#roger x reader

The rest of the camp recedes into ambient noise, fire crackles, a littlun whines and someone jostles past with a holler. None of it matters to Roger.

What matters is that Jack is speaking to you.

And not just that — he’s putting on a performance.

Not delegating instruction, or delivering the curt, utilitarian directives he employs when bossing around the others, but speaking in a way that suggests that you’re an audience worth captivating. He recounts the hunt: a reconstruction shaped for dramatics, broad in wild gestures, and elevated in pitch. He lowers himself, demonstrates the stalk before the inevitable lunge at an imaginary animal. His hands carve shapes in the air, delineating the pig’s imagined path. It’s a crude pantomime delivered with a relish that indicates he’s embellishing events instead of actually recounting them, exaggerating the smaller parts to put on a good show.

You’re wholly absorbed in whatever he’s putting on. You lean forward like the sheer proximity would enhance the image he is fabricating, your eyes tracking every movement with a hungry intensity. 

“I can’t believe I missed it,” you bemoan. “I should’ve been there!”

Jack grins and readily agrees, “You should’ve been there. You’d have seen. It was perfect.”

“…Will you go again?”

Jack nods resolutely. “Of course, I will! First thing tomorrow.” Then he waits to see your reaction.

“Then I’ll come too!”

There is nothing in your tone that mitigates the force of that declaration, unshaped by the usual caution: you don’t temper your desire to fit the expectations of the group when you declare it so plainly.

There is a ripple of reaction, a sharp bark of laughter, a mumbled remark, but Jack doesn’t dismiss the proclamation.

Instead, he appraises you. And this is where he expects Jack to say no, you’d only slow them down. Jack isn’t the sentimental type, he doesn’t invest in what doesn’t serve him. 

But he doesn’t, what he says instead is—

“Perhaps,” Jack says.

Perhaps.

A door left ajar, and you beam at it as though it has been flung wide.

Roger decides he’s seen enough to know that this isn’t a passing anomaly. There’s a clear pattern and it needs to be dealt with accordingly. 

—

Roger isn’t impulsive, so he doesn’t seek you out with immediacy. Curiousity is a slow accrual of pressure with him. He watches you over the course of the afternoon, noting unremarkable details that could collectively amount to something. 

When the others shoulder the pig, you take your place among them without protest, but your hold slackens sooner than theirs, fingers adjusting, readjusting, the strain finding you a little early. The carcass swings with its own weight, and you lag by a fraction, never enough to warrant comment, but always enough to be recorded by Roger.

Your contributions arrive, they aren’t absent — not when not contributing to the structure Jack had was a surefire way to earn his ire, so you narrowly avoid it. You give what’s required and no more, your effort tapering at the edges where theirs seems to hold fast.

You complain as the others do, your voice wriggling easily into the general litany, the interminable drag of it all. The grievances are communal, you don’t stand apart in your diatribes any more than you do in your labour.

And you laugh too easily.

This, Roger finds especially vexating. Your laughter spills out at the smallest provocation. And yet Jack doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, your laughter appears to encourage him, to draw him further into his own performances.

You listen.

Is that it, then? Is that what Jack likes about you?

Roger’s head inclines slightly, he isn’t convinced. He’s quieter than you, when it counts. Doesn’t cut in, lets Jack run on without interruption, without having to fight for it.

You don’t do any of that.

It’s a nuisance, is what it is. 

—

By the time he approaches you, the camp has thinned into its evening configurations. The fire has burned lower, its earlier exuberance reduced to a steady glow. The littluns have drifted toward sleep or quiet whimpering. The older boys linger in loose, half-drifting clusters, their bodies slack-limbed and food-dulled, energy seeping out of them into a sun-drunk listlessness.

You are alone, sitting a little apart from the others, sequestered on a large boulder and looking at the unfurling chaos from above. You are picking at something — a stick, perhaps — stripping it of its bark in absent-minded strokes.

Roger watches you for a moment before making his presence known, he doesn’t announce himself, but interposes himself into your line of sight and waits. 

You look up.

“Roger,” you greet, lips curling into an amicable, tempered smile. There’s a modicum of confusion present too, like you can’t figure out what he’d possibly want from you.

Uncommunicative by nature, he remains silent, considering the sound of his own name in your mouth.

You have returned to your mindless task of chipping away at the remnants of bark. Once again, you look entirely ordinary.

And yet Jack will seek you out tomorrow.

Roger knows this with a certainty that feels, in its own small way, like a warning.

“Come here,” he says.

You look up, startled, then squint slightly as though trying to determine whether this is a request or an order.

“Why?”

Roger does not answer. He turns and walks.

There is a pause in which you might decide not to follow. He does not look back to check. The outcome interests him, but he won’t go out of his way to court it.

A moment later, he hears you shuffle behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

You leap up to your feet, and follow him, keeping your pace. Roger adjusts his stride minutely, to ensure you must exert yourself to keep up. 

The path he takes isn’t one the other boys favour. It veers away from the well-trodden routes that connect fire, shelter, and shore, slipping instead into a denser part of the island where the undergrowth thickens and the light fractures into uncertain patches. 

He stops.

You nearly walk into him.

“We’re here.”

Then he steps aside.

The pit is not immediately visible. It is obscured by a careless arrangement of branches and leaves, a half-hearted camouflage. Roger nudges the covering aside with his foot, divulging the dark hollow beneath.

It is deeper than it first appears.

You peer into it, frowning.

“What is that?”

“A pit,” Roger says.

“I can see that,” you reply, a flicker of irritation imbues itself into your voice. “Why is it here?”

He shrugs.

“There are traps round here.”

You crouch at the edge, leaning forward to get a better look. The light does not reach the bottom cleanly; it gathers instead in dim layers, the canopy of trees above shades it, casting an illusory depth.

“There’s something down there,” Roger says.

You glance up at him.

“What?”

He points.

Your notice of it arrives only after an uncertain adjustment of the eye. There, at the pit’s lowest hollow, rests a small and only partially revealed object, its presence obscured by the close embrace of packed earth. From your vantage it withholds any clear form.

“What is it?” you urge again.

“Why don’t you go and see?”

You blink.

“You want me to climb down there?”

“I should have thought that obvious.”

There is a silence in which the request might congeal into something more obviously unreasonable. Roger watches your face, waiting for the refusal, any instinctive self-preservation that should assert itself any moment now. 

Instead, your mouth inches into a half-smile.

“That’s it?”

He feels like he must have frowned.

You grin, similar to the unguarded one you offer to Jack. It catches Roger off guard.

“Alright then,” you say.

Before he can figure out a way to respond, you swing your legs over the edge and begin to lower yourself into the pit.

For a moment, Roger just watches.

You descend with an awkward determination, your footing uncertain but persistent. The sides of the pit are not smooth; roots protrude, offering precarious handholds. Dirt loosens under your weight, falling in small cascades that patter softly against the ground below.

Roger doesn’t offer assistance.

You reach the bottom with a muted thud, knees bending to absorb the impact. For a second, you remain crouched, orienting yourself, then you straighten and look up.

“Well?” you call. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Roger does not answer immediately.

There is something about the way you stand there, confined within the circumference of the pit, that sharpens his attention. You look diminished and contained.

“Just pick it up,” he says finally.

You roll your eyes and turn to locate the object. It takes you a moment, but then you crouch and retrieve it, brushing away the dirt.

“It’s just a rock,” you say.

There is a note of disbelief in your voice, you had clearly been expecting something more.

“Bring it up,” Roger says.

You look up at him.

There is a beat.

“Help me up, then.”

Roger makes no move to help.

You stare at him.

“You need to help me,” you reason carefully, voice wavering. “How else am I supposed to get out of here?”

Another silence.

“Very funny,” you say, but there is no humour in it.

Roger does not respond.

You wait.

Your voice follows him, rising, shifting from irritation to something harsher.

“Roger, don’t— you can’t be serious?! Roger!”

—

Roger doesn’t think about the time much on the island, it’s not like it matters much. But it’s long enough for the light to shift, for the heat to dull into something less oppressive and sweltering. 

When he returns, it’s with no real sense of urgency.

The path is the same. The undergrowth does not resist him. The pit reveals itself as before, its careless covering disturbed.

He approaches the edge.

And pauses.

You’re not where he left you.

He lifts his dark gaze, scanning, his attention unspooling into the dimming island. The horizon is in the act of undoing itself, light seeping away like a secret reluctantly surrendered. Tree trunks conspire with shadow, bleeding downwards into the earth until the ground becomes indistinguishable.

Then, from somewhere behind him:

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back.”

Your voice.

Roger turns.

You stand a few feet away, besmirched with earth and sweat. The evening light finds the streaks upon your skin and the dull sheen of exertion. In your hand, the small rock is still clutched, a token wrested, your fingers close round it.

You look apoplectic.

Not the petulant irritation he has seen flicker across your face before. Your eyes are bright with it, like a bolt of lightning with nowhere else to go. 

“How did you get out?” he asks.

There are scrapes along your arms, dirt ground into your skin, evidence of effort that must have been prolonged. The sides of the pit are not easily climbed. It would have required determination. He should have accounted for how persistent you always were. 

There isn’t much left to say. Roger never has a lot to fill the silence with — that’s usually left up to others.

He is curious when you take a step toward him and then another, and then you’re sprinting towards him and he belatedly registers alarm. 

You close the distance in a single rush and drive both hands into his chest. The impact jolts through him; Roger stumbles back, feet catching on a gnarled root half-buried in the soil. He goes down awkwardly, the air knocked loose from him.

The rock is still in your grip.

You raise your hand, lancing it down. Roger rolls, narrowly avoiding the blow, and the stone scrapes empty air. You lunge after him again anyway, face tightened with indignation.

You manage to land a hit this time.

It’s not a large rock, but it doesn’t need to be. The sound it makes is enough. Roger cries out, an involuntary sound, and something in his expression fractures into a thin, venomous sneer.

He catches your arm as you draw back for another strike and twists. Pain flares hot and immediate, but you refuse the instinct to let go. Your grip tightens instead, knuckles tightening, even as the strain forces a sound out of you that is closer to shock than anything coherent.

The rock falls out of your hand.

You are shaking slightly, still carrying the aftershock of a paroxysm of anger that hasn’t been properly expelled from your body. Your breath comes quick and uneven, unable to settle into anything you can control. 

You look nothing like you did earlier, standing at Jack’s side. Nothing like the rapt attentive, cheeky figure you present yourself as. 

A shed carapace implies growth with the creature outgrowing its old constraints. But this feels more like being flayed, the outer layer gone with nothing to replace it, left with a sensitivity that is intolerable and a barrage of sensation that arrives amplified. The torrid heat is unbearable against your skin, the ground bumpy under your feet. 

You are now left wordless and furious and trembling with rage.

Roger lunges for the rock and you dive to where it is, already prepared to intercept, your hand crashes down over his with such a blunt force that his knuckles are driven straight into the dirt, skin grinding against soil, your fingers locking over his in a grip that is more of a refusal to concede even the illusion of him having it. He jerks, the motion ricocheting back through you so that the two of you are tethered by this contested rock, the object shifting, chafing between your palms. It never settles in one hand, as if it resents being claimed at all and then, you relinquish it abruptly.

Your hand leaves the rock mid-struggle and finds him instead, surging upwards into his hair, closing there, a fistful wrenched tight and yanked, hard enough that his head snaps back violently, his body dragged after it too unprepared.

He barges, an attempt to break the stalemate through impact. You answer immediately, hurling back with equal disregard for form, the exchange devolving into unadorned, a contest of refusal to lose, each of you endeavouring to impose direction on the other without the courtesy of any actual fighting technique. He tries to turn, to slip the axis of his body out from under your hold, but every effort is interrupted, each yank forcing his body to comply with a trajectory he wants to avoid, his hand is still clamped around your arm, nails digging deeper and frantic now, more punishing, as he tries to peel you off piece by piece.

You refuse to yield to him, not when he started it. You pull again.

And this time it works.

You drive him.

It’s hardly efficient but there’s a relentless, forward insistence that denies him the time needed to recover, each step you force him into is misaligned, his attempts to brace undermined by the lingering imbalance, his shove back lacks the foundation it needs to matter.

He’s off-centre now, irretrievably so, his off-kiltered body doesn’t answer him with his earlier precision, each correction compounds the error instead of rectifying it. You see it happen: the resistance thinning and his footing giving way beneath the constant pressure you refuse to ease up on.

And you don’t hesitate, not even for a second.

You give him one hard shove, everything in you thrown behind it, an unbroken act of force that leaves no room for you to think on.

He goes down awkwardly, it happens too fast.

Roger lands badly. 

The impact jars through bone, a blunt, internal shock that steals the air from him more effectively than any blow. For a moment he doesn’t move, the shock keeps him rooted, body folding in on itself in the abyss-depth of the pit. He feels numb for a while, conjuring up an emotion takes its time. 

His tongue presses, once, against the tender rise on the inner wall of his cheek where you’d struck him. A trace of iron seeps across his palate, there’s no gush of blood, only the faintest metallic taste. He holds it there a moment longer than necessary before letting his tongue withdraw, leaving the swelling to continue its discreet ascent.

Roger gets to his feet, with no urgency, one hand brushing dirt from his thigh while the other hangs loose at his side. His leg answers with a low, stubborn ache, lodged deep and spreading, dulling rather than sharpening. He shifts his weight once to settle it, then again, until the discomfort folds into the rest of him and is no longer worth attending to. He doesn’t bother calling out for you. He already knows you’re not there.

He finds his footing in the shallow grooves cut into the sides, the marks crude but serviceable, each one holding just enough to bear his weight. His heart strikes hard against his ribs, a rapid, insistent knocking. So Jack had not been humouring you. 

He hauls himself upwards with controlled effort, arms tightening, shoulders drawing in. His breath comes quickly, short bursts escaping one after another, his eyelids flickering with an involuntary energy that borders on anticipation. The dirt gives slightly beneath his hands, loose and shifting, disturbed where yours must have scraped and pressed in search of hold. He digs his fingers in deeper, as if he could excavate your fingerprints from the soil, he imagines the same dirt under your nails from when you had clambered out as there is in his. 

He sinks his fingers deeper into the wall of the pit, past the friable crust into the denser, cooler earth beneath, where the soil yields with a reluctant give and then holds him there. The grooves are unmistakably yours, each one a record of effort from your earlier clambering. He fits his hand into them, aligning palm to hollow, fingers to the shallow impressions left behind, like the ground still retains the warmth of your tightened grip.

The dirt works its way under his nails, settling into the same narrow crescents, the same spaces where yours must have gathered as you hauled yourself up. He considers that briefly, the shared grime and the matching traces. His thumb presses into one of the deeper marks, testing its shape, testing the amount of pressure and doggedness it must have taken to carve it there.

For a moment he doesn’t move. His hand remains planted, claimed by the impression left behind. 

☆┆Roger ;

⟢ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏ Wealth, fame, power.

Everything this world had to offer. From the deepest secrets of the past, to its riches and so on.

The one piece.

The man who'd attained it all, sailing the seas alongside his notorious crew, all making names for themselves, and of course, that didn't exclude you.

Numerous, countless adventures, aboard the Oro Jackson, you grew fond of every single person in the Roger Pirates, and one particular man. Roger himself.

The king of the pirates himself. A threat to every naval base, hell— A threat to even the most dangerous pirates. Despite having obtained life's full bounty. He'd never ceased looking at you like you were more precious than the one piece itself.

Which, to him, you were.

Roger was a man who loved with every fiber of his soul. Never failing to show so through even the smallest gestures.. well, they were small to him, atleast. Often giving you his share of their treasure findings, throwing himself infront of you in battle for defense, and afterwards, prioritizing checking up on you before the others.

Public display of affection? Never a problem. For someone as fierce and brave as him, Roger was never ashamed of displaying his affection towards you infront of anybody. He prized you and held you close like a sacred gem, a trophy. Never hesitating to hold your hand and kiss you, with something along the lines of; "This is my future wife, everyone!!" and laughing warmly at his own words and the sight of your embarassed face, from the bottom of his heart.

But,

All the laughter, the joy, the thrill of adventure alongside your beloved, didn't come with no consequence. Because even though everyone was proud and content, there was a sense of impending doom you simply couldn't get off your chest.

For his days were counted.

Roger would soon die.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏ It's been a few days since you'd reached Laugh Tale. The news were spreading all over the world, with Gol D. Roger now earning the glorious title of; King of the pirates.

Everyone was proud, including himself. They'd been partying for days, almost non-stop. It seemed like you've been hearing their laughter and boisterous cries and cheers for a decade, echoing late into the night as they danced, feasted and reveled in celebration.

The air smelled of spiced rum punch and roasted meat, mingling with the salty tang of ocean breeze ahead of you. Away from the noise, arms rested on the railing as you leaned against it. Your head spiraled, you'd tried partying with them. It's not that you weren't proud of the news and his accomplishments aswell, but for very obvious reasons, you simply couldn't enjoy it. It was like blasting music at a funeral— It was morally wrong.

Your fingers drummed restlessly against the edge of the railing. While your eyes were gazing at the moon, hanging low, casting a comforting light on the waves lapping peacefully on the anchored ship's hull. Your mind wasn't exactly there. Thoughts wandering to Roger, his pending death, his illness. You knew he would never get caught by marines, but one way or another, he just had it coming.

And the thought of that, made a tear or two drop from your eyes, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you sulked and basked in the stillness of your thoughts.

And then, a hand on your shoulder. Rough, big, yet ever so gentle on your skin. Squeezing gently.

You haven't heard a single sound as he approached, cape billowing in the slight wind, rippling with every step.

"It's not like you to leave the parties, Y/N!" Roger spoke up, voice deep and gravelly. He always sounded joyful, but there was an undertone of concern etched in his words.

Not hearing a response from you, he gently turned you around to face him, sighing at your sulking face.

"You're not thinking about that again.. are you?" His expression hardened for a moment, before turning into a smile again, placing his free hand on your other shoulder.

"How do you expect me to dance and have fun when I know what's coming soon, Roger." You eventually spoke up, your eyes never meeting his, hands clenching at your sides.

He moved to now stand beside you, arm draping over your shoulder and pulling you close and walking back to where everyone was.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, just enjoy it now !!"

"Hey — !"

A cheerful laughter boomed out of him over your protest as he dragged you alongside him, against your will, thank you very much.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏ And so, the night wore on. You'd somewhat managed to drown your thoughts with the intense partying and story-telling. Having company sure helped. Though only temporarily.

Though you couldn't say the same for your Roger. He never knew when to stop when it came to taking shots, always up for a challenge. Completely down on the floorboards of the main deck, snoring his heart out, cheeks flushed red and his mustache slightly damp from the rum that spilled.

With a sigh, you kneeled beside him, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Hey.. wake up, Roger."

"He never takes it easy, does he?" Rayleigh chuckled from a nearby crate he was seated on, arms crossed over his chest. He was surprisingly sober-looking for the amount of drinks he had with the others.

You sighed, eventually giving up. You leaned down, arms crossed on his chest as you laid your head between them on it.

Rayleigh took in the sight, a small endeared smile peeking at the corners of his mouth. Leaning back against the wall, he spoke again ;

"You're worried about him, aren't you, Y/N ?" The blonde remarked, hand on his chin, scratching the bits of his beard as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, Rayleigh. How could I not be? He's too.. not worried." You mumbled, afraid to wake him up.

"He's just Roger, you know how he is."

"Well, he's too Roger, then." You scoffed, rolling your eyes in mock annoyance. Rayleigh let out a small laugh despite himself, before continuing;

"You wanna know what he told me?"

"Hm?"

A pause, a long, deafening silence, before he stood up,

"..Actually, it's better if you talk it out with him, instead of hearing it from me." Rayleigh retracted, before striding away, and into the shadows he went.

You didn't want to push it further, your gaze now turning to your beloved. Head still on his chest, now in his direction, admiring and studying every inch of his face like he'd disappear the second you looked away.

With his eyes still closed, Roger's lips curled into a faint smirk, his hand reaching behind your head, fingers curling in your hair and ruffling it in a playful gesture.

"I won't die yet, my love." The pirate mumbled, almost like he was saying it to himself, but it was very clear he was conscious and speaking to you. "And when I do, I don't want a single tear from you, you hear ?? That's not like you, at all!!" He continued, chuckling constantly as he spoke, his smile growing wider.

Your expression faltered, your mouth opening in a silent speech, nothing came out. Unsure of what to say.

You tilted your head, leaning into his hand as it tangled in your hair, reaching to hold it there with a gentle squeeze.

"..I won't." You tittered through a cracked voice, tears forming in your eyes. Ones you didn't allow to fall.

His hand on your hair tightened just the slightest bit, not enough to hurt, just to pull your face closer to his and kissing the top of your head.

"You just did!" Roger laughed, and you could feel the sound vibrating on his chest, while still scratching your hair.

"I didn't." You sniffled, like you were sucking the tears— burning in your eyes, threatning to fall, —back into your very skull.

"Well don't!" He chuckled, a hand reaching to roughly, yet playfully pinch your cheek.

You laid down fully with him on the floor, gazing at the starry night sky above you, through heavy lidded, sleepy eyes. Silence reigned the comfortable moment, before he spoke again;

"I'll always be with you, Y/N. Even when you think I'm gone." Roger smiled. Like he was speaking absentmindedly, his words came naturally, always soothing you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏ You relaxed. You genuinely smiled again. For the first time in days.

☆┆Zoro ;

⟢ ࣪ ﹏⚔︎﹏ The strongest beast in the world's whereabouts; Onigashima island, in Wano-Kuni,

More specifically, upper side, right dome on the rooftop. An expansive, windswept battlefield perched atop the massive skull-shaped island fortress.

The air up there is thick with tension and raw, oppressive energy. A restless wind howls constantly across the rooftop, tugging at your cloak, hair billowing from it. The sky is an angry canvas of storm clouds roiling overhead.

You could almost taste the acrid tang smoke, blood, and something more sinister, mingling in the air. Each smell fighting for dominance in your nostrils with a bitter edge to them.

Every step of yours echoed in the vastness of the rocky island. A sinister, pulsating glow leaks out from the cavernous eye sockets of the colossal skull, casting the rooftop in an eerie, hellish red illumination. An unnatural hue, like the skull itself was alive with some malovelent force in its depths.

If this wasn't hell, you don't know what is, at this point.

Holding your hand close to your chest, you walked around the roof recklessly, yelling a name with each step you took. His name.

"Zoro !! Zoro?! Where are you, damn it ! Give me a sign you're there!" You shouted, your voice echoing again. No response. But your walking never ceased.

"Damn it.. I hope he's okay.. that King guy is no joke. Man.. he sure looked intimidating." You sighed to yourself. Like your own words were keeping you company. Or rather, distracting your from how absolutely terrified you were of this dark inferno.

"I'm sure he couldn't hold a candle to Zoro, though!" You added to yourself, with what looked like a really forced smile.

Meanwhile, what you weren't aware of, was that Zoro had already won. Having long beat that guy. Though, completely demolished from the injuries of the battle and the aftermath of Chopper's injections to get back on his feet again, even if temporarily.

He had heard your voice echoing from a distance. His ears perking up and picking up the sound almost immediately through his half-conscious state. His expression slightly faltering, eyes now wide open.

His grip on his swords tightened again, like he was trying to get up, to find you, to protect you again. Giving a very failed attempt at sitting up, his body immediately rejecting the movement.

"Shit.. Why would she come up here.—" Zoro grunted, his eyes squinting again from the pain.

But, you soon approached his location, spotting him from his perky green hair even from such a distance.

Your heart almost ceased beating, you stopped in your tracks for a split second, before now running towards him, stumbling on a few rocks.

He looked he owed the Grim Reaper money.. and maybe he did. Who knows. But that's definitely the face of a man who proudly went through hell and back.

You finally reached him, kneeling beside him immediately, your hand reaching under his head to prop it on your lap comfortably.

"Zoro!? What happened to you?? Where's that.. pterodactyl guy.. or whatever he was- Whatever, are you okay??!" You blurted out, one question after the other. And he looked at you with a plain, dead expression.

"Tch..— 'This an interrogation? I'm not even hurt, woman." The green-hair grumbled, though his breathing was sharp, unsteady. Like it was intentionally selling him out.

You looked down at his face, meeting his gaze, before his quickly tore away from yours, his eyes half lidded, closing against his will, refusing to admit he was tired, and definitely injured.

With an ever so slight smile, you sighed. Fingers absentmindedly through his hair.

"I'll get you out of here, stop acting so tough, for once." You cooed, your arm draping over his shoulder, propping him against you and standing up with him.

You didn't get a response, his shoulders slumping, weight shifting, leaning entirely against you as he finally allowed himself to rest.

⟢ ࣪ ﹏⚔︎﹏ It's been.. how long now? Maybe two days.

Or three,

Or five.

You lost count,

Every thought filling your mind was simply.. well, none. Atleast, none other than worry, concern, and perhaps a few tears you allowed to slip when nobody was looking.

The battle was long over anyway, the injured blissfully sleeping and healing. The flower capital being the central location for medical care.

It was awfully quiet now, compared to the screams, the shouting, the loud banging and clinks of swords crashing in seemingly endless fights.

And you? You were restless. You paced around in Zoro's cabin like you were performing some sort of resurrection ritual. Like you'd somehow heal him with enough worry and tightening his refreshed bandages every five minutes.

But you decided to sit still for now, sitting beside the edge of his bed, your hand reluctantly making its way towards his own. Your warmth contrasting with his limp, cold limb.

Zoro was very much strong, undefeated for god knows how long. The type of strong that made aura emit from him the second he takes a fight seriously. The type that makes people straighten their backs and whisper rumors to eachother about the name he made for himself.

But,

Even someone like him had his limits. Hell, you'd seen it for yourself, the state he was in. And always pretending to be okay.

You sighed, and closed your eyes, another tear unconsciously dropping down your cheek. Your hand absentmindedly tightening on his, lightly. Like a prayer.

And then you felt it.

A twitch,

A twitch of his finger.

A sign.

And then, an ever so slight squeeze on your hand, followed by a faint, groggy groan.

Without opening his eyes, he murmured; "..Mmh, I would've liked waking up to something better than you wheeping over me.. Moron."

You didn't even let him say anything else, your eyes widening in surprise, the good kind. As you lunged at him into a tight hug, your arms draped around his neck like your life depended on this grasp.

Zoro opened his eye with an "Oof" sound, startled, hands hovering above your back.

"Hey— Calm down, will you-?? I'm still-"

"I was so worried, you've been out for days, it's not like you- !! I'm so glad, Zoro !" You managed to speak between sobs, completely ignoring the fact that you cut him off mid sentence.

Though, he didn't quite complain. You couldn't tell if he was just too tired to bother, or he just didn't for your sake.

Probably both.

His calloused hands eventually landed on your back, reciprocating the hug, his gaze never meeting yours as you nuzzled your sobbing, snotty face deep into his neck.

With a lazy eye roll, he gave you one, singular, awkward pat on the back. Like trying to fix a broken vase with tape and apologies. The swordsman was never quite good with actions, or words.. or any type of affection at all, but you could tell he appreciated the care.

"..Stop crying, you're soaking me in your snot, it's gross — You're wheeping like I just crawled out of my grave." Zoro mock-complained, though, the odd, rare softness in his voice betrayed his words.

With an embarassed chuckle, you pulled away, wiping the mess on your face with the back of your sleeve, a wide, relieved smile plastered on your face.

There was a moment of silence, not the bad kind. A comforting silence, like a reality check. A check that he was actually here, safe and sound. Your eyes never left him, as if you were scared he'd evaporate from the room the moment you looked away.

But Zoro, he didn't look. He peeked from the side of his eye once, and when he realized you were looking, his gaze promptly tore from yours.

"..Stupid. I would never get killed by someone like him.. Hell, I wouldn't get killed at all." He mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to you.

But you heard it. Because of course you did. And to which you responded;

"You literally met the grim reaper. I was worried sick."

"Wh— How do you know about that ??" Zoro raised both eyebrows, utterly disbelieving.

"You kept muttering something about owing money to it and how you'd actually fight death itself if it showed up again."

His ears reddened, lips turning into a flat line.

"You've always had strange dreams." You chuckled.

He blinked, once. Very slowly, then spoke again.

"..You— I— I've nothing to say."

"So you admit how dangerous that was? You're not invincible Zoro. I.. never doubted your strength, but I can see who we're up against in the new world, and.."

You trailed off, looking away.

"..I swore I wouldn't lose again, Y/N—"

Your eyes darted to him again, and for the first time during this interaction, he met your gaze. Eye to eye.

"—I'll be perfectly fine, as long as I don't have to worry about you crying a river the moment I'm injured. Every fight comes with an inevitable cost."

Zoro spoke firmly, like a vow, a promise. Both to himself, and to you. You especially. An unyielding tone washing over his deep voice.

His hand drifted to hold yours again. A rare move from someone who wasn't quite the best with affectionate gestures. But, from watching you, he picked up one or two things he thought would bring you a semblance of comfort. Though it was really awkward

"I.. Promise I'll always come back to you." Zoro mumbled, his cheeks dusted with a faint blush as he actively avoided looking at you. "..I guess." He continued, more to himself than to you.

You squeezed his hand back, like you were anchoring yourself to it, a warm, fond smile peeking at the corners of your lips with a small nod.

⟢ ࣪ ﹏⚔︎﹏ And surprisingly? You believed him. From the bottom of your heart, you once believed this moss-headed, sword wielding, booze drinking moron. He wasn't one for words. But definitely one for keeping promises like he meant them. And he did.

☆┆Mihawk ;

.⋆♱ ࣪ ﹏⁺ ཐིཋྀ In the Grand Line, lied thousands of strange places and weird islands, of all shapes and kinds. And one of them harbored the strongest swordsman in the world, and what so happens to be your husband.

Kuraigana island.

A place shrouded in dark skies and the kind of silence that came before storms. It was awfully quiet, and oddly peaceful for such an eerie looking island.

But fairly speaking, you'd probably have long lost your mind in here by now if it weren't for Mihawk's company.

And previously, for the past two years. These strange individuals came crashing like they always belonged here. A pink haired goth that looked like she was going through a phase, (though she looked really cute). And another swordsman who apparently already knew your husband from a duel. And somehow managed to convince him to endure two harsh years of training.

Very bold, even you wouldn't do that.

And you? You weren't directly involved in any of it, but you grew awfully fond of their presence. A sharp contrast to your previous, quiet life.

It was never silent anymore.

The contast banter between Perona and Zoro, half the rooms being redecorated in pink curtains and cutesy plushies, Zoro complaining about 'not having drank booze in like, forever', (forever: a few weeks. It was a non-negotiable condition in exchange for Mihawk's training).

"Oi— Ghost girl ! Did you put pink glitter on my swords ??!" Zoro shouted.

"They were grey, dull, bland and ugly! You have to admit they're so much better- and cuter now!" Perona rolled her eyes, giving him a bored look with a hint of a satisfied smirk at his frustration.

"I'll cut you up one of these days." He sighed.

"Try me." She giggled. And Mihawk facepalmed, hard.

"I wanted a peaceful life, why am I stuck babysitting two idiots and making sure every meal isn't diabetes-infested bagels." Your husband complained as you were getting ready for bed. Plopping yourself on the velvet sheet covered mattress beside him, you giggled at the remark, before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and a smile.

Not a word, just one glance at you, and a sigh, an accepting one.

Because even though it was a mess, a very chaotic one. God, you were delighted. And he could read you like an open book, he knew far too well. You enjoyed laughing fondly as your beloved pinched his forehead like he could massage his way out of the whole situation.

And for once since this started, seeing that smile on your face, Mihawk didn't mind it that much, for your sake only.

Though, there was a lingering feeling you couldn't shake off. You knew this would come to an end eventually, and in the spur of the moments, you didn't think about it.

But it eventually came. Slowly. It started with Zoro leaving first. You were the slightest bit upset, but atleast Perona stayed.

Not for long, either.

At the shore, only a few weeks later, you waved her off as she sailed away on her own, feeling a heavy tug on your chest, like a piece of you was now gone. That big goodbye smile plastered on your face immediately faded the moment she turned her back to you and left.

And of course, Mihawk noticed. Silently. But he knew. He didn't show much emotion himself, only crossing his arms and telling her to take care of herself. The thing that bothered him the most was that you were upset.

.⋆♱ ࣪ ﹏⁺ ཐིཋྀ

The days rolled into roughly a week. A week since silence haunted the castle again. No more shouting, arguing, playful banter, daily training sessions, bandaging up Zoro's wounds.

It was just you and hawkeye, alone again.

Seated beside you on a fancy, velvet arm-chair, Mihawk flipped through newspaper pages, his mind rarely drifting to the two. Unlike you, he was coping with their departure much better. He wasn't one for emotional attachment, he was just curious whether he'd get to see his apprentice's face on the news soon. His hand absentmindedly twirling his wine glass, the liquid moving around the edges smoothly, meeting his lips occasionally.

And you? Well, you've been sulking, loudly. Not with words, but you made it very obvious that you weren't taking this well. Sat beside a window, you stared out into the eerie horizon, zoning out, before propping an elbow on the table infront of you, one side of your cheek resting in the palm as you finally spoke up.

"It's really quiet, isn't it?"

"Mhm. Sure is." Mihawk responded quietly with a sip of wine, not even looking up from the newspaper.

You pouted, your free hand drumming your fingers on the table,

"Mmm..." You mumbled a hum.

No response.

You continued doing the same sound, over and over, louder each time. Until he cracked, putting the newspaper aside and meeting your gaze.

"Alright, what is it?" He spoke, composed and calm. Atleast until he saw unshed tears burning in your eyes, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"..I miss them." You confessed, quietly, like telling a sin. Though it wasn't much of a confession to him, since he knew, the moment he studied your expression as you watched them leave.

"I know you do."

"..Don't you??"

"They weren't keeping me alive or anything, we had an agreement, that was the end of the deal." He spoke, firm, unyielding.

"You're heartless."

"You wouldn't be married to me." He countered with a shrug and an ever so slight smug grin.

"..Fair." You sighed, voice slightly shaky with tears you were deseperately holding back. Inhaling deeply through your nose, trying to seem calm and composed.

Mihawk felt just a tinge (totally not just a tinge) of empathy. With a bit of hesitation and internal conflict, he pushed his chair back, making space for you. Silently calling you over with open arms.

You, on the other hand, never hesitated when he did this. Instantly getting up and plopping yourself on his lap, arms draped around his neck like silk, his own wrapping around your back, just tight enough to offer comfort.

Because unlike his usual stoic and cold demeanor, Mihawk had an undeniably soft spot for you. Which was natural, for being his wife. You loved how calm and rational he was in these situations.

For a while, he gave nothing but a warm embrace, a hug that held a million promises without a single word.

"..They're not deceased, or anything of the sort. You'll see them again.. Somewhere out there, at sea." Your lover spoke, deep, smooth voice barely a whisper tingling against your ear. "..Don't worry."

Don't worry.

It was just two words, but coming from him, they meant the world. You unconsciously clung onto him tighter, pulling your face back just enough to face him.

"..You always find the right words." You smiled, your hair slightly falling down from your face.

"Only for you." Mihawk responded, promptly reaching and tucking the strands behind your ear, leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, then another one around your lips, then to your lips directly, moving to your jaw. His thumbs tracing circles on your back absentmindedly.

"What's this for?" You spoke between giddy giggles, more like a pleased, intrigued question than a complaint. Your own hands caressing the back of his head, combing through his hair.

He paused mid kiss on your neck, just right under your ear, looking up at you with those ever so seducing, golden hues.

"Can't I show my crying wife comfort?"

"Never said that."

"Good." Hawkeye hummed in content, continuing his kiss pampering, before whispering in your ear again.

"When everyone leaves, I'll be here. Always."

He promised, firmly, solemnly, sincerely. His voice carried a sense of commitment, earnestness and eternal loyalty to you, the love of his life.

"..Don't cry again."

And right there, every shred of sorrow in your heart seemed to vanish in a moment's notice. You just got reminded that you have a loving husband who would quite literally end an entire fleet and a bloodline with a vegetable knife and carve your initials into their graves, without you even asking.

And you loved it.

You loved him.

“Mako! Mako! Look!” She exclaimed, pointing at a few figures sitting in the distance, various drinks placed around them.

“Hm?” The Zoan piped up, spotting three familiar figures sitting on a low, lying mushroom.

“Oh! It’s Pops.”

“P-ops?” She questioned, glancing up at the blonde.

“That’s our father-yoi, and our Captain,” He clarified, gesturing to the towering figure of Whitebeard

“Mr.Monkey is?”

“Mr Monkey?” He gaped, stopping his flight, throwing the girl up into the air so he could position her on his back, ignoring the small ‘wee’ the girl let out during the quick switch.

“Shans says Monkeys jump on trees, just like Mr.Monkey was before!” she nodded

“Pff- Then yeah, Mr.Monkey is our Captain,” he cackled, rolling with it; he couldn’t wait to tell his brothers about this one.

“Makko! I want to go see Capi!”

“Ya want me to drop you off-yoi?”

“Ya!”

“Alright, brace yourself,” he called, shimming her all the way to his talons once again and beginning his glide, circling the mushroom from above before dropping down and releasing the child.

“Wee!”

“Whoa there!” A voice laughed before catching her, pulling them to his lap, Dokucha letting out a giggle, looking up at Roger.

“Capi~” she cheered, hugging the man, or at least doing the best she could to envelop her small arms around the much bigger form of the Captain; leaning back at the familiar voice of the phoenix calling out to her with a joyful laugh.

“Bye-bye, little Flower! I’m sure I will see ya soon-yoi!” He boomed before giving one last flap of his wings and shooting away, leaving behind a trail of azure and golden flames as Dokucha clapped excitedly at the display!

“Wahahah! Up to no good, I see!” Roger Roared digging his fingers into her, causing her to flinch back with a shriek and a trail of giggles.

“I ‘m guessing that fella was yours?” Roger questioned, and at that moment, Dokucha spun around, finally noticing that Roger was not alone on the mushroom.

“Oh..” she realized, nuzzling closer to the man, any previous energy slowly dissipating in a bundle of nerves.

“Don’t worry, lad! These are good men! Good friends of mine!”Roger exclaimed, ignoring the sour look the blond giant had sent his way at the statement.

Roger, despite his jolly and what might look like naivety at first glance, was not an idiot and was actually more in tune with his emotions than others gave him credit for. He had long since known that, although doing much better, Dokucha was still recovering from a very dark childhood, a trauma that lingered and made itself apparent when certain unknown men approached her. He could easily see the way she shut herself off, the slight tremble of her body, and how their presence brought back the tumultuous memories of her previous ‘caretaker’. He was, however, incredibly grateful that her fear targeted very specific criteria in men; unfortunately, the men in front of her checked all the boxes for those criteria.

“Wahahaha! I am right here, am I not, lad?!” Roger cackled as he knew that the one thing that could inch Dokucha out of their current headspace was support. As long as she knew that she had people at her side able to step in if anything went wrong, then she would slowly but surely let herself go.

“Huh?” She mumbled, looking at the Wanese man, who seemed to have realized this, mirroring her surprise as he repeated the slight noise she had just made.

“Oden, you know this brat?” Whitebeard grunted, glancing at his brother, knowing him, he would not be surprised if the young child was part of his extended entourage of followers, not to mention that, after Roger’s request and, much to his dismay, Oden’s agreement, he was already in quite an awful mood.

“It’s Mr. Kidnapper,” Dokucha concluded, pointing at the man from Roger’s Lap.

At the words, Whitebeard fully turned to the man, a judging look on his face at the implication. Roger too glanced at the man, but he, knowing Dokucha, simply looked at him with an amused look as if waiting for a drama to unfold in front of his eyes.

“W-Wait, it’s not like that, White Kishi!l

In an effort to clear his name, Oden hurriedly explained what had happened when he had encountered the child and the invitation he had extended to them upon meeting her. This gained him another disgruntled look from the devil-fruit user. Taking pity on the man and the hole he kept digging for himself , Roger turned to Dokucha, who, in turn, cleared his suspicions, concluding that the whole accusation stemmed from something his apprentices had blown out of proportion in an attempt to ‘save her’. He had figured as much. As the child's primary caretakers, the duo had become quite protective of her, especially given what they had saved her from that fateful day.

However, as to be expected from a three-year-old, no moment ever grew dull with her around, as soon as the matter was concluded, she had unknowingly started yet another small uproar with her following words.

“You’re Mr. monkey!

Needless to say Dokucha was able to witness first hand Whitebeard’s fabled anger as his annoyance finally reached a boiling point as he for the second time that day lost control of his devil-fruit something that simply threw the Pirate King into a fit of laughter as the crews looked up at their superiors with confused expressions, not knowing how to properly take in the events that had taken place in front of them.

Not only had they witnessed Roger bowing his head to an adversary, but they were also now witnessing the blond Captain blowing a new one over a child’s impression of him. A good portion of them were quite shocked but the members who knew the captains for longer periods of time could on let out a sigh and amused chuckles at the scene, without a thought this would be an event that no one on that island would forget any time soon as It was this day that the future ‘strongest man in the world’ would gain his most hated epithet as the ‘Monkey of the seas’.

“Capi?” Dokucha called, once the man had calmed down, though grumbles still escaped the devil-fruit user.

“Don’t tell Rayleigh” she pleaded

Please ask me more about dokucha!

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

@mysouleaten

Luffy

Save him please someone.

"Argh i refuse!" he'd snarl pointy teeth showing as he yells.

''But Luffy, you'd be a great husband." you protest making him only more irritated.

"I'm not marrying anyone!'' he slaps his hands on the table, steam blowing form his nose, you pout a little with this fake facade.

You walk over to the kitchen taking out a well cooked meat dish. ''Here i made something for you."

His nose is like a hounds when it comes to meat. "Wacha got there." he's already clanking forks against the table as you set it in front of him.

"If you eat this, you'll be my husband."

He completely ignores your joke, dropping forks aside he takes the food with his hands, chewing the delicious meal.

"So good! Oi Y/n ,I want more, moreee!" he'd whine not even finishing the first set his eyes sparkling wide as he looks at you.

''Oh whatever." you completely lose against him, his obliviousness compares with no one when it comes to this.

He thanks you for the food, licking his mouth from the crumbs, you show him another one.

''Shishishi" he cackles loudly and before you notice the food is long gone.

"Luffy!'' you shout watching him swallow quickly, you're left defeated.

''At least enjoy it you ape.." you wail silently watching him brisk past you.

''Maybe I should consider, aah who knows, but the food is too good.'' he speaks to himself arms behind his head and a large smile.

If you haven't ever experienced a Boa Hancock moment now you understand what it is about.

Sabo

''Isn't this a little sudden?'' he asks.

The two of you lying on the couch whilst watching a movie, not that the movie was bad but somehow Sabo started talking about random things trying to get to know a bit more of your mind until the topic game to be about marriage, you asked him what he thought about being called husband and this was his response.

"Were not getting married Sabo, it's just a question, what do you think?'' his arm pulled back a little from holding onto you , his elbow rested on the couch, hand still on your back he traced light circles.

''Well putting it this way.." he looked in thought his blonde hair falling over his eyes you couldn't help to brush it away, his gaze softly falling on you he smiled into the touch.

"I don't hate it, matter of fact, im open to it."

"Really?''

"Yeah, I mean you've called me D-"

"Ah shut up." You covered his mouth the apples of his cheeks growing as he gently bit into your palm.

You blushed a little, man this guy can be such a tease sometimes.

He pulled your hand away from his mouth, continuing.

"Well, do it." He smiled, his blue eyes flickering form the movie that flashed by beside you two.

''You're my husband." you stated shyly blinking many times as you watched him clench his heart.

"Oh this hits right in the feels." he faked pain falling over onto your lap.

You laughed at his antics, if there's anyone that can difuse the feeling of embarrassment faster its this guy. He laid back on your lap, your hand wandering lazily in his hair, you smiled at him.

His hand reached over to your cheek he pulled you forward, his nose gently rubbing against yours he pressed a lingering kiss.

Katakuri

He's a rather secluded person so you mainly hanged out around his sister, Brulee was the sweetest older sister you could ask for always offering you tea and sweets her genuine heart never wavering. You two had an ongoing joke about her brother the two of you kept codenaming him ''husband'' so your conversations would usually go with her staring a conversation like this. "So y/n, how's the husband?" she chuckled her smile lighting up the room. "He's a delight really we went shopping the other day and let me tell you how hard it is to find something that he'd even remotely hate, he loves everything! I'm starting to think it's impossible to make him mad.'' you sighed, not that you had real intentions of getting the big giant mad, you just wanted to see if he'd ever change his character, no matter how long you were at the store trying on every piece of clothing to waste time, he sat patiently the large scarf covering his mouth he always waited for you with a warm smile giving his opinions on the outfits. Brulee smirked '' He's a very kind person so even I cant see him being unsupportive."

"I know right, its like everything he does always turns out to be even better than he intended!" you flailed your arms a slight frown forming on your brows. The door peered open a rather tall figure coming through he welcomed himself in with a smile, setting some sweet buns on the table, they steamed with a gnetle delicious scent of sesame , rice and hints of familiar mango filling.

"Thank you dear." you smiled to the man as he stepped forth to take off the large scarft, his pointy teeth always caught your gaze.

you continued your conversation with brulee,katakuri sitting by your side as he bit into the sweet bun.

The two of you kept speaking about a certain husband and he for the life of him couldnt understand to who were you reffering to with such familiarity.

''Who are you two talking about?'' he chewed the sweet looking between you two.

"You.'' you quickly replied continiuing your conversation with his sister until she stopped her eyes wide as she looked at you.

You had a quizzical expression on your face and then it clicked, your face flared up red with brulee watching the sweetest smile on her face, you avoided looking at katakuri to save your life.

No need to worry, the large man was barely able to continue eating his desert, a humble red spread over his ears he pinched the bridge of his nose for the longest time. It was for the longest time he thought you were talking about someone else every time you chatted with his sister he thought you were chatting about another man you had spotted wandering onto the island. Now it made sense to him, the words repeating in his mind he groaned setting the pastry on the table, he never pictured himself to be called that , he was barely able to get used to boyfriend so you tended to switch it up very often.

You cleared your throat watching the fluster on his face , your hand reached over to take his , you were met with a comfortable squeeze.

"You two will be the death of me." he sighed a large toothy grin over his face. The two of you were left a laughing mess offering him some tea as an apology for the long confusion along with the sudden surprise.

Zoro

He asked for you to sit on his back while he was working out, you hesitated at first thinking that he's going a little too far, he reassured you there's nothing to be afraid of as he can easily sling over 100 kgs without ease.

''If you say so.." He steadied himself into a plank waiting for you to find a comfortable place over him.

"Ready?"

''Yep." you popped the p feeling your balance loose itself as you held onto waist each time he neared the ground.

You couldn't hold your amusement, he was way stronger than you imagined, your weight seemed to barely affect him as he did his push ups with ease. ''15..16..17.." you counted in your mind your but flat against his lower back.

"Have you asked anyone else to do this while you train?'' you had to know, there's no way he'd be so comfortable with a whole human on his back like this.

"Yeah, I asked," he panted between pushes, you could feel each time his body took an inhale of breath. "Luffy, but he's so light it wasn't even a challenge." sweat dripped down his forehead onto the ground before him creating a little array of a puddle.

"Anyone else?''

He took his time answering this time focusing on his form before he spoke up again, the silence was pleasant, although you were a little worried reminding yourself as you rode on his back that he was still training.

" I think I asked Usopp after that, though he wasn't better than Luffy."

He breathed a little heavier taking some time to stop between curls, to steady his breathing.

"You alright? I can hop off if it's too much." you wondered not wanting for him to collapse with extra weight on him.

"Stay, you're good." he continued with a regained sense of will, crushing through the next 50 push ups.

You grew comfortable on his back having adjusted to the rhythm.

Your hands slid lower on his waist as you lowered your back against his, your concentrated weight now laying flat over him, your head on the back on his neck, just enough so it wouldn't bother him.

He puffed heavier reaching triple digits, his muscles slowly grew sore but he pushed through with a slight sense to impress you.

''Y/n , you up there? Is Zoro with you?'' Chopper asked under the stairs you responded loudly.

''Yep, my hubby's right here!'' there was a quick silence as Zoro's eyes widened under you, not that you could see.

''Okaay! Dinners gonna be ready soon!'' he informed before walking to do help out.

The weight shifted under you, his hand held you in place, as you leaned slightly to his right, he was doing single handed push ups.

"Hey, don't you think that's a bit extreme?'' you told him, as he continued to meet ground confidently.

''Nah." His hand held comfortably on your waist a while longer until he switched sides, the name lingering in his mind. A while later he was dripping wet, you could feel your own shirt soaking in his sweat he gestured you to hop off.

''Here." you handed him some water, he turned to his side his face not meeting yours he drank, chest rising with each sip you admired his well toned back with a silent whistle.

It surprised him, the feeling of your eyes on him made him a little shy, hince the reason he refused to turn around for so long.

You walked up to him, head leaning over his shoulders to have a look at his face. He had spaced out for a bit , a blush covering his upper face you smiled in awe.

''Yeoow, Tell your hubby to move it! Foods done!" you heard Franky call for you, Zoro's face eyes twitching at the mention of this nickname.

Your smile grew wider as you poked his face.

''Were you pulling those stunts because of me?'' you smirked making his eyes open to look at you with the blush on his face still wildly present.

"No.." he spoke softly, his crossed arms unwinding he slipped one around your waist with a serious yet pleading look.

''Don't tell anyone.." you chuckled silently at his words, resting your head on his shoulder.

''Come on, food will get cold.'' he guided you to head down, following closely as everyone greeted you.

During dinner you gave him a look, mouthing the nickname again, he ate his food not saying anything, the tips of his ears were red no matter how much he tried to deny it.

He liked the nickname despite the silence.

Sanji

''Sanji, come here a moment." You ushered the sweetheart over, he waltzed towards you with his signature spin stopping behind you to peer over what you were looking for.

A bunch of jewelry, shining red white, pink and blue all sorts of jewels shined under the display lights. "What's up? Do you need money?''

''Hmm no, give me your hand." you vaguely looked at his hand, his slim fingers flexing before you, a trail of smoke winding in the air.

You offered his hand to the jeweler he took measurements of his ring finger, whilst Sanji watched, if this was an idea for a gift this was the worst way to ask for a ring size, he could of just told you if you asked.

''8.5 centimeters miss." The shop keep informed you of the size.

''Thought as much, could i see the rings over there?'' you pointed under the display, Sanji curiously watching over your shoulder like a cat.

"Of course, for gifts we suggest these as they aren't that flashy and will accentuate the hands well." He smiled pulling out a ring form its holdings handing it over to you.

You turned Sanji's hand so his palm would face you your warm hand meeting with his rather cold and meek one.

"What's wrong Sanji? Your hands are cold." you asked watching him puff smoke in the shapes of hearts, his cheeks a brisk red.

"Hm? Oh I didn't think you'd be the type to buy men jewelry.'' He watched as you slipped the ring on his finger, a slim silver band sitting low on his finger it looked rather pretty but a little too slim for him.

You took it off clasping the metal you handed over it the shop keep.

"How about this one?'' you showed to a thicker ring, the polish on it shining beautifully.

"Good choice miss." he commented handing you the ring.

You took the cigarette from Sanjis lips between your middle and pointer finger holding the ring in your thumb and ring finger you slipped it on taking a slow drag from the white wrapped cigarette.

Sanji watched with deep curiosity, he loved when you did these subtle yet intimate things, his heart beat with a deep flame as he watched you puff out a streak of grey smoke. His lower lip slightly trembling at the sight.

"What do you think?'' You spoke calmly watching him gulp as his eyes wandered to the ring, he twirled it around with his thumb checking if it wasn't going to bother him whilst he was cooking.

''It's good, won't bother me if I wear it for a long time." You smiled taking on another drag of his cigarette. A pleasant smirk laying on your features as you thought about what you're going to say next.

''This isn't typically a thing to take off Sanji." you smiled brushing a hand over his cheek, the lit cigarette dangerously close to his face, protected by your hand.

His heart dropped at the mention.

''She doesn't m-mean.." he thought to himself. Your confident yet seductive gaze at him only confirmed his thoughts, he swallowed slowly, his face plastered in a red blush, you laughed.

''Is this a prop-proposal!?'' his eyes beat out of his face he practically shouted in the most excited way.

You chuckled sweetly, the shop keep blushing at the sight of you two.

''Well take this one then" You smiled handing him money. Your gaze towards Sanji you put a hand on his shoulder whispering.

''I might as well make you a husband, dear.''

Oh boy.. the red that ripped down his nose way quite something, you handed him a hanker chief dropping the cigarette on the nearby ashtray the shop keep kept, you laced your hand with his walking out the shop Sanji followed with a light stumble every now and then walking a few steps behind you as you lead him. His head was so ready to burst with all the imagines of the two of you holding a ceremony rose petals flying and everything.

''My those two are something." the shop keep chuckled watching an overly flustered male leave with his sweetheart in hand.

Smoker

Word seemed to get around around you and the cloudy vice admiral, because of his strict work nature and your dedication people started calling you the type to be married only to two things each other and work, the two of you never met much aside from when it was time to deliver some justice, men practically fangirled when the two of you appeared fighting along each other.

''What's wrong with all of you, there's work to be done!'' Smoker shouted to his underlings as you walked beside him.

''There she is, aren't they the best.." the guys swooned as you stood hands on your hips along Smoker, his cigars burning weak smoke you offered him a light, his face leaning to the fire you provided the guys waited in anticipation for something to happen.

''Got a problem guys?'' you smiled meanly, Smoker puffing on his cigars to light them fully.

''None at all!!'' they all waved their hands with sheepish smiles.

''This is getting a little out of hand.." he looked at you smoke puffing from his face.

''You don't say." you laughed, something you did only around him according to every fanboy out there.

''Look look she's smiling again'' they blushed, a vein popping on Smokers face from this foolery.

''Go do something you idiots!" he knew the rookies had nothing better to do but it beat oogling at you two every second they could.

'' I'm going to HQ if you need something you know where to find me." with the use of his devil fruit and a long streak of smoke he disappeared from your sights.

You chuckled closing the door to his office with your body, Smokers head deep into his papers.

"It's crazy out there." you stood there hand's behind your back as you leaned on the door. Smoker hummed listening to you. ''You don't think we should do something about this?'' you walked over to his desk sitting across him, the single cigar set down in the ash tray he finally pulled his head out of the mountains of papers before him.

''Why should we? It does nothing for us." he stated slicking back his hair you squinted at the sight.

"You enjoy being my fictitious husband that much?" you smiled watching his eyes slowly running over you face, a little shit eating grin plastered on your face, you subsided it once you saw his cheeks redden a little as he resumed his smoke hiding the embarrassment.

"You're kidding right?!'' he winced closing his eyes , a hand clenching under the desk. Just dont laugh, it wasn't supposed to come off this way, but there was no better way for him to answer.

''..'' He was silent as he opened his eyes staring at you through his brows.

It was your turn to return the blush, as you laid back on the chair placing a cold towel over your forehead.

''Those brats..'' you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose you rose your head letting the towel fall to your lap.

Once his work was done he decided to treat you to some tea in the lounge, the two of you passed by a couple of marines on your way, you calmly took his hand in your watching as one spit water behind you, you turned your head looking at them with a knowing smile. Smokers eyes glancing over at your hand he picked up the pace dragging you along a bit faster, you laughed turning your face back to the blushy vice admiral.

Eustass Kid

You watched as Kid toyed around his arm, tightening bolts and sautering wires it looked surreal to just think how it operated.

"Kid what do you think about marriage." you asked him out of the blue never approaching this topic with him before. The mean look on his face grew as he barked at you. " What marriage?! It's annoying to just think about it." Whilst true he had a lot on his plate in the current situation, he wanted to beat Kaido for beating his ass so badly the dumbest of reds showed on his face as he threw some bolts at you making you hide behind a flipped table.

"Get out, you're annoying!'' He puffed slamming his fist on the table, bolts creaking on his arm as he attempted to move it.

"Look at what you did!'' You checked his arm watching smoke and sparks come from it you chuckled a bit. ''You can fix that cant you?'' you pointed at it making him growl back, ''Of course, it's gonna take a shit ton of time because of you though." he held a mean glare toward you. ''Okay okay I get it, I'm sorry." you raised your hands in defeat watching him sigh.

'' Don't stand there, you're helping out now." he waited for you to come closer bringing over all sorts of random tools with you, the two of you worked for a long while, trying to fix all the errors you caused.

As much as he kept focusing on his work, his eyes sometimes wandered to your face watching how you inspected his work. The dumb glint in your eyes as you followed his each move broke the silence.

"I guess it can't hurt.." he admitted his ears a little red.

"Hm?'' you turned to took at him while he was avoiding your gaze with a little sweat dropping down his brow.

"Nothing, pay attention." he moved your face with the back of his knuckle, your side eye stared at his preoccupied thought filled expression, with a wide smirk you pushed his hand back with your face, the longer you stared the longer he stiffened up.

"What?'' his clad orange eyes peered down on you.

You smiled not saying a word.

''You'd make the finest fucking husband." you spoke up suddenly staring right at him with a wide smirk.

He rolled his head throwing it back before he snapped at you.

"GET OUT WILL YOU." he threw an oiled cloth at you watching you scatter out of his room with haste.

Hand over his mouth he stared long at his arm, his eyes wide without a sense of reality, the embarrassed blush covering his face he could no longer work on the repairs.

Shanks

''Hubby am i right on this ?" You were bickering with Ben for the longest time, the stubborn first mate would not bend under your will even if you bribed him with millions.

Shanks turned around with a cheeky look on his face he overheard the entirety of the conversation between you two, you were in the wrong however he wanted to mess around with something else first.

"Hubby?'' he asked whipping around the bar stool one leg over the other he laid his hand behind the counter in a rather confidant way.

"Come on Shanks who's right.'' you blurted out continuing to one over Ben whos scowl only grew the longer you didn't agree with him.

He watched with a glimmer in his eyes calling out your name.

"Hubby~" he smirked watching as you processed the information.

''Argh what the hell! Yes Ben your point is right! Shanks youre dead!" you stormed forward to the captian pinching his nose.

"I call you one silly nickname and you dont leave it alone." you scolded him watching him stifle a laugh as he pushed you to his side with his only arm.

You didn't look him in the face knowing he'd give you a shit eating grin.

"Let go!'' you peeled at his hands , his grip strong as he got in your face with a whisper.

"I refuse~" the gravel in his tone, along the way he looked at you, it was only a matter of time before you shot him a glance.

You looked over at him quickly regretting that instantly.

"There you are." the sultry tone in his voice never leaving as he leaned in his lips hovering just above yours, barely a touch.

He waits for you, with a small smile tugging on his lips. He was pleasantly surprised when you tugged on his collar a rather harsh kiss deepening against his.

Roger

You brought up the topic suddenly the hearty laugh form him was as much as when you did your usual babbling with him.

"Husband, me?'' he snorted between baited breaths.

You felt a little dumb standing in front of him as he laughed his large hat tipping on his head.

'Never hurts to try something once now does it?" He showed you a warm smile once his laughter stopped, you didn't expect him to be so agreeable to something like this.

''I cant figure out if you're serious or joking." you pouted as he guided you to the end of his ship.

''If you want the world, I'll get it for you.'' he clenched his first around thin air, right along your chest as he leaned into hug your shoulder, a bewildered stare darting between his face and hand you didn't even think about the possibility.

"I can't bring you a big ceremony, but if you want the life of a wanted criminal on your hands I can't go denying yours dreams now can I?''

''Guys prepare for a celebration!'' he shouted over his shoulder, every man standing at a halt.

''Your captains getting married!'' he wasted no time jumping assumptions.

"R-Roger wait, now?!'' you pushed a hand on his chest which he took into his with a knowing look.

"No time like the present no?'' He smirked, his teeth flashing in the bright sun.

He didn't even take time to consider something like this...

''I thought it over don't be stupid." Its like he read your mind, he pointed to his crew gazing down at you.

"They're a handful, but take care of them will you?"