head and closed your eyes. Everything just felt hopeless. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made you perk up. You tensed, hand reaching for the sword at your side, as you anticipated another one of Big Mom’s pirates to come after Luffy. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes just to see…

…Sanji, holding a picnic basket. 

“I didn’t tell you to wait…” he mused. “If you can eat this, then eat.” Sanji walked past you to hand Luffy the basket, earning him a weak chuckle from the famed Straw Hat. He wasted no time to dig in, shouting proclamations of praise on the taste. 

The two men began to deliberate. Once again, you just listened quietly, your shriveled up heart beginning to throb again when Sanji explained that he indeed could not escape the wedding. He and the other Vinsmoke family members were to be slaughtered like pigs. 

“For these three reasons, I cannot return with the rest of you! Just get out of here—” Sanji was interrupted when your palm collided with his face, making a crisp thwack. Now brimming with anger, you came chest-to-chest with the soon-to-be groom and stared him down. “Arrogant bastard, tell me what you really want!” 

Sanji returned the gaze, and tears started to prick the corners of his eyes. His brows began to relax, and he was soon letting the floodgates loose. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms loosely around your legs. “I want to go back to the Sunny…!” 

You knelt to the ground as well, wrapping your arms around the chef’s larger frame. “That’s where you belong, you stupid, stupid idiot,” you whispered, moving to cup the black-leg fighter’s face in your hands. He was sopping, he was sobbing, but he was stunning. “We love you. I love you.” 

Finally, you closed the gap and kissed him. Despite the rain, Sanji was still warm. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was such a relief for it to be so peaceful at night.

The days at sea brought an ever-revolving door of chaos. Every threat the Straw Hat crew faced on the Grand Line was big—monsters from the deep as expansive as the clouds in the sky, tsunami-level tidal waves the pirates could barely tether through, hurricanes and whirlpools that spanned as far as the gods’ hands could possibly stretch. However, as it would be, big turmoil breeds bigger talent. The Straw Hat crew members carried themselves with pride, and they took each sunrise as an opportunity to grow. 

They had goals to accomplish, after all; their Captain was not yet king of the pirates, and they would see his future to fruition.

The newest addition to the sea-faring group laid quietly in the crow’s nest of the Thousand Sunny. Her body was wrought with exhaustion. There was a palpable and rather obvious difference in skill between her and the rest of the members. They were experienced. She was… inexperienced. She had not fought to overthrow dictatorships, save princesses, or taken year-long excursions to hone her craft. This is not to say that she did not have a role. No, no, she was taken on as the crew’s ambassador. She had a way, a very, very prominent sway among others with her innate ability of hypnosis. 

Captain Monkey D. Luffy had been immune to her sway. It perplexed her. She wanted to chase him, to follow him. Was this what it was like to stand with another on equal ground? Could this young man really see the true her twixt the mirage? 

Luffy had taken an instantaneous liking to her. This was, of course, after he had seen how everyone else threw themselves to the feet of the young woman. “I could use someone like you on my crew!” He had exclaimed. “Nami has been getting onto me about…. ‘Public relationships,’ and such. ‘Parently people don’t like us. Well, I don’t know care. But she’ll know what to do with ‘ya!” 

The boy might as well have thrown a bouquet of roses and a diamond ring at her, because she was smitten. “Yes, yes, I will come!” She had cried. 

The young woman shuffled her sitting position to rest her back on the rails of the nest. She had almost fallen asleep while reminiscing on her meeting of her captain. She felt as though she owed everything to him. He had given her a family. He had given her a home. Most important of all, he had given her hope. 

A smile crept up onto her face, and she gazed lovingly at the stars.

*------*-------*-------*

“Where is she?” Sanji inquired, eyeballing the untouched plate still resting on the dining table. Everyone else had eaten. “She was on night duty,” Chopper responded. “I think she fell asleep. I knew that was going to be too much! She was in tatters after yesterday’s fight!”

Luffy listened on, a pout growing on his face. He knew his newbie was struggling to adjust to the intensity of the high-stakes pirate lifestyle. As oblivious as he was by nature, it was hard to ignore the signs when his newbie had collapsed in front of him multiple times before. He’d sweep her up every time. He’d get met with a “Please, Luffy, I can get it myself,” to which he’d just give a sly grin and shake his head. “No! Chopper needs to see you!” He’d insist.

And each and every time, he rather liked the feeling of her arms around his neck. 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.

…

It was hard to hear her wails over the victory cries of Kaido’s men down below. Hell, she couldn’t even hear anything but the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears. The reality before her was utterly improbable.

Luffy was dead.

The man she loved was dead.

She shrieked, and she pounded, begging his still-warm corpse to give off any sign of life—any slight reflexive movement to give her hope. “I love you,” she pleaded. “You’re not supposed to stop here. You’re not.. Luffy, you’re going to be the king of the pirates…!” 

Her hiccups hung heavy in the air. Her grief numbed every cut, scrape, and wound on her body. The body of her captain was cradled in her arms, the stiffness and sturdiness of a warrior now completely limp and shattered. He was gone; there was no miracle cure that even the great T. Chopper could concoct to reverse death.

Where would the fight go from here?

Kaido bellowed for Momonosuke to be brought to him. Momonosuke, on the other hand, was cowering just outside of Onigashima with thoughts to surrender. The pirate captains Trafalgar D. Law and Eustass Kid were running on fumes after barely defeating Big Mom. The Straw Hat crew was taking the news about as well as the woman sobbing over Luffy’s body. The woman laid her hand over his chest, fingers tracing over his large scar, placing her palm flat. “Please, Luffy. Your fight is not over! You have not won yet!”

…

Doom dut da-da. Doom dut da-da. 

The woman’s eyes flickered up to Luffy’s face as she felt the vibrations of a strange heartbeat against her hand. A flush of desperation and excitement began swelling upwards from her abdomen. A painful, still moment passed, and then another, and then another—and then she watched with a sense of absolute relief as a smile started spreading on her captain’s face. Steam started to sizzle out of his smile, the very hairs on his head began morphing into white, cartoon-esque shapes. Finally, his eyes opened, locking onto hers. “Why are you crying?” Luffy asked. His voice was full of vitality and strength, a complete contrast to the ghostless husk he was less than a half-minute before. 

The woman collapsed onto the Straw Hat captain. She was overwhelmed with emotion, and quite frankly, she was barely holding onto her own consciousness. So they sat together, limbs tangled up, and the resurrected man giggled into her ear. “Of course I’m gonna be king of the pirates! Even though I lost… I can still stand!” 

Luffy gently but hurriedly untangled himself and rose to his feet. A flash of contemplation came over his face. “But why can I still stand? I’m having fun, for some reason…” He broke out into another smile, and then he broke out into bouts of laughter. It rang like bells through the battlefield, and he jumped and leapt and soared to his heart’s content through the air. His companion watched in reverence as her lover, whose new white figure reminded her of an angel, danced to the rhythm of his strange new heartbeat. 

“This is my peak!” Luffy exclaimed. He bounded over to his woman, swept her up in one fell swoop, and tucked her away in a safer location. From there, he wasted no time in pursuing Kaido, his rubbery body expanding to grab the dragon as if he was just a small lizard.