one piece x reader network

Today was the day.

For the past few weeks, your life had become exactly like in those slightly cringy romance books you loved: cozy library corners, late-night phone calls that lasted until the sun crept over the horizon, and the intoxicating presence of a man who was as chaotic as he was tender. Dating Ace felt magical. He was intense, honest, a little bit of an idiot in the most endearing way possible, and wore his heart on his sleeve in a way that made you feel like the center of his entire universe.

You had already navigated the first hurdle of his life: his brothers. Living with Sabo and Luffy in a small apartment when he wasn't at the station meant that "meeting the family" had happened in stages. The first encounter had been relatively normal, though Luffy had spent the first twenty minutes trying to figure out if you could be bribed with snacks to let him play with Ace's firefighting gear. (Spoiler: it took him only a minute to change his mind and devour all the snacks himself in a matter of seconds.) Sabo, on the other hand, had been the diplomatic one, welcoming you with a graceful smile and a knowing look that suggested he was well aware of how head-over-heels his brother was.

Then, there was the incident. The one you still teased Ace about because you enjoyed how red he would get.

About two weeks ago, you and Ace had been caught in a moment of, well, particularly fervent passion against the kitchen counter of their shared home. The kiss had been deep, hungry, and completely consuming. It was the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world blur into insignificance. That was, until the front door slammed open with the force of a hurricane.

"ACE! I'M HOME AND I FOUND A COOL BUG-" Luffy had screamed, sliding across the hardwood floor in his socks. He had stopped dead just inches away from the two of you, his wide eyes blinking in confusion. "Oh. Are you guys eating each other's faces?"

Sabo had appeared behind him, pausing mid-sentence as he took in the scene. He didn't look shocked so much as immensely amused. He had simply leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and let out a soft chuckle. "Glad to see you're getting along so well. You didn't mention your girlfriend would be here today, and by the looks of it, you didn't mention to her either that we would be here. Next time, maybe give us a warning so Luffy doesn't ask ten million questions I do not wish to answer."

With that, the mood had been effectively murdered, leaving Ace a stuttering, crimson-faced mess and you breathless with laughter. But the aftermath had been really sweet. Seeing how effortlessly you fit into their chaotic dynamic - how you could handle Luffy's energy and Sabo's wit - had made Ace look at you with a level of adoration that felt almost tangible. He loved you, that he was already sure of even if none of you said it yet, and he loved that you loved his brothers.

But now, it was time for the real test. His other family.

To Ace, the crew at the station wasn't just a group of colleagues; they were his lifeblood. They took him in and gave him a job, a second home, while he had been at his lowest. Whitebeard was the father he had always craved, and from what Ace had told you about the man, he was a mountain of a man whose strength was matched only by his capacity for the love he held for his family. Marco, Thatch, Vista, Jozu, and many more were his elder brothers who doted on him fiercely. Bringing you into that circle was a gesture of immense significance. It meant you weren't just a girl he was dating; this was quite literally him saying that you were now stuck with him forever.

You looked at the clock and smiled when you saw you had only about two hours left until you could go. You were still at the library, currently attempting to focus on a shipment of new arrivals, but your mind was miles away. Your phone had been buzzing intermittently all afternoon.

Ace: [2:12 PM] I think I'm gonna die. Thatch has checked the appetizers three times. He asked me to ask you if you like shrimp cocktails. Do you? Please say yes or else he's gonna go crazy.

You: [2:20 PM] Didn't he already ask that last week? I still like it, so tell him not too worry too much. I already appreciate how much effort he made it with. Just breathe, both of you! I'll be there soon.

Ace: [2:21 PM] I can't breathe. My lungs have stopped working. This is a medical emergency. Send help. Or just send yourself. Hurry up, please!!!

You smiled and leant against the mahogany desk. God, your heart was fluttering like crazy. You could practically hear his voice - that raspy, energetic tone that always seemed to vibrate with excitement. You loved this slightly needy side of him, the vulnerability that he only showed to the people he trusted most.

As the clock ticked toward the end of your shift, you quickly sent one last text.

You: [4:45 PM] Just wrapping up! I'm going to head home, shower and freshen up real quick, and then I'll drive straight to the station. I can't wait to meet everyone!

Ace: [4:46 PM] See you soon, beautiful. I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot!

You chuckled, tucked your phone into your pocket, and began the process of closing down your section. The library was unusually quiet today, the golden hour light filtering through the high windows and casting long, amber shadows across your beloved stacks. It was the kind of peace you deeply cherished, because it perfectly balanced out the beautiful chaos Ace brought into your life.

You left the building with a spring in your step, the crisp air hitting your skin as you made your way to your car. The late afternoon sun caught the windshield, casting a bright reflection that made you squint. You reached into your coat pocket to press the unlock button.

Nothing. Only empty fabric.

You slapped your jeans. You checked your back pockets. A wave of irritation washed away the optimism you'd felt the entire day as you remembered the silver keychain sitting exactly where you left it: on your desk under the new shipments you had gotten today.

Sighing, you turned on your heel and headed back up inside, keyless and annoyed at your own forgetfulness, but you tried not letting it dull the genuine excitement inside of you.

You felt happy. Only a quick shower at home and you were ready to meet his people.

At the station, Ace was not, in fact, vibrating - that poor man was practically oscillating.

"If you pace one more lap around this table, I'm going to trip you, yoi," Marco sighed, leaning back in his chair with a look of amused exhaustion.

Ace stopped mid-stride. He had a frantic expression on his face that almost made the older man laugh. "I can't help it! What if the others don't like her? What if Thatch makes some weird joke and she thinks we're all lunatics? What if Pops asks her something too intense and she gets super intimidated?"

Thatch, who was currently arranging a platter of finger foods with an intensity that rivaled even a Michelin-star chef, looked up and grinned. "Ace, buddy, you're a disaster who falls asleep in the middle of sentences. The fact that this incredibly smart girl is actually dating you is the real mystery here. If she has already survived you, she can definitely survive all of us."

"Not helping!" Ace barked, though his lips quirked into a small smile.

"He's right, though," Vista added, adjusting his cuffs. "You've spoken of nothing else for over three weeks. You've practically written a manifesto on her virtues. If she's half as wonderful as you claim, she'll fit right in."

Whitebeard sat at the head of the large communal table, his booming laugh echoing through the entire room. He watched his son with a gaze full of warmth and pride. "Enough worrying, Ace. Anyone who makes you this happy is already family in my eyes. Now, sit down before you wear a hole in my floor."

Ace finally succumbed, sinking into a chair and glancing at his phone. It was nearly time. He knew that by now, you'd be leaving your house. He counted the minutes, growing more nervous with each passing second until his palms were basically soaked. He wanted to see your face, to feel your hand in his, and to see the look of surprise when you realized just how much these men already adored you.

The first ten minutes of your expected arrival time passed. Ace didn't mind or even notice it, as he was currently busy stealing a few bites from the overwhelming amount of dishes Thatch had prepared. He also knew that traffic could be a nightmare this time of day, and that you sometimes lost yourself in the shower when a particularly good song on your playlist started playing.

Then, fifteen minutes passed.

After running away from Thatch - who had finally realized someone was ruining his food presentation - he opened his phone and sent a quick text.

Ace: [6:07 PM] Hey! Just checking in. Everything okay? The shrimp cocktail tastes really good by the way, you'll definitely like it!

He waited. He watched the screen, waiting for those little typing bubbles to appear. They didn't.

Twenty minutes passed.

By now, Ace was getting slightly irritated. He shifted in his seat, a small crease forming between his brows. You were never late without a word. You were the most punctual person he knew, which he guessed came with the perks of being a librarian. Even if you were only five minutes behind, you always sent a quick "Running late!" or a "Traffic is crazy!" his way.

He tried calling.

Ring… ring… ring… "Hey, it's Y/N! Leave a message after the beep!"

He hung up and tried again. Same result.

A cold prickle of unease began to crawl up the back of his neck. He tried to dismiss it, he really did. Maybe your phone had simply died. Maybe you couldn't find the dress you wanted to wear for today. Any of these reasons would explain why you were running late. But the silence on the other end of the line simply felt… unnatural.

"Everything okay, Ace?" Marco asked, his voice softening. He had noticed the change in his younger friend's demeanor. Ace was a fairly happy guy; it was rare to see him upset or anxious, which is why Marco immediately noticed him acting different.

"Yeah," Ace muttered, though he didn't sound quite convinced. "She's just… not answering. It's weird. She always answers."

"Maybe she's just really nervous," Thatch suggested, though Ace's nervousness clearly made him feel a bit on edge, too. "Meeting Pops is a big deal. Maybe she's having, I don't know, like a little pre-game panic attack."

Ace desperately wanted to believe that. But he couldn't. He spent the next half hour in a state of slowly escalating panic with his eyes glued to his phone, watching the minutes tick away like heavy drops of lead. His chest tightened, a cold knot forming in his ribs as the silence stretched on far too long. He sent another text, his thumbs shaking slightly against the screen, then one more when no reply came.

Ace: [6:35 PM] Seriously, Y/N, you're starting to freak me out. Just send a thumbs up so I know you're alive.

Ace: [6:43 PM] Please answer me.

The silence was deafening, and he was really starting to freak out. Each time the station door opened, Ace jumped up from his seat, his heart racing into his throat. He still hoped it was you. He wanted to see you smile and hear a silly excuse. He thought you might have just forgotten something simple, something the two of you would just laugh about. Yet, it was only other firefighters walking in and out.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. The laughter died down as the crew realized Ace wasn't just simply being nervous anymore. He was downright spiraling. He stood up abruptly again, the chair screeching against the floor.

"I'm going to call her again," he whispered, his voice tight.

"Ace, give it a few more minutes," Marco cautioned, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Don't let the anxiety get the better of you."

"You don't understand!" Ace snapped, though there was no anger in it, only genuine fear. "She doesn't do this. She never does."

He dialed your number for the tenth time. As the phone rang, he felt a sudden, sharp jolt igniting inside of him. It was such a cold, visceral feeling in the pit of his stomach that he genuinely felt like he might throw up right now. He knew that feeling. It was the same instinct that told him when a floor was about to give way during a rescue, the same primal alarm that always saved him and the people inside the fire.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like he was suffocating.

Just as he was about to hang up and decide to drive to your apartment, the station's emergency alarm tore through the air.

The loud, piercing shriek of the siren instantly transformed the room. The relaxed dinner atmosphere vanished, replaced by the usual precision and urgency of a professional unit. Firefighters began moving in a synchronized blur, shouting orders and sprinting toward the bays to gear up.

Ace froze, his phone still pressed to his ear. He wasn't on call. He was off-duty, dressed in his date clothes, a stark contrast to the heavy turnout gear being donned around him.

He watched as Marco and Thatch leaped into action, their faces grim and focused. Right. Ace forgot that they were part of the responding team. He was lost for a whole second, just standing there in the middle of the chaos like an idiot, until the roar of the engines started and the heavy thud of boots finally woke him up from his trance.

"Move it, move it!" someone yelled, rushing past him.

Ace stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He felt an overwhelming urge to follow them. It was a desperation so strong it felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. He didn't know why he was so terrified, but the intuition from before had evolved into a certainty by now.

As the first truck began to pull out of the bay, Ace lunged forward, grabbing the sleeve of one of the firefighters heading for the door.

"Where?" he gasped, his voice sounding wrecked, almost foreign to his own ears. "Where is the call?"

The firefighter looked at him, confused for a split second before shouting the address over the roar of the engine.

"The public library on-"

He didn't even need to hear the rest of the sentence.

The moment the words "public library" left his coworker's mouth, the air in Ace's lungs left him, and he genuinely felt like he might suffocate. The noise of the station, every single sound from the shouting to the clanging of gear faded into a dull, distant hum, replaced by a deafening thrumming in his ears. It was the sound of his own heart, he realized, hammering against his ribs with a violence that felt like it might actually break them.

Not there. Please, not there.

His mind started racing frantically. You told him you had left the library. You told him you were going home to take a shower and freshen up, and that you couldn't wait to see him. You shouldn't have been in there anymore. But you hadn't answered. You hadn't texted once. And now, the one place you loved more than almost anything in the world was going up in flames and a pillar of black smoke across the city.

He knew you were there.

"Ace!" Marco's voice broke through the haze. The older man had seen the look of sudden, vacant horror on his face and was already moving toward him. "Ace, look at me! Are you on that scene?"

"I… Y/N," Ace choked out. His voice was a wrecked thing, barely a whisper at this point. "She… she might have gone back. She's not answering, Marco. She's not answering!"

The panic that had been a slow simmer for the last hour boiled over into a blinding terror. Ace didn't think. He didn't strategize with his team. He didn't act like the professional firefighter the city trusted with its lives. No, he acted like a man who was watching his entire world catch fire, because that was what was currently happening. He lunged for the nearest set of turnout gear, his movements frantic and clumsy as if this were his first time, nearly tripping over his own boots as he scrambled to get dressed. He didn't care that he was off-duty. He currently gave a flying shit about any sort of protocol.

He just needed to get to you.

The ride to the library was a complete blur. The flashing red lights felt like they were mocking him constantly. Ace sat in the back of the truck, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the seat, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Every second felt like an hour. He tried to breathe, but the air felt too thin. He kept seeing your smile - the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed at his stupidity, the way you looked in that red cardigan, the way you had looked at him on the pier.

Please be okay. Please, please, please just be okay.

As the truck rounded the final corner, the sight that met them was a nightmare. He heard Marco cursing, though he couldn't quite understand what he was saying.

The library was being devoured. A massive plume of thick, oily smoke billowed the evening sky, blotting out the sunset. The modern glass facade, which had once let in the golden hour light you loved so much, had shattered completely, leaving behind jagged teeth of crystal framing a maw of roaring flames.

The immense heat hit him before he even stepped off the truck. It was a wall of such intense searing pressure that it pushed against his skin. There were people everywhere - bystanders screaming, police officers trying to keep the crowd under control, and other firefighters already engaging the blaze.

Ace leaped from the truck before it had even come to a complete stop.

"Ace! Wait for the size-up!" Marco shouted, his voice commanding and sharp, but Ace was already gone.

He was running toward the building, his heavy boots thudding against the pavement. Neither the crowd or chaos really registered inside his brain. All he saw was the smoke, the way the fire was licking the roof and the way the structure groaned under the intensity of the heat.

"Y/N! he screamed, his voice tearing through the noise. "Y/N!"

He reached the perimeter, nearly colliding with a captain who tried to block his path. Ace was so focused that he didn't even recognize the person in that moment. "You can't go in there, son! The structure is unstable! There was a gas explosion inside!"

"My girlfriend is in there!" Ace roared. His expression was one of such raw desperation that the captain actually recoiled. "Get out of my way!"

He didn't wait for permission. He didn't wait for a partner. Ace just straight up plunged into the smoke.

The transition from the open air to the interior of the library was like stepping into a furnace - actually, scratch that; it was ten, no, a hundred times worse. The suffocating quiet he had noted during his first visit all these weeks ago was gone, replaced by a roar so loud it sounded like a living beast. The smell was the worst part - not the vanilla and old paper, but the acrid, chemical stench of burning plastic, melting glue, and the heavy, metallic scent of smoke.

For a second, he thought about how you might feel about all of this, how absolutely devastated you were about all your precious books being reduced to nothing but ash.

He shook his head and pulled his mask tight, the hiss of his oxygen the only thing currently keeping him grounded. He moved through the lobby as fast as he could, but his vision was heavily obscured by a thick, gray veil of smoke that clung to everything and made it hard for him to know where he was going. He felt the heat radiating through his gear, and from the pressure building around him he knew he had to find you fast.

Where are you? Where are you?

He pushed deeper into the building, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Every groan of the ceiling, every crash of falling timber sounded like a scream. He navigated by instinct and memory, going from section to section until he pushed toward the children's wing. It was the heart of the library; it was where you had first met. It was the place where you had looked at him with such kindness that he'd forgotten how to speak.

As he rounded the corner into the reading nook, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The area was a wasteland. The colorful beanbags were charred husks, and the oversized picture books were nothing more than ash floating in the air like black snow. The walls, too, were blackened, with the paint bubbling and pulling away in long, sickly strips.

And then, he saw it. A collapsed section of the ceiling had fallen, creating a barrier of heavy timber and twisted metal that seemed impossible to get through.

"Y/N!" he yelled into his mask, the sound muffled and distorted.

He began to claw at the debris, his gloved hands tearing at the hot wood and jagged stone. He didn't feel the heat searing through his palms nor the exhaustion pulling at his muscles. He only felt the void in his chest, the terrifying possibility that he was too late.

"Y/N! ARE YOU HERE?! ANSWER ME!"

With a strength born out of pure adrenaline, he shifted a heavy beam. His muscles were strained to the max and a guttural growl escaped his throat. As he cleared a gap, he saw something. A flash of red.

Your cardigan.

And then you. Finally, finally, he found you.

You were lying on the floor, partially shielded by a fallen bookshelf, your body curled into a small, fragile ball. Beside you lay another person - a teenage boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, his face streaked with soot and tears and his breathing shallow and ragged. He was clutching your hand, his eyes wide with a terror that mirrored the chaos around you.

Ace didn't hesitate. He dove through the gap, sliding across the gritty floor to reach you.

"Y/N! Oh god, Y/N!"

He reached for you, his hands trembling as he checked for a pulse. For a heartbeat - a single, agonizing second - he found nothing. His world tilted, the roar of the fire becoming a deafening silence around him.

Then, a flutter. A weak, erratic beat beneath your skin.

You gasped, a wet, hacking sound, and your eyes fluttered open. They were clouded, unfocused, but as they landed on him, a spark of recognition flickered. Even when he was completely obscured by his gear, you still somehow knew it was him.

"A… Ace?" you whispered, the sound barely audible over the crash of a nearby wall.

The relief that surged through him was so violent it felt like a physical blow. Ace let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh, pulling you against his chest with a desperation that bordered on bruising. He carefully tucked your head under his chin, shielding you from the falling ash, his body shaking with the force of his emotion.

"I've got you," he choked out, his voice wrecked but also utterly determined. "I've got you. I'm here now. You're okay. You're going to be okay."

The teenager beside you let out a loud, sobbing breath. Ace quickly checked on him too, but luckily, he didn't seem as hurt as you were. "I'm sorry," the boy murmured, "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to… I just…"

Ace looked at the boy, his eyes hardening for a split second as he heard the words, but the sight of you laying pale, coughing, and clinging to his gear in his arms extinguished any anger. He didn't have time for blame. Right now, all that mattered was getting the two of you out of this hell.

"Can you walk?" Ace asked the boy.

The teen shook his head, gesturing wildly to his leg that was currently pinned under a piece of debris.

Fuck.

Ace cursed and glanced at the ceiling. A massive piece of the roof groaned and began to tilt precariously above the three of you. The structure was giving up. You had seconds, maybe less, before the entire wing collapsed.

With a surge of adrenaline, Ace braced his shoulder against the debris pinning the boy's leg and heaved. He let out a groan of effort, the muscles in his arms bulging, until the wood shifted just enough for the boy to scramble free.

"Stay close to me!" Ace ordered. He scooped you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, and grabbed the teenager by his arm with his free hand.

The exit was blocked by a wall of flame. The way he had come in was gone, replaced by a curtain of orange flames that licked the ceiling.

"This way!" Ace yelled, remembering a secondary service corridor he'd seen on the floor plan during his first visit.

He ran. He ran through the smoke and the heat, his lungs burning even through the mask. He could feel you shivering and coughing against him, your breath only coming in short gasps. Every step felt like a gamble and every crash behind him sounded like the building trying to swallow all three of you whole.

As you all neared the service exit, a sudden, violent tremor shook the floor. A backdraft exploded in the hallway ahead, a wave of fire that slammed into you with the force of a freight train.

Ace didn't let go. He pushed the boy behind him and clutched you tighter against his chest, twisting his body and shielding you two with his own back, taking the brunt of the heat. He felt the fabric of his gear singe, felt the searing pain of the heat blistering some of his skin on his shoulder, but he didn't falter. He pushed through the flames like a madman, his boots sliding on the slick floor, until he finally saw it - the red rectangle of the exit door.

He burst through the door and collapsed onto the wet grass of the lawn, rolling away from the building just as a massive section of the library's roof caved in with a thunderous crash.

Had he been only a little too slow, all three of you would've been buried under that right now.

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the sound of Ace's ragged breaths.

For a few seconds, he didn't move. He just laid there in the grass, clutching you to his chest with his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was shaking uncontrollably as the adrenaline began to ebb, leaving behind a hollow, aching terror.

"You're okay," he whispered, over and over, like a prayer. "You're okay. You're okay."

You shifted once more in his arms before you passed out, and Ace quickly scrambled to his feet to get you and the boy to the ambulance that had finally arrived.

The hospital smelled the exact opposite of the library you loved. There was no warmth here, only the humming of the machines and the soft shuffle of nurses' shoes.

Ace hadn't left your side for three days.

He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, his hand locked firmly around yours. He looked wrecked. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a chaotic mess, and his shoulders were heavily bandaged under his t-shirt from the burns he'd sustained during the rescue.

He had barely slept, and he had barely eaten. Every time you shifted in your sleep, he was awake in a heartbeat, his gaze searching your face for any sign of pain and distress.

When you finally woke up on the third day, the first thing you saw was him.

He was staring at you, his expression one of such intense, concentrated longing that it made your heart ache. The moment your eyes opened, he sat up, his grip on your hand tightening.

"Hey," he breathed in a low, raspy rumble. "Hey, beautiful. Welcome back."

You tried to speak, but your throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. You coughed, a small, painful sound, and he was immediately there, helping you sip some water from a plastic cup.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"Like I got hit by a firetruck," you joked weakly, a small smile touching your lips.

Ace let out a shaky laugh, leaning forward to press a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead. "You scared the hell out of me, Y/N. I thought… I really thought…"

He couldn't finish the sentence. He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours, and you could feel the slight tremor in his breath.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead. "I just… I forgot my keys. I went back in, and then I saw this kid… he looked so scared."

Ace pulled back, his brow furrowing. "That kid… the police talked to him. He told them he accidentally started a fire in the storage room. He was too scared to call it in, so he tried to put it out himself until the gas pipe leaked."

You nodded slowly, the memories coming back in fragmented, vivid flashes. The smell of the gas. The sudden, earth-shaking roar of the explosion. The way the world had turned upside down.

"I almost didn't make it," you murmured.

"Ace's expression darkened, a flash of that protective intensity returning to his eyes. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

You looked at him, your gaze softening. "Ace… you saved my life. But not just at the end…"

He blinked. Okay, now he was a little confused. "What do you mean?"

You let out a soft, wheezing giggle, clutching his hand. "Remember a few weeks ago? When we were watching that TV show? The one about the firefighters that made absolutely no sense?"

Ace groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh god, that show. It was an insult to the entire profession."

"Exactly," you smiled. "And you spent an hour explaining to me why it was wrong. You told me exactly what to do if I ever found myself in a fire. You told me that smoke rises, so I had to stay low. You told me to keep one hand on the wall to find the exit. You told me to feel the doors with the back of my hand before opening them to see if they were hot."

Ace stared at you, the realization slowly sinking in. Right, he did do that.

"When the explosion happened," you continued, your voice growing stronger with each word, "everything went black. I couldn't see anything. I was terrified, and the kid was panicking, screaming that we were going to die. But then I remembered your voice. I remembered you telling me that the smoke is the real killer. So I grabbed him. I forced him to crawl with me and keep his face close to the floor."

Ace's grip on your hand tightened, his eyes shimmering. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with an emotion that transcended words.

Ace looked away, his shoulders shaking. You could hear him sniffling and desperately trying to stay cool in front of you, which made you crack a smile despite everything that had happened.

"I can't believe you remembered all of this," he choked out eventually. "I just… I was just complaining about a stupid TV show."

"And that saved my life," you whispered, leaning over as much as the monitors would allow to wrap your arms around his neck. "You're my hero, Ace. In every single way."

He pulled back, his face tear-streaked and red, but his eyes were full of devotion that was almost frightening in its intensity. He leaned in and kissed you, but not the desperate kind like the one you had shared on the first date. No, this one was slow, deep, and profoundly tender. You could taste the salt from his tears on his lips, and you both silently promised to yourselves that neither of you would ever take a single second for granted again.

"I love you," he murmured against his lips, the words finally breaking free. "I think… I think I really do. Like, so much that it hurts me."

You smiled, closing your eyes and soaking in the warmth of him. "I love you too, Ace."

Later, you would cry in his arms about all the books you loved being gone, and he would hold you through it. He knew how upset this made you, but if he was being honest, all he cared about was that you were safe.

Two weeks later, the library began the long process of rebuilding.

The community had rallied, donating books and funds to restore the beloved place full of stories. The teenager had been given a stern talking-to and a significant amount of community service, though he had spent several of those hours helping the librarians sort through the salvaged archives.

Ace and you stood together in the parking lot, watching the construction crews work. You were still leaning on a cane, your lungs recovering from the smoke inhalation, but you were home.

He was wearing his navy polo again, the one he had worn on your first date. He had his arm draped firmly around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as if he still feared you might vanish if he let go.

"You know," Ace said, a playful grin spreading on his handsome face. "I think this means I get to be the official safety consultant for the library. I can give workshops. How to Not Die in a Library Fire 101 by Ace the Firefighter."

You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. "This sounds like an excuse to visit the library during your work hours. I think you've had enough consulting for one year, Ace."

"Aw, come on! I've got great material now!

As you looked at the skeleton of the building, your heart still felt heavy, but you were no longer as devastated as when you first woke up. Still, the sight before you wasn't pretty, and it tore at your heart greatly.

Ace stopped walking and turned to you, his expression softening as he saw the look in your eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, weathered slim volume - the same book he had read for your first date.

"I found this in the salvage pile," he said, handing it to you. The cover was scorched, the edges curled and blackened by the heat, but the pages were still intact. "One of your colleagues said it was a miracle it survived."

You took the book, tracing the charred edges with your fingers. You opened it to a random page and found one of his old notes, written in that messy, hurried scrawl you immediately recognized.

This part reminds me of the way Y/N looks when she's explaining things. She gets this little frown between her eyebrows. It's really cute.

You looked up at him and smiled.

Ace grinned down at you, that bright, slightly goofy smile that always made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down, kissing you deeply under the afternoon sun.

"So," he murmured, pulling back just an inch. "What's the next book on the list? Because I'm feeling very motivated to read."

"You? What have you done to my boyfriend?" you laughed, clutching the scorched book to your chest. When you saw him pout, you playfully rolled your eyes and patted his arm. "Okay, okay. I think I can find something you'll like."

"Good," he whispered and pulled you closer again. "As long as it isn't boring. I've grown as a reader, Y/N. I'm a sophisticated literary man now."

You didn't mention that he probably didn't even know how to spell sophisticated.

He grinned. “Have a little faith in me. I can manage one conversation on my own.”

“Please use the help,” Beckman said beside you. “It’s considerably less embarrassing for the rest of us. Requires less alcohol too.”

“You’re not going to like my idea for this one then,” you warned him.

He sighed and looked toward the exit, contemplating if he needed another smoke despite having walked in less than a minute ago.

“There’s a spare booth in the corner,” Hongo said. “We can move there and leave these two to scheme.”

You rolled your eyes at them before you turned to your captain. “I think we need to use the pity card.”

Shanks gestured to his missing arm. “I try it but most of them don’t bite.”

“Not the arm,” you said. “That’s way too obvious. Lucky, swap places with me?”

You dropped down next to Shanks and immediately shuffled closer so you were sitting again to him. You draped his arm purposefully over your shoulder and adjusted yourself a few times to make sure it looked comfortable. Shanks’ grin only grew wider as you did so. He was very malleable which made this much easier.  

Beckman raised an eyebrow at you. “And this is supposed to help?”

“It will,” you said. “Alright, we’re dating.”

“Okay,” Shanks said immediately and he squeezed you against him.

“No,” you protested. “You’re miserable in this relationship. I’m an absolute bitch and I’m going to break up with you by the end of the night. Then you can go and console yourself somewhere warm.”

Shanks moved his arm from your shoulders to grab his drink. “No way that’s going to work.”

“Trust me. She’s only going to be interested in a one-night thing and rebound sex is perfect for that. And she’ll feel bad for you.”

“This is ridiculous,” Beckman informed you.

“It’ll work. Can you order me a drink, captain?”

Shanks tilted his head to the side. “Would you really call me that if we were together? It feels a little formal.”

“We’re not fake dating yet. Be patient.”

“If this works, I’ll pay for a round,” Limejuice said with a small, disbelieving chuckle.

“Two for me,” you said. “Seeing as it’s my idea.”

“Deal.”

She brought over the first round with a pleasant, customer-perfected smile. If she even noticed Shanks more than a passing glance, it was impressive. But the second she put a drink in front of you, you made a show of wrinkling your nose.

“Are you serious?” you asked him, voice sharper than it had ever been toward your captain. “Why did you buy me this? This is my usual. I didn’t want my usual.”

Shanks almost immediately ruined it by smiling as though it was a game. He managed to wrangle the expression after a minute. “I’m sorry?”

You pushed the drink away from you and rolled your eyes. “I wanted to try something new. How do you even know what types of drinks I like anyway? That’s so fucking creepy.”

The woman was giving you a very confused look. She glanced to the arm on your shoulders and seemed to be debating whether to take the drink back or leave the situation to play itself out. You tried not to look at her but it was difficult considering your crew had awful poker faces.

Yasopp brought his hand up to cover his mouth, barely managing to conceal his laughter with a cough.

“Okay, okay,” Shanks said as though he meant to soothe an irritable animal. He did not sound even vaguely as affronted as you needed him too. “Why don’t you choose something else and I’ll get it for you.”

You turned your glare on him. “I don’t want anything else. My night has already been ruined.” You shrugged his arm off and had to fight not to return his very easy, very unoffended smile. “Why do you always do this? Try and make up for your mistakes with gifts and crap I don’t want?”

Hongo snorted and you elbowed him. That made him laugh harder.

It was too early in the evening to storm off though so you crossed your arms and settled for a sulk against the booth. Shanks asked for another drink and the woman’s expression turned incredibly sympathetic as she hurried off.

You waited until she was far enough away before you beamed proudly.

“Working already,” you said.

You picked up the drink he’d ordered for you and glanced over to make sure she wasn’t looking before you drank. He knew your usual order. It was exactly what you had wanted and you’d been silently hoping she wouldn’t take it back.

“You’re awfully good at this,” Yasopp commented.

“You’re all terrible,” you huffed. You looked toward Shanks. “You need to stop smiling like this is funny. You’re trying to get pity, not convince her you’re a masochist.”

“But it is funny,” he argued. “I didn’t know you could be so rude.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s the whole point of you being my soon-to-be ex. Which is going to be really hard to commit to if you’re all laughing.”

“She hasn’t been rude once,” Beckman commented. “Both the things she said were compliments.”

“I know. If I was making him sound bad, she wouldn’t be interested. You’ll see.”

“There’s more of this?”

You nodded sincerely. “Of course there’s more to it. She’s not going to want to be with him if she thinks he’s cheating. So, I need to storm out of here and he needs to go mope. But I’m also not returning to the ship alone so…”

“So this is a whole night thing?” Lucky Roux asked.

“Exactly.”

“Brilliant,” Shanks agreed and downed his drink.

He really was the weakest link in this performance. You could see it.

The waitress seemed almost nervous to place the drink in front of you when she returned and you sighed very dramatically but took it.

“Men,” you muttered under your breath.

She gave you the closest thing she could get to a sympathetic smile while also appearing slightly unnerved by you.

Yasopp took full advantage of the situation. He leaned across and took your favoured drink from in front of you while Limejuice spoke to the waitress. Shanks removed it from him before he could drink it, moving it back in front of you without even looking.

“This is blatant favouritism,” Yasopp said. “She said she didn’t want it and she has a new one.”

“She might change her mind,” Shanks offered.

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to always take my side with everything. It’s embarrassing. I’m an adult.”

“See,” Yasopp said.

You still moved the drink closer to you, shooting a rude gesture toward him. Shanks smiled at you and you narrowed your eyes in response.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All warm and nice. It annoys me.”

“It’s out of love.”

You almost facepalmed. That was the opposite of what you needed him to say. The mistreated boyfriend thing was already failing. Impressive because you knew he could really make the wet, pathetic man look work when he wanted to.

It just seemed tonight his acting skills had disappeared.

Beckman sighed deeply on the other side of the table as the waitress left. “I actually think this might be worse than the usual attempts.”

“It’s way worse,” Limejuice agreed but he looked one comment away from laughing.

“Because our captain is making this very hard,” you pointed out.

“I thought I was meant to be dating you,” Shanks said and his arm settled around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Nobody’s going to buy it if you’re complaining the whole time. There has to be some affection in there too.”

“No,” you said. “That’s literally the point.”

“You’re not trying to convince the room at large,” Hongo pointed out.

“Thankfully,” Beckman muttered.

Yasopp leaned across the table toward you. “What are you thinking for the big breakup?” he asked. “Screaming match?”

You thought about it for a second before you looked up to Shanks. “Why do you think we would break up? I need something believable but that still paints you in a good light.”

“You’ll get one or the other,” Limejuice told you.

Shanks drummed his fingers against your shoulder as he thought about it. You picked up your original drink and looked around the tavern. Nobody here was interesting enough that you could lean into the ‘fine, I’ll go find somebody else’ play. Not that you really wanted to either way.

“Can’t think of anything,” he said. “Ah well. Nothing to it. Guess you’re stuck here.”

Not helpful. You looked up to him and he smiled as though he wasn’t thwarting your entire plan. This is why you had stopped helping him get laid ages ago. He always sabotaged it.

“I’ll figure something out,” you said. “Then I’ll storm off and meet you guys back on the Red Force.”

“You shouldn’t be walking this area by yourself,” Shanks mentioned. “Couple of people have been glancing in this direction. Beck can take you back.”

“I have a weapon.”

“Still. Just to be safe.”

“We’ll all go back together,” Beckman said. “You can stay if this ridiculous plan works out but we’re leaving early tomorrow and I’m not collecting everyone in the morning.”

“If somebody gets left behind, it’s probably going to be Yasopp,” you said.

“What? Why me?!”

You picked up the drink he’d tried to steal from you and took a very pointed sip from it. “Just a hunch.”

While he huffed about that, you settled into the leather booth, body slotting easily against Shanks’ side. It was far more comfortable than it should have been. And if you focused, you could easily ignore the way the proximity made your heart misfire.

There was no lie easy enough to swallow surrounding the true reason. So, you didn’t bother to try.

“I was left behind once,” Shanks mentioned. “Hardly the worst thing.”

“Most peaceful hours of my life,” Beckman said.

“And here I thought that would be before you met us,” you mentioned.

“I’ve known you lot for long enough that I’ve forgotten what it was like before then.”

“Boring,” Shanks volunteered.

You chuckled and looked toward the waitress. She should be bringing over whatever Limejuice had asked for soon but you’d entirely failed to think of any further complaints surrounding Shanks at the moment.

So you sat up.

You reached for his hair to try and pull some forward. He leaned closer to you to allow you to mess with the locks although granted, they were rarely perfectly tamed anyway.

“What are we doing now?” he asked. “Are you trying to imply we found somewhere quiet?”

You pushed his shoulder lightly in reprimand. “No. I’m trying to imitate that pathetic look you get sometimes when you’re really drunk.”

“Pathetic?” he repeated.

You met his eyes and for a second, the fingers threading through his hair paused before you got back onto task. “You look really sad,” you explained. “And seeing as you plan on ruining my idea by smiling constantly, I need to use everything in my arsenal.”

“Can’t fault me for it,” he said. “But come on, I don’t have a sad drunk look.”

Confirmations came from everybody at the exact same time which succeeded in making Shanks laugh, tipping his head away from you. You should have complained about your work but it was easier to join in. There was no way you could successfully replicate it without buying him half of the bar.

And after that he probably wouldn’t go home with her. You’d have to listen to him mumbling when he inevitably passed out on your chest. Which would be a massive failure.

She arrived not long after and you pushed Shanks’ arm off your shoulders with a grumble about him being far too warm.

This plan was starting to annoy you a bit much.

The constant shifts between comfortable warmth and the air of the tavern were beginning to get under your skin. But you still didn’t have an idea for the breakup which meant you had to persist through it.

And persist you did, if unhappily so.

Right until Beckman got everyone to pay.

You didn’t stand immediately. “The rest of you can go ahead,” you said. “Just got to finish the whole act.”

Shanks grinned at you. “I still don’t know if this will work.”

“Trust me, it will,” you promised as the woman came over to collect the beri.

She kept glancing toward him, attention hovering briefly on you as she did so. You rolled your eyes and tried to give her a mildly disgruntled look while the others filed from the booth and began to make their way toward the exit.

Everybody had been pretty well behaved that evening and you couldn’t help but feel it was at least partially because they all wanted to see how this would end up going.

“This was the worst night ever,” you complained, trying to look like you didn’t want to follow the rest of the crew home. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here with your stupid smile and pretty words. I’m so tired of having to do this all the time.”

Shanks still wasn’t helping. The messy hair had been a fatal error on your part. Your heart was stuck as he looked at you through the strands.

“I’m sorry,” he said and he still sounded far too affectionate to play the role of a man being badgered by his partner for nothing. “I’ll make it up to you with a better night out.”

“No,” you insisted. “I don’t want another night. I’m tired of you constantly trying to look after me. Just let me decide when I want to do something.”

That sounded awkward. You could hear it sounded wrong.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem the other woman had felt the same way. She kept giving him sympathetic, pitying looks as though she had just noticed your captain was unfairly handsome. Took her long enough.

You stood from the table and straightened your clothes. Shanks moved as though to join you and you pointed at him.

“Don’t follow me,” you said. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

It hurt a little more than you had thought it would. It shouldn’t have and yet it stung at your chest. You tried to ignore it.

His smile faltered for barely a second before returning, easier and brighter than before. If you had not been staring directly at him, you might have missed it.

“Would you stop?” you asked.

“Stop what?”

“I just said we shouldn’t see each other anymore and you’re grinning like you won a prize. Do I really mean so little to you?”

That didn’t sound too flattering on his side of things. But he opened his mouth to respond and you already knew he was about to make it so much worse. You spun on your heel and marched from the tavern without waiting.

The rest of the crew stood together at the corner of the street and by the time you joined, you knew your expression was annoyed.

Although whether you were annoyed about him ruining the plan or about having to leave in general, you couldn’t really tell. And you didn’t care to think about it for much longer.

“Is she interested?” Beckman asked.

You nodded, trying hard enough to look casual that you probably achieved the opposite. “She is. I’m sure we’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Joyful.”

“Are you going to be in a mood for the rest of the night then?” Yasopp asked. “Like you always are when he goes home with a woman?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled far too suspiciously and you were halfway through your answering rebuttal when Beckman looked past your shoulder. “Guess not.”

“What?”

You looked back to find Shanks stepping through the entrance of the tavern, very much alone. His hair was still mussed from your attempts at making him look sadder but his smile was very relaxed. He strolled over lazily like he had nowhere else to be and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Don’t tell me I did all of that and you still managed to mess it up,” you complained as he got closer.

He looked far too pleased with himself. “Tried my hardest.”

Yasopp laughed. “I told you it wouldn’t work. Do you know what probably ruined it? That whole expression you shot at her toward the end. It was basically a threat.”

“What are you talking about?” you countered. “That’s not the expression I was going for. I more wanted a ‘don’t waste your time’ look.”

Lucky Roux snorted. “You missed that by a mile.”

Oops. You hadn’t meant to be that transparent about it. You shrugged. “Whatever. Even if she thought that, it’s not going to change the whole breakup and sad look I gave you. How did you possibly mess that part up?”

Shanks wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The familiar warmth relaxed some of your stress even though it shouldn’t have.

“Don’t worry, your plan worked perfectly. I just declined.”

“You did what?” you complained. “I embarrassed myself the whole evening and you just said no?”

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

You groaned and tipped your head to the side so it was resting against him. “I’m never committing this hard to a plan for you again.”

“If only I could believe that,” Beckman sighed.

It turned out to be a lie within the first week when you realised Shanks and you made very good exes. And being in a fake relationship with him could be more beneficial than you thought.

Somebody was being unnecessarily persistent when it came to you?

Well, it was impressive how quickly they disappeared when you spoke about your ex-boyfriend who just so happened to be an emperor. All their interest gone the moment you looked over to Shanks and smiled and he returned the grin.

He didn’t even need to move from wherever he was. He’d just meet your eyes and that would be enough to chase whatever annoyance was bothering you.

So you had an easy way out of situations without a fight.

And it did work unfortunately well for its original purpose too.

Something you learned when you wound up in a market. One considerably nicer than the ones your crew more often frequented.

Stalls lined the edges of the square, stocked with foods and curiosities. The late afternoon warmth still clung to the stone beneath your boots, softened by the occasional breeze carrying spice, sugar and something frying in oil through the crowd. People wandered between merchants without any particular urgency, voices folding easily beneath the gentle music drifting from somewhere you couldn’t quite place.

It was the sort of market that encouraged lingering. Unfortunately, your crew had never needed much encouragement.

“Thank you,” you said to the merchant as she finished writing down your drink orders and stepped away to prepare them.

You moved to Yasopp, Hongo, and Lucky Roux and nodded. “There. That’s my card debt cleared,” you said. “But I’m not carrying everything back. The last time that ended with my clothing soaked through.”

“Don’t look now, but I think somebody’s interested in your ‘ex’,” Yasopp mentioned, his voice loud enough to carry through the rattle of ice in the shaker behind you.  

You frowned and looked over his shoulder to find a group of women who were looking toward the table you’d left Shanks and Beckman at. Their attention was undeniable.

And the moment they heard Yasopp speak, they looked curiously toward you.

One of the women waved apologetically. “Sorry, you’re part of the Red Hair Pirates, right?”

They were very much Shanks’ type. Beautiful enough that he didn’t have to flounder for compliments and clearly intrigued by the concept of pirates in general. One of them was even sneaking glances toward Hongo.

“Guilty as charged,” Yasopp said.

“Don’t bother with these three,” you said. “They’re not worth the time.”

The women giggled to themselves as your crew gave you insulted looks. Served them right for beating you at cards the night before.

“That’s because you have very specific taste,” Hongo commented.

“Red hair only?” Yasopp asked.

You shook your head. Of course this turned into another conversation about that. But before you could offer your denial, one of the women put the two comments together and looked toward Shanks before looking back at you.

“Wait, your ex is Red Hair Shanks?”

You were going to kill Yasopp.

It was the perfect opportunity to prove once again how easily the upset ex game would work. And they were the type that Shanks would never turn down.

So you nodded and stepped away from the rest of your crew toward the group of women. They made space for you in their circle without asking.

“Unfortunately,” you said.

There was little need to fake the annoyance from you. Something about the situation was irritating enough to creep under your skin. They didn’t look like they were meaning anything by their interest.

That made it worse.

“Why are you no longer together?” the blonde asked.

“Probably because he’s a pirate,” another offered. “I can’t imagine any of them are loyal. No offense.”

You smiled, a little placated by their genuine friendliness. “None taken. But I wish it was that easy. He’s overbearingly loyal.”

“Really?”

“Annoyingly so. Every day, it’s a constant barrage of questions on if you’re okay, what you’re going to be doing, if you need any help. It’s basically nagging at that point. And when you’re trying to talk to somebody else, he’s staring at you constantly.”

“Like he’s doing right now?” one of the women asked.

You looked over your shoulder to find Shanks’ gaze was indeed locked on you. He nodded toward the seat next to him and you gestured toward the group you were with.

“See.”

They all looked appropriately interested by your acknowledgement. A few waved at him in greeting and you didn’t even need to try to look jaded.

“It was one of the reasons we broke up,” you said. “He was just too clingy.”

Behind you, you heard Hongo laugh. You wondered if you could throw something over your shoulder and still hit them. Weren’t these three meant to be joining the rest of the crew?

“I have to admit, I wouldn’t complain if a man who looked like that wanted to be near me all the time,” the blonde said although upon meeting your eyes, she hurried to correct herself, “but I do understand it can get a bit much.”

“That’s another problem,” you said. “He’s far too handsome and he knows it. Uses those good looks to get whatever he wants.”

“Now that one I can see.”

An arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Okay, we could stand here for hours and listen to you ‘complain’ about Shanks,” Yasopp said, “but the ice in your drink is melting. Come on.”

You shrugged him off immediately and took your drink, nodding to the women. They waved you goodbye and you gave your crew a warning look. They only made it a few steps before they all started laughing.

Shanks moved the chair next to him out as you approached and you purposefully sat across from him. His hand stayed on the back of the empty chair for a second before he let it go. He did not comment on your choice.

“We’re exes again,” you told him.

“Oh? What have we broken up from this time?”

“You’re too good looking apparently,” Yasopp chuckled.

You answered that by driving your boot into his ankle as he sat down. He yelped and shuffled away from you but you’d got the hit off. Good. You’d worked out that two drinks in was about when Yasopp stopped bothering to dodge.

“That doesn’t seem like a reason to break up,” Shanks mentioned.

“Entire group over there’s interested in you,” you said. “You have your pick if you want. What else was there to say? You always have sand on your cloak?”

“Would be a more believable reason,” Limejuice commented.

You ignored them because your plan worked.

Mostly.

Shanks stayed at the table and never ventured far enough from the crew for any of the women to even speak to him. But still, their attention didn’t move from him until the market had already begun to close.

Which was a victory that you didn’t care to think about.

Not until the cover came up again during a celebration some weeks later.

It was one of your favourite types of evenings.

The music wasn’t too loud, there were just enough people for it to feel lively, and the crew had arrived on the back of a successful raid against a passing Marine vessel. You had money for good drinks and adrenaline still shifting pleasantly through your veins.

The tavern itself wasn’t anything special. The floorboards stuck beneath your boots in places, the tables were scarred from years of spilled drinks and worse decisions, and you doubted there was another drinking hole anywhere nearby. As the evening dragged on, more people squeezed inside until chairs became valuable and seating turned into a suggestion for anybody who had not arrived early enough.

Shanks and Beckman had a table to themselves but you purposefully found your way closer to the rest of the crew.

Your heart had been struggling a bit too much lately. It would be good to take a break from the efforts.

And unfortunately for Shanks, his company alone required a certain effort to act normal with.

“Captain’s looking for you,” Yasopp said halfway through your conversation with Hongo. “He’s giving you that look again.”

You turned your head to find him. Shanks hadn’t moved from his table but now there was a third person with them. A woman. You couldn’t see much from this distance but she looked sweet enough to be his style.

He met your gaze and his eyes cut toward her quickly. A plea of some sort.

She looked interested enough without your help. You smiled and turned back to the rest of the crew.

“He has that,” you said. “He’s picked up women in weirder places.”

“I think he wants your help with getting rid of her actually,” Limejuice mentioned.

“Oh, does he? Heartbreaking.” You shrugged. “What would I do about that? I think he’s more than able to come up with an excuse.”

“You can play the crazy ex role again,” Yasopp said with a chuckle. “Go over there and scare her off by telling her how amazing he is and how deeply in love with him you are.”

You hit his shoulder, harder than you should have but not enough that you felt bad about it despite how he jumped.

“Shut up. That’s not what I do.”

“No, that’s exactly what you do,” Limejuice said and stepped out of your range. “It’s basically a love confession every time. He’s so sweet and so nice and handsome.” He pitched his voice higher in imitation.

“Boosts his ego something ridiculous,” Hongo commented.

You crossed your arms and glared at your crew. “I hope you all know that the crazy ex thing is meant to help him pick up women. I can’t exactly go out there and tell them…”

You trailed off.

“Struggling to think of an insult there?” Yasopp taunted. “How about you tell him that his voice is too soothing again? And it puts you to sleep. That one was the sharpest jab I’ve ever heard in all my years on the sea.”

“He’ll never recover from being told he’s too handsome and it pisses her off.”

You rolled your eyes. They were being ridiculous. Was it that hard to realise you were trying to increase his chances of going home with women? Not give them reasons not to?

“Fine,” you said. “If you want me to be a crazier ex, I can be a crazier ex.”

“Just remember to tell him how great of a lover he is,” Limejuice called after you.

You muttered curses at all of them, shoved your drink into Hongo’s chest and turned on your heel. This situation would actually call for something more insulting. Because you were going to try and convince this woman he wasn’t worth the effort so you’d need…

You met Shanks’ eyes and he smiled in appreciation for your path over. Which immediately knocked half of the ideas out of your mind.

Great.

It wasn’t easy to stay annoyed even with the other woman at his table. Beckman stood at your approach and walked away, clearly not interested in staying for this.

You took his seat immediately.

The poor woman across from you frowned when you sat down, clearly not having expected your sudden arrival. You tried to remember that you weren’t actually annoyed at her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by flirting with a pirate captain.

So you stopped looking at her and instead looked at Shanks. You didn’t say anything, just raised your eyebrow.

“Hello, love,” he said, far too quick to settle into this game.

The word landed warmer than it had any right to. You ignored that too.

You crossed your arms. “I hope you have an explanation ready.”

The annoyance that bled into your voice surprised even you. He also hadn’t expected it and you saw interest flash over his expression for a second. You didn’t want to think about why you were so irritated.

So, you blamed Yasopp and called it the end.

The woman at the table looked between you and Shanks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Is this very important? We were talking.”

“By all means, continue,” you said, trying to wrestle your tone into something more controlled and failing. “It seems that a charming smile is enough of an answer.”

Shanks’ smirk only grew wider and you realised bitterly that Yasopp might have had a point. You needed something considerably ruder than that if you were trying to scare somebody off but your thoughts struggled to grab anything.

“I’m not trying to answer any questions,” he said innocently. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join us.”

You looked toward the other woman and chose to ignore him. “Look, if I can give you one hint,” you said. “You don’t want to get involved with this.”

She blinked at you in confusion before she glanced toward Shanks again. “What do you mean…? Are you two…?”

You rolled your eyes. “Once. Worst choice I’ve ever made.”

Part of you didn’t know what to expect and you were hoping for somebody more focused on him that would let you just lean into the jealousy side. Instead, she lowered her voice as though Shanks wasn’t there.

“What do you mean?”

Shit. Now you had to think of actual reasons.

Which you had none of.

“You know how pirates are,” you said, hedging as close as you could toward safety. “None of them are worth the effort. They’ve only got their good looks and confidence. There’s almost nothing else there.”

She hummed. “For one night, do you need much more?”

You hated this much more than you cared to say. Because she had a point. A good point. And Shanks could definitely hear this conversation even if he was pretending to look elsewhere and let the women talk it out.

“Maybe not but... he’s irritating.”

“I’m sure I can survive that.”

“Extremely irritating.”

She stared at you as though genuinely confused and you had to consider that that wasn’t really a reason not to sleep with your captain.

You had to bite your tongue before something else slipped free. Did you really struggle this badly to insult him? Even when you specifically were meant to be doing that? It was Shanks. There were like a thousand things you should be able to see as flaws.

Like the fact he… the way he…

You turned away from the woman to glare at Shanks instead. “You’re so annoying.”

He startled at the genuine bite to your tone. “What?”

You stood up from the table and left. A genuinely concerned voice called your name from the direction of the rest of the crew but you ignored them too.

This was such a stupid problem to have. A ridiculous problem caused by a ridiculous man who even managed to be a good fake ex as well as everything else. Who even did that?

The Red Force waited for you at the harbour, dark and familiar against the water. She almost seemed judgemental as you approached and you paused long enough to glare up at her hull. She had no room to judge you for anything when she had brought the insufferable man to your doorstep in the first place.

Nobody else was aboard. Nobody had bothered staying behind to watch her tonight. In a town like this, Shanks’ reputation did most of the work.

The quiet was welcome after the tavern. You dropped into your favourite hammock in the dining hall and stared through the windows. The ship rocked gently beneath you, water thumping steadily against the hull. You closed your eyes and just listened. Listened to the groan of the boards above you and the cries of the gulls beyond and the creak of the door as it opened.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“On my own ship?”

You opened one eye to glare at him. “I can go and sulk elsewhere if you prefer but you have a party to get to.”

Shanks wasn’t smiling anymore. His expression had gone quieter as he approached, thoughtful enough that some of your irritation lost its footing.

“So,” he said. “That last one felt real.”

“It was,” you said. “You are annoying. I don’t think this is a big revelation.”

He tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. “It’s not. You’re hardly the first person to tell me that either but that was more personal than usual. Almost sounded like you had another reason behind it.”

“The others were getting under my skin,” you admitted. “Probably made me sound more on edge than I meant to.”

“They said the same thing when I asked.”

“Mm. Why did you need me to get rid of that woman anyway?” you asked, mind making your tongue a little looser than it should have been. “You’ve never struggled to get rid of them on your own before.”

He chuckled softly. “It was a bit of an excuse.”

“For what?”

“You looked annoyed,” he said. “Thought you might like to do something fun.”

You had been annoyed. You’d been annoyed because your silly little attempt at being his wingman shouldn’t have revealed anything near the level it had. Not to everybody else on the crew.

“Also, I think that’s the first real insult you’ve given me,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“No, it definitely is.”

“I’ve called you irritating too.”

“Annoying and irritating mean the same thing,” he said. “So, I’m counting them both as one. It’s impressive considering we’re meant to have a whole breakup history.”

You hated how observational he was sometimes. Despised it with your very core. He was meant to be relaxing and enjoying the attention and not noticing how few of your complaints were true.  

“We do have a whole breakup history,” you muttered. “We’ve broken up three times now from our fake relationship.”

“And yet you still can’t think of one actual problem?”

“Maybe you should consider getting more flaws then,” you challenged. “Maybe then it would be easier to find reasons why somebody shouldn’t date you.”

“I have plenty. Beck probably has a list somewhere.”

“Actual, usual flaws,” you complained. “Being a bad actor when it comes to our fake breakups isn’t one I can use.”

He laughed and leaned back in the chair. “I’m not trying too hard. Mostly because I don’t like the idea as a whole. Hard to commit to something like that.”

He didn’t enjoy it? You sat up properly now, swinging both your legs out of the hammock so you could stare at him. There was sand on his cloak and your eyes lingered on it for a second before you could focus again. On his hair falling across his face and the easy grin that somehow dismantled your entire defence.

“If you don’t like it, why have you let me do it three times now?” you asked.

“Oh, I enjoyed the fake dating part of it,” he said. “So I figured I could put up with the fake breakup part if it meant I got more of the rest.”

“The breakup was the point,” you pointed out.

“Maybe. It was a good plan,” he said. “A few months ago, I wouldn’t have minded the whole thing but I’ve changed my mind on plenty since then.”

“It worked.”

“Did it? Because in my mind, I was supposed to end up taking somebody else home and well… three times now and it hasn’t happened once.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you keep turning them down when you’re at the finish line.”

He grinned innocently. “Absolute mystery why.”

“Shanks…”

“Yes?”

You stared at him for a few seconds, trying to gather your thoughts together before you just sighed. There was no point. You didn’t enjoy the game either so there was no point in continuing to force yourself to do so.

“Alright,” you said. “We won’t use it anymore. No more fake breakups.”

He nodded solemnly. “And no more fake dating.”

“That goes with the fake breakups.”

“The fake ones were pretty bad anyway. And you can’t seem to talk anyone out of wanting me, and I’ve stopped wanting anyone else. Seems like we’re running out of excuses.”

Your brain stumbled. For a second, you swore even the ocean outside stopped swaying as you stared blankly at Shanks. His expression betrayed nothing about what he just said. Gave you little to help your brain move through.

You stood from the hammock very slowly. “I’m sorry?”

He shrugged as though he’d said something about the weather. “You’re the one who couldn’t find a single reason not to date me. I’m sure if you asked any other woman, they could rattle off countless. I drink too much –”

“Only when we’re all having fun.”

“I’m obnoxious.”

“Beckman calls you that. I disagree.”

“I’m pretty carefree about most things.”

“Let somebody threaten this ship or the people on it and see how quickly that changes.”

“I don’t notice I’ve fallen for a woman until she pretends to break up with me.”

“You… I’m sorry?”

He actually laughed then. “You were ready to defend me on that without even realising what I said.”

You had been planning on it. Before the comment had fully registered in your mind, you had already been ready to find the flaw in his logic. The realisation felt almost distant from your own mind before you breathed out through your nose.

“You’re bad at lying,” you finally said. “That’s a flaw.”

“Not when I want to,” he said. “I don’t need to here. And as much as you complain that I’m a bad actor, you were worse.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve offered me a crazy ex and then just behaved mildly annoyed at everything,” he said.

You crossed your arms because you thought you had been a damn fine actor. “It’s not my fault when I have such little material to work with. I can’t complain about you being bad at relationships when you’re remembering what I drink and putting your cloak over my shoulders.”

“I’m sure you could have found something.”

“I tried.”

“Then that just proves my point better,” he said. “If there’s nothing you can think of about why we shouldn’t be together then…”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again. Stared at him for far too long while every part of the conversation caught up to you all at once.

Shanks moved closer, fingers lightly brushing over your wrist as you tried to put your thoughts and words together. He lifted your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he patiently waited for an answer he already knew.

Because it would be impossible to deny.

The problem had never been finding reasons somebody would want him. It was pretending you weren’t somebody who did.

“I’m never going to live this down,” you finally said. “My reputation is ruined.”

He chuckled. “They’ll probably find something else to tease you over.”

“I don’t even know when I fell for you,” you admitted. “You’re just… you. There’s no difference between what I think about you now and what I did when we first met.”

That infuriatingly smug smile was back on his face. “That’s probably more of a confession than you think it is.”

“I know.”

“So,” he said. “We have a deal then? No more fake exes.”

“No more exes,” you said. “Fake or not.”

“Well, I can’t promise that because I know several women who –”

You pushed his shoulder and laughed. “Not what I meant.”

He laughed with you. “I know.”

“You’re annoying,” you repeated.

“I’ve been told. And seeing as it’s the only true insult you can think of for me, I suppose I’m going to have to take it to heart.”

He was staring, eyes alight with expectation.

“Why do you look like you’re waiting for something?” you asked.

“I am,” he said. “But seeing as the other realisation took you so long, I’m prepared for –”

You leaned in to kiss him before he could finish. He smiled against your mouth, almost laughing before he responded. His hand settled against your waist and you shifted closer to him without thinking, following him when he moved back.

He chuckled and dropped his forehead against your own. “I was starting to think I’d have to spell that one out too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe being smug is one of your flaws.”

“Do you count it as one?”

You kissed him again before he expected you to answer that honestly.

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase ; @chaeisrichnow ; @aceidentallyinlove ; @ilovedreming ; @moon-shampoo ; @charukii 

"I've genuinely never seen him like this," Marco murmured, leaning against the doorframe of the locker room with his arms crossed over his chest.

Beside him, Thatch was practically vibrating with glee, a mischievous glint in his eyes that signaled nothing but absolute chaos. Jozu and Vista were also present, having been drawn in by the spectacle unfolding before them. They were all watching Ace, who was currently in the midst of what could only be described as a wardrobe crisis.

Ace had changed his shirt four times in the last twenty minutes. The first had been a plain black tee - too casual, he'd decided. The second was a button-down that looked like something he'd wear to a funeral - too stiff. The third was a bright red shirt that made him look like a giant cherry - too vibrant. And also kind of ugly. Currently, he was wrestling with a dark navy blue polo, staring at himself in the mirror with an expression of sheer panic.

"Does this make me look like I'm trying too hard?" Ace asked, spinning around to face them. His hair, usually a chaotic nest of black curls, had been somewhat tamed, though a few stubborn strands still defied gravity. "Be honest. Do I look like a try-hard? Because I can't look like a try-hard. But I can't look like I don't care, either. There's gotta be a balance, right? There's gotta be a middle ground between 'I just rolled out of bed' and 'I'm attending a gala'!"

Thatch barked out a loud laugh, clutching his stomach. "Ace, buddy, you usually wear a t-shirt with a hole in the armpit and call it dressing up. The fact that you're using a mirror is a miracle in itself. I think we should call the local news."

"Shut up, Thatch!" Ace snapped, though there was no real heat in it. He was too preoccupied with the collar of his shirt, tugging at it as if it were suddenly choking him.

"You look fine, Ace," Vista added with a polished smile, adjusting his own cravat. "A bit of effort goes a long way when you're trying to impress a lady. Especially a librarian. They appreciate attention to detail."

Ace groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Poor guy was only seconds away from a total breakdown. "I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a firefighter! I know how to carry a hose and break down doors. I don't know how to… date."

Marco sighed, though his expression was softened by a rare, fond smile. "Just be yourself, Ace. The version of yourself that didn't fall asleep mid-sentence in front of a group of toddlers, preferably. But now that I think about it… that's probably the version she fell for. See? You're all good, yoi. She already likes you."

Ace looked up at the older man with wide, hopeful eyes. "You think so?"

"From the way you described your first meeting a billion times, yes, yoi," Marco replied. "Now get going before you change your clothes a fifth time and she decides to cancel."

With one last frantic look in the mirror and a hasty spray of cologne that probably could have been smelled from three blocks away, Ace grabbed his keys and a specific, weathered slim volume from the bench. Then, he practically bolted out of the station, leaving the rest of the crew in a fit of laughter.

You were waiting by the front door of your apartment, checking your reflection in the hallway mirror for the tenth time. You had opted for something comfortable yet cute, a flowy skirt and soft cardigan in a beautiful red tone. You weren't nearly as nervous as Ace was, but there was a flutter in your chest that hadn't subsided since the moment he'd asked you out.

When the rumble of his engine sounded from the street, your heart did a little skip. You stepped outside just as Ace was climbing out of his truck.

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. For a second, the confident, charming firefighter from the library vanished, replaced by a man who looked like he'd entirely forgotten how to breathe. He was wearing a navy polo that hugged his shoulders and chest in all the right ways, and he smelled faintly of smoke and something crisp.

"Hi," he breathed, his voice cracking slightly from how nervous he was.

"Hi yourself," you replied with a beautiful smile on your face. "You look great, Ace."

A deep flush immediately climbed up his neck until it eventually settled in his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, that familiar nervous habit returning. "Yeah? I mean- thanks. You… you look… wow. You look amazing. Like, really amazing."

He sounded so genuine, so completely floored by your presence, that you couldn't help but giggle. As he stepped closer, you noticed he was clutching something tightly against his side.

"Is that the book?" you asked, gesturing to the volume.

Ace jumped slightly, as if he'd been caught stealing. He quickly adjusted his grip, trying to slide the book behind his leg, but it was too late. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, I read it. Like I said I would. I just… I wanted to have it on me in case we had a lull in conversation and I could… you know, bring up a specific passage. Not that I expect a lull! I'm great at talking! I mean, I'm okay at talking."

You laughed, the sound light and melodic in the evening air. Ace found himself staring at you before blushing and quickly looking away. "You're doing just fine, Ace. Let's go. I can't wait to see what you've planned."

He beamed at you, his confidence returning as he opened the passenger door for you with a flourish that was slightly too dramatic, but incredibly sweet. As you climbed in, you caught a glimpse of the book now resting on the seat. The cover was just as worn as you remembered it, but the paged looked somehow… thicker? It looked as though the book had been stuffed with slips of paper.

You didn't mention it, though. You wanted to see where the night took you.

Ace didn't take you to a fancy restaurant. Neither did he take you to a movie or a quiet gallery. Instead, he drove you to the heart of the city's night market - a sprawling, neon-lit labyrinth of food stalls, carnival games, and loud music. It was chaotic, vibrant, and smelled of various grilled meats, cinnamon sugar, and lots of perfumes mixed together.

"I figured," Ace explained as you stepped out into the throng of people, "that a quiet dinner is kind of boring. And honestly? I'm starving. I think the cookie crash from the library finally hit me a few days ago and I've been trying to make up for it ever since."

It was the most Ace date possible, so you didn't mind it. At all.

He led you by the hand with a firm and warm grip through the crowds, navigating the market with a level of energy that was infectious. He treated the food stalls like the most important mission imaginable, insisting that you try everything.

"Okay, you have to try the spicy octopus," he declared, eagerly handing you a skewer. "It's the best in the city. If you don't like it, I'll buy you a giant cotton candy. Deal?"

Slowly, you took a small bite, the heat hitting your tongue instantly. Your eyes watered, and you coughed, blindly reaching for your drink. Ace burst out laughing, a loud, boisterous sound that drew looks from the people around you, but he didn't care. He quickly handed you his water, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Told you it was spicy!" he teased, though he started looking concerned after you wouldn't stop coughing.

"You… You're a menace," you gasped, but you couldn't help the smile spreading on your face.

As the night progressed, you realized that Ace's version of a date was essentially a series of challenges where he could prove himself in front of you. He found a strength-tester machine - the kind where you hit a lever with a mallet to ring a bell - and insisted on competing, which didn't surprise you in the slightest.

"Ten bucks says I can hit the bell on the first try," he challenged. You noticed the mischievous spark in his eyes immediately.

"You're on," you replied.

Ace stepped up to the machine, and you watched with a slight blush as his muscles rippled under the fabric of his polo as he hoisted the mallet high up in the air. With a guttural shout and a swing that looked like it could have demolished a small building - okay, you were exaggerating, but only a little - he slammed the mallet down. The bell rang so loudly you jumped, the sound echoing across the market.

He turned to you, chest heaving and with a proud, toothy grin on his face. "Pay up, Librarian!"

You laughed and handed him the ten dollars, but before he could pocket it, he turned to a nearby prize booth. He spent the money on a game of ring-toss, focusing on it with an intensity that was almost comical, because he acted like this was the most important thing in the world right now. After three failed attempts and a loud groan of frustration, he finally landed a ring on a small and very adorable plush cat.

He walked back to you and pressed the stuffed animal into your arms. "Here. For the victory. Since you're so bad at the strength-tester."

"I didn't even get a turn!" you protested, hugging the plush cat to your chest.

"Exactly. You were too scared," he teased, winking at you.

By the time the crowds began to thin, you were both exhausted and incredibly full. Your feet also hurt, and so Ace found a quiet spot at the edge of the market where a small wooden pier overlooked the river. The city lights shimmered on the water surface, and the air had turned crisp by now, sending a slight chill through your cardigan.

Ace noticed immediately. Without a word, he shed his navy polo, revealing a fitted white undershirt that left very little to the imagination regarding his physique. He draped the shirt over your shoulders. The shirt was still warm from his skin and smelled strongly of him, which you liked more than you probably should have considering that this was only your first date.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly, pulling the shirt tighter around you.

Ace sat down beside you, leaning back on his elbows. The silence that settled between you was comfortable, a stark contrast to the noise of the market. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the book, holding it tentatively.

"So," he started, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register. "I read it. The book, I mean."

"You did?" you asked, tilting your head and shuffling closer to him. "I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd actually finish it if I'm being honest."

"Hey! I told you I would!" he protested, though he was still smiling. He held the book out to you, but as he did, several slips of paper fluttered out from between the pages, landing on the wooden planks of the pier.

You reached down and picked one up. It was a small piece of notebook paper, written in a messy, clearly hurried scrawl.

'Melancholy' = had to look this up, ugh, I can never let Y/N know. The dictionary says it means sad. Why is this character always so sad? Just eat a burger and get over it.

You blinked, then picked up another.

'The epiphany of the soul'… what does that even mean? Is he having a stroke?

And another, slightly different one:

This part reminds me of the way Y/N looks when she's explaining things. She gets this little frown between her eyebrows. It's really cute.

Your heart skipped a beat. You looked up at Ace, who had realized what you were reading. He lunged for the papers, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled a fire engine.

"Give those back!" he stammered, and you realized he looked both severely embarrassed and absolutely mortified. "Those aren't- I was just… I was taking notes! It's called active reading! I think…"

You held out the papers just out of his reach and laughed. "Active reading? Ace, you wrote that the main character should just eat a burger in the margins of a literary short story!"

"I was hungry! And it's a valid critique!" he shouted, though he was grinning despite himself.

You softened, looking at the notes again. You read a few more and realized just how much effort had gone into this. For someone who clearly struggled with the medium, someone who found the language alien and the pacing slow, he had pushed through it all. Just for you…

"Ace," you said quietly, your voice full of affection. "Did you… did you have a hard time reading it?"

Ace stopped struggling for the papers. He sat back, rubbing the back of his neck while his gaze drifted toward the river. He sighed, his expression turning uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Yeah," he admitted after a while. "I mean, I'm not the smartest guy. I know that. Marco or even Sabo… they're the ones who get the books. I'm the one who breaks things. Words always felt like they were slipping through my fingers, you know? I'd read a page and realize I had no idea what happened because my brain just… stopped. Books just aren't for me. They never have been."

He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours. "But I wanted to. I wanted to understand the thing you loved. And I wanted to have something to talk to you about. So I just… kept going. Even when I had to look up every third word in the dictionary."

A warm flush climbed up your neck and colored your cheeks as a sudden gloss of tears shone in your wide eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let them fall, and simply looked up at him with a bright, if not slightly overwhelmed smile. You reached out and carefully took his hand in yours. His palm was calloused and large, dwarfing your own, but his grip was gentle.

"I… wow. That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me," you whispered. "Thank you, Ace. Truly."

Ace quickly looked away, but you saw his cheeks flushing again. Regardless, he didn't pull his hand away. "Whatever. It wasn't a big deal. Besides, the part about the travel was actually kind of cool. I like the idea of just… leaving everything behind and seeing where the road goes."

"That's the reason I chose this book. I think that suits you," you said, leaning your head against his shoulder. "The adventurer spirit, I mean."

"Heh. You guessed correctly," he murmured, shifting so he could wrap an arm around you, pulling you closer into his side.

For a long time, the two of you stayed like that, watching the reflection of the city in the water. The conversation flowed easily, moving from the book to his childhood, to the stories of his brothers and the chaotic family he'd found in the firehouse. He told you about the first time he'd ever held a hose, the terror and the adrenaline in that moment, and the way he felt when he finally realized he was good at it.

You, in turn, told him about your love for the library, the way you felt when a child finally found the book that sparked their imagination, and the quiet peace you found among the stacks.

Talking to Ace was as easy as breathing, you realized. You could do this for hours and still never get enough of the man beside you.

Eventually, it was time for the date to end. As the night wound down, Ace walked you back to your apartment. The walk was slow because neither of you wanted the evening to end, but knowing this was definitely going somewhere made it at least feel better. The air got even colder, but luckily, you were still wearing his shirt, which felt like a protective cocoon.

When you reached your front door, you turned to face him. The streetlamp above cast a golden glow over his features, highlighting the freckles on his cheeks and the devoted look in his eyes.

Both of you seemed to forget everything else around you. The tension that had been building all night suddenly reached a breaking point.

Ace stopped just a few inches away from you. He was so tall that you had to tilt your head back significantly to look at him. He looked down at you, his expression full of longing, but you could also see the hesitation inside of him.

Slowly, tentatively, he started to lean in. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the scent that was so uniquely him and the night air swirling around you. His eyes flickered down to your lips and then back up to your eyes, asking a silent question you were happy to answer by closing your eyes and eagerly holding your breath.

But just as he was inches away, he stopped. He froze, and his breath hitched. You opened your eyes and looked at him confused.

Ace pulled back slightly, and just as you wanted to ask him what's wrong, you saw a look of internal conflict crossing his face. He cleared his throat, his voice sounding a bit strained.

"I… uh… I shouldn't," he mumbled, his brows furrowing. "It's the first date. I don't want to… I don't want to rush things. I want to do this right, you know? I don't want to be the guy who just jumps in without thinking. I do that enough with other things in my life…"

You stared at him for a moment, completely stunned. Was this… was this real? Was the man who had just demolished a strength-tester machine and eaten half a night market really terrified of a first kiss?

A small, amused smile spread across your face. You would be lying if you said you didn't find this incredibly endearing. He tried so hard to be a gentleman, all while his internal compass must be spinning wildly. You would kill to hear his thoughts right now.

"Ace," you whispered.

"Yeah?"

Without another word, you reached up, grabbing the collar of his white undershirt and pulling him down to your level.

Ace let out a muffled sound of surprise, but he didn't resist. When your lips finally met his, it was like a spark hitting a trail of gasoline.

The initial shock vanished instantly, swallowed by a sudden, all-consuming heat. Ace’s hands, which had been resting tensely at his sides, flew up. One hand gripped your waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, while the other tangled deeply into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the angle.

The restraint he had maintained crumbled into nothing. He parted his lips with a ragged breath, pressing into you until there was no air left between your chests. The taste of him was intoxicating, and your heart hammered violently against your ribs, matching the frantic rhythm of his. He pulled you closer, shifting his weight until you were pressed firmly against the wall behind you. The solid impact only fueled the fire. His lips moved against yours with an intense, bruising hunger, nipping softly at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with a breathless kiss that made your knees go weak.

When he finally pulled back a fraction of an inch, he rested his forehead against yours. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, hot against your skin. In the dim light, his eyes were dark, blown out with a fierce intensity, looking at you as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. He got so red it extended all the way to the tip of his ears.

"Wow," he breathed, his voice sounding completely wrecked. "Wow. Okay. I… I really liked that."

You laughed, leaning back to look at him. "You're a lot braver when you're not thinking, aren't you?"

Ace let out a shaky laugh, his grip on your waist tightening as if he were afraid you might disappear. "Shut up. I was being strategic!"

"Sure you were," you teased, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead.

Ace looked at you, his expression softening into something so full of affection it made your heart ache. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then your nose, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"I'm definitely reading the next book you recommend if this is what I get for it," he murmured against your skin, and you could feel him grinning.

"I'll hold you to that," you replied, smiling up at him.

As he finally stepped back to let you go inside, he looked like he was walking on air. He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to head back to his truck.

"Goodnight, Y/N!" he called out, his voice booming through the quiet street. "I'll call you tomorrow! Or tonight! Or just… whatever, I'll call you very soon!"

You watched him walk away. As you stepped inside and closed the door, you leaned back against the wood, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You couldn't help the big smile that spread on your lips.

You looked down at the navy polo still draped over your shoulders and smiled.

He laughed as he winked at Doris and Louise, you were well aware of Roger beaming with pride at seeing his son in everything but blood. 

“It’s true! I did. But we came a couple of days early. Supplies and what not.” He leaned against the bar, his warm, amber eyes watching you with a look you didn’t want to name and you didn’t want to smile, you really didn’t, yet you did. 

“Hmm. You just wanted more sake.” 

“You serving it helps me plenty.” He winked at you and you rolled you eyes, glancing at Roger as if to blame him for how Shanks was. 

“Oh shut up.” You slid him a bottle of sake and a cup anyway. But you had a feeling there was something else there too but you wouldn’t question him. Not yet. 

“Thanks, love.” He winked as he poured himself a cup, taking a seat next to Louise. The woman was all but fawning over him and so was Doris. 

Traitors. 

“Oh, Shanks, look at you.” Doris cooed to the Emperor, who was absolutely eating it up, he always had liked attention when the mood struck and clearly now was a good time. “You’re as handsome as the last time you were here.” 

You snorted, shaking your head as you continued to restock the bar, very well aware of Shanks’ eyes on you as were Roger’s. They really were father and son. You tuned in some as you listened to Shanks tell Doris and Louise about his latest sea faring adventures and the scuffle he had supposedly gotten into. 

Thankfully, Yassop wasn’t here to embellish details but that did bring up the question of where his crew was. You figured they were probably gathering supplies or checking in on the village. Shanks and his crew were one of the best emperors to have protecting any island, they cared about the people, and they didn’t demand anything. It was one of the many reasons why the people on the island were so loyal to them and him. They all loved Shanks.

You spared a glance at Roger, who had a shine to his deep brown eyes (if ghosts even got tears, who knew, this was all crazy to you as it was), but there was a proud gleam to them. You knew he was proud of the man Shanks had become and you knew, from your various drunken conversations with Shanks, that he always had wondered if he made Roger proud. 

Maybe you’d be able to tell him about your pesky ghostly roommate. That’s basically what he was now and even if he did piss you off more often than not, it had been nice to not be alone besides the cat you had adopted a few days before Roger had shown up. The cat, however, was an orange tabby with part of his left ear that was missing and somehow he had chosen you to be his owner yet he could be a mean old thing. 

He also knew Roger was there and for whatever reason he loved Roger. 

You had ended up naming him Scratch mainly due to the fact that he had scratched you several times for no reason but he was an old man and you couldn’t blame the grumpy cat either. At first, you had assumed the things being moved around your little apartment above the bar was because of him. It was not as you came to find out when you had literally woken up to a ghost leaning over you that had the most ridiculous mustache in the world. 

Gol D. Roger. 

You had screamed and he had screamed and then you had declared you were dreaming. It turns out that you weren’t dreaming and now it had been three months and living with Roger had become a reality. He could be entertaining and also informative too but mainly he was a pest, a menace, you hated that you enjoyed it too. 

“Something’s bothering him.” 

Roger’s voice brought you out of your thoughts about the last couple of months and you glanced over at him. 

“Hm?” 

Roger didn’t expect you to talk when there were others around but he also had picked up your non verbal cues that you were listening to him.

“He’s engaged but he’s not there fully.” He told you and while Roger may have been dead for twenty years, he had raised Shanks and he knew him well enough to know something was going on. Roger was also extremely competent with just about anything too, he just chose to be a menace who was powerful even as a ghost. 

You hummed your acknowledgement and glanced at the red haired emperor. Roger was right. He was carrying something. He wasn’t as joyful as he typically was, sure, he was still being a charming menace but there was just something off about him and the way he was acting.  

Something was wrong. 

“Could be to do with that last crew he dealt with.” Roger added and you nodded a bit, your eyes shifting the red haired pirate. You knew from the last time Shanks was here he had been worried about Teach, now Blackbeard, ever since he had murdered the fourth division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. You knew a few of them and you had known Thatch but you definitely weren’t as close to them as you were with the Red Haired pirates, but you never minded if they showed up. You were fond of Marco and Izou along with Ace. You spared a glance at Roger. It was amazing how much Ace looked like his father but you never brought it up either. 

“Hm.” 

“Rrooowwwww.” 

“Hello, Scratch.” You said fondly as the cat jumped onto the counter. No one really said anything about it anymore, he’d shown up a couple of months ago and Doris and Louise had convinced you to take the grumpy, orange tabby. He’d been living with you ever since and he still made his rounds at the stalls, killing off bugs and mice. He also got plenty of scraps too along with the fish your cook made him. 

He was absolutely spoiled and lived just like a king.

 You reached over and scratched behind his ears, causing him to growl out in contentment. You smiled a bit until Shanks looked over and raised a brow. 

“And who’s this?” 

“This is Scratch. He showed up one day and didn’t leave.” You told him as Doris laughed softly. 

“He’s quite a handsome boy, isn’t he?” She reached over to pet him as he walked down the bar and meowed before he sat down and glared at Shanks. Shanks met his gaze and the two sized each other up. Shanks lifted his hand up for Scratch to sniff at, he did, and then he hissed, batting at him with claws out.

Shanks hissed, pulling his hand back. “Mean little devil, aren’t you?” He glared at the cat, whose tail was flicking back and forth, as he cleaned his face.

Neither of you thought much of it when red welts formed on Shanks’ hand but Roger noticed it. Shanks normally didn’t get cut unless someone was using haki. The ghost decided to file that back for later.

“He doesn’t like people. Don’t take offense to it, Red.” You shrugged but smirked a bit. “He takes a while to warm up to people.” 

"Doubtful."

That only made the red haired emperor pout while Scratch jumped off the counter and headed out the door to take his midday patrol around the island. He was a very independent cat after all. You glanced at Shanks and leaned against the bar, arms resting on the counter. 

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” You asked, tilting your head a bit. He turned his attention to you and smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something was definitely wrong. 

“Taking the day. Beck’s meeting with some of the elders. I’m heading that way in a bit but I wanted to stop by here first.” You knew he meant the words and part of you wondered if he came in just to see you but you absolutely refused to let that part of you have any say when it came to your feelings about the red haired menace. 

“Well, I stocked up on that sake you like so you should be fine while you’re here unless you drink all of it tonight.” You threw out at him and he grinned at you. 

“Me? Drink all of your sake? Sweetheart, I’m not an alcoholic.” 

You snorted at that and flicked his forehead with just a slight coating of armament haki on your fingers to make it hurt. “Liar.” 

He pouted again as he rubbed his forehead, pouting. “Hey, that hurt. I always forget you can do that.”

You rolled your eyes as you shook your head. “Rookie mistake, Red. I thought you were an emperor.”

“I am an emperor, I just sometimes forget that I answer to you.” He smirked before his tone lowered. “Are you working tonight?”

Your brow raised a bit and shook your head. “No, are you asking me to drink with you?”

He shook his head,leaning in a bit more. You were close now and you were well aware that Doris and Louise were watching along with Roger.

“Not tonight. I want to talk to you.” He glanced over at the two ladies and his lips twitched. “Alone.”

While they may have taken it that he was looking to get you into his bed, which you probably would by the end of this adventure of his, but you saw the serious gleam in his eyes and that this wouldn’t be a fun catching up visit. 

“What time?” You asked, tilting your head and he hummed. 

“About seven? I’ll ask Lucky to cook that one dish you favor.” 

You smiled a bit, you had always loved Lucky Roux’s cooking. “Alright, I’ll meet you on the Red Force then?”

“Mhm.” He finished his saki and winked at you as he stood up and headed for the door, lifting his hand in goodbye.

“It’s a date, love.” 

Despite knowing that it probably wasn’t a date, you still blushed a bit, rolling your eyes. 

“Shut up, you Red Haired bastard!” You called out to him, causing him to laugh while he walked out the door, your eyes watching him as he left. While Shanks annoyed you to no end, there was still something about the way the six foot six, broad shouldered, red haired emperor walked out that had your thoughts rolling because you recalled, very vividly, nights where it was his bare back and ass walking away from you to get a cloth to clean you up after a night of fucking. 

“A date?” Doris chimed in, causing you to glance over at them with a glare. Louise was smirking, her blue eyes twinkling. 

“I do believe that’s what I heard.” She added just as Roger made himself known once again. While Roger seemed to realize the date wasn’t just a date, he didn’t care much, and joined in on the teasing.

“Well, he does have some class after all. He takes after me.”

You shot them all glares once more and rolled your eyes. “Oh, hush your mouths. Nosy women.” You muttered, including Roger in that comment too, as you walked off, well aware of your cheeks heating up, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the hell Shanks wanted to talk to you about.

Outside the Tavern

Shanks let out a sigh of relief as he walked down the street, looking for one of his officers. Truly, he had come to check on you first to make sure you were safe. You could handle yourself, you always could, with those sharp eyes of yours, your usage of observation and armament haki, along with your skills with hand to hand combat and the occasional sword play. He knew you had grown up on a pirate ship, basically were a pirate yourself, but that still didn’t stop him from worrying.

He and you had… a complicated relationship and despite popular belief, Shanks wasn’t sleeping with anyone else and he knew from his sources that you weren’t either.

But that didn’t…

He ran his hand through his hair when he caught sight of Yasopp and Benn, the sniper waving him over as he headed over to them.

“You find her?” He asked, looking over the Chief of the Red Haired pirates. Shanks nodded. 

“Aye, she’s fine.”

“Figured she would be.” Beckman commented and Shanks shot him a look but it wasn’t hateful, more so, Shanks could let his irritability show. 

He didn’t like other crews and enemies knowing about you. Specifically Marshall D. Teach but he doubted Teach would try anything, he was supposedly somewhere in the Grand Line and not anywhere near you. He’d rather keep it that way.

But still, he wanted your insight on it too. It was well known among his officers that you occasionally gathered information for them from what you’d overheard at your tavern and from crews going in and out. It was a fair trade, one you insisted on since Shanks protected the island, and he had lost that argument with you and didn’t plan on picking it up once more. 

“You know he won’t come near here.” Yasopp added. already knowing what was bothering his captain. “And I doubt you’re his target.” 

“I know I’m not but that doesn’t make me feel any better when he could come after her. But I doubt he will.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Where’s Roux? Sweetheart’s coming aboard tonight while you llot are out. Figured he could make her favorite meal.”

“A date?”

“No, I want to talk to her in private.”

“In your cabin.”

“Possibly.”

Yasopp smirked at him as Beckman shook his head, the first mate jerking his thumb towards the food stalls.

“Waiting for Louise I reckon.” he told him, taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“She’ll be a bit, she’s in there with Doris.” Shanks smirked at Benn, the gleam of mischief returning for a moment. “She’s been looking for you.”

Beckman chuckled a bit and shook his head. “I’ll make sure I stop and see her in a bit then.” 

It was a well known fact that Doris had quite the thing for Benn Beckman and Beckman, being Beckman, was a natural flirt as it was. He enjoyed it probably just as much as the little old lady did. It was never a problem for Benn Beckman to get ladies as it was for some of the others. Shanks blamed his natural charm and the fact that he wasn’t completely in love with a bartender as he was. 

He nodded. “Alrigh-”

Hisssssssss. 

Shanks yelped when he felt claws go down his leg and he glanced down, scowling at the orange tabby, with a missing ear, and a presence that reminded him of someone long dead but he didn't dare dwell on that, who was glaring right back at him. “What’re you doing here?” He asked the cat, who hissed at him again, swatting at his leg before taking off for no reason at all. 

Beckman raised a brow and snorted. “What’d you do to him?”

“No clue.” Shanks shook his head, scowling still. “He’s Y/N’s cat now. Said he showed up one day, his name is Scratch. She said he doesn’t like most people anyway but he hates me apparently.” 

Yasopp snorted as he watched the cat disappear into the crowd of people. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day where a pussy doesn't like you, Shanks.” He snickered and Shanks rolled his eyes while Beckman let out a short laugh. 

“Fuck off, Yasopp.” He flipped the man off as he headed to go find Lucky. “I’ll see you lads later. And for the record, plenty of pussies like me.” He grumbled under his breath while his two crewmen laughed harder. 

"Yeah, but only one matters, doesn't it?"

You still weren’t sure why you were chosen of all people for him to haunt but here you were, wiping down the bar counter of the tavern you owned while he leaned against the counter. He was handsome. There was no doubt about that even if he was a ghost. You still weren’t sure how you could see him or talk to him but you could. But he talked more than enough for an entire town and he talked about anything and anyone and everything. You never knew what you’d get with Roger. 

You had taken over the bar from your father after he had decided he wanted to go sit by the docks and shoot the shit with the fisherman down there. Once a pirate, always a pirate. You had grown up on a pirate ship, your father’s, when he had his own crew before settling down on this island. He and you had known Shanks when Shanks was starting out and getting into the new world and thanks to that, he had your island under his protection as one of his territories now that he was an emperor. 

You wanted to murder him half the time too just like his quasi father. You glanced at Roger as he leaned against the bar, yapping about nothing at all, and you shook your head. 

“You’re as annoying as Shanks.” 

“Well, I did raise him.”

“I’m aware.” 

The grin he gave you was bright and you shook your head as you continued to wipe down the counter with a hum. Your hair was tied back and you wore shorts and a cropped top. It was easy, convenient, because you never knew when a fight would break out but it didn’t normally. The pirates and locals knew the rules, no fighting in the tavern or you’ll be thrown out. 

They respected it and since it was mostly the Red Haired pirates who came and Shanks’ allied crews.. They knew not to cross you because by proxy, they’d piss off Red Hair. It was not something they wanted to do even though they all knew, you’d take care of them with ease, but that didn’t matter. Shanks still wouldn’t tolerate it. Your tavern was his favorite to come to.  

“You know.” Roger started out as he watched you with a stupid smile. “I can see why Shanks likes to come here.” 

You raised a brow at the King of the Pirates, glancing over at him. “And why is that?” 

“You’re beautiful.” 

You threw your rag at him, causing him to laugh as it went right through him. 

“I hate you.” 

“It’s the truth!”

“He comes because I have good sake.” You pointed out with a huff, a blush on your cheeks as well. You refused to admit Shanks thought you were beautiful and besides, it wasn’t any of the ghost’s business.

“Why don’t you go haunt him instead of me?”

“You’re more murdery and fun.” 

“I think we need to talk about your definition of fun.”

“Like you don’t enjoy it just as much as me.” 

You scoffed at him, refusing to admit that you did enjoy the chaos and his and Shanks’ definition of fun. You had been a pirate too, though, you were more retired than anything now. You never denied that you still felt the sea and chaos that came with it calling to you. You knew that Roger had realized that too and that was one of his other favorite topics to discuss with you. Returning to the sea but you liked your life here and besides, you sometimes gave information to Benn when the Red Haired Pirates came in about movements of marines, other crews, and little things you had heard. 

You were loyal to the Red Haired Pirates even if you didn’t want to admit any feelings for Shanks. 

“You know, I think you’d miss me if I just left.” Roger broke you out of your thoughts and you shot the ghost a glare.

“I think I’d actually get to sleep peacefully at night.” You told him as you tossed the rag underneath the bar into the basket you had there. You grabbed a new one, placing it in the back pocket of your shorts before you turned to grab some of the glasses. Roger laughed, a booming laugh, and you smiled for just a moment. His laugh was loud much like he was but even after everything, it was still filled with joy. You ignored him as you went on about opening the tavern. You had a few employees who worked for you but you enjoyed the morning shift with the regulars that came in and the little old ladies who always showed up. 

You were already setting out their normal drinks. Doris loved a good rum while Louise wanted a cocktail. They were in their seventies and they looked sweet but those old women were menaces. They each had their own little stand in the market district right down the road and would come in for an hour for a little break and lunch before going back. Doris sold flowers while Louise had vegetables from her garden. You often got both for free in exchange for their drinks being on the house. They were very much like your grandmothers in the way that grandmothers cared about you and also annoyed you to no end in a very loving way too.

“Oh! It’s my favorites!” Roger gasped in delight as you shook your head, setting both drinks down in front of their regular stools just as the two women walked in.

”Good morning, ladies.” You said with a smile towards them. There was a mischievous look in both of their eyes as they came in.

”Good Morning, dear.”

“Hello, lovey.”

Doris and Louise sat down and took a drink from their respective drinks, causing you to raise a brow. 

“Why do you two look so suspicious?”

”Oh, no reason.”

”None at all.”

“But Doris, didn’t you see the red sails on the horizon this morning?”

“Were there? I didn’t notice. I do hope Beckman comes by my shop. He enjoys my flowers.” You quietly snorted at that. She had her eye on the first mate of the Red Haired pirates and it never ceased to amuse you with how much this little old lady flirted with Beckman either.

“I’m sure Roux will be by mine. I wonder how long they’re staying this time.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a week or more. Last I heard, Shanks got into a scuffle with some little pirates.” 

You glanced up at that, which was the wrong move entirely, because Doris caught your eye and smirked. Roger watched on in absolute delight, and Louise batted her eyes innocently. 

“I hope the poor dear wasn’t hurt.” 

You snorted before Doris could respond. “It’s Shanks. I think he’s fine.” 

“You don’t know that, lovey.” Doris scolded you, shaking her head. “He’s just a boy.”

“He’s a grown man and an emperor. He’s fine, Doris.” 

Roger snorted as he watched you continue your routine, you had already told your cook that they were there and would want their regular order. Grilled fish with rice. They hadn’t changed their order in five years and you doubted they would now. 

Doris sipped her rum and nudged Louise. “Are you sure about that lovey?” She smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes once more. “I’m very sure. Shanks can handle himself. He’s one the strongest pirates on the seas even if you don’t want to admit it. Don’t baby him.” 

Louise laughed a bit and shook her head, knowing you hadn’t even realized you had defended his strength. “Oh, dear. We know you baby him too.” 

“I do not.”  You puffed out your cheeks a bit as you leaned against the counter behind the bar. 

“You do so. I’ve seen him come out of your rooms above here.” Louise pointed out and you rolled your eyes as Roger’s brows shot up. He hadn’t been haunting you the last time Shanks had docked at your island. 

“He only stays there when he’s too drunk to get back to his ship.” You crossed your arms, lips pursed because yes, you did let Shanks stay in your room upstairs when he was here but only when he was drunk and that was…. Most of the time. You refused to let them know that they had a very good point.. 

“Oh? Does he stay in your bed?” Roger asked as he leaned next to you but you didn’t look at him. You didn’t need the little old ladies thinking you were crazy. 

Doris, however, smirked. “That’s every time then, isn’t it, lovey?”

You narrowed your gaze at her and rolled your eyes. “Oh why don’t you both hush? Nothing is going on with me and that red haired bastard.” You grumbled, shoving through Roger as he laughed, and turning to get some ale for one of the other regulars who had come in. You didn’t notice him, not yet but Roger’s smirk widened when he noticed who was at your bar now. 

“What poor red haired bastard is it that you have nothing going on with, sweetheart? It surely can’t be me.”

His voice was low, teasing, and his smirk was fully in place. Shanks had heard every word. 

Damn it. 

Speak of the devil. 

Your back straightened as you scowled at the wall, turning to look at the red haired bastard in question.  

“Shanks.” 

— Luffy

In public 

Luffy doesn't care if he's in public he will still be very clingy. Always holding you close, and no matter how close you are it's never close enough.

Loves your attention he will get jealous if a book you’re reading is getting more attention than him. He will place his head on your book so you could only look at him and not some boring ink on a paper.

You're the only person he shares his food with, it genuinely hurts him to give you the last piece of delicious and juicy meat but if it makes you happy then it's worth it.

Private 

Very needy. He's always needing your pussy. When he's in your pussy he NEEDS you to keep eye contact with him. He loves knowing that your full attention is on him and ONLY him.

His size is always changing, you want him normal? He will give you normal, you want it extra long? He will give you extra long and big.

Won't fall asleep till he wraps both his arms and legs all over you and then rests his head on your boobs. His favourite place to sleep. 

ace

in public 

Ace isn't shy to express his affection. he LOVES kissing you all the time, forehead, palm, cheeks, and his favourite, lips. His way of showing you off to others, so everyone knows your his, and he's yours 

likes cold weather, because he gets to hold you 24/7, he knows you get cold fast that's why he will purposely go to colder islands/places so he gets an excuse to cuddle you and feel you close.

He lives to see your jaw drop, which means he is an absolute menace with surprises. He will throw a full on big party just because you finished a massive boring book or learned a new dish. Every small achievement will be celebrated

Private

Absolutely loves when you ride him, it's his favourite position. He just likes seeing how your boobs bounce and how you take his cock all in you. will most likely cum the second you make eye contact with him.

He's very loud, probably louder than you. When you guys fuck everyone in the ship will know. "Baby..you're pussy is heaven..f-fuck. I don't want this to end" moans, groans, and everything in between.

After both of you are done he will try his best to not fall asleep immediately so he could cuddle you and play with your hair telling you how much he loves you, you're the best thing that ever happened to him. 

zoro

in public

Zoro isn't the touchy type in public, he would probably hold your hand when you're both out in a crowded area to make sure you're safe and close. But he will for sure always be close, especially in dangerous places you are not getting out of his sight (that's if he didn't get lost) 

If the weather gets cold or a sudden wind picks up, he won't make a big deal out of it but then drops his heavy coat on you so you wouldn't get cold, when you try to protest he will shrug it off "I'm fine. Now shut up"

He shields you from the rain by lifting his massive forearm over your head to keep the rain off your hair that you spent hours trying to style, and your new dress that you just bought. You still end up getting wet

Private

When he's drunk than that's a different story. he will pull you into his lap as he drinks and whisper in your ear the most filthiest things "can you feel how hard i am right now?", "ohhh fuck I love when you sit on my cock like that", "get ready to deal with it once we get back sweetheart"

Likes when you're being a brat. he use it as an excuse to fuck you hard. Always rough. His stamina is high so he won't stop till he made sure you've learned your lesson 

His aftercare is usually forehead kisses, making you lay on his chest as he holds you close, telling you “you did a good job.”

sanji

In public 

Sanji is probably the most affectionate in public he loves you and he will show the whole world he loves you 

He writes poetry on small notes everyday for you and places it next to your bed stand, it's his way of expressing the depth of his love to you.

Would 100% trust/believe you in every situation, the sky is purple and the grass is black? Yes ma'am you’re absolutely right. it's safe to jump in an ocean full of deadly monsters? Of course it is who is he to disbelieve you.

Private

He prefers to give rather than receive. Sanji will get hard thinking of eating you out. Sucking, licking, swallowing every orgasm like it's his last meal. Your soft and cute moans are music to his years, he gets satisfaction from making you cum.

Oh he loves seeing you the next morning with the hickeys he gave you, especially the ones between your legs and boobs the ones where no one could see except him.

The king of aftercare. He will have water, fruit, fresh made juice on your nightstand. Will feed you the fruit if you're too lazy or tired to eat them. Covers you in kisses and will repeat again and again how much he loves you till you fall asleep he won't sleep till you've slept first.

law

In public 

Law likes having you around him, he may not be the most affectionate but he makes up for it through his acts of service, he will always try to look for way to make your life easier. Placing your favourite jam closer on the counter so you wouldn't have to struggle and get it from the top shelf.

He's always prepared for every situation. You have a headache? He has medicine for it. You're having cramps? He knows 20 different ways to make the pain go away, and he's actively learning more

Loves watching you from afar, he admires how your hair moves in the wind, studies your expressions and reaction on different things. Probably has notes tracing what makes you happy and what doesn't.

Private

Likes when you suck him off. When he's tired from work and managing a ship full of idiots, the only thing he's thinking about is your sweet soft wet mouth. But when he's REALLY tired the only thing that could help him relax is your pussy. Oh how he loves it. 

Knows how to hit your g spot in 20 different ways. Probably learned it from a book called "how to please your wife in bed" read it with a serious straight face. 

The air at Marine HQ was always thick with a mixture of salt spray and polished brass, but today, it felt overly oppressive. There was a specific kind of tension that permeated the hallways, one that only appeared once a year. It was a polished energy, one you had never been a big fan of. The Annual Marine Ball was approaching, and for most, it was a night of glamour and networking. For Captain Smoker, it was a descent into a special kind of hell.

You worked directly under him, a position that required a level of patience and thick skin that would make even a mountain feel fragile. You had grown accustomed to the perpetual cloud of cigar smoke that followed him like a loyal dog and the habitual scowl that seemed etched into his rugged features. But today, you realized your direct superior wasn't just his usual grumpy self; he seemed to be in a state of active hostility.

As you walked into his office, the smell of tobacco was so dense it was practically a physical barrier. Smoker was leaning over his desk, his broad shoulders hunched, staring at a mandatory invitation with an expression that suggested he'd rather be fighting a Sea King with his bare hands.

"You look like you're planning a murder, Captain," you noted, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk. You were lucky to be working under a man like him. Had you been working under anyone else, you'd have been fired long ago for the number of jokes you made with your superior. "Or perhaps you're just contemplating the horror of wearing a tie for four hours?"

Smoker didn't look up, but the cigar in his mouth shifted as he let out a sharp, irritated huff. You coughed a little as a wave of smoke flew over to you. "It's a waste of time. A circus for the admirals to parade their medals and for the politicians to pretend they give a damn about the front lines. Nothing but a stupid game for those at the top."

"And yet, attendance is mandatory for Captains and above," you reminded him, your voice dripping with amusement. "Unless you want to spend the next month filling out disciplinary reports for 'insubordination against the festive spirit of the Marines.'"

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes narrowing. You knew that look - it was the look of a man who felt cornered by a world that demanded he be something other than a blunt instrument of justice. You found it endearing, in a rugged, dysfunctional sort of way. You liked the way his jaw tightened when he was annoyed, and the way his presence seemed to swallow the oxygen in the room, leaving you feeling breathless and electric.

Before you could tease him further, the door to the office swung open without a knock. In stepped… ugh, none other than Vice Admiral Viper.

Viper was the embodiment of everything Smoker hated. She was polished, ambitious, and carried herself with a level of confidence that bordered on arrogance. She had been pursuing Smoker for months, her interest less about his personality and more about the "challenge" of breaking his stoic exterior. Because she outranked him, Smoker couldn't simply tell her to get lost without risking a formal reprimand - trust me, he tried - which only made her try more aggressively.

"Smoker," she purred, her voice a practiced melody of artificial sweetness that made you want to throw up. She ignored you entirely, as if you were part of the office furniture. "I was just reviewing the guest list. I noticed you haven't responded to my invitation to accompany me to the ball."

Smoker straightened up, his expression shifting from irritation to sheer dreed. The poor man looked like a man facing a firing squad, and you almost winced in sympathy. "I'm not looking for a date, Vice Admiral."

Viper stepped closer, her perfume - something cloying and overly floral - clashing violently with the scent of his cigars. "Oh, don't be so modest. A man of your… stature… shouldn't be attending such a prestigious event alone. It would look poor on your record. I'm offering you a way to elevate your social standing within the HQ."

You watched the scene with a hidden grin, leaning back and enjoying the show. Smoker was clearly vibrating with the urge to walk out of the room and never return, and you could not blame him. He glanced at the invitation on his desk, then at the Vice Admiral, and finally, his gaze flickered toward you for a fraction of a second.

"I can't," Smoker grunted, his voice barely able to hide how annoyed he really was. "I'm already going with someone."

His words hung in the air. The silence grew heavy enough to press on all your chests. Viper stopped mid-stride, her eyebrows arching in genuine surprise. A slow and obvious faked smile spread across her lips.

"Is that so?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism. "And who could possibly have captured the interest of White Chase Smoker? Surely it isn't Hina? I'm afraid she's very obviously interested in women, and Tashigi… yeah, no one would buy that, so don't try to use them as an excuse, Smoker. Lying is beneath you."

Smoker's mind clearly went blank. You could practically see the gears grinding to a halt in his head. He was trapped. If he admitted he was lying, he'd be at the mercy of Viper all night. If he stayed silent, he looked weak.

In a moment of pure desperation, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"…I'm going with Y/N."

You froze. Your smirk vanished almost instantly, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. You stared at your superior, your mouth slightly open. Excuse me?

Viper turned her gaze toward you for the first time. She scanned you up and down with a look of profound condescension, taking in your standard-duty uniform and your slightly confused expression. However, the shock of Smoker actually having a date seemed to outweigh her distaste.

"I see," Viper said, her voice returning to that sugary, fake tone. "A subordinate. How… quaint. Well, I suppose that explains the lack of formality. I shall look forward to seeing the two of you tonight. Do try to make sure your companion at least looks the part, Smoker. It would be a shame for you to be embarrassed."

With a final, arrogant flick of her wrist, the Vice Admiral swept out of the room, leaving a vacuum of stunned silence in her wake.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You were so caught off guard it took you a second to return to your usual persona. Then, you slowly pushed yourself off the doorframe, stepping into the center of the room.

"So," you purred, your voice retaining its usual tone. "I'm your date, am I?"

Smoker let out a sound that was half-groan, half-sigh, sliding his hand over his face. He looked genuinely pained. "I didn't have a choice."

"Oh, you had a choice. You could have just said no or that you'd rather eat glass. But instead, you sold me out to the most arrogant woman in the Marine HQ." You stepped closer, your eyes shimmering with mischief only meant for him. "What exactly is the plan here, Captain? Do I get a bonus for this? A promotion? A very expensive bottle of wine?"

Smoker looked at you, scanning your face with his dark eyes. The desperation was still somewhat there, but it was being overtaken by a strange, awkward tension. "Look, I apologize, Commander. But it's just for one night. You just have to pretend you're with me so she leaves me the hell alone. Once the opening dance is over and the admirals are all drunk on champagne, we can just… slip away."

You tilted your head, letting a small smile pull at the corner of your lips. To be quite honest, you had always felt a pull toward Smoker - a desire to see what lay beneath the gruff exterior, to see if you could be the one to make that stoic mask crack. This was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"I'll do it," you whispered, leaning in until you could smell the tobacco and the salt on his skin. "But you owe me, Captain Smoker. Big time."

He scoffed, though he didn't fully pull away. "Fine. Whatever. Just… find something that doesn't look like you just rolled out of a barracks."

"Careful, Smoker. I can guarantee you that just because these uniforms are ugly, my sense of style most definitely isn't. I'll see you later."

The actual process of getting ready was a blur. You didn't own many formal clothes, but you had one dress tucked away in the back of your wardrobe - a piece you'd bought on a whim during a trip to the city, something you'd deemed was too much for any ordinary occasion, but absolutely perfect for tonight.

It was a deep, midnight-black silk gown that hugged every curve of your body like a second skin. The neckline was a daring plunge, and the back was almost entirely open, held together by a few delicate straps that looked like they could snap with a single touch. It was a dress designed to command attention, to provoke a reaction, and to make a man forget how to breathe.

As you slid into the silk, feeling the cool fabric glide over your skin, you felt a surge of confidence. You added a pair of strappy heels and a touch of dark lipstick, glancing in the mirror. You looked like a walking temptation, and you loved it.

When you finally arrived at the designated meeting point near the entrance of the ballroom, you found Smoker already waiting for you.

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Smoker had actually cleaned himself up. He was wearing the formal white Marine dress uniform, the gold buttons gleaming under the chandeliers. The jacket was tailored to perfection, stretching across his massive shoulders and chest, the crisp fabric emphasizing the sheer power of his frame. He had traded his usual rugged look for something polished, though he still looked like he wanted to punch the nearest wall. His hair was still a shock of aggressive gray-white, and he still had those two cigars clamped in his teeth, but the overall effect was devastating.

He looked like a mountain of a man wrapped in gold and white.

You stared at him, your gaze traveling from his polished boots up to the hard line of his jaw. You didn't realize you were gaping until he noticed.

Smoker shifted his weight, a slight flush creeping up his neck. He looked away quickly, pretending to be intensely interested in a nearby potted plant. "What?" he grunted, his voice slightly cracking. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No," you breathed, your voice sounding a bit too airy. "You just… wow, you actually look like a human being. I didn't think you knew how to dress for anything other than a brawl."

He scoffed, but there was a flicker of something you couldn't quite name in the set of his shoulders. Then, he finally turned his head and looked at you.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Smoker's eyes blew impossibly wide - well, for his standards - his pupils swallowing the iris as his gaze traveled down the plunge of your neckline, over the curve of your hips, and back up to your face. He actually stopped breathing for a second, his chest heaving beneath the white fabric of his uniform. The cigar in his mouth nearly dropped.

The silence between you was no longer awkward; it was thick and charged, a pressurized chamber of unspoken desire. You could feel the heat radiating off him in waves, a physical force that made your skin prickle.

"You…" he started, his voice breaking slightly. He cleared his throat, his expression shifting back to a scowl, though it lacked any real bite. "That dress seems… highly impractical. You're going to catch a cold."

You let out a soft, genuine laugh, stepping closer into his space. "Admit it, Captain. You like it."

He didn't answer, but as he reached out to offer you his arm, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight through your entire being.

Entering the ballroom was like stepping into an entirely different world. The space was a sprawling expanse of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and the scent of a thousand different expensive perfumes. Nearly every high-ranking Marine in the HQ was there, their fake laughter and chatter creating a dull roar that echoed off the high ceilings.

As you walked in beside Smoker, the attention of some shifted towards you. You could feel the eyes of the other officers on you - some merely curious, some jealous, and some purely predatory. Smoker felt it too. Almost instinctively, his posture changed.

He tried shielding you as you two walked. His arm stayed firmly tucked against yours, and as you navigated through the crowd, he naturally slipped into protective gestures. He placed a large hand on the small of your back, his palm warm through the thin silk of your dress. He stood close enough that your shoulders brushed with every step, his presence acting as a barrier between you and the rest of the room.

The touches were casual, almost unconscious, but they felt surprisingly natural. It wasn't the behavior of a man who was pretending. To onlookers, this looked real, like a man who had clearly claimed something as his own.

"Look at them," a voice drifted over.

Your gaze fell upon Hina and Tashigi. It was obvious Tashigi was only present because Hina had coaxed her into coming, or else your friend would've never attended. Hina looked stunning in a sophisticated, dark purple evening gown, her eyes sparkling as if she had you all figured out already. Tashigi was in a more modest but elegant dress, her glasses slightly fogged from the heat of the room.

Hina exchanged a long, meaningful look with Tashigi, a small smile stealing its way onto her lips. "Hina is impressed," she stated in her signature third-person style. "Smoker actually found someone who can tolerate his temperament. Hina finds this development… unexpected."

"You look lovely, Y/N!" Tashigi added, though she looked slightly flustered, her eyes darting toward her superior. "I… I didn't know you two were… together."

"It's a secret," you whispered, winking at them. "We're very discreet."

Smoker let out a low grunt, his grip on your lower back tightening slightly. "Stop talking and let's get a drink before I have to face you know who and lose my mind."

But the peace didn't last. As if summoned by the mention of her name, Vice Admiral Viper appeared, slicing through the crowd like a shark in silk. She was wearing a dress of shimmering gold that screamed for attention, and she wore an expression of calculated curiosity.

"Smoker!", she chirped, her eyes immediately darting to your hand on his arm. "I see you've brought your… companion. I must say, Y/N, you've certainly put effort into your appearance tonight. Though, I wonder if such a… bold… choice is appropriate for a Marine function."

The condescension was thick, but before you could respond, you felt Smoker shift. He stepped slightly in front of you, his broad frame effectively blocking Viper's view of you.

"She looks fine," Smoker barked, his voice a warning rumble. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we were heading for the refreshments."

Viper didn't budge. She smoothly stepped around him and narrowed her eyes. "Don't be so defensive, Smoker. I'm simply making conversation. Tell me, Y/N, what exactly is it that you provide for the Captain? Aside from a pretty dress?"

Oh, this bitch. You felt a spark of genuine irritation. You were used to Smoker's grumpiness, but this woman's arrogance was grating. You opened your mouth to deliver a scathing retort, but you felt Smoker's hand slide from your back to your waist, pulling you flush against his side. The heat of his body was overwhelming, a searing pressure that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

"Commander Y/N has worked very hard to earn her current place. Besides, she provides the only thing in this room I actually enjoy," Smoker rasped, his voice dropping an octave.

The sheer intensity of the statement left Viper momentarily speechless. It was a line that sounded far too convincing to be fake.

Just then, the orchestra began to play a slow, romantic melody, and the announcement for the opening dance echoed through the hall.

Vice Admiral Viper recovered quickly, her eyes lighting up. "Ah, the first dance! Smoker, as a Vice Admiral, it is only proper that I lead the first dance of the evening. Please, join me."

She reached out her hand with a confident expression etched onto her face. Smoker looked at her hand as if it were a piece of rotten fish, and you had to try really hard not to burst out laughing, because he didn't move. He didn't even blink.

You saw the opportunity and took it. You leaned into him, your voice a playful, sultry whisper that only he could hear. "Thought I was your date tonight, Captain. It would be awfully rude to leave me standing here alone."

Smoker looked down at you, his eyes searching yours. It was funny, how quickly this was getting out of control. The fake relationship was starting to feel a little too real, the boundaries blurring in the heat of the moment. He turned back to Viper, wearing a flat and very obviously unamused expression on his face.

"Sorry, Vice Admiral. I'm dancing with my date."

He didn't bother to wait for her response. He took your hand in his rough and calloused one and led you toward the center of the dance floor.

Neither of you were particularly elegant. Smoker moved with the grace of a landslide, and you were still adjusting to the height of your heels. For the first few bars of the music, your dancing was a disaster of stepped-on toes and awkward pivots. You stumbled slightly, your hip bumping into his, and you let out a sudden, bright laugh that echoed through the formal silence of the room.

Smoker didn't laugh - he didn't really do laughter - but you saw the way his eyes softened, if only a little. A small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips suggested he was amused. He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist, hauling you against his chest.

"You're a menace," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear. Up close, the smell of smoke that always surrounded him was so strong it was almost suffocating, but also strangely comfortable.

"And you're a terrible dancer," you countered, resting your hand on his shoulder, feeling the hard muscle beneath the white fabric.

As you swayed to the music, the world around you seemed to fade. The glittering lights, the judging glares of the other officers, and the persistent presence of Viper all became nothing but background noise. There was only the scent of tobacco and cedarwood, the heat of Smoker's body, and the way his hand felt pressed firmly against the small of your back.

You found yourself leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. You would've never thought an event like this to be enjoyable, but with Smoker, a man who had a dislike just as strong as yours for these type of things, it wasn't quite so bad. You actually found yourself having fun.

However, the evening wasn't without its thorns. Throughout the entire night, Vice Admiral Viper continued to interrupt the two of you. She would slide into your conversations, make subtle jabs at your rank, or try to pull Smoker away for some urgent matters of state that were obviously a lie.

Seriously, you were getting mad. Every time she spoke, you felt a protective urge toward Smoker - not because he needed protecting, but because you didn't want anyone else to have his attention. When exactly you had fallen for him, you didn't know, but it was all coming to surface now after weeks, hell, probably months, of trying to ignore it. You wanted that grumpy man all to yourself, and especially the territorial version of him that only appeared when you were around.

And Smoker, in turn, seemed noticeably more relaxed whenever he was beside you. He stopped scowling at the officers and started ignoring them entirely and continued to focus only on you. He would lean in to whisper a comment about the absurdity of the event, or he would subtly guide you away from a crowd, his touch lingering for just a second too long.

By the time the third hour of the ball had passed, the rumor mill was in full swing. You could hear the whispers as you passed by groups of officers.

"Are they actually together?" "I heard they've been seeing each other in secret for months." "I can't believe Smoker actually fell for someone like her."

You caught Smoker's eye and gave him a wicked grin. "I think we've convinced them, Captain. We're practically the talk of the town."

He scoffed, though he didn't pull away when you leaned your head on his shoulder. "Great. Now I'll have to deal with more gossip."

A little later, Smoker was momentarily pulled away by an Admiral to discuss a report. He signaled you that he'd be right back, and you nodded, saluting to the Admiral with a friendly smile before stepping away. You were standing by the refreshment table, lazily sipping a glass of champagne, when Viper cornered you.

She didn't have her fake smile on anymore. Her expression was cold, her eyes filled with a sharp and obvious disdain.

"Let's be honest, Y/N," she whispered, her voice like a razor. "This little charade is amusing for now, but we both know where you stand. You're a subordinate. A tool. Smoker is a man of great ambition and power who will make it far in the future; he needs a partner who complements his standing, not a little girl playing dress-up in a silk gown. You're beneath him in every way that matters. Once the novelty wears off, he'll toss you aside like one of his spent cigars."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew she was just a bitter woman, but the cruelty in her voice felt personal. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as a shadow fell over you.

Smoker was back.

He didn't look at you first. He looked at Viper, and for the first time that night, the "fake" part of the date was completely gone. His expression was one of real, unadulterated rage. His eyes were dark, his jaw set in a hard line, and the air around him seemed to vibrate dangerously.

Gone was the man trying to keep the peace. Smoker had never been a man who cared much about status and ranks, but it was true that Viper outranked him, which is why he avoided trouble by still playing somewhat nice with her.

Yeah, well. Not anymore.

"I believe," Smoker rasped, his voice a lethal growl that made Viper recoil, "that I told you to leave her alone, Vice Admiral."

Viper stammered, her confidence evaporating instantly. "Captain Smoker, I was simply-"

"I don't give a damn what you were doing,"he roared, his voice echoing through the ballroom, immediately silencing the nearby conversations. He stepped closer, looming over her, his massive frame casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. "If I hear one more condescending word come out of your mouth regarding my commander, I don't care what your rank is - I will make sure your next assignment is on the most miserable outpost in the Four Blues. Do I make myself clear?"

Viper stared at him, her mouth agape. She had spent months trying to get this reaction out of him, but she had never expected it to be in defense of someone else. She realized, in that moment, that he wasn't bluffing. The look in his eyes wasn't just anger; it was possessiveness.

She backed away without another word, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.

Smoker didn't even watch her leave. He turned to you and you watched how his expression shifted almost instantly. The rage vanished, replaced by a small, concerned look. He reached out, his large hand resting on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your naked skin.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice changing into that slightly rough rumble you loved.

You looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. Everything that happened today, the trill of the evening, pretending to be the fake date of your boss, and the way he just looked at you - it all collided in a single, explosive moment of realization.

"I'm fine," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. "Thank you, Smoker."

"Come on," he muttered, his grip shifting to your waist. "I've had enough of this circus. Let's get out of here."

The two of you slipped quietly slipped away from the ballroom, finally escaping the noise and the prying eyes. You found your way to a secluded balcony that overlooked the sprawling city of Marineford. The night air was cool, a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the ballroom, and the moonlight cast a silver glow over the white stone of the balcony.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. You leaned against the railing, looking out at the horizon, while Smoker stood beside you, the scent of his cigars mixing with the salt of the sea surrounding you.

"You know," you said softly. "Fake dating wasn't nearly as awful as I expected."

Smoker let out a huff, a sound that was almost a laugh. He turned to look at you, his dark eyes scanning your face in the moonlight. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Maybe it's the dress," you teased, glancing down at the black silk. "Or maybe it's the company."

Smoker shifted, stepping closer until your backs were both against the railing. He didn't touch you, but the heat of his body was still there and made your skin prickle.

"I… I didn't pick you because it was random, Y/N," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching. "What do you mean?"

"I've spent the last few months… watching you," he confessed, his gaze intensifying. "Watching the way you handle the chaos, your strong sense of justice, the way you don't flinch when I do something that pisses off our superiors, the way you… look at me. I knew if I picked anyone else, I'd spend the whole night wishing they were you."

Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird. The air around you instantly turned thick, making it nearly impossible to swallow. You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting as his words echoed in your ears. You reached up, your fingers grazing the gold buttons of his uniform, your heart still racing uncontrollably.

"You're a real piece of work, Smoker," you whispered. "I would've agreed even if you'd asked me for real. I've been waiting for you to stop being a grump for a long time."

Smoker didn't wait for another word. He reached out, his hand sliding into your hair, his fingers gripping the strands with a possessive strength that made you moan. He pulled you forward, his mouth crashing onto yours in a kiss so intense it almost knocked you off your feet.

It was rough, demanding, and everything you'd wanted it to be. His tongue invaded your mouth almost immediately, and you moaned as the taste of tobacco fully hit you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to merge your skin with his.

Smoker groaned hungrily into your mouth. He pressed you back against the cold stone of the railing and pinned you in place with his body. His hand slid down from your hair to your waist, his fingers digging into the silk of your dress, pulling you flush against the hard ridges of his body.

The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic and even more desperate. You could feel in the way his hand shook that he was struggling to not simply break you in half right here on the balcony. The friction of his uniform against your skin sent jolts of electricity straight to your core, leaving you shaking and breathless and in need of so, so much more.

He broke the kiss for a split second, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was only coming in ragged bursts. The cigar in his mouth was now somewhere laying between you on the ground, but you didn't bother looking for it.

"I've wanted to do that since the moment you walked into my office today," he rasped, his voice a complete wreck.

You let out a shaky laugh, your eyes shimmering with desire. "Only today? I'm offended, Captain."

He let out a low chuckle, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Shut up."

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, his tongue mapping out your mouth with a hunger that promised something far more intense than a balcony kiss. His hand wandered, tracing the curve of your hip, the silk dress offering almost no protection against the heat of his palm.

You felt a hot, simmering fire ignite in your gut, and you could've sworn you were already dripping. You shifted your hips against him, feeling the hard length of his arousal pressing against your hips. You let out a soft, needy whimper, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

Smoker pulled back just an inch and scanned your flushed face. He looked at the dress, the way your breasts almost spilled out of it, the open back, and how well it clung to every single inch of you, and his jaw tightened.

"This dress," he murmured, his voice dripping to a suggestive growl. "It's beautiful. Truly."

You smirked, leaning in to nip at his lower lip. "Do you like it?"

Smoker's grip on your waist tightened, his fingers touching the skin beneath the silk. A slow grin spread across his features, and you immediately knew you were in for a treat this night.

Still, despite preaching that food should never go to waste, Sanji had purchased enough seafood not only to feed the crew for a month, but to host several feasts with visiting pirate crews.

Then, barely giving anyone a chance to object, he had practically dragged you all toward the sushi restaurant he’d dreamed of visiting ever since his days aboard the Baratie, positively buzzing with excitement at the chance to learn something new.

“Old geezer used to say if you ever crossed the Grand Line and found yourself on this island, you’d be a fool to leave without eating here.”

By the time you finally arrived, your cook let out a sigh of pure admiration, forcing you to discreetly pinch Zoro more than once to keep him from making one of his usual remarks.

The restaurant wasn’t extravagant so much as quietly timeless. It stood at the very edge of the harbor, where the sea nearly kissed its foundations whenever the tide rose high. From the outside it was surprisingly modest, a weathered cedar building whose dark wooden walls had been polished smooth by decades of salt-laden winds. A faded indigo noren hung across the entrance, its color softened by countless summers, bearing nothing more than the simple white crest of three intertwined waves.

“OI, SANJI! THIS SHACK’S THE PLACE WITH THE AMAZING FOOD?!”

Luffy’s voice rang out with all the subtlety of a cannon blast.

He was immediately met by three raised fists: Sanji, whose cigarette nearly snapped between his teeth as one leg lifted threateningly into the air; Nami, glaring daggers at their captain’s complete lack of manners; and poor Usopp, desperately trying to salvage what little dignity remained.

Hidden behind your shoulder, your boyfriend allowed himself the faintest, thoroughly self-satisfied smirk before nudging both you and Chopper, who had already claimed your other hand.

“C’mon.”

After taking off your shoes, with Chopper naturally finishing long before everyone else and bouncing impatiently where he stood, a waiter led you toward one of the tatami rooms through a series of polished wooden corridors. Paper lanterns cast warm pools of amber light across the hallway, while the old floorboards creaked softly beneath your footsteps.

You slowed for just a moment, unable to resist admiring the tiny courtyard garden tucked between the rooms. A smooth stone basin caught the steady trickle of falling water, soft moss blanketed the ground beneath a wind-shaped pine, and several koi drifted lazily through a shallow pond.

“Tch. You coming, woman?”

Zoro’s voice pulled you back. He stood beside the open shōji door, patiently holding it for you.

You smiled, quickening your pace.

“Thanks.”

Taking advantage of the brief absence of witnesses, you rose onto your toes, pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then slipped past him into the room.

Zoro answered with nothing more than the smallest shrug, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward as warmth spread across the cheek you’d kissed.

Chopper had already rushed inside.

“I WANT THE WINDOW!”

In the blink of an eye he’d claimed the spot overlooking the water.

You laughed, straightening the little hat that had slipped crookedly onto his head.

“You beat me to it.”

“I can still see everything from here!” Chopper beamed.

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the cushion he’d knocked askew, still smiling to yourself.

When you finally looked up again, Zoro was still standing where you’d left him, quietly waiting until you’d settled in before lowering himself onto the cushion beside you.

The peaceful atmosphere lasted all of thirty seconds before the shōji door slid open and in burst the Straw Hat captain wearing a grin as loud as his voice.

“FOOD!”

Before anyone could stop him, he was already kneeling at the table with his nose mere inches from the immaculate place settings.

Sanji immediately seized him by the back of his vest, a vein throbbing visibly across his forehead.

“Don’t touch anything, you idiot! They haven’t even brought the food yet!”

“But I wanna see!”

“You’ll see it when they serve it!”

Having personally insisted on ordering directly from the head chef, selecting the restaurant’s rarest specialties, Moonfin tuna, Rainbow snapper, Sapphire squid, and countless fish found nowhere else but these waters, Sanji had, in truth, been determined from the start to spend the evening beside the master chef himself, soaking up every lesson he could.

With a sparkle in his eyes brighter than the one that usually appeared at the sight of a beautiful woman, he practically floated after the elderly chef, an old acquaintance of Zeff’s. The discovery had caught him completely off guard, but his surprise quickly gave way to unmistakable pride. The legendary sushi master not only knew the stubborn old geezer from the Baratie, but seemed genuinely delighted to meet his apprentice, readily demonstrating his techniques and sharing the knowledge he had spent a lifetime perfecting.

Thankfully, that spared the rest of you another hour of listening to him repeat,

“This chef trained for sixty years.”

“The vinegar is aged.”

“The rice only grows on the northern cliffs.”

“The knife’s been passed down through eight generations.”

With drinks finally served, conversation flowed easily, as much as it could with Luffy repeatedly announcing that the food ought to hurry up already.

You, Nami, and Robin soon found yourselves making plans to visit the island’s famous onsen together, all three of you craving a little time away from your beloved idiots. Nami had already reserved a spot for the following day and fully intended to spend a generous portion of the crew’s budget shopping beforehand, while Robin quietly informed you about a local bookstore that supposedly carried the very book you’d been searching for in every port these past few months.

Beside you, your green-haired swordsman sat in comfortable silence, occasionally brushing his little finger ever so lightly against your hand as he sipped his sake. With one ear he listened to one of Usopp’s wildly exaggerated stories, a tall tale bearing little resemblance to reality, while unsuccessfully hiding a smile at the captain’s and Chopper’s wholehearted amazement.

At one point, Chopper’s attention was stolen by a tiny crab making its way along the veranda outside.

Without thinking, you reached to stop him from leaning too far.

At that exact same moment, Zoro’s hand settled firmly against the small of your back out of pure instinct.

Across the table, Robin smiled quietly into her teacup.

At last, Sanji returned alongside the head chef, greeted by Luffy’s ecstatic cheers, as beautifully carved serving boards shaped like waves, dragons, and even swords were carefully placed before each of you.

Delicately arranged atop them, each piece of sushi looked almost too beautiful to eat. Brilliant colors gleamed beneath the lantern light, from the vivid turquoise sheen of the Moonfin tuna to the deep crimson cuts and the iridescent marbling of the Rainbow snapper. The craftsmanship was nothing short of mesmerizing.

You discreetly nudged your boyfriend’s ankle the moment he opened his mouth to remark that sushi looked the same no matter where you ate it. Meanwhile, you, Nami, Robin and Chopper found yourselves quietly pointing out your favorite pieces, admiring the vibrant colors spread before you like tiny works of art.

“The strongest warriors used to volunteer their arms,” the elderly chef remarked, with the sort of perfectly straight face that made it impossible to tell whether he was recounting history or inventing it on the spot.

“Long ago,” he continued, “the strongest warriors of this island would offer their arms during festivals to the person they held dearest. They believed food tasted sweetest when it was shared with the one they wished to protect. It was never meant as entertainment, but as a quiet promise. To nourish someone with your own hands was one thing… to trust them enough to place your own body beneath their meal was another.”

A faint smile softened the old chef’s weathered features.

Unfortunately for Zoro, Luffy volunteered him before he even had the chance to object.

The chef studied the green-haired swordsman thoughtfully.

“With muscles like that… it would actually work.”

Zoro refused immediately.

“COME ON, ZORO!” Luffy pleaded, slapping him enthusiastically between the shoulders. “PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEEEASE!”

“No.”

Your boyfriend sounded so final that it was obvious he’d sooner wrestle a Sea King than endure Luffy’s stretchy hands and tongue anywhere near his skin, especially knowing the rest of the idiots would immediately join in.

“I WOULDN’T MIND!” Luffy declared instead, balancing pieces of sushi along his own arm, much to Sanji’s horror as several nearly slid onto the floor. “I’M STRONG TOO!”

Saving the endangered sushi with remarkable speed, Sanji marched toward the girls, hearts practically floating around him.

“I would never offer these magnificent hands to those heathens,” he declared dramatically, “but if my lovely ladies wished it, the greatest honor of my life would be to have their beautiful lips graze my arm…”

“ME TOO!”

“NO!”

Sanji snapped around so fast his entire expression transformed the instant Luffy tried to volunteer himself.

Meanwhile, everyone else had turned to stare at Zoro.

“The hell’re you all lookin’ at?”

He was completely against it…

…until you quietly asked,

“Would you mind?”

Silence settled over the room.

Usopp leaned forward with unmistakable interest, Chopper stared with stars sparkling in his eyes, and Franky simply raised an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“…Tch.”

“If he won’t, Y/N-swan, I’d be more than happy to offer my…”

“She’ll eat off mine, you damn perverted cook.”

Your green-haired swordsman had already rolled up his sleeve, deliberately turning his head away as though none of this concerned him. Usopp would’ve sworn the tips of his ears were as red as the coral reefs of the Grand Line, but wisely kept that observation to himself.

Still visibly irritated, though making a genuine effort to compose himself for your sake, Sanji reached for a few pieces of sushi, intending to arrange them across the firm curve of Zoro’s bicep. One sharp look from the swordsman stopped him cold.

“Only her.”

Unable to hide your smile beneath the curious stares of your crewmates and Sanji’s poorly concealed sulking, you knelt beside Zoro, biting back a laugh as you carefully arranged each piece of sushi along his forearm.

Your fingertips drifted gently across the surprisingly soft warmth of his skin, stretched over the solid muscle beneath. As your index finger idly traced the prominent vein running along his forearm, he nearly choked on his own breath. The swordsman's eyes widened for the briefest instant, a warm flush blooming across his cheeks before he hurriedly schooled his expression. A quiet, strangled sound escaped him, something that, in the peculiar language of Roronoa Zoro, translated to I’m barely holding myself together, and I’d much rather you didn’t do that in front of everyone… even as he made no move to stop you.

“Cold?”

“No.”

He was so still he barely seemed to blink.

“Isn’t it a little difficult to keep your balance?”

“No.”

“You can move if you’re uncomfortable.”

“…You haven’t finished,” he muttered, meeting your eyes for only a heartbeat before looking away again.

Smiling softly, you leaned in once more, steadying yourself with one hand against his shoulder.

His bicep had long been one of your favorite places to find comfort. It had steadied you through countless ordinary moments, carried the weight of your exhaustion without complaint, and welcomed you whenever the world felt just a little too loud.

You had kissed your way along that very arm more times than you could count.

Sometimes, when you were feeling especially playful, you’d nip at it just to hear his gruff complaint. You’d cleaned the cuts left behind after battles, pressing gentle kisses to fresh scars as you wrapped them in clean linen. On quiet afternoons beneath the Sunny’s mast, you’d used it as a pillow while dozing safely tucked against his chest, and on sleepy mornings, you’d leave a trail of featherlight pecks along his bicep before trying to slip from his embrace, only for him to wordlessly pull you back against him.

Whenever you rushed into his arms, it was there that your face inevitably came to rest. You hid behind that broad upper arm whenever you grew shy or tried to conceal a smile. In crowded festival streets, you instinctively clung to it so you wouldn’t lose him in the sea of people. Sometimes you’d lazily trace little pictures or write words against his skin with your fingertip, laughing as he tried to guess what you’d drawn. And on nights when the two of you lost yourselves in one another, you’d leave lipstick marks along the muscle, and he’d regard them with quiet satisfaction, reluctant, and entirely uninterested, to wipe away those little traces of your affection unless you insisted.

Yet never, not once, had you eaten from it.

After hearing the story behind the tradition, and knowing he had offered that quiet honor to you, and to you alone, the entire moment took on an intimacy you hadn’t expected.

Perhaps you should have felt embarrassed with the whole crew watching, but the thought barely crossed your mind.

Moments like these, when Zoro chose to wear his affection where others could see it, were impossibly rare. His love had never been loud or adorned with grand declarations. It revealed itself through quiet choices, stubborn gestures, and silent promises that somehow always reached your heart all the same.

Your hair brushed lightly against his neck, sending the faintest tickle across the skin of the stoic swordsman, who suddenly became far more aware of your closeness than he had been a moment before.

I fought Mihawk with a steadier pulse than this.

The ridiculous idea itself didn’t bother him in the slightest, nor did the certainty that the crew would tease him mercilessly for weeks to come. What unsettled him was the way you kept drifting into his space without the faintest idea of the storm you were stirring inside him.

You had expected him to grumble, to click his tongue in annoyance, perhaps even shift restlessly enough to send your carefully placed sushi tumbling onto the wooden floor.

Instead, as you leaned impossibly close to that absurdly broad bicep, you became acutely aware of the warmth radiating from his skin, lingering only millimeters from your lips. Beneath the delicate aroma of fresh fish and seasoned rice lingered the faint scent of sea salt, mellow sake, and the subtle cedar and hinoki oil you’d given him months ago on another island, a fragrance that had long since become unmistakably, comfortingly his. The muscles beneath your fingertips tightened almost involuntarily each time your warm breath ghosted across his skin.

Before you realized it, warmth had crept into your cheeks despite knowing every inch of that arm by heart.

He noticed immediately.

A smug little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Thought this was your idea.”

“Shut up.”

Trying very hard to pretend his ridiculous smirk wasn’t affecting you in the slightest, you reached for a piece of Moonfin tuna. As you leaned in to take it, your lips brushed against the warm skin stretched over the firm muscle of his arm.

The warmth lingering beneath the rice nearly distracted you from the immaculate sushi itself. It truly was exquisite. The fish dissolved across your tongue with an almost delicate sweetness, balanced by perfectly seasoned rice that Sanji would undoubtedly spend the next month trying to recreate. Under any other circumstances, you would’ve happily spent the next ten minutes praising every nuance of its flavor to your hopelessly enthusiastic cook.

Unfortunately for him, your attention had wandered somewhere far less culinary.

When you lifted your gaze again, your eyes met Zoro’s.

For one suspended heartbeat, neither of you looked away.

Then the flustered swordsman did.

The tips of his ears had turned an unmistakable shade of pink.

A smile tugged at your own lips. You chose not to comment on the way he’d instinctively straightened the moment your lips had lingered just long enough to catch the last few grains of rice clinging stubbornly to his bicep.

“Good?” he asked, amused now by both the absurdity of the situation and your growing fluster, while hoping his own wasn’t nearly as obvious.

“Mm.”

“Worth humiliating me?”

You didn't hesitate.

“Definitely.”

Another crooked smirk found its way onto his face.

“Then have another.”

The crew erupted.

Sanji nearly collapsed to his knees, mourning the image of his precious angel being corrupted by an uncouth brute. Beneath the table, Brook quietly slipped a handful of berries into Nami’s palm, settling whatever bet the two of them had apparently made, while Luffy barreled between the two of you before anyone could stop him.

“NOW IT’S MY TURN! GIMME! I WANNA TRY TOO! C’MON! C’MON!”

He reached for another piece balanced on the sturdy ridge of Zoro’s arm.

Zoro pulled it back before Luffy could get anywhere near it.

“Will you knock it off already?”

“You’re no fun,” Luffy huffed.

For one suspiciously convincing second, he looked as though he’d given up.

Then, like a seagull spotting unattended food, he lunged forward and took a bite out of Zoro’s arm instead.

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

A solid punch landed squarely on the captain’s head, earning an exaggerated yelp as the two immediately dissolved into yet another loud argument. Zoro looked ready to draw a sword on pure principle. You rested a calming hand against his shoulder before he could seriously consider it, while poor Usopp threw himself at Luffy in a desperate attempt to drag him away, entirely unaware that he had just volunteered himself as the next victim.

His efforts proved spectacularly futile.

Luffy abruptly abandoned Zoro altogether, declaring him “too grumpy,” and instead attempted to balance a piece of sushi on Usopp’s nose.

The resulting chorus of laughter, indignant protests, and Sanji’s horrified cries about wasting perfectly good food swept through the room, drawing everyone’s attention away from the two of you.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, you—almost shyly now—reached for one last piece resting on your green-haired swordsman’s arm.

Without looking at you, he mumbled quietly enough that only you could hear,

“…You’re the only one I’d ever consider doing something this ridiculous for.”

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest before you could stop it.

“Good to know.”

He answered only with a quiet grunt, though the faint flush still lingering at the tips of his ears betrayed him completely.

Around you, the restaurant slowly settled back into the familiar, beloved chaos that seemed to follow the Straw Hats wherever they went. Luffy was now chasing a horrified Usopp around the room with a piece of salmon balanced precariously on his finger while Sanji shouted himself hoarse in the background, torn between protecting the restaurant’s dignity and strangling his captain.

Yet somehow, amid all that familiar noise, Zoro’s quiet confession lingered longer than the taste of the meal itself.

Every moment thereafter, whether absurd enough to leave you both laughing, heavy enough to test your resolve, or beautiful enough to steal your breath away, would be met the same way: side by side, sharing each one together.

By all measures, this was a wonderful day: the sun was warm, the breeze was soft, and the clouds painted the sky with beautiful shapes. Above all else, you were finally getting to spend the day alone with Sanji, a treat all too rare on a pirate ship, let alone one with a captain whose appetite was as big as Luffy’s.

You and Sanji walked hand in hand around the bustling town the crew had stopped at as they followed the log pose through the Grand Lpine. While there was a part of you that enjoyed the excitement that came with traveling the unknowns of the Grand Line, you couldn’t deny that you always found yourself relieved to stop at a somewhat mundane island.

“Ma chérie!” Sanji pulled your attention back to the present as he steered you to a candy shop. Sanji, ever the keen chef and caring boyfriend, was well aware of your sweet tooth.  “Would you like to check it out?” He asked, looking at you with loving eyes and a smile that could warm even the coldest corners of the universe.

“Yes, please!” You beamed back, this time pulling him along as you raced into the store.

You spun around, taking in all of the different, delicate candies and chocolates surrounding you: truffles, gum drops, chocolate-covered nuts, hard candies in every color imaginable, and chocolates filled with a variety of flavors. Heaven for a sugar fiend like you.

Sanji couldn’t help but softly laugh as he watched the child-like wonder and excitement take over your features at the inventory of the confectionery. He watched as you raced around, picking one of each, promising to share with the crew, though Sanji knew the stash would hardly survive the walk back to the ship.

“Anything you want, mon amour,” he smiled, as you pointed to another sweet, love filling his soul.

***

This was a good day, a great day, perhaps one of the best you’ve ever had, even.

But the demons of the past fear not the pleasantry0 of the present.

As you stepped out of the candy shop, Sanji picked out a chocolate from the box of goodies you had chosen and went to place it in your mouth. Before the sweet could hit your tongue, however, a voice called out your name from across the marketplace. Both confused, you and Sanji turn towards the man now walking towards you. As soon as you met the man’s eyes, saw his deceivingly kind smile, and realized he was nearing your brain was thrown into the waves of memory, of lived nightmares.

You froze, tense and alert, like a deer caught under the headlights of an oncoming car. Sanji took notice immediately. He always did.

“Love?” He asked, turning to try to meet your gaze. You were already falling under the weight of the shadows in your mind.

Your heart began to race. You brought your hand to your chest, willing it to slow, but the panic had already started its steady flow through your frozen veins.

Your breath came unevenly but fast. The air felt thin, nearly nonexistent, and simultaneously fell into your lungs heavy, trailing through your throat like sap.

Your hands clammed up, freezing yet sweating. You fisted your shirt in an effort to ground yourself, to feel a sense of control. It was a fruitless endeavor.

Your eyes lost all focus. The scene before you became a collection of shifting shadows and indistinguishable blurs of color. You tried to blink it all away. This only spurred on the collection of tears now falling from your eyes.

Your mind raced. The thoughts were too fast to comprehend, too loud to ignore, and too alarming to simply push away. Falling into the grasps of past scenes, you were no longer at the market. You were once more in the hell you had hoped to never relive.

You got the sense someone was calling out to you, moving your body, but the reality of the outside world could not penetrate the protective thick iron walls that slammed down to shelter your mind from the past that had returned.

“Love?!” Sanji asked more frantically this time as he took in the panicked state that had possessed you. When you did not answer for the second time and the sparkle that always adorned your eyes dimmed out, replaced by fear, Sanji sprang into action.

He took the items from your hands and watched as you immediately brought them to your chest, balling your shirt in your fists. As his mind connected the dots between the stranger rapidly approaching and the current state you were in, he controlled his growing anger in favor of getting you into a more secluded area.

Taking the bags and securing them on his arm, Sanji gently placed his hands on both your shoulders and guided you cautiously but quickly away from the eyes of onlookers and, most importantly, the nearing presence of the stranger. Finding an alley off to the side of the sweet shop, Sanji pulled you around and positioned himself to shield you from any passersby.

His heart broke as you only seemed to fall further into the distant terrors in your mind.

As the scenes from the past bombarded you, you felt like you were transported back into the horrible place you had fought and bled and clawed your way out of. No, you didn’t feel it, you believed it. Every moment that had occurred after, every laugh, every kind touch was erased from your mind as the shadows of the past appeared before you, towering over you to remind you just how small you are.

There was no escape.

You fell against a wall behind you — when did that get there? — and sunk to your knees, bringing your arms up to shield your head, making yourself as small as possible, just as you had learned to do back then. With no strength left to hold yourself together you fully broke down, losing yourself to the past. You whimpered to the shadows that loomed over you, “p-please n-no no m-more...”

Sanji reacted in an instant, bringing himself to the ground beside you to pull you into his lap. Cradling your head, he pushed the hair out of your face, which was now damp with sweat that had come from the rapid beating of your heart and the flight response of your nervous system. Whispering comforts, he tried to ease you out of the nightmares that gripped your mind.

“Mon amour, hey.” He spoke quietly but firmly, offering you an anchor point to return to. “It’s me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He rocked you back and forth, trying to send your body the message of safety and protection. “I won’t let anything hurt you. I’ve got you, mon cœur. I’ve got you.” He rubbed your back as he tucked your head under his chin.

Slowly, agonizingly so for both of you, your mind maneuvered its way out of the horrifying maze it had itself dreamt up. Scenes of blood and torture and decades of abuse faded as the sound of Sanji’s voice lulled you into an uneasy peace, and finally, your eyes, exhausted from being squeezed shut so tightly, blinked open.

“Sanji?” Your voice was horse and tears continued to fall. “I-I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean t—“

“Darling, you have nothing to apologize for.” He pulled you closer, hugging your body tightly as he continued to rub your back. He tried not to wince as he felt your body shake, the anxiety moving through you as you continued to claw your way out of your panicked state. “Just breathe, darling. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Sanji was always so patient with you, always letting you take the time and space you needed to catch your mind back up to reality.

As you seemed to return to the present, Sanji prompted you with tools he knew could help soothe your system. “Love, can you tell me five things you can see right now?”

With a shaky breath and weak voice, you muttered, “I-I see the pebbles on the ground.” You looked up to take in more of your surroundings, although a bit of panic did spike at the thought that he might appear in your vision. Luckily, Sanji had truly tucked you away from the rest of the world. “I see the… the bricks that make up the building. Ummm, I see our shopping bags.”

“Wonderful, ma chérie. What else?” He prompted but offered a small smile of pride as he watched the tension ever so slowly melt from your body.

“I see the… the,” your eyes darted around looking for another object to point out.

“Easy, love. There’s no rush.” His hands continued to trace circles along your back.

Taking a deep breath, you continued, “I see the trash bins, and I see... you.” As you breathed out the final word, you met his gaze. The weight of his love and support crashed into you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless for a whole new reason.

“Hi, love,” he smiled back, practically feeling you physically return to your body, to him. “I’ve got you.”

“Oh, Sanji,” you cried out, falling into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened. We were having such a beautiful day, and now I’ve ruined it all—“

“You have done nothing of the sort. No day that I spend with you could ever be less than heavenly. I’m only sorry you had to go through that, that I couldn’t do more to help.” He ended with a small frown, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Is there anything I can do for you now?”

“Sanji..” His name came out as a loving sigh, as you could not believe the kindness and the selflessness he offered. Already sitting on the ground in an alley holding you as you sobbed, what more could he possibly do for you that he hasn’t already done? “Mon ange,” you spoke to him in his native language, sending a blush to his face, “you truly must be from heaven.”

Sanji went to speak up, to deny the claim and turn the compliment back on you, but you cut him off as you pulled him in to a bone-crushing hug, well as bone crushing of a hug one could give after coming down from a panic attack.

Speaking into his shoulder as you nuzzled into the smooth fabric of his jacket, you said, “The only thing I need is you. Just you.”

Sanji was more than happy to comply, holding you tightly, brushing his hand through your hair on the ground in the back alley of the market for as long as you needed. “You have me, dear. You have me.”

He repeated those words as he carried your sleeping form back to the Sunny. He repeated it as he tucked you into bed. He pledged them to the universe as he cooked you a comforting meal to wake up to. He wielded them like a sword as he ordered the crew to keep the noise down to allow you the peaceful rest you required and deserved. He practically carved those words into the wind as he picked out a handful of the candies you were so excited for and took them to your room, a surprise for when you awoke.

When you did finally wake, stumbling into the galley well past dinner time while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, to search for your love, he swore to live every day making sure you knew just how deeply he meant it.

“Sanji?” You spoke, voice heavy with sleep still. You walked towards him, as he seemed to freeze in place at the sound of your voice.

“Mon cœur,” he spoke breathless, the air stolen from his lungs by the beauty of your figure calling out to him. “My love, how did you sleep? How are you feeling?” He made his way over to wrap his hands around your waist and pull you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with his hand for support.

“I slept well, Sanji,” you pulled back to smile up at him. “Thank you again for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I-I know it can be a lot, so I really appreciate you putting up with—“

“Love, stop." He brought his hands up to cup your face, ensuring he had your full attention. "I do not put up with you. I do not put up with your attacks. They are cruel to your mind and body, but they are you, and I love every part of you. I would gladly spend every moment of my life on this Earth giving you all that you need, all that you deserve. Offering you support in your hardest moments is an honor, never a burden.”

“Y-you mean that?”

“With every atom of my existence.” His voice was so serious, laced with devotion so deep it nearly scared you.

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve you.”

“You are mistaken, ma belle. It is I who does not deserve you.” Before you could argue, Sanji wrapped his fingers around yours to gently pull you to the table, pulling out a chair and inviting you to sit. After ensuring you were comfortable in your seat, he moved swiftly to the galley to prepare the food he had made especially for you. Returning just as quickly as he left, Sanji set the plate before you and took a seat beside you.

“My favorite! Aww, Sanji, you really didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”

“If not for you, then who, my dear? And besides, cooking for love is never a chore; it is a privilege.” He sent you a wink as he nudged you to eat.

As you lifted your fork to begin to eat, you paused to ask Sanji, “Did I miss any good stories at dinner?”

He knew a part of you felt guilty for missing dinner with the crew, but he let that go in favor of recounting some of the adventures the others had found themselves on earlier in the day, offering you a bit of distraction and entertainment. Seeing you laugh at Luffy’s antics was certainly a plus as well.

As your plate emptied, a yawn escaped your throat, prompting Sanji to start clearing your space and asking, “Ready for bed, love?”

“I guess so,” you laugh before another yawn befell you. “You’d think I’d be wide awake given that I slept half the day.”

“You had an... eventful day, love. No shame in taking some time to rest.”

“I don’t suppose that logic could be applied to you, too, could it? I… always sleep better next to you.” You blushed, turning your head away in an effort to hide it.

Sanji smiled widely as he dried the freshly cleaned dishes. “For you, mon amour, my schedule is always clear.”

Sanji truly believed the smile that lit up your face would one day send him to an early grave, one he would leap into willingly. Placing the towel down, Sanji approached you, holding out his arm. “Shall we, dear?”

Giggling, you wrapped your own arm around his. “We shall.” You rested your head on his shoulder as he guided you towards his cabin.

As you both settled in to bed, your head on his chest and his hands around your waist, rubbing small circles in an effort to lull you into sweet dreams, you used the last of your conscious energy to whisper, “Sanji?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“You have me, too. Always.”

Looking down, taking in your half-sleeping features, Sanji couldn’t help but tear up at the love he gave being so easily, so shamelessly returned. He would strive every day to be worthy of such a gift. “Always,” he whispered back, placing a kiss on your forehead and allowing himself to follow you into sleep.

“Obviously it's __” Law just responds easily, saying your name, like he didn't even have to think.

“__?! But she's not even part of the main cast captain, she's turned up in like three comics!” Jean Bart protests, “Besides, wasn't Stealth Black your favourite captain?”

“You can have more than one favourite.” Law murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest, “Besides, __ was integral to poison pink and winch green getting out of the fight against the parasitic fog, without her, they would have died on that mission and we wouldn't have seen Sparkling Red's eyes”

"I- Alright fine, she is great, but still, she barely turns up” Shachi says as he adjusts his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Which sucks, we only have poison pink, that's a woman. Which edition does __ turn up in? I don’t think I've read that far yet” Ikkaku says.

“Edition 23, 32 and 45. You have to read them in a different order for that arc to make sense though. Start with edition 22, then 23, then you go read from 30 to 32 and then finish the arc in edition 45 before you start the sparkling red arc” Law explains and starts to gather up the editions in order for Ikkaku to read, he then hands them to her.

“Aww man, the sparkling red arc, we've still got to find the rest of those don't we captain?” Bepo frowns

“Yeah, we've searched the entire North Blue and there's no leads left there” Law mutters, slightly annoyed, it had been bugging him for ages. The sparkling red and the finale arc were the only arcs that the Heart Pirates were missing. There were old rumours of a your arc that Penguin had found but there were no real leads about that secret arc.

“Aren't we supposed to be cheering for Sora?” Penguin asks, but hes grinning.

“What? Hell no, the villains are so much cooler, especially Dengeki Blue, hes such an asshole” Ikkaku just responds and Law huffs a breath of amusement out from his nose as he lets a lazy grin tug at his lips.

“If they wanted us to root for the hero, then they shouldn't have made the villains so cool” Law simply says, “Besides, the villains are always better in stories”

“Hah! Can't argue with that!” Shachi grins, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

~☆~

☆ And then there was that day where Law's alliance with Strawhat Luffy and those time lost samurai had given him the greatest gift he'd seen after the battle in Dressrosa against Doflamingo. In return for Laws help with destroying the SMILE fruit factories and Doflamingo with Luffy?

☆ Momonoske had asked Kanjuro to use his devil fruit in order to create the rest of the Sora warrior of the sea comic line. But, Kanjuro had also seen your design on one of those covers and decided to paint you too, bringing you to life with his devil fruit,

☆ And Law just freezes as soon as he sees you burst out of the paper, because you’re exactly how he imagined, exactly how you were presented in the comics. But this time, you were real, your small mannerisms of how you stood werent static on paper anymore, no, you were real, down to the smallest details of your suit and weapons,

☆ You were actually real and Law didnt know what to do with himself, the other crew in the Heart Pirates were shocked but they were collecting the comics and so looking forward to reading them later to see how the story finally finished, a story that had taken years in order to finally get every edition

“Well aren't you a brooding type?~” You smile as you move up to Law, this one took your interest,

“I-i… __?” Law can't help but sputter your name out in shock, if there was a moment for a reclrd scratch sound effect it was now, his mind couldn't grasp that you were real, actually real. You, a character that he had barely seen any content of, the same one that plagued his mind and that he had theorised many things about and finally you were here that he could just ask you everything himself.

“You know my name? Are you one of Stealth Black’s allies?”

“Y-yeah..I am.”

Law says, he doesnt know what else to do, so he just agrees.

☆ Its a bit strange getting used to the fact that you're a fictional character in Law's world, its not like the guy obsessively knows everything about you because he literally can't, you're such a niche but very important character that people usually ignore in favour of the main five villains or Sora himself… But Law had found himself liking you a lot, your attacks, the way that you interacted with everyone and constantly had a rivalry with Dengeki Blue.

☆ And well, you find it a bit hard to adjust to the real world, but Law is there to help you, you joined his crew and quickly found your place.

"So you can tear out people's organs? Thats so cool, if we had you on the team then we'd be able to defeat Sora! He'd have no chance!"

☆ And Law would just kind of, short circuit as you'd ramble on about how cool his devil fruit is. He's done the exact same rambles about how cool your fighting style and abilities were to Bepo and Penguin, so hearing you do the same to him? Well, he just felt himself falling for you more.

"Are those...figurines?"

"Uhh, it's not what it looks like"

☆ Law moves over quickly to try and hide the figurines that he has of you and the Germa 66 squad, but you are already moving and you duck under his arm as you crouch and pick up the figurine that represents yourself,

"Woah, I didnt know i was this popular!"

"I....made that one, polymer clay and some acrylic paints" Law mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, you were a niche character after all, Law couldn't find any merchandise of you...so he resorted to making you himself,

"You made this?! It's so cool"

"I just...I dont think i did you enough justice with how pretty you are."

☆ And Law always grips the comics a bit tighter whenever you lean against his side and start to read with him, talking about your allies to him and letting him know exactly what each of them are like in your world,

“Oh, you should know” You just grin as you point at a panel on the comic, “Winch Green went into the wall here, his boosters malfunctioned and it caused them to charge him into the wall” You grin as you stayed lent against him,

☆ Law loves knowing things about you, your hobbies, he defintley tried to hide all of the sketches that he had about you in that old sketch pad that laid beside his theory book,

“Hey Captain, Did you draw these, these are really good” You just smile as you keep flicking through the pages of the sketchbook before Law coughs and takes the book from you, shutting it and placing it back into his drawer,

“Its just a few sketches” He’d mutter under his breath, he wasnt good with taking compliments and his cheeks were flushing slightly, "Besides...how can't I draw my muse?"

☆ Law had found himself drawing you ever since he saw you come out of that paper, he just…couldnt help it, you were his muse, a muse that had infested his mind and had never left, and now? Now it seems like you'll always stay his muse now that you were real, he still couldn't believe that you were on his crew,

2026 by Spark-Canon-Spark. Any and all works cannot be used, edited or republished without the creators permission!

Law came over at exactly 2am, just like he said he would.

The sudden buzz of the doorbell echoed through the quiet of the flat, slicing through the hazy, post-shower euphoria you were currently floating in. You were still naked, your skin damp and smelling of expensive soap, the phantom sensation of Kid's heavy grip still pulsing in your hips. You didn't bother with a robe, opting instead for one of your oversized, paint-splattered t-shirts that barely covered the curve of your thighs, leaving your legs bare and the fresh bandages on your knees starkly white against your skin.

When you opened the door, Law was leaning against the frame, looking like a man who had been fighting a losing battle with sleep for the last forty-eight hours. He was still in his scrubs, the dark fabric wrinkled and smelling faintly of antiseptic and stale hospital coffee. His golden eyes were underlined with heavy, bruised shadow, and his usual clinical composure was frayed at the edges, leaving him looking raw and exhausted.

Despite the fatigue, he didn't look at you with the shock most people would have when faced with a half-dressed woman at two in the morning. Instead, his gaze drifted slowly up from your bare toes to your eyes, a flicker of affection and a low-frequency hunger you knew all too well crossing his features.

"You look like hell," you purred, leaning against the doorframe and mirroring his posture.

"And you look like you've been in some type of street fight," he countered, his voice a low rasp that sent a different kind of shiver down your spine than Kid's groans had. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the bandages on your legs and the slight, telltale flush of your skin. "Or a very… aggressive encounter. Which one is it?"

You grinned, stepping back to let him in. "Why not both?"

Law let out a huff of a laugh, stepping into the entryway and closing the door behind him with a soft click. In his hand, he held a brown paper bag that smelled of greasy takeout and spicy soy - your favorite midnight craving from the place three blocks over.

"I figured you'd be starving, regardless of whatever chaos you've managed to attract today," he murmured, walking past you toward the kitchen.

As he moved, you watched the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of his exhaustion, yet he still carried himself with that surgical grace that was so typical for him, every movement calculated. Law was the antithesis of the storm that was Eustass Kid. Where Kid was a forest fire, Law was a deep, still lake, quiet on the surface, but capable of pulling you under into a crushing and cold depth if you weren't careful.

You followed him into the kitchen, sliding onto the counter and swinging your legs. "You're a lifesaver, Trafalgar. I might have actually fainted from hunger if you hadn't shown up."

He began unpacking the containers with practiced efficiency, his long, slender fingers moving with the grace of a man who spent his days manipulating the most delicate structures of the human body. He didn't look up as he spoke, but his tone was laced with a quiet, knowing amusement.

"I seriously doubt that. You've always had a surprising amount of stamina when it comes to your projects."

The word project hung in the air, and you immediately knew what he meant. It was a subtle not to the way you treated people, and you felt that familiar prickle of tension that always came when your conversations turned in that direction. You and Law had a shared history that was written in a language of contradictions. When you were eighteen, you had tried the traditional route together, which naturally came with the corresponding labels, the expectations, and the overall steady and predictable rhythm of a committed relationship. But Law, even then, had a need for order and a specific set of requirements for how a partnership should function. He wanted peace; you wanted an adventure. He wanted a partner who fit into the precise architecture of his life, and you… you were a smudge of ink on a clean page.

Regardless of that, Law had been an amazing partner, and so the breakup hadn't been messy, but simply a mutual realization that the term "boyfriend and girlfriend" felt like a cage for the both of you. So, you had pivoted. You had settled into this strange, symbiotic orbit - friends who knew each other's darkest secrets, casual partners who could call each other at 2am without explanation, and exes who still found the pull of the other irresistible.

"I prefer the term enthusiast," you corrected, reaching for a spring roll.

Law finally looked up, his gaze locking onto yours. The exhaustion was still there, but it was being overtaken by something else, a focused intensity that was entirely directed at you. He stepped closer, until the scent of him you've grown so fond of overpowered the lingering smell of Kid's musk. He reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of the bandage on your knee.

The touch was light, assessing at first, but as his thumb brushed against the skin just above the gauze, the temperature in the room suddenly seemed to spike.

"Who did this?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

"My own stupidity. Crashed my bike today. Yes, I'm getting it fixed, so please no lectures."

"Mhm."

"You don't seem happy with my answer… what, would you have preferred if I said these were from a very grumpy mechanic?" you asked, your voice dipping into a sultry whisper you knew would get under his skin. You watched his pupils dilate, the golden hue of his eyes darkening.

Law didn't ask for a name. He didn't need to. He could read the signs - the way your breath hitched, the way your body leaned instinctively toward him, and the lingering, electric energy that clung to you. He knew you, and he knew exactly how you looked when you had been thoroughly wrecked by someone.

"You're a menace," he murmured, but there was no judgment in it, which you appreciated. Instead, there was a trace of possessiveness, and you couldn't hide the involuntary grin that spread on your face. This was the second man today who wanted you all to himself without even realizing he did.

He didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he slid it upward, his palm flat against your thigh, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of your shirt. He moved slowly, agonizingly so, his touch a stark contrast to the one you had experienced earlier today.

"I'm exhausted, Y/N," he breathed, his face now only inches away from yours. "I've spent fourteen hours in an operating room, and all I've wanted since the moment I clocked out was to see you."

"Just to see me?", you teased, though your heart was hammering against your ribs.

"Among other things."

Law's hand tightened on your thigh, pulling you forward until your chest brushed against his scrubs. He didn't kiss you immediately. He lingered there, his breath ghosting over your lips, letting the tension build until it was a physical weight between you. It was a psychological game, a slow-burn torture that he knew you loved.

When he finally closed the gap, the kiss was nothing like the ones you shared with Kid earlier. Law tasted of mint and caffeine, his tongue sliding against yours with a slow deliberation that felt like he was mapping out your mouth, searching for every sensitive nerve ending.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands flying up to grip the back of his neck, pulling him closer. You wanted the friction, the heat, the visceral feeling of him. Law responded by gently lifting you off the counter and you automatically hooked your legs around his waist. He groaned, a low sound of surrender, as he carried you out of the kitchen and toward your bedroom.

He didn't toss you onto the bed. Law was a gentle man most of the time, especially in the bedroom, and so he lowered you onto it slowly, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. His usual steady hand, such an important trait as a surgeon, was now trembling slightly with the effort of maintaining control.

"I can tell you're still humming," Law whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of your ear. "I can feel it. You're still so wound up from whoever you were with."

"Does that bother you, Trafalgar?" you gasped, arching your back as his other hand began to roam freely, tracing the curve of your waist with a lightness that made you ache.

"Bother me?" He let out a dark, soft chuckle, his teeth nipping at the junction of your neck and shoulder. "No. It just means you're already primed. It means I don't have to work as hard to get you to the edge."

His hand left slid further down, from your waist to your thigh, but the second his fingers pressed the wrong spot, you sucked in a sharp breath and flinched, a pained wince replacing the smile you'd been wearing. Law immediately looked up. The raw, hungry energy that had been driving him for the last few minutes suddenly collided with his ingrained medical instincts. His eyes, which had been clouded with lust, sharpened as they flicked down to where his hand had just touched you.

He let go of you instantly, and before you could move to pull him closer again, he pressed a firm hand against your shoulder, pushing you back against the mattress.

"Sit up," he commanded, his voice regaining that authoritative tone you were used to. "I need to see how you actually treated these wounds."

You let out a loud, exaggerated groan, flopping back into the pillows and pouting. "Dude, seriously? You're really going to pull the doctor card right now? In the middle of this?" You arched your back, the oversized t-shirt riding up to expose the curve of your hips, your voice dropping into a needy whine. "I don't care about the scrapes, seriously, the pain isn't even that bad. I just want you inside me. Right now. Please."

Law didn't even blink. He shifted, moving to the edge of the bed and reaching for your leg. He gripped your calf with a steady hand, lifting your leg to rest it across his lap. His touch was light, but his expression was one of profound disapproval as he began to carefully peel back the edge of the bandage.

"This is appalling," he muttered, his brow furrowing. "Who did this? Did you actually use a manual, or did you just wrap it in the dark without even checking to see if you were doing it right?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of annoyance. "I did a perfectly fine job! It stopped the bleeding, didn't it?"

"It's sloppy, Y/N. It's completely uneven, and you've trapped a piece of lint under the gauze," he countered, his voice dry and unimpressed. He reached for a small medical kit he always kept in his bag - because of course he did - and began to clean the area with a precision that was almost hypnotic.

You watched him, the way his long fingers moved with such effortless grace, the focused set of his jaw, and the way his golden eyes remained locked on to the task with absolute dedication. Despite your initial frustration, a surge of heat pooled in your lower belly. There was something about his competence, the way he took complete control of the situation and immediately started taking care of him, that was an aphrodisiac in itself.

 "You're so sexy when you're in full doctor mode," you purred, your voice dripping with honeyed mischief.

Law's hand paused for a fraction of a second and you could see a small muscle jumping in his jaw. "Stop talking and hold still."

You obviously didn't hold still.

While he was preoccupied with your right leg, you slowly lifted your other foot. You started high, your toes grazing the fabric of his scrubs at his chest, tracing the hard line of his pectorals through the dark material. You felt him stiffen and saw the way his breath hitched, but he didn't stop working on your knee, though his movements became slightly less steady.

You let your leg slide lower, the arch of your foot pressing against the center of his chest, sliding down the valley of his stomach. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body was reacting to your touch even as he tried to maintain his professional facade. When your toes finally reached the waistband of his scrubs, you didn't stop. You pressed your foot simply against the growing bulge in his trousers, circling the head of his cock through the fabric.

Law let out a low, strangled sound, his grip on your leg tightening. "Y/N… I am trying to ensure you don't get an infection."

"Fuck that. I think I can handle a little risk," you whispered, your eyes locking onto his.

You began to move your foot in a rhythmic motion, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. You used your toes to tease him, sliding up and down the length of him, mimicking the motion your hand would normally do. You could feel him hardening rapidly beneath the fabric, the sheer size of him pressing back against your sole. Law's clinical mask finally shattered; his head tilted back, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a ragged moan, his hips involuntarily jerking forward into your foot.

You didn't let up, increasing the pace and the pressure until he was fully, painfully hard, and his breath was only coming in shallow, desperate bursts. He abandoned the bandage entirely as his hands slid from your leg to grip your thighs with his knuckles almost completely white.

"You… you absolute menace," he rasped, his voice a complete wreck. God, you loved the effect you always had on him.

Without another word, Law shifted. He fully slid off the mattress and knelt on the floor between your legs. The position was one of complete surrender, one he had taken so many times before already, yet the look in his eyes was anything but submissive. He looked up at you, and the way his eyes burned with such an obvious hunger for you made your toes curl.

He didn't ask for permission, and you didn't expect nor want him to. He simply reached up, grasping your thighs and pulling you to the very edge of the bed so that you were perched on the precipice and your legs were draped over his strong shoulders.

When his tongue first made contact with you, you let out a sharp, strangled scream and your fingers immediately dove into his black hair, gripping the strands tightly.

Law's tongue game was a revelation. He was precise, methodical, and devastatingly effective, and you swore up and down that no man would ever be this good with his tongue like he was. He started slow, swirling his tongue around your clitoris in small, agonizing circles that had you sobbing his name within seconds, before he began to lap at you with long, sweeping strokes. He knew exactly where to press, exactly how much pressure he needed to apply, and exactly when to suck you deep into his mouth to send a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You were shaking by now, your hips bucking instinctively against his face where his facial hair scratched you deliciously, and you pulled him closer and closer until there was no space left between the two of you. He groaned against your wetness, the sound vibrating through your entire body, and he didn't stop until you were a screaming, sobbing mess, your climax hitting you in a shattering wave that left you breathless and limp.

A satisfied, lazy smile spread on your face, and as the aftershocks faded, you slowly looked down at the man who always managed to please you so well. Law was panting, a thin trail of your moisture glistening on his lip, his eyes hooded and dark. You noticed the way his shoulders were still slumped, the heavy shadows under his eyes reminding you that he had just come from a fourteen-hour shift. He was exhausted, his body running on nothing but fumes and pure desire.

A wave of affection hit you, and you decided to take the pressure off of him and take the lead instead.

"My turn, Doctor," you whispered with a raspy voice.

You shifted, sliding off the bed and pushing him back onto the mattress. You stripped out of the oversized shirt in one fluid motion, carelessly tossing it aside and straddling his waist. You reached down, undoing the drawstring of his scrubs and pushing them down along with his underwear.

When he finally sprang free, you paused for a heartbeat, your gaze trailing over him.

You couldn't help it; your mind instinctively flashed back to the afternoon in the garage. Kid had been big - thick, heavy, and almost intimidating in his girth, a blunt force that felt like it was stretching you to your absolute limit. Law was different. You didn't quite know how to accurately describe it, but he was leaner and more elegant in his proportions, but he was also impossibly long. He somehow looked like a polished piece of art, a sleek, pulsing length of heat that promised you a completely different kind of fullness.

You didn't even fully realize you were comparing them; you just knew that the sight of him made your mouth water all over again. It's been a while - Law had been so busy lately that you hadn't seen him for quite some time, which obviously also meant he hadn't been inside you for far too long.

"Don't just stare at it, Y/N," Law rumbled, and you could've sworn there was a hint of humor in his voice. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Okay, ew. That was so unsexy. You're 26, not 50. Never say that again, please and thank you."

Regardless, you let out a soft laugh at his comment and slowly lowered yourself onto him.

The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. Because of his length, you felt him slide deep into you, filling spaces even Kid hadn't reached. He hit a spot so deep inside your womb that it made your vision blur and your eyes sting with unshed tears of pleasure. You let out a long, shaky exhale, your head falling back as you settled completely onto him, the sheer depth of the invasion stealing the air from your lungs.

"God, Law…" you whimpered, your hands pressing flat against his muscular chest.

Law groaned, his hands coming up to grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He didn't move at first, just letting you adjust to the feeling of him filling you to the brim. Then, he began to tilt his pelvis upward, meeting your descent with an enthusiastic thrust.

You took charge of the pace, beginning to ride him in an agonizing, grinding circle. You loved the way he felt inside of you - the lean, hard stretch of him sliding in and out of your pussy and the way he seemed to reach every single nerve ending. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest as your lips found his in a kiss that tasted of nothing but pure desperation.

Law's breath was ragged, his grip on your hips tightening as you increased the speed. He wasn't as aggressive as Kid, but there was a focused intensity to his movements, a surgical precision to the way he hit your G-spot with every single upward thrust. You were riding him hard and frantically, your hair flying wild and your voice echoing through the room in a series of broken moans and pleas.

"Faster… please, Law, faster," you sobbed, your body humming with a tension that was rapidly reaching its breaking point.

Law responded by gripping your waist once again and pulling you down hard, his thrusts becoming even deeper and more urgent. The friction was incredible, the sensation of his length sliding against your tight walls creating the kind of heat that felt like it was melting you from the inside out. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his own composure slipping as he chased the edge alongside you.

The world narrowed down to nothing but you and him in your room, the sound of skin slapping together, and the heavy, synchronized rhythm of your breathing. You felt the coil in your gut tighten, a white-hot pressure building until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm… I'm going to-!"

You didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence. You could only scream as your climax hit, the release so violent your muscles clamped impossibly tight around him. The sensation of you squeezing him was the final trigger; Law let out a guttural moan, his body stiffening as he thrust upward one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible as he erupted inside you with a flood of cum so strong it seemed to never end.

You stayed pinned beneath him for several long minutes, the only sound in the room the heavy thumping of your hearts and the ragged cadence of your breathing. The air was thick with the scent of sex and the lingering heat of the encounter. As Law slowly began to withdraw, the sensation of him leaving you felt like a sudden, unwelcome loss of warmth, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him there just a little longer.

"Stay," you whispered, your voice a soft, honeyed thrum. You reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with a fingertip with wide, shimmering eyes. "I think I've finally realized that you're the only man who truly understands me, Trafalgar. My soul just… vibrates when I'm with you."

Law let out a huff, a sound that was half-sigh and half-chuckle. He didn't pull away, but he didn't buy into the drama either. He had long since learned that your romantic declarations were like the weather - beautiful, frequent, and prone to changing without warning. You were a creature of passion and play, and while he adored your affection, he knew your words were mostly for theatrical effect.

"Your soul is probably just vibrating because of the orgasm, Y/N," he countered, though he leaned down to press a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead.

"You're so cold," you pouted, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him down for one more slow, sweet kiss. "But that's why I love you. You're the best ex-boyfriend a woman could ever ask for."

He gave you a look of profound skepticism, but there was a softness in his eyes that he only ever showed to you. Eventually, he disentangled himself from your grip, the cold air hitting your damp skin as he stood up. He looked exhausted - truly exhausted, especially after all of this - his movements slow as he gathered his discarded scrubs.

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "And while I'm doing that, I'll reheat the food. I'll bring it back here once I'm clean."

You beamed at him, leaning back on your elbows and letting your gaze wander over his lean frame. "See? Attentive, talented, and he brings me dinner in bed. You're actually perfect boyfriend material, Law. Seriously, why the hell did I ever break up with you?"

Law had a deadpan expression on his face as he paused at the bathroom door. "I'm sure you know exactly why, Y/N. Now be quiet and try not to set the room on fire while I'm gone."

"How would I even manage to do that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you'd find a way."

The door then clicked shut, and the sound of the shower starting echoed through the apartment. For a few moments, you lay there in the blissful afterglow, feeling warm, sated, and also incredibly mischievous. The haze was still there, but it was quickly being overtaken by that familiar, itching desire to cause a little bit of trouble.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, the screen illuminating your face in the dim light. Your thumb hovered over your contacts until you found the name you knew would give you the most entertaining reaction.

Eustass Kid.

You glanced toward the bathroom, hearing the water running, and then looked back at the screen. A slow, cunning smirk spread across your lips. You weren't feeling particularly modest after the session with Law, and the thought of Kid's reaction was too tempting to pass up.

You shifted your position, angling the camera just right to capture the curve of your hip, your marked breasts, and a tantalizing glimpse of where Law had just been inside of. It was a shot that screamed sex appeal, without saying a word.

You hit send.

For about thirty seconds, there was silence. Then, your phone vibrated with a violence that almost knocked it flat out of your hand.

Kid: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS?!

You giggled, your chest heaving as you started typing a response, but before you hit send, the chat bubble disappeared. You blinked. You tried to send a message, but a small notification popped up: You cannot message this user.

"Blocked," you whispered, a delighted grin widening on your face. "That motherfucker actually blocked me."

You waited patiently. You knew him. Kid was an impulsive and prideful man, and he was currently fighting a war between his anger and his curiosity.

True to form, a minute later, he unblocked you. A new message slammed into your notifications.

Kid: DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA HOW DISRESPECTFUL YOU ARE? WHO THE TELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE PLAYING WITH?! I'M NOT SOME PATHETIC PUPPY YOU CAN JUST TEASE BECAUSE YOU'RE BORED! YOU REALLY ARE A GODDAMN DISASTER, AND I HOPE YOU TRIP OVER YOUR OWN FEET FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK!

You were practically vibrating with laughter now, clutching the phone to your chest and frantically wiping the tears away that started rolling down your face. He was so easy to wind up it was honestly pathetic. You started typing "Aw, are you jealous you're not in my bed right now, Eustass?💋, but as soon as you hit send, the delivered checkmark never appeared.

Blocked again.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling and laughing silently so Law wouldn't hear you. This was becoming one of your favorite rituals at this point, and to think you only met him a few hours ago. You knew you would grow addicted to the cycle of hatred and obsession that defined your dynamic with Kid. It was simply the funniest thing in your life.

And, as if on cue, the block was lifted for the third time. He didn't even send a message this time; he just unblocked you, likely to see if you were still typing, his frustration probably warring with the fact that he couldn't actually stop looking at the photo.

You watched the "Kid is typing…" bubble appear, disappear, appear again, and then disappear once more. He was probably screaming into a pillow or punching a wall in his garage right now.

The sound of the shower finally cut off, followed by the muffled noise of the microwave beeping in the kitchen a little later. You were still scrolling through your phone, checking your other messages while simultaneously watching the "typing…" bubble from Kid dance on the screen, when the bedroom door creaked open.

Law stepped back into your room, trailing a faint scent of sandalwood and steam. He was wearing his pajama pants - the ones he kept in your drawer for nights like these - but he was shirtless, his damp black hair sticking to his forehead in messy clumps. Droplets of water still clung to the lean muscles of his chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen, glistening under the soft amber light of the bedside lamp. He was carrying a tray with two steaming plates of food and a couple of drinks.

You stopped breathing for a second, your gaze traveling slowly from his toes up to those beautiful golden eyes of his. You didn't even try to be subtle.

"You know," you purred, your voice dropping an octave as you let your eyes linger on his abs, "I think I've suddenly lost my appetite for the food. I'm much more interested in a second course of you."

Law didn't even flinch. He didn't blush, and he didn't smile; he simply walked over to the bed and set the tray down on the nightstand with a clinical level of steadiness. He looked down at you, his expression one of exhausted endurance.

"Eat your food, Y/N," he replied flatly. "Before it gets cold and you start complaining that the texture is wrong."

You let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto your stomach and propping your chin in your hands. "You're such a killjoy, Trafalgar. A smart, shirtless, incredibly sexy killjoy."

"I'm a doctor who needs six hours of sleep," he countered, though he reached out and affectionately flicked your forehead before sliding into bed beside you.

You giggled and reached for the plate, the food tasting even better than usual because of the blissful, post-sex atmosphere of the room. You ate happily, leaning into Law's side, feeling the steady warmth of his skin and the quiet comfort of his presence. For a while, the world was just the two of you, the taste of a good meal, and the soft noises of the city outside.

Just as you were finishing the last bite, your phone buzzed on the mattress.

You picked it up, expecting another string of all-caps insults or another block-and-unblock cycle. Instead, there was only a single, short message.

Kid: Come back to the garage next week.

There was no apology, and certainly no "please", though you didn't expect one in the first place. It was a demand, a blunt and grumpy command that practically bled desperation.

You stared at the screen for a moment, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. You didn't reply. You didn't need to. The realization that you had, once again, played the game perfectly, felt like a perfect victory. You effortlessly weaved yourself perfectly into the lives of two very different men, and now, you had Eustass Kid exactly where you wanted him.

He was hooked. He was addicted to the chaos you brought into his life, to you, and he couldn't stand the thought of you being anywhere else.

"Yeah, just like that," Zoro says, his voice barely above a whisper. He places his hands on your ass, spreading them enough for him to see his thick, hard dick coming in and out of your soaked pussy.

Sex in the crow's nest was your favorite thing to do when it was either you or Zoro's turn for night watch. It was the only time you two could get intimate without having to worry about anyone giving you weird looks. Plus, the both of you enjoyed savoring the moment of it, wanting to remember the feeling like it would never come again.

"Fuck," Zoro whined when you dug your ass into his crotch, taking his dick completely. "Feels so fuckin' good. Pussy's all mine."

"You like it, baby?" You asked, looking over your shoulder and giving a teasing smile at Zoro.

"Course I do," he answered, giving you a grin when an idea popped into his head.

He moves his knees to place his feet on the floor after shifting his hands from your ass to your hips. Zoro spreads his legs as far as he can to get the perfect grip and angle to change who's in control now.

Zoro sharply thrusts his hips into you, impaling you with his large dick. The sudden move earns the loudest moan that has ever escaped from your mouth. The pleasure of it reaching your sweet spot made your body ache for the sharp thrust again. But before you could complain about Zoro stopping, he turned you around, now facing him.

"Let me make you feel good," he said as he caressed your cheek, admiring the way you looked. Naked, sweaty, and of course, on top of him. Zoro pulled you in, placing his left arm to hold your shoulder and his right arm to hold your lower back.

"You ready f'me?" he asked, his voice becoming completely obvious that he was filled with lust. You hummed in response, slightly coming out as a moan; you were getting impatient and needed to feel him thrust into you again.

Hearing your whiny response, Zoro doesn't wait any longer. Without any warning, he rapidly thrusts his hips into you. The tip of his dick constantly rubbing and hitting that sweet spot of yours makes your eyes roll back as you feel the overwhelming pleasure of it. At this point, you felt nothing but the sweet sensation of Zoro's thick, hard dick coming in and out of your pussy as it abused your upper wall over, and over, and over, never seeming like he was going to stop anytime soon.

Your hands scattered to whatever you could grip on. His shoulders, his hair, the hard floor, even his face. You couldn't get yourself to stop moaning like a mess. But how could you when Zoro's girthy dick kept coming in and out of you repeatedly as his balls slapped your ass, also managing to feel so damn good while you're both deep in pleasure.

"Fuck, oh my fucking god," you loudly moaned out. Zoro could already tell you were at your limit; he knew when you were feeling the intense pleasure of your incoming orgasm. He immediately fastens the pace, also to chase the rapture of his orgasm.

At this point, neither of you cared if the sounds of you and your boyfriend's sweaty skin clapping against each other or the sounds of your loud moaning like a little slut woke up your crewmates. You were about to reach your high, and that's all that matters to you at the moment.

"Zoro," you moaned out his name in complete pleasure. You could feel his heavy breathing against your right shoulder as he grunted at the feeling of your pussy becoming tighter to prepare for its release.

"Doing so good, baby. Just keep takin' this fucking dick."

"Zoro!" you moaned again as your orgasm hit. In that same moment, you felt Zoro's thick, hot cum fill inside you, mixing up with yours as well. The feeling of his cum mixed with yours made you feel full. Especially since his girthy, hard dick was still deep inside you.

Zoro plops himself back on the floor, already tired of placing all his strength into the last thrust. You stay lying on his chest, not minding the fact that your boyfriend will soon doze off, completely forgetting about what had just happened. But you didn't seem to mind it either, since your eyes slowly began to close, feeling heavier than usual, dozing off to sleep in the end as well.

“Not entirely convinced on the mind reading thing yet,” Franky commented. “Two hours in and you have the whole thing down perfectly.”

You smirked proudly and held out your bottle to him. He took it and popped the top off with an opener in his palm, handing it back. Sanji tapped a bottle opener against the bar and you turned back to him with a smile.

“You’re busy making a drink for Nami,” you defended yourself. “And Franky has one right in his hand.”

Franky grinned. “Got pretty much everything. Never know what you’re going to need.”

Sanji sighed dramatically and continued preparing Nami’s drink. If he had a voice, you felt very sure he would be mumbling something under his breath that would make you giggle. You enjoyed tormenting him sometimes.

Unfortunately, even if he’d tried to speak, it wouldn’t have been too useful.

It felt like only a few minutes ago that he’d given you a kiss, opened his mouth to offer something, and said absolutely nothing. Chopper confirmed it was probably a lingering side effect of some nonsense he’d breathed in on the last island you’d stopped at. It would wear off in a few hours.

Which naturally meant that you had become an impromptu translator until then.

And not a very good one at that. You knew what Sanji wanted to say – after so long at his side, it would be impossible not to – and for the most part, you got there eventually. The main difference was that you refused to make it sound quite right.

A hand grew from the ground, passing Robin’s bottle over so Franky could open it too before carrying it back to where she sat in the sun with a book resting against her knees.

“Robin, darling!” you called. “Can Sanji offer you an appetizer before lunch?”

She laughed to herself. “I’m quite alright, thank you.”

Sanji had had no intention of offering extra food but he still smiled at you fondly as he finished Nami’s drink. You had to be entertaining him, if not getting his words across. Even if that meant listening to you attempt to compliment the two women every time they appeared in your line of sight.

He placed it down next to her seat and you immediately turned to her, waiting for her thank you so you could offer the appropriate level of devotion.

“Anything for you, Nami! Your beauty is absolutely unmatched in this world!”

She laughed and blew a kiss to you that you made a show of catching and pressing to your heart.

“Aw, come on man, that wasn’t accurate,” Franky ribbed. “She blew you a kiss. Where’s the nosebleed? The fainting? You’ve got to commit to being your man fully if you’re going to do it.”

Sanji rolled his eyes as he walked past you, pausing briefly to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear affectionately.

You smiled up at him. “Thank you for whatever compliment you’re giving me mentally, right now,” you said. “I’m thinking it’s somewhere along the lines of me still being beautiful even if I did get a nosebleed.”

He shrugged as though it was good enough before he returned to the bar, grabbed a napkin, and quickly wrote something down. He held it out to you and you read the flattery with a warm smile.

“Aw, thank you love,” you said. “You’re too sweet.”

He gestured to the napkin and took a seat beside you on the chair. When you leaned in, he gave you a quick peck despite clearly trying to communicate something, then tapped the napkin again.

“I’ve read it,” you said.

He brushed a finger gently across your lower lip.

You sighed softly. “You want me to read it out? I don’t know if I can compliment myself for you, darling. I’d sound awfully arrogant.”

Franky lifted his sunglasses to look down at the napkin and nodded. “You would sound absolutely ridiculous saying that to yourself.”

“Maybe I can say it to Robin or Nami?” you offered.

Sanji pressed a hand dramatically to his heart as though you’d threatened to stab him through the chest. It was meant for you then.

You laughed. “Then, I’m sorry, love, but if you want to hear me say it aloud, you’re going to have to wait until you get your voice back, okay?”

Zoro scoffed, a sound that surprised you because you’d thought he was asleep this whole time.

“With any luck, that’ll be never.”

Sanji glared at him and then gestured for you to speak. You paused, considering what you could say that sounded appropriate before shrugging and sending a rude gesture in Zoro’s direction, which only made him frown.

Sanji’s expression said everything.

“I know you could have done that,” you said. “But I thought it got my point across. Oh, and Zoro?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck you.” You nodded to Sanji. “There, now I said it and showed it.”

Zoro blinked at you and then shrugged and took a swig from his bottle. “Fine,” he said. “Your voice is less grating at least.”

“I get right to the heart of the insult,” you said. “The point stands and no need for yelling.”

Sanji breathed out heavily and shook his head at you but the smile still lingered on his face so you took that to mean you weren’t entirely failing in your duties.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I love you too.”

He nodded his approval and moved to get up when you caught his wrist. He stayed as you laced your fingers with his, an idea creeping into your mind.

“I think you should maybe take the rest of the day off to recover,” you suggested. “I can take over cooking today.”

He looked very offended at the suggestion, gesturing to his throat with his free hand as though asking what his lack of a voice had to do with cooking. The answer was honestly very little but it was fun that he couldn’t protest verbally.

“No, I understand,” you said. “You’re very tired. Maybe you can stay out here and I’ll go start preparing something right now.”

“Are we having more breakfast?” Luffy asked, his head turning away from his game with Usopp.

“No,” you answered sweetly. “But I’m going to cook lunch.”

Sanji’s expression was becoming more distressed by the second although pride briefly fluttered through when Luffy frowned.

“But I prefer Sanji’s cooking.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, that’s just mean. Sanji’s letting me cook because he loves me.”

Sanji smiled and lowered his head, kissing the back of your hand in a way that was clearly meant to soothe your captain’s insult. His expression promised a thousand reassuring praises about how he enjoyed it when you cooked.

“As long as you appreciate me,” you said. “I think I’ll be alright.”

He nodded and gestured for you to say something, tapping the napkin and its sweet flattery again.

“I’m not complimenting myself verbally,” you insisted. “It’ll sound so embarrassing. Even if technically, it comes from you.”

“Give it here, I’ll read the thing,” Franky said. “Though as a warning, I’m going to have to edit it a little if it’s too mushy.”

Sanji shook his head and reached for the napkin and you purposefully leaned back in your seat, shuffling a little away to grab it and hold it out toward the clearly not-listening swordsman.

“You know who reads things very well?” you asked. “Zoro! Would you mind?”

Sanji lunged for the napkin with such immediate horror that his chair scraped against the deck. He caught your wrist before you could surrender it to Zoro, shaking his head with the frantic severity of a man preventing an international disaster.

Nami laughed openly while Robin lowered her book just enough to reveal the smile she was making no effort to hide as Sanji tried his hardest to ask you to stop tormenting him without being able to offer even one pleasantry to his request.

Zoro looked over. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I’m just using you to tease Sanji. He’s cute when he’s flustered.”

Zoro clicked his tongue, nose wrinkling in annoyance. “Then don’t.”

Sanji’s cheeks turned faintly pink at the compliment and mild frustration. He so badly wanted to counter you with praise of his own. You could practically see the flattery where it was stuck in his throat, desperate to escape. You even had an exact idea of what line he wanted to say to try and turn his embarrassment into lavish compliments.

You smiled and looked toward the other two women who were both still amused.

“I think Sanji’s meaning to tell you both that your laughs are more precious than any song,” you said sweetly.

Sanji sighed.

“I think we should make this a permanent thing,” Nami said. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

“I’ll run out of compliments to give eventually,” you warned her. “Then I’m just going to be telling you that you look nice fifty times a day.”

She shrugged. “That’s already what I hear whenever Sanji speaks so it isn’t too different.”

You snickered and Sanji huffed once, offended but still willing to forgive her for it on instinct alone. Of course.

“Don’t worry, I enjoy your poetry,” you promised, squeezing the hand that you were still holding. “But I’m no good at coming up with my own.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded to the napkin.

“Still not reading it aloud.”

He breathed out dramatically.

You didn’t end up getting to cook which, honestly, was a tragedy. Thanks to your announcement of your intentions, Sanji was already waiting for the moment you tried to sneak your way into the kitchen and he’d brought a chair in so you could sit without interfering.

Every time he caught you and gently led you away, you waited for the kiss and the whispered flattery and though you got the former… the latter stayed annoyingly out of your reach.

You found yourself becoming strangely nostalgic as the day drew on without any sweetened compliments or lovely names flitting your way. You were almost tempted to give in and put words behind his gestures though your pride still caught you before it happened. Worse, you knew even if you tried you would never say the words the same way he did.

You couldn’t imitate his gentle cadence and really, the words were meaningless without that.

You sat behind him in the kitchen with the sizzling pans and the steady stirring against a bowl and yet still found it eerily quiet. Quiet in a way you truly hated.

“Do you know what I don’t like?” you asked, mainly for something to break the quiet. “I can’t see what you’re doing from over here. So, I feel left out.”

Sanji’s shoulders raised in the same way they always did when he laughed though the sound didn’t follow. He moved the pan from the stove so you could see it, pointing with the spoon as he would normally do.

But without the explanation, it wasn’t nearly as fun.

“I’ve never realised how much you talk,” you said.

He gave you an unimpressed expression in response and you laughed, hurrying to clarify.

“No, no, I’m not complaining about it,” you assured. “I was missing it. I like hearing you speak.”

He stared at you fondly for a second too long before he smiled and went back to what he had been doing. The temptation to go and nag Chopper about how much longer this would take was only growing worse with the passing seconds.

You stood from your chair and ventured closer, staying out of his way the best you could, to watch him. He glanced at you and smiled, holding out his hand for a jar of spice at your elbow.

You handed it over, brushing your fingers against his own purposefully.

He smiled and nodded but without the flattering gratitude, you sighed. He squeezed your wrist tightly and though you knew what he was meaning, it didn’t make you feel better.

“No need to look so happy about it,” you said with a slight pout. “You’d miss hearing my voice too if I suddenly couldn’t talk.”

He nodded fervently in agreement and gestured in a way you took to mean something along the lines of losing your voice being a great tragedy inflicted on the world. It was nice. But it wasn’t quite right and your mouth still twisted in annoyance at it.

You continued to translate on occasion through the day but it wasn’t really needed. Everybody knew Sanji well enough that your help was very unimpactful.

And your mood sank more as he placed a plate in front of you, entirely different from everybody else’s.

One of your favourites. Clearly meant to be an apology for your disappointment.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” you mumbled as you gave him an appreciative kiss. “But thank you.”

Luffy glanced toward your plate curiously and you waited until Sanji had stepped back into the kitchen to give him half of it. You didn’t have much of an appetite when you felt like this but luckily, you dined with a bottomless vacuum cleaner and never had to worry about anybody seeing when you hadn’t finished your meal.

Which, unsurprisingly, meant you woke at an ungodly hour of the morning with your stomach growling at you. You made your way into the kitchen with a yawn against the back of your hand.

Like this, you could appreciate the silence a little more.

It was supposed to be quiet when you were busy by yourself, borrowing one of the knives you’d been told a thousand times you could use, and making yourself something small enough to tide you over until breakfast. This quiet was comfortable.

Yet it still annoyed you purely because of how it had been earlier when it crept into spaces that should have been filled with flirting.

The doors swung open and you jumped for a second before you recognised Sanji’s silhouette and you smiled.

“Hello,” you greeted. “Do you have a sixth sense for when somebody walks into the kitchen?”

He smiled and yawned, but then he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice rough with disuse but audible. “I’m sorry, mon amour, I thought it was Luffy.”

“Oh?” you hummed, unable to stop the smile that spread over your face at the familiar sound of his voice. You turned around, abandoning your food to slip closer. “That’s a sound I’ve missed something terrible. Are you feeling better?”

“Much. I woke up and could speak again. I never thought it would be so difficult although you certainly tormented me for it, cherie.”

You laughed softly. “Aw, I did nothing. All that I’m guilty of is sharing your usual love with the others. And they were smiling more than usual so that’s a win.”

He huffed. “True but not being able to share the same love with you was torture. Far worse than if you’d abandoned speaking for me all together. I could spend every hour of the day praising you and still leave half your virtues unsaid.”

“I still knew what you were trying to say.”

“That’s not the same as hearing it,” he insisted.

You rested your arms over his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him softly. He smiled gently against your mouth, hands coming naturally to rest against your sides. No matter how many times you kissed him though, his cheeks always flushed slightly at the end.

“Were you hungry?” he asked when you moved away.

“Just a little,” you admitted. “But I didn’t want to wake you up for a midnight snack.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you could always wake me.”

“If I knew you’d have your voice back, I would have,” you said. “It’s such a lovely sound. Although I’m also grateful I don’t have to keep thinking of compliments. You’re more creative than I give you credit for. I ran out of orange things to compare to Nami’s hair after the first hour.”

He sighed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was authentic,” you insisted.

“No, it wasn’t because you wouldn’t say a word to yourself. Nami-san and Robin-chan are radiant, amour, but you’re the one who holds my heart. You’d need to acknowledge that first.”

You hummed teasingly. “Really? Because I thought I heard some very pretty words for them when I was reading your mind earlier.”

He shook his head but his smile remained humoured. “You came up with those ideas yourself.”

“Did I?”

Sanji chuckled and stepped back, catching your hand before it slid fully from his shoulder and lowering his head to kiss the back of it. “You must have. My love is for you and only you mademoiselle.”

His thumb moved slowly over your knuckles, and for once, neither of you rushed to turn the moment into a joke.

You smiled warmly at him. “That one sounds like it’s been waiting a few hours to be said.”

Something excited sparkled in his eyes at your words. “It definitely has and don’t worry, I’ve written down every single word I wanted to say to you yesterday. I fully intend to make sure you hear them at least twice to make up for the delay.”

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