#eustasscaptainkid

Sabo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Sabo was training alone, just some simple combat moves — shirtless and sweaty. Blonde hair sticking to his face as he moves across the field.

He was heaving at the end of it, wiping his chin, and just when his little break was over, he spots you from the corner of his eye.

Sabo instantly brightens up at the sight of you, grinning and hand going up to wave you over but before he knew it—you were already half way closer, and when he blinks—you’re plunging into his chest.

Arms slung over his shoulders, as you practically anchor him into an embrace.

He didn’t even have the chance to comprehend the gesture before he feels your lips on his neck.

Making him flinch, grabbing onto your shoulders and just stares at you dumbfounded.

“Woah now, what’s all this? You okay—”

You blink. Then you tiptoe up and kiss his cheek.

Sabo doesn’t move. He just shuts up as you grab his face, kiss the corner of his lip, chin, jaw, his brows and eyelids—everywhere and anywhere, you attack him with your kisses.

Lipstick marks all over his face.

And he just stares like an idiot when you finish.

Your face all shy and grinning, grabbing his hands into yours, bringing them to your chest.

“Sabo.”

“Y-yeah..?”

He just keeps staring, neck going red.

“Don’t you want to kiss me back?”

Sabo blinks. Lips parting. “I—”

What is going? Did someone take over your body? And why are you extra pretty today? Something isn’t right here, but that spare second of assessment, that delay in an answer makes you frown. Letting go of his hands, moving away.

“Too late. I’m out. Have fun training alone, buddy—”

He catches your wrist, and hauls you right back in.

Hands going on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him.

Your legs all intertwined, your chests pressed into one another as he makes you look at him.

He leans in, just enough to catch the warmth of his breath on your face, his forehead grazing yours. And your cheeks burn at the sight of him.

He’s grinning sly and mean—and when Sabo gets like that—you can’t help but go completely dumb in the head.

“Want me to kiss you? Yeah? If you want it so badly then tell me why you’re all clingy today.” His lips inches near yours, but they never land—and you feel how he squeezes you up into him by the ass.

You tiptoe in for the kiss but Sabo keeps moving away, not fully, but just enough to tease.

“Sabo—”

“Tell me.”

And you hitch your breath when you feel his crotch.

What a mean jerk.

You pout. “Cause’ I missed you, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

And he smiles, all boyish and teasing.

“I missed’ you too.” And he’ll show you that, by pressing his mouth onto yours, lips mushing into one another and you smile into it.

He has one hand on your back, the other in your hair. Tilting you deeper into kiss.

Congrats. You’re not leaving the training grounds any time soon.

Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon" 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Corazon was sizzling some veggies by the stove. Pink apron tied around his waist as he fixes today’s dinner for both of you.

And he hears the kitchen door creak open.

“Soon love, I’ll just sauté these and then dinner will be—”

You wrap your arms around his waist, lean your face against his spine.

And he halts.

Breath caught in his ribs as he watches the vegetables turn toast.

“Er…” Corazon looks over his shoulder, where he’ll find you rubbing your cheek against his back. Small and little compared to him.

“Is everythin’ okay? Did something happen—”

You press your face harder against him and he turns rigid. Back arching.

He turns the stove off.

Slowly, awkwardly, he goes to face you and you just leech right back onto him. Face buried into his abs, taking in the scent of him.

You look up, face all mushed into him and he turns bright pink at the sight of your face.

Damn. Okay. You’re pretty, too pretty.

It’s turning him stupid.

“Cora…” You mumble out, fisting his shirt.

“Y-yeah? What is it gorgeous?”

“Why aren’t you touching me?”

And he blinks. He didn’t even notice it but his hands are hovering above your hips.

Too flustered to know where to place them.

“Y-you want me too—?”

You frown. And he presses his lips, swallowing.

What a stupid question.

Of course you want him to touch you.

Corazon places his large hands on your hips, and you press yourself closer to him.

His thigh going inbetween yours and you hear him hold in a whine when you kiss chest, lean your cheek against his ribs.

“Is it okay if we eat later? I want to feel you just a bit longer.”

At that, his shoulders slumps.

Chuckling just a little, before easing into you.

“Yes. Anything you want, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Buggy the Clown 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

The so called Genius Jester is slumped over his sofa, circling his wine goblet as he grumbles, “Stupid-crocodile-smug-looking-bastard” (or something to that affect) and that’s how you’ll find him.

He doesn’t shift his head, just from your footsteps alone he knows it’s his gorgeous, majestic, piece of honeycakes walking in.

And he thinks you’re here to scold him too, his chin sinking.

“If you’re here to to call me dumb and lazy and annoying as well, then I—”

Your steps are fast, hard—plunging against the floor boards as you cast yourself over his shoulders. Face pressed into his spine and Buggy, freezes.

You snuggle your face in between his shoulder blades.

Rubbing. Pressing.

Taking in his scent… he smells like cake. And sprinkles. And just a little bit of canon fodder.

You want more of it, more of him.

And Buggy blinks. Twice. Before glancing to you.

“Er… did I…. uh… Is this a test?… Are you mad—”

“Buggy.” You hum, your voice hot against his spine, and just when he’s about to answer, do you kiss his back. Trailing kisses all over him and you feel a shiver running down his skin before you make it to the nape of his neck.

Your breath warm, turning him flushed. “I missed you Bug’, I missed you so much.”

He flinches. Breath caught.

Is this a seduction tactic? Or a trap? Whatever it is, it’s making him go stupidly red, face steaming even.

You lean in from behind, your lips skimming over his earlobe.

“Do you miss me, Buggy?”

“I…Uh…. I— yeah! I mean, of course I do!” He stammers out, shifting his head to you, his red nose grazing yours, meeting your smile. And he combusts.

Melting like an ice cone in desert heat.

“B-but where is this coming from, gem? You’re suddenly all over me—WHICH I LOVE—but erm… y’know.”

You only hum in response, manoeuvring into the sofa, and in between his legs. Nestling yourself right above his lap, face into his neck.

“I just want to be near you, just this once, please?”

His throat is flaring fire against your cheek, you even hear his heart drum from underneath.

And you resist not teasing him for it.

Instead you grab onto his chest, fisting his clothes and relax into his warmth.

And slowly, carefully, his hands makes it to your back, pressing you closer to him.

Placing his chin above your head.

“Sure….I wouldn’t mind if you missed me more often gem.” He mumbles, and you kiss his neck. Just a little.

Yeah, this is going to be a loooong night for both of you.

Eustass "Captain" Kid 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kid was polishing up some gear — adjusting, fixing, and screwdriver in hand.

That’s how you will find him, cross legged and posture bent.

He doesn’t even turn to face you when he hears you trudge inside.

“Tch, better not be here to nag about snacks, cause I ain’t budgin’ till I got this fixed—” he freezes, screwdriver screeching against metal when he feels your chest slumped over his enormous back. He’s rigid beneath you. Hard. Stiff. As if unable to breathe.

And you lean your cheek against his shoulder blade, hands travelling up his chest—feeling him, touching and caressing him. His warmth radiating into your chest, and you cling onto him harder.

“Oi.”

You nestle your face into his back.

“Oi.”

You rub your cheek against him.

“Oi…”

You place a kiss on the back of his biceps and he flinches, snapping his gaze onto you.

Face burning, cheeks all pink and flustered and you try not to laugh.

“What’s gotten into ya!?” He practically yells out, “You think you’re going to get snacks by actin’ like a little kitten; you’re wrong—”

You lean in, and shut him up with a kiss on the cheek.

And that’s what you do.

You kiss, kiss, kiss and kiss him all over the face until you’ve stunned the vocab out of him.

Your hands are still pressed on his pecs, breasts still pushed against his spine and he goes completely steam red.

“Baby,” you hum and your voice is low, almost pleading, and it makes him tense. Warmth forming up his chest. “I missed you. I missed you so much today.” You bury your cheek against his sturdy shoulder, eyes closing. “I want to be near you, is that okay?” You look up, “Or are you too busy?”

And your angry oversized tomato just stares, teeth gritted and cheeks all flushed. His ears too.

Kid clicks his tongue, “Whatever. Do as you please.”

He says that, but his posture eases, shoulders slumps and his heart beating a little bit too fast for his liking.

He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind it if you missed him a little bit more often.

Aokiji Kuzan 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kuzan was napping.

Snoring on the sofa to be exact.

It was dead in the night when you tiptoed in. Blanket wrapped around you like a warm fuzzy burrito, in search for cuddles.

“Kuzan?”

No response. Just a snore. And you inch near.

He has a sleep mask on, and his hands are folded over his chest. Chest going up… then down.

You press your lips, manoeuvring above him. Placing your ear where his heart sits, and when you sink your weight into him, only then do you hear the snoot bubble pop.

Hand going to his sleep mask, making a small gap with his thumb to take a peek and when he sees you? He blinks himself awake.

“Oh?” Kuzan tries to sit himself up but when you lock your thigh around his waist, tight, firm—does he freeze. “This is a first.”

you hum. “Go back to sleep.” And you rub your face into his chest. “I like this spot.”

A sweat droplets makes it to his cheek, a corner of his lip turning up. His large hand placing it above your hair. Slow, faint, as if careful to not provoke your change of mind.

“Everythin’ alright? Nothing’s buggin you?”

You shake your head, looking up to him.

Face all shy and mischievous, making him tense.

And when you lean in, crawling up his abdomen, the grinding of each others bodies forces him still, hands hovering above your ribs as you come closer. Placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Just for tonight, Kuzan’, just for tonight—so enjoy it.” There is a giggle in your tone, a tease almost, and you sink back down. Head nested in the crook of his neck and Kuzan lets out a scoff.

Easing back into the sofa, larger hands landing on your back.

Bringing you close.

“Since you insist then,” he cups your head. His finger drawing slow, faint caresses over your back. Kissing the top of your head. “don’t mind me.”

You two lay like that till morning comes, calm, safe — lousing. And maybe, just maybe, when his most lonesome hours hits—he’ll think of this moment, of you, and the warmth of your chest.

"...Oh. Well, they're pretty." She studied it for a second, then smiled.

"What?" Nami asked.

Robin simply held it out, and Luffy took it.

His world became very, very quiet.

Sunlight spilled across a small island market, illuminating the woman standing in the center of the frame.

You looked older now, your hair a little longer. There were faint laugh lines around your eyes. You wore an apron dusted in flour, one hand wrapped around the shoulder of a young woman—clearly your daughter—both of you laughing at whoever had taken the picture.

Happy and comfortable. Luffy hadn't seen that smile in twenty-six years.

Nobody spoke as they watched a myriad of emotions cross over their captain's face.

Recognition came first, then relief so profound his shoulders seemed to loosen all at once. It was followed by something quieter, something none of them had excpected to see settle so naturally across Luffy's features.

Longing.

Not for the years he'd missed, Luffy has never been one to dwell on the past.

But rather for the life you'd lived without him. His thumb traced the corner of the photograph almost unconsciously.

"She's okay."

It wasn't a question, but rather pure, uncomplicated relief.

Nami quietly unfolded the invitation.

It would mean the world to me if you would attend my wedding. My mother always spoke fondly of the people she met while sailing, and I think she'd be happy to see old friends again. Please come if you're able.

Luffy read it once, then again, his small smile appearing on his face without his permission.

Not the bright grin his crew knew, but something softer, a smile that's rarer.

"Guess she's still making friends everywhere." He carefully folded the invitation, then tucked the photograph inside his hat.

Twenty-six years ago, he'd sailed away to continue chasing the dream he'd carried since he was a boy. He remembered glancing back only once, to see you standing at the end of the dock, smiling even as the tears streamed down your face, waving him onward.

"Go, become the Pirate King."

You never asked him to stay, and he had never asked you to come. At the time, it hadn't felt like goodbye. Just another farewell between two people who believed the sea would bring them back together.

Instead, life has quietly happened. You moved forward, building a home, a family, a life that was hopefully full of laughter that he'd never been there to witness.

For the first time in years, Luffy found himself wondering. Not with regret, because he'd never regret chasing his dream, but with quiet curiosity.

What if he'd asked? Would you have laughed and told him no? Would you have climbed aboard without a second thought?

Or would things have unfolded exactly as they were always meant to?

His thumb brushed over the photograph one last time before carefully tucking it beneath the band of his straw hat, treating it with the same care he reserved for his greatest treasures.

Maybe this invitation was nothing more than a chance to celebrate another happy day.

Or maybe fate had decided that twenty-six years was long enough.

"So."

Everyone looked at him; his familiar grin had returned, filled with boundless optimism that they'd always known. "When do we leave?"

Several hundred miles beneath the sea, the Polar Tang was unusually quiet. Bepo sorted mail while Penguin and Shachi argued over whose turn it was to cook.

"FINE! I'm better off doing it anyway since you don't season properly." Penguin says, throwing his arms up, turning to leave, while Shachi screeched and went to follow after him. It's Bepo's voice that stops them.

"Captain."

Law didn't look up from the medical journal spread across his desk, humming to let his crew know he heard them.

"You got an invitation."

"I'm not interested."

"It's for a wedding."

"No."

"Weddings typically come with free food."

"Let me see it."

Bepo beamed triumphantly before placing the envelope on the desk, making Law sigh while he grabbed the invitation. He had every intention of skimming it before adding it to the ever-growing pile of correspondence he had no interest in answering.

Until he noticed the handwriting, his fingers froze.

In all his life, he has only known one person who has ever mixed between lowercase and uppercase within the same word as if grammar itself were merely a suggestion.

Yours. Except…

No, not quite.

Law's eyes narrowed as he looked closer. Yes, it was the same uneven capital letters, the same exaggerated loops, and the same habit of letting the last word drift ever so slightly downward. But the penmanship itself was different, someone younger who has spent years unconsciously copying yours.

Which meant whoever had written this knew you. At least, well enough to inherit your handwriting.

Carefully—with the precision he normally reserves for surgery—he broke the seal.

A photograph slipped free, Law catching it before it touched the desk.

His breath hitched as he recognized the face in the photo, even after all these years.

It's you, standing beneath flowering vines outside a seaside inn.

Older, but no less beautiful, in the effortless way time granted only certain people.

Soft laugh lines framing the corners of your eyes. Flour dusted your face and apron, evidence of work interrupted, while a young woman stood tucked comfortably beneath your arm, both of you smiling toward whoever stood behind the camera.

Healthy, warm color in your face. No visible injuries or scars.

His mind cataloged each detail automatically before finally settling on the one thing that made his chest tighten.

The wooden sign hanging above the entrance, The Seabreeze Inn.

The paint was never as he'd imagined it would be, but he'd recognize that name anywhere.

"One day," you'd laughed beneath a sky full of stars aboard the Polar Tang, "I'm going to own a little inn by the ocean."

He remembered glancing up from the book he'd been reading.

"An inn?"

"Mhm."

"Why?"

You'd smiled at him then—that same smile frozen forever inside the photograph.

"Because everyone deserves somewhere warm to come home to."

He'd never forgotten.

And you'd built it, exactly as you'd dreamed.

His gaze drifted back to you, admiring how your face may have changed throughout the years, but your smile hadn't changed at all.

"Captain?"

Law hadn't realized he'd frozen, or stopped breathing.

His thumb brushes lightly across the edge of the photograph as his free hand reaches out to grab the invitation and unfold the letter. Now that he has confirmation that this does have something to do with you, he's quick to try and fix it.

His eyes lingered on a single line.

My mother would be happy to see old friends again.

Mother.

So the young woman beside you...

His gaze flickered back to the photograph.

The resemblance was subtle, but it was there. Within her smile, the shape of your eyes, the handwriting, the conclusion assembled itself almost effortlessly.

The invitation hadn't come from you, but rather someone you'd raised. Someone who had grown up watching your hand write shopping lists, letters, recipes, and birthday cards until she'd unknowingly mimicked every little habit.

Law's chest tightened.

Twenty-six years ago, he'd promised himself he'd come back. Once he'd finished what he needed to do, once he'd become strong enough, once the next battle was over.

There had always been another island, another patient, another mystery, another tomorrow.

Life had moved forward without asking whether he was ready, and you had built the very future you'd once described to him beneath the stars.

An inn, a daughter, a home. A life that had continued beautifully without him. Not because he'd chosen wrong, but because he'd spent too many years believing there would always be time to return.

"Surface."

The room fell silent. Penguin blinked. "The surface?"

"We're changing course to this island immediately."

Shachi frowned. "For a wedding? Who is she, Captain?"

Law carefully folded the invitation along its original crease before slipping it—and the photograph—into the inside pocket of his coat, treating both with the same care he reserved for irreplaceable things.

"No."

The single word was quiet, certain. He reached for Kikoku. "We're going for someone I should've gone back for."

Silence lingered for only a heartbeat, then Bepo's face lit up with the brightest smile anyone had seen all week.

"Right away, Captain!"

The Victoria Punk never had quiet mornings. Someone on the crew was always shouting, usually Kid. Today, his victim just happened to be Heat.

"I said tighter!"

"It's tied!"

"Yeah, well, it looks crooked!"

"Cause the mast is crooked!"

Killer walked past the argument without so much as a glance, sorting through the week's mail with practiced indifference.

"Invitation," he brings up casually.

Kid didn't even glance over, "Throw it out."

"You sure? It has your name."

"So?"

"And it came with a photograph."

That finally caught his attention. A photo? That's certainly a new one.

"What?"

Killer handed it over, as Kid opened it one-handed.

The photograph slid into his palm, allowing everything else to disappear. No shouting, insults, or sarcastic comments. Just silence.

You sat on the front porch of a sprawling seaside hotel, sunlight warming your face as you laughed at something just beyond the frame.

Older, a little softer around the eyes, but still beautiful. His gaze swept over every inch of the photograph with surprising care.

Flour dusted your cheek, flower boxes overflower beneath every window. There was a young woman leaning comfortably against your side, smiling just as brightly as you were, both clearly happy.

Kid's jaw tightened as he got lost in days long since past.

"Damn."

Killer watched quietly, knowing better than to interrupt. Kid's eyes continued wandering over the photograph, before stopping on a small detail.

There, hanging from the porch roof, swaying gently in the sea breeze, was an old iron wind chime. Crude, a little uneven, and completely underwhelming for most people.

But Kid recognized every dent, every weld, and piece of crooked metal. He'd made it twenty-six years ago.

You'd complained one evening that you missed falling asleep to the sound of church bells whenever the wind picked up. And so he'd spent half the night cobbling together something he considered 'better'.

The morning had you laughing so hard you nearly cried, before you kissed him anyway.

"So you'd kept it." The words escaped him before he realized he'd spoken them. His chest felt strangely tight.

He'd thought you'd kept sailing, thought you'd found another adventure, another impossible dream.

Instead, you'd built one.

One with flower boxes, baking, and an inn overlooking the sea. A daughter, a home.

A quiet laugh escaped him in disbelief; his eyes finally found the invitation.

"A wedding, huh?"

Heat looked between them, confused but ready for whatever was coming next. "So... are we going?"

Kid folded the photograph with surprising care, slipping it back inside the envelope before tucking it safely into his coat.

"We're absolutely going." He turned toward the helm. "Set course."

Heat blinked, "For a wedding?"

Kid looked out across the sea, the grin spreading across his face, hopeful. The kind of hope he'd convinced himself he'd outgrown years ago.

"Nah." His fingers brushed the envelope tucked safely against his chest. "I'm going to see the woman I always meant to come back for."

Far away, on a quiet island tucked safely beyond the attention of emperors and marines alike, you stood on a ladder outside your little hotel, hanging strings of white flowers across the front veranda.

The wedding was only four days away, and there was still so much to do.

Rooms to prepare, food to cook. Guests are arriving from neighboring islands, friends you've made in the time since you've settled down here.

You smiled to yourself, taking a break to enjoy the sunset. If only you knew that, at that very moment, three ships from your past had all changed course, sailing straight toward the place you had come to call home.

And maybe a place for them to call home.