#shank

King Candy is canonically polite to both these two:

Bill

Shank

I've seen people portray him as

A: mean to Bill (he never is in the movie even when it would be easy to be) He's always gentle and considerate of him when they interact and his anger is never POINTED at Bill.

Or B: disregarding or disrespectful to women (he even calls her ma'am!) The new Disney Hero's game has even more of how polite and considerate he is to ladies so there's that too!

Note: Danielle O'Hara has received two submissions and thus bypasses the preliminaries.

Propaganda

Shank:

Shank is an 8ft pig man. He wears a clown costume (hot) with a “kiss the chef apron” (hot) and latex gloves (hot). He is often covered in blood splatters (also hot) from brutally killing terrorist, child abusers and those who harm defenceless people and animals.

He’s a slaughterhouse man, and like to watch the light bleed from your eyes as you change from soul to meat.

Shelby Allen:

For the record I never liked you /lyrc

Word count: 2100 Characters: Shanks x female reader Plot: Everybody always had the time of their life on the Red Force at night, but Y/N tonight seems sad, even if she usually dances all night. The crew is concerned about her behavior and Shanks tries to investigate: he finds out that she is heartbroken because her boyfriend left her. He tries to console her: one day the right man, a real man, will come and love her as she deserves. But what if he's that man?

Author’s note: Honestly? I’m in love with how this turned out, but I am mortified about the length. Words just kept flowing out of my fingers and I couldn’t stop. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it, even if it’s a bit sad. Also, there are references to a bit of age gap (imagine late twenties – early forties), I hope no one will be concerned or offended. Let me know if you like it and as always, english is not my first language, so I apologise if something is wrong. 

The deck of the Red Force was alive with music, laughter, and the clink of tankards filled to the brim with rum. The crew swayed and stumbled in time to the music, their voices raised in raucous cheer. It was a scene Shanks had orchestrated countless times before—a night of celebration, letting loose under the stars, sailing with nothing but freedom on the horizon. But tonight felt different. Y/N sat apart from the crowd, her back against one of the ship’s sturdy masts, knees pulled up to her chest. Her gaze drifted over the crew as they danced and shouted, lost in their revelry, but her heart wasn’t in it. She clenched her tankard in both hands, staring into the dark liquid inside it as if it might hold some answers, something to make her feel better and fill the hollow ache inside her.

But it didn’t.

“Oi, Y/N!” Yasopp called from the center of the party, swaying slightly with a grin on his face. “Where are you hiding? You’re the true queen of parties!”

Shanks was beside him, his arm slung lazily over the sniper’s shoulder, his laughter booming across the deck. “She’s probably nursing that drink,” Shanks called out, his voice teasing. “Last time she got lucky, but deep down she knows she can’t outdrink me!”

“Still can’t accept that you are not the best drinker on the ship, eh Shanks?,” Benn teased him, as he took a long drag out of his cigarette.

That had been the game—Y/N and Shanks facing off in drinking contests, him always so sure that he’d win, and her always proving him wrong. Despite her small frame, she had a resilience, a fire inside her that burned bright enough to match his. But tonight, that fire was dim. Y/N forced a weak smile and raised her tankard half-heartedly in their direction, but she didn’t get up. Yasopp caught the look in her eyes, his grin fading slightly, and nudged Shanks in the ribs.

“Something’s off,” Yasopp muttered, lowering his voice. Shanks watched her more closely now: the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze kept drifting out to the horizon instead of to the party. He’d noticed it earlier, how she had been quieter, distant, her usual sharp retorts and bright laughter absent from the night, but he thought it was just a moment, a sudden tiredness that had momentarily slowed down her tireless spirit.

He crossed the deck, his noisy flipflops on the wood, stopping just in front of her. She looked up, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and tried to smile again, but it faltered. 

“Mind if I join you?” Shanks asked, his voice softer now.

Y/N shrugged, scooting over to make room. He sat beside her, his larger frame casting a long shadow over her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party feeling oddly distant despite being just a few feet away. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You should be out there,” he said, nodding toward the party. “Dancing. Drinking. Outdrinking Yasopp and me of course, even though I’ll never admit it.”

Y/N managed a small smile but didn’t turn to face him. “Not tonight, Captain.”

Shanks frowned. He wasn’t used to this side of her. Y/N was always the one pulling others out of their funks, the one who lit up a room with a laugh that could make even the most serious men crack a smile. He hated seeing her like this—quiet, withdrawn, a far cry from the lively woman he had grown to care about far more than he should have. Shanks tipped his head back, looking at the stars, then glanced sideways at her. “So,” he began, keeping his tone light, “you planning on moping all night, or are you gonna tell me what’s got you looking like Benn stealing your last glass of rum that time?”

She let out a short, humorless laugh and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you sit out a party,” Shanks said, nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, spit it out.”

Y/N bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the tankard. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to let the words spill out. But Shanks was patient, his presence warm and steady beside her, and finally, she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Jim broke up with me,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “That idiot? I should’ve thrown him overboard the first time I saw him”. He tried to keep his usual calm tone, but his voice was hardening despite his attempt to stay calm.

Despite herself, Y/N let out a small laugh. “He was… charming. At first.”

“Charm doesn’t make up for being an asshole,” Shanks said bluntly. He paused, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Y/N hesitated, then sighed again, looking down at her hands. “He said I wasn’t enough for him. Said I was too… childish. That I didn’t know what it meant to be in a real relationship, not serious enough for true commitment. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Shanks’ face darkened, a rare flash of anger crossing his features. “He doesn’t know a thing about you. You’re better off without him.”

“That's perfect, 'cause he dumped me,” she said, her voice cracking just slightly at the end.

Shanks knew Y/N had been seeing this guy, a merchant, if he remembered correctly – in one of the port towns of the Island they were staying. Tall, good-looking in that clean-cut, boring sort of way. He had never liked him, though he hadn’t said anything to Y/N about it. He watched her leave the ship when they had free time, saying she was going to see him. For two months straight, he always greeted her with a smile, but his feeling were a different story. She’s young, he used to tell himself. She’s just like you when you were younger, she should be having fun. You are just her old captain. Let her be.

Now, knowing what had happened, he felt a surge of anger. He wished he had told her sooner that he knew that guy was no good for her. But the inability to tell if his instinct were right as usual, or if this time jealousy had won him over, forced him to stay silent. Shanks felt a hot burst of fury in his chest. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from showing, but it was there—sharp and sudden. 

“That idiot doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Shanks said, his voice rougher than he intended. “He’s blind if he can’t see how lucky he was to be near someone who is joufyll like you. If he can’t handle you living your life on your own terms, then he’s not worth the salt in his veins”.

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she looked away quickly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know, I just… it just feels like… like maybe there’s something wrong with me. My parents used to tell me too, you know” she said, making the alcohol in her glass dangerously move. “You’re too loud,” she tried to emulate the disappointed tone of her mother’s voice, after having chugged all she had in her glass. “You can’t take life seriously,” she repeated once again, feeling her mother’s stare on her. Y/N took the half empty bottle of rum Shanks had in his hands, pouring the dark liquor in her tankard once again.

Shanks felt a pang in his chest, seeing her like this. She was always the one laughing, teasing, strong in a way that made the world seem lighter just by being in it. Seeing her doubt herself—seeing her hurt like this—made him want to punch something, or better yet, find that merchant and make him regret ever crossing her path.

He wanted to maker her feel better again, so Shanks tried for levity, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. “Sounds like you dodged a cannonball to me you know,” he said, his voice dipping into that easy, familiar drawl. “Can you imagine? Spending your life with a man like that? He’d probably make you wear fancy dresses and drink tea at noon. You'd be already asleep at this hour”.

Y/N let out a snort of laughter, despite herself, but it quickly turned into a quiet sob. She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking, and Shanks’ heart twisted in his chest. He hated seeing her like this—so small, so vulnerable. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but firm. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle now, the teasing gone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked about it. You know me, I can’t take life seriously either,” tried to joke once more.

She shook her head, lowering her hands from her face, smiling to him through tears. “No, it’s not that, I’m fine”, she explained, watching the look of concern growing on Shank’s face. “Seriously, I’m fine. I knew it wasn’t going to last, I just…” she stayed silent for a second, trying to gather the right words. She tried to catch breath, trying not to hate herself more than she was already doing. First, the thing with that idiot, now this: crying in front of her Captain, looking so weak and so…so ugly, with her eyes red, the snot coming out of her nose, the puffy face. She started slowing down her breath, but this was just too much so she let another deep sob escape her.  

Shanks’ hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer, then slid down her arm until their fingers brushed. He hesitated, torn between the urge to comfort her and the gnawing uncertainty that had been eating at him for weeks—his feelings for her, the tension between them that he had tried to ignore. Shanks felt a knot tighten in his chest. Of course, that dumbass wasn’t worth it. The man was a fool for leaving her, for not seeing what Shanks had seen in her all along. But how could he say that? How could he tell her what was really on his mind?

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so instead, he took her by the arm, leading her away from the noise and the crowd, past the cabins and down the stairs toward a quiet corner of the ship where they wouldn’t be disturbed. She followed without protest, though her mind was racing. She had never seen Shanks so serious, so intent on something.

Y/N sat down the last step, Shanks let go of her arm and ran a hand through his red hair, exhaling sharply. He leaned against the wall, staring at the ground, his brow furrowed as if he was struggling with something inside of him. She was young and despite her fierce independence, there was a fragility to her that he didn’t want to break. He knew the kind of life he lived wasn’t fair to someone like Y/N—someone who chose this life, but indeed deserved stability, safety, a love that didn’t come with a price. 

He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “Y/N,” he began, his voice rougher than he intended, “you deserve better than some fool who can’t see how amazing you are. You’re strong, you’re smart, and you’ve got a fire in you that no man should ever try to snuff out. You will hurt tonight, but tomorrow you will be fine, and it’s okay. But trust me, please, you don’t have to change for anyone,” the words come quick, like a cascade out of his mouth. 

Then, he placed his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. His chin resting upon her head, her face buried in his chest. Y/N breathing slowed down, finding comfort and warmth in Shanks’ arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and he felt something break inside him as she quietly whispered something that made him freeze. “I hope I will meet someone as kind as you”. She absent-mindedly let it slip, her brain incapable of being as sharp as it usually was. Between all the emotions she was feeling, all the sadness bottled up inside trying to come out, she wan’t as attentive as always. Shanks couldn’t keep this up—this careful distance he had been maintaining, this charade of just being her captain and friend. Not when she looked at him like that. But he had to. 

“Why does it hurt so much?,” she asked, loosening her grip.

“Because that’s what we do: we feel things,” he told her, feeling uncomfortable as she started slipping away.

“Tell me that it does get better,” she begged him, wiping a tear off her face, in the vain act of regaining some dignity. “Tell me that when you grow up you will feel like you know it, like you have it all figured it out”.

He feels a soft smile coming through his face. 

“No, it does’t”, he realveas passing his now-sadly-free-hand in his red hair. “It’s just a fucking mess, but trust me, it’s beautiful. It won’t be better, but it will be worth it”. 

Shanks starts to move slowly towards the door, about to go out, in desperate need of air or, even better, another drink. He needed to go away, before he’d say – or worst, he’d do – something stupid. Y/N stayed there, smiling and thinking about his answer. As soon as she notices his movements, watching him as he tries to leave, she feels a new wave of sadness hitting her.

“Come back?,” she asks with a wishper, hoping it will be loud enough for him to her her. He turns around, smiling at her softly once again. She signs him to come closer, but he reassures her. “I’ll be here in a few seconds, I am just going to grab something to drink for both of us, alright?,” he asks her, incapable of controlling the tenderness in his voice. She nods and sits on the ground, waiting for him. “Shanks,” she calls again as he takes a step back, once again. “Can you steal a cigarette from Benn for me?” asked, still her voice shaky. He let out a soft laugh, raising his thumbs at her.

Shanks stepped out of the cabin and closed the door softly behind him, taking a deep breath. The weight of the air felt lighter out here, away from Y/N’s sorrowful gaze, but the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. He ran a hand through his messy red hair, shaking off the vulnerability that had started creeping in while he comforted her. Who would have thought this was were this night was going: he thought that he could just get drunk and have with her and the crew what they usually do but no, that idiot had to break her heart and now there she is, crying and aching, while he tempts to console her, carefully trying to not let his feeling take the best of him.

"Alcohol. Need some alcohol," he muttered to himself as he came on the deck again, the clamor of voices suddenly filling the air.

“Oi, Captain!” Lucky Roux called out from where the crew had gathered. His cheerful face was now lined with concern, and the others around him were equally somber. “How’s Y/N doing? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, we saw you and her heading under the deck before,” Yasopp chimed in, leaning against the railing, arms crossed. “What’s going on with her? I told you something was off tonight”.

Shanks sighed, stopping in his tracks. He could feel the weight of his crew’s eyes on him. His men were like family, and they cared about Y/N just as much as he did. Keeping things from them wasn’t really an option. Still, this wasn’t something he wanted to dive into.

“She’s... well, it’s about that boy she’s been seeing,” Shanks said reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck. “Broke things off. Hurt her pretty bad.” The crew’s reactions were immediate. Yasopp let out a low whistle, “That bastard,” Roux cursed under his breath.

They were all pissed, Y/N wasn’t just someone on the ship, she was like their little sister, and her pain was their pain. It had been a year now since she joined their crew. Since that moment, they all felt like the fun and laughter, the alcohol and the joy, had doubled – she worked some trick on them, making them feel as if they were all back in their late twenties. 

Roux clenched his fists. “We should teach him a lesson. No one messes with our crew, especially not Y/N.” Shanks held up a hand, his tone even but firm. “No need for that. It’s over. And she needs time, not more trouble,” explained, as Y/N’s heartbreak had become the crew’s problem now, too.

As the others turned to leave, Benn Beckman approached, leaning casually against the doorway, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes were sharp, more knowing than most.

"Shanks," Benn called softly, making sure no one else could overhear. 

“Oh you were just the one I was looking for, I need a cig,” Benn raised his eyebrow confused, as Shankes added also his matches in his request. 

“It’s for her,” he explained. Benn gave him what he needed, shaking his head with a soft smile, thinking about the first time Y/N confessed him she didn’t smoke, she was just endlessly smoking her last cigarette.

Shanks and Benn had been friends for so long that words weren’t always necessary—but when they were spoken, they were always heavy. He stopped and met Benn's gaze. "What are you going to do about it?"

Shanks knew exactly what Benn was asking. He wasn’t talking about getting Y/N this cigarette or offering her some comfort. He was asking about the truth Shanks had kept buried for so long. The truth about how he felt about her. 

Shanks' smile faltered for a moment, a rare crack in his usually carefree demeanor. He shifted his weight, feeling the familiar flutter in his chest whenever he thought about Y/N as something more than just a crewmate. He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his glass, his tone softer now. “Nothing she needs right now,” he replied, looking off into the distance as if that might provide some clarity. “She’s hurt, Benn. She doesn’t need more complications”. Benn’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press further. He understood Shanks better than anyone, even when the red-haired captain didn’t fully understand himself.

Shanks sighed, feeling the weight of Benn’s words but knowing there wasn’t an easy answer. “She’s hurting now,” he continued, “The only thing I care is to make her feel alright as soon as I can”.

“And what about you?” Benn asked, his voice a low murmur, almost swallowed by the sound of the waves against the ship. “When will you be alright?”

Shanks didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the closed cabin door where Y/N waited for him. “She’ll be alright,” he repeated, turing away to head back to Y/N with a bottle of rum in hand, the truth hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. Benn watched him go, the cigarette still burning between his fingers, his eyes knowing and weary. He knew Shanks could lie to the crew, and maybe even to Y/N. But lying to himself? That was another battle entirely.

She’ll be alright and it will be worth it, Shanks repeated himself, softly smiling. When he returned, Y/N looked up at him with those same tear-streaked eyes. And for a brief moment, as he sat down next to her and handed her the cig, he wished that for just once, he could tell her everything. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she was already broken. So instead, he smiled, taking a long swig from the bottle, and mentally vowed to stay by her side. Even if it meant keeping his feelings locked away, just a little while longer.

She lit the cigarette taking a long drag, Shanks watching her with a bit of amusement.

“Remember that I’m letting you smoke under the deck just because this is an emergency,” he tried to lighten the mood once again, while taking another sip. She nodded, puffing out the smoke, “so, when are the rest of the guys going to kick Jim’s ass?,” she casually asked. Shanks turned to her, “I heard what they were saying on the deck, they’re not exactly quiet you know,” she explained, “Remind me to say thanks to Roux for wanting to step up for me and defend my honor,” she laughed, while grabbing the bottle and pouring her some.

“You’re smiling a bit,” Shanks noted relieved. “Are you feeling a bit better?” Y/N nodded. 

“Knew that drinking would have helped you,” he joked.

“Maybe it’s the drink,” she repeated. “Or the cigarette,” she took another drag while Shanks drank a bit more. “Or the fact that whenever I am around you, I can help but laugh,” she added smiling once again, Shanks’ heart skipping a bit for what she had just said. 

“Thank you, I will never thank you enough for this,” she turned to face him, moving towards him, resting – with no warning – her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I kinda ruined the party’s mood tonight,” she continued, finding comfort once again in the cigarette. 

“Well, you can’t always be the life of the party, can you?,” Shanks joked, incapable of stopping himself to enjoy the closeness they were sharing. Before she could speak once again he signed her to be quiet, “I want that to be very clear: you haven’t ruined anything. You felt hurt, it happens. I hope you know that it’s not your fault”, she nodded.

“I truly mean it, Y/N. He was not worth your time or your energy. I think you have shed more tears for him than he deserved. I don’t want to see you cry again,” he said, caressing her puffy cheek with his thumb, “unless if it’s about Benn stealing you last drink again”, he tried to make her smile again. The feeling of her soft skin under his calloused fingers reminded him once again the truth he was trying to avoid: she was a fragile thing, he need to be careful with her.

“You will find a true man who will take care of you,” he added while he stood up to set some distance between them. 

“Can you hug me again before you go?”. Shanks froze, her words hanging in the air. He hadn’t planned on leaving just yet, but her request for another hug—it was the way she said it, the vulnerability in her voice—it almost unraveled him. Turning back to her, he hesitated only for a moment before sitting back down, opening his arm. She nestled into his chest, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“I ruined your shirt,” she said noticed the stain she caused with her cries.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, looking her in those big eyes, still a bit red for the emotional turmoil of the night. She nodded.

“Then it’s fine,” he answered nodding his head in disbelief, as if he could care about a damn shirt. 

“Was it worth it?”, she asked suddenly, her tone quiet yet meaningful. Shanks froze for a moment, taken aback. She had repeated his own words from earlier, the ones he had spoken to try and reassure her. Shanks felt his breath hitch slightly. He gently pulled away, giving her a bit of space, though he kept her hand close, his fingers barely brushing against hers, reluctant to lose contact. The look on her soft face was sending his mind into shambles, and suddenly, the air between them felt impossibly thick, each breath heavy with everything left unsaid. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words seemed to falter on the tip of her tongue. Shanks’ heart pounded in his chest, louder than anything else, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her—how her eyes still held that same vulnerability, but there was something else now. Something more. 

“You are always worth it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. She blinked up at him, her expression softening as she leaned in just a little closer. “I’m glad,” she whispered, her gaze flickering to his lips for the briefest of moments. It was enough for him to notice, to feel that pull again—the one that told him he was dangerously close to crossing a line. But it didn’t feel dangerous anymore. It felt right. Tell her. Don’t tell her, let her rest, you will grow over it. Tell her, it will be worth it.

“I—” Shanks swallowed hard, standing up while feeling his throat tighten. “I’ve wanted to say this for a while now, but I wasn’t sure if I should. You’re younger than me, and I know… I know I’m not what people would call a “good man”. But I—”

Before he could finish, she stood up as well, almost facing him. “Shanks,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t”. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it. He knew it: he shouldn’t have let his emotions get the best of him. He should have at least waited until all of this was months behind her. But then she leaned in, closing the distance between them, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was soft, but filled with a quiet kind of desperation. He didn’t move at first, too stunned by the feel of her against him, until something inside him snapped and he kissed her back, his hand sliding into her soft hair as he pulled her closer. It wasn’t a kiss of passion—it was something gentler, more intimate, the beginning of something that had been waiting for a long time to surface. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Shanks rested his forehead against hers, his heart still racing in his chest.

“I’ll show you,” the words urged to come out of his body, he needed to get this out of his chest. “I’ll show you how you what a real man does when he’s lucky enough to be with a woman like you. Tell me you’ll let me and I will do it”. Please let me.

Y/N smiled, her eyes bright with something that looked like hope, and she kissed him again, a soft peck on the lips, while her hand rested on the side of his face. Their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths mingling as they stood in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Y/N’s fingers lightly traced the side of his face, her touch gentle and reverent, like she was afraid to break the delicate spell between them. Her smile wavered slightly, not from doubt but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—the love she had kept hidden for so long, now finally set free.

"Shanks," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the small space between them. "I don't need you to show me anything I haven’t seen already". Shanks closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest. When he opened them again, he looked at her with all the certainty he had in the world. His thumb brushed across her cheek.

“I know this wasn’t the best timing” he whispered back, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I had to take it off my chest, Y/N”.

Her hand lingered against his skin, her heart thudding in her chest as she searched his face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none. There was only love, plain and simple. It was so clear now, as if it had always been there, waiting for them to recognize it. She caressed his scar, making him shiver due to her gentle touch. He wasn’t used to this. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with everything unspoken. And then, in a quiet voice that seemed to crack with vulnerability, Y/N whispered, “I don’t want you to think that I am doing this out of sadness. I’ve always thought this. You. Us – something more than the strong bond we shared before, but I felt so dumb and inappropriate, how was I supposed to—”

Shanks tilted her chin up gently, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in closer, their lips just a breath apart. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. He kissed her again, once again with a slow tenderness that made her melt into him, her body soft against his. His hand slid up to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping slightly as if he was holding on for dear life, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear. But she didn’t, she held him close, her hand still on his cheek, pulling him tighter against her. When they finally broke apart again, Shanks leaned back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made Y/N’s breath hitch in her throat. “I meant what I said,” he told her, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you. Not because you need it—but because I’ve waited so long before finding someone to love you like you should be loved,” he softly spoke, feeling finally lighter. The weight he was carrieng from six months until now was driving him mad but now, since they kissed, he felt as if he’d been on land for too long and he just saw the ocean again.

“I know we don’t have an easy life, but I told you, I will give you all the love I have in me. But I need you to know if you’re 100% sure about this,” he explained.

“I am,” she smiled. “I know I’ll never find someone who’ll beat my drinking skills,” she joked, her wide wide smile found again, “but I need someone who can keep up, or at least tries to,” concluded with a small laugh. Shanks laughed with her, the thing that made him happy the most is that he finally recognised her Y/N, the sadness seemed to have passed, just like a storm. 

“I will beat your ass tomorrow night, you know that”, he said, hugging her once more.

shank is cool n i leik him