char

He always made it known with the Brazilian recipes he would ask Sanji to make and the music he would blast across the ship. Usually, this resulted in him forcing you to dance him with and holding your hips as his his swayed and rolled in ways that often resulted in your knees going weak and every part of you becoming tingly and sensitive (including the places where Luffy usually had his mouth on). 

He wouldn’t speak Portuguese often; only sometimes and at random moments, like when something exciting happened or when he was asleep. You would catch him mumbling words in his native tongue as he drooled on the pillow, making you giggle.

He would do it during sex too, usually when his tongue was buried deep in your pussy: “Você tem um gosto tão bom, mama. Deliciosa (You taste so good, mama. Delicious.),” he would mumble into your pussy while you whimpered and moaned.

Or when he had his cock buried deep inside of you as he hammered away at your insides, gripping and smacking your ass: “Tão bom! (So good!)” he’d moan into the bedroom. “C’mon, mama, cum with me! Goze comigo!” 

His usual high-pitched voice would get deeper and raspier in his native tongue as each foreign words rolled and flipped on his tongue. It would make you combust every single time, cumming all over his cock at the same time as him bursting inside of you. He would then peck your forehead once you snuggled up together, his hat on your head. “Te amo,” he’d whisper, never telling you what it meant, but you had a feeling. 

So after picking up on some of his lines and inflections, you decided to try out speaking his language one night. It was a boring night and Sanji was cooking, trying to get Luffy out of the kitchen as he groaned and complained about being hungry.

“Y/N, would you please come get him?” Sanji sighed. “He won’t leave and I’m not gonna have him sneaking the ingredients off of the counter to eat.” 

“I’m not gonna do that!” Luffy protested. “I told you so, Sanji!”

You had giggled and walked to the stereo sitting on the table, playing one of Luffy's favorite songs that was popular in Brazil. The captain’s head immediately shot up from the table, his big eyes staring at you. You smiled and began to sway to the music, opening your arms for him. 

With the biggest grin on his face, he shot up and went to you, immediately gathering you into his arms. You giggled as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and held your hips as he began to sway with you, your senses invaded by nothing but him. He softly sang the lyrics to you, his voice raspy and soft, each word rolling off of the tongue. He sang has if the very song was written for you and you decided now was the perfect moment. 

“Luffy?” you whispered. He pulled away to look down at you, looking like a confused puppy. You cupped his face in your hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before whispering, very low, “Te amo.” 

Once those gears in his head started turning, you’ve never seen him look so happy. His smile grew about ten sizes before he gripped you to him and coated your face in kisses. “Hey, hey!” Sanji yelled. “Not while I’m cooking! Do that outside!” 

ZORO (JAPANESE) 

Compared to Luffy, Zoro barely spoke Japanese. 

He would only mutter his native language in swears when he was stressed or angry. Other than that, you could never catch him doing it. He barely even spoke about Japan as a whole.

“Why you askin’ so many questions?” he would grumble, glaring at your curious gaze. “I haven’t been there since I was a baby. Go read up on it or somethin’.” 

But when he did speak Japanese, and that was very rare, you loved it. His voice would get even deeper when he spoke the foreign swear words during a battle and it would make your heart skip several beats. You wanted to somehow coax him to speak it more or even be closer to him than you already were. 

So you started teaching yourself Japanese. You collected as many language books as you could during your stops on islands when walking into town with Nami and Robin and began practicing. In two months, you began speaking in sentences though not professionally or fluently. However, you got each inflection down. 

The first time you said something in Japanese to Zoro, he was busy working out one hot, boring day and you had wandered in, feeling extra bratty. “What?” he demanded, grunting as he did his bench presses, his muscles bulging and glistening in sweat. 

“Just came to see if you broke up with your dumbbell yet,” you asked sarcastically. “I don’t know how the cuddling at night works, but to each its own.” 

Zoro cut his forest green eyes your way before going back to his exercises, barely pausing. “Woman, if you’re gonna come in here with that shit, leave it at the door. You know I need to focus on my training.” 

“But you’re already so strong, Zo!” you protested, padding farther into the room. “And a great fighter. You can spare one day without training.”

Though Zoro looked pleased with the praise, he still didn’t let up and continued to pump those sexy arms away at his presses. Pursing your lips, you walked over to him and kneeled down before him, just as he lifted the dumbbell up and put it back up on the rack behind his head. 

You began to run your hands up his thick, tree trunk-like thighs in his green slacks, squeezing the muscles and digging your nails deliciously into them. He liked that. He tensed immediately at your touch, breathing heavily from the workout. “Stop that,” he growled. “I’m tryin’ to cool down.” 

“Then let me help you,” you purred, sneaking your hand over his cock to give it a squeeze. You were pleased to find that he was already hard. He grunted at the contact and began to squirm under your touch. “I mean it, Y/N,” he panted. “Cut it out.” 

You looked up at him then, staring boldly into his eyes. "Watashi o tsukuru (make me)”, you said in a low, breathy voice that often made your man go absolutely insane. 

At the sound of his native language coming from your lips, the swordsman sat up straight and stared down at you, astounded and extremely aroused. His cock grew in your hand as a blush appeared on his cheeks.

“What did you say?” he questioned, his voice dangerously low. You just smiled and stood up, tearing your hand away from his cock.

“Now are you gonna spend time with me?” you questioned, a hand on your hip and arching a brow at him. 

While this didn't get him out of the training room, it did help tear him away from his workout to instead work you out, your legs spread over his bench and his cock pummeling your insides as he whispered how good you felt in Japanese.

Mission accomplished. 

SANJI (FRENCH) 

Sanji always felt proud of his ethnicity and heritage, so he always made it a point to speak his native language. 

Like Luffy, it would be at random moments. He could be cooking and would mutter to himself in French about instructions or maybe lyrics to a song.

Sometimes, he would swear if he nearly dropped a bottle of sauce or about the noise Luffy and Usopp would make outside the kitchen door. But always, when he served you and the crew, he would give you all a bright, proud smile and a “Bon appétit!”. 

And always, always, he would speak French during sex. He would whisper in your ear about how good you felt and how sweet you tasted, his words like honey in your ears.

“Je me send is bien en too, princesse, (I feel so good inside you, princess)” he’d moan into the tense, sexed-up air of your bedroom, your ankles on his broad shoulders as his cock stroked your insides. “Tellement parfait. Si belle. (So perfect. So beautiful).”

He would kiss your foot before taking one of your toes into your mouth. 

That would usually set you off like a rocket, making you cum all over the bed and his cock. And because he thought you were so pretty, he would always explode deep inside you, filling you to the brim. That’s part of why he always let his native tongue slip in the bedroom with you. 

Other than the nasty shit, he would always tell you, “Je t’aime”. When he would kiss you; before you went to bed; when you’d separate for an expedition or when when you’d go to the other side of the ship. It was only right as the love chef. “Je t’aime,” he’d say, an adoring smile on his face and hearts in his eyes. It would make you tingle and feel warm all over you. 

So you surprised him one night when he cooked dinner specifically for you before the crew even ate. “Sanji, baby, you didn’t have to make me a whole separate meal,” you giggled as you sat down in the chair he pulled out for you. “I would’ve eaten the lamb!” 

“Nonsense,” he tutted, looking sexy in his apron dusted with flour and spices. “You said you didn’t like lamb too much. And believe me, honey: fixin’ grilled fish for you is nothing compared to what these hooligans want.” He then pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “Bon appétit, my love” before hurrying back to the stove to check the yeast rolls in the oven. 

You stared down at the dinner spread on your plate: grilled fish drizzled in lemon and garlic with a side of honey-glazed, oven-roasted carrots, kus kus, and steamed broccoli. You cut a piece of the fish and put it into your mouth, humming in pleasure at the taste. You turned to Sanji, his back to you, as you gushed over the food. “This food is delicious, Sanji!” you said. "C'est trés bon! (It's very good!)” 

Sanji visibly paused before turning around to look at you, confused. Your smile grew and you lowered your fork. “Mes compliments au chef (My compliments to the chef),” you giggled. Before you could take a breath, Sanji was flying across the kitchen and planting kisses all over your face as you giggled. “Since when do you speak French, my love?” he laughed, giddy. 

“I’ve been practicing,” you hummed, playing with the color of his shirt. “I wanted to impress you.” Hearts in his eyes, Sanji pressed his forehead against yours. “And impress me, you did, mon there,” he murmured. “Now finish that food so I can hear more of my native tongue coming out of those sweet lips.” 

You did and while he had you bent over the kitchen counter while the crew ate in the other room, you repeated one word to him, over and over again, as he pummeled inside of you: “Je t’aime”. 

LAW (GERMAN) 

Law never spoke German. Or at least, not in front of you or the Hearts crew. 

“What’s the need?” he asked when you asked him to teach you something in his native tongue. “I haven’t lived there in years. Why are you so interested in my language anyway?” You would tell him you were curious, but that wouldn’t make him budge. 

You found it sad. Though he claimed he felt pride in his ethnicity and his native land, he barely mentioned his time there or taught you any phrases. So, in order to coax him into it, you fixed him a German dish. One day when the ship docked on a little island, you ran out to town to grab the ingredients for it and fixed it for him that night. It took a lot of preparation and stressing over whether or not he’d respond well to it, but that night, you sat the crew down for dinner. 

“I made something special for y’all,” you giggled, smiling secretively at Law. He scowled in confusion and suspicion at you, not sure what you were up to, until the crew took the silver covers off of their plates to reveal their meal: slices of roasted pork shoulder glazed with a cumin sauce and sitting on a bed of roasted potatoes and peppers. “Ta-da!” you shouted. “Sh-wen-braten!” 

At you mispronouncing the name, the corner of Law’s lips quirked a bit while his crew barely blinked. They were too busy drooling over and gobbling down their food. “Wow, Y/N!” Bepo growled. “This tastes amazing! I haven't tasted pork this good in so long!” 

“Thank you,” you giggled, but your attention was still all on Law as he took a bite. You stood behind his chair, nervously ringing a dish towel around your hands. “How is it?” you asked, bending down to hear him better over the chatter. 

He continued to chew and chew, leaving you in suspense, before he swallowed. “S’good,” he murmured and you sighed in relief. “Though you pronounced the dish wrong.” You made a face, pouting cutely in confusion at him. “It’s pronounced “schweinebraten,” he said, his deep voice rolling over the foreign word.

“Sch.” He paused, waiting for you to repeat it back to him. “Weine.” You parroted him, doing your best to keep from smiling out of giddiness. “Braten.” 

“Braten,” you pronounced, earning a satisfied nod before he turned back around to finish his meal. But you weren't done. you leaned down to his ear, loving how he tensed at your touch and presence. “Between you and me, I already knew how to pronounce it,” you purred. “I just wanted to hear you say it. Guten appetit (Enjoy your meal).” 

Something happened to Law in that moment hearing you speak in his language. His cock swoll in his pants and he nearly broke his fork as he sat rigid in his seat. You turned and walked away back to the stove, swaying your hips and biting back a grin as he watched, wanting to fuck you right there in front of his entire crew and make you say some very nasty words in his native tongue. 

“Law, why are all red like that?!” Jean practically yelled across the table. 

Sabo

Sabo leaned back against the wall of the ship, his arms crossed as you sat nearby, chatting with a crewmate. You could hear their voices, but they were just background noise as your mind wandered to Sabo. He caught you glancing at him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You alright?” he asked, always attuned to your moods, even without asking directly.

You nodded. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About what?” he pressed, though the tone in his voice was soft, knowing not to push too much.

“I don’t know… just feels weird sometimes, you know? Being out here… so free.”

Sabo’s smile widened. “You should be. You’re free to do whatever you want. No one can control you, not now.”

You hesitated, remembering how different things were when you’d first met him, when he’d been bound by so many rules and expectations. “I just… never knew what it felt like to have this much freedom. You know, no one telling me what to do.”

Sabo nodded, his eyes intense as he looked at you. “I get that. Growing up with people telling me what to do, who to be… I never want that for you. You get to decide who you are. I’ll always support you, no matter what path you choose.”

His voice was steady, but you could tell that there was a deep yearning in him. A yearning to see you be exactly who you were, free from the shackles that once held him back.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who encourages you to be yourself, to live freely, because he understands how hard it is to be controlled.

——

You were talking with a few other crewmates about a recent accomplishment—a small victory that felt like a huge step forward for the Revolutionary Army. As you spoke, Sabo appeared from behind, standing silently by your side.

“I’m glad to see you getting the recognition you deserve,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with pride. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight.

You smiled at him, grateful for his steady presence. “It was a team effort,” you said modestly.

“No, it was your effort,” Sabo said firmly, turning toward you with a serious expression. “I’m proud of you. You’ve come so far, and I don’t think you even realize how much you’re capable of.”

He didn’t need to say more—his tone said everything. He never bragged about his own feats, but when it came to your accomplishments, he had no problem shouting from the rooftops. He wasn’t just proud of what you’d done; he was proud of who you were.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who always praises your achievements, no matter how big or small, because he knows you deserve to be recognized.

——

You had just gotten off the phone with a friend, your voice light and upbeat. When you hung up, you turned to Sabo, who was already watching you with a fond smile.

“You really don’t hang up on me like you do with everyone else,” you commented.

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t make me want to rush it. I like hearing you talk. I like… just being there with you. Even over the phone.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You usually hang up on people as soon as they start talking about business.”

Sabo smirked. “Yeah, but with you, it’s different. I don’t mind hearing your voice. Even if you’re just rambling about something silly, it’s the best part of my day.”

There was a quiet sincerity in his words that made your heart warm. Sabo didn’t just love you because of your strengths; he loved the little things, like your voice, your thoughts, the way you saw the world.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who will never rush you off the phone, because he loves hearing you speak, no matter what you have to say.

——

You hadn’t been expecting to see Sabo for a while—he was off on a mission with the Revolutionary Army, and the last time you spoke, he had been vague about when he’d return. But one day, as you were sitting alone in your room, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps outside.

The door swung open, and there he was, looking like he hadn’t been gone for months instead of just a few weeks. His eyes scanned the room and landed on you instantly. “I knew it was you.”

You blinked. “What do you mean? I’m not wearing anything special.”

He grinned, walking in with that unmistakable swagger. “You think I can’t recognize you from a mile away? You’re wearing the same bracelet you always wear on your left wrist. I’ve memorized every little thing about you.”

You blinked again, surprised. “You really do pay attention, huh?”

“Of course I do,” he said, sitting beside you, the same soft smile playing on his lips. “How could I not? You’re my priority. Every little detail about you matters.”

It wasn’t just that he could pick out the smallest things—it was the way he made you feel so seen, so important.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the kind of guy who remembers every detail about you. Even if you’re in disguise or afar, he’ll still know it’s you, because he has memorized everything about the way you move, speak, and even what you wear.

——

No matter how tough things got, how dangerous their missions were, Sabo always made sure to smile at you in the most gentle, reassuring way. It was as if his smile alone could calm you even when the world felt chaotic.

One night, after a particularly intense argument with some of the crew over the next mission, you were walking alone on the deck, your mind spinning with frustration. You didn’t hear him approach until his shadow fell over you.

“Hey,” his voice was soft, a contrast to the loud voices that had filled the ship earlier. He stepped closer, offering you that signature, gentle smile.

“I know you’re upset,” he began, speaking with a calm confidence. “But I want you to know that you’ve got every right to be frustrated. You just have to believe that things will work out.”

You didn’t say anything, simply looking up at him, drawn to the warmth in his eyes. It was like everything else around you faded, and you were left with just his smile—soft, reassuring, and always present, no matter what.

Sabo’s hand found yours, a small gesture but one that spoke volumes. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone.”

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who offers you that gentle smile in the hardest moments, the kind of smile that reminds you that, no matter what, he’s there for you.

——

You had heard rumors that Sabo would be returning soon, but you didn’t know exactly when. So, when you walked out onto the deck one morning and saw him standing there, his familiar blue coat fluttering in the wind, your heart skipped a beat.

He turned as he heard your footsteps, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you. A soft smile spread across his face as he took a step toward you, reaching for the vivre card tucked in his pocket, something that always made you feel safe—because it wasn’t just a card. It was his promise.

“I’m home,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

You laughed, shaking your head, a rush of emotions flooding you. “You don’t even know how badly I missed you.”

Sabo’s smile didn’t fade as he stepped closer, pulling you into his arms. As he held you, you could feel the warmth of his embrace, the quiet reassurance in the way he touched you. “I missed you more than you know,” he murmured into your hair. “And you don’t have to worry, I’m always coming back to you. I keep your vivre card with me, so I know where you are, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. No matter what happens, I’ll find you. It’s not even a question.”

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief as you wrapped your arms around him. No matter how many missions took him away from you, Sabo always made sure you knew that you were his priority. The distance, the battles—it didn’t matter. As long as he had your vivre card, he would always know where you were, and he’d always come back to you.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who keeps your vivre card close to his heart, making sure that your safety is his number one priority. No matter the distance or danger, he will always go to you.

——

The evening was calm. You and Sabo found a quiet place to sit, and despite everything happening in the world, for once, everything was perfect.

He leaned back, his legs stretched out in front of him, and glanced over at you. You caught him staring and smirked. “What is it?”

His eyes softened, the playful smirk from earlier now gone. “Just thinking. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone like you.”

You gave him a side-eye. “Sabo, you don’t have to say that to be sweet.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean it. There’s no one else for me. I don’t care where this revolution takes us or what happens next—I just know that I’m not leaving you behind. You’re my future. And nothing’s going to change that.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. He was usually quiet, but when it came to matters of the heart, Sabo’s words always felt like a promise.

Sabo as a boyfriend is the one who makes a vow to stay with you, no matter the storm or the fire—the one who gives you a future in his heart.

——

Ace

“Ace,” you groaned, “why are you talking like that?”

He grinned down at you, chin propped on his hand, doing a terrible impression of a rich old noble. “My dearest, I do declare, the sun hath risen and so must we—lest the eggs be cold and the pirates be rowdy.”

You shoved a pillow in his face.

“I’m serious!” he said, muffled. “We mustn’t disappoint our crewmates, for they are in need of our stunning presence at breakfast!”

“Are you high on sea salt already?”

Ace burst out laughing, collapsing half on top of you. “Come on, that was a good one!”

You grumbled something into your pillow.

He poked your cheek. “Admit it. You smiled.”

You didn’t respond.

“You snorted. I heard it.”

“Did not.”

“I’m hilarious.”

And somehow, despite wanting sleep more than life itself, you were already laughing. Because it was impossible not to when he was like this—ridiculous and grinning and entirely too pleased with himself.

Ace as a boyfriend is the kind of idiot who performs a full comedy sketch at 6 a.m. just to hear you laugh before breakfast.

——

You were halfway through lunch when Ace stabbed the last piece of grilled fish off his plate. It was his favorite—the one Thatch made with extra spice, seared just right. He stared at it for a full second.

Then, silently, he slid it onto your plate.

You blinked. “…You’re giving that to me?”

He made a face like he was in deep spiritual agony. “Please appreciate the sacrifice.”

You snorted. “You sure?”

“No.” He shoved his chopsticks down dramatically. “But I love you, and this is how I prove it.”

“You could also say the words.”

“I just gave you my favorite food, what more do you want from me?!”

Ace as a boyfriend is the guy who eats like a wild animal—but still gives you the last bite like it’s the highest form of love. He won’t say it in big romantic speeches, but in the way he gives up his favorite things for you, you’ll always know where his heart is.

——

“So I was telling Haruta about your left hook,” Ace said, loud enough that the entire galley could hear. “Thing’s got range. Like a whole sea king’s tail!”

You groaned into your rice bowl. “Can you not brag about my punches to everyone?”

“Why not? It’s hot!”

Around you, crewmates started laughing. You heard Izo mutter, “Here he goes again,” while Jozu sighed into his drink.

Ace leaned across the table, grinning proudly. “You’re amazing. I just want people to know.”

“And if I want to lay low?”

“You started dating me. We passed ‘low-key’ like fifty ports ago.”

Ace as a boyfriend is someone who can’t shut up about you—and doesn’t want to. He’ll shout your name across the ocean if he thinks you did something cool. Even when it’s embarrassing, even when it’s loud, he’ll make sure the world knows he’s proud of you.

——

“You punched someone because they called me ‘dead weight’?!”

Ace looked totally unrepentant, knuckles scuffed and a grin spreading across his face. “They’re lucky I didn’t melt their boots to their ankles.”

“Ace, we’re not supposed to start fights over words!”

“Oh, right,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder as if nothing was wrong. “Next time, I’ll just accidentally sneeze and set their hair on fire.”

You glared at him.

“I love you,” he said simply, voice softening for just a second.

“And?”

“And no one gets to talk like that about the person who means everything to me.”

He paused, a flicker of something deeper flashing across his face. “I don’t like leaving people behind. Not when they matter. And you… you matter.” His eyes were fiery, but this time, the fire wasn’t about rage. It was about loyalty. “If someone tries to hurt you—if they try to put you down—I won’t back off. I won’t run away. You’re not alone in this, and I’m not gonna let anyone forget that.”

You tried to hold firm. You really did. But his arm tightened, heat rolling off his skin, and that stupid grin cracked your resolve right in two.

Ace as a boyfriend is the kind of man who defends your name like it’s the flag of his ship. He doesn’t just protect you—he honors you. Even your reputation is something sacred to him.

——

It was a quiet evening—rare. The sea was calm, the crew mellow, and Ace had convinced you to lie on the deck with him, watching the stars between drifting clouds.

You leaned into his chest, the slow thump of his heart grounding you.

“Y’know what I love about you?” he asked, voice surprisingly soft.

You smiled against his shirt. “My devastating charm?”

He chuckled. “That you’re just you. Doesn’t matter where you came from. Doesn’t matter who your family is or what you’ve done. You’re here. With me. That’s enough.”

You tilted your head to look up at him.

He met your eyes. No teasing. No grin. Just Ace—raw and honest.

“I’ve seen too many people judged for where they come from,” he said. “That’s never gonna be you. Not with me.”

Ace as a boyfriend is someone who loves you because of your soul, not your story. He doesn’t care who you were before, or what the world said about you—he sees who you are now.

——

That night, the sea turned colder. Not dangerous—but enough to make the whole crew bundle up. You curled tighter in your jacket, shivering despite yourself.

Then a warm hand slid into yours.

Ace tugged you close, resting your head against his chest as a soft wave of heat spilled from him—gentle, steady, safe.

He kissed the top of your head. “Better?”

“Mmm. You’re warm.”

He smirked. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You stayed like that, pressed to his heartbeat, the wind howling around you while his fire wrapped you up from the inside out.

Ace as a boyfriend is your shield against every cold night and every colder thought. When the world gets harsh, he wraps you in warmth—literal and emotional. With one touch, he melts away the chill.

——

The Moby Dick was quiet—rarest thing in the world. After a long battle and a long celebration, everyone had finally passed out. Ace had dragged you to the highest part of the deck, where the moon cut the sea into silver, and the stars looked close enough to catch.

He lay back with his arms behind his head. You curled into his side without needing to ask.

It was peaceful. And for once, Ace wasn’t running his mouth or teasing. He just watched the sky.

Then, out of nowhere, he said it. Low. Real.

“I never thought I’d get this.”

You glanced up. “Get what?”

He looked down at you like you were something sacred.

“This. You. Us. A crew that feels like home. A person who makes me want to stay.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going—like if he didn’t say it now, it might burn a hole in his chest.

“I used to think I wasn’t supposed to be here. That the world didn’t want me in it. But you…” He swallowed. “You make me feel like I matter. Like I’m me—not Roger’s kid, not a Whitebeard commander. Just Ace. Just yours.”

You didn’t speak. You just held him, fingers tangling in his hair, while his arms pulled you in like he never planned to let go.

The ocean moved quietly around you, the stars above, the fire in his chest, and that look in his eyes like he’d found his place at last.

Ace as a boyfriend is the one who finds his home in you—and makes damn sure you feel like you’ve got one in him, too.

——

Law

You were humming again.

Not a real song—just something you made up, wandering around the Polar Tang with a broom in hand, sweeping while swaying slightly to your own rhythm. It had no melody. No structure. Just something light and stupid and undeniably you.

From behind, you heard it.

A low, familiar “Tch.”

You turned, grinning. “Something to say, Captain?”

Law stood at the door to the observation room, arms crossed, expression carefully flat.

“You’re off-key.”

“Rude.”

“You’re sweeping the same spot for ten minutes.”

“Multitasking,” you said cheerfully, spinning the broom.

He exhaled slowly, as if your entire existence was testing his patience.

But he didn’t walk away.

You cocked your head. “You don’t actually hate it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say I liked it.”

“You haven’t moved.”

“…I was watching to make sure you didn’t fall on your face again.”

You grinned. “So you were watching.”

His lips twitched—barely—and he looked away, ears a little pink. “Tch.”

You stepped closer, broom tapping his foot. “You like my humming.”

He didn’t answer.

You bumped your shoulder into his. “You think it’s cute.”

He closed his eyes for a second, muttering something under his breath, then finally said, “It’s tolerable.”

You laughed. “That’s a huge compliment coming from you.”

He didn’t deny it. And when you resumed humming on your way down the hall, he stayed in the doorway a little longer—watching, listening, lips tugged in the faintest smile.

Law as a boyfriend is the kind of man who secretly enjoys the little things about you—your bad humming, your quirks, your mess. He’ll roll his eyes and pretend it’s a nuisance, but deep down, he loves it more than he’ll ever admit.

——

“You skipped breakfast.”

His voice was calm, but the sharpness in it told you this wasn’t a casual observation.

You looked up from the mess table, caught mid-bite of an energy bar. “It’s fine, I wasn’t really—”

“Hungry? That’s not the point.”

Law sat across from you, setting a small tray down in front of you—your favorite warm soup, and a few cuts of fruit you were sure he’d stolen from the kitchen himself.

“You need proper food,” he said, tapping the tray. “You haven’t been sleeping well either.”

You blinked. “Are you tracking my habits or something?”

He didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

You stared.

He stared back.

“…You’re serious.”

“I’m a doctor,” he said smoothly, then paused. “And your boyfriend. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

You lowered your gaze to the soup, feeling your face heat as you quietly picked up the spoon. You didn’t need to say thank you—he already knew. This was his version of care: watching, remembering, fixing.

Law as a boyfriend is the kind of man who will monitor your health better than any physician. He’ll prioritize your safety and well-being over anything else—even if you don’t realize you need it.

——

You were lounging in his office, legs up on the couch, half-dozing while he scribbled something at his desk. The scratching of his pen was the only sound—until it abruptly stopped.

“You know what’s insane?” Law said suddenly, eyes still on the page.

You blinked, looking up. “Hm?”

He didn’t even wait for you to answer. “That episode of Sora, Warrior of the Sea—the one where Germa 66 attacks the Vega Kingdom? Stealth Black phases through an entire wall of seastone-infused armor plating. It’s not physically possible, but they don’t explain it. Not once.”

You sat up a little, blinking. “…Wait, what?”

“And people always forget, but that was the first time Stealth Black used that mid-air cloak burst move. You can actually trace the evolution of it across three issues after that. See, the author was setting it up early, but everyone thinks it just came out of nowhere.”

He finally looked at you then—and froze.

You were just staring at him, mouth slightly open.

“What,” he said flatly, though his ears were already turning pink.

You blinked slowly. “Are you fanboying right now?”

Law narrowed his eyes. “It’s a narrative analysis.”

You grinned. “Law, you’re gushing.”

“I’m discussing the mechanics of a fictional battlefield maneuver,” he corrected, straightening his notes. “It has strategic value.”

“You just quoted a comic from memory.”

He muttered something under his breath and picked up his pen again, clearly trying to move on.

But you weren’t done.

“You like Stealth Black the most, don’t you?”

He didn’t look at you. “…No comment.”

“Is it because he’s broody and wears black?”

Still no eye contact. “Coincidence.”

“You’re blushing.”

He dropped his head into his hand with a groan. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You scooted over, nudging his arm. “No, I like this side of you. The soft, nerdy one who thinks cloaking technology is cool.”

“…It is cool.”

You laughed, and he glanced at you from under his bangs, the faintest smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

Law as a boyfriend is the kind of man who’ll accidentally let you see the dorky fanboy underneath the surgeon’s coat—and once he does, he’ll let you in on every secret obsession, because your love makes it safe to be exactly who he is.

——

Law wasn’t the type to loudly declare his feelings, nor was he one to give extravagant displays of affection. Instead, it was in the smallest gestures that you could see how much he cared. It was the way he always made sure you had a spot beside him during the quieter moments on the ship, how he’d prepare your favorite tea if you were feeling down, or how he’d bring you the rarest fruits from islands the crew visited—those little things that made all the difference.

One evening, as you sat on the deck, lost in thought, Law approached with a plate of sliced fruit.

“You’ve been distracted all day,” he remarked, handing it to you without fanfare. “Eat something. It’ll help.”

You looked up at him, taken aback by the thoughtfulness. “How did you know I was hungry?”

“I didn’t,” he said with a small smirk. “But I know you tend to forget to eat when you’re deep in thought.”

You chuckled softly and took the fruit, finding the quiet care in his actions oddly comforting. It wasn’t over-the-top, but it was his way of showing affection.

Law as a boyfriend is the kind of person who shows his love through small, practical gestures. He’s not loud about it, but every action he takes is meant to make your life a little easier, a little happier.

——

You’d seen Law in battle. You’d seen him command a crew, outwit warlords, hold his own against legends. But now, he was sitting beside you in his quarters, the lamplight warm on his skin as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

He didn’t look at you—he rarely did when he was being vulnerable—but he moved carefully, letting the fabric fall away to reveal the tattoos you’d traced only in glimpses.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “What?”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Touch them. If you want.”

It felt sacred—like he was letting you in to a place no one else got to see. You reached out, fingers brushing the inky black letters spelling out DEATH, the swirl of symbols running down his arms. Your fingers traced the contours of old scars and fresh tension.

“These aren’t just marks,” he said, eyes closed. “They’re everything I’ve survived. Everything I carry.”

You leaned in, brushing a kiss to the side of his throat. “And you let me carry them too.”

He nodded.

Law as a boyfriend is the one who lets you see every part of him—not just his body, but the weight behind the ink, the past he rarely speaks of. He trusts you enough to let you close, even to the pieces that hurt.

——

It was one of those rare quiet nights—no battle, no storm, no urgent detours. Just you and Law curled up on the couch in his quarters, a thin blanket over your legs, and a book you weren’t really reading anymore resting on your chest.

You glanced at him as he scribbled notes in the margin of a medical journal, brow furrowed, concentration absolute. Even now, with ink on his fingers and the room barely lit, he was so composed it was unfair.

“Law.”

He hummed, not looking up.

“Why do you love me?”

He paused mid-sentence.

You watched him blink once, then close the book without marking his page. When he finally looked at you, his expression wasn’t confused—it was serious, almost pained. Like the question itself tugged something loose inside his chest.

“Is that something you’re doubting?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No. I just… wondered.”

He sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was gathering his thoughts carefully.

“I don’t love you because of your strength, or because you’re clever, or kind, or good with people. All of those things are true,” he said quietly. “But if you lost them all tomorrow, I’d still feel the same.”

You felt your breath catch.

Law leaned back, watching your face like he was daring you to disagree. “I love you just because. No reason. No conditions. Just… you.”

You sat in stunned silence for a beat. Then, slowly, you reached for his hand.

He didn’t move away.

You rested your head against his shoulder, and he let out a breath, threading his fingers through yours.

Law as a boyfriend is the kind of man who doesn’t love you for what you give or do—he loves you just because. He doesn’t need a reason. You, in all your pieces, are more than enough.

——

You didn’t hear the door open at first—just the sound of his boots, slow and steady down the hall. The crew had said the mission might take days. Maybe weeks. You’d told yourself not to wait up.

But here you were anyway. Curled up on the couch in his quarters, half-asleep with a book pressed to your chest.

He stopped in the doorway, pausing like he always did when he first laid eyes on you after being gone too long.

“…I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Your head lifted immediately. “Law.”

He walked in without another word, coat sliding off his shoulders, footsteps silent. He looked exhausted—dark circles under his eyes, blood still staining the edge of his sleeve. But his gaze was only on you.

You stood. “You’re hurt.”

“Already stitched.”

“You should rest—”

“I needed to see you first.”

You blinked as he reached you. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head like he was grounding himself. Forehead to yours, breath soft against your skin.

“I thought about you every moment I was gone,” he said. “Not because I was afraid of dying. But because the thought of not coming back to you…” He trailed off, voice lower now. Rougher.

Your fingers slid into the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him, alive and whole and here.

“I don’t care how far I go,” he murmured, “how much blood I shed. I’ll always come back.”

“You promise?”

He looked at you then—really looked. Not just with his eyes, but with everything he’d never been able to say out loud until now.

“I live for you.”

——

The island was supposed to be quiet—just another checkpoint. You were out past curfew, your boots light on the sand, the stars above your only company.

Until he spoke.

“You shouldn’t be walking around here in that uniform, you know. Might give someone ideas.”

You froze, hand hovering over your sword. But the voice wasn’t threatening—just amused.

From the shadows, a man stepped forward. Black tattoo on his back. Orange hat. The moment your eyes met his golden ones, something in your chest shifted.

“Portgas D. Ace,” you said carefully.

He tilted his head. “And you are… a Vice Admiral’s brat?”

You stiffened. “Admiral. I’m his daughter.”

He let out a low whistle. “Didn’t expect Sakazuki to have a kid. You don’t have his scowl.”

Your lips twitched, despite yourself. “I get that a lot.”

He smiled then, soft and crooked. “So what’s a good little Marine doing walking alone?”

“I could ask you the same. You’re a wanted man.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “you haven’t drawn your blade.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. For some reason, looking at him didn’t feel like facing an enemy.

“I’m not here to fight.”

He looked up at the stars. “Good. Neither am I.”

That night stretched longer than you expected—two hours of talking by the water’s edge. About justice. About pirates. About fathers.

“You trying to make yours proud?” he asked, picking up a shell and tossing it into the waves.

“…Yes.”

He turned to you, serious now. “You know that’s not living, right?”

Your voice faltered. “Then what is?”

He chuckled softly, plucking up another shell. “Living is… waking up and knowing the choices you’re making are your own. Not someone else’s. Not your father’s.”

You stared down at the water. “It’s not that simple. I was raised to believe in justice. That pirates were evil. That anything less than total obedience is weakness.”

Ace didn’t laugh this time. He just nodded. “Sounds lonely.”

You blinked at him. “It is.”

“Then why keep doing it?”

You sighed, fingers curling into fists at your sides. “Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Because I thought if I could just be strong enough, obedient enough, perfect enough—maybe he’d actually look at me like I mattered. Like I wasn’t just another soldier in his fleet.”

Ace was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You matter without any of that. You shouldn’t have to bleed yourself dry just to earn scraps of love.”

The words hit too hard, too fast. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re free. You get to be who you are. You’re not being crushed under your last name.”

He tilted his head. “You think freedom means not being weighed down? I’ve spent most of my life wondering if I even deserve to exist. Carrying my father’s name like a curse I never asked for.”

You looked at him, startled. “Your father?”

Ace looked away, a shadow in his gaze. “Gol D. Roger. The Pirate King.”

You swallowed. “But that means—”

“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone thinks I should be something—good or evil, depends who you ask. But none of them care what I want. They only see what I was born from.”

You stared at him, quiet now.

Ace sat down in the sand, arms resting on his knees. “So yeah. I know a little about trying to run from your blood. Or trying to live up to something impossible. But trust me… it never works. Either way, you lose yourself.”

You sat beside him slowly, the sea breeze brushing your face. “Then what do I do?”

He turned to you gently. “Start small. What do you want? Not as a Marine. Not as Sakazuki’s daughter. Just… you.”

You hesitated, breath catching in your throat. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he said quietly. “Knowing you don’t know—that’s a hell of a start.”

You looked at him then, really looked. At the man who was supposed to be your enemy. Who was offering you more kindness in an hour than your father had in years.

“Why are you telling me all this?” you asked.

He gave a crooked smile. “Because you looked like someone who needed to hear it. And maybe… because I wish someone had said it to me when I was younger.”

You didn’t respond. You just sat there with him, watching the waves roll in.

The wind stirred your hair, the ocean licking at your boots.

“I want to see you again,” you whispered, surprising even yourself.

Ace blinked—then nodded. “Then we will. One day.”

That night, there was a pull between the two of you—something magnetic, impossible to ignore. Without a word, Ace closed the space between you, his hand finding yours, warm and calloused, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You didn’t pull away.

He kissed you then, a soft press of lips that deepened slowly as the tension between you both flared into something more. There was no rush—only the pressing need to feel alive, to be seen, to be wanted. You kissed him back, hands gently threading into his dark hair, your heart racing in a way that felt both terrifying and freeing.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, the stars above you like silent witnesses to something new and raw. Ace’s eyes were dark, but his smile was soft.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek, a promise in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, letting his words sink in.

There, under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, you found something unexpected. You weren’t sure where it would lead, or if it would survive the world that lay ahead. But for that moment, it was enough.

“I’ll see you again,” you whispered, a promise between the two of you.

He nodded, the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes. “One day.”

——

Marineford roared like a monster of steel and flame. Cannons fired. Blood painted the sea red. Above it all stood your father, barking orders with magma on his fists.

You stood with the other officers, heart numb, until your eyes found him—Ace, shackled on the execution platform, chest heaving.

You couldn’t breathe.

You hadn’t meant to fall for him. But those nights thinking about his laugh, the way he listened—like you were more than your name…

He found you too. His gaze locked with yours, even from the distance. You couldn’t tell what emotion flickered behind his eyes. Recognition? Regret?

Was this the future he’d imagined for your reunion?

——

“You seem distracted.”

Your father’s voice cut through the storm like a knife.

You stiffened. “Just focused.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lose yourself. This war is for justice. For order.”

You nodded, throat tight. He’d never ask if you were afraid. He’d only care that you stood tall.

But inside, you were already breaking.

“Father…” you tried, voice trembling. “What if there’s more to this than justice? What if—”

“SILENCE.”

His voice boomed like thunder. “There is no ‘what if.’ There is justice. There is crime. And there is fire to purge it.”

You turned away before he could see the doubt in your eyes.

——

When Luffy burst through the chaos, a part of you hoped he’d fail. Another part—the part that remembered moonlight and laughter—begged him to win.

And he did.

The chains broke. Ace stood free.

You ran before you could think.

He was there, coughing, dazed. You called his name. He turned.

“…You came.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I couldn’t let you die.”

He smiled, pain flickering across his face. “You always were too good for them.”

You touched his arm. “We have to go.”

But fate doesn’t care about love.

——

Admiral Aikanu stepped into your path —raw, unrelenting, and burning with hate. His coat billowed like smoke in the wind, and steam hissed off his molten fists. You saw the rage in his eyes before he even spoke. It was the same rage you’d grown up under, now aimed straight at the man you loved.

“Portgas D. Ace,” your father snarled. “You dare escape judgment?”

Ace instinctively pushed you behind him. “Stay back,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Don’t let him touch you.”

But you stepped forward, shoulder brushing his. “I’m not hiding, Ace. Not from him. Not anymore.”

Akainu’s eyes burned into yours. “So. You’ve chosen your side.”

His voice cracked like fire through stone.

“I chose it long before today,” you said, lifting your chin. “You just never wanted to see it.”

“You would throw away justice for him?” His voice seethed, disgust curling in his lip.

“I’m not throwing anything away,” you said. “I’m claiming what’s mine. My life. My choice.”

Akainu’s fists ignited with fury. Lava spilled from his knuckles, hissing as it hit the ground. “Then you’re no daughter of mine.”

Something broke in your chest—but it wasn’t grief. It was the last thread of fear.

Ace’s voice cut through the tension. “She was never yours to shape into a weapon.”

Akainu turned his wrath back toward him. “You speak of freedom while hiding behind her skirts?”

And then he moved.

His magma-coated fist blazed through the air toward Ace. Time slowed.

And without thinking, without hesitation—

You stepped in front of him.

——

The pain was instant. A white-hot agony tore through your side as the lava smashed into you. You felt yourself being thrown back into Ace’s arms, the world tilting, fire blooming across your vision like a dying sun.

You were weightless and heavy at once.

“No!” Ace caught you, stumbling as he dropped to his knees. His hands trembled, cradling you like you were glass already cracking. “Y/N—no. No, no, no…”

Your blood was everywhere. On his arms, on your uniform, soaking into the dirt.

Your breathing came in ragged gasps, and yet—you smiled.

“Why…?” he choked out, eyes wild and wet. “Why would you do that?”

You reached up with shaking fingers to brush his cheek. “Because I love you.”

He held you tighter, pressing his forehead to yours. “You weren’t supposed to die for me. You were supposed to live. With me. You were supposed to live.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “I know… I wanted that too.”

“Then why—why—”

“Because this was my choice,” you said, voice thin but steady. “Not my father’s. Not the Marines’. Mine.”

He shook his head violently, tears spilling freely. “You idiot… you beautiful, stubborn idiot…”

You tried to smile again, even as the cold crept in. “This… this is freedom. I finally got to decide what I’d give my life for.”

Ace was sobbing now, arms wrapped around you like he could hold your soul in. “No. No, don’t go—please, Y/N…”

You leaned closer, eyes fluttering shut. “Live, Ace. Please. Not for him. Not for Whitebeard. For you.”

Your fingers slipped from his, and the last thing you saw was the sky—vast, open, free.

And Ace—broken, holding you like the world had ended.

Behind him, your father stood still. Staring. Silent. Like even fire had forgotten how to burn.

——

They say Ace fought like hell that day.

They say he screamed your name like a prayer turned curse, tearing through enemy lines with fire that scorched even the sea-slick stone beneath his feet. Magma met flame, and still, he stood. Burning. Bleeding. Unstoppable.

They say it took Luffy, broken and battered, to drag him back—his brother’s arms locked around his chest as he screamed and kicked and sobbed. They say Ace didn’t want to run. That he wanted to die there, next to you.

But Luffy wouldn’t let him.

Not after you had already made that choice.

After the war, Ace disappeared from the public eye. But everyone in Whitebeard’s crew knew where he went.

The first place he returned to was your grave.

Buried quietly, anonymously, far from Marine monuments or war heroes. Your marine pin sat at the headstone, cleaned and polished. And on it was carved only what Ace asked for:

“She died free.”

He stayed there for hours the first time. Maybe days. No one knows what he said. But when he came back, something in him had changed.

He still laughed. Still drank. Still threw his arm around Thatch and teased Marco and got into brawls with the crew. But the light in his eyes had shifted.

He lived like a man with a fire he couldn’t put out.

Every time the Moby Dick passed through a new island, he asked for any news of the Marine girl with the burning eyes and the fireproof heart. Every time he met someone who believed they were born into chains, he told your story.

Not to make them mourn you.

But to remind them what choice could look like.

“Don’t live trying to prove yourself to people who will never see you,” he’d say. “She taught me that.”

He never said your name out loud. Not often. It hurt too much. But your memory followed him like a shadow—like the steady heat of a fire that never died.

Sometimes, when he thought no one was watching, he’d take the small locket he wore under his shirt—a single photo of you, tucked behind a scrap of your old Marine uniform—and whisper,

“I’m still burning for you.”

And he was.

Not for Whitebeard. Not for revenge.

For you.

Because if someone like you—born into war, raised under fire—could choose love in the end…

Then he could choose life.

Just as he was.

And he would live every day the way you wanted him to:

The sun beat down on Baltigo’s training grounds, and sweat rolled down your temple as you lunged forward, blade meeting a staff. You were stronger now—smarter, sharper—but today wasn’t about technique. Today, your sparring partner was Sabo.

“You’re overthinking your footwork again,” he said with a crooked smile, twisting out of your strike with maddening ease.

“And you’re underestimating me again,” you snapped back, trying not to stare too long at the glint in his eyes.

He laughed, the sound warm and disarming. “Fair enough. But I like watching you think.”

You faltered, and in that pause, he caught your wrist and spun you into a harmless lock. His voice dropped a little as he leaned close. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Your breath caught, heart thudding faster than your body could justify. “You promise?”

“I swear on my hat,” he murmured, tugging the brim of it playfully over your eyes.

It was stupid how fast you fell. But it was Sabo—loyal, brave, brilliant Sabo. How could you not?

⸻

Months later, you were still with the Revolutionary Army, your days filled with covert missions and letters sent back to the Sunny. But your nights… your nights were his.

You sat on the roof of HQ, legs tangled with his, head resting against his shoulder. Sabo’s gloved hand traced idle circles on your knee while the stars blinked overhead.

“Do you ever miss anything from your past?” you asked quietly, half-afraid of the answer.

He paused. “Sometimes. But it’s hard to miss something when what I want is right here.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Sabo…”

“I mean it,” he said, looking at you. “I never thought I’d feel… safe with someone again. But I do—with you.”

You smiled, but a soft ache pulsed in your chest. There were still things he wouldn’t say. Parts of himself he tucked away like classified files. But you told yourself it was enough.

It had to be.

⸻

Koala entered the training room with her usual energy, towel slung over her shoulder. “Sabo! You promised you’d go over the new intel drops with me.”

Sabo looked up from where he was seated beside you. “Right. I forgot.”

You gave him a smile, already pulling back. “Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

Koala glanced at you with a small smile. “You’re getting really good. Your form’s almost as clean as mine now.”

You forced a chuckle. “Almost?”

She grinned, oblivious. “I’ve been at this longer. It’s nothing personal.”

But that was just it—everything about her wasn’t personal. It was natural. Easy. Koala knew his favorite meals, the way he fidgeted when nervous, how to calm him after nightmares. She’d been there through it all—before you.

And lately… you couldn’t shake the feeling you were trying too hard to catch up.

⸻

The skies over Baltigo had turned a dull gray, the wind restless with oncoming rain. You sat on the rooftop ledge outside your dorm quarters, overlooking the cliffside where ocean waves churned in quiet rage. Below, the base pulsed with activity—soldiers training, officers reporting in, laughter echoing from the mess hall. It was the same as always.

But not for you.

You hugged your knees, the usual warmth you felt in this place now replaced with something colder. Lonelier.

Sabo hadn’t noticed that you’d been skipping meals. You doubted he noticed the way your conversations had shortened, the way your laugh didn’t reach your eyes anymore.

He hadn’t said anything about how you trained alone now, or how you stopped waiting for him after meetings. And if he had noticed… maybe he’d just assumed it was nothing. Maybe, to him, it really was.

You rested your chin on your knee, blinking hard as the wind tousled your hair.

The thing was—you liked Koala.

She wasn’t mean or smug or spiteful. She was kind. She smiled at you during meetings, gave you water during long missions, even complimented your form after training. She was smart, sharp, a born leader. Everything the Revolution stood for.

She just also happened to know Sabo’s soul like the back of her hand.

You’d caught moments—little ones. The way she’d nudge him when he was brooding too long, and he’d instantly soften. The way he touched her shoulder gently when she looked exhausted, with a familiarity that required no words.

They’d been through so much together. You knew that. You’d heard the stories. You’d even seen the scars.

But that didn’t make the ache in your chest any less real.

⸻

Two days later, you were walking past the war room when you heard them.

Sabo and Koala.

“I still remember that night at Minerva,” she was saying, laughing softly. “You were so high on painkillers, you thought I was a marine.”

“And you hit me with a clipboard,” Sabo said with mock offense.

“Because you groped me, you idiot!”

“That was an accident!”

You stood there for a second too long, frozen in the hallway. The kind of laugh Sabo let out… it was deep. Free. Like something from a time before he ever knew you.

You turned away before they noticed, footsteps retreating down the corridor.

That night, you didn’t go to your shared room. You slept in the empty archive library, curled up between dusty ledgers, where your name wasn’t next to his on a clipboard or etched into a memory of war.

⸻

You told yourself you weren’t pulling away—you were just giving him space. You were just keeping busy.

That’s why you trained past sundown, sparring dummies until your knuckles bled. That’s why you volunteered for every boring logistics run, every solo recon mission. That’s why you smiled when you passed him in the hallway, even if it felt like a knife each time he said, “You okay?” without really looking.

You were afraid to ask for more—afraid he’d say no.

Afraid he’d look at you like you were just being needy.

Pathetic, a voice in your head whispered. He chose you, didn’t he? Isn’t that enough?

But late at night, when the base was quiet, and you were alone under the stars again… it didn’t feel like enough.

It felt like you were slowly being erased from your own relationship.

⸻

It was nearly midnight when he finally found you.

You were sitting alone at the edge of the cliff near HQ, the same one where you and Sabo used to sneak away to talk, to kiss, to just be. Now it felt too big, too quiet—like the wind itself could swallow you whole.

You didn’t turn when you heard his footsteps behind you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sabo said, voice carefully neutral.

“I’ve been here,” you replied softly, your gaze fixed on the crashing waves below. “I always am.”

He paused behind you. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You gave a bitter little laugh. “You noticed.”

That made him frown. “Of course I did. I’m not—what’s going on with you?”

You finally looked at him. He looked tired. Concerned. But distant—like he didn’t quite get it. Like you were speaking in a language he never learned.

You swallowed. “This… this isn’t working.”

Sabo blinked. “What?”

“I feel like I’m drowning, Sabo,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you. “And you don’t even see it.”

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

“From everything!” you snapped, standing up suddenly. “From the way you never talk to me unless I ask first. From the way you light up when Koala enters a room, and I—”

You caught yourself, but it was too late. The word had left your lips.

Sabo’s expression changed instantly. “This is about Koala?”

Your fists clenched. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s not about her—it’s about what she means to you.”

“She’s my friend.”

“I know,” you said, stepping back. “And I like her, Sabo. That’s the worst part. She’s everything I want to be for you. She’s strong. Loyal. She’s seen every version of you—your past, your pain, your scars. She knows you in a way I never will.”

Sabo looked stricken, as if you’d struck him. “Y/N… that’s not fair.”

You shook your head. “Isn’t it?”

“She’s like a sister to me—”

“And I’m not asking you to stop loving her like family!” you cried. “But you treat her like she’s part of your core. And me? I feel like a shadow sometimes. I’m just… something soft you hold when the world’s too loud. But never someone you really let in.”

He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”

You flinched.

“I’m not making up how I feel, Sabo.”

He sighed harshly. “Then what do you want from me? To erase Koala from my life? To give you every memory I’ve ever had?”

“No,” you whispered, throat tightening. “I just wanted to feel chosen.”

Silence fell. Sabo stared at you, eyes unreadable.

“I gave you everything I had,” you went on, voice cracking. “I gave you my loyalty, my heart, my time. And I get scraps. Half-answers. Smiles meant for someone else. I waited for you to meet me halfway. You never did.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re being unfair.”

You looked at him, really looked at him—and that was the moment you knew.

He didn’t understand.

He loved you, yes. But not in the way you needed to be loved. He loved you like a flame loves air—quietly, conditionally, consuming you only when it wanted to.

And you were done setting yourself on fire to keep the illusion of warmth alive.

You stepped back. “You don’t get it. And maybe you never will.”

Sabo opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

You turned away before he could see your tears fall.

Behind you, the cliff wind howled.

⸻

The world was burning.

Smoke coiled through the air as the Revolutionary Army clashed with marines at a remote outpost. You moved through the chaos with practiced precision, dodging bullets, parrying blades, your haki flickering with every movement.

Sabo was beside you, his pipe smashing down on an opponent with crushing force. You locked eyes, wordless but perfectly in sync—until a sudden tremor split the ground.

“Split up!” Sabo shouted.

You nodded and dashed toward the northern flank, fighting through the smoke. But the explosion came too fast.

A wall of debris erupted behind you, sending you crashing into the wreckage. Dust filled your lungs. You tried to stand—tried to call out—but your vision was swimming, blood trickling from your scalp.

“Sabo…” you croaked, searching the smoke.

You saw him, just ahead.

He was scanning the battlefield—then his gaze locked onto something.

Koala.

She was crumpled near the east wall, unconscious and bleeding.

He ran.

You raised a hand weakly, voice barely above a whisper. “Sabo—”

He didn’t look back.

You watched, chest tightening, as he knelt beside her, cupping her face, panic clear in his voice as he called for medics.

Your hand dropped to your side.

He didn’t even see you.

⸻

The med bay was quiet, save for the beeping machines and the soft shuffle of nurses. You stood by the doorway, arms crossed tightly, your body still aching from the battle.

Sabo was at Koala’s bedside, his hand resting on hers. She was stable, her breathing even, the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

You didn’t speak.

Not until he finally turned—and froze when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, standing quickly. “You’re here. I was going to come find you—I didn’t know you were hurt—”

“No,” you said flatly. “You didn’t.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “I… Koala was down. I thought she might be—”

“And I wasn’t?”

He flinched.

“I called for you,” you said, voice cracking. “I was bleeding, buried under debris. I called your name. And you ran right past me.”

Sabo’s expression contorted with guilt. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t know. If I had—”

“But you did see her,” you cut in. “That’s the difference.”

He reached for you, desperate now. “She’s like my sister, Y/N—”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I don’t blame you for caring. But it wasn’t just about the battle, Sabo. It’s everything. Every time I try to reach you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you to choose me, you looked somewhere else.”

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping forward. “Y/N, please—you’re the one I come back to at night. You’re the one I think about when I’m out there risking my life. Don’t do this.”

“I don’t want to do this,” you said, tears blurring your vision. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with being second to someone you’ll always love more deeply.”

His voice cracked. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” You took a step back. “When I’m hurting, you don’t see it. When I’m afraid, you tell me I’m being dramatic. I can’t be the only one fighting to hold us together.”

Sabo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you.”

You let out a trembling breath. “Then why didn’t you choose me?”

Silence.

He looked at you, devastated.

“I would’ve,” he said finally. “If I’d known—if I could take it back—”

“But you didn’t,” you whispered. “And I can’t keep bleeding for someone who only notices after I’m already broken.”

Sabo closed the distance, his voice cracking. “Please. Don’t go. We can fix this. I’ll do better—I promise—”

You touched his hand gently, then pulled away. “I believe you mean that. But it’s too late.”

He stared at you, eyes wide, breath shaky. “Please… don’t leave like this.”

You looked into his eyes—those eyes you’d once trusted with your whole heart—and felt it splinter.

“I love you,” you said. “But I need to love myself more.”

You turned, walking out the door as the sound of his breath hitched behind you. He didn’t chase you.

This time, he knew better.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro is surprised when you sit in his lap. He didn’t think you’d be so casual about claiming his knees but he’s not going to push you away. If you’re sitting with him during meal time with the rest of the crew, he’ll probably wrap an arm around you and smile. He likes having his partner close to him. If you decide to sit on his lap while he’s taking a nap or something I think he would subconsciously pull you closer. The warmth of your body definitely feels good on his usually open chest. He secretly craves the skin contact anyways. 

Vinsmoke Sanji 

Sanji is overwhelmed when you sit in his lap. He’s overjoyed that you would be so comfortable around him that you would use him as a chair, however he’s also trying so hard to confine his nosebleed from running your clothes! If he can stable himself from keeping enough blood, he’ll be placing sweet kisses on the side of your head. He’ll take in your sweet scent too, admiring how fragrant and lovely you smell up close. I don’t think he’d be too touchy, in fear of making you uncomfortable, but he’d certainly be hesitant to let you go. 

Portgas D. Ace

Ace is proud when you sit in his lap. Hell yeah! The second division commander loves physical touch, so anything that has to do with you touching him he’s on board! He probably asks you to sit on his lap all the time, or even when he’s riding Striker, although that can be a bit difficult. He loves it when you sit on him during feasts too, his favorite person plus food? He can also use your shoulder as a little pillow for when he inevitably falls victim to his own narcolepsy too!

Sabo 

Sabo is comforted when you sit in his lap. Usually, he’s the one to lay down in your lap, but he also likes having you on top of him too. He especially enjoys when you play with his vest and coat buttons. Your gentle hands roaming his chest send butterflies to his stomach even after you’ve been dating for a while. Please sit facing his body and preen him, he just wants to kiss your face and watch you play with his hair. He’ll even let you wear his hat while you smoosh his cheeks together as long as you’re nice to him. 

Eustass Kid

Kid is boastful when you sit in his lap. He knows that he's your throne and everyone else should know it too. To claim that he’s cocky is an understatement. You love your confident boyfriend though and his oversized metal hand that wraps around your waist to show his dominance too. He likes it when you sit on him in bars, because of course everyone in the Kid pirates knows you're his. His top priority is showing everyone on the Grandline who has the best partner. 

Killer

Killer is smug when you sit in his lap. He doesn’t feel the need to outwardly gloat like his captain, but he likes having your cute little self on his knee. You’re a nice accessory on his hip. He’ll put a hand on your thigh and smile under his mask, happy that everyone who passes knows what's up between you two. Sometimes he’ll pull you into his lap while he’s waiting for food to cook in the kitchen. This has also led to stains on the back of your clothes, but it’s hard to care when your boyfriend has washboard abs. 

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law is flustered when you sit in his lap. He’s not really used to the presence, and usually sits with his legs crossed so in the rare opportunity that you get in his lap, he can be embarrassed. He easily loves it though, there is no better way to tell everyone that you're his by having you so close to him. He thinks it's nice that you like it when he reads to you this way too. You don’t even mind that he’s reading Sora comics, so expect nights full of warm blankets and Law’s reading glasses. 

Luffy is already bouncing in his chair, eyes darting between different dishes on the menu. He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oi, look at this!” He shoves the menu in your face, pointing at a special section “‘Lovebird Feast’, free dessert for nearly married couples! That’s awesome! I want it!!”

You snort, pushing the menu back down “You’d fake a whole marriage just for free food?”

Luffy tilts his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “Duh! Free food’s free food! It's always the most delicious.”

Before you can protest, he’s already turning to the nearest waiter, waving them down enthusiastically, “Hey! We want the lovebird thingy!”

The waiter, a woman with a kind smile, gasps in excitement “Oh! How wonderful! Congratulations, you two!”

You open your mouth to correct her “Stop Luffy, we’re not—“ but Luffy is already jumping ahead.

“Shishishi! We aren’t yet but I’ll do it right now!”

Wait what?!

He suddenly slides out of his chair and drops onto one knee in front of you. The entire restaurant seems to hush. A few heads turn. Somewhere in the back, a musician starts playing soft romantic music.

Oh. Oh no.

Luffy grabs your hand, grinning up at you like he’s having the time of his life “Y/N! We’ve been on so many adventures together, and you always give me food, and you’re really fun to be around!” His grip tightens “So, do you want to marry me?”

The restaurant erupts. People cheer, clapping and whistling like this is the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

Your face burns.

This idiot! He didn’t even try to make it sound real!

Still, two can play at this game.

You bring a hand to your chest, gasping dramatically “Luffy, I—I don’t know what to say!” You blink rapidly, pretending to fight back tears “This is so sudden! But...” You clasp his hands in yours, shaking them for extra effect “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

The cheering gets louder. Someone throws flower petals over you. The musician in the back picks up the tempo.

Luffy beams, bouncing to his feet “AWESOME! Now where’s the food?”

The waiter, practically swooning, claps her hands together “Right away, sir! And don’t worry, your Lovebird Feast comes with our cutest personalised decorations, so give us a moment and we’ll get it to you”

Luffy turns to you, grinning ear to ear “See? Told ya it’d work!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying so hard not to laugh “You’re impossible.”

A few minutes later, your table is overflowing with steaming plates of grilled seafood, buttery rolls, and a massive chocolate cake that says Congratulations, Lovebirds! in fancy frosting and two small drawings of your caricatures with hearts around them.

Luffy digs in immediately, stuffing his face with meat and laughing between bites “Man, this was such a good idea! Maybe we should do it again at another restaurant!”

You snort, shaking your head “What, you gonna propose to me at every place we eat now?”

He swallows a mouthful of food and grins “Maybe! You’d say yes every time, right?”

Your heart stumbles over itself for a second, but you quickly recover “Only if there’s free food involved, I guess.”

Luffy laughs, shoving another piece of cake into his mouth “Then it’s a deal!”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling. Even if it was fake, and even if he only did it for the food…

You kinda wouldn’t mind hearing him say those words again.

Maybe for real, next time.

You’re now on your way back to the ship and just thinking about telling everyone what happened makes you laugh.

“What are you laughin at?” Luffy asks while bouncing his own belly.

“Sanji’s gonna hate us when we’ll tell him what we did to get free food…” you laugh more.

Luffy suddenly stops and you turn to see what’s going on with him. Only to see him trying to mimic Sanji’s face and expression, “Food isn’t a game!! And why did you use my y/n for your stupid plan?!?”.

You start laughing so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.

“Let’s make a bet Y/N… I bet he’s gonna say the exact same words I said just now” he says putting his hand in front of you.

“Mmh okay. I bet he’s going to say something like ‘How dare you propose to Y/N before me!!!’”

Luffy smiles and “That’s a good one. What do you want if ya win?”

Oh, now this is a hard question… What do you want?

Then an idea pop up in your mind.

“If I win I’ll be the captain for one day!” You say smiling proudly at your own mind, imagining already the things you could do and make Luffy do as his Captain.

“Shishishi, that’s a good one. Okay. But if I win… we’re gonna get a real ring your size for the next time!” His eyes close as his smile widens even more, “So? Deal?”

You heart start beating so fast that you’re bearing breathing.

Why?

Why does he want a ring?

And why is he planning on proposing again?

Then you snap out of your thoughts as you hear his laugh again. You look at his hand in front of you, waiting to be shaken.

“Deal…” you say as you now shake his hand.

Back to the Thousand Sunny the first thing Luffy does is looking for Sanji and tell him everything that happened, excluding the bet part of course.

He even mimicked the expressions the waiters and waitresses had while he was proposing.

Then, after a moment of shock and as you were anticipating, Sanji finally speaks “Mon Dieu , food isn’t a game, idiot! And why did you use my precious Y/N for your dumb game…”

“Oh, you lost Y/N. Now we’ll get a ring!!” Luffy smiles at you, ignoring the way Sanji stopped his desperate act just to look at him like he murdered someone.

You blush hard, not being able to even say a word.

“WHAT RING NOW? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Y/N STOP LAUGHING, THE IDIOT IS BEING SERIOUS!!”

Sanji keeps trying to stop both you and Luffy, but honestly?

You wouldn’t mind getting proposed again, and who knows maybe with the ring it will feel real.

And you don’t mind it at all.

── .✦ Zoro:

Zoro knew coming here was a mistake.

The restaurant is way too fancy for his taste, golden chandeliers, white tablecloths, expensive plates that look like they belong in a museum. The portions are tiny, the waiters have that I’m better than you attitude, and worst of all… Sanji recommended it.

You, however, are having a great time.

You sip your drink, smiling at the romantic ambiance, while Zoro sulks across from you, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“This place is nice” you hum.

Zoro scoffs “Tch. Feels like a prison.”

You roll your eyes, about to retort, when his fork suddenly slips off the table. With a sigh, Zoro pushes his chair back and kneels down to grab it.

And that’s when it happens.

A loud gasp echoes through the restaurant.

The soft clinking of silverware stops. Conversations halt. The waiter carrying a tray of wine nearly drops it.

Zoro freezes, fork in hand.

“…What the hell?” he mutters.

You glance around and immediately see the problem. The entire restaurant is staring at him, some people are covering their mouths, others are tearing up, and the woman at the table next to you whispers excitedly to her date “omg look, he’s proposing!”

They think he’s proposing...

Your lips twitch. Oh, this is gold.

Zoro must realize it too, because he slowly looks up at you, processing the situation. The restaurant waits with bated breath. You see the exact moment he decides to roll with it.

Still kneeling, he sighs dramatically and reaches for your hand instead of his fork.

“Guess there’s no backing out now” he says flatly.

A chorus of awws sweeps through the restaurant. Someone sniffles.

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. If Zoro’s gonna pull this, you might as well make him suffer.

So, with your most dramatic expression, you gasp, bringing a hand to your chest “Zoro! Is this—” You choke up for effect “Is this really happening?”

Zoro glares at you, silently daring you to push further.

You do.

You blink rapidly, pretending to fight back tears “I—I never thought this day would come!” You squeeze his hand, voice trembling “Ever since I first saw you, I knew—” You pause, just to let the anticipation build “that you were the love of my life!”

A woman two tables down bursts into tears.

Zoro’s jaw tightens. His ears are definitely red now. But he won’t let you win so easily.

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah… you know, it’s been real annoying, carrying this ring around for so long.”

Your eyes widen. Oh, he did NOT just—

The restaurant collectively gasps again. Even the chef peeks out from the kitchen.

Zoro still doesn’t have a ring, so the bastard reaches over, plucks a tiny onion ring off his plate, and slides it onto your finger.

“There,” he says, smirking “You happy now?”

You nearly choke on air.

The restaurant erupts. Cheers. Clapping. Someone throws flower petals. A waiter rushes forward with champagne.

You need to end this. Fast.

So, with all the enthusiasm of a dramatic soap opera heroine, you throw yourself into Zoro’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“YES! A MILLION TIMES YES!”

The place loses it. Some guy at the bar is sobbing. The waiter brings out a massive cake with Congratulations! written in fancy chocolate drizzle. The restaurant manager himself personally congratulates you.

You and Zoro finally lock eyes, both of you struggling to keep a straight face.

Still holding you, he leans down, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You are so dead after this” he mutters.

You grin “Worth it.”

Zoro sighs, but there’s amusement in his expression. He still hasn’t let go of your waist, and for a second, the noise around you fades, the restaurant blurring into the background.

His thumb brushes against your hip.

“You really wanna sell this?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow “What are you—”

And then he kisses you.

It’s quick, barely more than a brush of lips, but it still shuts you up completely. Your breath catches as the warmth of him lingers, his grip firm and steady as if grounding himself.

Then he pulls back, smirking at your stunned expression “Figured we had to make it convincing.”

The crowd loses it again. Someone pops open a bottle of wine. The cheering is deafening.

Zoro slides back into his seat, reaching for his drink like nothing happened, while you just stare at him. Your face is burning, your heart racing.

Did he... did he really just...

“Oi,” he calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. He nods toward your plate “Eat. We scammed our way into this food, might as well enjoy it.”

You pick up your fork numbly, still processing.

Later that night, walking back to the Sunny, still slightly tipsy from the free champagne, Zoro shakes his head, chuckling.

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you still went along with it” you tease.

He gives you a sideways glance, smirking “Yeah, well… guess I’d propose to you eventually anyway.”

You trip.

Zoro catches you easily, steadying you with a firm grip, and when he helps you up, he doesn’t let go of your hand right away.

Your heart does something stupid.

“…You serious?” you murmur.

Zoro just smirks, squeezing your hand and giving you a quick peck on your lips before letting go.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, idiot.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Sunlight spills over the ocean, turning the water into shimmering gold as the sea breeze carries the scent of freshly baked pastries. The café you and Sanji are at is charming, small round tables with white tablecloths, elegant teacups, and a dessert display so tempting even you had to stop and admire it before sitting down.

Sanji, as always, is in his element. He leans back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking completely at ease as he watches the waves roll in. He’s been extra flirty today, not that it’s anything new, but there’s something almost mischievous about his smile as he rests his chin on his hand, eyes locked on you.

“You look stunning today, mon amour.”

You snort, sipping your drink “You’ve said that three times already.”

“And I’ll say it a hundred more if it makes you smile” he replies smoothly, winking.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the way your lips twitch upward. Hopeless flirt.

A waiter suddenly approaches your table, setting down a small menu “Would you two be interested in our Eternal Love Special? It comes with a complimentary dessert for newly engaged couples.”

Sanji’s brows lift, and immediately, you see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

You raise a hand, ready to shut this down “Oh, we’re not—”

Sanji reaches across the table and gently takes your hand in his, cutting you off completely.

“Ma chérie” he sighs, looking at you with the softest, most heartfelt expression you’ve ever seen “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do this.”

Then he quickly turns to the waiter “Thank you, I took it as a sign to finally do what I was planning for months now”

Your brain short-circuits.

Wait. WAIT.

The waiter gasps. The couple at the next table stops mid-bite. A hush falls over the café as all eyes turn to the two of you.

You know Sanji. You know this is fake. But the way he’s looking at you, the warmth in his eyes, the way his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, it feels real.

You swallow hard “Sanji—”

He stands up, gracefully stepping around the table before lowering himself onto one knee. The sunlight catches his golden hair, framing him like something out of a damn romance novel.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special,” he says, voice smooth as silk “Your laughter is my favorite melody, your kindness is my greatest treasure, and every day with you is sweeter than the finest dessert.”

Someone sniffs. You don’t dare look away, afraid your own face might betray you.

Sanji reaches into his pocket, and for a horrifying second, you think he might actually have a ring... He pulls out a thin silver napkin ring from the table setting.

The café erupts into cheers. Someone claps. A woman dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. The waiter looks about two seconds away from fainting.

Sanji takes your hand, slipping the napkin ring onto your finger with such tenderness that your heart physically aches.

“Tell me, my love,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but with an edge of something more “Will you make me the happiest man in the world?”

You could end this now. Laugh it off, tell everyone it’s fake, and move on.

…But where’s the fun in that?

You inhale sharply, pressing a hand to your chest like you just can’t believe this is happening “Sanji, I—” You let your voice waver for dramatic effect “Of course! Yes!”

The café erupts. Cheers, applause, a waiter brings out a fancy chocolate cake with “Congratulations, Lovebirds!” written in delicate script.

Sanji presses a lingering kiss to the back of your hand before rising to his feet. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You play dirty, sweetheart” he murmurs.

You smirk up at him “Right back at you.”

The two of you sit back down, and while Sanji smoothly dives into his slice of cake, you… you can’t stop staring at him. Your heart is still racing. He’s been teasing you for so long, but this felt different.

And maybe the little gleam in his eyes says he knows it too.

Sanji casually picks up his fork, cutting into his cake as if he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell in the middle of the café. But there’s something different about the way he looks at you now, a quiet intensity behind his smirk.

You, on the other hand, are trying your best to keep your composure, but your heart is still fluttering uncontrollably. That was not part of the act, you think, biting your lip.

“So,” you begin, trying to regain some semblance of control over your thoughts, “you think I’ll just say ‘yes’ to a napkin ring?”

Sanji grins like a cat who’s just gotten the cream “Only if you’re truly as smitten with me as I am with you,” he teases, his voice dripping with charm “Was that not the most romantic proposal you’ve ever heard?”

You blink at him. That damn smirk. It’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s so pleased with himself.

“Romantic?” You arch an eyebrow, playing along “More like cheesy, Sanji. I mean, come on... napkin ring? Really?”

He chuckles, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear “It’s not the ring that matters, my dear. It’s the gesture.” He winks, leaning back in his chair, looking completely smug now that the moment has passed “Besides, I’m sure I’ll get you a real one soon enough. Once I find the perfect one.”

You blink at him again, still processing how he just seamlessly went from a joke proposal to something that feels strangely serious. Did he mean it?

Before you can dwell on it too much, the waiter returns with another plate, this time with a much larger piece of cake.

Sanji’s eyes light up “Ah, my favorite!” He takes the plate and picks up his fork, but before taking a bite, he looks at you again, that same intensity in his gaze.

“So,” he says, his voice suddenly more quiet, more sincere “did you like it? The proposal, I mean. I know it was a little… unorthodox.”

You’re caught off guard by the seriousness of his tone. He’s not teasing you now, not putting on that flirty act he does so well. His gaze is soft, like he’s searching for your answer, his expression almost vulnerable.

You bite your lip, fighting back the heat creeping up your neck “I...” You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. You want to tease him, but there’s something there in his eyes “It was… unexpected” you finally say, your voice softening “But… sweet, I guess.”

Sanji’s lips curl into a grin again, but this time, it’s gentler, less playful and more genuine. “You know, you’re the only woman I’d do something this stupid for.” He leans closer, his voice dropping even lower, his breath warm against your ear “So, maybe... just maybe, you know... when the time is right, I’ll actually make it real.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t tell if he’s joking or if this is one of his moments of sincerity. But then, the way his hand brushes against yours as he pulls back from the table feels like something more.

You stare at him, and he meets your gaze, his blue eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

Before you can say anything, Sanji’s finger gently taps the napkin ring on your finger, the little silver band now feeling strangely significant “Just wait,” he says softly, “the real proposal will be a thousand times more romantic. And you’ll be the one telling me yes.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought, knowing he’s both serious and playful, making you realize that, despite all the teasing and drama, he does mean it. And maybe, just maybe, you’re a little bit more excited about the idea than you want to admit.

“You better keep that promise, chef” you reply softly, your voice almost teasing, but with a genuine undercurrent that you both recognize.

Sanji leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself “I’ll hold you to it, mon amour. You’ll see. I’m a man of my word.”

And as the two of you continue eating, the quiet intimacy that lingers between you both speaks volumes. Even if the proposal was a joke, the feelings beneath it were anything but a joke.

── .✦ Ace:

The crew is in the midst of celebrating their latest victory, mugs of rum and plates of food scattered across the long table. Everyone is laughing and teasing each other, the air thick with camaraderie and joy. Ace is leaning against the railing, surrounded by his crew, his usual playful energy filling the space.

You’re off to the side, chatting quietly with Marco, enjoying the rare peace amidst the rowdy celebration.

“Looks like everyone’s having a good time” you say, smiling as you watch the crew’s antics.

“Yeah,” Marco replies, “they definitely need moments like this. It’s been a while since we’ve had a reason to really celebrate.” He glances at you, a soft smile on his lips.

Meanwhile, Ace is leaning over the table, listening to the crew, and you notice the mischievous glint in his eyes as he exchanges a few words with Thatch. The two of them laugh, and you can see Ace’s trademark grin forming.

Suddenly, someone’s voice rises above the others, slurring slightly from the alcohol “Hey, Ace!” he shouts, clearly a little tipsy “I dare you to do something! You’re always pulling pranks, it’s your turn!”

Ace smirks and looks over at them, his eyes flicking to the rest of the crew who eagerly start egging him on “What do you have in mind?” he asks, leaning in as if he’s genuinely curious.

The others grin at each other, clearly having had too many drinks “I dare you to propose to Y/N, right now!”

The crew erupts into laughter, clearly loving the idea. You’re still talking to Marco and don’t hear it, unaware of the dare.

You turn around, confused, just as Ace, with his usual confidence, strides over to you. His eyes lock onto yours, and his smirk widens, his posture already dramatic as he drops to one knee in front of you.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice loud and theatrical, “will you marry me?”

The entire crew gasps and then bursts into laughter. You freeze, completely caught off guard.

For a split second your heart skips a beat, but then you notice the glint in his eyes. He’s teasing. It’s the same playful look he always has when he’s messing with someone.

You swallow hard, trying to laugh it off “Ace, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, Ace stands up quickly, his grin widening as he grabs your shoulder and laughs loudly “Haha, come on! I’m just kidding! You know me!”

The crew, still in fits of laughter, cheers him on, but your heart sinks. You feel embarrassed, and the sudden realization hits you hard. You knew it was just another one of his jokes but for some reason, this one stings more than the others. You’re left standing there, staring at him, feeling both foolish and hurt.

“Ace…” you start, your voice quiet and suddenly trembling with a mixture of anger and something deeper. You can’t put your finger on it, but it feels like your heart’s being pulled in two directions.

Ace notices the change in your tone and looks at you, the playful glint in his eyes dimming for a moment as if he’s unsure of what’s happening “Hey, come on. It was just for fun, right?” He chuckles, brushing it off, but there’s something in his voice now, a hint of unease that wasn’t there before.

You force a smile “Yeah, sure, just for fun” you say, but your voice cracks slightly. You quickly turn away from him, walking off toward the edge of the ship, away from the crew and the laughter. You don’t want to face anyone right now, not Ace, not anyone.

Ace calls after you, but you don’t look back. You can feel his gaze on your back, but you don’t know if you’re ready to face the playful tone that always comes with his jokes. You’re hurt, and you can’t tell if it’s because you really thought he was serious for a moment or because it felt like he didn’t take your feelings into account.

The sound of the crew’s laughter is still behind you, but it feels distant now. You rest your hands on the cold metal of the ship’s railing, staring out at the dark, endless sea, trying to breathe through the hurt.

“Hey,” Ace’s voice suddenly cuts through the night air. You hadn’t realized he was following you. His playful tone gone, replaced by something softer, maybe even regretful “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head, not turning to face him “It’s fine, Ace. Just... just go back to the crew. I don’t want to make a scene.”

There’s a long silence, and you can feel him standing behind you, still close, but not daring to push further. You can hear the deep sigh he lets out.

“You know I mess around a lot, right?” Ace says quietly, after a beat “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Ace seems to sense your hesitation, and he steps a little closer.

“I was just having fun with the guys,” he continues, his voice low, almost apologetic now “I didn’t think it would upset you. I’m sorry. If you want to talk about it… I’m here.”

You take a deep breath, trying to push back the frustration that’s built up in you. You hate how vulnerable you feel, too exposed. But you can’t let him see that, not right now.

“I just need some space” you reply quietly.

There’s another long pause before you hear him step back and you finally allow yourself to breathe a little easier. Ace doesn’t push you any further. You hear his footsteps retreat, but you know he’s still watching you, waiting, just in case you need him.

You know Ace didn’t mean to hurt you. You know he’s always been like this reckless, playful, always laughing things off. But tonight, it felt different.

Why did it bother me so much?

You hear footsteps behind you again, slower this time, more hesitant. You sigh “Ace, I said I needed some space—”

“It’s not Ace.”

You turn and find Marco standing there, arms crossed.

“You okay?” he asks, but his sharp eyes tell you he already knows the answer.

You manage a small, tired smile “Do I look okay?”

Marco huffs a soft laugh “Not really.” He steps beside you, leaning against the railing. For a moment, the two of you just stand there in silence.

Finally, he speaks again “Ace is an idiot.”

You let out a surprised laugh, though it’s weaker than usual “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Marco tilts his head slightly, watching you “But he’s not heartless” he continues “He cares about you more than he probably realizes. And right now, he’s sitting over there, looking like a kicked puppy because he knows he messed up.”

Your fingers tighten on the railing “I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, Marco. But…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable “I guess it just stung more than I expected. He laughed it off like it was nothing.”

Marco hums in understanding “Because to him, it was just a joke. But to you… it wasn’t.”

You don’t reply, but you know he’s right. Even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself before, a small part of you had wanted it to be real.

Marco pushes off the railing and pats your shoulder lightly “You don’t have to talk to him yet if you don’t want to. But if you do…” He glances toward the other side of the ship, where Ace is sitting on a barrel, staring down at his drink, barely touching it. His usual carefree energy is gone “He’s waiting.”

You hesitate. A part of you still wants to be mad. But another part, the part that cares too much, wants to hear what more he has to say.

With a deep breath, you push off the railing and make your way toward him.

Ace notices you immediately, his head snapping up, eyes widening slightly. He doesn’t grin this time, doesn’t make a joke. He just watches you cautiously, like he’s bracing himself.

You stop a few steps away “Hey.”

Ace exhales, setting his drink down “Hey...” He looks uncertain, which is rare for him “Can I...” He hesitates “Can I talk to you?”

You nod and sit down on the crate across from him. He looks relieved but still fidgety, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

After a long pause, he finally speaks “I didn’t think, okay?” His voice is quieter than usual, missing its usual cocky edge “I didn’t think about how it would feel for you. I was just messing around with the crew, and when they dared me, I just… went with it. I didn’t mean for it to be a joke at your expense.”

You cross your arms “Then why did you laugh it off like that?”

Ace winces slightly “Because… I panicked.”

That catches you off guard “Panicked?”

He lets out a slow breath and runs a hand through his messy black hair “Yeah. Because for a second, when I was kneeling there, looking at you, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore” He pauses, his voice dropping lower “And that scared the hell out of me.”

He looks at your confused face, and for once, there’s no teasing in his eyes. Just raw honesty.

“I mean…” He rubs his face, frustrated with himself “I mean that maybe it wasn’t just a joke to me, either.”

The world seems to tilt slightly. Your breath catches, and you stare at him, trying to process his words.

Ace sighs, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees “I don’t know how to say this the right way. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. But you—” He exhales sharply “You matter to me. More than I probably let on. And when I saw how upset you were, I realized that I really, really don’t want to lose you.”

You swallow thickly, your emotions all tangled up “Ace…”

He leans back, giving you a small, hesitant smile “I won’t joke about something like that again. I swear. But…” He rubs the back of his neck “If—if I ever did propose… I’d want it to be real.”

For a long moment, you don’t speak. You’re still mad. Still hurt. But beneath all of that, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest, something dangerously close to hope.

Finally, you shake your head and stand up. Ace tenses, as if expecting you to walk away again.

Instead, you go closer. And before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his shirt and tug him down into a kiss.

Ace freezes for a second, caught completely off guard. But then he melts into it, his hands finding your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. The kiss is slow, uncertain at first, but then it deepens, warm, real, full of everything you haven’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pull away, Ace blinks at you, completely dazed “...Whoa.”

You smirk, your heart still racing “No jokes this time?”

He grins, breathless “No jokes.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway “Good.”

Ace watches you for a moment, then his grin softens into something more genuine “So… does this mean you forgive me?”

You pretend to think about it “Hmm. I dunno. Maybe you should actually try proposing for real and see how I feel.”

His eyes widen, and you laugh at the way he suddenly looks flustered. But the warmth in his expression tells you that maybe, just maybe, that day isn’t as far off as you once thought.

── .✦ Law:

The ballroom is suffocating in its elegance, gold chandeliers, velvet curtains, and nobles dressed in the finest silks. Conversations flow with laughter, political gossip, and expensive wine. You navigate the crowd effortlessly, your arm looped around Law’s as the two of you blend in among the guests.

This is just another mission.

Your goal this time is to gather intel on the underground auction happening later tonight. And to do so, you have to pretend to be a wealthy couple and gain access to informations. Tonight you are Law’s fiancée.

“You’re tense” Law murmurs beside you, barely moving his lips.

You glare up at him, keeping a pleasant smile for the guests “Maybe because I’m still processing how I went from ‘crewmate’ to ‘fake fiancée.’”

He hums “Would you rather be my wife?”

You elbow him discreetly, and he chuckles under his breath.

“Ah, you're Torao, right?” a nobleman approaches with a warm smile and glass in hand, but Law suddently snorts at the name already planning on getting revenge to however was supposed to arrange a fake name for him... you try your best to not laugh “And who is this stunning young woman?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Law speaks smoothly.

“My fiancée”

You freeze for just a fraction of a second, but you recover quickly, forcing a demure smile as the nobleman’s eyes widen in delight.

“Oh, my! I had no idea you were engaged! Congratulations!”

More nobles turn their attention toward you both, excited murmurs rippling through the crowd. You barely resist the urge to shoot Law a look, because you figured he’d introduce you as a partner or companion, but fiancée? That just complicate things.

You manage to slip away after a few more introdutions, excusing yourself to get a drink and some air. Meanwhile, Law stays behind, sipping his wine in silence.

That’s when an older noblewoman leans in conspiratorially.

“You know,” she hums, swirling her drink, “I couldn’t help but notice something peculiar.”

Law barely reacts “Oh?”

She grins “She’s not wearing a ring.”

His fingers tighten subtly around his glass.

Another noble nods “Yes, rather unusual for an engagement, don’t you think?”

A dozen responses flash through Law’s mind, he could say something like it’s being resized, or that you don’t like wearing jewelry. But instead, for reasons even he doesn’t fully understand, the words that come out are, “I have a ring.”

The noblewoman’s eyes sparkle “Oh? Then why isn’t she wearing it?”

Law exhales through his nose “I was planning to propose soon.”

The group of nobles collectively gasps.

“Tonight?!”

Law immediately regrets his words.

“Oh, how romantic!” one woman gushes “You must do it here!”

Law resists the urge to teleport himself out of this conversation, but when he turns, he sees you making your way back, completely oblivious to the trap he just walked into. And something shifts inside him, because in his pocket, there is a ring. Your exact size.

He never planned to use it. He doesn’t even fully understand why he bought it in the first place. Maybe it was impulse, or maybe it was something deeper, something he refuses to acknowledge.

But now he stands. The room falls silent.

You slow your steps, eyes flicking to him in confusion “What...”

And then he kneels.

Your heart stops.

The nobles erupt into cheers.

Law looks up at you as he pulls out the ring.

Your breath catches.

Why is he doing this? Why does he have that?

Law exhales, his voice quieter now, just for you.

“y/n,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours, “marry me.”

There’s no teasing in his tone. No playfulness. Just Law, holding your hand, holding a ring he never intended to actually reveal, and looking at you like he means every single word.

The entire ballroom is silent, every noble watching with excitement. Somewhere in the distance, someone murmurs about how romantic this is, but all you can hear is the rushing in your ears, the unsteady rhythm of your breathing... because Law is holding a ring. Your exact size. And for he looks like he actually means it.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

Law exhales softly, gaze unreadable. His fingers ghost over yours as he holds the ring between them, and you swear you feel a slight tremor.

“Uhm... say yes” he murmurs, voice too low for anyone else to hear.

Your breath catches “What?”

His fingers tighten around your hand, almost imperceptibly “Say yes...” he repeats, softer this time.

You swallow hard. You know this is a performance. Something must have happened while you weren't there and he's doing all this to keep up the cover and complete the mission. But something in the way he’s looking at you, so calm, so sure, makes your throat tighten.

You force yourself to move, to push away the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.

“…Yes.”

The second the word leaves your lips, the room erupts. Cheers, applause, laughters, as the nobles celebrate.

Law stands smoothly, still holding your hand, and in one fluid motion, he slides the ring onto your finger.

A perfect fit.

Your chest tightens.

Why do you have this? you want to ask. Why do you have my size? Why does this feel real?

But instead, you let him pull you closer, his fingers resting lightly against your waist as someone shouts “The kiss! You have to seal it with a kiss!”

Your stomach flips violently. You glance up at Law, expecting him to show hesitation, annoyance... anything.

But his expression remains unreadable.

He exhales quietly, as if resigning himself to what comes next. Then, in one smooth movement, he cups your face, his calloused fingers brushing against your jaw.

His lips press against yours as the world blurs.

It’s soft at first, gentle, the perfect display for an adoring fiancé. But then his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you a fraction closer, and something shifts.

The air between you crackles, the warmth of his body pressing into yours. Your fingers clutch at his suit, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

It doesn’t feel fake, not even for a second, and that breaks you.

When he finally pulls away, the crowd is ecstatic, clapping and cheering. You barely register them.

Law leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice just for you.

You’re not. Not even close. But you have to force a smirk, masking the confusion, the longing, the ache in your chest.

“You’re a better actor than I thought” you whisper, trying to sound teasing, but it comes out unsteady.

His lips twitch slightly in almost a smirk.

And then, just as he turns to lead you away, his voice drops to a whisper.

“Am I acting?”

Your breath catches.

But before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling you through the crowd, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Come on,” he says “We still have a mission to finish.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

The ring on your finger feels heavier than it should, and now you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to take it off.

── .✦ Shanks:

The Red-Haired Pirates are celebrating their recent success, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and music. You and Shanks are at the center of it all, the crew’s favorite couple. You’ve been together for a while now, everyone around you knows how close you two are. The bond you share is evident, whether you’re laughing together, sharing a drink, or pulling off your signature “fake proposal” routine at taverns to get free food.

Today was no different. You’d pulled off yet another hilarious fake proposal at a local tavern with Shanks dramatically getting down on one knee and you playing the blushing fiancée, and everyone else had completely fallen for it. The whole crew had watched from the sidelines, laughing at the reaction of other people around. You and Shanks had left the tavern with free drinks and a standing ovation, and now you’re back on the ship, basking in the afterglow of your latest successful scam.

The crew is still laughing, recalling the events from earlier.

“That was too good,” Yasopp says, slapping his knee as he chuckles “I swear, you two are getting better at this with every try.”

“Yeah, honestly, I almost thought it was real” Benn Beckman adds, leaning back in his chair.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile “You guys are terrible” you tease, nudging Shanks playfully.

Shanks simply grins casually leaning against the railing of the ship as the crew continues to tease the two of you about your newer “engagement”. His eyes are full of mischief, the same spark you’ve always loved. But there’s something different tonight, they seem a little more serious, almost like he’s thinking about something far beyond the joke.

“You know...” Shanks starts, his voice quieter than usual, drawing your attention. The rest of the crew falls into a hushed silence, sensing something is about to shift “Maybe one day, we should do it for real.”

You blink, staring at him “What?” you ask, not sure if he’s still joking or if something else is going on.

Shanks smirks, but there’s a certain vulnerability in his gaze now that makes your heart skip a beat “I mean it. What would you say if I asked you for real one day? Like, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

For a moment, everything around you goes still. The sounds of the crew’s laughter fade, and it’s just you and Shanks, standing there. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, something deeper than the usual playful teasing.

You feel a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. It’s clear he’s not messing around anymore.

“You really want to know?” you ask softly, your voice a little unsteady.

Shanks doesn’t break eye contact, his expression soft but steady “Yeah, I do.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. For a heartbeat, everything feels heavier... your emotions swirling as you take in the meaning behind his words. Then you smile, a warm, genuine smile. You take a deep breath, knowing what this means “Then ask me, and find out.”

Shanks’ lips curl into a gentle, tender smile, and for a moment, you think maybe he’s going to kiss you right then and there. But instead, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“I’ll make you notice right away when it’s for real,” he says, his words full of affection “You’ll be so surprised when I’ll do it, you won’t even know what hit you.”

You laugh softly, a mix of emotions rushing through you “I can’t wait...” you say, your voice light but with a hint of excitement.

Without another word, Shanks pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he presses his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. You melt into it, the taste of his lips familiar and comforting, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

The crew is watching you two, stunned into silence at first, but then the cheers start.

“Get a room!” Lucky Roux shouts with a laugh, and the rest of the crew joins in, clapping.

You pull back slightly, your forehead resting against Shanks’ as you both smile at the crew’s reaction. He gives you a playful wink, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes” he says softly, his grin full of mischief again.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile, still feeling the warmth of his kiss on your lips “I kinda spoilered you my answer.”

The crew continues to laugh and tease, but you and Shanks know this moment is real. It might not have been an official proposal yet, but you both understand that when the time is right, he’ll ask, and you’ll say yes. For now, though, you’ll just enjoy this moment with him, the love between you two shining brighter than anything else.

And as the crew celebrates, you and Shanks share another kiss, a promise of what’s to come.

Shanks barely pulls away from your lips before a familiar glint of mischief sparks in his eyes. The crew is still laughing and whistling, throwing jabs about how disgustingly in love the two of you are, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You know that look.

Before you can react, Shanks suddenly drops to one knee again, right there on the deck, holding out his empty hand like he’s presenting a ring.

“Alright, alright! Since the moment is so perfect... Y/N, will you make me the happiest pirate alive and marry me? For real this time?” His voice is exaggerated, his expression overly dramatic as he bats his lashes up at you.

The crew erupts, laughing and cheering like this is the best show they’ve ever seen. Some of them start slamming their mugs, chanting, “SAY YES! SAY YES!” Lucky Roux even tosses a handful of peanuts in the air like they’re flower petals.

Shanks is still kneeling, hand outstretched “Well?” he asks, tilting his head with a teasing grin “Are you gonna break my heart in front of my beloved crew, Y/N?”

You let out a dramatic sigh and step closer, leaning down just enough to flick his forehead.

The exaggerated thunk makes the crew howl with laughter.

Shanks rocks back like you’ve physically struck him, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded “Rejected… just like that?” he gasps, looking up at you with the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen “You didn’t even consider it? Not even for a second?”

You shake your head, grinning “Oh, shut up. If I say yes to every proposal of yours, we’d be married a hundred times over by now. I can’t accept two in just one day.”

The crew explodes into laughter again, slamming their mugs together, completely losing it over the ridiculousness of it all.

“I think this is the first time Shanks has ever been turned down,” Yasopp says, wiping tears from his eyes “Somebody write this down, it’s history in the making!”

Shanks, still on one knee, sighs dramatically before looking up at you with a lopsided grin “Guess I’ll just have to try again some other day”

There’s something in the way he says it, something in the way his gaze lingers on yours, that makes your chest tighten.

And then, without warning, he rises to his feet and takes your hand.

You raise an eyebrow, confused, but he just smiles as he pulls you in closer “What are you—?”

“Dancing” he answers simply.

There’s no music playing, just the sound of the crew’s laughter and the gentle crash of the waves against the ship. But that doesn’t stop him.

Shanks starts to sway, leading you effortlessly into a slow dance, like the two of you are at some grand ballroom instead of the deck of a pirate ship, surrounded by a bunch of rowdy, drunken idiots.

The crew quiets slightly, watching in amusement. But then you hear Yasopp groan “Oh, come on. Really?”

“Oi, we’re in the middle of a celebration, not a honeymoon!” someone else calls out.

“Get a room, this time for real!” Lucky Roux laughs.

But you barely hear them.

Because you’re looking at Shanks, and he’s looking at you.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter that there’s no music, or that your idiot pirate family is teasing you both in the background. It doesn’t matter that this started as a joke, or that moments ago, he was on one knee in the most ridiculous, over-the-top fake proposal.

Because right now, the way he’s holding you, one hand in yours, the other resting on your waist, feels so natural. So right.

You let yourself melt into him, following his lead as the two of you continue to sway in the middle of the chaos.

“You’re ridiculous” you murmur, but your voice is soft, affectionate.

Shanks smirks “And yet, you’re still here.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head “Yeah,” you whisper “I am.”

His grip on you tightens just slightly, and his expression softens “Perfect.”

Then, grinning, Shanks playfully lowers you backward while holding you, like in a dramatic dance move. Catching you completely off guard. You gasp, clutching at his coat, and the crew loses their minds.

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Yasopp groans “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! If you're not going into a room then I am!”

The crew bursts into laughter, some covering their eyes, others raising their drinks in amusement.

Shanks, still grinning like a fool, pulls you back up and presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You really are the love of my life, y’know that?” he murmurs.

Your heart skips a beat.

You smile, reaching up to brush a few strands of red hair away from his face “Yeah,” you whisper “I know.”

He lifts the hat just a bit “You’re staring again” he says with a grin.

“I’m not” you lie, too fast.

“You are.” Luffy sits up, stretching “Why?”

“Because you’re weird” you say, kicking the air with your feet.

Luffy laughs “That’s true! Can I kiss you?”

You smile, but quickly turn away when you hear footsteps. Sanji walks by with a tray of drinks. He looks at you, then at Luffy, then back at you. He squints.

“Something wrong with your face, Sanji?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He frowns “No. Just… never mind. Dinner is almost ready.” He walks off.

You glance at Luffy. He’s watching you now.

“Do you think he knows?” you whisper.

Luffy shrugs “Maybe. But who cares?”

“I care! We said we’d keep this a secret, remember? You’re our captain, they will think I get favouritism or something.”

He pouts “I show favoritism to every single one of them. None of you even call me Captain… Who else in the world is a captain but isn’t even called ‘Captain’ by his own crew? Just me! And I really want to tell them.”

“We can’t” you say, standing up “Not yet. It’ll be weird. They’ll tease us forever.”

Luffy tilts his head “So?”

“So… I like it like this. Just us.”

He grins again and nods “Okay, okay. Just us. I like this too.”

But then Usopp yells from the other side of the ship, “Luffy! Why were you smiling like that? Did you eat something without me?!”

Luffy shouts back, “No! Mind your business for once!”

You giggle.

He looks at you, serious for a second “They’re gonna find out.”

“You’re a terrible liar but if we’re careful we can at least have some more time.” you say.

But even as you say it, you know its just a matter of days before Luffy will “accidentally” expose you.

“DINNER IS READY!”

Everyone is gathered around the table, plates stacked high with meat, rice, and bread. Sanji’s outdone himself again. Luffy is already three plates in, sauce all over his face and hands.

You’re chewing on a piece of pizza when a bit of sauce drips onto your chin.

Without even thinking, Luffy leans across the table with a napkin he just stole from Nami and wipes it away gently.

“Messy” he mumbles smiling at you, like it’s normal.

Everyone freezes.

Nami slowly lowers her fork. Zoro raises an eyebrow. Usopp’s mouth falls open.

Sanji blinks “What the hell was that?”

Luffy freezes like a statue, still holding the napkin mid-air.

You feel your soul leave your body.

“Are you two…” Nami starts, squinting hard, “…dating?”

Luffy sits up fast, and stay still like he’s got caught in the middle of stealing all the food.

Then he suddenly snaps “Absolutely fucking not! Why would you even think that?!”

Silence.

You blink.

Zoro tilts his head “You sure? ‘Cause that was some weird-ass behavior.”

“Yeah, dude,” Usopp adds “You never wipe anyone’s face. You don’t even wipe your own face.”

Nami who is still shocked “Did… did he just say absolutely fucking not?”

Luffy looks like a deer caught in a very obvious lie.

Your eye twitches.

You sigh, lean back in your chair, and say, “Yes… yes. We’re dating. That lie was so bad I can’t even pretend anymore.”

Nami chokes on her drink. Brook lets out a dramatic gasp. Chopper claps his hooves together.

All while you whisper “Stupid me, I even thought the worst scenario was you finding out in the next few days.”

Luffy looks at you, then back at them “Wait—so we’re telling them now?”

“No, you! You told them by being the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

He scratches his head “Oops.”

“You literally said ‘absolutely fucking not’, not really in character from you, don't you think?”

He grins “I panicked…That made it more dramatic, right?”

Sanji stands up like he’s about to give a whole speech “When did this start? How long have you been hiding this from your family?”

You groan. Luffy laughs. Everyone starts shouting questions at once.

He leans over and nudges you with his elbow “Hey. At least it’s not a secret anymore. And they don't seem to mind it at all! You were so scared for nothing, look at them!”

You shove a piece of bread in his mouth “You owe me so many meat dinners.”

He just grins wider and keeps eating like nothing happened but with a grin that actually says everything happened.

── .✦ Sabo:

It’s quiet after dinner. The hum of HQ fades beneath the warm weight of Sabo’s arms around you. You’re curled up in his lap on the couch in his room, legs tangled, his coat draped over both of you like a blanket. He’s kissing you softly, lazily, like the world doesn’t need saving for just a few hours.

“You always smell like smoke” you whisper, nose brushing his.

Sabo chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek “And you smell like peace. So I guess we’re even.”

You smile, fingertips trailing the line of his jaw, just about to kiss him again when BANG. The door flies open.

Hack stands there. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Absolutely regretting everything.

“…Oh...” he says flatly.

You launch upright, nearly taking the coat with you.

“WAIT—!”

But Sabo, not missing a beat, still lazily cradling your waist, says in a perfectly deadpan voice “Close the door. We’re not done yet.”

Hack’s brain visibly short-circuits.

He backs out slowly like he’s seen the gates of hell.

“Yup. Nope. Didn’t see anything. I need bleach. Where’s the bleach.”

The door clicks shut.

Silence.

You collapse against Sabo, face buried in his chest.

He just laughs, fingers drawing gentle circles on your back.

“Hack’s probably going to meditate in a cold stream after this.”

The next morning Koala kicks open your cabin door “Rise and shine, lazyass—training starts in twen—”

She stops.

Empty bed. No note. No sign of life.

Her eye twitches.

Cut to: Sabo’s room. She barges in without knocking.

“What the hell, have you seen—oh my GOD!”

You’re in Sabo’s bed. In his shirt.

He’s sleepily spooning you, arm wrapped tight around your waist, chin nestled in your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Koala freezes.

You freeze.

Sabo doesn’t move a muscle. Just groans, nuzzles into you, and pulls you back down under the covers.

“…So that’s why you’re both always smiling at morning drills” Koala mutters.

You peek over Sabo’s shoulder, hair a mess, whispering “Hack didn’t lock the door.”

Koala just turns on her heel “Unbelievable. I’m calling Dragon. You two need supervised training from now on.”

You’re both trying so hard to keep it a secret even now.

Swearing up and down: No more getting caught. No more accidental cuddling in public. No more open doors. NO MORE SPOONING IN SABO'S SHIRT WHILE KOALA SCREAMS.

And yet...

After a brutal training session, you’re the last two stragglers left on the field. The sun's setting, sweat gleaming on both of you, breath still heavy from sparring.

Sabo tosses his gloves aside, runs a hand through his messy, damp hair, and looks at you like you're made of starlight and rebellion.

He steps closer.

You’re flushed, smiling, practically glowing from the adrenaline.

He reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek.

"Nobody’s here," he murmurs, a little breathless “Just one kiss.”

You’re this close. This close. Lips nearly touching—BOOM.

Ivankov struts around the corner like they owns the damn place, fanning dramatically.

“OH honey, if you’re gonna get sweaty together, at least invite me to watch!”

You and Sabo JUMP apart like you’ve been electrocuted.

Sabo coughs violently and turns beet red while you trip over your own foot trying to act like you were doing literally anything else.

Ivankov is grinning like the cat who caught the canoodling lovebirds “You two are about as subtle as a sea king in a bathtub.”

Ivankov winks and keeps walking like nothing happened.

Sabo is frozen. You’re wheezing from secondhand embarrassment.

“…We suck at this.” you mutter.

Sabo just covers his face and groans, “I’m never going to hear the end of all this.”

By now, literally everyone has caught you and Sabo in some weirdly intimate moment, except for one man, Monkey D. Dragon. And that’s how the betting pool was born.

It started with Koala dropping 50 berries on “He finds them mid-make-out in the strategy room.”

Hack went in on “One of them slips up and calls the other ‘babe’ during a mission brief.”

Even Ivankov scribbled down “Sabo gets distracted by Y/N’s ass mid-battle. Dragon walks up behind him.”

There’s a whiteboard hidden in the break room with all their bets.

In all this you and Sabo are sitting on a bench overlooking the cliffside near HQ, pretending to "review maps". The sun is golden, the breeze is soft, and Sabo’s hand is definitely resting a little too high on your thigh for this to be strictly cartographic.

Sabo chuckles, tilting his head toward the training grounds “Koala’s been pointing at us through binoculars for the last ten minutes.”

You glance over and she waves. So does Ivankov, who is literally holding a notepad that says “DRAGON CATCHES THEM: THURSDAY AT 14:37”.

You groan, burying your face in Sabo’s shoulder “This is humiliating.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your hair “We could just tell him and so they'll stop.”

You both pause.

Then simultaneously say, “Nope.”

The next day, it’s supposed to be a standard mission call. Everyone’s focused, the mission is critical, and everything is tense.

Suddenly, in the middle of all the seriousness, something goes wrong. You’re trying to navigate a tricky situation on the field, and you have to quickly adjust your position, which means you shift out of the line of communication for a second.

Sabo watches, trying to get your attention, then blurts out, completely unintentionally “Careful, babe.”

The whole call goes silent. The Den Den Mushi crackles with static, and suddenly, everyone on the call freezes.

Dragon (deadpan, calm as ever) “...What did you just say, Sabo?”

You immediately go white and you whip around to look at Sabo with wide eyes, panic setting in. You can hear Ivankov’s voice in the background, already laughing.

You “SABO, ARE YOU DUMB?!”

Sabo turns a brilliant shade of red "I—I didn’t mean—"

Everyone on the call is absolutely losing it.

Koala, trying to hold back laughter “Oh my God. Did you—did you just call them babe?!”

Hack, in the most deadpan voice ever “I won, right? I absolutely won this bet.”

You’re trying to keep your cool, but you can’t. You can’t. You cover your face, groaning.

Dragon, ever the calm voice in the storm, but with a clear edge of irritation “Next time, keep the personal affections off the mission calls. You're lucky this wasn’t an urgent situation. We almost got compromised.”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You glance at Sabo, who looks like he’s about to combust.

You, exasperated “Sabo, f***, you made me get scolded! This is so embarrassing!”

Sabo, still trying to apologize “I—I didn’t mean it like that! It was just a slip—”

But the damage is already done.

Dragon, his voice slightly dry “We’ll talk about this later. Focus on the mission. And next time—be more professional.”

As the call ends, the atmosphere is tense. You and Sabo are left standing there, feeling like two complete idiots.

Later that day, the break room is chaos. Hack is smugly holding up his winnings from the betting pool. Koala is still laughing, and Ivankov is offering “support” by teasing Sabo non-stop.

You, on the other hand, are doing your best to avoid eye contact with everyone as Sabo sulks in the corner.

You, barely holding it together “I hate you right now. I really do.”

Sabo “I swear, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t mean to, but you’re still an idiot.”

Sabo rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly “…I deserve that.”

── .✦ Kid:

You don’t really think much of it the first time.

A small, clumsily wrapped package left outside your room on the Victoria Punk. The paper’s crinkled like it was balled up five times before someone gave up and tied it with rough twine.

Inside a shiny little trinket you’d mentioned wanting in passing weeks ago.

You raise a brow but say nothing. Maybe someone’s just being nice.

Then it happens again. And again.

Each gift is messy but thoughtful, like someone’s trying to be sweet. A handmade weapon accessory here. Your favorite snacks there. One day, a scrawled note reads, “Don’t let anyone else have this. It’s for you only” not signed.

The crew notices. Of course they do.

Heat starts humming “Someone’s got a secret admirer~.”

Wire goes like “Who even knew you liked that kind of thing?”

Killer, raising a brow behind his mask “...It’s weirdly specific, though. Whoever it is knows you pretty well.”

You try to play it off, but the teasing doesn’t stop. It only gets louder. More obnoxious.

Kid, arms crossed, leaning against the railing “Tch. Who cares? Buncha idiots drooling over gifts like teenagers.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He's unbothered. Disinterested. Completely unfazed.

That night, when the ship’s quiet and everyone’s turned in, you knock on his door. He opens it in a loose tank top and sleep-rumpled hair, eyes narrowing.

“What.”

You cross your arms “Are the gifts from you?”

He blinks “What?”

“The stuff. The notes. The snacks. You’re the only one who listens that closely.”

A flicker of something passes through his expression, too fast to catch. But then his scowl deepens.

“You think I’ve got time to play secret admirer with you? Hell no.”

You stare at him, caught off guard.

“…You’re serious?”

He scoffs and turns away “Go to sleep. You’re imagining things.”

He slams the door behind him. You’re left in the hall, heart twisting a little. Because he sounded so convincing.

But if it’s not him… Then who the hell is it?

After that night with Kid, you really do try to let it go. But the crew doesn’t.

You can't walk into the mess hall without someone raising an eyebrow or tossing a comment.

Wire leans back in his chair one morning, boots on the table, biting into an apple with a grin “Hey, Y/N, no new packages today? What a tragedy. Guess your mystery lover finally ran out of ideas.”

Heat chuckles, elbowing him “Or maybe they’re just planning something bigger. Like a grand confession. What do you think, huh? Gonna be roses next time?”

You, dryly “Right. I’ll expect fireworks off the port side.”

Killer, voice calm but laced with amusement from beneath the mask “Honestly, I’m more impressed by the consistency. Whoever it is, they’re either very devoted… or very stupid.”

Kid, across the room, is pretending not to hear, arms crossed, eyes on something that doesn't exist. His jaw’s clenched so tight, you can see it from here.

You catch his eye for a second but he looks away fastly.

The next morning, nothing shows up. Then the next. And the next.

You don’t say anything about it. Neither does Kid. But something’s different in the air now, like tension caught in a bottle, just waiting to explode.

One night, you’re lying tangled up together, the hum of the ship quiet around you. He’s half asleep, heavy arm slung across your waist, his hand lazily tracing circles on your skin.

Your head is on his chest, warm and steady.

“…I haven’t gotten any new gifts lately” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

He stiffens just slightly, but doesn’t say a word.

You chew on your lip “Think they found out about us? Maybe they backed off.”

Still nothing.

You lift your head and look at him “You ever think about who it might’ve been? Kinda funny, right? Maybe someone on the crew really had a thing for me.”

Still no response.

You grin a little “What if it was Killer? You think he’s the poetic type? Am I his type?”

Before you can say another word—whump.

A pillow slams into your face, hard enough to make you roll.

“HEY!” you shout, laughing “You absolute brat!”

Kid doesn’t even look guilty.

“You’re annoying” he mutters, but there’s a faint blush rising to his ears. He turns his head, scowling at the ceiling like it insulted him personally.

You smirk, poking him in the side “Ohh, someone’s touchy…”

“I’m throwing you off the bed.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“Wanna bet?”

Weeks pass.

Everyone moves on. The secret admirer jokes fade. Kid goes back to normal, grumpy, snarky, yours. You figure that weird little mystery chapter is just done.

Until one day, you find a new gift.

Not one of its usual ones, no haphazard twine, no angry handwriting. This one’s clean, careful. Wrapped in deep red paper with a ribbon tied perfectly.

Inside: a carved charm. Elegant. Personal.

The note says “Couldn’t help myself. Thought you’d like this.”

Your heart actually skips a beat.

You march straight to the engine bay, holding it up like evidence. Kid’s elbow-deep in mechanical guts, oil smeared on his hands.

“Hey,” you call “Now... is this from you?”

He glances up, sees the box, and freezes “What the fuck is that?”

“A gift. Someone left it for me. Just now.”

The silence is nuclear.

Then his voice explodes “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

He storms past you like a cannonball with legs, throwing open the engine bay doors and stomping onto the deck.

“ALRIGHT,” he bellows, voice booming across the ship, “WHOEVER THE HELL THINKS THEY CAN FLIRT WITH MY PARTNER—UGH COME SAY IT TO MY FACE!”

Everyone stops what they’re doing.

A wrench drops. Someone chokes on their food. Killer just sighs.

“YOU HEARD ME!” Kid’s pacing like a madman, hair wild, coat half falling off one shoulder “YOU THINK YOU CAN STEAL MY ONE WITH PRETTY RIBBONS?! Y/N IS MINE. MINE!”

You bury your face in your hands and whisper "Please stop, this is really embarassing."

Killer, calmly from the upper deck “Well. That answers that. We all knew the original gifts were from you, Eustass.”

Heat, grinning “Yeah, but I thought he’d last a little longer before breaking.”

Wire, yelling from the mess hall window “PAY UP! I SAID HE’D CRACK WHEN A REAL RIVAL SHOWED UP!”

You’re still standing in the middle of the storm, holding the new gift while your hot-headed boyfriend is screaming at the ocean.

You, deadpan “Great. Now the whole Grand Line knows.”

Kid, turning to you like you betrayed him “WHY WERE YOU SMILING AT IT?!

“Because I thought it was from you again!”

“WELL, IT WASN’T. AND NOW I’M GONNA MURDER WHOEVER THAT WAS.”

The deck is still vibrating from Kid’s volume. He’s stomping around like a territorial lion, red in the face and shouting murder oaths into the wind.

“COME ON! WHO WAS IT?! WHO THINKS THEY’VE GOT A CHANCE?! I’LL BREAK YOUR TEETH IN.”

You’re standing there, clutching the new gift, wondering if you’ll have to tackle him to keep the crew alive.

But then Killer steps forward, calm as ever “Kid.”

Nothing.

Killer raises his voice slightly “Kid!”

That gets through. Kid slows, turns, still wild-eyed “What?! You want me to let someone just—?!”

Killer sighs like he’s been dealing with this since the womb “That gift wasn’t from a rival. It was from us all.”

The entire crew falls silent.

You blink “Wait—what?”

Killer glances at you, then back to Kid, arms crossed “We knew the first gifts were from you. We’ve known for a while.”

Kid opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again “You—WHAT?!”

Heat, leaning against the rail with a huge grin “C’mon. You thought we wouldn’t recognize your handwriting? You write like you’re trying to fight the paper.”

Wire, popping his head out from the doorway “And who else would wrap a gift in metal wire and call it ‘aesthetic’?"

Killer adds “We figured if we pushed you enough, you’d confess eventually. That final gift was just the nudge.”

Kid stares at them like they’ve grown two heads “So it was a trap?!”

Killer, with a shrug “It worked.”

Then Killer turns to you “What we didn’t know was that you two were already together.”

There’s a ripple of surprise through the crew.

Wire nods “Yeah! Let's go back to that because... like... what?”

Heat nods even more dramatically “Yeah! Since when?!”

You, dryly “A few months before the first gift showed up.”

Kid’s jaw tightens like he regrets every decision leading to this moment.

“You guys are the worst” he growls.

Heat, wheezing “We’re the worst?! You’ve been sneaking around and flirting through weapon mods!”

Wire, laughing “AND YOU STILL DENIED IT TO Y/N’S FACE?!”

Kid lets out a sound somewhere between a growl and a scream and turns to you like you’re his last hope of escaping humiliation.

You just grin at him “C’mon, Captain. Let’s go before you combust.”

He’s still grumbling when you tug his arm and drag him below deck, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

── .✦ Shanks:

The sea is quiet tonight.

The crew laughs near the campfire, their voices loud under the stars. You sit a little away from them, pretending to look at the moon. But really, you’re waiting. Waiting for him.

A warm hand touches your shoulder from behind.

“Miss me?” Shanks whispers, his voice soft like a wave brushing the shore.

You smile without turning “You’re late.”

“I had to talk to Benn. Captain stuff,” he says. Then he leans in close “But I’ve been thinking of you the whole time.”

You giggle, quiet “Liar.”

“I’m a pirate. What did you expect?”

Finally, you turn to him. Shanks is smiling that lazy smile you know too well. His red hair glows under the moonlight. His eyes? All on you.

“Don't look at me like that, someone might see it” you whisper, looking at the crew.

“They won’t,” he says “They’re drunk, loud, and too busy telling stories.”

You glance again. He’s right. No one is looking.

So you let him pull you behind the palm trees. The sand is warm under your feet, and the wind carries the scent of salt and firewood. He sits down and opens his arms.

“Come here.”

You crawl into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He wraps his one arm around your waist, holding you close.

“I missed you today” you say.

“I missed you too” he says. Then he kisses the top of your head “You know what keeps me going?”

“What?”

“This. Just this.”

You press your face into his chest “You’re soft for a pirate.”

He laughs, his chest shaking “Only with you.”

The night is quiet now. Just the waves and the sound of his heartbeat.

He whispers, “One day, when this secret doesn’t have to be a secret anymore… I’ll hold your hand in front of everyone. I’ll kiss you right on the deck.”

You look up at him “Promise?”

“I swear on the one piece.”

You laugh again, and he kisses your nose “That’s a big promise” you say.

“I never break my promises” he says.

And in that moment, under the stars and hidden from the world, you believe him.

It’s late now. The fire has burned low. The crew is asleep, scattered in hammocks or on the beach.

But you’re wide awake.

You stare at the door of his cabin. You know it’s risky. But your heart pulls you there anyway.

You knock once, soft.

The door opens almost instantly. He’s there, sleepy eyes and messy hair. Shirt half buttoned.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks with a small smile.

You shake your head “Can I… stay?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Just steps aside, lets you in, and closes the door behind you.

His room smells like sea salt, old paper, and something that’s just him. It’s small but warm. The bed takes up most of the space.

“You sure you want to risk it?” he teases, pulling the blankets back.

You nod, already crawling in “You’re warm. That’s worth the risk.”

He chuckles, switching off the lantern “Come here then.”

The bed creaks as he joins you. You curl into his chest. His arm wraps around you tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You whisper into the dark, “I love when it’s just us.”

“I know,” he says, resting his chin on your head “Me too.”

Silence for a moment. Just your breaths, your hearts. Together.

Then he says, quietly, “I always sleep better when you’re here.”

You grin, even though he can’t see it.

“You snore” you whisper.

“Lies.”

“Loudly.”

He laughs, low and soft “I’m a captain. I’m allowed.”

You snuggle closer, legs tangled, warmth everywhere. His hand finds yours under the blanket. Fingers laced, easy and natural.

“Stay every night,” he says, voice almost a mumble now “Even if they find out. Even if it’s chaos. I don’t care anymore.”

“You’ll care when Benn gives you that look” you say.

“I’ll survive it,” he says “I won’t survive not having you.”

You go quiet at that. Because sometimes, he says things that hit your heart like a wave.

“I won’t survive not having you either” you whisper.

He kisses your forehead. Gentle. Safe. Real.

In the morning, the sunlight slips through the cracks in the window, painting golden stripes across the bed.

You stretch, warm and safe, still tucked under Shanks’ arm. He’s already awake, watching you with sleepy eyes and a soft smile.

“Morning” he whispers, brushing hair from your face.

“Morning” you mumble back, voice still scratchy from sleep.

He leans down and kisses your cheek “You drooled a little.”

“Liar.”

“You did.”

You groan, roll over, and bury your face in his pillow “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t.

But you’re very late.

You were supposed to help Lucky Roux in the kitchen twenty minutes ago. But after all the cuddling and stealing kisses between brushing your teeth and Shanks being distracting (on purpose), you throw on the nearest shirt and rush out the door.

The morning air hits your face. The crew is already up, busy with chores, chatting, moving crates, laughing.

You walk fast, head down, trying not to look guilty. But then someone says behind you, “Hey…”

You freeze.

It’s Yasopp.

He squints, then tilts his head “That shirt looks kinda familiar…”

You look down. Big, red, half-buttoned pirate shirt. Smells faintly like rum and sea and... you.

It’s his shirt.

You force a smile “Oh, really? I, um… I just bought this yesterday in town! Crazy, right?”

Yasopp blinks “It’s just... Shanks has one just like that.”

You laugh. Too loud “That’s so funny! What a coincidence!”

He raises an eyebrow “Uh-huh.”

You start walking again “Okay, bye! Gotta go stir the stew!”

You practically run to the kitchen, slam the door behind you, and press your back to it, heart racing.

Lucky Roux looks up from chopping onions “You okay?”

“Fine! Everything’s fine! Great! Love onions!”

You spend the next hour hiding in the kitchen, trying to look very busy.

You’re scrubbing a spoon like it just insulted your whole family when you hear footsteps outside.

Then, his voice.

“Mmh…”

It’s Shanks.

You freeze.

“I swear I left it here somewhere…” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

Lucky Roux looks up “Captain?”

Shanks scratches his head “My red shirt. The one with the loose buttons? I wanted to wash it but… maybe I already did? Or someone moved it?”

You choke on air.

Lucky Roux’s eyes widen.

You slowly turn, still holding the spoon, sweat forming on your back.

Yasopp walks in right then, and Lucky Roux points at you silently.

Yasopp follows the finger… sees the very red shirt you’re wearing… and his jaw drops.

“Oh… my… GOD.”

You raise your hands like you’re being arrested “I can explain—”

“No no no no, don’t you dare,” Yasopp says, pointing now “This is amazing. Since when?!”

Shanks, confused, looks between you and them “Wait… what’s happening?”

Your face burns “Shanks. This is your shirt.”

He blinks.

Looks at you.

Then at the shirt.

Then back.

“Oh.”

The silence lasts about two seconds.

Then the entire kitchen explodes.

“What the hell?!”

“You two?!”

“I KNEW IT!”

Lucky Roux claps like he just saw a proposal “This is the best day of my life.”

You groan and hide behind a cabinet door.

Shanks laughs, holding up his hands “Okay, okay, okay, you got us.”

Yasopp shouts, “Since when?”

Shanks grins and leans casually against the table “Mmh… A while. Since that one stop in Lougetown.”

“That was months ago!” someone yells.

You peek out, blushing “We were being careful!”

“You wore his shirt” Yasopp deadpans.

Shanks throws an arm around your shoulder “Guess we don’t have to be careful anymore.”

The crew starts chanting something dumb like “KISS KISS KISS!” and you groan again, but Shanks just laughs and plants a quick kiss on your temple, bold and smug.

“Oh you're actually loving all this” you whisper.

“A lot” he whispers back.

── .✦ Bartolomeo:

You didn’t mean to fall for Bartolomeo.

It kind of… just happened.

Between the screaming, the fangirling, the way he glared at anyone who looked at you too long. But somewhere between the nonsense, you found something real.

He loves big. Loud. Unfiltered. But when no one’s watching? He loves so quietly, you can barely believe it’s the same guy.

Right now, you're hiding in the hallway of the ship, tucked behind a stack of crates. Bartolomeo is sitting cross-legged, handing you a rice ball.

“I made it for you!” he says, puffing out his chest “I watched a tutorial. It’s heart-shaped!”

You look down. It’s… more like a lumpy circle, but you smile anyway.

“It’s perfect” you say.

His face turns red “Y/n…” He sways a little, hand over his heart “You’re too kind… I’m gonna DIE!”

You laugh and take a bite.

“Don’t die. You still owe me cuddles tonight.”

“RIGHT. YES. I shall live for the cuddles.”

The secret has stayed safe. So far.

Except today, you dock on an island with a bunch of rowdy pirates who definitely pick a fight before lunch.

You’re in the middle of battle, blocking with a staff, when one pirate gets too close and knocks you to the ground.

You’re fine. A little scratched. But Bartolomeo sees it happen. And then it happens.

He turns.

He screams.

“THAT’S MY BABYYYYYYYYY—!”

Everyone stops.

Even the wind pauses.

You slowly get up. Face blank.

He freezes.

His hand is mid-air, about to use his barrier powers. His eyes wide.

“…Did I just say that out loud?” he whispers.

The entire crew is staring.

Someone goes, “Wait. Your baby???”

You try to speak “Uh—he means—”

“I MEAN WHAT I SAID,” Bartolomeo yells again, fully panicking now “Y/N IS MY BABY. MY LOVE. MY SWEET CHERRY BLOSSOM—”

“BARTO,” you hiss “Stop confessing in front of everyone!”

Too late.

He throws his hands up and suddenly there’s a giant heart-shaped barrier around you two. Sparkly. Pink. Absolutely not subtle.

He turns to you “At least we’re alone now.”

You facepalm “There’s a window, Barto.”

You hear cheering from outside.

“THEY’RE DATINGGGGG!”

“PAY UP, I TOLD YOU THEY WERE!”

“DOES LUFFY KNOW?!”

You sigh.

Bartolomeo wraps you in his arms, completely unbothered now “So… secret’s out.”

You look up at him “What gave it away? The screaming or the love bubble prison?”

“…Both?”

You can’t help it. You laugh. He kisses your forehead.

“I love you” he says.

“I love you too” you whisper, even if the entire world hears it now.

After that no one seems to actually care about the two of you.

Weeks later you and Bartolomeo are docked on a chill island when you run into the last people you expected: the Straw Hat Pirates.

Luffy spots you both instantly.

“YO, BARTO!!” he shouts, waving like a madman.

Bartolomeo screams, throws himself to the ground, and starts sobbing with joy.

“LUFFY-SENPAI! I WOULD DIE FOR YOU! THANK YOU FOR BREATHING IN MY DIRECTION!!”

You’re behind him like “Okay, this is fine.”

You greet the rest of the crew like normal. Everyone’s smiling, happy to see you, no one suspects a thing.

You and Bartolomeo agreed before getting there: keep it private. You didn’t want anyone or worse, Luffy finding out. Bartolomeo is just way better when it's just the two of you.

That night, it happens.

“GAME NIGHT!” Usopp shouts “Winner gets free food!”

The crew splits into teams. You get pulled into a round of a random game and of course you end up against Luffy.

Everyone’s crowded around. People are yelling. Sanji’s handing out drinks. Robin and Nami are judging.

Luffy’s up first.

He draws a card and starts flapping his arms.

“Bird!” “Chicken!” “Flying fish!” “Zoro waking up late!”

He gets it.

Then it’s your turn.

You pull your card and immediately drop to the ground, trying to act out a seal (It’s harder than it looks).

People are guessing like crazy.

"Penguin!" "Sea cow?"

Luffy squints.

Bartolomeo, sitting quietly in the back with popcorn, clutches his cup.

He stares at you with so much intensity, it’s insane.

And then it happens... again.

You clap your hands and bounce a little, still acting out the seal.

He jumps to his feet.

“YES BABY! GO! DESTROY HIM!! YOU GOT THIS, MY LITTLE WAR MACHINE!!”

Silence.

Everyone stares.

You freeze mid-flap.

Luffy slowly turns “Wait… Baby?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Little war what?”

Nami drops her drink.

Chopper gasps so hard he hiccups.

Sanji says “Wait a damn minute...”

Bartolomeo realizes too late. Hands fly to his mouth.

You’re still stuck in seal position, blinking.

Robin, smiling softly “Well… that explains the way he looks at you.”

You turn to look at him, mad “Do you even try??”

Usopp yells, “YOU TWO?! YOU’VE BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

Bartolomeo’s face is red as a tomato “I… I didn’t mean to! y/n was just so cute pretending to be a seal...”

You slap your forehead.

Luffy, wide-eyed, just goes, “Whoa. You’re dating my number one fan. That’s crazy. He even choose to cheer for you.”

You sigh “Yeah. It is.”

And then he bursts out laughing “THAT’S SO COOL!”

The whole crew joins in, laughing, teasing, clapping Bartolomeo on the back. He’s half-proud, half-mortified, but he doesn’t stop smiling all night.

Later, when the chaos dies down, he wraps an arm around your waist and whispers, “Sorry, babe.”

You smirk “For cheering too loud?”

“For waiting this long to yell about how amazing you are.”

You roll your eyes “I liked the ‘my little war machine’ part.”

He gasps “Really?! I was just improvising!”

“Never do that again.”

——

Law

You caught Law alone in his cabin after a long day at sea. The sun was dipping low outside, casting a warm orange glow through the small window, stretching shadows across the sparse, functional room. Maps, medical supplies, and a few personal items cluttered the desk where Law was bent over his work.

“Mind if I crash here for a bit?” you asked, voice teasing as you leaned against the doorframe.

Law looked up slowly, his dark eyes sharp, narrowed in mock suspicion. “You mean, just to bother me?”

You smirked and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “Maybe.”

His usual calm stayed unshaken, but you caught the faintest lift at the corner of his mouth, like a secret smile.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “But only for a moment.”

The cabin smelled faintly of antiseptic and sea salt, and you moved closer, feeling the coolness of the room contrast with the heat of your fingers as you brushed your hand lightly over his wrist.

Your lips brushed softly over his jawline, then you quickly pressed a kiss mark just below his ear—red and bold against his pale skin.

Law froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking down to the spot, but then he simply tilted his head so you could see better.

“Well, well.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh softly. “What?”

His expression stayed unreadable, cool as ever. He didn’t say more, eyes flickering between you and the maps scattered before him.

Without breaking focus, he spoke, “You’re unpredictable.”

You grinned. “And you like that.”

Law’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t react to the mark on his neck—not outwardly.

You stepped back, heart pounding just a little, pleased that your secret was still safe.

——

The night air was cool, the stars blinking faintly overhead as the crew slowly filtered onto the deck. The work was done for the day, and a casual, easy quiet settled over the Polar Tang.

You leaned against the railing, glancing toward Law who stood near the helm, staring out over the dark sea. The faint red stain on his neck was hidden beneath his high collar, but not to everyone.

Bepo was the first to notice.

“Heh,” he said low, nudging Shachi with his paw. “You see that on Captain?”

Shachi followed his gaze, then grinned. “The lipstick? Yeah. She’s got guts, putting that there.”

Bepo laughed softly. “Captain’s so serious, he probably thinks it’s just a scratch.”

Shachi shook his head. “I bet you five berries he doesn’t even know.”

Bepo’s eyes sparkled. “That’s hilarious. Can you imagine? The Surgeon of Death, with a bright kiss mark?”

Just then, Penguin ambled over, curious about their whispering.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, tilting his head.

Shachi lowered his voice even more. “You know Captain, right? Well… someone left a little gift on him.”

Penguin blinked, eyes wide. “Really? But Captain’s so focused. He wouldn’t notice.”

Bepo grinned. “Exactly. It’s our little secret.”

Penguin chuckled quietly, and Jean Bart, leaning nearby with a cigarette, flicked ash and smirked.

“That’s bold. But no one messes with Captain like that unless they’re special.”

Bepo grinned wider. “We keep quiet though. No need to ruin the surprise.”

They all exchanged knowing looks, careful to keep their voices low so the Captain wouldn’t hear—except, of course, Law did.

You spotted the slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle tightening of his jaw as he remained still near the helm, pretending to watch the dark sea.

Bepo whispered again, “Better keep it down, Captain’s listening.”

But Law’s voice cut through, calm and even. “If you’re all talking about me, I suggest you be more discreet.”

The crew froze for a heartbeat, then quickly scattered, chuckling quietly as they moved away.

You stepped forward, heart pounding slightly as you approached Law.

“Got caught,” you murmured, brushing your fingers lightly over the collar hiding your kiss.

Law’s eyes met yours, sharp but unreadable. “Did you think you’d get away with it?”

You smiled, trying to keep your cool. “Maybe I hoped. It’s not exactly subtle.”

He reached out, gently tugging the collar down just enough to reveal the faint red mark.

“Bold,” he said, voice low.

Your breath hitched. “You don’t mind?”

Law tilted his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I might even say I like it.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by the honesty buried in the calm edge of his voice. “Really?” you asked, tone teasing but quiet, testing him.

He didn’t look away. “I just don’t appreciate being the last to know I’ve been branded like property in front of my own crew.”

Your brows rose, lips twitching into a slow grin. “Property, huh? That’s a strong word for someone who lets me crawl into his bed every time I’m cold.”

Law didn’t flinch, though his fingers twitched slightly where they still held the edge of his collar. “That’s different. That’s quiet. This—” He glanced down toward the faint stain near his neck again, “—this is loud.”

“Mm.” You leaned in slightly, so close your lips nearly brushed his ear. “Then maybe I should go louder next time. Somewhere they can’t miss.”

His breath caught just enough for you to notice.

He turned his face just slightly toward yours, voice low and clipped. “You’re trouble.”

“And you like it.”

Law’s eyes searched yours for a long, still moment. Then he murmured, “Too much.”

There was something almost dangerous in how softly he said it. Not a warning. A confession.

The silence between you tightened, slow and heavy like a pull between magnets. You could hear Shachi and Penguin laughing faintly from below deck, Jean Bart’s footsteps fading toward the galley. But up here, it felt like the rest of the crew had disappeared.

You brushed your knuckles against his coat lapel, playful but deliberate.

“I can stop if it bothers you,” you offered gently—meant it, even if your tone still carried that bite.

He studied you for a second longer, unreadable. Then he reached forward and slipped two fingers under your chin, tilting your face up—not roughly, just enough.

“Do it again,” he said simply.

You blinked. “What?”

He stepped in, barely an inch of space between your bodies now. “Next time you decide to mark me—do it where I can feel it happen.”

Your stomach dropped and soared all at once.

“Oh?” you breathed, eyes gleaming. “Captain giving orders now?”

Law’s smirk was razor-sharp. “Just making sure I’m aware of the battlefield.”

You laughed under your breath, hand sliding to rest lightly on his chest. “And here I thought you’d be the one hiding in the dark, pretending not to care.”

He leaned in—close enough that your noses nearly touched.

“I always notice, y/n. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”

Your heart kicked hard behind your ribs.

But instead of kissing you, he stepped back. Just slightly. Just enough to drive you crazy.

Then: “Now get below deck,” he said smoothly, the Captain voice back in place. “Before you tempt me into something more reckless.”

You grinned and turned, making your way toward the hatch.

But just before you disappeared below, you looked over your shoulder and shot him a wink.

“Next time,” you promised, “I’ll use redder lipstick.”

Law exhaled a slow breath as you vanished from view, head tilting back toward the sky.

He didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t pull his collar up again, either.

——

Sabo

The meeting room inside Baltigo’s command hall was quiet, the long table lit by afternoon sun filtering through cracked windows. Maps were spread out across the surface, alongside hastily scrawled notes about incoming cipher intel and revolutionary cells in East Blue. Dragon sat at the head of the table, silent and composed, while Sabo leaned over the documents with his usual sharp focus.

You were seated to his right, scribbling logistics into a worn notebook, trying very hard not to grin.

Because you knew something Sabo didn’t.

You’d kissed him earlier. Just once. Light, teasing. A playful brush of lips as he adjusted that damn cravat of his. You’d leaned in and left a perfectly placed red lipstick mark right under the tied fold, tucked slightly into the side of the pristine white fabric.

He hadn’t noticed. Too busy grumbling about supply routes.

Now here you were, all gathered for a high-level meeting—and Sabo had a bright crimson signature under his collar.

Belo Betty sat across from you, eyeing the spot.

Koala leaned forward, whispering in her ear, trying and failing to suppress her smirk.

Hack was stone-faced… but you noticed the twitch of his fin as he sipped his tea.

Lindbergh was humming faintly, fiddling with his toolkit, eyes darting toward Sabo every few seconds.

You kept your head down, pen moving smoothly, until—

Dragon’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

“Sabo.”

Sabo glanced up from the map. “Yeah?”

Dragon didn’t even blink. “You have something red on your neck.”

Silence.

Sabo froze. “…What?”

Dragon gestured mildly, eyes back on the war map. “On the left side. Under your scarf. Lipstick, I think.”

Sabo’s hand flew up to his neck like he’d been stabbed.

He touched the edge of the scarf. Paused. Fumbled.

Everyone was watching.

Koala choked on her breath.

Betty outright cackled.

Lindbergh slapped the table.

You buried your face in your notebook, trying to look innocent—and failing miserably.

“I—” Sabo stammered, yanking the scarf free with slightly shaking hands. His eyes found the red smudge instantly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, bright scarlet blooming across his face.

Betty leaned over, voice sweet like poison. “Aw, who left you a souvenir, Chief of Staff?”

Koala was grinning ear to ear. “You said you were reviewing reports this morning.”

“I was!” Sabo snapped, his ears going pink. “I was—”

“Uh-huh,” Lindbergh snorted. “And was that part of the report? A personal… stamp of approval?”

You reached out and tapped your pen on the table, biting your lip. “Well… I did approve him.”

Sabo whipped toward you, scandalized. “You—!”

You blinked, all innocent eyes. “What? I figured you’d notice and wipe it off.”

Dragon cleared his throat. Everyone went quiet.

Then he looked at you with the faintest quirk of a brow. “Efficient marking technique.”

Another wave of laughter echoed through the room.

Sabo groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “I cannot believe this…”

Koala giggled, nudging you with her elbow. “Honestly, we should’ve guessed. You’ve had that lipstick all day.”

You shrugged with a smirk. “He looked too good not to. You know how he gets when he ties that scarf.”

“Do not encourage her,” Sabo muttered behind his palms.

Dragon turned back to the map like nothing happened. “Alright. If we’re done discussing Sabo’s love life—”

“We are not,” Betty cut in gleefully.

“—we can return to the South Blue supply chain.”

Sabo gave you a betrayed look as you leaned toward him, whispering with a grin. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

He gave a long-suffering sigh, cheeks still red, and muttered, “You’re dangerous.”

You bumped your knee against his under the table. “That’s why you like me.”

——

The meeting finally adjourned with scattered murmurs and the shuffling of papers. Dragon was already gone, Hack and Lindbergh trailing after him. Koala gave you one last wink before slipping out, and Betty was still laughing to herself as she lit a cigarette in the hallway.

You stayed seated. So did Sabo.

He hadn’t looked at you after that small talk, still pretending to organize his notes even though his ears were visibly red. The scarf lay useless in his lap now, the crimson smear glaring up at him like a crime scene.

You cleared your throat. “You gonna wear that again tomorrow?”

His pen paused mid-line. “Not if you’re going to vandalize it.”

You tilted your head with mock innocence. “Is that what it’s called now?”

He exhaled sharply, finally turning toward you—blue eyes narrowed, cheeks stubbornly flushed. “You think you’re so clever.”

“I don’t think it,” you said, sliding your notebook shut and leaning in, voice low and teasing. “I know it.”

He watched you, still not smiling. But his foot nudged yours lightly under the table. “That was a meeting with Dragon.”

“Yup.”

“And I walked in there like a target with lipstick on my neck.”

“Mmhmm.” You grinned. “You should’ve checked.”

Sabo rolled his eyes, but his voice had softened. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh please,” you said, inching closer. “You didn’t even flinch during the briefing on Cipher Pol infiltration. One kiss and suddenly you forget how to speak?”

“You call that one kiss?” he muttered. “That was strategic sabotage.”

You laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “You love it.”

He didn’t deny it. Just stared at you for a moment, then quietly set his papers aside.

“Come with me.”

Your brows rose. “Where?”

“Somewhere without Betty’s commentary,” he said under his breath, already standing and rolling his scarf into his coat pocket. “I need five uninterrupted minutes with you.”

You raised a brow. “To yell at me?”

“To retaliate,” he said simply, and offered you his hand.

You didn’t hesitate.

As you followed him down the empty hallway, your fingers laced with his, the mark might’ve faded—but the heat he carried from it definitely hadn’t.

——

Zoro

“Someone’s gonna come looking for you.”

Zoro didn’t move. Just leaned back against the wooden crate behind him, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, watching you like you were the only thing in the world worth tracking.

“They won’t look here.”

Your back pressed to the other crate across from him, just a few feet apart, breath still quick from the last kiss. Straw Hat’s supply storage — tucked behind the galley — was quiet. Safe. Stolen.

“I told you to stop sneaking off mid-training,” you said, not even trying to sound annoyed anymore.

“I told you to stop wearing that lipstick.”

You licked your teeth. “Why?”

He pushed off the crate and closed the distance.

“You know why.”

You tilted your head as he boxed you in. “You gonna complain?”

He didn’t answer — just kissed you again. Rough, hot, a little clumsy in that way he always was when he lost control first.

His hand curled under your jaw. Your palm slipped beneath his open collar. Lips clashed once, twice, then he paused—

You kissed the side of his throat.

Firm. Slow. On purpose.

He froze. “The hell was that?”

You smirked against his skin. “You’ll find out.”

“You’re being annoying.”

“You like it.”

Zoro grunted. “Tch. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Then came the sound of heavy footsteps up above — someone stomping across the upper deck.

Zoro tensed.

You stepped back, patting his chest. “Go.”

“You’re the one who—”

“Go before someone asks where your shirt went.”

He muttered something rude under his breath, grabbed his gear from the crate, and disappeared out the side passage.

You waited a beat, adjusted your jacket, checked your lipstick.

Still perfect — aside from the very deliberate red smear now painted just below Zoro’s jaw.

You grinned to yourself.

And walked back up to the galley like nothing happened.

——

“Zoro.”

Sanji’s voice snapped across the deck like a whip.

Zoro didn’t look up. “What.”

“Zoro,” Sanji hissed again, marching over, pointing like he’d found a crime scene. “The hell is that on your neck?”

Zoro blinked. “What’re you talking about.”

Sanji stopped a meter away, planted his hands on his hips, and leaned in.

“That, moss-brain,” he said, stabbing a finger toward the side of Zoro’s neck. “That bright red smear. Looks like a damn kiss.”

Zoro frowned, reaching up. “What the hell—”

“You’re not even gonna deny it?!”

“I didn’t say it was—!”

“Oh my god,” Sanji reeled backward, spinning in a circle. “Who?! Who the hell would be desperate enough to kiss you?!”

“Shut up.”

“I swear, if you laid a finger on Robin-chwan—!”

“I didn’t!”

“Nami-swan?!” Sanji staggered. “I’ll kill you!”

“You’ll try.”

Then Sanji froze, eyes going wide.

“…Y/N?!”

Zoro blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been training with her a lot lately—skipping meals, disappearing after dinner—and now this?! Don’t tell me you corrupted her, you goddamn muscle goblin—!”

Zoro stood up slowly. “You say one more word about her and I’ll slice your tongue off.”

Sanji gawked. “So it was her?!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t deny it!!”

Across the deck, Nami shielded her face with her hand, laughing silently. Robin sipped her tea with amusement.

You leaned against the railing nearby, pretending to watch the clouds.

Usopp leaned over toward you, stage-whispering, “So…was it you?”

You blinked innocently. “Why would I kiss Zoro?”

Usopp raised both brows. “You tell me.”

You sipped your drink. “Maybe the same reason someone hasn’t said a damn thing to stop Sanji yet.”

The swordsman still stood there, scowling as Sanji ranted about honor and lipstick and romantic delusions.

Nami leaned casually against the railing, one hand covering her mouth to hide a grin. “Well, well, looks like someone isn’t as sneaky as they think.”

You shot her a playful glare but smiled. “Maybe I like showing off a little.”

Robin sipped her tea, raising an eyebrow with a knowing look.

Sanji, still visibly steamed, muttered, “I can’t believe I’m the last to know.”

Zoro didn’t say much, just gave you a side glance — the slightest hint of a smirk twitching his lips.

“You really gonna keep doing this?” he asked, voice low.

You stepped closer, brushing your fingers lightly over his wrist.

“Only if you promise to keep noticing.”

Zoro’s eyes flickered to the spot on his neck.

“Damn it, you’re impossible.”

Nami laughed softly. “Honestly, it’s cute.”

Sanji groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up.

“Cute? I’m surrounded by fools.”

Zoro ignored him, pulling you just a little closer.

“Let’s keep this between us. No need to make it a crew thing.”

You nodded, resting your forehead briefly against his.

“Just us.”

Sanji muttered, “Good luck keeping that secret…”

Zoro glanced down at the faint lipstick mark on his neck, then quickly looked away like he wasn’t supposed to have noticed. His voice was quieter than usual, almost shy.

“You… left that there.”

You smiled gently, stepping closer.

“Yeah. Didn’t think you’d catch it.”

He cleared his throat, fingers twitching slightly as if unsure what to do next.

“I… I don’t really like showing off.”

You reached out, brushing a stray hair behind his ear.

“I know. That’s why I made it small. For just you.”

Zoro’s jaw clenched, but it wasn’t anger — more like trying to keep his cool.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his side.

“Only if you want me to.”

His hand found yours quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Just… don’t be too obvious next time.”

You looked up, catching the small, almost-hidden smile tugging at his lips.

“Deal.”

And for once, Zoro didn’t say anything else—just pulled you a little closer, and the quiet said everything.

——

Ace

The armory wasn’t where most crewmates snuck off to flirt, but you liked the smell of steel and the thick walls. It was cool inside.

Ace leaned against a stack of crates, sweat glistening at the base of his throat, shirt half undone and clinging to his back. The heat from his body didn’t help the temperature, but you didn’t complain.

“You’re late,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned back against the door.

Ace grinned, slow and sharp. “You said ‘when you’re done with rounds.’ I did my rounds.”

You pushed off the wall and walked toward him, letting your fingers trail over a rack of throwing knives. “Did you? Or did you let Blenheim take your shift again?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, voice dipping.

You stepped into his space, crowding him back against the crates. “Only if you’re trying to get out of putting your hands to use.”

“Oh, I’ll use my hands,” he said, catching your waist with one and tugging you in.

You didn’t resist. You kissed him first — hard, deep, your fingers digging into his belt loops as you bit at his lower lip just enough to draw a low noise from his chest.

Ace responded like he always did: with heat, with hunger, with that slight lack of patience that always gave you the upper hand.

You broke the kiss and let your lips trail down to his jaw. “Stay still,” you whispered.

“What—”

You pressed a slow kiss to the curve of his neck, right under his ear. Intentional. Deliberate.

When you pulled back, he looked dazed — but not suspicious.

“What was that?” he asked, breathless.

“Nothing.”

Ace blinked, confused. “You look smug.”

“I always look smug when I get what I want.”

His eyes narrowed, but he looked too wrecked to question it. “What the hell did you do?”

“Why don’t you go help Haruta with the cargo like you promised,” you said sweetly, pressing a hand to his chest. “You’re already late.”

“You’re kicking me out?”

“I’m letting you walk away before I keep you here another hour.”

Ace licked his lips, clearly debating it. He smirked finally, tapping your hip. “Fine. But you’re not done with me.”

You leaned in and whispered, “I know.”

And just like that, he walked out — shirt open, cheeks flushed, and a very bright lipstick mark stamped on his neck.

He didn’t feel it.

He didn’t look in a mirror.

And you?

You knew the second someone would notice.

Because you heard Izo’s voice echo across the deck less than a minute later:

“Oi… Ace. You forget to wipe off your girlfriend again?”

Ace froze.

You leaned against the armory door, smile creeping back into place.

Checkmate.

The moment hit the deck like a cannonball.

Ace stood dumbfounded, halfway to the rigging, completely unaware. The wind caught the edge of his shirt — still half open, still clinging to his flushed skin — and revealed the bold, unmistakable stamp of your lipstick on the side of his neck.

Bright. Smudged. Deliberate.

From your spot by the armory, you watched it unfold with delicious satisfaction.

“Yo, Ace,” Thatch called from across the deck, barely masking the amusement in his voice. “You get into a fight with a very small, very specific octopus?”

Ace stopped walking. “The hell does that mean?”

“Little red target on your neck, bro,” Thatch said, biting back a grin. “Kinda hard to miss.”

Izo appeared out of nowhere, sipping tea, his eyes sparkling. “That shade of red is very flattering on you. Subtle as a punch to the face.”

Ace reached up instinctively, rubbing the back of his neck. “What? There’s nothing—”

“You’re rubbing the wrong side, hothead,” Marco muttered as he passed by with a bored look and zero intention of helping.

Ace turned in place, trying to look over his shoulder.

“Is this a prank? What is this?”

“Better question,” Vista added with a raised brow. “Who’s bold enough to claim Fire Fist in broad daylight?”

You watched the scene build from the sidelines, arms folded, head tilted slightly. You didn’t say a word. Not even when Ace turned and locked eyes with you.

He knew. Oh, he knew.

“You,” he called out, striding toward you. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t say anything,” you replied, smiling too wide to be innocent.

“That’s exactly what’s suspicious!” His fingers pointed wildly at the crew. “Everyone’s laughing at me, and you’re just standing there looking—smug!”

“Maybe they’re just admiring your fashion choices.”

“Oh my god, you planned this,” he groaned, one hand dragging down his face. “You—You weaponized your mouth.”

You sauntered toward him. “You didn’t seem to mind my mouth ten minutes ago.”

That shut him up. Briefly.

From behind him, Haruta whispered loudly, “He’s been branded.”

“Like cattle,” Thatch added.

Marco raised his cup lazily. “Official property.”

You stood on your toes, brushing your thumb right under his jaw — not wiping it off, just getting close enough to make his breath hitch.

“Next time,” you murmured, “check the mirror before leaving me.”

Ace stared at you, eyes burning like a slow flame. “Oh. You think this is funny?”

You smirked. “I think it’s adorable how long it took you to notice.”

He stepped in, body heat radiating like a furnace. “You know what happens to brats who play games with fire?”

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. “They get burned?”

“No,” he growled, fingers curling at your waist. “They get dragged back into the armory and ruined.”

That got a loud wolf-whistle from Thatch.

“Only if you make it past Marco,” you whispered, grinning.

“Try me.”

——

Later that night, the ship was quiet — a lull after laughter and teasing had finally faded into the gentle creak of the Moby Dick’s hull and the ocean beneath.

You were halfway to your quarters when you felt it.

Heat. Behind you.

A hand caught your wrist, pulled you backward into the shadows between two storage rooms. Warm breath skimmed your neck.

“I owe you one.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t have to.

“I was wondering when you’d come collect.”

Ace pressed you to the wall, chest brushing yours, one arm braced by your head.

“Wanna tell me why I walked around for half the day marked like your territory?”

You tilted your chin. “Because you are.”

He went still.

Just for a second.

Then he grinned — that cocky, dangerous, beautiful grin that always meant trouble.

“You trying to start something, sweetheart?”

“I think I already did.”

He leaned in, slow and close, until his lips nearly brushed your cheek. “You know everyone saw it, right? Half the crew won’t shut up. Marco asked me if I needed help cleaning up.”

You snorted. “You left me desperate and smug in the armory. That was fair play.”

“Oh, no. That was bait.”

He grabbed your jaw gently, made you look up at him. “You wanted me to find out in public.”

You didn’t deny it. You just held his gaze, lips parted slightly. “You looked good in red.”

“I look better when I return the favor,” he murmured.

And before you could shoot back a smart reply, his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Deep. Claiming.

Not rushed — deliberate. Like he was carving the memory of this moment into your skin. Like he wanted you to remember exactly who you belonged to, the same way you’d left your signature on him.

His knee slid between yours, pressing your thigh up against the wall. His hands found your hips, then your waist, then back to your jaw — like he couldn’t decide where he wanted you most.

You barely managed to whisper against his mouth, “Thought you were mad at me.”

“I am,” he growled. “I’m furious.”

“Liar.”

He kissed you again, hard enough to steal breath.

When he finally pulled back, he was panting lightly, his voice hoarse. “You wanna make this a game? Fine. But don’t think you’re the only one who can leave marks.”

You opened your mouth to tease him—try me on your lips—but his fingers trailed under your jaw, brushing your neck like he was already choosing where he’d leave his signature next time.

He didn’t have to.

You were already melting.

“Next time,” he murmured, “I’ll make sure it’s somewhere you can’t hide.”

You smirked. “Big words, fire boy.”

He chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

Then his tone softened — quiet in a way that made your chest ache.

“But for what it’s worth…” he whispered, voice barely a breath, “I liked it.”

You blinked.

“The mark,” he clarified, fingers lacing with yours. “Didn’t even care when I saw it. Just thought, hell… someone really loves me, huh?”

That hit you harder than anything else had all day.

Your heart stuttered.

So you leaned up and kissed him again — not to tease this time, not to stir him up. Just to say, yeah. I do.

When you pulled back, you whispered against his skin, “Maybe I’ll leave two next time.”

Especially when the moment Zoro cracked his knuckles across the table and gave you that look.

The one that says: I’m not losing.

You give him the exact same look back, because neither are you.

“Last round. With the three of you.” Nami announces smugly, shuffling the cards “Winner takes all.”

You and Zoro lean forward at the same time.

Competitive energy radiating like two angry thunderstorms about to collide.

Across from you, the rest of the crew watches with barely contained excitement.

This is not about the game anymore.

This is about pride.

Honor.

Ego.

And unfortunately… you remember you two aren't the only two playing. In fact, you both lose.

You stare at the table.

Zoro stares at the table.

Then slowly you both look up and scowl.

“Rigged.” you say flatly.

“Tch,” Zoro clicks his tongue “obviously.”

“Skill issue.” Sanji says immediately, lighting a cigarette.

“You’re just mad you didn’t even make it to the final round.” you snap.

He gasps like you stabbed him.