Sylo

The port was a chaotic symphony of gulls, shouting merchants, and the heavy thud of cargo hitting the docks. As a member of the Kuja pirates, you moved through the crowd with a natural, predatory grace. Your sisters were scattered nearby, their expressions curled in the usual masks of cold indifference or outright disgust toward the local men.

"Keep your eyes forward," your squad leader hissed, hoisting a barrel onto her shoulder. "Don't let these scavengers think we’re soft."

"Understood," you murmured, lifting a heavy wooden crate filled with medicinal herbs. You felt strong, disciplined and entirely untouchable.

Until you saw him.

Through a gap in the moving crowd, a splash of deep crimson caught your eye. Standing by a stack of lumber was a man, but not like the others. Sun-kissed, scar over his eye, infuriatingly handsome. He wore a strawhat, an unbuttoned white shirt and a tattered black cloak that caught the sea breeze. He was laughing, his head thrown back, one hand resting on the hilt of a sword while he joked with a large man eating a piece of meat on a bone.

It wasn't just his appearance, it was the warmth radiating from him. His smile felt like the sun breaking through a storm. For the first time in your life, the "disgust" you were trained to feel was replaced by a strange, soaring lightness in your lungs.

Then, the world slowed down.

The man turned his head. His gaze swept over the crowd and landed squarely on you. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he offered a casual, friendly grin, a silent acknowledgment from one pirate to another. And just like that, something inside your chest fluttered wildly, like a hummingbird had gotten trapped behind your ribs.

Then a loud thud.

The heavy crate slipped from your numb fingers, hitting the cobblestones with a bone-jarring crack. A high-pitched, strangled "Eep!" escaped your throat, a sound so uncharacteristic of a Kuja warrior that a few nearby civilians turned to stare.

Heat exploded across your face, turning your skin a shade of red that rivaled the stranger's hair. In a blind panic, you didn't pick the crate up. Instead, you dropped to your knees and scrambled behind the spilled wood and herbs, tucking your head down.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs like a drum. "What was that?" you thought wildly, clutching your burning cheeks. "What is wrong with my legs? Why can't I breathe?"

From the other side of the crates, you heard a deep, melodic chuckle and the steady thump-thump of boots approaching.

"Hey there," a smooth, cheerful voice called out. "That was quite a spill. You okay, or did the crate win that round?"

You peeked out from behind the splintered wood, just enough for one eye to crest the top of the crate. There he was. Up close, he was even more overwhelming and handsome, the scent of salt air and expensive sake clung to him and his presence felt like a physical heat.

"There you are," he said, his voice dropping into a warm, amused hum. He didn't look offended by your hiding, if anything, he looked genuinely concerned or maybe amused you weren't quite sure.

"I-I... u-uh..." You tried to pull your warrior’s mask back on, but it had melted away. Your tongue felt like a heavy piece of lead in your mouth. "Crate... the floor... it just... it jumped."

He let out a short, bark-like laugh, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Jumped, huh? Sounds like a dangerous piece of cargo." He reached up adjusting the strawhat to get a better look at you. "I'm Shanks. Captain of those rowdy types over there. And you’re one of the famous Kuja, aren't you? I’d recognize those serpent earrings anywhere."

Every time he smiled, it felt like a tiny shockwave hit your heart. You were supposed to be a hunter, a protector of Amazon Lily, but right now you felt like a leaf in a gale because no one had ever prepared you for a smile like this.

"I'm [Y/N]," you finally managed to squeak out, though it came out an octave higher than usual.

"Well, [Y/N]," he said, moving with a casual, effortless grace as he knelt down on the dusty cobblestones. "Let’s get this sorted before your Captain comes looking for you. I’d hate for you to get in trouble on my account."

He began picking up the spilled medicinal herbs and jars, his large, scarred hands moving with surprising gentleness. As he handed you a bundle of dried roots, his fingers brushed against yours.

The contact sent a jolt through your entire body. Heat flared instinctively for a split second before fizzling out into a puddle of nerves. Your face was so hot you were certain steam was actually rising from your skin.

"You're shaking," Shanks noted softly, pausing as he looked at you. His expression softened, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Are you ill? The sun is pretty brutal today."

Ill. That was the word. You weren't just ill, you were catching the one disease the Kuja feared more than death. And as you looked into his kind, curious eyes, you realized you didn't want the cure.

"...fine...I'm fine" you managed to stammer, though your voice lacked any of its usual steel.

The lie felt paper-thin, even to your own ears. You were a warrior of the sea, a woman who could take down a Sea King with a single arrow, yet here you were, undone by a man with a crooked grin and a strawhat.

Your eyes, betrayed by your racing heart, began to wander. You noticed the rough texture of his hand as he placed the last of the herbs back into the crate. You traced the three distinct scars over his left eye, wondering what kind of beast or blade could have left its mark on a man who felt so untouchable.

But despite the scars, your eyes always snapped back to his mouth. That smile. It was infectious, bright and utterly devastating. It made the world around you, the shouting merchants, the smell of fish, the calls of your sisters, fade into a dull hum.

Shanks stood up, effortlessly lifting the now-repacked crate as if it weighed nothing at all. He held it out to you, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"If you say so," he said, his voice laced with a playful skepticism. "But you're a bit lopsided, [Y/N]. If you keep staring at me like I've got two heads, you’re going to trip over that crate again."

He chuckled, a deep sound that seemed to vibrate right through your chest, landing exactly where your heart was currently trying to beat it's way out of your ribs.

"There," he said, settling the weight of the crate back into your arms. His hand lingered on the wood for a second too long, his thumb brushing your wrist. "Try to keep your grip this time. It’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face behind a pile of lumber again."

He gave you a final, wink before turning to walk back toward his crew. "See ya around, Kuja girl!"

You stood there, frozen, clutching the crate to your chest like a lifeline. Your legs felt like they had been replaced by jelly and a strange, hollow ache began to bloom right behind your sternum. You watched his retreating back, the way his red hair caught the sun and you realized with a surge of genuine terror that the world felt colder the further away he walked.

"Hey! What are you doing?" a sharp voice suddenly barked.

You jumped, nearly dropping the crate a second time as your squad leader marched over, her brow furrowed in suspicion. "Why is your face that color? And why were you speaking to that man? You look like you're about to faint."

"I... the sun," you whispered, the lie tasting like ash. "The sun is just... very bright today and he.....I told him to get lost."

She looked at you a moment longer but bought the lie. "Well next time bring a hat or something" she said before she turned to walk onto the ship.

You let out a deep sigh before you followed her and after putting the herbs away got to your cabin instead of the galley to eat something.

The door to your cabin clicked shut, muffling the rhythmic sounds of the Kuja ship, the snapping of sails and the distant calls of your sisters. Usually, the scent of the sea and the hardwood of the ship brought you comfort, but now, the room felt stiflingly quiet.

You slumped against the door, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor, the crate of herbs forgotten in the corner.

"Pretty..." you breathed out, the word feeling like a secret on your tongue. "He called me... pretty."

You let out a long, shaky sigh that seemed to drain the last of the strength from your limbs. Normally, if a man had dared to comment on your appearance, you would have laid him flat or pierced him with an arrow. But with Shanks, the word hadn't felt like an insult, it felt like so ething sweeter, genuine.

You squeezed your eyes shut and his image was immediately burned into the back of your eyelids. Not the powerful pirate captain, but the man who had knelt in the dirt just to help you.

"Such a warm smile," you whispered, a dizzying swoon washing over you.

Your chest felt tight, not the tightness of a corset or armor, but a strange, heavy ache that made it hard to draw a full breath. You knew you should be at the galley. The Kuja warriors ate heartily to keep their strength and today's haul of sea-king meat was supposed to be excellent. But the very thought of food made your stomach flutter uncomfortably.

You weren't hungry for meat. You weren't thirsty for water.

You reached up, touching your own cheek, which was still radiating heat. You could still feel the phantom sensation of his thumb brushing your wrist. Every time you replayed the moment he winked at you, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through your heart—a pain that was somehow... delicious?

"What is happening to me?" you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

You were a warrior. You were cold as steel and sharpened liked a knife. Yet, here you were, hiding in your cabin because a red-haired man had been kind to you, had disarmed you with a smile.

No one knew that this encounter would become a turning point in your life.

A few weeks later you still couldn't get him out of your head, still seeing his smile whenever you closed your eyes and feeling the warmth of his tumb brushing your wrist. You tried to focus on your training, on the pride of Amazon Lily, but your thoughts were like a compass caught in a magnetic storm, spinning wildly and always pointing back to the smiling red haired Captain.

You were no longer allowed near the training fields. Not since you accidentally daydreamed mid-sparring session and almost shot someone with your arrow because you were distracted by a cloud that seemed to look like Shanks' smile and then you were too busy imagining what it would be like to brush Shanks’ hair behind his ear.

You had just been in the garden, tending to the rare herbs used for salves and trying to distract yourself when the sound of a very familiar laugh made your spine go stiff.

You climbed a vine-covered wall to get a better look and there he was. Shanks. His coat billowed despite there being no wind, red hair shimmering in the sun, a laugh like thunder. He turned and looked up......only to smile right at you and just like that, something inside your chest fluttered even wilder now and you felt like you had been shot with an arrow. "You again" he called over.

And you, you slipped and fell down scraping your cheek slightly on the stone wall.

Damn him. Damn his charm. Damn the way your face was suddenly burning and your fingers trembled like you had touched poison and damn how your mind spiraled even more now that you saw him again.

You heard Shanks chuckle but before he could approach you one of your sisters got in the way demanding to know what they were doing here. "We just need to do some repairing on the ship we'll be gone within 3 days. We won't leave the shore just fix some things" he explained and then he smiled at the warrior sisters who were ready to skewer him and somehow it melted into negotiations. Smirks turned into shared drinks. Harsh stares turned into chuckles. And the red hair pirates were allowed to stay on the beach and repair their ship.

But their stay seemed to throw your world upside down once again, if you were clumsy before you were chaos now, your focus non existing, you couldn’t even hold a conversation without trailing off mid-sentence and smiling at nothing like a lovesick fool and you swooned and daydreamed about him constantly as you watched him from afar not daring to get closer to him......yet.

Shanks was just helping his men by fixing some things on their ship, completely unaware of the emotional devastation he had left in his wake.

Your sisters walked by and froze in place as they saw you lean over the wall, chin resting in your hand staring softly at him. "…She’s doing it again," one whispered. "She’s been like this all morning," said another.

The older Kuja warriors were losing their minds. "You’re insane" one snapped, shaking her spear. "Get up! You are a warrior of Amazon Lily, not some simpering man’s plaything!"

A few hours later you felt a tiny bit better but not much. You still didn’t eat and instead spent hours just lying in the grass, sighing dramatically into the wind, staring at the clouds like they were all shaped like his handsome face.

Your sisters were horrified and didn't know what to do anymore. "She won’t touch her food!" one of the guards complained, holding a tray of fresh-cooked bird meat. "She just… stared at it for fifteen minutes and whispered, ‘I wonder if he likes mangoes more than papayas…’"

You though didn't hear or realize any of their concerns, you were too busy watching Shanks move around his ship, talk and laugh with his men as they worked.

When you started burning up with a fever, the elder healers took one look at you and sighed.

“She’s love-sick,” one muttered.

You though denied it. Of course you did. You were a proud Kuja warrior! You had trained with sea serpents, hunted beasts in the jungle! You would not be felled by a man and his lopsided grin!

But you couldn’t stop dreaming of him. Couldn’t stop remembering the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the kindness in his voice, his warm and charming smile or how his scar made him look rugged in a way that made your knees weak.

You used to be composed, graceful, thoughtful and respected among your sisters for your calm demeanor and healing hands. You used to tend wounds without hesitation, stare down beasts twice your size and carry yourself with the quiet confidence of a true Kuja warrior.

And now?

Now you kicked your feet in the air like a teenager at the edge of the cliffside, hands squished against your cheeks, squealing under your breath because he said your name.

On the second evening, long after the fires burned low and most were asleep you sat close to the shore under the star-speckled sky by yourself, trying to will your heart into behaving.

"You alright there?" You froze as Shanks walked up to you. He lowered himself beside you, a flask in one hand, his scent warm and heady, salt, sea and something wild.

"I’m fine," you murmured not able to look at him.

"Hmm. You look flushed," he said, teasingly and leaned closer. "Don’t tell me you’ve caught a bit of... sickness?"

You wanted the ground to eat you whole but instead, you crossed your arms, biting your lip. "It’s a... tropical flu."

He laughed. That deep, devastating sound again.

"You Kuja women are something else," he said, looking up at the stars. "Strong as hell. Deadly. But you—"

He turned to you and those damn eyes were boring into you, tearing every wall you ever had down. "You’re... softer. Gentle. That’s rare in this world."

You finally dared to meet his gaze fully and you wished you hadn’t. His expression was open, warm and honest. He wasn’t teasing anymore.

"I noticed you from the start," he admitted. "Didn’t think that after last time I could get close to you again."

He looked at you and then smiled. That smile, that beautiful, radiant, hopelessly charming smile. The one that made the air in your lungs evaporate. The one that curved the corners of his mouth and made his scars look softer somehow. The one that made it feel like the jungle around you blurred, like the world itself leaned just a little closer to watch.

Your knees buckled, your heart thudded, love sickness reaching its final, critical stage.

"I HATE YOU!" you suddenly shouted despite knowing it wasn'ttrue but you panicked.

Shanks reeled back, wide-eyed at your sudden outburst. "What?! What’d I do?!"

"You made me feel things!" you shouted. "You—you SMILED and now I can’t sleep and I trip over my feet and I can’t train and I giggle when I see clouds or fruit that looks like you!"

"…You’ve seen fruit that looks like me?"

"THAT’S NOT THE POINT!" You turned away, flustered beyond repair. "I’m a warrior. I’m strong. And you—you ruined me with one damn smile!"

There was a beat of silence before Shanks chuckled, inching closer.

"Well… if it makes you feel any better," he said gently, "I’m starting to feel a little ruined too."

"You are?" You asked looking up at him slowly, eyes wide.

"Yeah," he grinned, tilting your chin up. "By a very sweet, flustered warrior who keeps hiding every time I say hi and try to get close." He continued laughing softly not knowing what was truly going on.

And then just like that he kissed you.

It was soft, careful. Like he knew you were melting on the spot and didn’t want to push too far.

And you... you leaned into it, damn the rules, damn the island, damn the fever that now burned only for him.

"Ah," you breathed faintly and then....thud. You collapsed on your back like you had been taken down by a sniper.

Shanks panicked and looked wide eyed at you crouching beside you asking what was going on until a few of your sisters arrived startled by the shouting.

"She’s been struck! The love sickness has claimed her!" One of the elder warriors declared, horrified.

And in the middle of the chaos, Shanks looked utterly baffled, having no clue what was going on right now.  

"What? What happened?!" he asked confused.

Two of your sisters surrounded you protectively. You were half-conscious, face flushed, mumbling something about his smile, his hair, his….everything. 

"It’s your fault! She has fallen for you and now she’s about to die!" One of your sisters shouted.

"Wait, what?!" Shanks blinked. "I just—smiled?"

"She’s in the throes of love sickness!" another woman snapped, as if it were the most obvious curse in the world. "She cannot eat, cannot sleep, she is overwhelmed by feelings for you! And if it continues— "

"She’ll die!" finished the healer gravely.

Shanks paled. "Wait, wait. I didn’t harm her I just......kissed her!"

"That's the worst you could have done," the healer growled. "She has already fallen for you," she continued more to herself.

Shanks opened his mouth to argue, but then his eyes dropped to you, lying on the ground like a withered lily, cheeks red, lips parted in a faint sigh of his name, hand on your forehead. 

His heart thudded once, deep in his chest. "Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t know anything about this sickness. But she’ll be alright again right?" Shanks asked, a little concerned. 

"We’ll have to see, for now we should get her to her room and give her some rest and maybe you should go back to your ship." one of your sisters said as you were carefully taken away by them. 

A few hours later you were in your room but not doing much better ypur thoughts still occupied by Shanks and his heart-melting smile.

You didn't hear the soft footsteps in the hallway, nor the shadow that stopped outside your door.

"Staring at the walls won't make the fever go away," a raspy, knowing voice sounded from the other side.

You jolted upright, your heart leaping into your throat. The door creaked open wider and Elder Nyon shuffled in, her snake-topped staff clicking rhythmically against the floorboards. She didn't look angry, she looked pitying, which was far worse.

"It’s a heavy burden, isn't it?" she asked, her small eyes fixed on your flushed face. "The weight of a man’s smile when it takes root in a heart that was taught to be made of stone."

You tried to stand, to find your dignity, but your knees wobbled. "It's just... the heat, the shock of his sudden closeness Elder Nyon. I'll be fine by morning."

"We both know you won't" she countered. "I know that look. I felt it once, long ago, when the Great Pirate Gol D. Roger stood on his deck. I felt my spirit begin to wilt like a flower in a drought. I nearly withered away to nothing because I tried to fight the truth."

Your eyes widened. You had heard legends of the Pirate King, but to imagine the stern Elder Nyon feeling this... this weakness?

"And I was not the only one," Nyon continued, her voice dropping to a nostalgic whisper. "Shakuyaku, she was a captain of the Kuja, the pride of our people. But when she met the Dark King, Rayleigh, the sickness claimed her too. She didn't stay to die of a broken heart. She chose the path of the exile. She left the Kuja, gave up her title and followed that man."

She turned back to you, her expression grave.

"This 'Love Sickness' is not a common cold, child. It is the body’s rebellion against the soul’s denial. To love a man is the ultimate taboo for our kind, yet our hearts do not care for laws. Shakky survived because she went to him. I survived because I left Amazon Lilly to join another crew and eventually let the feeling go, though I feel like a part of me died in the process."

The ache in your chest sharpened, a literal pang that made you gasp and clutch at your tunic.

"The Red-Haired man," Nyon said, narrowing her eyes. "He is of the same breed as Roger and Rayleigh. A man like that is a hurricane. You can either be swept up in his wake, or you can stay here and let the storm tear you apart from the inside."

You looked down at your trembling hands. "But... the Empress... my sisters... I am a Kuja!"

"You are a woman," Nyon corrected sternly. "And right now, you are a woman who is dying for a glimpse of red hair and a reckless laugh. Tell me, [Y/N], do you think you can survive a week without seeing his smile again after he sailed away, after tonight?"

The silence that followed was your answer. The mere thought of never seeing Shanks again felt like a death sentence more certain than any executioner’s blade.

"No" you admitted. "His smile is…..thinking of it makes my heart feel like exploding and the way he kissed me...." you confessed already swooning again before ypu turned to look at Nyon again.

"My child," she said solemnly.  "There is only one cure now."

You blinked slowly. "…Death?"

"No you idiot. Departure." She stepped closer, using her staff to tilt your chin up so you had to look her in the eye. "That is the nature of the sickness. It strips away your armor and leaves you raw. But listen to me, a man like Red-Haired Shanks doesn't help a woman pick up herbs and call her 'pretty', let alone kiss her if he intends to be cruel. He has a spirit as vast as the Grand Line but he is not heartless."

Your breath hitched. "You’re telling me to... to desert?"

"I am telling you to live happily," she countered. "Shakky chose her path and she us happy now. If you stay here, you will be a corpse in a week and your sisters will have to bury a girl whose only crime was wanting to be loved. Don't worry I'll talk to them in the meantime pack your things." She said before leaving you alone.

When you emerged later on with a small satchel around your shoulder some of the older women had agreed to let you go.

"You must leave Amazon Lily… and go with the man you have fallen in love with."

The moment those words were spoken, chaos erupted.

Until one of the elders stood, arms raised to silence the crowd. "Do you not see? She is already gone" the woman said. "She walks among us, but her soul follows that red-haired fool across the sea."

A heavy silence followed before you raised your hand slowly.

"Um… I kind of… agree with her." Gasps followed your words. "I mean," you mumbled, face bright red, "he smiles and I feel like… I don’t know. Like maybe I could be happy somewhere else, too. Even if I’m not home, even if I'm with a man."

After everything was settled you made your way to the Red Force though not everyone was happy that youwere leaving but you didn't care anymore.

"Shanks the Kuja are coming," Beckman called out to Shanks as they prepared everything to sail off.

Shanks raised a brow. "Are we getting banned from the island because I doomed the cute one?" he asked.

"Nope looks more like they’re giving you a gift" Lucky Roux chimed in smirking as he saw you standing there. 

"A what?" Shanks asked as he finally looked over the railing. 

You stood there at the gangplank, hands twisting nervously behind your back, a half-packed satchel slung over your shoulder. You were glowing and twitching and sweating all at once.

"So," you squeaked. "Apparently your kiss is going to kill me and the only way I won’t die is if I… go with you."

Shanks blinked then gave a slow, lopsided smile. "You saying you want to come with me?"

"I’m saying," you gulped, "if I stay here I’ll literally pass away because you’re too charming and now I need to be near you at all times to survive, I guess."

A long pause and then he walked down the gangplank towards you. 

"…Then I guess I better not let you out of my sight again." Shanks said as he stepped closer and leaned down until his forehead brushed against yours.

Your knees gave out. Again but he steadied you and carried you onto the ship. 

You sat at the railing of the Red Force, head resting on Shanks’ shoulder, watching the island fade into the distance.

"You know," he said, "I’ve never had a girl almost die just because she liked me."

You groaned, hiding your face in his arm. "Don’t talk about it. It’s humiliating."

He chuckled, reaching over to brush a loose stray behind your air. "Don’t worry, sweetheart."

"You’ll forget?" You asked eyes full of hope.

"No," he grinned. "I’ll remind you every day."

You groaned louder but secretly smiled because you were healing, you could already feel it.

As the days passed you no longer stared dreamily at Shanks for seven hours straight without blinking. You no longer stopped breathing every time he casually tousled your hair or called you sweetheart in that low, rumbling voice of his, nor did you feel like the breath was stolen from your lungs.

Progress.

You were eating and sleeping gain. The dizziness and chest-aching longing had quieted. The Amazon Lily elders were right, being near him really was the cure. The love sickness didn’t vanish, exactly. It just… settled. Warm and golden. Less like a wildfire and more like a hearth fire. Still hot, still burning but no longer threatening to kill you.

And now that you weren’t constantly overwhelmed by how handsome he was, you had space to realize how good and kind he was, too, though you had to admit that he was indeed ridiculously good looking.

And when you saw him one morning helping tie down the sails during a sudden storm, soaked to the skin, hair plastered to his face, still laughing as if he were born of salt and chaos your heart ached again but this time it wasn’t sickness. It was love. Simple, certain and very real.

That night, when you passed him on deck after dinner, he caught your hand. You blinked up at him, startled and he was quiet for a moment.

"You’re looking better."

You smiled, a little bashful. "I feel better."

His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "Good. I was starting to think I’d have to marry you just to keep you alive."

Your breath caught for a moment. "…Would that be so bad?" you whispered.

He looked at you, really looked at you and for once, his grin faltered just a second like the weight of what you had said hit him deep but it vanished just as fast again and his smile returned, gentler this time.

"No," he said, voice low. "No, it wouldn’t be bad at all."

You blushed and turned your head towards the sea to hide it. 

"Pretty view," Shanks teased

You were relieved for the change of the subject. "Very pretty."

He looked at you sidelong, eyes glinting. "I wasn’t talking about the sea."

Your heart flipped and our breath caught, making you look away again, cheeks heating even more. "Y-you’re terrible."

"Terrible?" He chuckled, moving closer, until his shoulder brushed yours. "I thought I was charming and handsome."

"You are," you whispered. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

He turned to fully face you then. The laughter in his expression softened into something steadier, heavier. That grin of his was still there but quieter now, like he was smiling just for you. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing on this ship.

He lifted his hand and gently cupped your cheek. Rough palm feeling warm against your skin and then his forehead rested against yours.

"You cured yourself of love sickness," he whispered. "But now I think I caught it."

You let out a helpless laugh. "That’s not how it works…"

He tilted his head just enough so his nose brushed yours. "Sure it is."

And before you could argue he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed nor was it greedy. It was slow, warm, almost reverent the kind of kiss that made your chest ache with how right it felt. His lips were soft, his hand steady against your cheek, holding you like you might slip away if he let go.

Your hands trembled, then rose instinctively to clutch his shirt, pulling him closer.

When he finally drew back, his grin was there again, softer this time, lingering at the corners of his mouth.

"Well," he murmured, "at least you didn't collapse this time" he teased and you nudged his arm making him chuckle. "I guess that means you’re truly mine now." He added wrapping his arms around your waist.

You smiled through your blush. "I think I always was." You said softly and he smiled and kissed you again.