Whether or not they meant to hurt you by saying it, they did. By the time they caught on, you were already changing to someone out of reach.
CHARACTERS: Sanji, ASL brothers, Shanks
TAGS: Angst & Comfort, some established relationship, accidental injury, WCI spoilers, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.
SONG: capable of love - pinkpantheress
SANJI isn’t cruel because he stopped loving you, he’s cruel because he’s trying to. He truly believes pushing you away is the only way to protect you.
Even the day you needed his reassurance most.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He bit out, stepping his way into the carriage that took him to the humiliation of a marriage he didn’t even want.
“I was never going to choose you.”
Sanji is the man who worships the ground you walk on. The one who lights up just because you’re in the room. So why was he being like this?
The line between black and white became such a blur in your teary eyes. You’d straightened your back, fixed on anything but his face. “Understood.”
That’s the moment he’d realize he went too far, even if it was to keep you away. Because in the world he gets out of this alive, how could it possibly go back the way it was.
You fought just as hard as everyone else bringing him back, but you acknowledged him differently. No more soft glances across the table. No more eyes lingering when he smiles. No more quiet conversations you had with him in the kitchen.
Sanji can survive rejection.
He cannot survive being treated like he’s nothing special to you, he was barely clinging on from just a week of your silence.
You’re alone in the kitchen, cutting fruit. Not because you need to. Just because you don’t want to sit out there with everyone else, it was too cold, a bit too warm as well.
The knife presses into the peel of the orange, juice on your fingers.
“..You’re going to cut yourself holding it like that,” he says softly, a hand gripping the edge of the counter near you, but never too close. "I’ll cut the rest, ma chérie."
“I’m fine.” You said, numb.
The knife slips, just like he said.
You hiss under your breath as the blade grazes your finger, blood trickling down your wrist. His hand wraps around your wrist instinctively, stopping the bleeding with a cloth he had.
“I told you,” he breathes, but his voice cracks around the word. “Your hands are too precious.”
You try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you.
"I'm fine." You tried again, but it was even less convincing than the first.
His heartbeat is fast, it’s the longest interaction you guys had. “Look at me.” he whispers into your ear, you felt your whole body shiver. “You can’t keep ignoring me like this.”
“Yes I can.” And you could, but you sadly weren’t so simple.
You try not to look, but it’s hard not to look straight when he’s the one holding you. When you looked up finally, you notice how his composure was gone, no elegance left. Your hand trembles against him.
“I thought if you hated me, you’d stay away. You’d be safe.” His thumb presses lightly over your knuckles. He already explained this before, the first day even.
“But that also meant you stopped loving me,” he continues, voice rough. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. “And I don’t know how to breathe when you do that.”
Tears formed in his eyes before yours, you could hear it in the way he breathed.
“I need you to look at me again,” he whimpers, a choke at the end. “Even if you’re angry. Even if you hit me. Just don’t treat me like I’m nothing.”
His grip softens, but he doesn’t let go.
“I love you,” he says, steady now.
A shaky breath was let out, but this time it from you. “I hate you so much.” You breathed, but despite your words your head sinked into his shoulder. “You can be so cruel.”
In other words, I love you too, but I’m still mad.
He brought a hand to your back, hesitating before it settled there permanently.
The room had settled into an uneasy quiet.
Sabo had work stacked higher than usual, little casualties have been popping up and it’s been taking a toll on the moral of everyone.
You were there anyway, for him.
Your head laid against his desk, watching him with that soft patience he never seemed to earn but always received. When his ink slipped and a word smeared across the page, you let out a quiet laugh, already half stood to fetch him a fresh sheet.
“Don’t you have something to do?” He asked, it felt a lot more sharper than anything. He was tired, frayed at the edges. “Instead of hovering around me.”
You blinked once, like you hadn’t quite processed it. Then you pushed yourself up slowly from the chair, the echo of it filling the silence. “I.. yeah.” A pause. Breath catching slightly. “I’ll see you around, Sabo.”
At first, he told himself it was better this way, less pressure on both of you.
If anything, he thought it was a good change at first. You began matching him more, the work, the missions, the way you bit your pen when you thought.
You guys began living the same life style, but not in the same life.
When you passed him in corridors, your eyes didn’t linger anymore. No small smile. No teasing remark under your breath.
He started noticing things he hadn’t before.
How often you had been the one pulling him out of his own spiral. How often you had made the room feel less like an office and more like somewhere people could still breathe.
And now you weren’t doing that anymore.
He didn’t look at the chair at first. Because that chair was yours, literally. You brought it in a random day and it never left.
When he finally did, it stood out more than it should have, pulled close to his desk, slightly angled, like it had been part of the room’s routine. Like you had been still here with him.
Not once did he touch it, hoping one day you’d just be there.
And still, he didn’t say it to your face.
Koala didn’t bring it up gently, that wasn’t in her nature. She banged the desk, grabbing his attention fast.
“Sabo, the girl used to live in your presence.” she scolding pulling his cheek, hard. He whined a bit. “She could barely even joke with you without worrying you’d push her away again!”
His fingers tightened slightly against the paper in his hands, the worst part was this was something he didn’t even think about.
Koala exhaled, softer now but no less firm. “Can’t you see how much she’s doing for you?”
His gaze drifted from her, back to the chair.
It took him longer than it should’ve to find you. Not because you were avoiding him, you weren’t. You were exactly where you always were, but still completely different.
When he stepped into the room, you didn’t look up. Not even once.
He brought a chair with him, it scraped across the floor like any wood on wood interaction. You paused for half a second, then kept writing. He brought it closer anyway and sat right beside you.
Then he leaned forward until he could rest his head on his arm against the edge of your desk. That made your pen stop, but you still didn’t look at him. He exhaled through his nose, something almost bitter at himself.
“I keep thinking about that day,” he admitted, eyes fixated on something near your hand. “Your presence was never the problem, I should’ve never made you think it was. If anything, I was.”
Silence stretched again, but he knew you were listening at least. He shifted his body, slower this time, and rested his head fully on your desk. “I don’t want this version of us to be the only one that exists,” he said quietly.
Then, after a breath that sounded rough, “I don't want this to be it.”
Finally, you did look at him, head tilted slightly to his side. Your eyes were much duller now, they looked tired, much more tired than him. He noticed your chapped lips, messy hair, bruised finger. All of his faults.
You saw apologies you never thought could be said through just an expression.
Carefully, he reached up and let his fingers slip into your hair, smoothing the ends. Holding on to you in anyway he can, and you leaned into it, not completely.
Because you were still here.
And this time, he wasn’t going to act like that didn’t matter.
You popped up behind Ace with a bright yelp, grabbing both his shoulders hard enough to jolt him forward. He gasped, nearly dropped what he was holding before realizing it was you. “You trying to kill me?”
“Not yet.” You stepped back dramatically, hands on your hips while you turned side to side. “For now, answer me. How do I look?” You asked, looking up with a mischievous grin.
You’d actually tried to impress him. Fixed your hair. Change your outfit. Put effort into it. The kind of effort that makes your stomach twist because you care who’s looking. You cared if he was looking.
Ace blinked, looked once, then again. “It’s.. different.”
Different.. what does that mean?
You waited, but nothing followed.
“..Thanks.” You smiled anyway, a tight one that fought to frown. He nodded like he’d done his job, walking away with a silent goodbye.
It was fine, didn’t matter.
You told yourself you can move on, but all you remember that night was scrubbing your face, throwing the clothes, and never considered doing it again for your own sake. Why? Because you cared too much.
The next day, you wore something that didn’t risk that embarrassing pause. It was dull, something you found in the back of the laundry. You didn’t even like how it looked.
And when the days followed, you began expressing that same color.
Ace didn’t even think anything about it, he didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable. He thought you were, he really did.
Izou started off softly, a genuine worry masked as an innocent question. “What happened to her cute outfits?” He asked, leaning against the wall. “I wanted to learn a thing or two.”
Ace stiffened, then thought about it. Really thought about it, or specifically that day. He remembered the way you’d looked at him, hopeful. Expecting something more than a passing comment.
Not because you looked bad, because you looked good. It was different in a way that made his brain short circuit and his mouth betray him.
But it was the fact he didn’t correct himself instantly is what brought him here.
He realizes that change you made wasn’t for comfortability, but because Ace was dumb enough to not notice.
Ace found you later, leaning against the railing, a hint of déjà vu from when you met him here days ago. It took you a second to register him, and even then you were pretty dismissive.
He stood there awkwardly. “That thing you wore the other day.”
You froze but kept your voice low, avoiding that hopefulness in your throat. “Yeah?”
You stared at him, the wind pushing a strands of your hair across your face the longer he waited, he wasn’t even close to grasping how small he might look like right.
"You.." He looked away from you, tapping on the railing with this restless motion. “You looked good.”
That was his honesty, that was his a dirty secret. God he was pathetic.
“I’m not good at pretty words,” he admitted. “But I don’t ever want you thinking I don’t like the way you are. Or the way you try. I..” He swallowed. “I really liked it.”
Your smile came easier this time, still small, a little bit hesitant. “Why’d it take so long to say it?”
He gave you a look, accepting every step he was allowed. “I know.” He kicked lightly at the deck, looking at you softly. "My favorite was two weeks ago, definitely that one. I noticed my name on your nails—.”
You used to talk with your whole body. You’d lean into him without thinking, knee knocking his, like you guys were kids again. “But he still lives,” you said chuckling, smiling down at the page. “He’s a pretty tragic character, I didn’t expect it to get so dark.”
You looked up and Luffy wasn’t looking at you.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That’s cool.” The wind filled the silence. You waited for the follow up he’d ask. The confused question. Anything. He sighed, “Ya’ done yet?”
You smiled like your feelings weren’t hurt.
“Yeah, there wasn’t much.” you said, the book closing with a soft thud. He didn’t notice how small you sounded. “I’ll see you later, Luffy.”
That was the last time you went to him with a chapter still warm in your hands.
And he didn’t worry about it.
Luffy didn’t notice absences the way other people did, mainly because you guys were apart of the same crew, so that distance wasn’t much. But, he’d look to his side sometimes, expecting your elbow in his ribs.
He didn’t know why that bothered him, not yet.
The ship stopped at a new island for a restock. Luffy walked down the stands, a certain group catching his eye. It was a book promotion, about the one you wouldn’t shut up about.
He tried to remember the last time you wouldn’t shut up about anything.
The last time you’d tugged on his sleeve. The last time you’d sat next to him with that look in your eyes like you were about to explode with something you couldn’t keep in.
Robin watched his expression shift. Watched the confusion settle, then the sadness. “Luffy,” she said carefully, “when’s the last time she talked to you about a book?”
That caught him off guard.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Luffy tried again. “She.. she hasn’t lately.” He stated quietly, and that felt weird to say. You guys talked daily still, that wouldn't change. But it wasn't the same.
Robin tilted her head. “Hasn’t? Or stopped?”
The noise of the market suddenly felt far away.
He replayed it, you on the deck, smiling down at the page. He remembered saying it, but he didn’t remember what your face looked like after.
And that was all it took for him to run back to the ship.
He reached the library, breathless by the time he opened the door. You stared at him in disbelief, watching as he stubbornly sat right next to you with his hands in his lap. You pulled the book in your hand closer.
“Something wrong?” You mumbled, each inch you leaned back was an extra two inches he leaned in.
“Tell me about the book.”
“I want you to ramble to me again.” He whined, a frustrated hand trembling in his lap.
“You were the one who looked bored.” You stated bluntly, ending with a sigh. "You don't have to listen—“
“But I’m not!” He retorted instantly, a slight crack in his voice. “I miss it when you came to me. I know, I struggle to look interested.. and sometimes I get distracted.” He began the useless rambling. “But! But.. I really like when you get excited.”
You both stared at each other for seconds too long. He wasn’t done talking, but he wanted to know if you were still waiting for him. Your gaze softened, feeling a light tremble in your lips.
“I don’t know why.” He frowned, answering the question your face expressed. “But still, I remember things. Like how you like uh.. uhm laya’s..”
Your favorite, he knew him despite his selective memory.
“You’re not the only woman in the world.” Shanks gave a low chuckle into his drink like it was nothing worth holding onto.
His shoulder brushed yours on purpose, fingers lazily grazing your hand as if he already expected you not to pull away.
“A man like me can’t be tied down.”
Translating to, he doesn't want anything serious.
The words should’ve been light, it was a joke after all. But every joke had an underlining truth, like when he said it to you. You stared at him for a second too long, jaw locking as you forced out a scoff. “I’m not trying to tie you down.”
You pushed back from the table. The chair scraped. “I’m going to the ship.”
He didn’t say anything, eyes lashes fluttering as he watch you slowly leave through the door.
After that, nothing changed for him for the following month. It looked like that at least.
You stopped letting him touch you, everytime he nuzzled your face, wrap his hands around your waist, you would brush him off. He would flirt with you at times, and you stared at him in silence until it got too awkward- and so on.
All the dumb shit you used to put up with all because you liked him.
Shanks brushed a finger against the table, a long strained groan leaving his lips. He misses you, but in a weird way where you were there, but just not his to take. He didn’t notice what changed, not yet.
He laughed at that thought, not even realizing no other woman besides you has been in his mind for as long as this, as desperately as this.
He jumped out of thought, slowly turning around to face Beckman. “..yes?”
“Quite frankly we don’t care about your woman life. It’s not our business.” He was honest, brutally honest, and somehow the emperor knew what was coming already. “But don’t be surprised when you treat the girl like a one night stand and she doesn’t put up with you.”
Shank’s blinked, mouth slightly parting with nothing coming out.
“I wouldn’t—” But he did, that’s exactly what it sounded like that night. He swallowed whatever spot was in his mouth. “She doesn’t want me.”
“She did want you, Shank’s.” He huffed, light frustration in the tone of his voice, translating it from a womanizer to a yearner. “So do something about it, yeah?”
You were sitting on a crate, head tipped back toward the sky, pretending you weren’t waiting for anything. He stopped behind you, far from silently.
You finally looked up, meeting a sullen look in his eyes, it looked like regret. “Captain?”
“I haven’t had a one night stand in weeks.” He whispered, like he was trying to joke and failed halfway through.
You only chuckled, the one people force. “A fuck isn’t happening,” you said sharply, standing up. “Nice try, though.”
“What? No.” He stepped forward too fast. “That’s not what I meant.”
You blinked, a part of you shaken from his rare honesty. Or rather you were afraid of it. “Then what was it?”
Your hands tightened at your sides, you knew exactly where this was coming from, and you weren’t ready for it.
“I miss when you looked at me, not like others.” He exhaled, annoyed with himself. “I like when it’s just us, I don’t care what you call it, or what it was. I just..”
He stopped, but he was already too far in.
“I want you close,” he said instead, simpler. “Not like everyone else.”
But nothing was matching up with what he’s said already.
“I thought I couldn’t tie you down.” You breathed, a hitch in your throat.
How gazed softened, finding somewhere to leave his hands that wasn’t on you, he landed on his belt. It wouldn't be necessary though. “I was wrong—“
Your hand lifted before you could think, pressing against his mouth to stop him from saying something else that would undo you.
Shank’s eyes deepened, unexpectedly, he caught your wrist.
He held it there, slowly kissing your palm with a softness you didn’t know he had in himself. It was something he’d been trying not to do for a long time.
“I’ll make it right,” he said against your hand, voice low.
You didn’t forgive him, but you didn’t walk away either. And he made sure you’d never regret that decision of letting him closer again.
A/N: I hope everyone saw that dungeon meshi sneak and started cheering like how I did. Thank u for readinggg this was actually really fun to write
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